Ascent

Chapter 2

He sneered when she walked in with the cloak around her shoulders.

"I told you to burn that, Miss Granger," Snape said, closing the door behind her.

She touched the clasp gently before laughing. "Very good to see you, too, Severus, and I do believe I've asked you to call me Hermione. Professors don't have dinner with their students, and there is no reason for you to treat me like one."

"Hiding behind his cloak will not help you... Hermione."

She Levitated her trunk into the middle of the room. It would take only a wave of her wand to pack everything, but she did not need that much time on her hands. Not now. Now she needed something else to engage her attention rather than the coldness clenching around her chest, around slowly burning fire. Her Dark Mark thrummed for a moment before settling into stillness.

She began with her books first.

"I like the cloak," she said, following him into the sitting room. "It's just something I throw on when I go out. There is no deep psychological reasoning behind it."

"If it's no different from any other cloak, then why do you persist in keeping it when you have a cloak of your own rather than his?" he replied. He sat in an armchair. She sat on the couch opposite him. They were never closer than a table's width. The Dark Mark they shared always created the subtle distance between them, but they, unlike some of her other friends, at least shared that darker knowledge that no one else could possibly understand. "The difference is only in the smell, and that is why you keep it. That is why you concern me."

She looked down at her hands. "I'm flattered, Severus, but I don't need your concern."

It was a simple task to shrink her library, one by one, to fit into a box, but it was aptly time-consuming, and the light was clear and mild through the clouds when she was finished, taking proper care of the rarer books and smiling at the less serious ones, the books that made her giggle in the dark of the night when nightmares plagued her even when she was awake. Candlelight and a children's story always made things right enough to go back to sleep.

The gargoyles flew about her head. They did not sink their claws and teeth into her like they used to. They were just present, and that was effective enough to make her tremble as she stood to fold her robes.

They were the same robes from her Head Girl year. She saw no reason to throw aside perfectly serviceable robes, so she had, with Shannon's permission, taken the robes to Madam Malkin and had them dyed to the midnight blue of the Medicus Order. They were also taken in to fit her thinner frame. Madam Malkin stared at her Dark Mark and the sharp angles of her collarbone, hips, and shoulders. But the forbidding look in Medicus Langley's eyes prevented Madam Malkin from saying anything untoward. They left the small shop and Diagon Alley as soon as they could. No one would dare say anything to Hermione with a Medicus at her arm, but the glares hurt her so that she shook under Shannon's hand. Shannon had come up to her room that night with hot chocolate and anecdotes brought a rare smile to Hermione's lips.

She never fully regained her bookworm figure. Her appetite was often absent, and when she was without a client, she took walks in the mornings and sometimes at night. She liked to walk freely and know for certain that she was safe.

The gargoyles shrieked.

A house elf that Hermione barely noticed anymore served them dinner there in the sitting room, like he always did when Hermione came over to the house. Hermione reached for her plate.

"Don't you dare pretend with me, Hermione," Snape hissed. "You joined the Medicus Order to avoid him, and yet you keep your ties to him connected as he wants them to be. The Dark Mark cannot be escaped, but you have control over your mind, your body. I want that cloak burned if you truly want to be free of him."

"You know, Severus, that we will never be free."

She sat on her trunk, the light in her rooms dimmed to the glow of her candles. She missed Crookshanks, who had died three years ago. She missed being able to turn her head ans find him staring at her, comforting and dependable. She had thought about finding a new familiar, but she never found the time, which made her think that she did not really want a new one. And she doubted that the Dark Lord would be willing to accommodate his old pet's new familiar.

So she sat there and shivered.

***

There was a knock on the door of Remus's flat. Hermione came in without waiting for Remus to let her in.

"You could have Flooed, Hermione," he said, without looking up from his desk. A few of his new werewolves looked up from the couch and the hearth rug.

"I needed the walk," she replied, setting a rack of vials on his desk - Wolfsbane that she had promised him and completed only a few hours before.

He gave her a small smile and stood to greet her. "I'll bet you did."

Her stomach sank. "They already know," she said, resigned to repeated history.

"All Medicus contracts are available to the public, and permanent ones always capture the interest of the Ministry. Particularly when the one requesting the Medicus is the Dark Lord and particularly when the Medicus chosen is... you. Reporters were bound to catch wind of it, especially since you've been so quiet after your last assignment."

He accepted her as she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. He did not expect her to cry, and she didn't. She never did anymore. But he appreciated the effort and hard work it had taken her to be comfortable with him holding her, and he stroked her head gently as she breathed in and out, in and out, her own way of crying.

"I suppose they glossed over the part that I couldn't know it was Lord Voldemort when I accepted the request," she muttered.

"Of course," Remus replied. "It would be no fun if you weren't to blame somehow."

She barked out a quick laugh - Remus knew how rare it was, and he let himself thread his fingers through Hermione's hair before pushing away. She sighed and gave a tired wave of hello to the werewolves in front of the fire who were staring at her. They reciprocated a little warily, but since Remus treated her like a friend rather than an enemy, they would accept that, despite what they had been told, she was a friend. The newspapers were never right anyway.

"So it's all over the Prophet," Hermione said, taking Remus's chair. "I should have known better than to expect I would have one more day of anonymity."

"At least no one can refuse your business now," Remus pointed out. "As a Medicus, they are too afraid of you to arouse the wrath of the Order by insulting or denying any of its members." Remus knelt before her. "Enough light talk, Hermione. How do you feel?"

"Honestly, Remus?" she said, leaning against the desk. He nodded. "I feel like someone has plunged their hand into my chest and pulled out my still-beating heart before replacing it with a block of ice. I don't feel anything except a tingle along my skin. I feel like my Dark Mark ought to be burning, but it doesn't, and I'm just so cold. I'm scared, Remus. I'm scared that I'll take one look at him and... shatter. Those other people, the ones I don't know, I don't care about them - they have no idea what being a Medicus is. I care about my position. I care about my friends. And I care what happens to me. I can't think about him without seeing myself at his feet while he pets me. I would truly like to know why the Oracle had to choose me. Were all the more appropriate Medicus on assignment with his Death Eaters?"

"Hermione," he murmured, holding out his hand for her to take. She clung to his fingers. "I will speak to the Order, specifically to Albus. I know how the Medicus Order works better than any of them, and they will want to know what this means for them - but some of them will want to know what it means for you. They need to know that you will not be working against them. But you... you should not worry about them, and you should not... "

Remus sighed in frustration that he could not tell her what he wanted to say. He leaned forward, and Hermione lifted her eyes to his. "I know this will mean little to you now, but I want you to listen to me and think about it later. You decide whether you will let him have power over you, Hermione. The Dark Mark means nothing when you are his Medicus. You have power over him now. He asked for your help. This is something that you need to remember. It is up to you to establish your place with him. It will be difficult, and there will be many who will work against you, but this is a singular opportunity. You will understand when it is important for you to understand."

"I cannot be a spy or work for the Order on the inside," Hermione said. "That is not our way."

"That is not what I mean," Remus said. "Hermione, I do not hate you for what you will do. Albus will not hate you, and Severus will not hate you. If you explain more fully to Harry and Ginny, they will not hate you. At least they shouldn't. Do not feel shame for this. I know your Order, and I know this is what you have been called to do. Somehow, Hermione - and this may not be what you want to hear - you are connected to the Dark Lord. You have spent the last eight years detaching yourself from him, but you know that..."

"...I'll never be free."

"It is not a matter of being a prisoner, love. The Oracle must know what it did when it chose you. Think on that. When I heard of his new Medicus, I am afraid that I was not surprised." He touched her face gently. "You've spoken with me about him, and you've seen parts of him that I think none of his Death Eaters, even Albus, will ever know or even imagine. What you went through is something only you can understand. You... and the Dark Lord. But do not fear that you will be serving the Dark Lord. You will be serving Voldemort, and they are two very different personas."

"I'm not to serve the Dark Lord," she whispered with dawning comprehension. Remus smiled and sat back.

"That will be your salvation, Hermione, when you embrace fully what you have been called to do. I do not like that you are brought back to... to him. I do not like that you will be with him so completely. I want..."

"I know, Remus," she said, clenching his hand tight. "I want to be with the Order of the Phoenix. I want... but even if I were a Medicus for Albus, I could not help. When I became a Medicus, I chose to put that behind me and... neither side... Remus... I chose neither side. Because neither wanted me. Now I wonder if that was the right choice."

"It doesn't matter," Remus said, "and that is the point. It is what you are, what you were meant to be now that you are. And I think that if the Dark Lord is to have a Medicus, you, Hermione, will be the best Medicus for him. You will be devoted enough to our side through your friendships to avoid helping him in the war - your unique position within the Medicus Order allows you to be far more subjective with such a delicate subject. You will know what needs to be done."

Hermione granted him a weak smile.

"Think about it, Hermione," Remus whispered. "You can have the power now, Hermione. He cannot control you anymore if you do not want to be controlled."

"You give him power when you permit him to," Snape said. "By allowing him to envelop your life still when you pretend that you are strong does not help you. And if you do not want to be strong, then there is no need for you to continue these visits with me. I will not waste my time on a coward, especially not a Gryffindor coward."

***

She waited in Diagon Alley. She knew that Voldemort wanted to make a scene by taking her in a public forum, but she, as a Medicus and not as Hermione, felt obligated to follow his wishes. And everyone knew that she was his Medicus now anyway. No need to hide. No need to hide.

Hermione looked at him, stricken.

"I was asked to help you. You asked me to help you. You did not listen to me when I told you not to join the Medicus Order, and I will accept that. You have improved with their help," Snape said. "But listen to me now. Destroy every last piece of him that you cling to, that which you can destroy anyway. Or else he will always have a hold on you, and you will be nothing but his pet for the rest of your life."

She did not avoid the stares of those who skirted around her. She instead turned inward, murmuring to herself chants that kept her heart rate slow and relaxed.

"Hermione."

She turned to see Harry and Ginny. She saw Ron in the background, determinedly standing in the middle of a group of Diagon Alley regulars, and he was not looking at her. The old pang in her heart pierced more deeply, but Harry and Ginny needed her attention now.

"I am not joining him," she said at once. "I did not choose him. I chose to accept an anonymous request for a permanent contract. I didn't know. Please, you believed me then, believe me now, I will never betray you, or the Order... please, Harry, Ginny, please..."

"Hermione," Harry interrupted. "You have been a part of the Medicus Order for this long, and you have been good and brave for all eight years. You've given me no reason to believe that you would ever betray us, not if you did not when you were with him last. It's been a while, but I talked to Remus again last night - just like old times. He said you were going to come to see us about it..."

"There were things I had to set in order," Hermione said. "I tried to see you - I needed to talk to you - but no one was there."

Ginny looked back at Ron.

"Oh," Hermione said.

Ginny's eyes were sparkling with tears. "So you're going back to him."

"Not like... not like I was," Hermione said hesitatingly.

"Don't... don't let him inside your mind," Ginny stammered. "If he tries, come see me. He will let you do that, won't he? See us?"

"I will come and see you, whether he allows it or not," Hermione said. "I must attend to my own well-being as much as his."

"This is strange," Harry muttered, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You going to him. And... we're all okay with that. After Remus explained it... we accept it. Just... don't feel like you cannot talk to us. Even if I'm an Auror, and we're all Order members. You can still talk to us if you need it."

Hermione looked at him for a moment like she was trying to read his mind. "Harry, I cannot tell you about him. I cannot give secrets away. I cannot tell you his weaknesses or where his fortress is. Understand that, Harry. I cannot. I am Medicus, impartial to political divisions, and I cannot show undue favor to one side or the other. I stretch the limit already."

Harry withdrew his hand and looked down.

"We... know," Ginny said with difficulty.

"Oh, Ginny," Hermione said, drawing her close. "I will come back for a holiday soon, I'm sure. I will. You and I, we need to stay together. Especially during these times. I hate pain, and I will not allow it to continue."

"Hermione," Harry said, still looking down, "I think things will be strained between us. It is our goal to kill Voldemort, and you..."

The gargoyles shrieked.

"Yes, Harry, I." The coldness spread its icicle fingers, and she pulled away from Ginny. The intangible walls enveloped her, alienated her, and she felt the pang of loss again.

She stared at the fire that night, staring at the ever shifting flame and the energy intense within its contained destruction. Taking a deep, shaking breath, she unfastened her cloak. She held it in her hands, bundled in a rope, brought it to her face and breathed in the scent that had calmed and stirred her blood. Flashes of memory, the feel of his fingers on her face, dripping warm water on her cheeks, backhanding her after healing her, licking his boot, crimson eyes taking her in.

On impulse, with the hum of his Dark Mark vibrating through her body, she threw the cloak into the fire. Her heart constricted, but she was well and slept without nightmares for a night.

The next time she visited Severus, her cloak smelled only of her.

"In our own ways, Harry, I suppose it our place to work against one another," she said. "But..." She reached out, touched his chin, and lifted his head. "I will always be your friend. Know that what I must do may not be what I want to do."

"This is going to be difficult, isn't it?" Harry murmured.

Hermione smiled without mirth. "Perhaps the most difficult thing we have ever faced. And knowing us, that is saying something."

"Medicus."

A voice she recognized but could not place. Tall, broad, hooded and cloaked in black, but draped in the white of diplomacy, he bowed before her.

"It is time," he said. "The Dark Lord waits for you."

"He is using you," Harry whispered, looking about them. They were encircled by the crowd of Diagon Alley, all eyes focused on the Death Eater in their midst and the Medicus to whom he extended his hand. "He wants them to see that you are still his."

"He is smart, Harry," Hermione said. "He knows how to play a crowd. I don't care anymore. Let them stare at the Dark Lord's pet. I'm not his pet anymore." She spat the last statement with a vehemence that startled the Death Eater, and he leaned away for a moment, uncertain.

Unsheathing her wand, she glanced at Ron and mouthed, "I'm sorry." Then she took the Death Eater's hand, and, without warning, he Disapparated them both.

They appeared in the forest, where the air about them chilled her more than the winter accounted for, and she could see the lawn and the fortress at the top of the hill. Memories assaulted her, gargoyles tearing into her flesh. She felt like the child Hermione and the Medicus Hermione at the same time, and she hesitated, bringing her hand to her head as a wave of vertigo made the earth move.

"Hermione," the Death Eater said.

Her head jerked up.

"We must continue," he said. "The Dark Lord is impatient to meet his Medicus."

"Does he know?" Hermione asked quietly.

The Death Eater was silent for a minute. "No. None of us can have a subscription to the Daily Prophet for obvious reasons, not even Carmen anymore. But he suspected your situation would be well-publicized."

"But he doesn't know that I am his Medicus," Hermione said.

"No," the Death Eater replied. "Now let's go."

He put a hand on the small of her back to guide her up the hill. She wrenched away. The Death Eater did not press the matter, and they entered the fortress, Hermione a few paces behind him. Schematics of the fortress that she knew flashed through her mind for a second, the ghost of a metal collar around her neck. Her heart beat in her throat, and she was light-headed from the gravity of her situation and the weight of memory.

They stopped in front of the audience chamber, and the Death Eater removed his hood to reveal MacNair, handsome, cruel, and bewildered.

"All the Death Eaters are here to... welcome you," he said. Then he pushed open the doors, striding forward to the throne at the end of the chamber. Hermione could see the Dark Lord's reclining figure, and she hid her face under the shadow of her own cloak.

"My lord," MacNair said, sliding the white drape from his shoulders and laying it at the Dark Lord's feet. "Your Medicus has arrived."

The Dark Lord stood, his body and movement as graceful and elegant as she remembered. She felt the thrumming of her Dark Mark.

Anxiety twisting her stomach, she stepped forward into the audience chamber, pausing as the doors closed behind her. Then she slowly made her way down the length of the room. She felt eyes on her, but no recognition, for they could not see her.

"Welcome, my Medicus," the Dark Lord said, bending at his waist enough to show respect while maintaining his dignified status.

Finally, she stood just behind MacNair. She raised her head and took off her cloak, giving it to MacNair's outstretched hand.

The Dark Lord froze.

"Thank you, Lord Voldemort," Hermione answered, staring straight into his crimson eyes.