Tying Knots

Chapter Five - Sometimes the Things You Most Wish For Are Knot to Be Touched

Hermione moved as slowly and easily as she could from the hallway up to the front sitting room. It would be too easy to break into a sprint ... to run up the stairs, down the hallway, out through the heavily beveled front door and into the Muggle world. Even now it tickled at her brain. It would be an escape. To leave the magical world would leave all this behind. No marriage. No trouble.

'No friends either,' she reminded herself, as she had done every time the thought occurred to her. The faces of all her loved ones swam in front of her vision as her knees buckled and she collapsed onto the landing of the first floor stairs. She could not leave this behind. She could not leave them all behind.

And Ron would treat her well. Her would raise her up and support her dreams and love her ....

"Love," she spoke aloud. "Love."

'I don't love Ron,' her head whimpered. But neither did she love any of the other marriage prospects but she had to choose one of them. She didn't love anyone ... not in a marriage sort of way. The situation was certainly not ideal. However, Ron was, by far, the best choice when considering her happiness and the future. He would give her the best chance of being content, allow the freedom to pursue the future she wanted. But love?

She sank her head into her hands, her elbows perched atop her knees, and when the soft rustle of fabrics came closer down the hall, she did not even jump as Dumbledore's gnarled hands rested on the backs of hers.

"My dear Miss Granger," he intoned softly, "no one ever said this choice would be easy. And it certainly must be exceedingly uncomfortable for someone your age. I cannot express how sorry I am that you have to endure this horrid hardship. I would not wish it on anyone, especially someone your age. But you must understand that I cannot deceive you as to the amount of danger with which you have now surrounded yourself. Mr. Weasley is in grave peril. And so are you."

She looked up at his weathered face slowly, and only managed to say, "I know. I wish I could say I didn't know what I was doing when I signed that letter. But I just didn't know what else to do. What else was I to do?"

Dumbledore was silent, again devoid of the sagely comfort she used to think flowed in his veins. He had never before failed to guide her on all terms, never flagging in his courage, even throughout these dark battles with Voldemort. But now he was silent.

"What do we do now?" she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper.

Dumbledore's eyes locked with hers and his face was set with grim determination. "We make sure that the two of you are as safe as it is in our power to help you be. That is all we really can do. And pray for the best."

*****

Mr. Harry J. Potter

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging, Surrey

Mr. Potter:

This letter is to inform you of a new piece of legislation enacted within the Magical Community. Enclosed forthwith is an explanation of Ministry of Magic Decree Number 1,124, subsections A - E, commonly known as the "Rejuvenatory Genetics Marriage Law." Please direct any comments, questions, or concerns to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Domestic Affairs Division.

Best wishes for your future and your impending nuptials,

Madam. Belinda Crescenzi

Dept. of Magical Law Enforcement

Domestic Affairs Division

*****

Hermione was perched in a large arm chair, quietly reading what Harry recognized as this coming year's NEWT level Potions textbook when he strode into the sitting room where. He pulled a chair up next to her without her noticing and drew a deep breath as he dropped the letter he was clutching into her lap, atop the page her eyes were scanning.

"Well, it's official," he said, "you're not alone."

Hermione quickly picked up the letter and read. "Oh dear ..." she began. She looked quickly up to Harry's face.

"When did you get this?" she asked quietly.

"On my birthday. Officially of age, just like when you were sent yours." Harry's face was surprisingly relaxed and there was no tension in his voice.

"Have ..." Hermione began nervously, but her throat quit. She tried again. "Have you received any... offers?"

Harry forced a weak smile. "Not a one. I told you I was too mad for people to want to marry me."

Hermione laughed lightly, but it died on her lips.

"So," Harry continued awkwardly, "how is the now-engaged Head Girl?"

Hermione set down the book in her lap, abandoning all hope of being able to concentrate on Potions now. She sighed heavily. "Scared and confused. I mean, I don't have any desire to get married at all, but I suppose if I have to..."

Harry nodded. "Then Ron's the best choice. I just hope--"

"I know," Hermione interrupted quickly, not sure she could stand to hear the lingering threat of violence worded. "Me too."

Harry sighed deeply but then reached out for her hand. He gently pulled her up to her feet from her sitting position and wrapped his lightly muscled arms around her shoulders. She plunged her face into the hollow of his neck and shook with repressed sobs. He spoke softly to her, his face buried in her hair.

"It'll come out all right," he murmured. "Somehow. I'm here."

She sobbed at his last sentence, and Ron, who had stood silently at the door, turned and walked away without ever being noticed.

*****

Several days went by without a word spoken between Ron and Hermione. Since their engagement was formalized and recognized as something to be dealt with inside the Order, they could barely look each other in the face; when they did meet eyes, Hermione saw a disappointed confusion in Ron's and was forced to look away. The simple fact of the matter was that she was afraid her eyes would give away the regret she felt over the whole situation.

Nearly a week later, Hermione and Ginny had their heads together, giggling over the remnants of their dinner. The two girls had straggled at dinner, wishing to talk and laugh like normal, long after the other members of the Order had eaten and left. They were still snickering over a joke when Ron made his way into the kitchen. He perched next to Hermione on the long wooden bench at the table and slid a letter across to her.

"Have to go to the Ministry to sign some papers," he said gruffly. "Declaring our engagement, read some details of when the wedding has to be performed, that sort of thing."

Hermione nodded, the smile fading from her face. She took a deep breath and replied. "Just let me finish my dinner ..."

Ron began to rise from the table before she completed her sentence. "Well, the letter says only me. You don't have to go ... if you don't want to."

She looked up into his eyes and saw him desperately trying to mask the hope that she would accompany him. "I'll go," she returned quietly.

"And so will I."

Hermione turned to see Professor Snape standing in the doorway to the kitchen, followed by a very frazzled looking Tonks. "Oh, no you won't," she retorted loudly.

"They have to be protected, you fool," he groused as he stalked into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. "Suppose they are ambushed by Death Eaters--"

"And it won't look suspicious to have someone they think is a spy for them fighting against a legion of Death Eaters?"

Snape growled something incoherent.

"Severus is right about one thing," Tonks continued, now addressing Hermione and Ron. "You're both going, and you'll be accompanied by a member of the Order."

Hermione nodded obediently, but Ron flushed and bit back. "I can take care of myself and Hermione!"

Tonks sighed. "Not against a contingency of Death Eaters, you can't. This may be nothing, there may not be any trouble. But the fact that the letter requested only you to come is highly suspicious. You're both going and I'm coming with you."

"Why you?" Hermione asked.

"Because it won't look out of the ordinary for me to go strolling into the Ministry of Magic." She shot daggers at Snape with her eyes as she spoke. "As long as I went to my office and looked busy for a bit, no one would be the wiser and you two would be protected. But Severus ..."

"All right, all right," Severus snapped. He opened his mouth to say something else but then blended it into his trademark sneer. After a moment or two where the party in the room stared at him silently, he grumbled, "Be careful."

Tonks smiled winningly. "I shall."

*****

Tonks, Hermione and Ron were walking towards the visitor entrance of the Ministry of Magic. "Tell me again why we didn't just Apparate?" Ron asked. "I mean, we've all got our license."

"Well," Tonks started, "it is off hours." She glanced at her watch. "The fact that someone sent you a Ministry letter at 8pm on a Friday means that there may be an ambush waiting for us in the Office you were supposed to Apparate to. If we enter through the Atrium and the elevator, we'll be able to hear an attack before it hits us."

Ron nodded, satisfied with this explanation, but Hermione wasn't convinced. "Come on Tonks, what's the real reason? You can only Apparate into the Atrium. We couldn't have Apparated straight to an office."

Tonks looked around suspiciously. "All right, all right," she said after a few seconds of silence. "We're trying to draw an attack."

"WHAT?" Ron hollered.

"Shhhhh!" Hermione whispered furiously. "Why?" she directed to Tonks.

"Because if we draw out an attack here, we are not trapped. The Ministry has a limited number of places to run. Here we can Apparate freely, should we be attacked, with no delay. The Ministry is very heavily ensconced in magic, which could easily be manipulated by the Death Eaters, should we try to escape them within the building."

Tonks was easily glancing over her shoulder as they walked down the block. Suddenly, she halted and threw out her hands to stop the others from moving. She leaned forward to peer around the dumpster that was on her left side. Just before she had moved free of the shadow of the bin, Ron - who was at the back of the group - grunted heavily. Hermione turned swiftly to see Ron collapsing to the ground in a heap. Before she was able to process the image, she felt the sharp point of a knife at her throat. She looked down minutely and saw the curved blade of a dagger, etched with tiny scrolls, emanating from an ebony handle in the form of a snake striking at prey.

"Wonderful little Muggle instruments aren't they, Miss Granger?" a slick voice purred close to her ear.

She wrenched around to try and see her captor, but was met only with a smooth, featureless white mask. But she recognized the voice. And the lock of white-blond hair that was escaping the hood and rolling over her shoulder.

"I wouldn't know," Hermione spat viciously, "I've never had a Muggle pull one on me. So much for the rumored gentility of purebloods."

Hermione winced as the knife bit into her throat; a single drop of blood rolled down her neck. She felt the lithe arms, now encircling her waist and throat, tense. "Don't tempt me, Miss Granger. The only thing keeping you alive is the marketability of your reproductive capabilities. Don't entice me to jeopardize that."

Hermione growled angrily and struggled as she dimly heard the crack of Death Eaters Apparating around her. She was aware of a muffled squawk that was Tonks and then a heavy thud as the woman hit the ground. Lucius Malfoy used the point of the knife to turn her cheek to him. He pressed his mask-covered face closer to Hermione's ear and inhaled deeply. "Ah, the reek of Mudblood. Never fear, you'll have purer influences, soon enough. Soon enough. And I'm sure Draco will be charitable. After all, we must share things among family."

Hermione's throat burned with embarrassment and anger as she imagined just how she would be "shared" among the Malfoys. She struggled again as Lucius's thin, elegant, merciless hand clamped on her breast and squeezed hard, pointed nails digging through her thin tank top. A delicately boned female hand ran down her cheek, just close enough for Hermione to see short fingernails painted a deep red, almost black.

"Well, well, what have we here? Little baby Mudblood," the woman's voice mocked, "we intend to teach your lover a thing or too about getting in the way."

Hermione instinctively whimpered and struggled against the blade still held at her chin. It slashed at her throat, a thin trail of blood snaking down over her collarbone and staining the neckline of her mint green top.

"Meddle no more," Lucius hissed before threw her forward and Disapparated, leaving Hermione to sink to her hands and knees on the hot pavement. She looked up just in time to see Bellatrix Lestrange smirking back at her, yanking Ron to his feet and Disapparating with a loud crack.

"No!" she heard her voice cry out thinly, reaching a hand out towards the retreating pair. Following the crack, she buried her face in the grass near by, retching in horror, and passed out.