Fractured Triangle

It was like swimming upwards from a tremendous depth, grim, grasping darkness encompassing everything. Hermione felt like she was struggling toward a distant spot of light, weighted down, kicking as hard as she could.

Screaming for someone to help her, unheard in her own mind, the light not getting any closer, she continued to fight towards it. Jolts of stabbing pain surged through her and sound, muffled and distorted, slowly reached her awareness.

"C´mon, Hermione."

Ron.

Only Ron would talk like that, but he sounded so desperately afraid and worried that she wished she could tell him that she was going to be all right, if only she could make her body reconnect with her mind.

"Mr Weasley... should go and rest... not good for you... been hours... won´t help if... ill with this..." Pomfrey´s voice came through in static bursts, as if she was speaking over a radio which had a distorted signal.

The conversation that passed between them were muffled, but grew clearer and Hermione´s battle to reach that elusive speck of light grew more pronounced, trying to force herself back to consciousness.

"Please, Mister Weasley..."

"I´m not leaving," the words came in loud and clear and Hermione felt an explosion of joy as she was struck by the realisation that Ron was still there, by her side, right where she wanted him.

Unfortunately, the relief and delight was immediately undercut by the blinding pain that lanced through her head, a moan escaping her, as the feeling began to ripple back through her strangely numb body.

"Hermione?"

Tingles spread through her whole body, pins and needles of the worst variety, her skin prickling from her face right down to her toes, as sensations returned to her. The only good thing, she knew, was the fact that she could feel hands closed around hers.

"Hermione, love?"

Her mother´s voice. She sounded so worried, just like Ron.

With the utmost of effort, Hermione forced her eyelids open. It felt like they had been coated in lead, weighted down unbearably, the chink of an opening letting light flood into her senses, dazzling her.

"Bright..." she gasped, pressing her eyes tightly shut again, her head spinning with the sterile gleam of the wing. She heard Pomfrey mutter the spell to dim the lights of the medical wing and managed to crack her eyes open again.

Her vision blurred, disorientating, her breath hitching in her throat as she saw several forms leaning in over her, one of whom she recognised because of the flaming mass of red that capped him.

"Ron..."

She felt his strangely hot fingers contract around her cold hand, which felt boneless in his grip, felt a light kiss pressed to her knuckles. "I´m here, Hermione," he said, his voice shaking. "I´m here."

She tried to smile, but her mouth refused to co-operate. "Love you," she whispered in a hoarse voice.

"Love you too," the reply came from him instinctively, without even thinking and Hermione pressed her eyes shut briefly in secure relief. He hadn´t fled the moment trouble had arisen. "How do you feel?"

Swallowing, her throat dry and sandpapery, she wet her dried-out lips with a tongue that felt mossy and dry. "Tired," she replied, her voice rasping in her throat. "Sore... thirsty too."

"Madam Pomfrey?"

Unable to find the energy to open her eyes again, she didn´t struggle as she felt arms shifting her into a sitting position, a torso supporting her back with an arm loosely around her waist to hold her upright.

"Got some water, Hermione," She heard Ron´s voice close to her ear. "And it´s got some stinking potion in it, but Pomfrey says it´ll help and let you get some sleep as well, so you have to drink it all, even if it tastes like cat pee."

Hermione felt a faint hic-giggle escape her, her head resting heavily against his shoulder. "She didn´t say that," she muttered, peeling her lips apart a little wider as a cool goblet touched her lips.

"All right, she didn´t," Ron agreed as she felt the bitter, cold drops hit her parched lips and tongue. Her nose wrinkled in distaste at the sour flavour but she swallowed it a little at a time, Ron holding the cup for her. There was a moment of silence, then Ron murmured in an undertone in her ear, "But she says that Mrs Norris´ pee is meant to be high quality medicine."

A mouthful of the fluid seemed to go down the wrong way as she swallowed, and Hermione choked, torn between giggling or coughing. The resulting sound was a little strange to say the least.

"Mr. Weasley!" Madam Pomfrey´s voice rang out clearly. "If you insist on causing our patient more trauma..."

"I´ll behave, honestly!" Ron promised with the utmost sincerity coating his voice, although Hermione felt him squeeze her side gently, which almost set her giggling again. "I´ll get her to take her medicine."

Madam Pomfrey harrumphed, but it seemed to lack in her usual enthusiasm.

It seemed an eternity before all the cool, slick fluid had slid down Hermione´s still protesting throat, warmth spreading through her body as it took effect and she felt her energy returning a little at a time.

Opening her eyes weakly, she found she was still settled comfortably in Ron´s arms, his limbs sticking in all directions off the bed that she was occupying. He gave her a half-smile and dropped a kiss on her forehead.

"How are you feeling, Hermione?"

Shifting her eyes towards the side of the bed, she found her mother sitting, her father standing right behind her. Both of them were white in the face and looked like they had aged twenty years in the few hours since she had seen them.

At least she assumed it was a couple of hours, judging by the fact that the sky was tinted with a dark lick of bloody red, a sure sign that the sun was sinking below the horizon and since she had gone to the meeting with Dumbledore at barely noon...

Yes, it had to be a few hours at least.

"I´m tired," she whispered, stretching out a hand, which felt like it was weighted down, her mother´s fingers closing around hers and squeezing. "You... you look tired too. Are you all right?"

Her mother smiled weakly. "We´re fine, love," she said, her voice tremulous. "We were just worried about you, but you´re going to be fine."

"And you´re looking much better already," her father added with a weak smile down at her. His eyes were puffy and red-rimmed and it looked like he had been crying or close to it.

"What..." Her memory seemed to be a big blank spot. She remembered Malfoy. She remembered hurting him. She remembered becoming aware of a pain in her neck. And then... then what? Darkness? Was that all? So tired, she closed her eyes again, letting her head rest against Ron´s shoulder. "What happened?"

"That filthy bastard used his knife on you, love," Ron answered. His voice was a savage growl and his arms tightened around her possessively, giving her the feeling of being wrapped up on the warmest, safest blanket she had ever felt. "He cut you... you were bleeding so much... thought we were... but you´re okay..."

"I... remember," She nodded slowly, one hand rising to touch the wad of bandage that was bound over her jugular, although it was probably entirely unnecessary due to Pomfrey´s healing charms. "Did I lose a lot?"

"You have had transfusions of sanguine supplements and other fluids," Pomfrey´s voice cut in over Ron. "You lost a great deal of blood, but you were brought here quickly enough to ensure that you will survive."

Survive.

Survive?

Her eyes snapped open and she struggled to sit up, one hand going to her stomach in panic. "The baby!" she demanded shrilly, bitter heat coursing through her veins at the thought of losing it. "What about the baby?"

Ron seemed to stiffen, but he was the one who replied. "It´s fine," he said, although his tone was wooden. "You didn´t lose it."

Folding both her arms over her stomach, Hermione sank against him again, pressing her eyes closed, unable to understand why she felt so relieved to know that she hadn´t lost the child.

She hadn´t wanted it, so what had changed that?

Then, she remembered what he had said.

He had called it a `filthy little bastard brat´, he had reduced it to the same base terms that he had referred to her in and she knew, knew without question, that she was going to prove him wrong.

It wasn´t a bastard brat. It was her child, her own baby, part of her and she was going to make damn sure that it didn´t suffer and die for where it had come from. She would prove him wrong again, with his own child as evidence.

"He won´t get you," she whispered to the insensible bump of her stomach, her voice shaking, as she ran her hands over the swell. "I´ll look after you... he won´t hurt you like he hurt me... you´re mine now. You´ll show him... we´ll show him..."

In her mind´s eyes, she could see the little creature growing inside her, a tiny version of her, a beautiful baby that would be perfect and would never, in a thousand years, end up like the line from which it came.

A hand overlaying hers jolted her from her reverie and she looked up to find Ron gazing at her intently. "You´re going to keep it?" he asked. Hermione swallowed hard, her throat tightening. If she had to lose Ron again, because of the baby...

"Ron..."

His eyes lingered on their hands for several minutes, then he raised his eyes to her, his expression making her tremble and it wasn´t from fear. "Well, the squirt´s going to need some kind of male role model..." he said hesitantly. "Isn´t it?"

"Y-you...?"

His lips twitched in a suggestion of a forced smile. "Yeah... you might have to give me some time to get used to the idea, but it´s yours, Hermione, and you know I´ll love anything of yours... even that bloody cat, given time."

"But this... this is different, Ron..."

Different.

If she had ever claimed to extol the virtues of the understatement, this was one of those occasions. One word quite simply covered everything about the situation: how wrong it was, how it had been the cause of all their hurt, how it would remind them of what had happened.

"Hermione," A hand came up to cradle her face. "I almost lost you twice this year, once by being a pillock and again because of that bastard and I nearly went completely off the wall. If you tell me that I´m going to have to lose you again..." He shook his head, his eyes holding hers, bright with unshed tears. "Please... please don´t let me lose you again... I know I´m not the best person in the world but I want to be there with you, if you´ll have me. I want to stay with you forever and if I have to help you with this baby, if I have to run starkers through the Ministry of Magic, if I have to chop off my own legs... anything you need me to do, I´ll do it...just don´t make me leave you again... please..."

Hermione wanted to make a coherent reply, she really did. Unfortunately, her mind appeared to have partaken of tabula rasa, completely and utterly wiped of coherent thought as she stared at him.

The only sound that managed to escape her was a faint `meep´.

"I think," She heard her mother´s voice. "What my daughter´s expression says is that she´s very grateful, she doesn´t understand how you could want to do what you just offered, but she´s delighted that you feel that way."

Ron´s eyes didn´t move from hers and Hermione assured herself that she was rapidly turning into a puddle of goo. Either that or she was going to burst into flames and be left as nothing more than a cinder, if he kept on staring at her like that.

"You don´t understand why I´d want to do this?" he said softly, his voice low and shaking a little. Hermione was hugely proud of herself when she managed to blink. "I think that´s easy - I love you."

What bones were left in Hermione´s body seemed to turn to mush at the words. Yes, she had heard them before, but never spoken with the reverence with which he said them now, his fingertips tracing the outline of her features.

Piecing through the remnants of her giddy mind, Hermione tried to find the words to express the sheer emotion she was feeling, the relief, the joy, the melancholy, the sense of bittersweet triumph...

In spite of her knowledge, in spite of all the books she had extensively read, in spite of everything that she knew, there was only one thing that she could find to say, her body gradually drifting towards exhausted sleep, drawing her mind with it.

Her head resting on Ron´s shoulder, she spread a hand on his chest.

"Mine," she whispered drowsily, closing her eyes.

"S´right, love," Ron murmured against her brow, stroking curls back from her cheek gently. His words were the last thing she heard as she was enveloped by much-needed sleep. "Always yours."

***

It was barely two hours later when she finally woke from the potion, feeling oddly relaxed and refreshed. As her awareness returned, she realised she was lying against a warm, jumper-clad chest and arms were around her.

Opening her eyes, she found dark green woollen material in front of her.

A soft snore made her smile, closing her eyes again, quite comfortable just lying there with him, one arm looped around Ron´s waist, his familiar, cosy Weasley smell wonderfully reassuring.

One of his hands was moving in circles on her side, even though Ron was apparently fast asleep, a blanket separating them. Little puffs of his breath were ruffling her hair and she snuggled closer.

From what she had seen, he was still wearing the clothes he had been wearing when she had been injured, which meant that he hadn´t even left her side, even though it had been hours before, which made that little happy feeling ripple through her again.

Mentally, she played back every word he had said to her from the moment he had emerged from under the invisibility cloak in the Head Master´s office, the words of love, the look in his eyes, his arms around her.

Her heart felt like it was swelling with happiness as she remembered his most recent promise, knowing that he loved her that much, knowing he was willing to stay with her no matter what.

Now, if only he and Harry would get back on speaking terms, she knew everything would be perfect.

Their incredibly tight-knit three-point friendship had been one of the things that had made Hogwarts become home for her and the idea of that friendship being destroyed was more than she could stand thinking about.

She knew that she couldn´t stand to lose either of them, but she also knew that if they didn´t start talking again, then she would be forced to choose between her best friend and her boyfriend and that was a choice she knew she couldn´t make.

As soon as Harry came up to the wing, she decided, they would sit down and talk and sort everything out.

The rustle of the curtains made her jolt upright instantly, grabbing for her wand where it always lay on the nightstand and pointing it shakily at the figure who had just stepped through the drapes.

Beside her, Ron popped up, startled, squinting around blearily. "Wha?"

A gasp of relief escaped Hermione when she realised that it was the Head Master standing there, one hand spread on her chest as she tried to slow the frantic pounding of her heart.

"I apologise," Dumbledore said gently. "It appears that I startled you, Miss Granger."

Nodding, Hermione swallowed hard, her breath escaping in pants. "Just a little," she replied, half-laughing faintly. Lowering her wand, her smile was shaky. "Silly me... I-I thought you were someone else..."

Ron´s arm slid around her shoulder and she pressed against his side, bowing her head and pressing her hands to her forehead. Drawing calming breaths, she ran her hands over her cheeks, then lifted her face to the Head Master again.

"S-sorry about that," she stammered. "I-I´m still a little jumpy."

"Love?" She looked at Ron. "Is... is this what you´ve been like all this time?" She paused, then nodded reluctantly. "Oh, Hermione..." The guilt and pain that crossed his face made her forgive him a hundred times over. "I should have been there for you. I should have helped you."

Looking up at him, she lowered her head to rest on his shoulder. "You´re here now, Ron," she said, his arms tightening around her. "That´s what counts." His chin nudged the top of her head and she raised her eyes to Dumbledore. "What´s happening?"

"I thought I ought to inform you that Lucius Malfoy has been formally charged by the Ministry of Magic and will stand trial as soon as is possible," he said. "Although he still protests his innocence and that he was acting under imperius."

Ron said something that his mother would have washed his mouth out for, which questioned Malfoy´s lineage, suggested that the wizard did things no normal wizard would do with his wand and implied something about intimate relations with sheep.

If she hadn´t been feeling so very sick, Hermione knew she would have laughed.

"It is unlikely that he was under any curse," Dumbledore agreed. "However, he does have the fact that many would attest that he would never touch a muggle-born in a gesture of politeness, let alone an intimate way."

Hermione pressed her knuckles against her lips, crushing them against her teeth hard enough to draw blood, the tangy, metallic taste bitter on her tongue as she blinked down tears.

"That´s probably why he did it!" Ron exclaimed savagely. "Because no one would believe he would touch a muggle-born!"

"He might still get away with it," Hermione whispered, her shaking voice muffled by the hand still pressed against her mouth. She felt hot and cold at once, dizziness whirling around her. "He-he could use that to argue his point."

Dumbledore approached the bed, his expression grave. "I know this seems hopeless at the moment, Hermione," he said softly. "But he has placed himself in a precarious position. We will ensure that he will be charged and condemned for what he has done to you."

Wiping fugitive tears with the back of her hand, Hermione nodded, sniffing hard. "I-I want to see him r-rot," she whispered with vehemence. "He-he isn´t going to get to hurt anyone else like this. No one else."

"That´s my girl," Ron squeezed her proudly.

Smiling wanly, Hermione laid her head against his collarbone, systematically wiping away the tears that continued to slide, unsolicited, down her chilly face. "P-Professor, where did my parents go?"

"I believe they have joined Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout for the evening meal, Miss Granger," Dumbledore replied. "They did not believe you would wake for some time, but if you wish to see them presently..."

Hermione shook her head. "No," she said, sniffing a little. "Let them have their dinner. I-I don´t want to distract them." There was a moment of silence, then she hesitantly asked. "Could... could someone get Harry?"

There was a sound of surprise from Ron.

"Wait a minute," he said, looking down at Hermione. "He... he knew what you were doing, didn´t he?" Hermione nodded, confusion on her face. "Why hasn´t he showed up here, yet? I mean, he knows you´d be here after and he´d want to be here..."

Hermione´s brow tightened, a nervous swoop of sickness in her stomach. "Well, it was the last Hogsmeade weekend before Christmas, isn´t it?" she suggested, an edge of uneasiness in her voice. "Maybe he decided to do last minute shopping. Did he tell you where he was going?"

"Why would he tell me?" Ron looked bemused.

"The cloak... wasn´t that Harry´s?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Actually, Miss Granger, that cloak was provided by me. We did intend to use Harry´s, but Harry had already left the common room with his broom by the time we went to find him."

"He did say he wanted to do some training," Hermione acknowledged, fingering the blankets that covered her legs pensively. "Maybe he went to Hogsmeade after. He is awfully disorganised when it comes to Christmas."

"That is certainly very true," the Head master smiled slightly. "And I do know that most of the remaining seniors did go into Hogsmeade together. They ought to be back shortly, in time for the evening meal. Do you want me to have Harry come here at once, when they return?"

Hermione nodded at once. "Please."

She needed to see him, to tell him what happened that afternoon, to have both him and Ron to keep her safe and make her laugh, like they always did before Malfoy had come and ruined everything.

And to rebuild the shattered relationship between Ron and Harry.

More than anything, she needed both of them.

"And tell him..." Ron began, faltered, then finished. "Tell him he can come and beat the stuffing out of my for being a twit."

"I´ll be sure to relay the message on," the Head Master said with a sympathetic smile at Ron. He looked at Hermione. "Do you wish to have anything to eat presently, Miss Granger? You will need to rebuild your strength."

"Just a sandwich," she replied shakily. "I-I think that´s all I could manage to keep down at the moment."

Dumbledore nodded and was gone.

Madam Pomfrey flitted in briefly and crammed some chocolate into Hermione´s mouth, doling some out to the rather startled Ron for good measure, leaving them both - in Hermione´s opinion - resembling hamsters.

Leaning into Ron´s embrace, Hermione was happy to just be in his arms again, warm and safe.

"Are you all right?" Ron asked softly, several minutes later.

The absurdity of the whole situation poured in on her with those four words: she had had her throat cut by the father of her illegitimate child, created when she was raped, and was lying in the hospital wing in the arms of her until-recently-estranged boyfriend after waving her wand threateningly at the Head Master and Ron asked if she was all right.

Unable to stop it, a hysterical little giggle escaped her.

"Er..."

Wrapping her arms tightly around Ron, who seemed utterly bemused by her reaction, she started laughing earnest, although she couldn´t explain the tears streaming down her face. "I´ve missed you so much," she gasped between giggles.

"And you laughing and crying at the same time is a good thing, is it?" he asked awkwardly. Hermione managed to stop laughing long enough to wipe her face on the back of her hand and nod, fresh tears replacing those she just mopped up. "Bloody hell, Hermione... have you left a tap running in there or something?"

"Ron..." she started to chastise, laughing again as she swatted his chest.

Raising his hand, he caught the sleeve of his jumper in his teeth and pulled it down over his hand, then gently wiped the streaks of salty tears from her pale cheeks, with a small smile. "Better?"

"Well, I do actually need to blow my nose," she admitted, sniffing hard and raising her eyebrows in question.

Ron looked down at his jumper. "If I wasn´t wearing it, I might well have let you do that, love," he said, his jumper-covered hand still touching her cheek. He gave her an affectionate look that sent her heart in a wild bungee leap from her chest to her toes and back again.

Her hand that was pressed against his chest hesitantly moved up, pausing, shaking at his collar. Their eyes locked, held unbearably, and Hermione wet her suddenly-dry lips with her tongue, her heart fluttering rapidly.

Sliding her hand over his shoulder, she ran her fingers into the unruly ginger tufts of hair that were sticking up in all directions. Ron made no move to push her or stop her, never taking his eyes from hers.

Licking her lips again, a nervous gesture, she felt a rush of warmth as Ron´s lips curled into the most understanding smile she had ever seen. He knew, somehow, that she needed to be the one to bring them together, that she had to face the fear.

She drew several slow breaths to calm her jolting nerves, then timidly drew Ron´s lips down onto hers, her eyes closing as they met. His lips were warm, dry and soft, the traces of chocolate lingering on them.

Her other hand rose to press against his chest as he hesitantly returned the kiss, his embrace gentle, more gentle than she could imagine Ron being, one hand stroking through her hair, the other arm around her body and spread on her back.

A little sigh of pleasure escaped her as he drew back, his fingers - liberated from the jumper - caressing her cheek. Her eyes felt too heavy to open and she felt utterly contented and satisfied right at that moment.

He had treated her like she was made of the most fragile glass, holding her with the care she needed now, if she was to become accustomed to people touching her again and he had made her tingle right down to her toes.

"All right?" Ron´s voice broke into her thoughts.

Half-opening her eyes, snuggled cosily against his chest, Hermione nodded with a small smile. "Just enjoying the moment," she replied throatily, her head coming to rest against his shoulder again, fingers walking back down his chest.

"Is this one of those times that I should say something important?" he asked. She felt him frown against her brow, her own lips twitching in a smile. "Or is this one of those times when we´re quiet? Or both? Is it possible to do both?"

Rubbing her head against his shoulder, she raised her hand and pressed her fingertips to his lips. "Ron," she murmured. "Sh."

"So this is one of those be-quiet things, eh?"

"Ron."

"I know, I know. Sh."

Hermione smiled as he leaned back against the pillows and let her curl closer against his chest, his arms around her. "Yes," she acknowledged drowsily, spreading a palm over his heart. "Sh."

***

She must have slept again, although she didn´t realise.

Her eyes felt unbearably heavy, but she was aware when she heard voices nearing and felt Ron shake her shoulder, stirring her from her somnambulistic state. Sitting up, she felt his arm around her shoulder, safe.

Blinking, rubbing her eyes with one hand, she glanced towards the window and was startled to see that the moon was hanging, a gleaming grin, high in the dark velvet of the night sky, which was sprinkled with stars and dashes of cloud.

The curtains by the bed opened and the Head Master and Professor McGonagall both looked in, consternation written on their faces.

"Miss Granger, Mr Weasley, has Mr Potter visited recently?"

"Harry?" Hermione looked up at Ron, who appeared as confused as she felt. A sick feeling of foreboding spread in her stomach. "No. I-I thought he was in Hogsmeade... and you were waiting until he got back?"

Professor McGonagall´s lips thinned, her face pale and more tired-looking than Hermione could remember it being. "We have spoken to the Senior students who went to Hogsmeade. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan invited Mr Potter to join them, but he declined. He claimed he was going to practise on the Quidditch field."

"Maybe he´s still down there!" Hermione exclaimed, pulling the blankets back with the intention of running down to the pitch to prove that Harry was - in fact - there, but her vision was already blurring dizzily. "Oh..."

"Easy, Hermione," Ron helped her sit back down, her body feeling oddly numb. "I don´t think you should try and do anything yet. You need to let your blood thing get back to normal."

"But Harry..." Hermione protested. "Professor Dumbledore, send someone to the pitch! He´s probably there."

"For eight hours?" McGonagall said. "Miss Granger...."

"He loves Quidditch!" Hermione knew her voice was shrill and panicked, but she shook her head determinedly. "He has to be there! If he isn´t, maybe he´s at Hagrid´s or in the common room!"

"Have you tried Hagrid?" Ron added, his hands on Hermione´s upper arms, gently drawing her back against his chest. Her head was pulsing painfully and she squeezed her temples, wincing.

"I´m afraid that Hagrid has not seen Harry all day," Dumbledore replied, his voice tired. "We also sent someone to check the Quidditch pitch. There was no sign of him there, either. I need to ask both of you if there would be any reason that Harry would depart from the school."

"He wouldn´t!" Hermione exclaimed, as vehemently as she could, the fingertips of her left hand pressing against her temple, her other hand gripping one of Ron´s as the head ache continued to throb inside her skull. "He wouldn´t leave me... he promised."

"Miss Granger, we are aware of this, but..."

"You think You-Know-Who got to him," Ron´s voice sounded strangely deadened, his hand shaking against Hermione´s and she realised that he was probably right. Her eyes lifted, staring at the two teachers, who exchanged looks.

"Oh no..." she whispered, shaking her head, an immense fist contracting on her gut and twisting hard until she felt utterly sick with shock and dismay. "No... he can´t have taken Harry..."

"We don´t yet know what has happened, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said in what Hermione supposed was meant to be a soothing tone, which did absolutely nothing to help. "He might be somewhere within the school we have not considered."

"Like where?" Hermione challenged hysterically.

"Hermione," Dumbledore´s voice was measured and calm as always. "There are many areas in the school and it is possible that Harry received word and went to meet Snuffles, as he is nearby."

"Snuffles..." Ron slowly nodded. "Yeah, he would want to see Snuffles..."

"But he wouldn´t go on his own! He would always take..." Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening in sudden, horrified realisation. "Oh no... Ron!" One hand grasped at Ron´s jumper. "He was on his own! Harry was completely on his own!"

She felt the colour draining from her face, her breathing growing staggered and she heard Ron swear in stunned understanding, as he realised just what she was saying.

"Miss Granger, just because Mister Potter was alone..."

"No," Hermione interrupted, her voice shrill. "You don´t understand. Harry is never on his own. Ever since You-Know-Who returned, we´ve always made sure that he had someone with him when we were here. Always. And today, he... he was alone. It´s the chance You-Know-Who has been waiting for... and now, he has him."

Dumbledore´s expression was tight, but he tried to smile in a reassuring fashion. "I do not think it wise to make such assumptions yet, Miss Granger," he said, although it lacked his usual enthusiasm.

"It´s too late for making assumptions," Hermione said, her voice trembling. "He has him. You-Know-Who has Harry."

"I´m afraid Miss Granger is right," another voice said a heartbeat before Professor Snape stepped through the drapes, his face pale and sheened with sweat. He appeared to be having trouble standing upright, leaning heavily on the table at the foot of the bed. "Potter was delivered to the Dark Lord this evening."

He had not approached either of them since he had told Ron about his girlfriend´s secret and Ron´s glare was only countered by the anxiety in the red-haired boy´s dark brown eyes.

While Snape deplored the trio of friends, in particular Harry, and the feeling was reciprocated, they had known of his double-agent role since the middle of fifth year. He could speak in front of them, when he needed to talk with Dumbledore and they were present, although he only did so in great emergencies.

"Were you summoned?" Hermione demanded shrilly. "Did you see him? Have they hurt him? How did they get him? What happened?"

"Hermione," The Head Master made a calming gesture for silence, then turned to the Potions Professor, who was looking sickly and wan. "Severus, have you seen him? Is he still alive?"

"For the time being, yes," Snape replied, pressing one hand to his forehead. "He is to be executed ritually as a lesson within the next few days."

"Is he unharmed?"

A shadow passed over Snape´s features. "Young Malfoy was the one to deliver him with a portkey. He allowed his lackeys to beat the boy into unconsciousness. The Dark Lord was not pleased. He wishes... that is, he wants the boy to be... intact for the ceremony."

"Ceremony?"

"I-I do not know the details," the Potions Professor´s eyes were sliding in and out of focus and Hermione felt a bitter taste of sympathy for the man, who clearly suffered a great deal in his attempt to make amends. "Nor could I gain access to his cell, because he is aware of who I am. I am uncertain how many of the circle are permitted access."

"We could send help," Hermione said urgently. "Send Aurors..."

"No," Snape´s voice was a rasping growl, his breathing staggered. "Even if we knew where they were holding him, should they attack, Potter would be dead before they even breached the wards."

"You have no idea where they are, Severus?"

His hand still pressed to his forehead, Snape shook his head, a tight, jerking motion, his eyes closed. "I tried to identify the locale, Head Master, but they have placed unplottable charms on it. They are taking no chances."

"Very well," Dumbledore raised a hand to squeeze Snape´s shoulder. "I trust you will be seeing Pomfrey immediately, Severus." The dark teacher nodded, that same, jerky movement again, his right hand grasping his left forearm, his fingers twitching convulsively. "Take some rest."

"I-I am sorry that I could not do more to aid you, sir," For the briefest of moments, Snape almost seemed like a child apologising to his father and Hermione looked from him to Dumbledore.

"You did all that you could, Severus," the Head Master answered softly. "I could not ask for more than that. Seek rest and recover your strength."

The dark teacher disappeared through the curtains and Hermione, still enclosed in Ron´s arms, pressed her face into her hands for a long moment. "What are we going to do?" she asked unsteadily, her fingertips grinding against her temples bruisingly.

Dumbledore had never looked older, every care in the world weighting down his frail, stooped shoulders, his face lined with sorrow. He closed his eyes, grief palpable, and voice carried all the despair, anger, grief and hurt she knew she was feeling, when he replied, "I am afraid there is nothing we can do."

"What?" Ron half-shouted. "But Harry! He can´t kill Harry!"

Hermione could feel the prickling burn behind her eyes of tears of anger, despair and frustration. "He can, Ron," she forced the words out bitterly. "He can and he will and he knows we can´t do damned a thing to stop him."