Fractured Triangle

Notes: Apologies for the major delay on this chapter, but life caught up with me. I've a) just finished uni, b) moved from one side of Scotland to the other, c) had friends visiting, d) had my computer disassembled, e) moved to Sweden for the summer, f) have been working like crazy full time, g) Country-hopping for Graduation and the like (I'm a BA with Honours! Yeah baby!). Obviously, mildly busy.

I also want the world to know that while I'm typing this, I haven't got my copy of OotP yet, hence I am not best pleased because somebody forgot to put spoiler tags up and I saw more than I needed to. Grr. Hence, the need to write something darkish, so I chose this.

P.S. The dates may be a little off for the school terms, because I don't have my books and I really needed these dates like this. I may be off by a day or two, so I'm hoping you will forgive the error.

P.P.S. Also, there's a sort-of tribute to Anya's absolutely fantastic and hilarious fic The Naked Quidditch Match in here, because it's one of the few humour fics that has kept me reading from start to finish, in one go. And it was actually *gasp* funny!

___________________________________________

She felt safe.

Safer than she had in many months, at least.

From what she remembered from the previous night, they were in her bedroom, the one she shared with Lavender and Parvati, although neither of the girls had yet returned from the Christmas holidays.

With all the chaos which had been ongoing, with the attempted abortion, the revelation of everything, the encounter with Malfoy and the attack, on top of Harry's kidnap and dramatic return only the night before, all thoughts of Christmas and celebrating had been wiped from Hermione's mind.

She could barely even recall what day it was.

For all she knew and cared, it might well have passed Midsummer's day. All she could remember was that she had taken her potion on the twenty-fourth, because she had wanted everything out of the way before Christmas and, lo how well that had turned out.

So much had happened, so much that should have - by rights - fitted into far more than the week or less which had passed. It was strange that everything seemed to happen at once, yet there was still so much time left over.

And now, it was almost all over, everything, and she was back and safely wrapped up between two of the people who made her feel more safe and comfortable than anyone else she knew.

Her eyes were still closed, but Hermione could identify the two bodies curled around her own one without looking. The one in front of her was taller then her and she was snuggled against the thick wool of the jumper than covered his chest, small fingers bunched in the material, head pillowed on his shoulder.

One of his arms was loose around her shoulder, serving almost as a pillow, the other arm crossed over his body to rest a hand possessively and protectively on her left hip, almost touching the other arm wrapped around her from behind.

The smaller of her two human blankets was cuddled up against her back, his arm around her waist, hand spread on her belly, and his face buried - which must have been very uncomfortable, she thought - in the dense bush of her hair.

A small smile lifted Hermione's lips at the light touches they were both placing on her, as an assurance that she wasn't alone, which had been enough to keep her nightmares at bay.

Even if anyone commented on the oddness of their particular arrangement, she knew she wouldn't change it for all the galleons in Gringotts, the safety she felt when held between them even more comforting as the presence of Dumbledore himself.

Warmth spread across her face, the caress of sunlight apparently easing through the massive windows and casting a soft heat over all of them. Squinting at the darkness behind her lids gave way to a reddish tint, she forced her eyes open drowsily, coming face-to-chest with a patched, maroon jumper.

Contracting her fingers in the thick material, her smile widened a little at the sight of the rather faded yellow 'R' in the middle of the chest.

Even though he had grown, Ron had managed to magically stretch his favourite old jumper, although he would never admit to actually liking it. He always complained, but she knew he would never throw it away, not until it dropped off him in pieces.

Burying her face in the rough material, she inhaled the familiar Weasley smell that still lingered on him, the smell that was so very Ron flooding her senses.

"Do I get a sniffing as well?" a drowsy voice inquired from behind her.

Tilting her head, Hermione felt her smile widen further as Harry's sleepy face swam into her line of sight, strangely naked without his glasses. His hair was more unruly than usual, parted over his forehead to reveal the scar that made him famous.

"Only if you ask nicely," she replied softly, reaching down to find his hand at her waist and squeeze it. His fingers tightened briefly around hers. "Your face looks a lot better this morning."

"So miracles can happen, eh?" Both Hermione and Harry turned to look at Ron, who was mid-yawn. Hermione's brow creased when she felt Harry's hand slip from hers and the bed shifted as he sat up.

"Harry?"

Green eyes looked down at her. "I need to get some fresh air," he replied quietly, groping for his glasses.

"Harry, wait!" Hermione caught him by the hand, a sense of foreboding flooding her as she saw his eyes dart to Ron's face, his expression tightening, then look back to her. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing," he said, although his voice lacked enthusiasm. "I just want to get some air and since Ron's awake now, I thought you two might want to have some time together."

Ron had sat up on Hermione's other side, staring at his friend, then nodded. "S'all right, mate," he said, reaching over and liberating Harry's hand from Hermione's. "I see where you're coming from."

A grateful look crossed Harry's features and he was off the bed and halfway towards the door before Hermione could even protest, confusion on her face.

"Ron!"

"Hermione, just think what happened," he said softly. "He's had a rough time the last couple of days. On top of that, him and me... we're still not back to being right and if he needs to be on his own for a bit, it's fair enough. Let him think on his own, just for a little while, eh?"

Staring at her boyfriend, Hermione slowly nodded. It was true. Harry had been in Voldemort's hands which was bad enough, but the fact that prior to that, he and his best friend couldn't stand to be in the same room, let alone the same building...

"He'll... he'll be all right, won't he?" she whispered, looking towards the door.

"He's Harry," Ron said. The tone in his voice made her look at him, the almost sad understanding in his voice catching her by surprise. "He'll be fine, because he always has to be. He doesn't have a choice anymore." Brown eyes met brown. "He just needs a break before him and me can even think about trying to talk. He's got too much to think about now."

"But you won't hate each other?" Hermione knew it was a strangely childish question to ask, but it had to be said and the cold feeling in the pit of her stomach was making her feel sick.

If she had to lose one or the other, no matter how selfish she knew it was, she knew it would drive her near mad. She needed them! Both of them!

A wan smile crossed Ron's face as he wrapped his arms around her and drew her against his chest. "I don't think I could ever hate him, really," he answered with the honesty she knew was purely Ron. "But I've done enough to make him hate me."

"He doesn't hate you."

"But he could have."

Hermione lowered her eyes, unwilling to admit that it was an accurate assessment of the situation. If things had remained the way they were, even for a day or two more, there would have been no chance for the friendship Ron and Harry had formed over so many years.

Warm lips pressed against her temple. "Let's not think about that now, eh?" he suggested softly, his cheek coming to rest against the top of her head. "Let's just worry about whether or not you're going to smack me across the head for not getting you a decent Christmas present."

"You... you got me a present?"

She heard him chuckle. "Why wouldn't I?" he said. "I mean, yeah I thought you were about to run off and leave me for Harry, which would have just been weird, but it doesn't mean I wasn't thinking about you anyway."

Pressing her eyes closed, Hermione wrapped her arms around his chest, burying her head in the hollow of his throat. "Thank you."

"Er... why not keep that until you see what it is?" he offered carefully. "You might want to throw it at me."

"That bad?"

"Well, I was kind of annoyed with you."

Shaking her head, Hermione couldn't help smiling at the rather sheepish tone in his voice. "Let me guess," she said, settling herself comfortably against him. "A box full of Fred and George's latest things?"

"Um... well, sort of."

Shifting slightly, she reached up and pecked him on the cheek. "In that case," she said with a smile. "I'll let you open it."

One hand rose and cupped her chin, his thumb tapping the edge of her jaw. "I thought you might," he murmured, stroking her cheek gently. "And to make up for it, I'm going to plant one on you, if you don't mind."

"I think I could manage that," she said with a small smile, her eyes fluttering closed as his lips came closer to hers.

"What the bloody hell have we missed?"

Ron and Hermione jerked away from each other simultaneously at the female squeal from the door, a blush rising up Hermione's face as she found Lavender and Parvati staring in at them, Parvati grinning behind her hand.

"Lavender! Parvati!"

"No, we're just a random pair of limbo-dancing hamsters!" Lavender countered, stomping into the room. "Now would you be kind enough to inform us of what we've missed and why you were about to righteously snog a certain Mr. Ron Weasley since last time we saw you, you weren't even talking to each other?"

"We... er... made up," Ron offered lamely.

Parvati lowered her hand from her mouth, grinning broadly at them both in a way which made Hermione's blush deepen. "Oh, we can see that!" she said gleefully, a glimmer of mirth in her amber-brown eyes.

"Parvati!"

"Well, he did state the obvious," Lavender said, stalking closer to the bed. Hermione could feel Ron all but squirming under the intent looks of thew two girls. "Who, what when, where and why?"

"And how did you catch that son of a b...er..." Parvati paused with a pointed look at Ron. "He does know about everything now, doesn't he?"

"Of course I know about everything!" Ron said indignantly. "I beat the stuffing out of Malfoy for her!"

"Ooh!"

"I bet his dad'll be miffed!"

Now there, Hermione thought, were the Lavender and Parvati she remembered from the previous six years of school, a smile playing across her lips as they dropped themselves on the foot of the bed.

Ron blinked, then shook his head. "No, I meant his dad..." His words trailed off into a rather feeble squeak of panic as both of the girls suddenly leapt at him, tackling and hugging him, shrieking like banshees and bouncing up and down, causing the whole bed to shake with their enthusiasm.

Unable to hold in the laughter at the petrified look on Ron's face, Hermione swatted both of the girls away. "Let him be!" she exclaimed, as they both scrambled back, beaming at him as if he were the best thing since sliced bread. "You're scaring him."

"We're scaring him? The man who beat the poo out of Lucius Malfoy?" Lavender inquired, her face alight.

"Er... not used to being jumped on," Ron mumbled sheepishly, tugging at the hem of his jumper. "Specially not by girls."

"Aww!" Parvati cooed. "He's blushing! How cute!"

Ron flashed a glower at her and Lavender, his scarlet face clashing horribly with his flaming hair. "Sod off," he grumbled, pulling Hermione back to him.

"But you did good, beating that git to a pulp!" Parvati said brightly. "We just want you to know we now like you again."

"Oh, I'm so pleased about that."

"Ron!" Hermione swatted his arm. "Be nice."

"And tell us something: Did he scream?" Lavender asked, a sadistic gleam in her eyes. "Did you make him bleed? And bruise? Did you break any bones? Come on! We want details! Tell us what you did to him!"

"Er..." Ron looked uncertainly at Hermione, who was trying hard to smother her giggles at Lavender's fierce expression. "Is she always this into blood, Hermione?" he inquired carefully.

"Only when someone hurts a friend," Parvati replied with an equally wicked smile, leaning on Lavender's thigh, her eyes intently on Ron's face. "So tell us what you did then. We want details!"

"I always said I would tear his knob off with my bare hands and feed it to him, given the chance!" Lavender added with a ghoulish grin at the horrified look on Ron's face. "And did you know your boyfriend was so easy to wind up, Hermione?"

"You... you were joking?"

"Not a jot, but come on! Tell us already!"

"Hermione?"

Giggling behind a hand, her head resting on his shoulder, Hermione raised her eyes to him. "You should probably just do what they ask," she said. "Otherwise, I think they may get a bit testy."

Ron looked even more nervous.

Lavender and Parvati didn't help the situation by grinning at him in a way that could only be classified as near homicidal.

***

"All right?"

Pulling her attention from her two roommates and her boyfriend, Hermione beamed at Harry as they entered the Great Hall. With Ron's arm around her and Lavender and Parvati close at hand, she felt she could take on the world and win. "Harry!"

Sitting alone at the Gryffindor table, Harry looked like he had been toying with a plate of food for some time, his fork absently pushing a piece of onion around the edge of his plate. "Feeling better?" he inquired with a slight smile.

Glancing at her mini entourage, Hermione could only nod. She felt Ron's fingers close around one of her hands and squeeze, as they approached the practically empty table, sliding into the seats opposite Harry, Hermione flanked by Lavender and Ron.

"Where'd'you run off to, mate?" Ron asked. "Get your fresh air?"

Harry surveyed him for a moment. "Yeah," he replied, the smile on his lips tentative but still present. "I've learned a lesson about going to the Quidditch pitch on my own, though, so I'll have to drag you down there later..."

"Missing your broom, eh?" Ron grinned. "Three days, mate. Three days and you can't cope!"

A wistful look filtered into green eyes. "Yeah, a bit of a weakness I have there," he sighed, then shook his head. "Oh and just remembered something. Dumble just got word in. Voldemort is sure it was me in that cell."

"He thinks you're dead?" Hermione gasped.

Harry's face split in a grin. "Yeah," he answered, skewering a piece of cold sausage on his fork and using it like a hammer on top of his untouched egg. "Kind of nice not to have him chasing me for once, but this is even better for you."

"It... is?" Ron looked bemused. "How?"

"Well, if Voldemort thinks I've kicked the bucket, I'm guessing he'll think it's his big moment, won't he? Problem is that he's got a witness now. I know exactly what he has planned and what he's done and who he has on his side," He heaved an over-dramatic sigh, a mournful tone filling his voice. "And wouldn't it be awful if that information somehow got leaked...?"

Ron's eyes were wide. "Bloody hell, Harry, you could bring him down from the inside with that kind of information!"

"If he didn't hate you before, he will now," Hermione added faintly.

Harry's bruised face was alight with a grin. "I know," he said cheerfully. "I'd love to see the look on his face when he realises what's happened. I can just see him jumping up and down, screaming 'Kill him! Kill him!'"

Twin shrieks of laughter suggested that Lavender and Parvati - who had been repeatedly wincing at Harry and Hemione's use of Voldemort's name - found this image of the Dark Lord, whom they had believed they were meant to be petrified of, particularly funny.

Clutching at one another, their faces were flushed and streaked with tears of mirth by the time their laughter trailed into silence, puzzled looks directed at them from the few faces scattered around the hall.

"What's up with them?" Harry inquired, looking at the pair as if they had lost their marbles.

"Oh, don't worry about it, mate," Ron grinned. "They're those weirdoes who have never spent time with us and because of that, have missed the fun of your weird sense of humour. We're breaking them in now. Looks like we're the only ones who can take the mickey out of He With The Silly Name."

"Explains a lot," Harry chuckled, shaking his head.

"But he's he Dark Lord," Parvati moaned, clutching her sides. "You... how can you take the mickey out of him?"

Harry shrugged. "Think about it this way," he said, "everyone else is petrified of him, he's a raging maniac and if he was here now, I'm sure a few people would be dead. If we didn't laugh about it, what would we be like?"

"Good point," Lavender said, scrubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands.

"And just look at the bloke! He's got glowing red eyes and no nose. How can you take him seriously?"

"Especially when he's tried to kill us six years running and it hasn't worked," Ron added. "He's really lost a lot of credibility as a terrifying bad guy since he started coming after you, Harry."

"Yeah!" Lavender agreed enthusiastically. "You've beaten him, Harry! No one else could! It's amazing!"

Hermione couldn't help beaming at the bashful look that crossed Harry's face, which had just turned a shocking shade of scarlet. Clearly, in spite of everything that had happened, he hadn't changed.

"Well... er... I didn't do it myself," he mumbled, his eyes on the plate in front of him. "I-I just did what I could."

"Aww," Parvati cooed, although there was a mischievous look in her eyes that forced Hermione to slap a hand over her own mouth to smother the giggles. "Isn't he just the cutest thing you ever saw?"

If possible, Harry went even redder.

"Parvati, you leave the poor boy alone. "You're embarrassing him!" Lavender chastised, then smirked at Harry. "After all, when I've got my eye on him, you'll have to wait for seconds."

A muffled squeal escaped Harry.

"Lavender, Parvati," Hermione shook head head. "Don't scare him!"

"But he's so cute when he's all red."

"And it compliments his eyes perfectly!"

Ron leaned a little closer to Harry. "If you really want to run away," he said in an undertone, eyeing the two Gryffindor girls with marked suspicion, "I wouldn't blame you. They hugged me earlier! Me! If you get a big enough head start, you should be able to make the end of the Hall before they stop giggling over how cute you look when you run."

"Hey!" Lavender protested. "We're not that bad!"

Parvati coughed, nudging her friend. "Actually," she muttered. "We are."

Lavender had the grace to look bashful, keeping a remarkably straight face in spite of Hermione's giggles. "Oh. Right. Well..." Clearing her throat, she glanced around the hall warily. "You won't tell anyone, will you?"

"Something tells me it's a bit late for that," Ron said sagely, then smiled hesitantly at both of them. "I never got a chance to thank you for looking after Hermione when I was... er... being an idiot."

"You're were being a boy," Parvati said with a dismissive wave of a hand. "We knew you'd come around eventually, even if we had to tie you down and beat you with a stick to see sense."

"And you know," Hermione added, her head resting on Ron's shoulder, her fingers still interwoven through his, a reassurance that he wasn't about to leave her. "I'm sure they would do it as well."

A worried look crossed Ron's face. "Really?"

"Well, if you didn't come to your senses and agree to look after her," Parvati said amiably, although the pleasant smile on her lips was belied by the fact she had just picked up a rather sharp steak knife. "You don't plan on running out on her again... do you?"

"No!" Ron said a little too quickly, earning a grin from both girls and causing a rapid spread of warmth through Hermione's body, her own smile smothered only when he added, "I promised I would stay with her and the baby."

Two heartbeats.

That was how long the silence lasted.

Her eyes pressed shut and her breath caught.

She heard the deafening throb in her ears and her hand tightened about Ron's as she suddenly recalled what she had done the last day she had seen her two friends. She could feel the colour drain from her face and her stomach tighten agonisingly at the sensation of Lavender and Parvati's confused eyes on her.

"Baby?" Lavender said softly, touching Hermione gently on the arm. With a shudder, Hermione recoiled, her head down. "Hermione, what's he on about?"

"You're pregnant?" Parvati whispered.

Hermione nodded her head tightly, unable to speak for fear of the scream of guilt that would escape from her. She could feel Ron's arm tighten about her and heard the clatter of someone scrambling over the table, knocking plates, jugs and glasses aside with a clatter.

"Mr. Potter!"

Apparently ignoring McGonagall's cry, Harry's arms wrapped around Hermione from behind, sandwiching her securely between Ron and the table, thawing a little of the icy knot which had formed in her stomach at the combination of the thought of the baby and the guilt at what she had done.

"Oh God..." Lavender's voice was shaking. "How long have you known?"

"S-since a week or two b-before you left," Hermione felt like someone else was speaking through her. Had she been in control of her body, she would have bitten off her clumsy tongue and fled.

Parvati and Lavender exchanged startled looks. "You didn't tell us," Parvati said, her voice low.

Hermione didn't want to lift her face, didn't want to see the accusatory looks in their eyes, didn't want to admit to what she had done, but forced her face up, shaking. "I-I did," she said, her voice faint. "You... I made you forget..."

She looked from Lavender's freckled face to Parvati's tawny one, expecting to see the looks of hate that would naturally come with understanding, her heart pounding so loudly that she could barely hear Ron's muttered words of reassurance.

"Why?" Lavender finally asked in a tremulous voice after a silence that seemed to hang in the air for an eternity.

Looking down at her hand which was gripping Ron's, her knuckles white-tipped, Hermione licked her lips nervously. "I-I was going to get rid of it," she replied in a tightly controlled voice. "I-I just wanted to forget. I-I'm sorry."

She physically jumped when a hand touched her forearm, raising her eyes to find blue ones gazing at her from beneath a sandy-blonde fringe, full of concern and understanding. But where was the hate?

Glancing at Parvati, the darker girl's expression was the same. Hermione couldn't help staring at them. After all, she had manipulated their minds, wiping a section of their memories and they were both...

"I understand," Lavender said seriously. "I can understand why you did it."

"But I wiped your memory..." Hermione protested. "You should hate me..."

"Do you want that?" Parvati asked pointedly, although she did look a little tenser then Lavender did. "Do you want us to give up on you after everything, just because you did something because you were scared?"

"Y-you won't?" Even in her own ears, Hermione's voice sounded tiny and fragile.

Parvati shrugged. "If you can undo it or something, then we can let bygones be bygones, eh?"

"You'll need to undo it and all," Ron added, his hand moving in soothing circles on Hermione's back, gentle and warm. "After all, it was Lavender who realised why the pureblood thing didn't work."

"I... er... what?"

"We'll explain later, Lavender," Harry said briskly, when Ron opened his mouth to answer them. Nodding towards the end of the Great Hall, he said, "I think that now, though, that we've got something else to deal with."

Standing in the doorway was the Head Master and with him, a small knot of Aurors looking straight at them.

***

Brown eyes were full of bewilderment, as they stared at Dumbledore. Sunlight was pouring through the windows around the room, filling the whole room with crisp, cool light, a sign of the beginning of the new year.

Hermione's fingers had interwoven in her lap, tuched in the fabric of her oversized Weasley jumper, curling so tightly she could hear her joints clicking together with every rhythmic twist.

"I-I don't think I understand," she finally whispered, her voice quiet.

"It is quite simple, Miss Granger," the Head master's soft voice carried perfectly in the beautiful chamber that served as his office. He was seated behind his desk, his gaze resting upon her. "We have a rather unexpected ally. A witness to Lucius' crimes and she desires to speak against him."

"But the only people who would know are..." Hermione trailed off into silence as the words caught in her throat.

Only those who had been present when Malfoy had been given his orders or those who had been directly informed of what he was doing for the Dark Lord would be valid to stand.

Surely no true Death Eater would willingly stand forward - at the risk of their own life - to denounce Malfoy, just because a muggle-born was the victim.

No, especially because a Muggleborn was the victim.

She knew they viewed her as nothing more than filth. Even when he had violated her, Malfoy had whispered his distaste for her and her 'kind', something which still made her tremble whenever she heard the simple word 'mudblood'.

After the attack, that simple word had come to mean so much more to her and she hated it more than she ever had before. It had become symbolic of the reason she had been hurt, something she wished she could scrub away, something that was a part of her, even though she did not want it to be.

For a Death Eater to even consider helping one of her 'types' of people...

It didn't seem... right.

She looked up as two hands came to rest on her shoulders, one thin and bony, the other large and freckled. Ron and Harry were both standing over her, shoulder to shoulder, almost like some kind of oddly-matched bodyguard, which caused a spread of warmth in her stomach, to know she had them there.

Both of them.

Lavender and Parvati, despite protesting loudly and fiercely, had been told to wait outside. The Aurors were also waiting outside the office, while Dumbledore informed Hermione of the latest developments, only Ron and Harry permitted in to support her, for which she was immensely grateful.

Finding her voice, her head bowing, she shakily added, "They would be Death Eaters... or close to them. Why would any of them h-help?"

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore agreed with a nod, steepling his fingers before his chest. "I can see why you might have difficulty comprehending this, but surely you will not turn down an additional witness."

"N-no. Of course not," Hermione was certain her tongue had turned into a stone, her words seeming to simply lie in her mouth. "It-it... I just didn't think any of-of them would want to help."

There was a long silence.

So long that Hermione wrenched her eyes from her hands, which were twisting in her lap, to look at the Head Master. His gaze was on her, steady and calm, but holding an emotion she could not identify.

"What is it, Sir?" Harry was the one to voice the question and Hermione sent a grateful look in his direction.

"Perhaps, Miss Granger, you should not consider this witness as someone who is willing to help so to speak," the Head Master replied after a painfully long moment of deliberation, in which Hermione was sure she felt her heart leap against every single rib with enough force to leave her breathless. "At least not for your benefit."

Suspicion ebbed into Hermione's mind, one of her cold hands rising to grip Ron's which was still resting on her shoulder. She felt his grip tighten, knowing she would probably have bruised indentations in her flesh, but did not mind in the least, caring only that she could feel his presence.

"What do you mean?" she demanded, her voice shrill and shaking. Harry's hand tightened as well and her other hand snapped up to clutch his fingers. "Who... who is it? Why are they doing this?"

Lowering his hands, Dumbledore spread them upon the smooth surface of his desk, depressing the tips of his fingers until they went white as the frost crusting the panes of the windows.

"She is doing this as a matter of personal vengeance, Miss Granger," he finally said, blue eyes expressing nothing but his concern for Hermione, something which both warmed and infuriated her.

Was now the time for careful words and avoiding the subject? No!

"Who is?" she asked more sharply than she intended. "I want to know."

The bright blue eyes closed for a couple of heartbeats, then reopened, gazing straight at her. "Narcissa Malfoy," Dumbledore replied.