Planning and plotting
Sirius and Remus were seated at the kitchen table, speaking quietly when the twins stumbled in the next morning.
“I don’t like it Remus, the way he-” Sirius stopped speaking abruptly when he noticed Fred and George. He and Lupin shared a look and Lupin called out a loud “Good morning!” to the boys.
“Lo’ Sirius, Professor.” George yawned.
“Morning! Is there coffee?” Fred said brightly.
Remus looked up and smiled.
“Good morning boys. And it’s Remus, please.”
“Coffee’s on the stove.” Sirius gestured behind him.
The twins hunted down cups and settled at the table with the older men.
“Mum’s not here yet, then?” Fred asked, looking around the quiet kitchen. He knew before asking she couldn’t be here, otherwise she would be holding court in the kitchen, and there would surely be breakfast. Not to mention, chores.
Sirius chuckled. “If she were, I’m sure there would be a better breakfast available.” He set his mug down and leaned forward. “I’m glad you’re here though, we needed to speak with you about something.”
“Us, specifically?” George asked, sipping his coffee. While Fred was a morning person, always ready to face the day at dawn, George never felt he woke properly until the caffeine hit his brain.
“Well, you two would be the only ones out of the loop, last night-” Remus began.
“Oh! Is it Granger?” Fred interrupted.
Sirius frowned. “Did your mother speak to you before she went home last night?”
“No.” George muttered. Their mother (and father) had not actually spoken to them again after the meeting, having instead gone directly home. George wondered if she thought they had gone back to the Burrow as well, but he suspected she hadn’t thought of them at all. Last night was crazy, she was upset. He told himself. But it felt bitter, and logic that they were of age and didn’t want to be fussed after did nothing to quell the bitterness that grew each time they were slighted.
“We, uh, ran into Granger last night. She told us a bit, and we made sure she went to bed with a smile on her face.” Fred grinned, remembering how she had smiled at him when he found Crookshanks. He wanted her to smile at him like that again, eyes shining, looking at him like he was...special. Important. He was too lost in his thoughts to notice how quiet the room had become.
Sirius had gone still, and he was glaring intensely at Fred. Remus let out a low growl, and he too had a dangerous looking glower on his face.
“What exactly are you saying?” Sirius asked in a low voice.
Fred’s brain caught up with his mouth as he realized what he just said. George slapped him on the back of the head, and Fred spilled hot coffee down his front, crying out.
“Ya Numpty! What the hell!” George yelled.
“Wait-no!” Fred cried, dropping his cup and throwing his hands up.
“We found Crookshanks for her!” George blurted out, joining his twin in panic as he realized he was not being perceived as an innocent third party. Sirius and Remus were glaring at him too. “And fixed up her room! That’s all!”
“It wasn’t like- we didn’t, we wouldn’t” Fred stuttered, shrinking under the twin glares of the men across the table. Fred and George shared wild look. They were used to being able to charm their way out of trouble, but this was different. This felt very much like staring down two angry parents, who’s daughter they may have debauched. Not that they went about debauching daughters and angering parents.
Suddenly Sirius began chuckling, which blossomed into a full belly laugh as tears streamed down his cheeks. Remus joined him, as the twins shared another look between them of confusion.
“You two should see the looks on your faces. Godric, Mooney they are terrified of you! The way you growled!” He howled with laughter. Remus frowned at him.
“It’s a normal reaction.” He muttered, his cheeks slightly pink.
The mood settled, the twins set about making breakfast, rummaging through the provisions they had helped their mother bring the day before. Soon eggs were frying and toast was buttered. As with everything they did together, their was a synchronicity to their movements. Fred would toss the toast in the air and George would deftly catch and butter it. When George finished frying the eggs, Fred was ready with a plate.
When they settled down to eat, they began peppering Sirius Most and Remus with questions about the house and the Order. Most of their questions were skirted around, although they did find out that Bill and Charlie were members, but not Percy, who was apparently very standoffish at the moment. That came as no surprise to either of them, their brother Percy might be the stodgiest, more rule-obsessed person they had ever met. Absolutely no fun and obsessed with work. So of course, they had to take the mickey out of him at every available opportunity.
When it came to the house, Sirius minced no words telling them to be careful. The things lurking in the gloom and grime could very well be dangerous, and he urged them to take caution and stay together. The twins smirked at this.
“Together is our middle name!” They said in union, earning a chuckle from the two men.
“Is there a potion room? Or a place we could find to brew?” George asked carefully. Although they were of age, he was sure his mother would not be pleased to find out they were brewing over the summer…especially if she knew what they were brewing.
“Anywhere you want as long as you are safe about it. Unless it changed, we used to have a potion room on the fourth floor, and another near the dungeon. Remember this, both of you. This house is filled with dark artifacts and creatures that we haven’t been able to clear out yet. My family was…well you can see for yourself. Be careful what you touch, even some of the books.” Sirius warned.
“Watch for Doxies, Pixies, Boggarts, and the like. Creatures are attracted to the magic of the house, and it sat empty and unguarded a long time. All of you remember how to banish a boggart?” Remus had slipped into his professor tone with ease.
“Yes but-”
“Did you say dungeon?”
Hermione woke to a mouthful of cat fur. Sitting up and spitting, she saw Crookshanks had, predictably stolen most of her pillow. She rubbed her eyes and for a moment, thought she was still in her bed in the Gryffindor dormitory. Safe behind the red velvet curtains surrounding her bed, she could almost believe the last 24 hours hadn’t happened. The lingering smell of damp wood and decay burst that happy bubble. She was in Grimmauld place, she was an outcast, she was in ongoing danger from Death Eaters, and she had managed to get on the bad side of her Headmaster. Hermione supposed she had never really been in Albus Dumbledore’s favor to begin with. Harry was his golden child, she was just there by association. There were many times Dumbledore’s gaze had fallen on her in a way that made her stomach twist painfully. She felt in those moments her headmaster truly disliked her, maybe even hated her. Although, having grown up unwanted at home, bullied at school, and later bullied at her magical school, Hermione was no stranger to people disliking her. The unfairness of it was like a weight on her back. A small childish part of her wondered what caused the tension and dislike, and what she could do to fix it. She was already best in her year, studious (mostly) obedient. A larger portion of her, however, did not care to try and win his approval. Perhaps it's because I won't blindly follow him, She thought. "
After the second Taking a deep breath, she pulled back the curtains, ready to face the day and all the problems she was currently facing.
Problem one, washing up in the derelict bathroom attached to her new bedroom. After splashing some water on her face, she tackled the grime in the bathtub. It took several scouring charms, rinsing with hot water and a short (but bloody) fight with several electric blue pixies (who had taken up residence in the rotten shower curtain, and flew out brandishing fangs and claws to defend their home), she set about banishing the infestation of Bundimun she found in the wainscoting. Finally, she deemed the tub fit to bathe in.
Once she was washed and dressed, it was time to move on to Problem Number Two. Namely, finding a way to retrieve Harry and keep him safe. Sitting at the writing desk in the corner, she cleared the scattered papers from the center and pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment. Digging through the drawers she retrieved ink and a bent quill and started brainstorming. Hermione always found she did her best thinking while writing notes, even if at the end her notes were ink smudged and legible only to her.
She worried over several scenarios as she worked out what to do. Hermione didn’t bother to hope she could convince Albus Dumbledore to go against his own decisions. Rather, she concluded that confronting him or the other adults clearly under his command would result in them digging deeper into their stance. Adults (in their opinions) knew best, after all. Sirius and Remus might be the exception, but she couldn’t count on them going against Dumbledore as members of the order.
This situation obviously called for more stealth. Not being officially allowed to leave Grimmauld place was a problem, but not a huge one. Hermione had no problem breaking rules she found unjust, and house arrest simply to keep her from Harry (because why else would her communication be restricted as well) was unjust. Transportation was an issue. She could drive, a little. With no vehicle she’d have to steal one and- she quickly rejected grand theft auto. At least as a Plan A. The knight bus came to the stranded witch or wizard, but it wasn’t exactly quiet or discreet…definitely not Plan A material. A muggle bus would be more discreet, but take quite a bit of time, not to mention working out the schedules and transfers to get from London to Surry.
As she was trying to come up with next plan, her stomach growled loudly. She realized she was chewing on the feathers of her quill, and hadn’t eaten since the day before. Tucking her wand into the sleeve of her jumper she made her way to the basement kitchen. The house was quiet aside from the creaks and groans of age, and mysterious skittering noises that seemed to come from inside the walls. She averted her eyes when she came to the hall of elf heads, silently vowing that would be the first thing she would personally take down. Poor little things.
She heard voices coming from behind the kitchen door and braced herself. Hermione found herself hoping that the Weasleys had told their children her tale, if only so that she didn’t have to repeat it again. So far this morning she was doing an excellent job of not thinking about her parents or death eaters…much. She was determined to not fall apart again, at least not in public. It was too raw, too painful and too confusing. She was furious with her parents, with the dark wizards who attacked her, sick at the thought of what could have happened, sad for the loss of everything she knew but…relieved if she was honest. She never had to go back to that cold house and play perfect daughter again. Now all she had to worry about was school, finding a new home, and defeating the greatest threat to wizard kind the world had ever known. Not to mention keeping her best friend alive, and possibly kidnapping him. Just normal teen stuff. She joked with herself, smiling a little despite herself.
Everyone stopped talking and looked at her as she entered the kitchen. Ron and Ginny were seated at the table, eating what looked like stew, and Molly was bustling around the giant iron stove. She saw Kreature lurking in the far corner by a row of cupboards, twisting his hands and grumbling.
“Uh, good morning.” She said awkwardly.
“Afternoon, dear.” Mrs. Weasley said briskly. “Sit down and have some stew, I’m just getting the bread.” She pulled a freshly baked golden loaf from the oven and set to slicing it, sending hot buttered slices to the table with her wand.
“Er- ‘lo Hermione.” Ron said thickly, swallowing a huge mouthful of stew.
“Hermione! We were so worried!” Ginny cried, jumping up and throwing her arms around her. Hermione returned the hug with decidedly less enthusiasm. She and Ginny were friendly, but hardly ‘friends’.
“Hey, Gin, Ron. So…you know then?”
“Mum and dad told us last night.” Ginny said, returning to her seat but pulling Hermione along with her. Ginny rapid fired questions at her, "Are you Ok? Can you believe we are going to be here all summer? How's your room mine's rotten! Are you really OK? Was there really a werewolf?" To which Hermione either shrugged or gave single word answers to. "Yes. Yep. Fine. Yes. Shrug."
Breakfast, or rather lunch, was only slightly awkward. Ginny, giving up on her line of questioning for now, filled Hermione in on the morning’s activities. She went on in detail about moving their family into headquarters, and cleaning out the dresser that housed the china in the kitchen. To Ron’s mortification, she told a very animated story about the size of the spiders who had taken up residence inside, and Ron’s over-the-top reaction.
“Honestly, I’m not sure how you didn't hear the screams. Sounded like some poor woman was being murdered!” Ginny cackled at her own joke. Ron glowered at her.
Hermione stiffened, and glared at Ginny. "That's in poor taste, Gin." She said in a low voice.
“C’mon Hermione, lets…go upstairs.” Ron muttered, leading the way. Hermione followed. She needed to get Ron alone to discuss how and when they would liberate Harry from that awful house. Once they were in his room, however, Ron flopped onto his bed and started thumbing through a Quidditch magazine.
“We need to talk, Ron.” She said, accio-ing his magazine from his hands and crossing her arms.
“Hey!” He called out crossly. “About what?” Ron frowned and creased his brows. “Did you want to…talk about what happened? Should I get Ginny?” He asked hesitantly.
“No! It’s not about me. Well, I suppose it is, in a way, but in another it’s never actually been about me, per say, more...”
“Uhg, could you get to the point?” Ron snapped.
Hermione sighed sharply. Ron was her friend, but she knew they would not be without Harry. Ron was friends with Harry, she was friends with Harry and so by association, they were “friends”. It seemed to her Ron was only truly friendly with her when he wanted something these days, mainly help with his homework or to copy her notes. At times he was truly unkind, although he was generally on better behavior when Harry was around to act as a buffer and witness. Whenever they were on their own it seemed as though they couldn’t share more than a few words without bickering.
“We need to go get Harry. He’s not safe.” There. She thought. Straight to the point.
“We can’t.” Ron said firmly. “Dumbledore said he can’t know about the base or the order or any of it, for his safety.”
“Bugger Dumbledore. We need-”
“Bugger- Hermione what the hell?” Ron interrupted. “ It’s Dumbledore. He said Harry is perfectly safe at his Aunt’s house and-”
“He's not! There is no way they can keep him safe from here, and even if he's not in danger from Death Eaters, Ron, think about what he's just been through! He can't just go this alone with those people- they starve him! They beat him! Lock him in his room and won't let Hedwig out! Dumbledore's got some…agenda, but Ron, I was attacked. They came into my home. I don’t care what Dumbledore says, Harry isn’t safe alone with muggles!” Hermione cried.
“You don’t know everything. Let the adults handle it.” Ron’s voice was getting louder, and his neck was turning pink. “Harry's alright, he's always fine. A bit skinny, maybe...but we don’t need to get in trouble!”
“You literally stole a car to kidnap him in second year. You think he’s fine, with those people?” She yelled.
“That was different, and Fred and George-” Ron yelled back.
“Fred and George what?” Fred said from the doorway.
“Oh- well you were the ones that drove that car, the flying one when we got Harry a few years ago.” Suddenly Ron was more contrite, facing his brothers. Fred and George stepped into the room and closed the door.
“Looking for a getaway driver?” George asked, shoving his hands in in pockets and leaning on the wall.
“We’d have to find a car, of course, but muggles do just leave them around everywhere.” Fred added.
“Not sure why we’d steal a car when we can apparate, though.”
“Well, Georgie m’boy, if the lady wants us to drive her getaway vehicle, how would we do that without one?”
Hermione thought quickly. She didn’t want word getting around she was planning (essentially) a kidnapping, but she knew Fred and George would never rat her out. In fact…they might be just what she needed to make this work.
“Actually, sort of… you boys fancy a trip to Little Whinging? A little…adventure?” She shot them what she hoped was a sly sort of look and a half-smile. The twins were the definition of partners-in-crime...if they would agree to help her. She thought of the night before, the gentle way they handled her emotional breakdown, finding Crooks...
Fred and George glanced at each other, communicating something without words.
“I could go for a little trip.” Fred said, grinning at her.
“And, would we happen to be checking on a certain bespectacled friend during this adventure?” George asked.
Hermione grinned back. “Let’s make a plan.”
"Not here." Fred said, eyeing a stained canvas on the wall. "Can't trust an empty painting, or much in this house to be honest."
"Follow us." George said, leading the way out of the room.