The Unfortunates

Now, this is not the most exciting chapter yet - I know - but it\'s vital. Firstly because I had to correct a little of mistake of mine - which was spotted by my brilliant reviewer curly on Ashwinder, thanks so much - regarding Avery, and secondly because I had to take a bit of time to sort of Malfoy\'s psyche... Well, next chapter\'ll be a good one, I think! Long and eventful...

So just bear with me on this one, and review as always, please! :)

---


CHAPTER THIRTY: THE POSSIBILITIES


“One thing I still don’t understand,” said Hermione quietly.

“Yes?”

“You said Mr. Malfoy was assigned to murder Claud Avery, but Harry told me Avery was there at the night of Voldemort’s return.”

Severus nodded. “He was. I never explained that properly, did I? Well, it is really quite simple. The Dark Lord needed Claud, and the times following our graduation were hectic. Although Lucius was told to murder Claud, it was postponed. Claud himself was never informed he was supposed to be dead. He lived on for as long as the Dark Lord needed him... Which was why he also was there on the night you spoke of.”

“But you said he was believed to be dead...”

“He is,” confirmed Severus. “Lucius was told to act out the murder after the fiasco at the Department of Mysteries. It had been over a decade, but finally Claud got what was coming to him– or, so I thought, until you learned otherwise.”

Hermione nodded.

She had spent the entire afternoon with Severus, and as soon as Tonks had left again, they had discussed what significance it might have that Malfoy was still searching for Mira. Hermione couldn’t imagine what use they could have of this information, and Severus more or less agreed.

It was half past two when Severus then stated he’d like some time alone.

“To rest,” he added.

Hermione nodded and left him to his privacy.

Perhaps the remnants of his concussion were tiring him, but Hermione doubted it. He had opened up that afternoon, and although he had done so quite stiffly, and without once breaking down to reveal the true emotions that lay behind it all, it had undoubtedly affected his mood. He needed to be alone; she understood that.

Instead, Hermione sought out Tonks. The once Auror, now Rebel had seemed quite excited about “Mira” being wanted by the Ministry, and Hermione was curious to find out exactly why.

She found Tonks in the lounge, working her way through what appeared to be a whole new disguise repertoire, changing appearance at random.

“Hi there,” she said as Hermione sat down opposite her. “Finished questioning Severus, have you?”

“I wasn’t questioning him,” said Hermione quickly, remembering what Severus had said about not telling anyone.

Tonks smiled. “I won’t pry. But there can be little doubt, Hermione; it’s obvious something’s going on between you two.”

“It’s – what?” she said, startled.

“Come on,” said Tonks, “I noticed it ages ago. Even before we found out who you were. You got a thing for him?”

Grudgingly, Hermione replied, “I’d hardly call it a thing.”

Tonks laughed. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell – am happy for you, though. You deserve a bit of joy, Hermione.” She lowered her voice a bit and leaned forward in her chair. “Are you going to tell Harry? Or anyone else?”

“Gods, no,” said Hermione instantly. “Can you imagine it? I don’t even know where it’s going with Severus; it would be ridiculous to create a scene for nothing. Ron’d go crazy.”

“No doubt about that,” agreed Tonks. “But you like him, then?”

“Of course I do,” said Hermione quietly. “And I’m finally beginning to understand him. And I enjoy his company. That’s enough for now, isn’t it?”

“I suppose.”

They were quiet for a while, almost melancholic, as though the talk of something as common and old-fashioned as romance had brought back long lost memories of easier times. Finally, Hermione spoke.

“I wanted to you ask you...”

“Yes?”

“The parchment – or poster, really, that you showed me. You seemed so excited about it.”

“Well, of course,” said Tonks, acting as though it was obvious.

“Why?” asked Hermione, completely at a loss. “What good can it possibly serve us? Death Eaters enhancing their search, whatever for, is never good.”

“Don’t you see?” beamed Tonks, getting excited. “That’s not the point! Honestly, Hermione, that piece of parchment is a proof!”

“Proof of what?” said Hermione exasperatedly.

Tonks smirked. “Of Malfoy’s weakness.”

Hermione was quiet for a second. “His what?”

“Weakness, Hermione; don’t you see? Up until this point, we’ve imagined ‘Mira’ was just a common prostitute to him, right? Yes, he was certainly fascinated with you, but nothing too major. The fact that he went to the Ministry in order to find you is a display of weakness – he’s obsessing with you! The loss of you, or rather of ‘Mira’; he can’t take it!”

“You’ve got Malfoy all wrong,” sighed Hermione. “It’s not a display of obsession, rather of pride. I escaped from him, acted against his will. He wants to set an example; he just wants to prove no one gets away with crossing a Malfoy. That’s all there is to it.”

Tonks’ grin didn’t falter. “I think you’re wrong. No, I know you’re wrong. It’s happened a lot throughout history, Hermione. Many a man’s made the same mistake.

“See, at first, he just wants sex. Like any customer. Then he finds himself a favourite, right? In this case, you. He keeps returning to you, still believing it only to be for the sex; that he’s just picked himself a favourite. But then... Perhaps he does you a favour, or pays you extra? Perhaps gets a bit upset at the mention of anyone else seeing you...”

Hermione frowned.

“And then... Because he’s slowly, hardly knowing it himself, becoming obsessed with you, and above all because he’s paying you, he starts to think of you not as someone who’s providing a service to him, but as someone who belongs to him. He thinks of you as a possession. And hates the idea of anyone but him being in control.”

That did sound a bit like Malfoy, didn’t it...?

“Malfoy’s not the first bloke to have his mind clouded by a prostitute,” said Tonks with satisfaction. “And now that you’re lost, he doesn’t know what to do. It’s like a kid losing its favourite toy. He needs you to make sense of things. Without you, perhaps he thinks irrationally, acts irrationally, doesn’t know what to do in certain situations...”

“I think you’re pushing this a bit too far,” interrupted Hermione sceptically.

“Alright, perhaps I am,” said Tonks, “but it’s still a fact that I think he’s obsessed, and that I think it’s clouding his mind. I think, Hermione,” she whispered, leaning in close again, “that this might very well serve our cause after all. If we let it.”

Tonks gave Hermione a lot to think about that afternoon.

---

Stepping down for supper that evening, Severus felt strangely bereft. He had wanted Hermione to leave after their talk, definitely, but now... He was, for some reason, really anxious to see her again.

She had not questioned his decisions or his motives. He had told her everything, fully aware that doing so might result in her leaving him. But no, Hermione had not judged him, had not turned on him – she had simply listened. Perhaps Severus had been wrong; perhaps he could bear to live with someone knowing all his faults? Perhaps she wouldn’t leave him, even if she knew it all?

Perhaps he ought to tell her that he had –

No. Don’t go there. Yes, she had tolerated his story, perhaps even understood, but telling her that... It would certainly do no good; he couldn’t. He knew he had acted wrong in the past, and so did she. The things he had told her – well, his desire for power and revenge had been no excuse for him siding with the Dark Lord, had it? But she had understood that they were mistakes belonging to his past; things he were ashamed of. She had tolerated it.

But that... That was something no one could forgive, surely.

Jim Higsley hadn’t forgiven him for it. Why should Hermione?

Severus reached the ground floor and made his way to the dining hall. The other Rebels were slowly making their way in too, but Severus found he felt a strange feeling of relief when he saw that the seat on Hermione’s left was still empty. Without hesitation, he sat down.

She glanced at him, but didn’t dare speak, because the seats around the table were filling up quickly.

The dinner conversation was light that evening; everyone seemed to be in a more or less cheerful mood. Hermione spoke mostly with Ginny Weasley, who was on her right, and hardly a word save for “pass the potatoes” was exchanged between her and Severus. He was okay with that– just sitting next to her was enough. It felt right, as though it was a symbol of something. Of their relationship, perhaps.

He really felt they had not had the chance to develop that properly. They were at war, after all, and that could dampen most situations, but still... Severus found now, as he sat eating his supper in silence next to the woman he desired, that even during times like these – especially during times like these – one needs a bit of intimacy and closeness. Whether one likes it or not...

Without so much as a word or an expression, Severus gently placed his hand on Hermione’s thigh – just to feel her. Just to know she was still there; still next to him, with him. She didn’t comment it, but he felt he was welcome nonetheless.

As people were finishing their meals, Potter got to his feet.

“Don’t mean to interrupt supper or anything,” he said, a bit awkwardly, “but I thought I’d just say a few words. I’ve been speaking to many of you today, and, well, we’re... making progress, so to speak. First thing tomorrow we’ll be sending out different scout and spy parties, as well as begin work on spells and potions research. Professor Snape, I take it everything’s ready...?”

“It is,” he nodded curtly.

“Good,” said Potter. “Now, we’re on the lookout for anything that can help our cause. Wands, refugees, information... You name it. We’ll go through all the details during breakfast tomorrow; tonight we’ll take the evening off. Eh, and also, most of you have just been hanging around the estate today, and I have to ask you not to leave the premises, because once outside the charmed area you’re very much visible to whoever might be watching.”

“I saw two blokes leave the area this morning,” commented the one named Gawaine Nycthorpe. “Two of those... Well, two of the redheads.”

“Bill and Fred left after breakfast this morning, yes,” confirmed Potter, “I allowed them to follow a lead Fred had told me about.”

“What lead?” demanded Zacharias Smith.

“Well, before Fred, Mr. Weasley and Ron met up with the other refugees, they apparently met with a rather hostile group of witches and wizards just outside of Nairn. Of course at the time they were terrified and helpless, so they couldn’t do anything but flee.”

“You think the group are other refugees?” asked Tonks.

“Well, Fred did,” said Potter.

“It seemed likely,” said Mr Weasley then. “They were hiding in what seemed to be an abandoned farm; we’d gone there ourselves to hide, but they chased us off pretty quickly. The place was well protected, but I think with Bill’s help Fred might find his way back in there. Perhaps they’ll be able to talk to them.”

“We need all the help we can get,” said Potter, as though explaining. “I had really expected Fred and Bill back by now, though –”

At that moment he didn’t get to finish his sentence; the sound of feet pounding against the heavy floor reached the Rebels’ ears just as Bill himself stormed into the dining hall.

“Severus,” he said, panting slightly. “We need you to lift the Fidelius charm for the ones waiting outside.”

Severus immediately got to his feet, though suspicious. “Who are they?” he demanded. Everyone’s attention was on Bill.

“Messengers,” he explained. “From the refugees in the farm.”

“You mean you made contact?” asked Mr. Weasley.

Bill nodded excitedly.

“You’d better come and let them in quickly, Severus,” he said. “They’re not very patient people. But they’re willing to listen, and – and they’re definitely a different sort of refugees than us. They’re tough; they’re like... like Muggle guerrilla.”

“How many are they?” asked Lupin.

“Two messengers,” replied Bill; he suddenly became very grave. “But in the farm... They’ve grown since we last were there.” A pause.

“They’ve grown to be at least a hundred.”


---

A/N: Thanks so much to JessiokaFroka for beta work, feedbacks and general encouragement! And once again thanks to curly for noticing my stupid mistake... :)

Like I said - better stuff coming in next chapter; I\'m having quite a lot of fun with these messengers and the new resistance group, and in addition to that I\'m planning a bit of action between - well, we all know who, don\'t we... (Don\'t hold me too tightly to it, though!)

As always, thank you so much for your lovely reviews! Keep it coming, my darlings! I\'d like to add a special thanks to Lunelwe, whose wonderful review made my day, and nothing works better than that when in need of inspiration! :)


Grill