Finding The Nail

Harry and Ginny pushed Hermione back into the conference room, and Harry shut the door. “Okay,” he said carefully, very aware that Hermione’s wand was still drawn, “what happened? Why did it look like you were about to practice a few Unforgivables on Lavender?”

“Maybe because I was,” Hermione snapped.

“What did she do, Hermione?” Ginny asked, keeping her voice very level.

“She didn’t do anything but open my eyes,” Hermione answered fiercely. “I mean it, Harry! From now on, Pansy can do potions and Ginny can be your little general! I’ll be spending all my time figuring out how to bring Ron back!”

“Hermione, you know if I could drop everything and just search for a cure for Ron I would,” Harry said softly. “But we have to look at what’s most important-”

“Don’t patronize me!” Hermione shouted. “ Nothing is more important than Ron! If you were any kind of friend you’d realize that!”

“ What?” Harry gaped at Hermione. “If I were-”

“Ron trusted you! You were supposed to be his friend! He threw in with you believing in you, trusting you would protect him! And after everything he’s done for you, you leave him to rot in St. Mungo’s while you plan your selfish little war!”

“Selfish?” Ginny exclaimed loudly. She was flushed with rage. “You’ve got a lot of bloody nerve calling Harry selfish! You won’t even admit how you feel about Ron and you’re tearing down his and Harry’s friendship! You think Harry wants to leave Ron and go out trying to get killed himself? You’re trying to force him to choose between the people he cares for and the battles he has to fight!”

Hermione laughed bitterly. “Cares for? Harry doesn’t care about us! He just wants us to get between him and Voldemort long enough for him to survive! Just like Ron did!”

“I love Ron!” Harry shouted at Hermione, flushing with embarrassment and anger. “He’s my brother, my best mate! I’d take a Killing Curse to save him! I love him, Hermione!”

“You’ve certainly let enough people take a Killing Curse for you,” Hermione answered coldly.

Harry and Ginny were struck dumb. “I never believed I’d ever hear you of all people say something that cruel,” Ginny whispered.

“Well, I’ve finally realized where I fit in this so-called army,” Hermione replied, stamping over to the door and opening it. She steadfastly ignored Harry’s stricken look, and the tears pooling in his eyes. “And I rather fancy seeing my next birthday.” The door swung shut, and Harry and Ginny were alone.

*****

Hermione’s bed was littered with parchment. She felt sleep clutching at her, but she ignored it as she had been for weeks, shook her head to clear her vision and returned to her work.

No one had shown up to challenge Hermione’s declaration to Harry of her intents, so she’d spent the last several hours doing nothing but poring over the notes she, Harry, Hermione and Luna had constructed regarding the Memorius Charm, the charm Lucius Malfoy had struck down Ron with. She was cross-referencing the information they’d gotten from the book Sawol Immortalis with more common knowledge they’d gleaned from more easily obtained sources.

Lunch and supper had both come and gone, but Hermione hadn’t noticed; she was certain she was closing in on what she needed. She had already developed several possible counter-Charms and spells to wake Ron, and it was only fear of harming him further that had kept her from storming into St. Mungo’s and casting every single one. Now she felt she’d neared a crucial convergence of information which would provide the understanding of the Charm she’d been seeking.
It wasn’t helping matters that her vision was being blurred not only by exhaustion but by infuriating, inexplicable tears. Hermione hated crying; she hated being so completely at the mercy of both her body and her emotions. All her intelligence and logic went flying out the window when she was upset, and was almost impossible to get back; often when she started crying she literally couldn’t stop. Not now, she kept repeating to herself silently. Not when I’m so close. Frustratingly, it didn’t seem to help.

At about nine o’clock, a knock on her door startled Hermione out of her study-trance. She looked up in annoyance, but her eyes widened when Luna’s voice called out her name. Good, I can ask her about this translation, she thought, climbing off her bed. This word can’t be right…

She pulled the door open a little more forcefully than she’d intended. “Hello, Hermione,” Luna said with a smile. “I heard you were working on the- um, project again, so I thought you might want this.” He held out a single parchment. “We were wrong on that translation – you know, the one we thought meant ‘across’? Well I found a spot where it was used again to refer to two things in relation to each other, and I finally realized it means ‘together’.”

Hermione glanced over the parchment. “Across and together? How in Merlin’s name did you mix those two up?”

“I think we mixed up notes from two different days,” Luna answered with a shrug. “But this should clear it right up. I ran through our notes in my head and it works everywhere.”

“Fine,” Hermione said shortly. She thrust out her own parchment. “This word has to be wrong. It makes no sense as it is!”

Luna looked over the parchment carefully. “Oh no, this one’s definitely right,” she declared finally. “It’s used in thirty-seven other instances and they all matched.”

There was no point in challenging Luna – the flighty girl had proven to have an unbelievable memory, and there was no questioning her gift at languages. However, Hermione wasn’t in the mood to be generous. “But it doesn’t match here!” she insisted. “It just- the sentence makes sense, but it doesn’t work with anything else I see!”

Luna’s head tilted to one side and she regarded Hermione curiously, apparently oblivious to how Hermione had practically shouted her last sentence. “Are you all right?” she asked eventually.

“Yes, of course I am,” Hermione said sharply, startled by the question. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know; possibly because of the fight you had with Harry and Ginny,” Luna replied calmly, making Hermione furious that they had told anyone. “Or it might be because Ronald is still unconscious. I only asked because you’re crying.”

Hermione’s hand flew to her cheeks, and her fingers came away wet. She hadn’t even realized she’d been crying so much. “I’m fine,” she blurted out quickly, stepping back to close the door. “Goodnight.”

She just heard the beginning of Luna’s “Goodnight” before the door closed completely. Wiping her cheeks on her sleeves, she padded slowly back to her bed, but instead of sitting she stood looking down at the piles of parchment. Usually so neat and precise, Hermione’s entire room had become a chaotic disaster – it was a wonder she could find anything. What’s happened to me? she asked herself. I hardly recognize myself anymore! She swiped angrily at her face again when a tear struck the parchment below her. I haven’t cried like this since-

Hermione’s legs gave out on her, and she sank to her knees. The last time I cried like this was my first year at Hogwarts, right before Ron and Harry saved me from the troll. She had to choke back a grinding sob; “Why?” she whispered thickly, wringing her hands in her skirt. “Why is it only R-Ron who makes me hurt like this?”

As if to prove herself wrong, her thoughts drifted back to her confrontation with Harry and Ginny; guilt flooded her again as she recalled the look on Harry’s face when she cruelly reminded him of the people who had died in front of him, or to save him. I accused Harry of not being Ron’s friend, she lamented. He’s a better friend than I’ve ever been! In his life, Harry had already been through more than anyone should have been able to endure without being driven insane. But he’d gotten through it, scarred but stronger for it, and was trying to lead a group of green teenagers against the most evil man the Wizarding world had known. He fought his battles and received nothing in return but the love of people who knew him best. Over time, those people were slowly but surely taken away from him – Ron was hardly the first. She knew Harry endured his own guilt over Ron; and over Dumbledore, and Sirius, and even his parents. And Hermione had treated him like it all meant nothing – as if what she was feeling could possibly compare to the sacrifices he’d made and the pain he endured.

It took Hermione almost half an hour to stop her tears. Her legs were numb from kneeling, and she felt dried out and raw, and still horribly, horribly guilty. I have to apologize to Harry, she decided, swallowing her dry throat. It must be the lack of sleep, or how- how much I miss Ron…She brushed away a few more tears. I have to tell Harry how sorry I am for what I said.

If he’ll even speak to me.

Hermione gazed at the parchments on her bed blankly, as if she wasn’t sure how they’d gotten there. The parchment she’d been working on right before Luna had shown up was directly in front of her, and as she stared at it her eyes settled on the word across. No, not across, she thought dully. Together.

Hermione’s eyes widened. She read the sentence over. Then she read it again. Each time she substituted the new word where she’d scribbled the old, her heart skipped a beat. With ‘together’ instead of ‘across’…it all fit.

Luna – she said we mixed up the notes from two days, Hermione thought frantically, and began tearing through the parchments on her bed until she found the pages she was looking for. They were dated, but they’d sometimes forgotten to write the date and had gone back to do so later. She quickly snatched up the notes from the day before, and there was the mistake they’d made, right in front of her. One simple word, and all their assumptions had been thrown off. Hermione picked up her master notes, which she’d been studying just before Luna knocked, and added the new information Luna had just uncovered.

And there it was.

I’ve got it, Hermione thought, unable to prevent a new slew of tears from bursting forth. A fierce joy shot through her, and her entire being felt electrified. I know exactly what Lucius Malfoy did.

*****

Hermione’s patience had completely eroded by the time midnight arrived. She’d forced herself to wait until she was certain the entire house was asleep, taking the time to double, triple and quadruple-check every reference and fact. Even so, she was so anxious that by the time she slipped out her door and crept down the hall to the stairs, she was jumping at every flicker of light or odd sound. When she got to the second floor Hermione whispered a quick “Lumos,” since there were no lights in the hall. Following the glow emanating from the tip of her wand, she tiptoed along until she reached the door to the conference room.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when she shut the door behind her. Inside the conference room a magical glow illuminated everything, and Hermione could be certain that no one would hear any noises she made; the room was warded more thickly than anywhere she’d ever been.

Her relief was short-lived, however, and her nerves fired up again when she approached the chest Dumbledore had left to Harry; it was inside the chest that Harry stored all the D.A.’s most secret information. Hermione knew all of it, of course, but she’d never opened the chest herself – Harry had always done it. Touching the chest with the tips of her fingers, Hermione felt yet another wave of guilt hit her. She had already betrayed Harry’s friendship that day with the cruel things she’d said – now she as betraying his trust by stealing the book Sawol Immortalis, which she knew was critical for Harry’s understanding of how to defeat Voldemort. Borrowing, borrowing, Hermione corrected herself sharply. I need it to bring Ron back! I’ll return it safely; Harry will understand I had to take it once Ron’s awake.

Still, Hermione’s hands shook slightly as they raised the ancient book out of its secure compartment. Hermione wasted no time in closing the chest and storing the book in her bag, which she slung over her shoulder. She opened the door just enough to get out, and headed down to the kitchen.

Hermione Flooed from the kitchen to the back room of Fred and George’s shop. From there she steeled herself, and Apparated to St. Mungo’s.