#4 ~ The \"Up Against the Wall\" Wars

Disclaimer: All Characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine.
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Chapter 11 ~ Ready and Randy for War

Hermione walked along the sidewalk of the main street of Hogsmeade, her eyes sliding from golem to golem, and occasionally looking over her shoulder as she tried to identify any perceived threat. The time of day was dusk, and the street torches began to slowly flare to life. For all appearances, the golems seemed like normal witches and wizards, passing in silence, some with a friendly nod or quick smile when making eye contact, others seemingly oblivious to her presence, busy with their own psuedo-lives

She saw all the familiar shops lining the main road. Honeydukes Sweet Shop, Dervish and Banges, Madam Puddifoot’s, Zonko’s and Gladrag’s Wizardwear. Patrons were entering and exiting the shops, carrying purchases or wearing the look of browsers. Hermione felt like a coiled spring as she weaved her way through the golems, ready to spring at the slightest touch. But no one touched her, and she could discern no one following her either. Up ahead she recognized the gently swaying sign of The Three Broomsticks. She picked up her pace, and turned into the inn.

Inside was a perfect replica of Madame Rosmerta’s establishment. People sat at tables and booths, and although golems were reputed not to talk, there was a low murmur of voices as the patrons drank and ate. Over the bar was the familiar mirror. Hermione walked up to the bar and pretended to look at herself in the silver glass, but actually was scanning the seated patrons to see if she could discern anyone that might mean her ill. All seemed involved in enjoying themselves and their libations. She was unnoticed. Madame Rosmerta golem was moving back and forth behind the bar, serving drinks and collecting money. Hermione caught her attention, and ordered a pumpkin juice. The witch nodded with a smile and poured an ice-cold pumpkin juice from a tap near the end of the bar. Hermione handed her a couple of knuts, and carried her drink to a table that sat close to the wall. She sat down facing the front door, and took a sip of her juice. It was cold and sweet, delicious actually. Dumbledore really went all out.

Hermione was thirstier than she thought, and drained her glass quickly. She still did not see anyone that looked to be a danger. Suddenly, she was uncomfortably aware of nature calling. She had to pee, badly. She rose and headed for the public loo, squeezing past a couple of women thoughtlessly blocking the way. She entered a stall and relieved herself with a sigh. She exited and walked over to the sink to wash her hands. As she turned on the tap and wet her hands, the door opened and a young woman entered. She smiled prettily at Hermione and walked toward the stalls. As Hermione reached for the soap, a strong feminine arm wrapped around her throat and a flash of metal approached from the high left. A knife!

Hermione grasped the falling knife arm by the wrist with her left hand, and grasped the woman’s arm around her throat with her right, pulling down on it to test where the woman’s weight was and pushing back to give herself room. Still holding the knife hand, she quickly bent at the waist and using her hips flung the woman over her back to the hard floor, the knife hand still held tightly. Hermione wrested the knife from the woman, then pulled out her wand and stunned her. The golem froze, then faded away, as did the knife Hermione held.

Panting, Hermione backed up to the sink and rested on it, her heart pounding. She hadn’t expected to be attacked by a witch, and she certainly didn’t expect a muggle weapon. The room of requirement was no joke. It had shown her with one example she had to drop her preconceived notions that her attackers would be male and unarmed. But at least she had thwarted her first attack. And it felt good. She pulled herself together, turned and calmly finished washing her hands, dried them and left the loo.

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Upstairs in the kitchen, Tonks was doing a wild little victory dance, pumping her fists in the air as Kingsley grinned into the scrying mirror.

“That was brilliant!” the metamorph cried, punching Kingsley in the back of his shoulder, almost making him drop the charmed glass. “Did you see her just block that knife and take her out! She didn’t hesitate a moment!” Tonks declared as she dropped back in the seat next to the wizard.

“Yes, but that was pretty intense for a first attack. A woman? A knife? That was quite a first run. Totally unexpected, and I’ve been watching these sessions for years. Most first attacks occur without weapons, in an open area, where there is plenty of room for the trainee to maneuver. She barely had any space to work with and had to ward off a knife attack her first time out. The Room of Requirement seems to have skipped the beginner’s level and taken her directly to intermediate. Interesting.”

Tonks looked at Kingsley quizzically. “What do you think that means?” she asked him, her eyebrows raised.

“Well,” Kingsley said slowly as he watched Hermione exit The Three Broomsticks through the mirror, “I think that the Room knows Hermione’s time is short and is compensating, the intent being to put her in the position to face decidedly more dangerous situations quickly. I wouldn’t be surprised if the golems became recognizable soon.”

Tonks digested this. It meant that the golems would probably take on the form of Snape shortly. This would be a real challenge for Hermione, meeting her lover as an enemy, and taking him out without hesitation. She imagined it would take several rewinds for the young witch to act with dispatch.

“It also means,” Kingsley said, looking at Tonks with a serious expression, “That Hermione is probably in more danger than we thought. By rights, she should have been in the Hogwarts scenario, facing Severus, not Hogsmeade Village facing strangers. That is what we thought her immediate needs were. Obviously we are wrong. She is targeted, correct?”

Tonks nodded, “Yeah, right at the top of the list, but since there have never been any previous attempts on her life, the Order hasn’t been focusing on her, feeling her safe at Hogwarts.”

“Something’s changed,” Kingsley said, frowning into the mirror. Tonks slid her chair closer and both aurors watched the mirror intently as Hermione made her way back towards the starting point. They’d have to inform Dumbledore.

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Night had come to the psuedo-Hogsmeade Village. The street torches were in full blaze and now the sidewalks were filled primarily with couples, walking slowly hip to hip, arms entwined up and down the avenue. Hermione was still vigilant, especially now that night had fallen, but she couldn’t help feeling a little wistful. True, she and Severus weren’t the most demonstrative couple in public, but she felt a twinge of envy at the golems despite herself.

She continued her slow walk, peeping into Madame Puddifoot’s shop as she passed. The shop still sported the revoltingly sappy pink decor meant to inspire trysting couples to the height of passion, while downing cup after cup of sweet tea. At least there weren’t any annoying cherubs shooting golden arrows. She saved that particular joy for Valentines Day. Still, she was doing a thriving business, with dreamy-eyed customers kissing and holding hands over the small round tables. As she walked past the front door of the shop, a man stepped out. Her eyes went round.

It was Severus.

But what a Severus. His long silky hair was pulled back by a black leather thong into an attractive ponytail. He wore a black turtleneck that accentuated his musclature, and black dress pants that fit him perfectly. He wore a black belt, the buckle the crest of Slytherin House. His dark eyes fixed themselves on her face, and she could feel the heat of his body pulling at her, as if she were magnetized. She looked up at him. He made no violent moves, but stood there, looking down at her, hunger evident in his black eyes.

Warmth filled Hermione’s body and she swayed toward him.

In the kitchen, Tonks was screaming at the mirror, “No! Hermione! Nooooo!” Kingsley watched silently as the young witch stood mesmerized.

Severus raised one hand and pressed it to the small of Hermione’s back, his long pale fingers caressing it lightly as he drew her toward him. She moved as if she were in a dream, her body beginning that slow burn of desire. He pressed her against him firmly, lowering his face and claiming her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss.

Tonks was having conniptions, and Kingsley shook his head as he watched Hermione succumb to her desire for the Potions Master. He watched as Severus’ free hand slipped into his pocket and withdrew a long, black, silk handkerchief.

Hermione was lost in the sweetness of Severus’ kiss. So what if it was a golem? It wasn’t attacking her and it felt wonderful. She began to wonder if golems were fully functional, when Severus pulled back from her and removed his hand from her back. She was still looking up at him when he seized the silk handkerchief with his other hand and deftly wrapped it around her throat, pulling it tight and cutting off her air. He was still looking at her with that same, passionate expression as pain shot through her neck and she clawed frantically at his hands.

Suddenly he was gone, and she was back down the sidewalk, approaching Madame Puddifoot’s shop. She had failed, and the Room of Requirement had rewound her back to before Severus stepped out the doorway.

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In the kitchen, Tonks was gently beating her head against the tabletop. “How did she fall for that?” she said, her voice thick from yelling at the mirror.

“Easy,” responded Kingsley, “She’s in love with him. The Room just showed her how that love could be detrimental to her health. I don’t think she will be making that mistake again. He probably gave her a pretty good choking before the situation was terminated.”

“Yah,” said Tonks, rising, “Come on, Kingsley, we better get down there. The Room is probably going to end the training program since it is her first defeat. She needs time to consider where she went wrong.”

Kingsley rose, walked over to a cabinet drawer and slipped the mirror into it carefully. He followed Tonks to the cellar stairs and followed her down.

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Hermione was stunned, stung, and hurt. She felt like a fool. Indeed, she had acted like one, allowing the atmosphere and her emotions to make her drop her guard, and act as like a hormonal sixth year. It could have cost her life. Severus was the enemy for now. She had to remember that. She also realized that he might actually try to use her love for him to get at her. He was a Slytherin after all, and would utilize whatever means he had at his disposal to put her off her guard. She looked up and saw the door appear in the center of the road. The golems all stopped moving and faded away. The town followed. Now she was in a padded room, must like the training room. The wooden door opened, and in walked Tonks and Kingsley. She dropped her head in shame.

Tonks walked up to her, and embraced her. “There now, ‘Mione. Don’t you worry about it none. That room is dead tricky, and it was just your first run.”

“I should’ve known better,” Hermione said, pulling back from Tonks, her eyes wet.

“Well now you do now,” said Kingsley kindly, “I don’t think you’ll fall for that again.”

Hermione looked at him, her eyes hard.

“I certainly won’t,” she declared, pounding her fist in her hand.

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The next two days Hermione spent hours in the Room of Requirement, defending herself against attackers, armed and unarmed. True to Kingsley’s observation, she didn’t run but hexed every opponent after taking him or her down. Now the attacking golems were familiar sometimes. She fought Goyle and Crabbe, both wanted deatheaters, and even Bellatrix LeStrange took a shot at her with a wand, though Hermione knew the witch was dead. She even noticed Draco Malfoy skulking about, but he didn’t attack her…yet looked at her with such hatred she felt her heart clench. And there had been a rat scurrying away from her, that she suspected was Peter Pettigrew. She threw a hex at it, but missed as it scampered into a dark alley and disappeared.

The Room was also sending multiple assailants. These she ran or apparated from as soon as she was able Hermione found it best to keep moving in these instances, freeing herself from one before the others could get to her, often using the stricken golem as a shield while she fired hexes, or even a weapon, flinging it into the other assailants, and then reigning blows, kicks and head butts until she could break free and flee. She knew her weapons would come in handy in these situations. They would make escape easier. For the rest of her training time, she never ran into the Severus golem again. She felt a sense of disappointment at this. She wanted to take him down at least once, to regain her lost pride.

Finally, the last night was upon them. She would be returning to Hogwarts in the morning via Harry. She had gone to Elton’s shop alone and picked up her weapons earlier that day without incident. The wizard had welcomed her in and excitedly showed her the items he created. One was a rope necklace; the next was a thin silver bracelet to be worn on the right wrist with four charms on it, a flame, a stone, a clock and an ear. The next was a simple pewter ring, with a sprinting lioness etched around it, and the final piece was a rather wide bracelet for her other arm. She decided to hide all of the weapons except for the ring, which she liked and would be seen as an expression of Gryffindor pride.

Elton passed a stone around her body that shined with a blue, pulsing light, it reminded her of Madame Pomfrey’s healing stone. Elton informed her it was similar in properties, except that it captured the calibration of a witch’s or wizard’s individual magic, rather than revealing his or her infirmities. It was then used to attune magical items to only work for that individual.

Hermione tested the items out on Elton, quite effectively. They didn’t harm him, but proved to be effective against attack, and helpful in securing escape. She donned her items, thanked the brilliant wizard with another much appreciated embrace and made her way back to twelve Grimmauld Place. With her heightened awareness of what was going on around her, she had the sharp impression she was being watched, and apparated as soon as she found a public departure area.

Draco Malfoy glared after her, his hands clenched by his sides, his knuckles white with hatred.

“Soon, mudblood bitch,” he swore beneath his breath, pulling up his hood and stalking away.

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Tonks, Kingsley and Hermione spent their last night together sitting around the kitchen table, laughing, talking and giving last minute advice.

“I really wish I could have met that Snape-golem one more time,” Hermione said frowning slightly, “I would have shown him what for.”

Kingsley chuckled. “That’s the wisdom of the Room of Requirement. Not being able to get Severus back during training insures that you will be significantly pissed off when you see him again, and not likely to get caught in the same trick bag. You will also give him hell when he does go for you.”

“You’ve got that right,” Hermione muttered. “He’s in for it, all right. He’d better not underestimate me.”

Tonks and Kingsley looked at each other. They were thinking the very same thing.

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Harry arrived at precisely nine the next morning to pick Hermione up. They were returning to Hogwarts the same way they left, by broom. Hermione was so geared up, she didn’t complain at all about having to fly back to the castle.

“Wow, Hermione,” Harry said, looking his friend up and down, “You’ve got the eye of the lion for sure.”

Indeed, there did seem to be a change in the young witch. She was more fluid in her motions, more confident in her stance. A kind of power seemed to radiate from her that hadn’t been there before. She looked at Harry, and crooked her hand into a claw.”

“Rowr!” she said, laughing.

Harry looked at her, grinning. “Snape better be on top of things,” he stated.

“One thing for sure, “ Hermione thought as she mounted the broom in front of Harry and felt him cast the disillusionment spell, “he won’t be on top of me.”

Harry kicked off and she was on her way to Hogwarts…and to war.

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A/N: ok…we’re rolling now…