Hunger

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. I just play around with JKR's characters. *wink*

Come on, my star is fading
And I swerve out of control
If i, if I’d only waited
I’d not be stuck here in this hole
Come here my star is fading
And I swerve out of control
And I swear I waited and waited
I’ve got to get out of this hole

But time is on your side
Its on your side now
Not pushing you down and all around
It’s no cause for concern

Come on, oh my star is fading
And I see no chance of release
And I know I’m dead on the surface
But I am screaming underneath

And time is on your side
Its on your side now
Not pushing you down
And all around, no
It’s no cause for concern

Stuck on the end of this ball and chain
And I’m on my way back down again
Stood on a bridge, tied to the noose
Sick to the stomach
You can say what you mean
But it won’t change a thing
I’m sick of the secrets
Stood on the edge, tied to a noose
You came along and you cut me loose

Hermione Granger would never have dreamed she would not be returning to Hogwarts, the certainty of Head Girl ship and a glorious academic future. However, it had also never occurred to her to abandon her friends for her own selfish reasons. The irony of the situation was not lost on her either, as she wept over her trunk.
'Got to get under control,' she muttered, wiping her eyes with her Gryffindor scarf and then tossing that into the trunk too.

Bill and Fleur's wedding was the next day, and after that she, Harry and Ron would go either to Number 12 Grimmauld Place, or Godric's Hollow, where the happiest days of Harry's life had been abruptly brought to an end by Voldemort. She could only hope desperately that the sacrifice of Harry's parents - and everyone else who had stood in Voldemort's way - wasn't in vain.

What was it Dumbledore had said after Cedric's death? Hermione strained to remember, biting her lip, and eventually the words wrote themselves across her consciousness - ' ... remember when the time comes to choose between what is right and what is easy, remember Cedric Diggory ... ' Hermione would never choose what was easy, she knew she'd fight with every particle of her body and mind, until, if need be, she died.

***

When Harry Apparted into the bushes outside her house - closely followed by Ron - it was all Hermione could do to sprint down into the garden and hug them both so tightly they became one warm tangle of arms and legs. This was how it should be, how it was supposed to be. There wasn't any other way.

They looked at each other awkwardly, before retrieving Hermione's trunk from her room. Harry sifted through what she'd packed, a frown scribbling across his forehead. 'What?' asked Hermione.
'You can't take all of this,' he said.
'Why not? It's important to me,' she replied, making to shut the trunk. Harry's hand stayed hers.
'We're going to be on the run for months, Hermione, and your photo album isn't going to be much use, is it?'
'I want to take it.'
'You can't.'
'I will.'
'Hermione, listen to me ...'
'I'm taking that photo album, Harry!' said Hermione shrilly.
'No!' shouted Harry. 'I'm not taking anything personal!'
'That's you!' Hermione screamed back, her voice breaking with the force of her words.
Harry opened his mouth as if to say something, but Ron, who'd remained silent the entire time, shook his head. Hermione's face drained of all colour and she put a hand to her mouth, eyes wide and horrified.
'Sorry,' she squeaked. 'I'm so sorry.'

'It's okay, Hermione, it'll be okay,' said Ron soothingly, offering his arms for a hug. Hermione paused for a millisecond, and then fell gratefully into his embrace, so surprised her anger turned to sadness and tears splashed down her cheeks.


***

Sunlight bleached the colour from the wedding, and Hermione had to squint to make out Fleur's face amid the curtain of her incandescent hair. Bill's face was marginally better than it had been when she'd seen him last, though it had finally become apparent he'd carry deep scars forever. Mrs. Weasley sobbed loudly beside Hermione, and Ginny - on Mrs. Weasley's other side - patted her mother's arm tentatively. Now, more than ever, Mrs. Weasley was prone to emotional outbursts and Hermione had to assume this was just another. She wondered what toll this war would take on everyone involved, and then frowned. She shouldn't be having such morbid thoughts during a wedding.

She rearranged her face into a smile, and took the proffered arm of Ron's when the dancing began.


***


Later she found herself walking from the rest of the guests with Ron, up onto the hill where they had played Quidditch a year ago during the summer holidays. A warm breeze plucked the hair from her bun, and the curly strands bubbled about her face. Ron looked deadly serious plodding along beside her, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. There was a sheen of sweat across his forehead. She felt the tremor in her body when he brushed against her accidentally, his freckled arm rubbing against her brown one.

An agreement was reached without words, and they sat together in the tussocky grass overlooking Ottery St Catchpole.
'What is it, Ron?' Hermione asked quietly, too tired to hope he'd say what she'd wished he would for as long she could remember.
He reached for a piece of grass, and she realised his large, normally steady hands were shaking. His nervousness was infectious; her heart fluttered like a feeble butterfly in response.

'Hermione ... ' he began, cleared his throat and stopped.
'Yes?' She wasn't brave enough to look at his face - where was her Gryffindor courage now? It had deserted her. She felt betrayed.
She jumped when his big hands scooped hers up. 'Look at me, Hermione. I want you to see ...'

The emotion in his voice twisted something inside her, and she was startled into looking at him. He was pale, blue eyes earnest and darker than usual. When he kissed her it was like every day dream about him she'd ever had coalesced into one beautiful moment. His kiss was firm but tender, and she nearly melted against him, her hands at his shoulders, and then his neck. His shoulder blades moved under her fingers as he bent over, breath fanning against her skin, face buried in her hair. An exalted little shiver ran down her spine, blazing a trail of fire in its wake.

'Love you,' he mumbled against her neck. She could feel the heat from his probably flaming ears, and his chest rise and fall against her arm. She hummed with joy.

'I love you too.'


***


Harry and Ron sat by the fire in the Burrow, talking quietly. Hermione watched their faces warily from the kitchen table. Around them the debris from Fleur and Bill's wedding were scattered; a singing party hat in the odd corner, the crumbling remains of the wedding cake, and bunches of streamers adorning almost every surface. Everyone had long since climbed the stairs to go to bed, their bellies filled with food and happiness. Happiness wasn't assured anymore; Hermione realised, and knew this day would be the only bright star in an ocean of darkness and fear. She clung desperately to the memory of the sunny afternoon between Ron and her, knowing it would be the only thing that could sustain her in the days to come.

Hermione picked at her own cake, the icing too sweet and thick on her tongue. She was more interested in hearing what Harry and Ron were talking about, and why they kept giving her not-so-covert glances. The silence between them was louder than she could bear. 'What are you two talking about?'

'The horcruxes,' replied Harry wearily, rubbing a hand through his already rumpled hair.
Hermione felt a barb of hurt sting her. Why wasn't she being included?
'Do you know where to look yet?'
Harry shook his head. 'I know Godric's Hollow would be the best place to start, though. Something feels good about it.'
Ron gave Hermione the sketch of a smile over Harry's head. Hermione returned it.
'But we need to expand the Order and find a way to spy on the Death Eaters,' continued Harry.
Ron nodded in agreement. Hermione wasn't so sure.
'We could so easily be spied upon ourselves, you know,' said Hermione, thinking of the betrayal of Professor Snape.
Harry's expression darkened, obviously remembering that too. 'But I have the perfect solution. To everything.'
Hermione wished she had Harry's optimism. 'What?' she asked, humouring him.

Ron rubbed his face in his hands, wiping the tiredness from his eyes. Harry looked sickly pale, but focused. 'Draco Malfoy,' he said simply.

Hermione looked questioningly at Ron, who confirmed it was actually something they were thinking about with a nod.
'Draco Malfoy isn't high enough in the Death Eater hierarchy to be of any use. He’d still be in disgrace for what happened at Hogwarts,' said Hermione dismissively, looking from one face to another. A dark bubble of panic burst inside her when Harry and Ron continued to look excited.
'His father's still in Azkaban,' Harry reminded her. 'Voldemort'll need all the Malfoys he can get.'
'He's only seventeen,' Hermione countered, pushing her cake angrily away. A trail of cake crumbs scattered in its wake.

'We're only seventeen,' said Harry, irritation simmering in his dark eyes. 'Age doesn't matter anymore, Hermione. Malfoy was a Death Eater when he started school, and he was only sixteen. Voldemort will take as many followers as he can, and I ... I will too.'

Hermione rested her head in her arms, knowing this time there was nothing she could do or say to change Harry's mind. 'What do you suppose we do?' she asked, voice muffled.

'We need to get close to him, gain his trust and show him our cause is the right one. I remember the expression on his face when he was supposed to kill Dumbledore ... he was afraid. He's no more a murderer than I am, Hermione. He can be good. He has to be,' said Harry desperately, his voice tapering off.

Hermione fought to urge to shake her head, to scream, to shout. She wanted to let words - no fucking way, I'm scared, can't you be? pour from her mouth like hailstones, bring Harry to his senses and to wake Ron from where he sat, taking in all Harry said without protest.
'Malfoy is not good,' said Hermione. 'Dumbledore gave him his chance; he didn't take it.'
'He would have been killed if he'd gone with Dumbledore that night, but I’m sure that he's thought about the proposition since.'

Hermione sucked in lungfuls of air, biting her lip, willing herself not to lose her temper. 'How are we going to gain his trust? I'm sure he'll just hang on every word we say, knowing how highly he thinks of us,' she said sarcastically.
'Polyjuice,' burst out Harry, looking triumphant.
'The Polyjuice potion?' asked Hermione, incredulous.
Ron nodded. 'Yeah.'
'In case either of you haven't remembered, the Polyjuice potion only lasts one hour. Anyone in disguise would have to carry it around with them all the time.'
'Not if you changed it and made it last longer,' said Harry.
'You can't just play around with potions, Harry. Weren't you listening in Potions classes at all, ever?'
Harry waved his hand impatiently. 'We'll get back to it.'
Hermione turned to Ron. 'Ron, are you listening to this? Do you have any idea how foolhardy this is?'
Ron shrugged. 'Harry's idea is all we've got.'

Hermione huffed loudly, her insides churning. Both boys were looking at her expectantly, no doubt waiting for her to add something.
'Who will we impersonate?' she asked.
'Pansy?' offered Ron.
Hermione shook her head. 'We need someone close to him ... someone he cares about.'
'Malfoy doesn't care about anyone,' said Harry, 'We've hit a dead end there.'
Ron grinned over Hermione's head at Harry. Hermione rolled her eyes.
'Malfoy's mother,' she offered suddenly.
'What?'
‘His mother is the only person he cares about – you’ve heard him lose his temper time and time again when you rubbish her. Family is the only thing he clings to.’
‘How would you be able to pull it off?’ asked Ron in awe.
Against her better judgment, Hermione beckoned Harry and Ron forward. They leaned in conspiratorially and she began to speak.


tbc…….


Lyrics are from Coldplay's Amsterdam. Please review and let me know what you think should change (or stay *wink*). :)