Chapter 7
Attempting to come up with a cover story as to why she needs to leave the Burrow before an Order meeting after telling Ron she was going to rest was harder to come up with than she thought.
She sent her Patronous to Ginny, asking her to come to the room to help, but when the knock on the door signaled it wasn’t Ginny, Hermione groaned outwardly. She moved to open the door, expecting to find Ron, but instead found someone else.
It was Mrs. Weasley, carrying a small basket and a smile that was slightly strained.
“Hello, dear,” she said politely. “I overheard you wanting Ginny to come up, but I had her doing dishes and dusting a few serving trays off, so I thought I’d come up.” Mrs. Weasley came into the room, set the basket on Hermione’s bed, and gestured for her to close the door.
Not wanting to offend the matriarch of the house, Hermione complied. Malfoy, there seems to be a slight need for everyone in the house to require my time and attention. I’m sorry, I know we need to really talk, the two of us—He cut her off.
Granger, darling, I am aware of Mrs. Weasley needing your time right now. If you can’t make it to the house before your required presence at 6, then I will talk with you tonight. Ginevra will probably cover for you if you need to sneak out tonight. His voice slightly strained, like he was disappointed with not being able to see her tonight. Then he added Can I listen in? My mother is flouncing around preparing for the arrival of my insane aunt.
Mrs. Weasley was waiting for her to speak, or move, or something, but Hermione’s thoughts were short circuiting on account of Draco Malfoy calling her ‘darling’ for the second time. She began speaking, waiting for Hermione to catch up.
“I know you all want to fight and help Harry and the Order as much as you can, and I am proud of all of you for it,” she rested a hand on Hermione’s knee. “But, I can’t say I am all that excited for you to be put on the battle field right away. I’ve already told Ginevra that she will not be attending the meetings nor will she disappear from her studies.”
What does this have to do with me? Hermione’s inner thoughts were starting to resemble Malfoy’s tone when she was irritated.
Mrs. Weasley continued on without a thought for the younger girl’s face, which was wrapped in a tight expression. “That being said, I know I am not your parent, but I feel it is my duty to help steer you in the right direction as someone who has been a bridge between you and the wizarding world. You’re Harry’s best friend, and Ron adores you now. I will do everything in my power to make sure those in my family, blood or not, are protected from the dangers a war can bring.”
At this point Hermione was set to interrupt what appeared to be a speech determined to keep her from joining the Order of the Phoenix. “Mrs. Weasley, I appreciate everything you have done for me the past few years, truly I do. But I am not sure what you’re trying to tell me.”
The older woman wore a thin smile, one worn down by years of stress. “This is not my place, but I want to ensure my family is protected, so I am asking—not telling—you to take your name off the list of people who will be volunteering tonight.”
‘Take your name off the list of people who will be volunteering tonight.’ The words mocked Hermione. After years of putting herself between Harry and the end of a wand, or between those who didn’t believe in him; after years of putting up with the unfairness of being different, being touted as the Brightest Witch, Mrs. Weasley was asking her to step aside. For what?
“May I ask why you’re asking me to stand aside while my friends go to war?” Her tone was calm, cool. It gave nothing of her feelings away.
Mrs. Weasley looked slightly flustered. Hermione never used that tone with her, it was always pleasant and endearing. “Well, for one, Ron and I have been talking, and he told me you’re having some sensitive issues.” She gestured towards the basket she brought. “Here are some potions and supplies for that. I wasn’t sure what you use because you seem to have a handle on your monthlies.”
Monthlies? Is that what you’re using as an excuse to be alone with me and your thoughts? She had forgotten about Malfoy; she was too distracted by the fact that Mrs. Weasley and Ron were discussing her and her private wishes to be left alone.
Please hush. It was the first thing I thought of to make him squeamish and leave me alone. His laugh filled her mind.
“And second, I worry about you and Ron.” The old woman was oblivious to the shock in Hermione’s mind. “Ron told me how much he likes you, and how much he wishes he took you to the Christmas party instead of the other boy you asked. I don’t want something to happen to you and you both never get the chance to grow old together. It really is a wonderful thing, having a connection with your best friend.”
Alright, that’s enough. How dare she? Tell her to back down from the war on account of her son’s feelings? “Mrs. Weasley—”
“Oh, dear, call me Molly. If I am right, you’ll be my daughter sooner than we thought.”
A low growl emitted through Hermione’s mind, and she wasn’t positive if it was Malfoy or her.
“Fine, Molly,” she fought hard to keep her tone pleasant. “I understand your need to protect those you love, specifically your family. But I also have people to protect in this war. Harry, for one. He has been my best friend since we were eleven, he was there for me in fourth year when the media turned against me, and I have been there for him since I went through the trap door to get the Philosopher’s Stone first year.
“Yes, Ron is one of my best friends, too, but I am still going to stand by Harry’s side, till the war is won—not just over, won--and we have established a new world of equality and acceptance. I will be going to the meeting tonight; my name will still be at the top of the list of people who volunteer when needed.” She was seething. “I’ve got too much skin in this game to back out now, especially if the reason you’re asking me to back out is to protect your son’s will to come back from battle.”
Molly looked shocked; her mouth was slightly agape, and the look in her eyes told Hermione, the older woman was not used to seeing this side of Hermione. She found the look was quite enjoyable, even if she was slightly shaking with rage at what Molly was asking her to do.
“Of course, dear,” she started. “I would never ask you step aside on behalf of my son’s interest, but you must understand fighting a war is not the place for the ladies. We must all sacrifice something for the greater good.”
Hermione had had enough. She threw a look at the clock on Ginny’s nightstand: five minutes until the floo was ready to take them to the meeting. “Molly, I appreciate you telling me your concerns, but I am of age in the wizarding world, and even if I wasn’t, my legal magical guardian is dead. I am more than capable of making sacrifices.” She spat the last word, feeling Malfoy’s presence in her mind swell with pride.
Excellent work, darling. There he goes again. She shut down her thoughts and moved to grab her charmed bag. Pulling on a jacket, she made her way to the door, leaving Molly and her blasted basket of wizarding feminine products alone.
-----
Nymphadora Tonks was the first face she saw when she stepped out of the fireplace. Pink hair, wide, excited eyes, and a smile that wrapped Hermione in warmth. The two women embraced each other, moving out of the way for the Weasley twins to come out of the fireplace.
“Wotcher, Mione,” said George.
“Don’t want to be squished,” finished Fred.
She smiled at the two, and let Tonks lead them into the kitchen. “Where are we?” she asked, looking around at the small house.
“Technically, I’m not supposed to say, although, I’ll give a hint, I won’t be leaving tonight.” The metamorphigi laughed and sent a wink over her shoulder.
“Ah, so it’s one of two places then,” George said, cheekily.
“Wouldn’t want the lovebirds to be separated too far,” Fred laughed.
Hermione smiled to herself, knowing her former professor found someone to share a connection with despite his burden of lycanthropy. The look on Tonks' face was one that a woman wore when she was truly, deeply, and reverently worshipped by her partner. The younger girl found herself longing for that connection in her own life. Maybe after the war.
Once they were settled in the kitchen, Hermione sitting between Fred and George to avoid having Ron pester her during the meeting, the remaining members came in. Kingsley Shackelbolt and Alastor Moody were standing in the corner of the kitchen, each holding a cup of steaming tea.
I would like to point out that this is not to be spied on at all, but I assume since all bets are on me, you have no one to tell information to, Hermione stated simply in her mind. Malfoy had been quiet since her talk with Mrs. Weasley.
Granger, a wizard like me has better things to do than spy on your little meeting, he said playfully. Besides, I will inevitably be bombarded by your overthinking tendencies the second the meeting starts.
She stifled a giggle. Oh, a wizard like yourself? This is the same wizard who has been caught spying on my conversations more than twice in the last week, is it not?
What can I say? Your mind is a wonderous cavern of surprises.
Hermione smiled to herself, hoping no one saw. Having people compliment her brains wasn’t something foreign to her, but knowing Malfoy of all people could read her thoughts constantly, and still claim it was wonderous was a compliment she wouldn’t mind hearing again.
Fred and George were talking animatedly over her head. George, noticing her smile, took a look at Fred, and they both surprised her by tickling her sides. The sound of talking and catching up was still loud enough that her screech of shock was drowned out.
“What in Godric’s name are you two doing?” She said when she finally managed to get them off of her before they all fell off the bench.
“Why, little lion,” said George.
“We have heard from ickle Ronikins—” jumped in Fred.
“That you are no longer in need—”
“Of a talented dancing date—”
“For Bill’s wedding—”
“Pity that.” They both finished speaking at the same time.
Hermione’s smile faded slightly, not that the twins noticed. “Pity?”
“Well of course,” Fred began.
“How on earth are we common folk—”
“George, we are anything but common—” Fred cut in.
“Oh right, excuse me, how on earth are we better Weasleys—better Fred?” The other twin nodded.
“Supposed to compete for your affections now?” Fred finished.
Talking to the Weasley twins must be exhausting. He wasn’t wrong. Hermione’s neck was tired from looking at twins like a tennis match each time they spoke.
“Well, boys,” she started, smirking slightly, “there’s always Charlie’s wedding, or Percy’s wedding.”
The mention of Percy Weasley caused the twins to frown, but Fred said, “Oh Poncy Percy would never suffer such an affliction like dancing at his wedding.”
George laughed. “Of course! The poor ponce wouldn’t want his reputation as the serious one tarnished with such things like dancing and singing and general merriment.”
Hermione laughed, keenly aware of Ron’s staring from across the table. Fred and George had a way of keeping one’s mind off the darker things in life. The two of them during this war would help keep some sanity around here.
Kingsley made a motion for quiet in the kitchen. His voice was deep, calm, and serious when he said, “Alright, the meeting of the Order of the Phoenix has begun, please remain professional.” He shot a look in the twins’ direction, causing the two boys beside her to giggle like schoolgirls.
Moody stepped in to take over. “We have a planning session for thirty minutes before we head to go get Potter at midnight. His birthday is tomorrow, and he was given twenty-four hours to get his aunt, uncle, and dolt of a cousin out of the house.” He started pacing the length of the small kitchen. “Now, Kingsley has a batch of Polyjuice Potion, courtesy of one Severus Snape, that the seven volunteers will take. Then upon changing in Potter’s house, will be escorted to brooms and various flying objects to confuse any Death Eaters we may encounter on our way back to checkpoint, the Burrow.”
Kingsley started naming off pairs and those who were flying solo with cover, but Hermione’s thoughts were stuck on the flying part. She raised her hand.
Moody motioned for Kingsley to pause. “What is it, Miss Granger?”
“Sorry to interrupt, but if we are wanting to confuse or not get involved with any Death Eaters, why take magical means to travel?” She asked, using her usual academic voice.
Silence greeted her question along with raised eyebrows and Ron’s slightly concerned expression. Kingsley shifted slightly.
“Well, how else are we to make it to the Burrow?” Tonks asked, slightly intrigued.
Hermione forgot most of these people grew up with nothing muggle around them. Malfoy sniggered in her head. Oh, shut up. This plan is stupid, and you know it, she threw at him.
Yes, but you’re also too scared to fly, so you’re looking for any way out of it.
“We could always use muggle cabbies, or the Underground,” she said simply. If the witches and wizards in the room didn’t think to use these methods of travel, then surely the Death Eaters wouldn’t.
Again, she was met with silence. Malfoy’s voice filled her head. Granger, as much as I like your plan better, they won’t agree to change plans that have already been made. Just be careful on the broom and don’t let anyone know there will be Death Eaters at some point to meet you.
“Granger,” Moody’s voice sounded harsh to her ears, “we can’t change the plan that has already been solidified. If you’re too afraid to fly, just say so and we will pull a replacement.”
The dismissal caused Ron to smile softly in relief that she might not be out there. This only hardened her resolve and the promise she made to Molly earlier. “Oh, it’s no trouble to fly, I was just offering another solution that would ensure no causalities or injuries if we were to encounter Death Eaters in the skies.”
Malfoy was truly rubbing off on her. Her voice was calm and cool, the same way his was whenever he would interact with her the last few years at school. Never filled with hate or malice, just cool indifference.
Maybe I’ll make a Slytherin out of you, darling. Godric, he really needed to stop calling her ‘darling.’ It was starting to make her smile.
After everyone seemed pleased they wouldn’t have to replace one, they got into how they would retrieve the hairs from Harry, as Hermione pointed out there was no earthly way Harry James Potter would willingly turnover something that would put his friends and family in danger. They decided she would be the one to do what was necessary to get enough hair for seven people.
Tonks kept catching her eye from across the table where she sat with Remus. She’d stare at the older woman for a few minutes, trying to see what it was that pulled Tonks’ interest. After the meeting was dismissed so people could get ready to leave, Hermione waved the twins off and walked over to the Auror and werewolf couple.
“Hi, Tonks,” she said, smile plastered on her face.
“Hermione, I wanted to talk to you later,” Tonks started. “There is something—”
She was cut off by the appearance of one Ronald Weasley at Hermione’s right side. Fighting to remain impassive, and not roll her eyes at this overprotectiveness, Hermione motioned for Tonks to continue. But, Tonks simply shook her head slightly and changed the subject.
“Hey, little Weasley.” Beside her, Ron tensed. Being known as ‘little Weasley’ was not his favorite nickname. “You’re matched with me, are you ready to go into battle?”
Ron seemed to pale slightly. “Battle? Why would there be a battle? No one knows about this plan besides the Order, right?”
Why on earth is he so squeamish right now? Hermione thought, not thinking she’d get an answer. But, Malfoy was always ready with a retort against a Weasley.
Maybe he finally realized how real the threat of war is. He did always seem to believe he was more important and untouchable than he was, so maybe he is being confronted with his own mortality. Give him hell, Granger.
“Give him hell, Granger.” The words settled in her head, reaching back to that day in the library when Nott told her the same thing, and Malfoy told her to give him worse. Squaring her shoulders, she let Ron and Tonks talk for a bit while she went over any and all spells she may need in the event of an ambush.
Kingsley called for attention. “It’s time. Get to your pairs. Hermione,” he looked at her, “let’s see what you can do in the air.”
Being paired with Kingsley was a blessing, she supposed. The older man seemed to abhor getting on a broom at his age, so they were going to ride on Threshals, which was much better than operating a broom.
Granger, one day I will get you on a broom, with someone who can properly operate one, and you’ll see what you’re missing out on.
As she, Kingsley, and the rest of the group made to apparate, she smiled slightly at the indignation in Malfoy’s tone.
Sure, you will Malfoy. When she felt the side apparition kick in, she allowed herself to have hope that they would be able to meet after the war was won so that he could teach her how to ride a broom properly. Like a boy would teach a girl he liked, like how normal teenage witches and wizards were supposed to act.
-----
The plan was going about as well as she said it would. Harry refused to be complicit in endangering the ones he cared for, particularly about endangering her when he learned of the flying aspect of the plan.
Making her way over to him under the guise of giving him a hug, she reached around his head and plucked a small pinch of hair from him.
“Ouch! Hermione, what the hell?” He cried as she handed the hairs to Moody.
She shrugged. “You need to be moved. This is the plan. You can’t force us to change it because of your refusal to do what is necessary.”
To her left, Ron gaped at her. You continually underestimate me, and my desire to win this war, Ronald.
Malfoy was silent since they arrived at Number 4 Privet Drive, and for the first time since learning of their connection, she was slightly saddened by his silence.
I have other things to attend to, darling. And besides, you don’t need to be distracted by the conversation happening in your head, so I’ll say this once: keep a cool head, you are brilliant with spells, and make it back to the Burrow in one piece. Don’t be heroic, for once, be selfish.
As she mounted the Threshal, she breathed in his advice. Unless Harry is going down?
He chuckled. How would you know which one is Harry? Last time, Granger: don’t be heroic, be selfish, and get back safely.
If Hermione wasn’t so distracted by her thoughts about Harry getting to the Burrow safely, she would’ve thought Malfoy cared deeply for her by the way he spoke.
-----
In the end, only one casualty to count and one injury to heal. Moody went down with a fight, took five Death Eaters with him. Fred sat on the floor next to the lumpy couch as George attempted joke after joke about having one ear. But Harry was safe; Harry was unharmed.
Hermione sat on the floor next to Fred, listening to George crack jokes, counting her lucky stars that none of her friends were fatally harmed, and wondering what that said about her when a second leader of the Order of the Phoenix was dead.