Chapter 11
“We should contact Snape.” It was said with such confidence and a tone that told Hermione there was no arguing with the youngest Weasley.
She raised her eyebrow and looked up from her book. “Oh? And how do you propose we go about doing that? Moody and Kingsley only saw Snape once before the mission to get Harry, what makes you think the professor who despised Gryffindor would respond to a summons from four Gryffindors?”
Harry and Ron were playing chess, but Harry spoke up. “She’s got a point, Gin.”
“I’m not saying the four of us write him a love note requesting his greasy presence,” Ginny said. “But I know he would respond to one of us, should they ask.”
Hermione snapped her book shut with a glare to Ginny. It had been three days since they took to hiding away in Grimmuald, only giving them a few more days to find someplace else to go. It had been three days since she heard from Malfoy. Not for lack of trying. She tried to talk to him daily, with no luck. But to involve Snape, and in front of the boys, was not something Hermione was interested in.
“Why Snape?” she countered.
Ginny shrugged. “You-Know-Who is a purist, he’s obsessed with collecting old families. If Snape is in fact a member of the Prince family, surely Snape would be involved in Death Eater business from the first war. Plus, we need someone who has more insight into pureblood culture. Ron and I might be pureblood, but blood traitors, remember?”
The girl had a point. The one chance for the quartet to gain access to an outside perspective was suddenly mute. It stung that Ginny pointed it out, despite knowing that Hermione stayed up hoping to hear from him.
“Plus, we need healing potions and other such things if we are to go on the run,” Ginny continued. Harry had abandoned any pretense of playing and was actively paying attention to the girls. “No offense, Mione, but I don’t think you have enough healing supplies and food to last us more than a month or so in that bag.”
Hermione’s wheels were turning as well. Yes, they would need more supplies and having a connection outside the horcrux hunt would help immensely. She decided before she let her thoughts run long, but she knew the decision wasn’t in her hands. So, she looked to Harry.
“I know you don’t like him, but Ginny’s right.” Hermione spoke calmly, hoping to persuade Harry to see reason. “None of us know what happened on the Astronomy Tower, so maybe Snape is a double agent for the Order. He could help us.”
Harry broke into a grin. “Oh, I know Ginny’s right. I was waiting to see what you said.”
Ron was quiet. Ginny poked his arm. “I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him. He was a slimy git of a professor, what truly makes you think he would help Gryffindors when all of his house are in line to be marked?”
“Ron, that is unfair.” Hermione wasn’t sure why she was coming to the defense of some Slytherins, but to label the whole house based off a few didn’t sit well with her. “Just like you hold your family’s honor, so do they. Some of them might not have a choice.”
He glared at her. “We are supposed to be finding the real horcrux that RAB took. That is our mission, not involving people who shouldn’t be here. Especially not people none of us trust. Are you too wrapped up in your own personal tragedies that you’re willing to risk it?”
She knew he didn’t know the full story. She knew if he did know the whole story, he would freak out worse than this, so she simply nodded her head and went back to reading.
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An hour later, once Ron had gone off to take a nap, Harry approached Hermione. She put her copy of Tales of Beetle the Bard down and gave her friend a small smile.
“I noticed something while I was walking around this morning,” he said. “Next to Sirius’ old room, there’s another bedroom that has a name plate. Regulus Arcturus Black.”
She vaguely remembered hearing the name Regulus before, but she couldn’t remember where. “You think it’s important?”
Harry sighed. “Well, I brought it up to Ron, and he wasn’t convinced. But there is something in the back of my head that is telling me you might know where to investigate the second Black son.”
“I have only seen three Death Eater Markings; mine, Regulus Black, and Draco’s.” That was what Snape had said. Regulus Black, Regulus Arcturus Black, was a Death Eater close to Snape. Hermione’s eyes snapped to Harry’s, wide and earnest.
“Harry, I know Ron doesn’t want to,” she started cautiously, “but I think we should talk with Snape.” The boy before her didn’t give a reaction, only nodded for her to continue. “Think about it, he was Dumbledore’s go to man for a while, right? Why would Dumbledore, despite his faults, keep a known Death Eater around?”
Her friend wrinkled his nose at her slight towards his deceased mentor. “I don’t know. Frankly, I’m surprised the greasy git managed to stay on staff with his pleasant aura.”
She laughed despite the situation. “Harry, I am going to talk with Ginny for a few, but try to slip into our room later. There’s something I think we need to do.”
After nodding his agreement, Hermione took off towards her room. Ginny was reading from a worn book on the chair that Hermione had taken to sitting in as well.
“I am going to tell Harry.”
The book hit the floor and Ginny was on her feet. “What? Why?”
Hermione briefly recounted the conversation the two friends shared. The younger girl bit her lip in contemplation.
“I think it will do two things,” Hermione said when Ginny was quiet for too long. “The first is that Harry will know the truth and we will have more help than we had to begin with. The second is that it will potentially alienate Ron.”
To her credit, Ginny nodded. “After his stout refusal to even discuss Snape, I don’t think it will go over well to know we went behind his back.”
“But we are a team,” Hermione cut in. “It doesn’t matter our personal feelings; this is a war. Ron’s refusal to acknowledge help when it could save us all is childish. If he can’t realize there is more at stake than childhood alliances, then he needs to sort out his priorities.”
“So, I take it you have gotten over your romantic feelings towards my brother?”
“If he wants to act like this is a war in the 1700s where the women stay home and the men go to war, then yes.” That was the easiest thing she said about her relationship with Ron. She loved him, but in the way she loved a friend or a pair of old, trusty shoes. Just a few weeks into war made her realize that she and Ron were fundamentally different.
“Good,” said the younger girl, “because I would like to see where you and a certain blond go.”
Hermione picked up the book and threw it at Ginny.
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Ron had been surly for the rest of the day. Whenever Harry would ask if he wanted to join them for a planning session on where they should go next and what they should look into for the horcruxes, the red-headed boy would mumble his excuse and leave.
Honestly if he is content to act this way, I am tempted to just leave him. The thought was bitter and full of contempt. She truly could not understand what his issue was and why he had done a complete one-eighty in a matter of days.
I’m telling Harry tonight. He deserves to know he isn’t alone at the mercy of fate. Hermione knew she wouldn’t get a response. It didn’t hurt to try though. Please feel free to tell Snape I request his presence at the safehouse tomorrow at 8 sharp.
When the night wore down and Ginny pulled the door to the kitchen closed, Hermione was in a state of anxiety. Malfoy wouldn’t acknowledge her, making her think this was something out of madness. Ron was acting like a petulant child all afternoon, grumbling about this and that. And now she was forced to have a hard conversation with Harry.
The conversation started normally. Three friends sat around cups of tea and leftover stew from dinner. Hermione started talking. Harry’s face was as expressive as it always is. Emotions ranging from shock to hurt to anger to resignation played across his face. When Hermione came to the silence that now plagued her mind from the blonde Death Eater, Harry spoke quietly.
“Is this why Ginny is on the run with us? Why you went to grab her first back at the wedding?”
Ginny nodded. “I knew you’d leave me behind, that mum would send me to Hogwarts or off to America if it meant I was safe.” She grabbed Harry’s hand from across the table. “But Harry, listen to me. You are not the only person this war has affected, that this war has targeted. There are only a hand full of people who know about Malfoy and Hermione’s prophecy, but secrets get out. If he’s not even talking to Hermione, it means someone knows.”
Hermione picked up the conversation. “Harry, I have been with you since you and Ron saved my life from that troll. I have supported you even when the world turned against you. Please, you must know that you aren’t the only one who has suffered because of You-Know-Who.”
He nodded, tears brimming behind his crooked round glasses. “Mione, please tell me it isn’t true about your parents?”
“Why would I lie about that?”
Harry looked at her with pain and pity. “Since fourth year… You haven’t known your parents since fourth year and no one ever knew.” He got up and came around the table to wrap her in his arms. “I am such a short-sighted git. I am so sorry I was too caught up in my own problems to see it.”
Ginny wrapped her arms around the two friends, and the three of them sat there for a long time. Too busy seeking comfort and physical touch to notice the shuffling in the kitchen cupboard. They broke apart when the kitchen door opened, revealing an angry faced Ronald Weasley.
“What the bloody hell are you three doing?” He spat. “It’s nearly three in the morning and you are sitting in the kitchen eating all the food.”
Hermione recovered the quickest. “Ron, we are planning again, and we really want your opinion.”
Compliment his strategy skills. He’s sure to lighten his pissy countenance if you boost his ego.
That’s a bright idea, Malfoy.
“Ron—” she started but came up short. Malfoy. He just spoke to her. He was back. A breath of relief coursed from her lips. “He’s back.”
Ginny’s head whipped around to her; Harry looked back and forth between her and Ron; Ron gave her a puzzled, irritated look.
“Who’s back?”
Been worried about me, have you, darling?
She let out a laugh. He was making jokes; he was back. Hermione looked to Ron and said simply, “We need your strategy skills if we are going to survive long enough to win this war.”
The ginger boy did not look appeased by her avoidance of his question. But he sat at the table next to Harry anyway.
The other three watched him with different expressions: Harry with concern, Ginny with skepticism, and Hermione with indifference. Most of her concerns at the moment were about a blond in a precarious situation.
“Alright,” Harry started, “we need to find a place to go tomorrow, after we speak with Snape.”
Ron gaffed and rolled his eyes. “So, you all decided you’ll meet with him?”
“We figure it might be the best option at the moment, but who knows? Things might just change at the drop of a hat,” Ginny smirked. “Anything thoughts on this one, Mione?”
It was Hermione’s turn to roll her eyes, but she remained tight lipped.
Don’t think you will get away with avoiding me. Get your excuses in order, Malfoy.
Anything for you, darling.
“Yes, Ron, we are going to see if Snape will meet with us. Hermione already sent him a Patrounus to ask,” Harry said, getting the conversation back to its course. “We need a place that is unplottable, since Gin is still underage, or she needs to not use magic as much.”
“Or,” Ron spat, “we could send her home.” No one said a word, which caused Ron to seethe. “So you all want my sister to get caught, or killed, or worse?”
The look on Ginny’s face told Hermione the young girl was livid. She stepped in before the siblings could verbally annihilate each other. “Ron, it’s too late for us to leave her. She knows too much, much more than the Order knows about what it will take to defeat You-Know-Who.”
Harry continued. “Besides, if it’s common knowledge that Harry Potter is on the run with the two youngest Weasleys and Hermione Granger and we leave her, she’ll be tortured for information. Hermione’s right, it’s too late.”
“If anything happens to her,” he looked directly at Hermione, “it’s on you.”
The three were taken aback by the venom in his voice. No one knew what had gotten into Ron, but the mood was grating on Hermione and she didn’t know how long she would last.
“Don’t speak to her like she’s a bloody house elf, Ronald.” Ginny’s tone brokered no room for argument. If Ron spoke again, he was likely to be hexed.
“House elf…” Hermione whispered. Something was itching at the back of her mind, tucked into memories of school and a summer spent with the Weasleys at this house.
Most old families employed house elves, if your memory serves you, the Black family would have employed one, if not multiple. Draco Malfoy was talkative now that he decided he was back. But he had a point.
“The Black family house elf,” she said aloud. “Harry, Sirius left most of the Black legacy to you, right?” At Harry’s nod, she bit her lip in excitement. “Does that mean you have control over this house and all who were employed?”
He looked puzzled for a moment, before a grin appeared on his face. “Kreacher.”
The cupboard in the corner of the kitchen opened slightly, and the ghastly sight of the Black family elf appeared before them. “The Half-blooded Master called?”