Fractured Triangle

Ten hours had passed since news of Harry´s kidnap had reached his two friends in the Medical wing and, in those hours, Hermione could honestly believe that they had run through every possible emotion on the spectrum.

There was no question of sleeping through the night, not one.

Hermione´s parents had come to the wing as soon as they heard she was awake, but she told them that they had to leave, that if Voldemort did succeed, the wizarding world wasn´t going to be safe for them to be around.

They had refused to leave her initially, but when Hermione had broken down into pained, wracking sobs, desperately pleading that they get away to somewhere that might be safer than the school or wizarding world, they had reluctantly acquiesced, although they had tried to convince her to join them.

She couldn´t though.

Leaving Hogwarts now would mean leaving Ron behind and showing that she felt there was no hope for Harry´s survival, which she couldn´t do. There had to be hope. There always had to be. If not, what was life worth living for?

Through a window in the medical wing, she had watched her parents depart from the school across the grounds to take a portkey home, wrapped up in her dressing gown, ignoring Madam Pomfrey´s orders to get back into bed.

Even after they had long gone, she remained, standing by the window, staring blindly out through the glass as she turned things over and over in her mind, trying not to give way to grief or hysteria.

Every time she thought of Harry, of the hurt he must have gone through already, it was like a physical blow that threatened to double her over and leave her writhing in agony on the floor.

And it was her fault, too, she knew.

Turning around, blinking hard, her arms tightly wrapped around her body but still doing nothing to stave of the chill that went to her very bones, she made her way over to her unmade bed, sitting down amidst the tangled blankets.

Outside, the pale smear of bluish light spreading up from the dark horizon suggested that dawn was on its way, the near-clear sky splattered with dashes of pale, frail-looking wisps of cloud.

Pulling her knees up to her chest, Hermione drew the blankets up to her chin, which was resting atop her knees, blinking hard. Her arms clamped tightly around her legs, her hands were clenched under her chin.

Birdsong outside the windows sounded painfully loud and far too happy for her to deal with, the way she was feeling. As silent tears leaked down her cheeks, she wanted to scream at them to shut up.

Her best friend, the person she could talk to about everything, was gone and it was her fault.

If she hadn´t tried to be brave and strong, if she hadn´t asked to face Lucius Malfoy, she would have remained in the medical wing and Harry would have been with her and he would never have been taken.

On top of that, if she hadn´t been such a selfish idiot and acted like a frightened little girl every time Ron had come near her, Ron and Harry wouldn´t have fallen out and Harry wouldn´t have been on his own for Malfoy Junior to get to him.

It would have been better, she knew, if she had not come back to Hogwarts this year.

Everything would have been so much easier for everyone: Malfoy would not have got to her, she wouldn´t have upset everything, Ron and Harry would never have fallen out and left each other unprotected.

Curling into a ball on her side in the middle of the bed, she pressed her eyes shut, determined not to cry, her eyes burning from too many tears shed already. Pressing her lips together so hard, she could taste blood, she wound her hands into the blankets and tried to force down the urges she had to hurt herself for causing so much pain.

Her fists in the sheets pressed against her breastbone and she could feel the skin bruising, which only made her press harder, wishing she could have someone, anyone slap her for being such an idiot, for bringing such misery and pain on the people she cared about most.

Everything that Malfoy had said to her rang back in her ears, taunting her, mocking her, reminding her of how her friends did not need her, that they would have been so much better without her.

If Ron had been present, she would have asked him to do it, but he was gone.

He probably would have refused anyway, because Ron had always said he would never hit a girl, but if he was as angry at her as she felt towards herself, then she knew there was a real chance he would want to smack her a shot.

But he wasn´t present, once again.

As soon as her parents had arrived, he had stalked out of the medical wing, a look of bitter rage on his face, the expression that had been directed at her not so many days ago back in full measure.

Who it was directed at, though, she didn´t know.

All she knew was that it felt like Ron couldn´t face her again, in spite of everything, although she wasn´t sure if that was really the case. He hadn´t even said anything before leaving, his face so white that every freckle stood out in sharp relief.

She didn´t know how she would be able to face him, if he did come back to her side, though. Would he blame her, like she blamed herself? Would he try to pretend that it wasn´t her fault that all this was happening?

Bringing her chin down to rest on her chest, she pressed her clenched fists against her chin and lips, rocking unsteadily back and forth, wishing that she could escape the suddenly claustrophobic atmosphere of the immense wing.

Madam Pomfrey had refused to let her depart, though.

All she wanted to do was go deep into the school, find a nice, dark corner of a room, curl up in it and never come out, so no one she cared about could ever be hurt again by her and her stupidity.

There was the ulterior motive as well.

She wanted to hunt down Draco Malfoy and to hex him with all the spells she could remember, to within an inch of his life, then kick him until that inch was left as little more than a millimetre, then leave him to rot.

That was unlikely to happen, though.

After all, he had just delivered Harry to the Dark Lord, so it was hardly likely that he was going to come back to the school, unless he believed that he had got away with it and thought that no one knew.

Of course, there was the chance he wouldn´t be able to keep his mouth shut

To take the responsibility for Harry´s capture and dea... no! NO! The vehemence of the thought made her jolt on the mattress. No, she couldn´t start to think like that! She couldn´t imagine Harry would die.

He had overcome tremendous obstacles before! He could do it again.

He could.

He had to.

He promised.

But how is he meant to defeat You-Know-Who?, the malicious little voice at the back of her mind hissed. It had been silent since she had been in Dumbledore´s office, but now, alone and in the silence of the ward, it rasped in her ears. He doesn´t even have a wand with him!

"He´ll be all right," Hermione whispered stubbornly against her clenched fist, the knuckles white. She could taste blood on her lips, some slight pain from where they had been crushed against her teeth. Smears of red licked the pale skin. "He will be."

You don´t believe it.

I do! I do I do I do I do!

Who are you trying to convince?

Shut up! Harry´ll be all right! He´ll be fine!

Of course he will. And Malfoy will apologise.

Squeezing her eyes shut and grinding her teeth together, Hermione could feel hot moisture leak down her cheeks, soaking the pillows. Her body shuddered, the frenzied rocking reduced to violent tremors.

Tossing onto her back, then her side again, Hermione tried to push the thoughts of Harry being dead away, but they kept crowding in on her. Whispering. Murmuring. Terrifying her to the point that she scrambled out of the bed, collapsing onto the floor as her legs melted out beneath her with a half-sob, half-scream.

The curtains around the bed were flung wide almost instantly and Madam Pomfrey hurried in, stopping short, her expression one of shock as Hermione lifted her face, which was contorted in pain and misery.

"Miss Granger..."

A ticklish trickle ran down Hermione´s chin and she raised a shaking hand, her fingertips coming away, stained red. Staring blankly at her hand, which was shaking she noticed absently, she started to laugh.

She couldn´t say why, but the laughter just bubbled out of her, hysterical, ringing to the rafters of the medical wings. It hung there, echoing into silence, like the deranged howls of a madwoman.

Hugging her arms across her chest, leaving bloody fingerprints on the sleeve of her nightshirt, still laughing in wild little spurts, she started rocking on her knees. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

"Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey´s skirts swam into her unfocussed line of sight and she felt hands on her shoulders, as the nurse seemed to sink down, her heavy dress skirts spreading on the floor. "Miss Granger, I need you to look at me."

Shaking her head jerkily, Hermione´s laughter gave way to choked whimpers. "He´s gone... he´s gone and he promised he would stay... he promised... he promised me he would stay... and he´s gone..."

A hand touched her chin, lifting it and she tried to find the strength to pull away, but her body refused to comply and she found grey-blue eyes staring at her with concern and worry. "Miss Granger, it will..."

"Don´t tell me it´ll be all right!"

The words tore from Hermione´s throat in a frenzied scream, as she jerked back from the nurse, slamming against the wall behind the head of the bed. Shaking her head, her hair swirling around her face, her breathing grew ragged.

"Don´t you dare to lie to me... don´t you dare..." she panted, pointing accusingly at the nurse, whose expression was one of anxiety. She felt so angry, like a flame had been lit beneath her and everything was boiling to the surface, ready to explode in a fit of violent fury. She had never been violent before, but Hermione had never wanted to break something more than she did as she turned on Pomfrey. "He´s gone! You-Know-Who has him! Don´t try and patronise me!"

Pomfrey´s face went chalk-white, red blotches appearing on her cheeks, like they did on Snape´s when he was utterly livid. Her lips pressed together, clearly struggling to control her own emotions.

She was probably worried about Harry, Hermione knew. She probably was feeling the anger that Hermione felt towards herself. Why would they care about her, the stupid girl who caused it all? She was the one who had sent The-Boy-Who-Lived, her best, most trusted friend, to his doom.

"I was not..."

"You were... you were going to tell me everything´ll be all right... and that no one will hate me... blame me... point at me... say it´s my fault..." Her words trailed off into shaking sobs. "M-my fault... it´s all my fault..."

Hands on her shoulders startled her, started to draw her towards a comforting body to soothe her, but Hermione went rigid, her eyes widening. How could she be comforted when Harry was dying? How could she be so selfish?

"Get off me!"

Lunging forward, she knocked Pomfrey over, scrambling to her feet and running. A cry after her didn´t stop her. Where she was going, she didn´t know. All she did know was that she had to get away from the medical wing, away from the sympathy, away from the pity, from anything.

Her bare feet slapped against the cold stone of the floor, the frosty air catching her breath, puffs of crystal-white pouring from her cut lips. The chill stung her bare skin through her thin nightshirt, goosebumps rising all over.

Staggering to a stop, her arms crossed over her chest in a vain attempt to warm herself, she looked around, unsure where to go, the tears on her cheeks stinging as the cold pricked at them

A gust of ice-crisp fresh air swept down the hall, wrapping the loose, flapping fabric of her nightshirt around her ankles, the scent of the winter morning outside flooding her senses.

In spite of the cold, Hermione made her way towards the staircase, the whole school quiet, as it usually was so early in the morning. The floor grew increasingly chilled, her feet clumping heavily - numbed - on the stone.

By the time she reached the main door, her teeth were clattering together, but she still pushed the door open, her eyes screwing up as she pushed the door open, the brilliant whiteness of the sun on the snow dazzling her.

Stepping out of the door, a hiss of shock escaped her as the dusty crystals of ice stung at the soles of her bare feet, penetrating the numbness like shards of glass, her arms tightening over her chest.

"Hermione?"

Ron.

Closing her eyes, Hermione pressed her lips together, tears stinging on her cheeks at the familiar voice, only paces behind her. She heard him nearing, cautious, as if afraid of causing further damage.

"Love, what are you doing out here? You´ll catch your death..."

Hot tears dripped onto her sleeves, soaking rapidly through the thin material. "Maybe it would be better for everyone if I did," she whispered, her voice shaking so much with cold and misery that it was barely comprehensible.

She heard, almost visualised the sharp intake of breath. "Hermione!" He approached and she winced when he laid large hands on her shoulders. They weren´t warm, but compared to her the heat felt like it had scorched her skin. "Don´t say that!"

Shaking his hands off, Hermione turned to face him, shivering. Even so, it felt like her stomach was even colder than the rest of her, solidifying into an agonisingly tight mass. "T-tell me it´s not my fault," she stammered. "T-t-tell me that if I h-hadn´t been here, th-they would still have got H-Harry."

Brown eyes looked down at her with a combination of shock and pain, his hands coming up to almost, but not quite touch her shoulders. "Is that what this is about?" he asked, staring at her.

"Tell me!" she sobbed wildly, jerking back from his hands, her own shaking hands rising to clamp against her temples, her fingertips biting painfully into her scalp. "Tell me it´s not my fault!" Her voice rose in pitch and hysteria. "Tell me that me being a stupid, selfish little girl who couldn´t deal with my own problems is nothing to do with Harry getting taken and hurt! Tell me I did nothing to cause this! Tell me it wasn´t because of me!"

There was a brief silence that seemed to hang for eternity, although it could have barely lasted a heartbeat, then Ron replied quietly.

"It wasn´t you."

Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn´t that.

Hermione felt like a massive weight had been lifted from her shoulders, her hands slowly sinking down from her face. "Wh-what did you say?" she whispered, her throat so tight she could barely form the words.

"I said," Ron repeated gently, so careful, taking a step towards her. "It wasn´t you. You would never be the cause of something like this." He slowly extended a hand to her and nodded in assent when she tried to shake her head. "You know I´m right, Hermione. This wasn´t your fault. It was them. It was never, ever you."

Unable to smother a violent sob, she crashed straight into Ron´s arms, wrapping herself entirely in his embrace, the heat of his body spreading through her own, which was as cold as marble.

"Bloody hell, Hermione! You´re freezing! How long have you been out here?"

The energy to reply, the words she wanted to say, they were all gone, silenced, and she could only stare up at him helplessly as tears burned silent acid furrows down the chilled porcelain of her skin.

Ron peeled off the thick, green woolly jumper he was wearing, which was bobbled and faded from too many washes, yanking it over her head and lifting her arms to tuck them into the over-long sleeves. It hung almost to her knees.

"Let´s get you back to the wing," he suggested, only pausing to lift her hair free from the collar of the jumper, before bending slightly and lifting her up in his arms, her own arms wrapping tightly around his neck.

Pressing her face to the junction of his neck and shoulder, she clung to him, warmth seeping back into her icy body.

He was murmuring to her, she couldn´t make out what, but it assured her that her numb arms and body weren´t deceiving her and that he was still present, holding her so securely.

"R-Ron," she whispered, as he made his way up one of the broad staircases, carrying her as if she weighed less than a child. "Wh-where were you?"

His lips brushed against her temple. "Sirius and Remus were here," he replied in an undertone. "Dumbledore was explaining what was happening and I wanted to know what the plans were... I didn´t think it would take so long."

"Plans?" She felt his arms tighten around her and the tensing of his jaw, a sure sign that he hadn´t been pleased with the outcome. "Ron?"

"S´like Dumbledore said last night," the reply came tersely, his arms shifting beneath her. "They can´t do anything. They haven´t got a clue where he is and there´s no way they can find out without him getting even deeper in trouble."

Deeper in trouble.

As if being in Voldemort´s hands wasn´t bad enough.

"They went searching for the usual places that Snape knew about," he continued in a low voice. "Even if they find the right place, they don´t know what they´re going to do. Dumbledore wants them and Snape back here for sunset to see if anything has turned up."

Letting her head rest against Ron´s shoulder, Hermione tried to pick through the mish-mash of thoughts roiling around in her mind, her arms slipping from Ron´s neck with the sheer exhaustion she was feeling, too tired to hold on, too tired to move, too tired to even open her eyes.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

Tilting her head slightly to look at him, her head aching and her throat, lips and eyes sore from too much emotion expended in too short a time frame, she whispered, "I don´t want to go back to the wing. Take me to my room?"

"You sure?"

Nodding wearily against his shoulder, she closed her eyes. "It´s... it´s too big... the medical wing..." she said in a hoarse voice. "I-I feel too small. Isolated. I-I want to feel safe... somewhere I know well."

"What´s the password?"

For the first time all day, Hermione´s lips lifted in the faintest suggestion of a weak smile. "Goddesses only," she replied, the snort from Ron suggesting that he wasn´t surprised. "Lavender´s choice."

"I couldn´t tell," Ron murmured. "You and them... they knew?" Hermione nodded, tensing a little. What if he was angry about her neglecting to tell him that too? "So you weren´t completely on your own," he remarked, much to her astonishment, her eyes actually opening in surprise. "I´m glad about that."

Unable to voice anything else, she let herself drift close between sleep and the touch of unconsciousness, her head so heavy she could barely hold it against his shoulder, as he walked.

Her awareness only returned when she was laid on her own bed. The ecstatic purr of Crookshanks told her that much and she felt him walking around her head, where it lay on the pillow, his nose nudging her cheek in welcome.

Unable to even summon the strength to open her eyes, she felt blankets tucked around her moments before a warm, safe, familiar body spooned behind her, arms sliding around her waist.

"We shouldn´t sleep..." she mumbled, making a futile effort to make her thawing body move, but Ron tightened his arms around her, drawing her down. In front of her, she felt her cat snuggle in a ball against her belly, nudging Ron´s hand aside. "Ron... we should help... do something..."

"What can we do, love?" His breath was hot through her hair and she could hear the underlying frustration and pain in his voice. "If they can´t do anything, then how are we meant to? And you... you need to sleep. You were hurt yesterday and now..." The heat of his lips brushed over her cheek. "Get some rest."

"But I..."

"Hermione," he chastised. "Get. Some. Rest."

Reluctantly closing her eyes, Hermione nodded, nestling back against him and giving into the exhaustion that had been threatening to overwhelm her for hours.

***

It was Crookshanks that woke her, stretching and pressing his paws against her thigh, walking in a circle, then strolling across her head to leap down off the bed.

Glancing towards the window, the morning light had been replaced with afternoon sunlight, flaring into a corona of colours across the sky. Sunset was approaching, as far as she could tell.

"You awake?"

"Ron!"

She felt him nod against her shoulder, one of his bare arms about her waist, his palm spread on her stomach. "Didn´t want to wake you," he said quietly. "Y´looked so peaceful and you needed it."

"You should have woken me," she murmured, struggling to sit up, rubbing her arms through the jumper. A smile reached her lips, when she realised it was still Ron´s. "I-I should have told the teachers where we were."

"Don´t worry about that," Ron answered, sitting up beside her and tucking her hair behind her ears reverently. "Dobby popped in a little while ago and took a message to Dumbledore for us. Apparently Madam Pomfrey went spare when she lost you, and she wants you back in the wing for a check up."

Hermione´s face fell. "I-I´d rather not," she mumbled.

"Love, you have to," Ron said gently, lifting her face in his hands, his expression one of concern. "You might have gone and got a cold or something worse, running around the school in your nightie and I don´t want to risk anything else happening to you. With the luck we´ve had lately, it can´t get much worse and we´ll need you here if... I mean, when Harry gets back. Maybe we can sort this whole mess out. We were always better as a team anyway..."

Hermione stared blankly at him, working over his words, thoughts racing through her mind. Pieces were starting to fit together at a frightening rate, but she had to be mistaken. She had to be.

"Hermione?"

Brown eyes stared at him. "They played with us," she said, her voice shaking. "They did this all on purpose."

Ron´s expression suggested he didn´t have a clue what she was talking about.

"Ron, who always helps Harry?" She grasped his hand, as she spoke. "Us! It´s always us! In first year, we had to work together to get to the Philosopher´s stone and we did it. In second year, it was same with the Chamber of Secrets. It´s been the same every year! They know that - together - we were a threat to You-Know-Who!"

"So they had to split us up..." Ron nodded, shock spreading on his features. "Those filthy bastards... they´re going to pay for this."

"We should have realised before. I mean, how obvious is it? You stop any one of us talking to Harry and there´s going to be problems," Hermione said slowly. "We were always a trio and now... it´s like the three sides of a triangle. You take one away and the other two fall."

"And we would lose the plot because we would both think that it´s our fault Harry was taken, because we weren´t with him..." Ron continued, a look of sickened awe spreading on his face. "And they wouldn´t have any of us to face You-Know-Who or be the symbolic group that could never be split up. The day we´re on our own is the day the wizarding world knows to piss its pants in fear." Hermione gave him a look, which he returned with an apologetic one, then remarked gravely. "I hate to say it, but the bloke´s a bloody genius."

"And all the while, everyone would think it was just because of us falling out."

Ron shook his head. "Scary... it´s just plain scary..." he murmured, one of his hands closing around one of hers. "How did he know how we´d react? I mean, all of us, so he could make it work for him?"

"I don´t know," she replied honestly, shifting as Crookshanks hopped back up onto the bed and crawled into her lap, butting his head under her hand. "I mean, no one else really knows us that..."

"Scabbers!" Ron was staring at Crookshanks, a look of furious understanding on his face. "Wormtail... that filthy little bastard! I should have known he wouldn´t be able to leave off and get a life! I bet his still hanging on You-Know-Who´s robes and telling him everything he wants to know."

Hermione looked down at her cat, then slowly nodded. "It would certainly make sense," she agreed, her voice shaking. "I-I didn´t imagine that he would hate us that much, but it makes sense..."

"Dumble´ll probably know about it already."

"What if he doesn´t?"

Ron´s eyes darted to the window. "Well, it´s almost time for Sirius and everyone to get back here," he said, sliding from the bed and offering her a hand, helping her get up. "We could drop in and see, but we`d have to get some dinner first."

"I-I want to see them," Hermione nodded, then looked down at herself. "But I think I would have to change first."

"I don´t know," Ron gave her an appraising look, a glint in his eyes. "I think you look kind of... cute and huggable in that outfit."

Shaking her head, Hermione made her way across to the wardrobe and pulled out a heavy, pleated, knee-length skirt and a blouse and jumper. "I would rather look normal, thank you," she said.

"You don´t mind going to the Great Hall? We could always have Dobby get some food or something..."

Hermione licked her lips, which suddenly felt strangely dry. "I-I-I have to face people sooner or later," she said, although it took all her nerve to voice the words. It made her shake to even think them.

"You´ll be fine, love," Ron said reassuringly. "And anyone that makes you feel even a tiny bit uncomfortable can talk to my fist." She gave him a look. "All right, then, we can... negotiate strenuously."

"You´re dreadful," she said with a tired laugh.

"And yet, you adore me," he retorted, flashing an irrepressible grin at her, although it faded quickly. "We better get a move on, if we want to eat before heading up. Want me to wait outside, while you get changed?"

Looking around, Hermione spotted her wand on her bedside locker. "Can you pass my wand?" she asked, transfiguring a chair into a dressing screen, which she slipped behind to change.

"Where´d you learn that spell?" Ron inquired through the screen.

"From your mum, after Percy walked in on me when I was changing last year," she replied, risking a glance around the screen in time to see Ron´s face go purple. "Oh, don´t worry. He didn´t see anything. He just blushed and ran away."

"I´m glad to hear it!" Ron exclaimed.

Behind the screen, Hermione couldn´t help smiling at him. "I know."

It was a few minutes later when they finally emerged from her room, to make their way down to the Great Hall, Ron looping an arm around her shoulders in both a reassuring and protective mantle. Her hands were both resting in his other hand.

"You all right?" he asked softly, as they entered the hall, a tremor running through her body.

"I-I´m fine," she nodded, drawing calming breaths, although her heart felt like it was rattling around inside her ribcage. "L-let´s just get something to eat and go. I-I don´t want to stay here to long."

Approaching the Gryffindor table, Hermione had never felt more painfully aware of eyes on her. She could feel Dean and Seamus staring, heat rising in her cheeks as a feeling of nausea spread through her stomach. Pressing her head against Ron´s collarbone, she shivered.

"All right?" Dean asked, as they sat.

"Why wouldn´t we be?" Ron replied, his tone cold.

There was a moment of silence, the Seamus spoke. "So you two are back together, then? Wondered what was going on with you."

"We never split up, Seamus," Hermione heard her voice say, no longer shaking, but cold and firm as Ron´s had been. "I don´t know where it is you´ve been getting your rumours from, but we´re happy together."

It was only as she finished speaking that she raised her eyes to see Dean and Seamus exchange bemused glances.

"Does Harry know about this?"

"Harry?" Hermione´s voice was a choked whisper. "Why wouldn´t he?"

Dean shrugged. "S´pose I thought he´d be behind the times because him and Ron have been fighting," he replied, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Maybe that´s why he ran off!"

"Ran...?"

Seamus nodded. "Don´t tell me they didn´t tell you!" Hermione wanted to retort and knew Ron felt the same, but she squeezed his hand to silence him. "Harry´s gone AWOL in a fit of temper, or so Brocklehurst was saying."

"I heard that he got in an argument with Snape," Dean remarked, pointing his fork at Seamus. "And that Snape was going to poison him so he made a run for it."

"Imagine that," Hermione said dully. "Ron... I´m not feeling too well."

Ron nodded against her forehead and she felt his arm tighten around her waist. "I know the feeling, love," he murmured. "Want to go and see if we can find out what´s going on?"

"You´ll let us know, right?" Dean demanded.

"We´ll see," Hermione let herself be negotiated onto her feet, suddenly even more grateful for Ron´s arm around her waist. To hear them talking so casually about her missing friend had made her stomach clench painfully.

Hurrying out of the hall, she kept her head down, her face contorted in the effort to stem tears that she didn´t want to fall, Ron directing her along the corridors and passages until they reached the gargoyle that led to Dumbledore´s office.

"Do you know the password?"

Ron nodded. "Everlasting gobstopper," he said, the gargoyle moving to reveal the ascending staircase. Both of them hopped on, Hermione´s grip on Ron´s tightening as they rose up towards the office. "You okay?"

"I don´t like this," she mumbled. "It makes me feel ill."

Ron´s quiet chuckle earned him a punch on the arm. "Oi!"

"Meanie," she mumbled, exhaling a breath of relief as they reached the peak, the door already cracked open slightly, allowing them both to be seen by the four present occupants of the room.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore said with a faint smile that didn´t reach his eyes, as he crossed the room to let them enter. "Mr Weasley. I did suspect that you might be joining us at some point."

"Any news?" Hermione asked immediately.

The Head Master shook his head, motioning them in. "I´m afraid not," he replied quietly. "Severus, Sirius and Remus have spent all day searching and I´m afraid it has proved in vain."

The three other men looked as grave as Dumbledore did. Sirius was sitting on the steps in front of the desk, his head buried in his hands, but looked up at Hermione´s voice, a sympathetic look crossing his face.

"Hermione," Rising to his feet, he crossed the room towards her. "I heard what happened. I..." He grasped her shoulders in sympathy and Hermione instinctively jerked back from the touch. "I´m sorry it happened."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, embarrassment and shock crossing her face. "You... I-I´m sorry, Sirius... I didn´t mean..."

Sirius nodded in understanding, taking a step back from her. "Don´t worry about it, Hermione," he said with an understanding half-smile. "I don´t blame you for reacting like that. You´ll be all right?" She nodded. "And you," he directed his words at Ron. "You´ll look after her."

"Course," Ron replied firmly. "So´ll Harry, when he gets back."

"Actually," Looks of surprise were exchanged as Dumbledore spoke. "Just a few moments before you all arrived, I did receive word from the Ministry. Apparently, they have a Death Eater who wishes to claim sanctuary in exchange for information."

Snape, situated in the shadows nearest the desk, snorted. "Head Master, it may be a trap to see what we know."

"Yes, Severus," Dumbledore agreed heavily, returning to his seat. "It may well be, but it also may be a genuine offer of information. I am not about to risk young Harry´s life through lack of knowledge. If this individual provides aid..."

"It´s better than nothing," Remus Lupin said quietly. "Did they say who it was?"

"No," Dumbledore replied. "Only that he had somehow portkeyed into the Ministry without warning, around twenty minutes ago. They are bringing him here, as he is refusing to talk to anyone but myself."

"By portkey?" Hermione asked, wrapping her arms over her chest, wondering if she would be able to face another Death Eater.

"I would assume so, as there was no mention of apparating to the boundaries of the school. It will be more secure. Professor McGonagall will meet them." There was a rasp of stone against stone, a suggestion that the staircase to the office was moving again. "And it appears that they are on their way here already."

In front of the desk, Sirius immediately shifted back into the form of the great black dog, Lupin moving alongside him to lay a hand on his head, as if Sirius was his pet.

Behind them, Snape folded his arms over his chest and shrank back into the darkness even further, if that were possible, becoming barely distinguishable from the shadows that surrounded him.

Stepping back from the line of sight of the door with Ron, his arms wrapping entirely around her in a secure blanket, Hermione felt a knot of cold twisting in her stomach, licking her lips nervously.

The door opened, allowing Professor McGonagall to enter. Her face looked white as a sheet and she had one hand spread over her chest, as if in shock. "The Aurors are here, Head Master," she said in a somewhat shaky voice.

Two Aurors entered behind her, followed by a smaller third figure, whom everyone in the room recognised, but it was Lupin who voiced his name, as the small, frail-looking, balding man raised tiny, rodent-like eyes.

"Peter!"