Be Careful in the Dark

Hermione sat on the bench, resting her elbows on her knees. Her heart raced in her chest and she could feel every bead of sweat tracing its way down her body. She wiped a towel over her face and looked over at Rastilan and Frothy who were still beating on one another. These workouts had become fairly regular over the past couple of weeks despite her crazed schedule. It helped to work off some of her frustrations on the mouthy aurors. The three of them had managed to meet about twice a week and it was doing wonders for her stamina.

With a crack, Rastilan snapped his shin across Frothy’s skull who went down with a thud. Hermione would have figured the bigger man to be the stronger fighter but Rastilan was just so gods-blessed fast. Frothy would crush Rastilan if only he could catch him.

Hermione got up to join them as they began to stretch after their workout. As she stretched out her hamstrings, she finally managed to voice a question that had been banging around in her head for a while.

“Let’s say someone wanted to hide someone… give them a new identity… because they had information that might come in handy. This is all hypothetical of course. And let’s say that this someone didn’t want to go through the incredible bullshit the ministry demands.”

“Hypothetically speaking?” Rastilan asked, twisting his lips and raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah.” Hermione said, bristling. She took a deep breath and stretched out over one leg.

The aurors shared a glance and then Frothy replied. “Well, you’d need to figure out some way to circumvent the magic and law that prevents someone from doing anything Ministry related without permission.”

“Gee, really?” Hermione said, rolling her eyes at Frothy. “You mean the Ministry of Magic has magical protections? I had no idea.” She couldn’t hold back the smirk that played at her lips. “I need a better answer than that, gents.”

“Hypothetically speaking?” Rastilan repeated, matching her smirk.

“Merlin, Rastilan! Yes, hypothetically speaking.” The only time she really liked Rastilan was when she was punching him. Despite that, she found that she trusted the prickly man. His hatred of Voldemort was too intense and his struggle to control himself too obvious for her to not have a sharp stab of understanding.

“Well, you need someone who can access Ministry magic without anyone questioning them.” He replied. “You need someone with power.”

“Or someone who knows someone with power.” Frothy added.

“I see.” Hermione said.

They continued to stretch in silence while the wheels in Hermione’s head turned. It would seem she had some visiting to do.

XXXXX

“Thank you for seeing me, Headmaster.” Hermione said, moving to hug the older man.

“Anytime, my dear and please call me Dumbledore. You are no longer one of my students.” As he spoke, he guided her towards his desk.

Hermione stopped and put her hand on his forearm. “I need to ask a favor of you Headmaster and, well… I would prefer to have a bit of privacy.”

Dumbledore’s eyebrows rose up to the edge of his forehead.

“I see. Well then, this way, Hermione.” Dumbledore walked up to a blank wall and as his hand moved across it, a door appeared.

The two entered a small sitting room with no windows and no portraits. Hermione nodded.

“What is the matter, Hermione? I have been reading the reports you’ve been sending me about your research. I know you’re frustrated with your progress forward but these things take time.” Dumbledore offered a cup of tea and a biscuit while he spoke.

“It’s not about my research… though while I’m here I’ll probably give you an update anyhow. No, I have a problem.” Hermione accepted the tea and refused the biscuit. “A potential Death-Eater has come to me and told me that they do not want to take the Dark Mark. I’ve dosed them with veritaserum and confirmed their story. I’ve conducted several tests—both charms and potion—to search for any hint they have been magically altered. As far as I can tell, their desire to avoid this war is legitimate.” Hermione paused, staring off into space. The oddness of protecting Pansy Parkinson from the Ministry of Magic and Dumbledore was a sharp and itchy feeling.

“Why not have the Ministry deal with them? There are procedures for such an occurrence.” Dumbledore dipped his sweet into his tea and popped it into his mouth. He had to leave the tea sitting on the table between them to do it because his right hand was useless now.

“I know.” Hermione twisted her lips. “This person doesn’t really have any information the Ministry will consider useful. They’ll end up in lock-up until the end of the war. That could take years and…” Hermione paused and swallowed. “We could lose. Would you want to be locked up in Ministry protection of Voldemort wins? No. They’ll take off and try to hide… mostly likely Voldemort will find them and kill them. Or worse, they’ll take the Dark Mark anyway because it’s the path of least resistance. I need a way around the rules, Headmaster.”

“Dumbledore. I see. I need to meet this person, Hermione.”

Hermione pulled a face. It seemed unlikely that Pansy would agree to meet with Dumbledore.

Dumbledore’s twinkle vanished and the intensity of his power flickered in his face instead. “I trust you, Miss Granger but you are still young. I cannot hand such protection to anyone without establishing their innocence myself.”

Hermione sighed. “If I get them to agree to meet with you, and you confirm what I have found… will you help them?”

Dumbledore nodded.

“Okay. I’ll see what I can do. Now, let me update you on my attempts to find a way to repel the Unforgivables.”

XXXXX

Hermione apparated to the neighborhood where she grew up. She was still several blocks away from her parents’ house. She didn’t want to call too much attention to the house with excessive magic. It was bad enough she had placed a disguised Pansy there. She began to move silently from shadow to shadow, her eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. The shapes and angles of her childhood haunts were unrecognizable in the darkness and only a pale sliver of moon shed any light on the small houses and yards.

Hermione crawled into her bedroom. She’d done her best to search for anyone who might be watching her parent’s house. Despite the protections she had on the place, she was still nervous. Letting Pansy in here had taken a lot of will… and an unbreakable vow from the blond girl. The death Hermione would dish out if Parkinson hurt her parents in anyway would last for weeks.

She shifted forms and reached out to touch one of the walls of her bedroom with her wand tip. Sweat beaded her upper lip as she forced a spell around the room that would keep the noise and magic undetectable to the outside world. She wanted the spell to be unnoticed if anyone were watching the house and it took more strength to create such a spell.

Finally, the spell was set in place. It would fade in a half an hour or so. It just took too much power to make a spell unnoticeable. She stepped across the pale carpet of her room, feeling like an invader.

“Parkinson” Hermione said quietly.

Pansy shot up, wand pointing at the room. Hermione could see the whites of her eyes and pale streaks of blond hair.

“It’s me, Pansy. Give us a bit of light, would you?”

The tip of Pansy’s wand flared to life and Hermione felt an internal jerk at the oddness of seeing Pansy Parkinson in her bed… in her pajamas for that matter.

“Where the hell have you been, Granger? I’ve been languishing in this… in this… place for weeks!” Pansy snarled at Hermione.

“Zip it Parkinson. We need to talk.”

“Zip?” Pansy asked as Hermione sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Yes. Be quiet. The only way to get you a new identity is for you to meet Dumbledore.”

“You told Dumbledore about me? Are you crazy?” Pansy scrambled out of the bed, glaring.

“I kept your name out of it. He’s the only one I know who can get you of the Ministry of Magic requirements.” Hermione put her head in her hands. Why did this all have to be so difficult? Can’t a person create a whole new life without such a fuss?

Hermione bit back a smile at her last thought. I think I’ve been two people for too long.

“But…” Pansy trailed off. She sat back down on the bed, turning her back to Hermione.

“But what? You can’t mean to tell me that a full body cavity search and lock-up sounds more appealing?”

“No. But…” Pansy trailed off again.

“What?” Hermione demanded.

“But I’ve got something on you. You have to help me. I can’t go to Dumbledore. He’ll turn me over to my parents or the Ministry or…” Pansy’s shoulders started to shake and she snuffled quietly.

Hermione blinked in surprise. “Pansy, I’m not helping you because you have blackmail material on me. Who would you tell, anyway? I was a minor, in school, and you have no proof. I’m helping because having one less classmate I might have to kill sounds really good right now.” And to Hermione’s surprise, she was telling the truth.

Pansy turned her tear-stained face to look at Hermione. Her blue eyes glittered in the chill light of the wand. “Really?”

Hermione nodded. Parkinson sounded so surprised. It was… depressing.

“Thanks, Granger.”

“You’re welcome, Pansy. I’ll set up a meeting with Dumbledore.”

Pansy nodded but kept her back to Hermione. Hermione shook her head and apparated back to her flat.

XXXXX

Hermione ghosted behind Avery. The bulky man looked over his shoulder nervously. Today, Hermione wanted him to feel like he was being followed.

Before anything else, Avery was a coward. He wanted power as all Slytherins’ do but he was unwilling to stick his neck out at all. This particular trait of his made it impossible for him to get the power he so craved. No one relies on a coward.

She’d been following him for two weeks now, letting her plans foment in her mind. Once, she’d flirted with him innocently in a bar. He had searched the corners of the room with narrowed eyes, searching for the boyfriend or lover he knew must be there. Bitterness, anger, and fear roiled through him at every moment.

She wanted him to be nervous, jumping at every unexpected sound. She wanted him to be uncertain, unbalanced…. sloppy. She’d already slipped into his apartment and moved a number of things in his apartment one inch to the left. Tomorrow night, she’d make sure the sounds outside of his apartment were unusual and threatening… hisses, snarls, perhaps a bang or two.

She had plans for Bryach Avery.

XXXXXX

Hermione opened the door of her flat to smiling Harry and Ron. Harry was carrying a pizza and Ron had a six pack of beer. She’d set anti-apparation wards on her home. She didn’t want anyone other than her self popping in and out of the place.

“Come on in, guys.”

It had been months since the three of them had managed to get together in the same place for more than a few minutes. Harry and Ron had finished basic Auror training last week and were in the mood to celebrate. Clearly, this meant pizza and beer.

The boys sprawled out on the couch. Hermione stopped to look at them, a smile flitting across her face. They weren’t really boys anymore but she couldn’t help think of them that way.

She looked at Harry’s arm, tossed carelessly on the back of the couch. He forearms were more muscular, even at rest. Her eyes trailed up to his upper arm, to the lines of definition that vanished into his t-shirt. It helped that Harry was wearing clothing that almost fit him. He still liked his clothing too baggy for his frame but since he’d started buying things for himself he looked less ridiculous.

It’s probably for the best. The female wizarding population already tries to crawl into his bed at every opportunity. If he actually dressed nicely, they’d be impossible.

Ron had changed the most. Hermione paused. No, that wasn’t right. Ron couldn’t hide how much he’d changed. Not the way she and Harry could. He’d lost the roundness in his face and his eyes were a little harder. Even though he was relaxing, he practically vibrated with his readiness to fight.

“Are you going to join us or what, ‘Mione?” Ron asked, looking over his shoulder.

“As soon as one of you louts shoves over.” She replied, walking the three whole steps it took to get from her door to her couch.

Both of them moved towards the middle of the couch and then stopped when they realized what they were doing. Their eyes met and then they both broke into giggles. Hermione rolled her eyes.

“You two… move over Ron.” She reached down, grabbing both a beer and a piece of pizza.

For a bit, they laughed like they had when they were kids. Harry and Ron talked about Quidditch and she rolled her eyes and inserted snide comments. They told her a couple of hilarious stories of training mix-ups that had her giggling.

When the pizza and the beer were gone, they settled into the serious business of catching up.

She filled Harry and Ron in on some of the details of her life. The application to Bibliotéque Nationale was in; now, she had to wait. She’d shelved the Chinese application for a bit. If she got into the library in Paris, she’d want to focus there and if she got rejected she would need to reconsider her answers for the Imperial Library application.

She also talked a little about her work on counter-acting Unforgivables and developing defenses against Death Eater attacks. Neither research projects were moving along… pretty much at all.

“Hermione, you can’t expect to solve problems like that so quickly. Entire research teams have been dedicated to this and still failed. I mean, it hasn’t even been a year since we left Hogwart’s.” Harry said.

Hermione pulled a face at him.

“Seriously ‘Mione, don’t beat yourself up over it.” Ron said, thumping her on the back as he spoke.

They were both right but she couldn’t help it. There was always a solution if you just thought about it hard enough.

“Enough about me, tell me what you two have been up to.”

“I think we’ve got a lead on one of the… items… we’ve been looking for.” Harry said.

“The cup?” Hermione asked, dread and excitement bubbling in her belly.

“Dunno. There’s a room in the orphanage he grew up in that is completely void of magic.” Ron replied. As he spoke, he pushed himself up from the slouch he’d been in.

“What do you mean, void?”

“There isn’t a trace of magic, not even the simplest energy signals that should be in the air, and the smallest spell gets sucked away almost immediately.” Harry said, frowning while he spoke.

“Huh.” Hermione let her eyes drift up to the ceiling while she thought. “What have you guys tried?”

“We’ve tried setting spells outside the room, spells for detection or warding or even light. The minute you set foot in the room, pfft. It’s gone.” Ron said, frustrating leaking into his voice.

“We’ve tried muggle methods too. As far as we can tell, there are no secret compartments or panels in the room.” Harry continued.

“Have you guys considered that there might be a conduit somewhere in the room?” Hermione queried.

“Yeah.” Harry said. “As far as I can tell, there is no magic going in or out of that room.”

Hermione hesitated. “It wouldn’t have to go anywhere.”

Both men swiveled their heads to look at her.

“If the magic being leeched out of the air is being funneled back into the spell… it would create a kind of loop. If you set it up right, it wouldn’t leave a magical signature.”

“Huh.” Harry and Ron said in unison.

They discussed the technical requirements and possible locations of a conduit loop. At its most basic level, all magic was the same and magic was everywhere. If you created a link between magics at the simplest level, you could use magic from one thing (say, a tree) to bolster the magic of something else (like a charm). Magical energy wasn’t very thick in non-wizarding areas but it was still there. Even muggles carried a trace of magic within them, though some more than others. Using conduit magic to pull magic from a muggle place was a waste of energy… unless you wanted a small spell to be self-sustaining.

Then the conversation shifted to the Death Eater attacks moving throughout Europe and a brainstorming session of what Voldemort’s plans for the upcoming years might be. In the end, Hermione found herself having an intense discussion with Harry about psychological motivations and the connection between the mind and magic. Somewhere in the midst of this conversation, Ron had fallen asleep between them.

When he began to lightly snore Hermione looked down, startled. Then she looked at the nearest clock.

“Merlin, Harry. It’s 2am.” The conversation had lasted hours and she hadn’t even noticed.

Harry looked around, blinking in surprise. “We need to get out of here. We’re supposed to report to our new assignments tomorrow morning. The Aurors don’t really appreciate tardiness.”

Hermione smiled at Harry and then slipped off the couch. She picked up several beer bottles and the pizza box and headed towards the kitchen area of her flat. She heard Harry gather up the rest of the bottle and follow her.

“Thanks, Harry.”

“No problem.”

She set the pizza box on her counter and started putting the beer bottles in the sink. She’d rinse them out tomorrow… or really, later today.

Harry set the rest of the bottles down on the counter. Then he moved behind her, his body heat reaching out for her, the fingertips of his left hand trailing up her arm.

“You look different.” He said, as he gently touched the muscles in her arm.

“Yes.” She briefly considered using a charm to hide her increased leanness but decided she could only do so much lying to her closest friends. She suppressed a shiver as goosebumps broke out on her skin.

“Are you really ok?” He asked, his right hand slipping under her tank top and he splayed his hand across her belly.

Hermione let out a tiny gasp before she answered. “Yes.” She swallowed, forcing her tight throat to move.

His fingers tips moved back down and he settled his hand over hers before tucking his head into the crook of her neck. They were only touching at three points but Hermione felt the tension between them in her entire body.

The warp and weft of her entire life had been altered the day she chose to become Harry Potter’s friend… and he knew it. The bonds of obligation between them were thick, sometimes biting and sometimes comforting. She belonged to him as he belonged to her and no matter how their lives branched off from one another, they were intertwined at the root. Despite the lack of romantic feelings between them, it was hardly surprising that this connection felt sexual. Sex had the potential to express the tangle of vulnerability and strength of an intense, voluntary emotional bond that was so tight they could no longer escape.

She repeated the last part to herself several times. Sleeping with Harry was a complication she could not afford. If he felt possessive now, she knew it would only increase if she bedded him. She needed space to complete her plans.

“We should go.” Harry said as he lifted his head from her shoulder.

“We all have to get up tomorrow.” Hermione replied, the skin of her neck and shoulder feeling chilled without his body heat.

Harry moved away, heading back to the couch. He pulled his wand from his pocket and zapped Ron with it.

“Who-hu-wah?” Ron said, as he leapt to his feet, brandishing his wand. He had it pointed at Harry before he had blinked the sleep fully from his eyes. “You’re a wanker.” He said when he realized who had woken him.

“I know.” Harry replied with a bit of a sparkle in his eyes.

“All right, out you go guys.” Hermione said, biting back a giggle. It was far too late for these kinds of shenanigans. She hugged both of them goodbye and watched them head out into the night.

She leaned her head against her closed front door, closing her eyes and heaving an enormous sigh.

XXXXXXX

Author’s note: First, I want to thank people for their reviews. I really appreciate the comments and they are definitely motivating. Second, I think I’ve got a good idea where this story is going and I am going to try to make sure all the loose ends are tied up. So, Snape will definitely be making an appearance again and I hope to convince that removing his clothes is a good idea. 