Just Another Casanova

Chapter 9

"It was a year into the war when I met him. You're just like him." She smiled sadly, took another sip of her drink, and then pushed it far away from her. She had to get through this story without interruptions.

"I don't know how he found our headquarters. But I remember sitting there at the kitchen table--I was organizing our files--when he just waltzed right through the door. Everyone else in the Order was out; otherwise he would've been stunned before he'd gotten one foot in the door. Lucky for him my wand was out of my reach (a really stupid thing to do during a war).

"He met my eyes and his face lit up with this stupid little grin of his. I just sat there. It went against all my training, everything I knew. I should've been up and ready to defend myself. But he just seemed so harmless. He didn't even have his wand in his hand." She smiled at the memory; her eyes fluttering closed every now and then in remembrance.

"He walked right up to me, bent down on one knee, grabbed up my hand and planted a kiss on it--much like you did today. He introduced himself as Marcello*, but his accent was stronger than yours. I introduced myself and offered him a chair, but not before I confiscated his wand. He willingly gave it. Marcello told me he'd come all the way from Puglia to join the Order."

By now Alessandro's eyes had turned darker, his hands were tighter on his cup and he had leaned forward to ensure he caught every word of her tale. His blue eyes looked at her intensely; by now he surely knew the person she was speaking of was his brother, the same that had died five years ago in the war.

"He was an immense asset," she continued. "I've never seen anyone so powerful. He could start the fireplace from across the room without even touching his wand. I remember this one time he...."

She gulped. It wasn't time for details and a dip into her personal life. Those memories were hers only. Hermione took a deep breath and returned to the basic facts.

"His intelligence nearly matched mine. He's the only man I've ever met who can quote Shakespeare and Winston Churchill in the same sentence. The man could move mountains with his words. He helped heal so many during the war. He helped us to move past the deaths and see what lie ahead.

"I want you to understand that I loved your brother."

"Everyone loved him," Alessandro said, speaking for the first time since she'd started her story.

"But not like I did," she insisted, reaching out across the table to grasp his hand. His eyes met hers and widened a little.

"I only knew him a year, but he was the most remarkable man I'd ever met. He made me laugh when I wanted to cry. He made me see when I was being blind. Marcello gave me a light when I was trapped in darkness. I felt things I'd never felt before when I was around him. He was the only one who could make me smile throughout the war--with the exception of Harry, of course.

"He did all our dirty work. He spied, he broke the bad news to families, he cleaned up our messes before the Muggles found out; but he never killed. So many took lives to save lives, but never Marcello. He believed that only God had the right to choose between life and death. I admired him for that.

"I didn't kill either. Sure, sometimes I was on the front lines, but I always found ways to sedate the enemy without resulting to killing. I was always reading books to find spells that allowed me to help without making me a monster. Mostly, I just worked with the files. I was the brain of the operation; at least, that's what Ron called me."

She let go of his hand and drew it back towards her chest. A scream pierced her memory and she recoiled slightly. She just wished it would stop.

"Hermione?" Alessandro asked gently, raising his eyebrows with concern.

"I'm not done yet," she insisted. He had to know.

"It was the last battle. Voldemort and his few remaining followers had found our headquarters and broken in in the middle of the night. It was chaos. Members of the Order were running everywhere trying to defend themselves in their pajamas. I immediately went to Marcello's room when I woke, but he wasn't there, so I proceeded downstairs.

"There were jets of green light flying everywhere. Every once in a while I'd see a red one or a white one, but everyone was out for blood. I tried to dodge through everything looking for Marcello. I cast a few stunners every now and then--I figured someone would deal with them later.

"We lost so many that night. I always thought I'd feel this relief when Harry yelled his triumph. I knew that even with all the death, we would find a new life. Your brother taught that to me. Unfortunately, I wasn't there to witness Harry's victory. I'd already done the unthinkable." Her voice hitched and she paused, swallowing thickly.

"Before Harry had tracked down Voldemort in that...mess, I'd seen something I rather wish I wouldn't have. We knew somebody had to have betrayed us. There was no way Voldemort would have found headquarters otherwise, he'd been looking for years! When I had made it to the doorway, I saw him with his pasty white face and his skeleton fingers. And next to him I saw Marcello. They weren't fighting, but they were just standing there beside each other watching it all like best friends. I closed my eyes to fight off some tears and when I opened them I saw a dirty, bleeding Marcello limping towards the kitchen. I followed him. The kitchen was empty. He was propped against a counter, his breathing heavy. But all I saw was this man I loved standing beside the one I hated the most in the whole world. I was blind with hate. I was so stupid!"

Alessandro had come closer now and gently put his hand on Hermione's shoulder, but she shrugged it off.

"I'm so...so...sorry," she stuttered. "I was so angry. All I kept thinking was how could I have been such a fool? How could I have trusted him? A year he'd played me like some marionette on a string! I remember pointing my wand at him. His brown eyes met mine and they were so confused! I didn't even let him get a word in before I started accusing him. Everything's kind of a blur; whether because I chose to forget it or because I was so frustrated, I don't know. I just remember saying it. Those two words I'd avoided all war, the two I darted out of the way from, the two that had followed me all the way to the kitchen. A green light shot out of my wand and next thing I knew he was gone."

Hermione tore herself out of the chair and turned to face her companion, her eyes searching for the hatred. "I killed him. I killed your brother, Alessandro."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* Again, Marcello is an Italian name as the 'ce' makes the name 'Mar-ch-ello'