The Otter and The Lynx
Hermione’s world was ending.
That was fine. She’d just keep going. She’d move forward and make sure she was alive for the beginning of the new world. Or she’d die making sure it was the one she believed in.
Sometimes at night while Ron and Harry slept she’d scribble ideas and plots and half-formed plans on a tiny pad of paper she kept on her person at all times. She couldn’t sleep until she did.
Sometimes she’d wake up to it blank and free of her neat hand writing and others times she’d find it warm with a new message and when she tapped it with her wand a spiky scrawl would bleed across the pages. Those were the best mornings.
What a brilliant idea Miss Granger.
Thank you for your input Miss Granger.
I hope you and the others are staying safe. My regards, Miss Granger.
What do you think of this? I need a fresh pair of eyes and yours are the best I know, Miss Granger.
They were always signed KS.
She didn’t tell Harry and Ron that she kept in contact with Kingsley, but Harry found out one night when he couldn’t sleep and restless feet brought him to her hiding space. He saw the way she held the pad close and maybe there was something in her eyes that let him know how important this small amount of contact was to her.
“Can you contact other people with it?” He had asked.
“No, just him. It’s triggered by our wands.”
He nodded and didn’t mention it again.
Hermione didn’t realize how much helping Kingsley meant to keeping her sanity afloat until suddenly there was no contact at all. And then Ron was gone, and Harry was a mess and she no longer had a way to help outside of their little sphere. She couldn’t stand the feeling of uselessness that had settled within the joints of her bones.
One night she sent a patronus out of desperation, whispering quick words to it while Harry thrashed against and invisible foe, deep in the realm of nightmare.
I don’t know what to do or who to trust. We don’t have a contingency plan for if we fail and succeeding looks less likely with each passing day. I’m worried about Harry.
She watched the silver otter swim off into the dark and wished she could call it back.
She never expected an answering patronus but when the lynx sauntered in, something lifted from her shoulders and she could breath just a bit better than before.
We believe in you. Keep strong. I have gotten some of your messages but I am not in a place to respond by quill. You’re input is invaluable and your writing pad has been duplicated for use among other Order members. They’d be lost without it. Hoping for your continued safety, Kingsley.
Hermione finally slept for the first time in days.
–
The night the Snatchers caught them, Hermione managed one last message to Kingsley.
Help.
She never expected it to work. Help had no details, no location. It was desperate and hopeless but it saved her. Not from the Manor, that was Harry and Aberforth and Dobby. But it saved her from giving up.
Crumpled and exhausted, skin crawling with electricity from curse after curse, Hermione wanted to die. She was alone, a brief moment of reprieve and she couldn’t even stand to take advantage. So she allowed herself weakness and cried. The tears hurt, hot against her raw cheeks but now that the dam had snapped she couldn’t stop.
That was when the lynx slunk in, glowing blue-white in the dark room. Slipping to the ground on silent feet, it pressed its nose to hers and spoke in Kingsley’s deep rumble.
Keep strong, Hermione. Help is coming, so keep strong.
Hermione took a deep breath and kept strong.
–
In the end, Hermione should have known she’d fall for him. He kept her strong in dark times and gave her purpose when she’d thought she’d lost it. She found him after the Battle, after she had left Harry taken care of and Ron in the embrace of his broken family. She found him alone, sitting on the floor with his head in his hands and his shoulders shaking silently.
She sat next to him and leaned in for support.
“Keep strong.” She said, voice steady and strong in the quiet. “We’ve won, so keep strong.”
And he did.