Be Careful in the Dark

Chapter 32: Tangled Webs

A/N The next chapter might take me a bit to post, so I hope you enjoy this one! And I want to thank everyone for their comments. It is definitely motivating!

As Hermione swallowed her first cup of tea of the morning, there was a sharp knock on the front door. Hermione stood, walked over and tapped her wand on her door; it shimmered and became transparent, at least from her side. Harry was standing there, in jeans, t-shirt, and a jacket, hands tucked into his pockets. Part of Hermione relaxed… Harry was on the approved list of people who knew where her apartment was. Another part of coiled tensely; she was due to meet with Dumbledore and Harry to “out” Shadow this afternoon. Why was Harry here?

She opened the door carefully and then stepped out of the way to let Harry enter.

“Do you want a cup of tea?” Hermione asked as he walked in. He shot her a half-smile and a nod. Harry brought with him the smell of earl morning spring air. May, as if to make up for the terrible rains of the past two months, was shaping up into a lovely spring.

She busied herself making tea while Harry settled himself in a chair, coming as near to lounging as was possible at her tiny kitchen table.

As she set another cup of on the table, she asked Harry, with one eyebrow and asked, “any particular reason you’re here so early?”

Harry nodded. He took a sip of tea and pulled a piece of parchment out of one his pockets. He set it on the table, where it reflected the early morning sun, and said, “I have something I need you to do. It’s going to be unpleasant, but, if it works, it could really help the Aurors out.”

Hermione blinked at him. “What?” She asked finally.

Harry pulled out a quill, set it on top of the parchment, and slid it two inches closer to her. “I’m going to say something and then I want you to write down every single adjective that comes to mind. Don’t try to make sentences; don’t think about names or complex idea. Describe and nothing more.”

Hermione stared at him, her brain in need of her morning caffeine, and then look at the parchment.

“Pick up the quill, ‘Moine.” Harry said, his voice soft and apologetic.

Hermione picked it up, butterflies flashing in her belly. She swallowed. “Harry, I should finish my tea, if you want me to be sharp.”

He shook his head, “not sharp is better. It’s why I’m here so early. I know what you’re like, before you have your first cuppa.” Then he said, flatly, “write down everything you know about Voldiebutt’s newest follower.”

Hermione’s mind skittered immediately to Reaper, no, no, don’t think his name. Instead she pictured him, as if she were looking at a photograph of him, as if it were disconnected from the world. She got a twinge of a headache, but nothing more. She began to write rapidly.

Male
Tall
Thin

Each word, as she wrote it, vanished slowly, as if soaking into the parchment itself. The headache was starting to flare, sharp and bright between her temples. She kept writing.

Imperious

Her head began to pulse in pain, in time with her heartbeat. When she realized that, her heartbeat sped up and so did the pain.

Powerful

White hair

The headache clawed its way down the back of her neck, until her shoulders were climbing up to her ears.

Pale

Long hair

It was too much. She dropped the pen with shaking fingers and pressed her hands to her face. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

She looked back down at the parchment; the words were gone. Harry handed her a beaker and she swallowed it quickly, shuddering at the potion worked through her and drove some of the pain away.

“You did great.” Harry said, tucking the parchment and quill back into his pockets.

“What can this accomplish? That headache…” Hermione shook her head, feeling knots loosen in her body as the potion continued its work.

“I’m going to give the list to someone who doesn’t know the Reaper.” Harry pulled his teeth back, baring his teeth, in a vicious smile. “Let’s see who they think it is. I’m hoping, because they don’t know what they’re looking at, they won’t get that bloody headache.”

Hermione thought about it for a moment, “that might work.” Then she frowned, “but only if that person has seen whoever Reaper was before…” She trailed off. The headache was roaring through her again. She leaned over, trying not to throw up.

Harry leaned forward and drew his fingers gently over her neck and into the fine hairs at the base of her head. Hermione shivered, the pleasant sensation helping her regain control.

“It’s okay,” Harry said. “Either it works or it doesn’t, but I figured it was worth a shot.”

Hermione nodded, ready to be done talking about that thrice-damned Death Eater.

Harry continued running his fingers over her neck, moving his fingers through her hair. She sighed. He said quietly, “let me make it up to you. Let me take you out for dinner tonight. Or I can bring take out.”

Hermione shook her head and then sat up, saying “I can’t. I’m meeting with Snape tomorrow. I need to do a little prep work tonight so I’m ready.”

Harry chucked, dropping his hands back to his teacup. “Sorry about that.”

“You suggested that to Dumbledore?” Hermione asked, eyebrows raised.

Harry nodded, smirking now.

“Why?” Hermione asked, looking at him with a frown. “I thought you hated him.”

“I don’t trust Snape,” Harry said with a shrug, “but he’s been useful. I think keeping him that way could be valuable.”

Hermione pursed her lips, thinking. Finally she said, “you don’t think I’m going to solve the Unforgivables.”

Harry didn’t hesitate before he shook his head and said, “no.”

Hermione sighed, not really surprised. Lately, she’d been thinking the same thing.

Crookshanks popped through his cat door, magically spelled for his entrance and exit only. He ignored Harry and Hermione, stalking off to the bedroom, to his favorite napping place on top of a bookshelf.

Harry took one look at the cat, shorn of hair to “disguise” him and started to howl in laughter. Hermione started to giggle as well. Crookshanks’ tail twitched in irritation, but he ignored the humans in the way only a cat can.

“What did you do to poor Crookshanks!?” Harry said, when his laughter had subsided to occasional snorts.

“I gave him a disguise.” Hermione said, shrugging one shoulder. She couldn’t exactly tell Harry that Pansy Parkinson had found her because of her cat. Not only was Pansy a secret, but it was embarrassing too.

Harry looked at her, both eyebrows raised, “how did you get him to hold still?”

“I petrified him.” Hermione said.

Harry whooped with laughter again and they could both hear Crookshanks hissing his irritation in the bedroom.

“He’s been mad at me for weeks.” Hermione said, giggles rising up again.

They laughed for another minute or two and then Harry sighed. “Thanks for the cuppa, ‘Mione. I should get going.”

“Let me know, will you? What happens with that.” She patted his jacket, above the pocket where the parchment had gone.

Harry twisted his lips in an almost smile. “Of course.”

Hermione let Harry out, locking the door behind him. She sat back down to finish her tea, wondering if she could really fool one of her best friends this afternoon. Fool him totally and completely. Why had she thought meeting face to face with Harry and Dumbledore was a good idea? She sighed and sipped her tea.

xxx

Hermione sighed and shifted her legs. Harry was staring at her, as he had been staring at her for the past twenty minutes. It was starting to get annoying. Dumbledore was rambling, as he always did when he wanted defuse tension in the room. Hermione looked at her fingernails, studiously picking at a hangnail. Why the older wizard thought that worked anymore was beyond her, but she wasn’t going to correct him.

“What kind of a name is Shadow?” Harry asked suddenly, interrupting Dumbledore. Dumbledore tsked at Harry and Hermione raised her eyes to look at Harry.

“A descriptive one.” Hermione replied tartly.

Harry’s eyebrows snapped together for a moment before they smoothed out again. Hermione lifted her own eyebrows at him. Harry was getting better at hiding his emotions.

“We don’t know who you are. We have no reason to trust you.” The frown had spread over his features again and Hermione smirked a little at him. He glared for a moment and then his face smoothed over again.

“That is true.” She replied.

“What do you want?” Harry asked, finally. His tone and facial expressions were neutral.

“I am already passing along information to Dumbledore and have been for a while. I wanted to make sure that someone else in a position of authority knew of my existence. It is also possible that the information you need and the information Dumbledore wants are not the same thing.” Hermione met Dumbledore’s eyes and smiled.

“That seems unlikely.” Dumbledore replied, looking amused.

Harry, however, looked thoughtful. “So you’re proposing to send me the same information you send Dumbledore?”

Hermione nodded. “I’d also like to come up with a more secure way of passing along information than magicked scrolls. It’s been fine so far but as we get deeper into the war…” Hermione shook her head. “I think we need to be very cautious.”

Harry snorted and then he looked at her. Not the glare he had giving her, but a look so intense it made the hairs on her body stand on end. His eyes examined her from her toes to the top of her head and back again. When he was finished, he met her eyes and a dark, angry leer spread across his face. “Here you are, an attractive woman ready to hand me the information I so desperately need. You even,” he motioned at Dumbledore, “seek to assure me that you are allied with me, and no one else. How convenient.”

Hermione stared at Harry. The bitter rage behind his words startled her and she wondered what else Harry had kept from her. Who was this angry man?

Hermione smiled and said, “sounds like someone’s been burned.” Harry’s face didn’t so much as flicker and so she grinned even bigger. “I can appear as a man, if that would reassure you. Or do you swing that way as well?”

Again, the twist of lips and intensity of his eyes didn’t change at all. Hermione sighed. “You have already trusted my information. You have already taken the risk. What is so different about the situation after you have seen me?”

Harry frowned and Dumbledore cleared his throat. Harry’s blank face at the start of their meeting popped up in her mind and she tsked in annoyance. “You didn’t tell him?” She asked Dumbledore. “You didn’t tell him where you were getting the information? Did you even tell him before this meeting? By the gods, man!”

Dumbledore looked down for a moment, shrugged, and then looked back up. “I did what I thought was best.” He replied.

“I knew Dumbledore had a new spy. I just didn’t know the spy came to him.” Harry said. “And now that I see, something isn’t right about you. What do you get out of this?”

“Well, for starters, I got to stick a knife in Lucius Malfoy’s chest. That was satisfying.” Hermione smirked when she said it. “And I got to save the Boy-Who-Lived, which is no mean feat. And, to top it all off, I get to be on side that’s going to put an end to Snakeface. That man, creature, really irritates the hell out of me.”

Harry stared for a moment and then threw his head back and let out a sharp bark of laughter. When he looked at Shadow again, the look he gave was long and considering.

Dumbledore cleared his through gently and then said, “perhaps now would be a good time to introduce another possible use for Shadow.”

Harry flickered his eyes to Dumbledore and then back to Shadow. “And that would be” he asked, when his eyes were back on Shadow.

“It’s come to my attention that you, Harry, can sometimes be… ahem… hampered… while at work.” Dumbledore took a slow sip of his tea. “Perhaps we could arrange for you… for you and Ms. Granger to appear to be dating. Then, sometimes, Shadow could take her place and the two of you could, well what was needed.” Dumbledore then smiled at each of them several times, taking turns, like a spectator at a tennis match.

Harry has turned his eyes away from Shadow so he can stare at Dumbledore with his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide.

“And have you asked Ms. Granger about this plan?” Shadow asked, smirking.

“I thought I’d check with the two of you before I bothered Ms. Granger.” Dumbledore said with a smile.

“If you like, I’ll speak to Hermione.” Shadow drawled, flicking a look at Harry.

Harry growled and narrowed his eyes. “How do you know her?”

The smirk on Shadow’s face grew a little bit wider. “Oh, Hermione and I go waaay back.”

Harry was instantly up out of his seat, his hand and arm swinging back. Shadow saw the strike coming and rolled backwards, the chair thump-thumping to the ground. Shadow rolled over one shoulder and then into a standing position, wand drawn and a snarl in place.

“Now, now.” Dumbledore said. “Don’t make petrify the both of you.”

“How does Hermione Granger elicit such protective feelings? My god!” Shadow snarled. “The lot of you are totally barmy.”

The tense tableau held for the space of several long, agonizing heartbeats. Then, Shadow slipped the wand into a pocket and added, “and you had better make sure Voldemort never ever finds out how much she means.” Head shaking, Shadow righted the chair and sat back down, ignoring Harry, his glare, and his wand. She asked, in a sharp tone, “Dumbledore, truly, are these your secret, sly manipulations at work? How have you accomplished what you have, with such gauche tactics?”

Dumbledore, smile fading, looked at Hermione with suddenly narrow eyes. “I choose my weapons carefully.”

Hermione laughed, and put her hands to her face. “It seems like keeping secrets from Harry at this stage in the game could be costly.”

Harry sat down and curled his lip. “Don’t concern yourself with me, Shadow.”

Dumbledore looked at Harry, who shifted his gaze to stare back with an empty face. Finally Dumbledore said, “Harry has his secrets. I have mine.”

Hermione sighed.

xxx

Pounding on her front door jerked Hermione awake. She rubbed her eyes blearily and looked around. She was still in her living room, stretched out on her couch, a book resting on her chest. She rubbed her eyes blearily as the banging came again.

She got up slowly, setting the book on the coffee table. Hermione walked over, the pounding on her door now continuous, and tapped the door with her wand. Harrry was standing in front of her door, his eyebrows pulled together and his mouth pressed into a flat, white line.

Hermione opened the door and Harry stormed in.

“Harry, what time is it?” Hermione asked, yawning.

Harry didn’t answer her question. Instead he snapped, “you knew? About this Shadow person and you didn’t say anything?”

She let out a snort. “Harry, I told you I was keeping secrets! You said you could handle it.”

Harry glared at her. “Well, I lied. Just how well do you… know… this Shadow?” As he said the word “know” he leered at her, looking her up and down.

Hermione opened and then closed her mouth. Anger flared, sharp and hot. She clenched her fists for a moment and then said, evenly, “do you know how foolish that question sounds? You have neither the right to be jealous nor disrespectful.”

If anything, Harry looked angrier. His cheeks flamed scarlet and then the blood drained out of them. “We know nothing about this person!” Harry shouted, the veins in his neck standing out like cords. “And you…. And you!” He curled his lip at her.

Hermione was now pissed. She snarled at him, “Harry James Potter, I will smack you if you don’t control yourself!”

Harry closed the distance between them rapidly, backing her up against a wall. He put one hand on either one of his shoulders, but Hermione brushed them away. His face tightened when she did that, but he didn’t try to touch her again. Instead, he stood very close to her, keeping her against the wall without touching her.

It took all of Hermione’s willpower not to fight him. Hermione isn’t tough. Well, she’s tough, she can fight. But Harry’s an Auror. He’s gonna know something is up if Hermione can suddenly fight, like fight fight. Control yourself. Control yourself. It was hard, though, with Harry so near and her anger so close to the surface.

“We don’t know this person.” Harry said, his voice low. “They could be working for Tom or for that cursed Reaper of his. I would have thought you, of all people, would be smarter than to, get involved with someone we cannot trust.”

Hermione started at him for a moment and then started to laugh, a laugh that came all the way up from her belly. She laughed so hard, tears started to leak out of her eyes.

Harry backed away, holding his hands up in front of him, and staring at her with his eyebrows scrunched together.

“That’s your concern Harry? That I’m shagging someone we cannot trust!? Who do you sleep with that you can trust?” Hermione said, wiping tears from her eyes.

Harry raised an eyebrow at her.

Hermione snorted. “Harry, if I’m the only person you’ve slept with, I’ll swallow my wand.”

Harry looked down and then away. He shrugged one shoulder.

“I see, Harry. So I’m the only one who has to be careful? Who doesn’t get a sex life? That’s bollocks and you know it.” Hermione said. Harry still wouldn’t look at her. “You want a butterbeer?”

Harry jerked his head up and then down.

Hermione walked into her kitchen and got them both a cold, frothy butterbeer. She set them both on the table, sitting with Harry for the second time that day.

“Not that I owe you any explanation, but Shadow and I are not involved. We’ve shagged once, because, well, let’s just say when death brushed by you, sex suddenly seems much more important.” She kept her gaze on Harry, letting a silence stretch out, until Harry flicked his eyes up from his beer and Hermione was sure he got her reference to the night he’d shown up on her doorstep. She continued, “I don’t trust Shadow. In fact, outside of you and Ron, I don’t trust anybody. And even then, I watch you, you know, for little facial cues, ways you hold yourself. I don’t assume you’re you until I see some proof.”

Harry looked at her full in the face and then said, in a voice that sounded more like Harry, “You too, huh?”

“How could I not, after what happened with Moody? He was right under our noses Harry and we missed it!” Hermione said, sipping her butterbeer. “Are you going to tell me why you flew off the handle?”

Harry looked at her for a long moment and then said, “no.”

Hermione sighed. “Fine. But you had better figure out how to control yourself or you’re going to get me killed.”

Harry flinched.

Hermione continued ruthlessly, “What if someone followed you? You made enough ruckus outside to wake the dead. If Moldypants realizes that all he has to do to get you to lose control is make a threat against me, you’ve signed my death warrant.”

“No one followed me.” Harry said sharply, his face looking pale.

“Are you sure?” Hermione asked. “Were you really paying attention or were you just doing the minimum so you could get here as fast as possible and yell at me?”

Harry stood up, the chair squeaking against the floor. “I’ll do a full sweep, before I go home.”

Hermione watched him walk to the door. She said, “we’re going to have to sort this out, Harry, whatever this is.” She motioned with her hand, pointing first at him, then at herself and then back again at Harry.

Harry stared at her and then shook his head. “Not today, we don’t. I’m sorry Hermione. You are right.” He choked a little on the last word. “It won’t happen again. Did you know that Dumbledore wants us to date? Or, I mean, look like we’re dating? As cover for Shadow and me?”

“I’ve been informed.” Hermione said, her voice even and calm even though she was still shaking with anger and frustration.

“And you’re okay with that?” Harry asked, hand on the doorknob.

“I see the usefulness of such a ruse.” Hermione said, softly.

Harry looked at her, suddenly look exhausted. He nodded and then left, closing the door quietly behind him.

Hermione put her head in her hands and muttered, “bloody hell.”