Whom the Gods Would Destroy...

Title: Whom the Gods Would Destroy…
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA/NC-17
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Angst, Horror, Mystery
Warnings: Character Death, Graphic Violence, Adult Situations, Dark!fic
Summary: DH-EWE: The end of the world has come. Millions dead, magic waning, Hermione Granger and Charlie Weasley are the last people left in Britain—left to pick up the pieces of their once great civilization. Why were they spared? Who is responsible for the death of a nation? These are the mysteries left as a legacy for two lost and lonely people.
Author's Notes: This is my first attempt at a Charlie/Hermione pairing, so please be gentle. This fic is very much inspired by my morbid obsession with ‘end of the world’ scenarios. There are few OCs in this fic, and I have tried to keep much in ‘canon’ as possible. WGWD is unbeta’d, so pardon the mistakes, please?




Whom the Gods Would Destroy…

Part 12




‘quem deus vult perdere, dementat prius.’ –A Roman proverb






Charlie found Hermione standing in the open doors in the Entrance Hall, watching as two men were piling dirt onto another grave. She was not aware of him at first as he moved to stand behind her only a breath away. However, when he began to reach out to touch her shoulder, she turned. Hermione crashed into his arms.

Inhaling her scent, Charlie embraced her, the top of her head coming up just under his chin. She sighed into the front of his shirt, her hands grasping the back in a tight hold.

Charlie could feel people watching as they moved through the Entrance Hall, but it did not matter. There were smiles and kindness in those faces, but there was also disinterest and even derision. Hermione seemed more keenly aware of the darker glances and whispered that they should talk somewhere more private. Charlie did not disagree.

Ron had found Charlie only moments before to inform him of the DADA office, Charlie’s new abode. Ron had been short, and Charlie, after following Hermione back to the room, knew why.

“He wanted me to stay here, with him,” Hermione said, falling into one of the chairs by the fireplace. “I am not sure why he think I would…”

Charlie mimicked Hermione’s motion, sitting across from her. “Because he has loved you for a very long time.”

Hermione huffed. “He has a strange way of showing it. Ron was never overly affectionate, not in public. But when he thought he might lose me, jealousy overruled any notion of tenderness,” Hermione grumbled. “Besides, Ron and I broke up in 2000, ten years ago!”

Charlie said nothing, but studied Hermione’s face, noting how tired she seemed. He wondered that in coming back to Hogwarts really meant that they would be safe. At least they had a place to call home again, but like everything, as one gets older, the charm was gone—or so it felt to Charlie.

“It will be fine,” Charlie said softly as Hermione seemed to fume from some old anger she held within. “There are more important things to think about now.”

Hermione sighed. “Ron spoke to you about foraging?”

Charlie shook his head. “Bones. She ambushed me while I was talking to Oliver Wood and his family in the Great Hall earlier.”

“What did you tell her?”

Charlie shifted in his chair grasping his hands before him, his elbows on the arms. “I told her that going out to forage would be dangerous. Depending on where one went, they could become stranded if a front of un-magic, as I have been calling it, were to appear… Not that we really know anything about what happened before…”

“True,” Hermione added.

“And the ‘Three’ have not been forthcoming with answers to my questions either.”

Hermione’s eyes glittered and a strange smile crossed her lips.

“Lucius suggested that someone find the Horcrux cave.”

Charlie narrowed his eyes. “You?”

“It was implied, but the issue of a food shortage seems far more important. If they start to ration, I would hate to see what would happen.”

“People would try to leave on their own…”

Hermione nodded again. “I think we were lucky, Charlie. Lucky that we were together to make it this far…”

Charlie smiled. “I think so too. However, being here…”

“It is suffocating.”

They stared at each other in silence for a long moment, forming a tacit agreement.

“I’ll see what brooms I can find. You might consult with the ‘Three’ about where to go.

If we can find a ‘bottomless bag,’ that would be ideal, as well as some manpower…”

Hermione nodded. “Ron mentioned a few who might be able to help.”

“Leave that to me.”

They fell silent again, jade green meeting gold.

“You’ll need to tell them about what we heard,” Charlie said softly.

Hermione sighed. “I have been listening to what everyone has been saying. No one has mentioned it…”

“They haven’t because they’re afraid everyone might find them mad.”

Hermione frowned. “I don’t think so, Charlie. I honestly do not think they have heard the music.”

Charlie leaned forward in his chair. “If they leave Hogwarts, they will hear it.”

“Maybe. I just hope that those who are strong enough to go, will.”





The ‘Three’ seemed to hold ‘court’ in Snape’s old quarters, and Hermione found herself sitting next to Lucius on the fainting couch with a low table before them, an ancient map spread out before them. Ron and Susan stood near the fire, listening to Hermione’s words.

“Oban is closest, and small enough to be able to go in and out without attracting the notice of the Inferi. If we fly to the hospital first…” Hermione pointed to a floating marker, which resulted from a clever Charm Hermione created in her Fifth Year after studying the Marauder’s Map, “We can get what medicine we need and move on to the smaller villages to forage for food.”

“There might be smaller surgeries in the villages,” Susan said softly.

Hermione nodded. “I just hope there is someone here in the castle that help Pomfrey figure it all out. What good is medicine if you don’t know how to use it?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Lucius grinned. “Astoria may be of help, and Padma Patil.”

Hermione turned her face to Lucius. “They have formal medical training?”

Ron added his voice, finally. “Padma studied medicine in the States with Parvati. She is a Muggle doctor.”

“And Astoria, unbeknownst to Draco, was taking courses to be a chemist. Cissy and I encouraged her. ‘Tori was very good with Potions,” Lucius said softly.

Hermione realized then how little she knew about her own magical community. It was sad, she thought. She had excluded herself from so much, not purposely. Hermione had always been independent and very private, perhaps too much so.

“How long do you think it will take?” Susan asked, vaguely.

Moving her eyes back to the map, Hermione’s finger moved in a northeast direction back to the floating caption of ‘Hogwarts’ at the northeast end of Loch Etive.

“A week, maybe two. If you allow two to search for a safe haven for the night and allow for six to eight more to forage, it might only be a week,” Hermione speculated.

“The only problem I can see, is manpower,” Lucius mused. “Up to ten who can fly and fight…we cannot ‘conscript’ these people, and volunteers might be hard to find.”

Ron nodded. “A week, at best, might be too long…”

“What choice do we have, Ron?” Susan sighed. “If we start slowly implementing rationing now, it will work. We’ll have one hell of a time explaining to some families why they cannot have their elves bring them elevensies or extra tea, but we will have to try.”

Susan was eyeing Lucius coldly, but the older man only smiled.

“Brooms, bottomless bags, manpower, is there anything else, Hermione?” Ron asked, his disfigured face emotionless as he studied her.

Hermione licked her lips and pulled her hand back into her lap. “Weapons. Any kind of projectile weapons. Guns, preferably, but as it is, we are at Hogwarts, I doubt we will find an arsenal in one of the broom cupboards.”

“It might be something to add to the list to forage, if you can find it…” Lucius again, mused.

Again, Hermione’s eyes scanned the map of Scotland. When her eyes settled upon Fort George outside of Inverness, she grinned. “I doubt that this trip will allow for the time, but another, smaller trip to Inverness might not hurt…”

“That is, if we should need Muggle armaments,” Lucius purred.

Ron sighed. “Considering the way things are going, I’m not adverse to the idea of having added protection. There is a finite number of Inferi. If we can somehow diminish the number outside the walls, it would be set many minds at ease.”

“Which brings us to the second matter of necessity.”

Hermione turned to look at Lucius, whose face was still and grave.

“Finding out who is controlling these creatures, and cutting the strings by taking out the puppet master.”

“But we have already established that it is not just the ‘puppet master’ we must contend with, Lucius,” Ron growled, leaning into the wall next to the fireplace, his arms crossed before his chest.

“True,” Lucius drawled, shifting next to Hermione so that he leaned closer to her right side. Hermione cleared her throat when she felt his fingertips on the small of her back. “I have already mentioned to Miss Granger the need to go back to the source, to Cornwall and to the Horcrux cave.”

Susan snorted. “You want her to go? No offense, Granger, but I hope Mr. Malfoy is not suggesting that you go.”

Hermione shrugged to Susan. “I would not be the best person to go, Susan. If anyone, it is Harry, he knows where it is and how to enter the cave…”

“And Mr. Potter is in a coma, Miss Granger. The only people that were close to him during that ‘dark’ time are in this room. Surely, between yourself and Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter had divulged enough to allow you to locate the cave and pass inside?”

Ron was staring at Hermione, intensely. Hermione finally had to look away as Lucius’ fingers had slipped under the hem of her shirt to touch her skin. She stood slowly, and moved toward the door.

“I will have to leave matters to you three, it seems. If you chose to utilize my suggestions, I would ask that you consider Charlie and I as two who should go… I would also like to know who you choose to go as well…” Hermione said softly, noting that Lucius’ face was shuttered although he smirked at her.

Ron rubbed the left side of his face, turning to Hermione. “We’ll discuss it tonight. In the morning…”

“Yes, in the morning,” Susan echoed, her eyes on the fire and not Hermione.





Marcus and Katie Flint were sitting with Charlie in the front section of the DADA office, sipping on Firewhiskey. Hermione was surprised to see the couple, smiling at something Charlie had said. At Hermione’s entrance Marcus and Charlie rose, their hands moving for wands.

Hermione blinked. “Hello?”

Katie chuckled as the two men sat down, glasses of Firewhiskey in their hands. “Never mind them, Hermione, they thought you might be Ron or Susan.”

Katie Bell-Flint was just as pretty as Hermione remembered from school. Her long dark brown hair and deep hazel eyes were vibrant, and the years had kept her fit. Hermione knew that she had married Marcus Flint not long after the Battle of Hogwarts, and always wondered how that pairing had come about.

Marcus Flint was still a large, but not so trollish after so many years. He had fixed his teeth at some point, and sitting next to Katie, the man was almost handsome. His hooded black eyes studied Hermione for a moment, and apparently finding her to be of no threat, smiled.

Hermione locked the door behind her. “Charlie?”

Charlie was sitting behind the parchment covered desk with Katie and Marcus on a Conjured loveseat near the smaller fireplace in the front portion of the office.

“It’s alright, Hermione,” Charlie said softly. “We were just discussing a few names…people we were talking about earlier.”

Hermione nodded, stepping away from the door to lean into the front of the desk. Charlie’s jade green eyes ran over her for a moment before turning back to the Flints.

“I was saying that this ‘Three’ or whatever you want to call ‘em, really have no idea what to do other than poke their noses into a family’s business,” Flint muttered in his deep, gruff voice.

“You’ve just had an ‘audience’ with them, Hermione, what do you think?” Katie asked, holding a smaller glass of Firewhiskey on her knee, a finger tracing the rim.

“I do not know yet,” Hermione began, glancing to Charlie. “They seem too cautious about what they do or do not know…”

Charlie smirked. “I was just telling Marcus and Katie what we have noticed,” he said to Hermione. “Those who still can use their magical ability, and who they are.”

“Ron mentioned you both,” Hermione muttered, drawing her wand and promptly Conjuring a higher chair, leather upholstery and high back, in dark blue. When she sat down, Katie winked at her, strangely.

“Who else did he mention?” Marcus asked before taking in the last snort of whiskey from his glass.

Hermione rattled off the names, including the names of the children.

“What would you say if we told you that there were at least twice that many?” Marcus asked, using his wand to Summon the bottle of Firewhiskey from the desk, Conjure a new glass and pour the liquid inside. When he stretched to offer Hermione the glass, she took it, but did not drink.

“I would not be too surprised. Ron thinks that those people want to remain anonymous, thinking that they would be used in some way against their will.”

“Well, Ron is right about that,” Katie sighed. “Of course, I am saying this because we are two people who have full control over our abilities. We volunteered to help keep order and guard the castle. But there are others who are afraid. They still want to help in some way, but not under the ‘command’ of the ‘Three.’”

Hermione frowned as she finally took a sip of her whiskey, cringing as it burnt a path to her stomach. “Meaning,” she gasped, and then cleared her throat. “Meaning that these people are not happy with the lottery and the appointment of those comprising the Council?”

“To put it simply,” Marcus muttered refilling his own glass.

“No one of any real magical ability is part of the ‘Three,’” Katie said with a sigh. “It is not their fault, it was the luck of the draw. All three are intelligent, all three are resourceful, but there is a growing resentment toward them and to people like us who has not lost our abilities.”

Hermione could see the truth of Katie’s words, and the problems that might arise.

“I was just telling them about the plan to go out and forage,” Charlie said, his voice rougher after a few sips of whiskey during Katie’s words. “I also told them that if we wanted to be successful, we would have to rally those who do have their magical ability.”

“A wise thing,” Marcus said as he wrapped an arm about Katie. “We will go, and I’m sure we can get Creevey and a few others…”

“Ten, at the least,” Hermione said, already feeling the effects of the whiskey in her body. “I told the ‘Three’ that we should not get too far from Hogwarts. I suggested Oban in the south…”

Katie hummed into her glass, as if to say something, but Marcus spoke instead.

“We know Oban. Katie’s great-aunt lived on the seashore near there.”

“And I know exactly where the Lorn and Islands District is… My great-aunt died there a few years back after a bout with pneumonia….” Katie added.

Hermione glanced to Charlie, who nodded.

“There are plenty of villages between here and there that can be foraged. I’m sure that if we had a week, we could comeback with plenty of food and medicine for everyone,” Hermione murmured, having sipped again from her whiskey glass.

She continued telling the Flints what she had suggested to the ‘Three,’ seeing that the couple had no qualms with her plan. However, when Hermione mentioned ‘haven,’ the questions about her and Charlie’s travel north were voiced.

“Why do you think the Inferi would not go to those sorts of places?” Katie asked.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but shut it, as Charlie answered for her.

“We have theories, but it seemed to me, at least, that these places were special somehow.”

Finally, Hermione spoke. “It was not just churches, but common places. Pubs, inns, other structures. It was if there was an old magic running underneath our feet, something not yet drained away.”

Marcus seemed intrigued. Katie, however, seemed troubled.

“We came up by broom from Newcastle just after the Seal was enacted,” Katie said softly, her hazel eyes distant. “When we felt the Seal, we packed what we could and left just before the Inferi came…”

“We saw the black cloud of the Curse,” Marcus continued. “And we were fine. We knew we had to leave the house, and go. Everything felt wrong, smelled wrong. The Muggles were dead or dying, and then the fires started in Newcastle.

When we got here, people were fighting the Inferi back, and soon, so were we. So many died before McGonagall could lay the wards again… But all that time, we could never see who was controlling ‘em.”

Charlie sighed. “I could tell you who we think, or thought, was controlling them, but I doubt you would believe me…”

Hermione listened as Charlie told the Flints about the Ministry, Draco Malfoy, and Regulus Black. They were stunned, but speculative. When Charlie finished, Katie frowned.

“But it is not just the one. It couldn’t be. Who could have cast the Imperius on those people?”

“We think,” Marcus growled, “’We’ meaning those who still have their abilities, think that it started in London at the Ministry. We know who the sixty-seven were now, and all were in or around London just before.”

Charlie told the Flints what the ‘Three’ had said about that matter, agreeing with Marcus.

“’We’ think that whoever this mystery witch or wizard is, might be here, in the castle with us…” Katie added darkly.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Why do you think that?”

Katie shook her head. “As Charlie said, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Hermione.”

“Try us,” Charlie said, leaning forward in his chair.

The Flints glanced to each other, some wordless communication taking place. Finally, Marcus shrugged and answered.

“The music, we have all heard it here. We, who still can use our magic…”

Hermione stood suddenly, placing her empty glass on the edge of the desk, and began pacing. She was disturbed and elated at the same time.

“You’ve heard it then?” Marcus asked Charlie as Hermione began chewing on her thumbnail.

“Yes,” Charlie whispered in a soft voice. “A Muggle tune…”

“’Cheek to cheek,’” Katie said soberly.

“We do not speak of it,” Marcus grunted, shifting on the loveseat. “We do not sing or hum it.”

Hermione stopped her pacing, coming back to her Conjured stool. “Who exactly has heard it?”

Marcus sighed. “Creevey, he was the one who told us what it was.”

“And Hannah…she told me that just before Neville started to Curse Hogsmeade, he was humming it. Like some sort of trigger that set him off…she heard him sing it along with what she heard on the wind,” Katie whispered.

Hermione shivered. “Who else?”

Marcus blinked at Hermione. “Millie Bulstrode, Ollie Wood and his wife Joanna, Finnegan, Theo Nott, Cho Chang, Slughorn, and McGonagall. None of the children have heard it, none who still have their abilities. We know, ‘cause we asked…”

“We hear it all the time now, in the Great Hall, sometimes in the Hospital Wing, on the grounds. Even the centaurs have heard it,” Katie muttered with a hint of anger. “Hagrid hears it, but not very well. And as far as we know, we were the only ones. We’ve all talked about it when we got here, and we all agreed that we would never tell anyone until we could find a way to know what it meant.”

Hermione closed her eyes and took a breath. Viktor’s theory was wrong. It was not magic calling to magic, not truly.

“And you think it has to do with whoever used those people to cast the Curse because of what Hannah Longbottom said?” Charlie asked.

“It was not just that,” Marcus grumbled. “We started hearing it when the ‘sixty-seven’ acted. When Newcastle fell, that was when we first heard it, clear as a bell…”

“We all talked about it, and we agreed. The one behind all of this is here, at Hogwarts,” Katie said resolutely.

“That’s why we don’t trust most folk, that’s why we keep to ourselves, go out to volunteer our ability. Not all of us, but most of us… We keep separate, watching, waiting…”

“Until we can find him or her, and act,” Katie finished.

The office fell silent, everyone lost in their own thoughts. Hermione and Charlie met eyes, and between them, a dread shared.

“First things first,” Marcus grunted, rising and wandlessly Vanishing his empty glass. “We’ll talk to Creevey and a few others before the ‘Three’ draft ‘em to go. I know there’s a few that would be glad to get away for a while, no matter the danger. I know we’d be glad to go…”

“Are you sure?” Charlie asked. “You both are fantastic with a broom, but the risk that one of you might…”

“We know the risk, Charlie,” Katie said with a small smile. “And we know what is at risk if we don’t go…”

Hermione watched as Marcus took the half empty bottle of Firewhiskey and capped it, shrinking it and slipping it into the pocket of his trousers. Katie had risen as well, and like her husband, wandlessly Vanished her glass and then dispelled the Conjured loveseat with a tap of her hand on the velvety upholstered arm. It was gone with a pop. Hermione was impressed.

“We’ll be in touch, as will some others,” Marcus said, stretching and then grasping Katie’s hand. “We found a room on the third floor, near the Prefect’s bathroom if you need to find us.”

The couple moved to the door. Charlie rose and followed after. “Thanks for coming by, Marcus, Katie. As I said before, your trust in us is appreciated.”

The Flints made their goodbyes, passing quietly out of the office while Charlie held the door. When he shut it, he locked it again, drew his wand from his jean pocket, and began casting several wards.

Hermione then watched him begin scanning the room with his wand, sweeping it for something.

“I was afraid that maybe Ron or someone else might have surveilled the room,” Charlie answered when Hermione asked what he was doing.

“Do you distrust them so much?” Hermione asked from her Conjured stool.

Charlie, satisfied that the room was clear, turned to Hermione. “Distrust is not the right word. But a little distrust is healthy. And I’m not just thinking about this group everyone is calling the ‘Three.’”

Hermione nodded, “Fair enough.”

She left her Conjured stool and moved through the curtained partition into the other room, finding it cold without a fire in the fireplace. Even with Firewhiskey coursing through her, she could not stop shivering. After making a magical fire, Hermione still felt cold.

Charlie followed her, moving to the knapsack on the bed, the knapsack that still had tins of food and clean changes of clothes. Hermione noticed that the half open trunk she had seen earlier in the room was gone, Ron having given up the room on a vain hope.

Soon, she and Charlie were sitting before the fire on the floor, eating as they had for weeks, out of tins. They did not speak as the gloom of night penetrated the casement window and made the room seem darker, oppressively so.

They moved after eating, washing and dressing for sleep, Charlie in a fresh pair of plaid flannel pyjama bottoms and Hermione in the overlong matching top. They sat before the fire again, near each other, watching the flames.




Charlie held Hermione under the blankets of the soft bed, a down filled mattress below them, and a down filled duvet over them. He had been sleeping on his back, his arm curled about Hermione as she breathed softly against his chest.

He was not sure what had roused him as he stared up at the fire lit velvet canopy of the bed. Gently, Charlie slipped away from Hermione to sit on the edge of the bed, facing the partition, eyeing his wand on the bedside table.

Something felt off, and Charlie could not figure out why or how. He stood, grabbing his wand, and moved across the room. Slipping through the curtain to the front office, the dying light of the fire in the grate lit the room, but nothing was out of the ordinary. Moving to the door, Charlie could feel the hum of magic from the ward he cast, but he could also feel that someone was just outside the door.

He knew what had roused him.

Slashing his wand in the air before the door, the wards dropped and Charlie grasped the handle of the door. With a tug, the door opened to the classroom beyond and the dim interior where several sleeping bodies lay in cots and in makeshift partitions. However, standing before the door, propped up with two canes, was Lucius Malfoy.

“Ah, Mr. Weasley…” he began softly.

Charlie’s brows knitted in confusion. It was very late, past midnight, and Malfoy was alone and sweating slightly.

“I wonder if I might have a word with Miss Granger.”

Charlie cocked his head, incredulous. Lucius Malfoy was not in the Muggle clothes Charlie had noticed before, but in the dark resplendent finery, that Charlie always associated with the man. If it were not for the sweat on Malfoy’s brow and upper lip and the canes in his pale hands, Charlie believed that Lucius Malfoy would be the image of rich Pure-blooded Death Eater.

“She’s asleep, as I should be, Mr. Malfoy,” Charlie grumbled none to kindly.

Malfoy grinned. “I am sure. However, necessity demands…”

Charlie sighed. “If it is about the plan to forage, you can tell me, Mr. Malfoy, if it concerns Hermione.”

Malfoy’s pale brow rose. “And why is that?”

Charlie frowned. “That is none of your business, sir.

If you cannot speak to me, I suggest you wait until morning.”

He began to shut the door when a pale hand, still holding a can slapped against the wood with more strength than seemed possible from a man who had lost all magical ability.

Lucius Malfoy still grinned, and it reminded Charlie of a wolf—predatory and threatening. Malfoy shuffled forward and Charlie ground his teeth.

“I will make myself known, now, young Weasley. Hermione Granger is her own woman, and I think she has had enough Weasley interference in her life. The time will soon come where she will have a choice—between who is worthy and who is not, and I am worthy.”

Charlie stared hard into Lucius Malfoy’s eyes, and in the deep grey depth, Charlie saw a spark. However, the spark faded and Malfoy’s hand dropped from the door. With a disgusted growl, Charlie closed the door in Malfoy’s face, raising the wards again and stalking back into the back of the office.

Standing next to the bed, watching Hermione sleep alone, Charlie recalled Ollie Wood’s words from earlier in the day.

‘They are all calling it ‘courtship,’ as if it were something so innocent… These old families are bickering over women as if they were chattel to be bought. It is disgusting. Trying to preserve their bloodlines, claiming that they would stoop to mate with Mudbloods and half-bloods…

Watch her close, Chuck, since you got here last night, tongues have been wagging. You could be challenged. Malfoy, Zabini, Goyle, and a few others have been itching to have a look at Hermione Granger…’

Ollie’s words were beginning to ring true, and it made Charlie’s stomach knot. He would be damned if he let the likes of Lucius Malfoy touch her…

Charlie sighed, setting his wand on the bed stand, sitting on the edge of the bed. Hermione slept peacefully, her hand on the mattress where he had been laying. In the dim firelight, she was beautiful. Charlie smiled softly as his fingers moved to touch her think, wavy hair as it fell over her shoulder bared from the overlarge collar of the shirt she wore.

He supposed he loved her. It had nothing to do with the fact she had been the first live person he had seen since the nightmare began; it had to do with the fact that she was who she was—bright, strong, and beautiful. Charlie loved her, he would not go anywhere without her.

It was a decision he had come to even before they coupled, and Charlie knew it had begun forming in Leeds, or perhaps when he watched her fall from the sky north of Mansfield.

He lay down, pulling the blankets up around them both and inhaled as Hermione moved her body naturally into his side.

“What was it?” she murmured sleepily.

Charlie closed his eyes. “It was nothing…sleep…”





“We were able to find six Nimbus 2001 models, two 2000s, and two Firebolts,” Dennis Creevey said as ten people in all sat around the desk in the DADA office with Charlie just behind the desk.

“That’s great, and the bottomless bags?” Charlie murmured as he passed Marcus Flint’s never emptying bottle of Firewhiskey to Oliver Wood.

“I traded some food for Clement Crabbe’s bag, and Hagrid had one that he donated,” Katie said sitting on another Conjured loveseat with Marcus near the fireplace.

“Did Padma come up with a list of the medicines we’ll need?” Hermione asked the group.

Dennis Creevey, the Flints, Ollie Wood, Seamus Finnegan, Cho Chang, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Theo Nott all sat in the office. It was a strange gathering of people, but all had come to Hermione and Charlie after the Flints had talked to them individually.

It was almost twenty-four hours since the Flints were last in the office, and during that time, the ‘Three’ had only spoken to Hermione once. They would consider her plan.

It was not good enough.

The people assembled in the room were all young, almost all except Charlie had been at Hogwarts at the same time, and all could use their magic ability. Still, some could use it better than they ever had before, as if they had grown stronger during the chaos occurring around them.

“She wrote everything down here,” Cho said, pulling a small bit of rolled parchment from her pocket, passing it to the person on her left so that it moved to Hermione.

Hermione unrolled the parchment and read. Antibiotics, laxatives, antacids, alpha and beta-blockers, anticoagulants, analgesics, benzos, steroids, antihistamines, various hormones, vitamins, barbiturates, the list went on and on, but Hermione knew most of the drugs and their uses. There were also medical instruments on the list, sterile bandages, and sterilizing equipment.

“Does anyone here know what most of these things are?” Hermione asked.

Eyes moved and slowly Justin Finch-Fletchley raised a hand. “I can probably help… I failed out of medical school…but…”

Hermione said nothing, and passed the list back so that it got to Justin. “You’ll be in charge of that… Now, you’ll need to pack some food, a week’s worth at most. One bag will be for the medical supplies, the other for food. Only tinned food, or anything that is not rotten or moldy… Stasis Charms have not worked well for us, so keep that in mind.

Do not enter any place that does not have windows or a ready source of sunlight coming in. Inferi like to huddle in dark rooms and basements. You all should know what it takes to disable them.

And if you feel something…something odd about the air while flying, land. Do not use magic, no matter how small the spell…” Hermione said, her eyes moving to each face in turn.

“If you somehow get caught after dark, get to a high place and barricade any means of the Inferi coming after. Rooftops are best. And no noise. The Inferi cannot really see, but they can hear very well. If you are caught alone, or are stranded, keep quiet, seal the exits and wait for dawn.”

The group mumbled as Hermione finished, standing next to Charlie who had not thought of anything to add.

“Weasley said something about shelter at night?” Theo Nott asked, his strange violet eyes boring into Hermione’s face.

Hermione nodded then looked to Charlie.

“There are places where the Inferi will not go. Two of us will look for a haven for the night while the rest forage. I will take Chang to help. When we all get there, you’ll understand what we mean by ‘haven,’” Charlie explained, his voice strong and mature.

As Hermione looked upon the faces, she noticed that they looked to Charlie as a sort of leader. Charlie was older, though he did not look it, and Hermione felt a sort of satisfaction that Charlie seemed so calm.

“When do we go?” Seamus asked, his jaw set. Hermione could see that Seamus was eager to get moving.

“It is a bit rushed, I know, but before dawn,” Charlie said.

The group grumbled, but finally fell silent, realizing that they had to move fast. That very day, word was spread that by morning the elves were to begin rationing food.

“Get some sleep, distribute the brooms, Ollie. We meet outside of Hagrid’s hut at four am.,” Charlie said, standing.

“Are there any other questions?” Hermione asked as everyone began dispelling their Conjured seats.

“Be honest, Granger, how bad is it out there?” Dennis asked over the clamour of bodies moving.

Hermione sighed and then shrugged. “I cannot say, Dennis. While we were moving in the south, the Inferi were moving north, the majority of them. I supposed they were coming here, to Hogwarts. That doesn’t mean that the Inferi are gone from the countryside, but we noticed that they number had lessened,” Hermione murmured, glancing to Charlie again.

“Just everyone get some rest, we need keen eyes for tomorrow,” Charlie announced.

Soon the group was gone, leaving in pairs, just as many had done when the DA still existed all those years ago. Hermione leaned back into the desk with her arms across her chest as Katie and Marcus left last. It was odd to her that another ‘covert’ group of people had come together for a common goal. It was odd to her that they would have to hide their plans from everyone when it was everyone they were trying to keep alive.

“That means us as well, Hermione.”

Charlie was moving to the curtain when Hermione pushed off the desk and turned. Charlie was grinning.

As if falling into a routine, they washed up and dressed in their pyjamas. Hermione was brushing her teeth, looking at her face in the mirror over the sink when Charlie’s arms slid about her waist, his face visible next to hers.

Hermione bent to spit out the mint flavoured bubbles of her toothpaste and rinse her mouth, and in doing so, her bottom rubbed against the front of Charlie’s pyjama pants. He grunted while Hermione rinsed out her toothbrush, a grin forming on her lips. Rising again, Hermione could see Charlie’s hooded green eyes gazing at her face in the reflection.

“There’s something I want to do,” he whispered, “Something I have wanted to do, but never really had the chance, considering the state of things…”

Hermione blinked, “Oh?”

Charlie’s hands grasped her hips, and spun her about so that her bottom pressed into the edge of the sink. His hands grasped the waistband of her knickers, but stopped there, peering down into her golden eyes in the candlelight that lit the small lavatory.

“Considering that we should get some sleep, perhaps doing what I would like would impede getting the rest we need…”

Hermione smirked. “Then I would suggest that we put off desires…”

Charlie chuckled. “Ah, but I don’t think I can stop myself now.”

Before Hermione could purr a retort, Charlie had moved, stripping her knickers down her legs, simultaneously lifting her up so she sat on the edge of the sink. Hermione squeaked as Charlie knelt between her thighs, his soft and now shaggy dark red hair brushing her skin.

Grasping the top of his head to keep herself steady, Hermione gasped as his fingers parted her labia and wet, hot tongue lathed against her most sensitive flesh. Hermione was not sure what had sparked Charlie to act, but she could not complain as the tip of his tongue traced along the edges of her pussy, along the lips of the inner labia, upward to her thrumming clit.

Charlie hummed into her pelvis, creating the first nudge toward her climax. Hermione closed her eyes, letting her toes curl, and her knickers hanging from one of her ankles. She could see the scene, Charlie’s pale, and scarred body kneeling on the lavatory floor before the sink. She could see the silvery scars on his back rippling over muscles that moved as his hands and head moved to lap and lick at her core. However imagined, it made Hermione whimper.

Sucking on her clit, teeth flashing against the bundle of nerves, Hermione grunted a sigh, her head tilting back, the back of her head against the mirror over the sink. Just with the pressure alone, she came with a strangled cry. It had not taken long for her to climax, and as she did, Charlie’s mouth moved to her pussy, tongue delving inside, tasting. The stubble on his chin was a perfect rasp against her skin, and Hermione felt as if the orgasmic high stretched on and on as he ate her.

Hermione knew that his chin was coated with thick essence, and when he pulled away, his thumb pressing against her clit, Hermione whispered his name, opening her eyes. Green eyes gazed up at her face, pink tongue licking at a strong, pointed chin with dark red stubble. His lips were red, his cheeks flushed.

Charlie kissed her, surging up to take Hermione into his arms. She could taste herself, and him. It was slightly bitter, slightly salty, but it was like ambrosia, a mixture of something Hermione loved.

Love… Hermione allowed Charlie to help her off the sink, allowed him to pull her knickers back up her legs, his fingers brushing against the damp curls at the apex of her thighs. Hermione was sleepy, and satisfied. Charlie murmured something as they entered outer room, his wand in hand.

Hermione was slow to realize that the front of Charlie’s pyjama pants had a dark, damp spot and as she slid under the blankets, she smiled.

Even as Charlie stretched out beside her, his face still flushed, more from embarrassment than arousal, Hermione smiled. She was not sure what sort of arrangement they had, whether they were really ‘together’ as she told Ron and Malfoy, but Hermione was finding Charlie much more than simply a companion. He was a friend, and he was her lover, of a sort.

Relationships were always complicated in her mind, and as she closed her eyes, she knew she could not think about ‘relationships’ at that moment. Later, she decided, later when the shadow of danger was past…if that would ever happen.