Chapter 5
Harry found the kitchen full when he went downstairs. Charlie and Ron were in deep discussion about cancelled quidditch. Ginny was talking to her father about muggle things. Mrs Weasley was washing up. Harry blinked at all of them, not speaking at all as he sat down and took a few slices of magic-warmed toast.
It had that horrible magic-affected texture. Magic wasn’t good on food.
“You alright, mate?” Charlie asked. Harry blinked at him and conversation stopped.
Harry swallowed the toast, bits getting stuck in his dry throat. “Hermione’s parents were murdered last night.”
That was all he could say. The Weasleys all froze. Harry couldn’t meet Ginny’s eyes. He didn’t want to look at any of them. In fact, for the first time that he could remember, he wanted them all to leave. Every single one of them. Even Ginny. Even Ron. He wanted them all out of his house. He balled his hands into fists.
The door opened and Harry looked up to see Hermione stood there, wearing his quidditch shirt and pyjama trousers. She’d had nothing with her. She looked around the room blankly, ignoring all the Weasleys trying to speak at once.
“Harry,” she said weakly and Harry was over to her in a shot as she dissolved. He picked her up, holding her close to him, and he left the room, closing the door behind him. Hermione wrapped her legs round his waist as he carried her back upstairs and lay her down on his bed. She was sobbing, heaving with it, like she hadn’t that morning.
Harry lay next to her, as she cried, as she fell asleep and for a lot longer. He stared at her and hated himself. When knocks came at the door, he ignored them, simply locking the door and lying down besides Hermione.
Two orphans, together.
There was nothing any of the others could say that would make him leave the room.
XXX
Ginny pierced the shield late that evening. She’d figured out how to do it in the morning but wanted to give them time. She opened the door to find Harry sitting up with Hermione asleep, her head on his thigh. Harry stared at her, practically a glare, and she gave him a look, cocking her head as she gestured to the plate of sandwiches she had brought. He sighed and nodded, gesturing with his head to close the door.
Closing the door with her heel, Ginny strode forward to give him the sandwiches. “Ham for you, tuna for Hermione, if she’ll eat anything.”
“Thank you,” Harry said, though he didn’t touch the food. His eyes were red and his skin was blotchy. Ginny realised he’d been crying and she hoped that Hermione had been awake, that he hadn’t been on his own.
“Do you need anything else?” she whispered. “I don’t – I don’t know how to help.”
Harry shook his head. “Nothing you can do, Gin.” His voice was empty, hoarse. Ginny looked at him carefully and then at Hermione, wondering whether he was telling her how he was feeling. She felt a twinge of jealousy but put a soft smile on her face.
“Do you want me to leave you alone?” she murmured. He nodded. Wishing she’d not offered, Ginny stood and kissed his cheek. “Love you.”
He didn’t respond and Ginny left the room, heading back downstairs. “Did they eat?” her mother demanded immediately when Ginny came into the kitchen.
Ginny swallowed. “Hermione was asleep. Harry accepted the food.”
Her mum nodded. “Well, that’s something.” She shook her head, pressing her thumbs to her eyes to stem the tears. Ginny looked away. She wished she hadn’t picked a fight with Harry last night. It all seemed so silly now.
“How are you doing with all of this, sweetheart?” her mother asked her. Ginny shook her head.
“Nobody from my family is dead,” she said simply.
“No, but…”
“Will they let me in?” Ron demanded from behind her. Ginny turned to see him. His eyes were red too. Ginny shook her head.
“I don’t know. You could try. Hermione was asleep. Harry didn’t want me in there.”
“Well, I’m his best friend,” Ron said defensively. “We’ve been through a lot together. I should be – I should be helping them right now.”
“I’m not arguing over who Harry loves more, Ron,” Ginny said wearily. Her mother tutted and cut them both off, “We are not having that argument at all. Both of you can clean the kitchen before you head anywhere.” They both agreed silently, ignoring the pitying look their mother was giving them.
XXX
Harry left his room after midnight. Hermione was awake and staring into space. He offered to go and make them a cup of tea, so he tiptoed down to the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil.
With wandless magic, Harry slowly boiled the kettle. He needed a break from that room for a moment. Hermione was so sad, so numb, so hopeless with it all. She had cried and spoke a little bit but mostly they had just sat in silence, filled with self-hatred.
Harry blinked away a sudden rush of tears as the kettle began to whistle. He poured it into two cups, over tea bags and then slowly stirred each cup, watching the water turn from clear to brown, the bags infusing slowly. Harry was transfixed by it, so much so that he didn’t hear or feel Mrs Weasley approach.
“Harry, dear,” she said, her voice shocked. Harry froze and, before turning to look at her, squeezed and banished the two tea bags in the mugs. He turned, meeting her eyes briefly, and took the milk from the cold cabinet. “Are you alright, dear?” Mrs Weasley asked quietly.
“Hermione wants a cup of tea,” he said.
Mrs Weasley nodded, agreeing with him, but he could see she wanted to say something. “Harry,” she started hesitatingly. Harry struggled not to sigh. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”
Harry sat down at the table. His shoulders slumped. Mrs Weasley took a seat next to him. “Have you heard about my brothers?” Harry blinked. “Fabian and Gideon Prewett.” Harry’s mind whirred and then cleared. He did remember those names. Mad-Eye had shown him a photograph with them on. They were both dead.
“I didn’t know they were your brothers.”
Mrs Weasley nodded. “They were part of the original Order. I was too busy being a mother but I supported them. They were in hiding, almost, not like your parents, but they were reluctant to leave their wards if it wasn’t necessary.” Mrs Weasley swallowed and looked away. “I took them some food.”
“And they were dead,” Harry finished flatly.
Her head bobbed up and down. “Murdered,” she clarified unnecessarily. “Blood splattered everywhere. Blood traitor scrawled on the wall. According to Bill, very similar to what Hermione will have walked in on yesterday evening.” Harry swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.
“Mrs Weasley, Hermione is…” He looked away as he felt tears burning his eyes.
“Harry,” she sighed, putting her hand on his shoulder. “I know that you and Hermione are close. I imagine that you feel that you are the only person in the world who can understand what she is going through right now.” Harry wondered briefly if that was what he thought. He’d not really considered why he’d kept away all the Weasleys.
“We’re all each other has, Mrs Weasley.”
She blinked rapidly at him. “I know that you know that isn’t true.” Harry opened his mouth to interrupt. “We are your family, Harry, more so than ever now you are with Ginny.” Harry flushed and looked away.
“It’s different. You’re – you’re a family. Me and Hermione, we aren’t.”
“I’m sorry if we’ve made you feel like that.” Her voice was stiff now. She looked at him intensely. “Is this why you’ve retreated into Mrs Weasley instead of Molly again?” Harry’s mouth opened and then closed. He hadn’t even noticed.
Mrs Weasley shook her head. “I know you, Harry Potter. You can pretend all you like, but this isn’t about you and Hermione being orphans. You are pushing us away, even pushing Ginny and Ron away, because you think it was your fault that Hermione’s parents died.”
Harry had to turn his eyes to his lap to stem the tears.
“It is not your fault,” Mrs Weasley said strongly. She put her fingers on his chin and forced him to look up. “It is not your fault.”
“If Hermione wasn’t my friend-”
“She would be an entirely different person, as would Ron. Because they are your friends, they have been exposed to a world full of cruelty and, because they are both brave, they have both made the choice to step up and fight it. Would you take that away from them?” Harry did not respond before Mrs Weasley continued, “They made that choice, just as myself and Arthur have, just as the rest of – most of my boys have, knowing the consequences.”
Mrs Weasley looked at him beadily. “You chose to be with Ginny despite the potential consequences. Are you going to end that now, because there was a casualty in this war? Awful as it is, Harry, the casualties will keep coming.”
Harry let out a sob and pressed his hands to his eyes. “I could’ve stopped it,” he said thickly. “I should’ve been there or insisted they move here.” Mrs Weasley shook her head.
“You can’t determine how people live their lives, Harry.”
“It’s my fault,” he sobbed. Mrs Weasley’s arms encircled him, like they had all those months ago when he’d seen Voldemort’s atrocities. He felt her shaking her head against his.
“It’s not,” she murmured. “It’s not your fault.”
XXX
There was no ice cream to be had at Grimmauld Place. In the nearly two weeks since their arrival, still no one had bought any. Ginny tapped her fingers against the ice box and stopped herself from slamming it shut. It would have to be a cup of tea.
Her preferred option would be to go and get into bed with Harry but, parental disapproval aside, Harry was currently in bed with Hermione. Or at least in the same room with her.
And Ginny was fine with it.
The kettle seemed to take longer than usual to boil. Ginny ended up turning on the light. It wasn’t as though she was going to go back to sleep any time soon. Not after another dream of the Chamber and the diary and Tom Riddle’s voice calling after her. And Harry’s eyes flashing red. Ginny swallowed and barely noticed as the kettle started to whistle.
Cursing, she jumped up and pulled it off the stove. She was usually good at catching it just before it whistled. She poured it into her mug and stirred the teabag, throwing it away swiftly and adding milk.
Sitting at the table, knees tucked up to her chest, her feet balanced on a second chair, Ginny blew softly on her tea, thinking of Hermione. Both parents, dead. Bill had gone to sort things out at Hermione’s house, with Charlie and Kingsley. Mudblood had been scrawled across the wall and both of her parents had been brutally murdered.
Ginny had never really imagined both of her parents dying. She supposed that it was inevitable that someone might die in this war. But both of her parents? It felt unnecessarily cruel. Hermione had no one left. She was the last Granger. Ginny blinked away tears. It was no wonder Harry was so sensitive to it.
He was the last Potter, after all.
When the door squeaked open, Ginny’s head flashed up, hoping for Harry. It was not Harry. He was still in bed with Hermione, clearly. Instead, it was Ron.
She gave her brother half a smile. “Sorry, you’re too late for a brew.”
“Charming,” he replied.
Ginny sat quietly while Ron came to sit down opposite her, his feet up on another chair. “Can’t sleep?” Ginny commented.
Ron snorted. “No, I heard you making the bloody kettle whistle.”
Ginny nearly smiled. There was no way that would have woken up Ron, so clearly he was not asleep. They were silent for a while, Ron staring into space and Ginny studying Ron’s face. As far as she was aware, he had not seen Harry or Hermione yet. Probably for the best, Ginny considered, recalling to mind Hermione’s head on Harry’s thigh.
“What did they say when you saw them?” Ron asked eventually.
Ginny shook her head. “Just what I told mum. Nothing at all.”
Ron swallowed. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Join the club.”
“I’m surprised Harry won’t let you in. You’ve been attached at the hip since Dumbledore’s funeral.”
Ginny sighed. “Hermione is his priority right now. It’ll be me again eventually.”
Ron shook his head. “I don’t know how you’re coping with it,” he said. “I’m not and Hermione isn’t even my – they’re just my friends.”
Ginny took a long drink of her tea. “Hermione is Harry’s – well, you’re his best friend but she’s the closest thing he’s got to a sister. He hates that she’s hurt and I’m sure he blames himself.”
Ron snorted. “You can say that again.” Ron glanced at her. “So, you don’t mind?”
Ginny groaned lightly. “Ron, of course, I bloody mind. I can tell myself whatever I want but I hate that he’s locked in there, sleeping in a bed with her instead of me. And it’s not that I think anything would happen. I just – I want him to rely on me, to trust me with everything.” Ginny took another sip of her tea. “And, most of the time, I think he does.”
“But this time is different.” Ron said, putting his head into his hands. “I just – I want them to talk to me but then I remember that I’ve got six bloody siblings and two parents. What the hell can I say to them?”
Ginny shook her head. “Again, join the club.”
“What are you going to do?” Ron asked. “You always do the right thing with Harry. I always just piss him off.”
Ron looked so morose that Ginny took pity on him and patted his hand. “Ron, I really do not always do the right thing with Harry.” She hesitated. “I guess I usually just sit with him and wait for him to start talking.”
“But he’s got Hermione with him now,” Ron pointed out. Ginny shrugged.
“Then, I guess I’ll just have to wait from afar.”
“I look forward to seeing that,” Ron said with a snort.
XXX
“We killed the guard first,” the death eater reported. “Podmore, an Order member.” There was a mumbling cheer that Draco glanced around at. He’d never even heard of the man who had been guarding Granger’s house.
“They are weak, the Order,” the Dark Lord hissed. “Weak and ready to die.”
“And then the Mudblood’s father was there, in front of me, and I stabbed him through the chest with a silver spear.” The cheer was louder this time and the Dark Lord was chuckling. Draco forced himself to join in, even as he felt sweat dripping down his face beneath the mask. He clawed his mental walls back up.
“The Mudblood’s mother was using some muggle metal and sobbing her daughter’s name against it.” The death eater speaking was laughing. “I set Fenrir on her.”
Walls. Walls. Walls.
“She died screaming.” The cheers were raucous. Walls were easy to build if he just focussed on one brick at a time. “And then one of the muggle neighbours came in, asking about the noise. So, we killed him too. Quick Avada Kedavra, after we’d chucked him about a few times.”
Laughter only died away when the Dark Lord took a step forward. “Well done, my friends,” he hissed. “You will be well rewarded for this.” He raised his voice. “Potter’s friends will know now the cost of their alliance with him! They will know that to be an ally to Potter is to watch everyone they love die.”
The Dark Lord smirked. “The blood traitor Weasleys, the werewolf Lupin, the aurors Tonks and Shacklebolt, all those we know that Potter loves, they will all be taken, one by one. But first, we will take his whore.” The death eaters roared their approval. “Ginevra Weasley,” he chuckled. “She was easy to target when she was a child and she will be easy to be rid of now. Her death would weaken Potter, but ultimately strengthen him in revenge. No, her capture will be all the sweeter.”
Draco swallowed and ensured his walls were strong as he continued to pay attention, until they were finally, finally, finally dismissed and he could apparate away, for a while. The Dark Lord was living in his accursed house, so he could only leave for short amounts of time.
He left, to where he always went, a huge field in the Cotswolds, not far from Oxford where Granger’s parents had been murdered. Draco retched, banishing his death eater robes and mask. Had she found them? Was she living there? Why was she not there?
He closed his eyes and hoped beyond all hope that she had not seen any of it, the aftermath. Soon, he told his shaking hands, soon he would be able to apologise. But not yet. He swallowed. For now, he had a front to maintain.
He apparated away.
XXX
“Hey, Hermione,” Harry murmured as he noticed she was waking.
“Still here?” she asked. Harry nodded. “Have you eaten?” Harry gestured to the chilli that Ginny had brought them both, one bowl still full, one empty.
“Do you want yours?”
Hermione cleared her throat. “I suppose that I should.” Hermione took the bowl from Harry, who magically warmed it, and grimaced gratefully. “It’s your birthday in a couple of weeks,” Hermione said between bites.
“It is,” Harry agreed.
“It seems to have flown by, doesn’t it, this time between Hogwarts and now.”
“Yeah,” he sighed.
“To think, I was complaining about not living here,” Hermione said with a tearful laugh. “And now I don’t have a choice in the matter.”
Harry swallowed. “Have you heard from Malfoy?” he asked. Hermione’s body went tense. They didn’t really speak about his offer to be a spy. Hermione shook her head stiffly. “Do you think…”
“I don’t want to know,” Hermione said. “If he knew about my parents, if he tried to warn me, if he had no clue. I don’t want to know.”
“Do you think it’s possible that he’s-”
“No,” she disagreed quickly. “He wouldn’t have.”
“Okay,” Harry agreed peaceably. He took her hand and squeezed it. She met his eyes, hers filled with tears. “I’m so sorry, Hermione.”
Hermione paused, looking away. “Harry, if you mean that you’re sorry that my parents are dead, then thank you. But, if you’re trying to apologise because you think it’s your fault, then I don’t want your apology.” Harry opened his mouth. “I know I’m not going to convince you of anything here, but you’ve got to stop taking on everyone’s traumas as your own.”
Harry stiffened and pulled away from her. “What is that supposed to mean?” Hermione shook her head.
“You always blame yourself for things that you couldn’t have controlled. Like when Arthur was attacked by that snake.” Harry noticed that Hermione hadn’t retreated behind Mr and Mrs Weasley, like he had. “Voldemort is going to keep attacking, Harry, and, yes, he will attack people you’re close to. And, yes, it’s awful and I hate it, but it is not your fault.”
“Hermione,” Harry sighed. Hermione shook her head.
“It is not your fault.”
Harry closed his eyes to ward off the tears. He’d been weepy the past few days, weepier than he’d ever been, other than maybe in those first weeks after Sirius had died. Something dislodged in his chest and he had to press his palms to his eyes not to cry. Seeing Hermione become an orphan had been hard on him.
“If I could just-”
“Kill Voldemort?” Hermione demanded. “Even if you did, he’d come back! We need those bloody horcruxes!” Harry opened his mouth and closed it. “And, even if you had, Harry, it wasn’t Voldemort. It was his followers. You can’t do anything about them. They’re hateful people.”
Harry sat back and looked at her for a moment. Her eyes were red but fierce. She took another taste of her chilli con carne. Harry swallowed. “I’m sorry,” he said. Hermione gave him an exasperated look and Harry had to laugh. “I mean, I’m sorry for being sorry.”
Hermione giggled, looking up from her dinner. Harry grinned and he had to laugh too and, soon, they were almost hysterical, nearly crying from laughter. There was a bang at the door and Harry flicked his hand to open it, revealing Ron and Ginny. He shot them a grin and found Hermione doing the same, through her laughter. The Weasley siblings looked at them with fear and Harry snorted, putting his hand out for Ginny to come closer.
She came and settled against him. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and Harry met Ron’s eyes. They shared a small smile and Harry summoned him with a flick of his head. Ron closed the door behind him and came to sit with them on the bed.