Summersmut Mod (summersmutmod) wrote in hp_summersmut, @ 2007-09-10 10:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | draco malfoy, draco/hermione, hermione granger |
[FIC] Second Chances, Part One: Draco/Hermione
Originally posted here on 5 September 2007
Title: Second Chances
Requestor: drcjsnider
Author/Artist:
Rating: R
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Summary: When a mysterious letter arrives with a plea for help, Hermione finds herself taking chances for the last person she would have ever expected.
Warnings (if any): Excessive plot
Author's Notes: I hope this meets my recipient's expectations and sincerest appologies for the very unbalanced plot:smut ratio. Personally, I blame the rabid plot bunny that held me hostage. Much thanks to my supurb beta, who held my hand through this short story turned novella. I would have given up long ago without her. Any mistakes are mine alone.
Word Count: 27, 000
Second Chances
Part One
The crisp parchment envelope she was turning over and over in her hands had been the source of much consternation over the past three days. The letter within had no signature and no identity was given, and yet the contents were a plea for help. Once more extracting the carefully written note, Hermione pondered precisely what she planed to do about it.
Dear Brains,
I find myself in great distress and am unsure who to turn to. In my uncertainty, I have chosen you to contact, as clearly you are the most intelligent and kindly of my options. I have made a terrible mistake and I don't know what to do to get myself out of the situation I now find myself in. Perhaps I deserve to drink from the potion I have brewed for myself, but my instincts for self preservation will not allow me to give up on finding a way out. I have spent the last several weeks attempting to find a way to safety, a way out of the hell I've managed to land myself in, but come up empty. My LAST and ONLY hope lies in you. Likely, you will not wish to give me the time of day, and to be quite honest, I wouldn't blame you. Still, knowing you to be of a compassionate nature I hope I can blot my name off of at least one of the death warrants made on my head.
There is far too much for me to explain and much of it is too risky to disclose due to the uncertainty of owl post in these troubled times. The possibility of interception is much worse than my chances of going it alone. If you find yourself of a mind to listen to what I might say, please open this parchment and have a quill ready at eleven p.m. on July 13th. You will find there is a charm on this parchment which allows it to become a two-way form of written communication. Please feel free to investigate the charm between the time you receive this and the evening of the 13th. Truthfully, I expect nothing less of you.
My ability to secure my personal safety is close to impossible at this time. However, I shall take great pains to be ready with my half of this parchment at the appointed time. May my questionable luck hold out until that time.
Most Sincerely,
A Desperate Soul
PS ~ Though it is entirely your prerogative, if you do agree to a conversation I would respectfully ask you to leave Brave and Brawn out of it at this time. While I realize my motives in this may seem questionable, it is your intelligence and reasoning which I seek. I fear your compatriots would not listen to all I have to say.
Glancing up at the small alarm clock on her night stand, Hermione noted it was nearly ten-thirty and she still wondered whether she was actually going to pull out her quill and inkpot to respond. The charm had checked out. After digging through several books on the subject of communication charms, not to mention the dozen plus she had poured through on latent curses stored in inanimate objects, she had more or less decided that the letter was likely genuine and reasonably truthful about the parchment's abilities.
Which led to a whole other set of disturbing questions, like who 'A Desperate Soul' was and why whoever it was had chosen her to make contact with. She was scarcely more than a child, not even finished school, and not really in a position to help anyone. Particularly not since she had a rather large commitment to helping Harry track down the scattered pieces of a mad wizard's soul while trying to keep herself and her friends alive in the process. It wasn't like she was searching for outlets for her energy and intelligence at the moment.
But something about the letter had kept her up tonight. She couldn't just let the appointed time pass. Perhaps it was her own insatiable curiosity, or maybe it was the deeply pitched slant to the handwriting and the smudges at the edges of the parchment that spoke of someone who truly sought her assistance as a last way of saving themselves that kept her considering responding. There didn't seem to be any harm to it, really. Both the letter and the envelope had checked out. No hexes, curses or enchantments beyond what, in essence, was a variation on a switching spell.
The steady, quiet ticking of the clock seemed to echo through the room as the hands crept closer to the appointed hour. At five to eleven, she spread the letter out on the night table and set a quill and inkpot at the ready. She was careful not to touch the table in any way while seated on her bed, watching. Even after checking the parchment dozens of times, she was nervous about what might happen.
When the hands of the clock slowly dragged up to the hour, Hermione held her breath.
Nothing.
There was no flash of light, no clap of thunder, no change whatsoever. The clock continued to tick steadily in the dim room. Her body was still taut as a bow string. The anticipation of something, anything, happening wouldn't let her calm down, or even look away. Her tired eyes strained to see the writing she was certain would appear on the blank spot near the bottom of the parchment.
Nothing.
Where time had seemed to race as eleven o'clock approached, it completely reversed as the meeting time slipped by. The second hand seemed to tick irregularly and somehow slower than before. Which was completely ridiculous. Not wanting to blink, for fear of missing something, Hermione stared at the parchment, willing the writing on it to shift and change.
Eleven o'clock became eleven-o-one, became eleven-o-five. Her eyes were tired and burning and she rubbed at them in an attempt to refocus her vision.
When it happened, she nearly missed it. Slightly shaky and unsure letters began to scrawl themselves under the more sure and slanted writing of the letter.
July 13th, 11:08 pm.
The writing lingered on the page for a few seconds then slowly sank into the page. A moment later, the writing returned.
Are you there?
Hermione's heart skipped a beat as she used her wand to lift the quill and direct it shakily towards the suddenly blank parchment. Carefully manipulating the movements with her wand, she scrawled a reply.
Yes. I'm here.
When her words vanished, the slanted script returned.
Are you hurt? Has something happened?
Hermione gave the page a puzzled look as the writing disappeared. Shaking her head, she responded.
No. I'm well enough. Why do you ask?
Your handwriting seems off. Who are you?
I'm 'Brains' as you put it.
Then prove it. What was the major essay question on your last Arithmancy exam?
The corners of her mouth quirked at question her correspondent had chosen to prove her identity. It wasn't truly something only she would know, but she was probably one of the few that would remember. However, that did beg the question ... who was she writing to that would know whether or not she had answered truthfully?
Compare and contrast two ancient Arithmatic schools in the field of spell retention in base materials. If you want to know, I chose to do China and Egypt.
There was a long pause between the time her writing sank into the paper and the next message. When the writing appeared, it seemed a bit shakier than before.
Merlin! It must be you, Brain. It may not be the safest thing where I am, but your answer made me laugh. I don't know if it's just that I'm relieved or if my hilarity is a result of how very like you it is to remember that. I AM glad it's you, though. More than I imagined.
I'm flattered, I think.
She frowned at the paper. Who was this?
Will you tell me what is wrong with your quill hand?
Nothing. I'm not writing with my hand.
Oh, the Scribe charm. Good choice. I could tell you up and down that there isn't anything that would hurt you if you touched the parchment now, but I understand the precaution. I trust you tested for Portkey charms.
Yes, along with all manner of other things. Better to err on the side of caution. Now, are you going to tell me who you are?
There was a long space of time where the page remained blank and the clock ticked noisily in the silent room. The rustle of sheets made an inordinate amount of noise as she shifted positions to more comfortably read the page and scribe her responses.
Yes, I suppose I should, but now that it's come to it, I am reluctant. If I tell you who I am, will you promise not to burn your parchment before reading what I have to tell you? Much as you might want to as a first response. In all honesty, I couldn't blame you if you did, but I've pinned so many hopes on picking your brain for a solution. This is more difficult than I expected.
While reading the sloping words as they wrote themselves on the yellow page in crisp black ink, she was suddenly struck by her answer. Her first reaction was a sudden intake of breath and rapid palpitations of her heart. One corner of her brain did scream at her to incinerate the letter, but her curiosity overruled it and moved her wand to guide the quill once more. Not pausing to reconsider, she guided the quill in bold strokes on the parchment.
Tempting as it may be, I won't burn this letter yet. I am far too curious to see what you have to say for yourself, Draco Malfoy.
The response she received was brief, but oddly satisfying.
You are the Brains. I expected nothing less.
Are you going to prove your identity to me anyway?
The last Arithmancy exam, there was a trick question repeated three times with different wording. 679.22 was the answer.
Even knowing he couldn't see her, she raised an eyebrow at his own identity proof. There were few in her Arithmancy class that would have even caught the repetitious questions, let alone remembered the answer, but Draco Malfoy was certainly one of them.
Impressive.
Thank you.
Now that each of us has established who the other is, I think the time has come for some explanations. Why, precisely, have you contacted me?
I suppose, put simply, I have contacted you to plea for my life.
Hermione gave the paper a sceptical look as the statement faded from the page. It was a rather obvious statement, and highly uninformative.
From your missive, I had gathered something to that effect. Now start explaining.
Due to my inability to fulfill the task the Dark Lord appointed me, I have become persona non grata. I spent all of last year caught up in trying to kill the headmaster, but when it came to the crucial moment, I couldn't do it. I couldn't look into the face of a defenceless man and say the words, let alone summon the malice needed to make them effective. I put down my wand because I couldn't do it. And because I couldn't do it, there are currently several Death Eaters out searching for me. I'm to be brought before the Dark Lord to be punished.
The words faded from the page, though the word punished seemed to linger. An uncomfortable lump settled in her stomach. Hermione knew it was her compassion making its presence known. Possibly, this was her greatest weakness. Of all her emotions, this was the one that most clouded her judgement and could sway her from logic and reason. It clawed away at her insides until she was distracted enough to follow it blindly. In an attempt to centre herself, she closed her eyes and took a long breath, releasing it slowly before bringing her quill to the page once more. She tried hard to keep her words detached and to the point.
I can see that being a problem for you. What, precisely, do believe I can do for you?
I don't know if there is anything that CAN be done for me. I have exhausted any ideas I had. I don't expect you to DO anything, I only hope you might be able to think of some options that don't involve torture, insanity and certain death. I also wish to compensate you for even communicating with me to this far. I do have some information that you and your friends might find useful. It isn't much, but it's all I have.
For a moment she wondered just what sort of information Draco Malfoy might have, and was intrigued. Without realizing it, he could know a great deal things that would be useful to herself, Harry and Ron, but there was the possibility he was stringing her along too. His plea for help might be sincere, she expected Voldemort wouldn't treat failure from his followers lightly, but it would be a huge ideological shift for him to suddenly be aligned with helping the Order.
What kind of options would you like? Information for information is a fair trade, but there are some options that are going to require more of you than that. Perhaps the real question is, where do you stand now? That more than anything determines what can or can't be done to help you.
That isn't a simple question, Brains. I'm not sure I know. I think I finally get that the Dark Lord is more interested in power than ruling people. All of the plans and pontificating I heard were about overthrowing the Ministry and seizing Hogwarts, but there was never much said about what would be done after that was accomplished. My father spent a lot of time manipulating the Ministry, though he never wielded the power directly himself. He was concerned about how to get other people to work in his favour. The Dark Lord isn't like that. I think he wants the power of ruling, but has no interest in the everyday concerns. I never heard anything about what work people would do or how families would live. If Hogwarts is taken, I haven't heard any plans for how the school would be run, or even if the school would be open. I don't think he has any interest in children or in people living lives that don't involve bowing and grovelling to him.
I do know that I don't like how the Ministry is run. I don't agree with many of their rules and policies and I don't think they are very effective at what they do. I don't like the way things are now, but I also don't really think the Dark Lord is particularly interested in making the Wizarding world work better.
Voldemort is a General not a politician. I think I can agree with you on that.
A General?
Someone who is in charge of fighters, like the head of the Auror division.
Yes, that's it. A leader, even an effective one, but not a politician. My father taught me that politics was always a game of give and take. That isn't something the Dark Lord can tolerate.
For several minutes, neither wrote anything. Hermione tried to take in everything Draco had written and make sense of it. What surprised her were some of the astute observations he had made. It was apparent that both sides of the political ideologies were less than thrilled with what the Ministry did and didn't do. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Still, she hadn't quite gotten what she wanted out of her correspondent. After several minutes of reflection she raised the quill again.
I find your observations quite interesting, particularly as I hadn't really expected to find myself in agreement with so many of them. However, I also think you have side stepped my question. Where do you stand? Don't feel the need to lie for the benefit of my assistance. As you likely already knew when you sent me this letter, I will do my best to find some reasonable solution to your problem and I'm unlikely to turn you into the Ministry. It seems our thoughts are rather in agreement on their effectiveness.
Once more the page was blank, and remained blank for an uncomfortable amount of time. For a time, Hermione thought he might have decided this whole idea was a mistake, or perhaps had found his hiding spot compromised and needed to move on. Anxiety vied with compassion for dominance in the leaden ball of emotion roiling in her stomach, but eventually words began to flow onto the parchment again.
You certainly don't mince words, Brain. Actually, that is something I have come to respect about you. You always come out and say what needs saying. I suppose you're right, I did somewhat evade your question, though my answer was a valid one to your question.
I won't lie to you, I don't like Muggles. I don't like what they have made our society become. We hide like criminals, not able to use our magic freely because they might see us. It treats what is our pride like something shameful. I also don't like how much of our culture and tradition is being supplanted by outside influences. Those born outside of the Wizarding world bring with them so much of their culture that it threatens our own. I'm not necessarily sure that I agree with the idea that their magic is less than ours, you out of anyone are evidence to the contrary. However, regardless of ability, Mudggleborns are having a huge impact on our society. Though I don't like hiding from them like a felon on the run, the contact Muggleborns have with the Muggle world poses a huge risk in exposing our own.
You asked for my honesty, and here it is. I think that magical children should grow up in the Wizarding world. If they don't, there needs to be greater restrictions on the contact they have with the Muggles. That is where I stand. Have I answered your question?
Yes, actually I think you have.
And will you try to help me after that much honesty?
You know, this is far and away the longest conversation we have ever had, and not one insult. I realize it doesn't benefit you to insult me, but it is refreshing. I wonder what sorts of discussions we might have had were we not so antagonistic towards each other.
I'll admit to eavesdropping on you and your friends several occasions and needing to hold my tongue to restrain from joining in the debate, much to my dismay.
Perhaps we are more similar than either of us would care to admit. Anyway, the point is moot now. I think I have some ideas on options you might have, though I don't think you are going to find them particularly appealing.
Appealing or not, it is better than none at all.
Well, one option, of course, is to hide. Seeing as you are on the run, it is likely one you have explored quite thoroughly. I don't know where you are, but my recommendation would be to find a place in the Muggle world to hide. I know you find this distasteful, but if you truly wish to disappear, it is likely your best option. My experience has been that neither Voldemort nor the Ministry have given any thought to using Muggle avenues for finding information. Something, I might add, I think is to their detriment, regardless of the opinion they have of Muggles themselves. This oversight would be to your benefit. If you want help in creating a false identity to go underground with, it is something I could help you with.
You could flee the country, though, like Karkaroff, I expect you will find it more difficult to escape your pursuers than simply going to ground as a Muggle.
Another option, though probably the most difficult, is to spill your guts and beg for mercy from Dumbledore's followers. I won't mention the name of the group if you don't already know it. However, feel assured that this is not in anyway affiliated with the Ministry, even if some of its members are. This option is likely the trickiest to manage and the most dangerous to attempt, but it would have one rather large benefit to it.
Just what would that particular benefit be?
If you are prepared to take the risk and work against Voldemort, many members of this group are in a position to help make you a free man when the war is over.
If you win.
If we lose, you'll be worse off than you are now, regardless of ideology. Surely you recognize that.
I do. Trust me, it's not a comforting thought.
Hermione stilled her quill, letting Draco have time to take in what she had written. She wasn't actually certain she could manage option three, but there had been enough in what Draco hadn't written to convince her he might consider it. He hadn't said it outright, but it was apparent he thought Voldemort was not really the shining beacon of hope his supporters thought he was. Draco was disenchanted. Though likely too prideful to admit them before, he recognized that Voldemort had many faults which would not make him a good leader of the Wizarding world. What Draco hadn't come out and said directly was that he really did care that whatever happened it would leave magical society stronger and better able to maintain its place in the world. She didn't necessarily agree with his ideas on what actions would be best to ensure that, but it was enough of a common goal she hoped she could work with it.
Any thoughts on the options?
Well, the second one is something I had already considered and rejected. As you mentioned, it hasn't been particularly effective in the past. I'm not sure I particularly like either of the other options any better, though the first sounds the safest, Merlin help me. I'm not certain I could manage to keep myself concealed for any amount of time, however. I know next to nothing about how Muggles live, nor how to act like one. I don't know how I would manage. Also, I cannot access my vaults, on the run as I am. How it would be financed is beyond me.
Sirius Black was able to make charges to his Gringotts account when he was an escaped fugitive. It may not be the simplest thing, but something could be managed. Besides, part of blending in is having a job.
Hermione couldn't help smirking as the last word soaked into the page. Just the thought of Draco working at a mundane job in the Muggle world was enough to make her giggle. It was ironic how something so pedestrian and Muggle would actually serve as the best way to conceal the aristocratic wizard. Still, it wasn't the answer she had hoped for.
And option three? Is it something you would consider?
I don't think it's the best idea just now. Do you really think you could convince Dumbledore's private army to accept someone who was directly responsible for his death. You have more faith in the forgiving nature of people than I do.
I think Dumbledore would have wanted you to be accepted.
Perhaps, but he isn't the one in charge now, no matter how much I'm beginning to regret that. You and I both know that Brave wouldn't consider the idea for a second.
He's still hurt right now. When he has had time to accept things, he'll come around.
Until then, it isn't a viable option, and one I'm not certain I'm prepared to pursue, even if it was. I'm not a reckless warrior defending the world from the Big Bad, if you hadn't noticed. Besides, beyond stopping the Dark Lord, our goals are not so common.
They aren't as different as you might think, but I accept your feelings on the matter. I suppose then hiding in plain sight in a Muggle area would be best.
Yes, though you are right that I don't particularly like it as my best choice, I am not in a position to be overly choosy. I still have no notion as to how I would go about executing the plan.
I said I would help you, and I will. It will take a few days to make the arrangements, but it shouldn't be too complicated. Your lessons in Muggle living might be though.
Lessons?
Do you really expect me to drop you into the middle of a Muggle area and not give you some instruction on what you need to do to be inconspicuous? You'd be locked up in a mental institution within a week. I'm not that cruel.
For which I am grateful. How soon can this be arranged?
That depends on the nature of the information you have for me.
I had almost forgotten.
No, you thought I had.
Perhaps. I did want to see if you could trust me.
I do, somewhat. I trust that you would not have sought to contact me unless it was truly necessary. Beyond that, I will keep my thoughts on the matter to myself. Now, what is the information you have for me?
I have information on how to find Severus Snape.
Hermione froze when the name appeared. Did she really want this information? Yes and no. There was no doubt that finding him could be valuable, but if Harry found out, it could be very dangerous too. Still, her insatiable curiosity demanded she find out.
Tell me.
When we fled from the school, Snape helped get me to a temporary hiding place. I'm not sure why. He was behaving strangely, and I was surprised he did not bring me with him to face the Dark Lord. I am not in the same place, however, I think it is possible he may know my location, yet he has not come looking for me. I don't know why. For someone who is now the most favoured of the Dark Lord's servants, he is not behaving the way I would expect. Beyond that, it is just an odd feeling I have.
Anyway, regardless of his reasons, he brought me to his home briefly before taking me into hiding. I don't know how often he returns there. It is old and dilapidated, but as one would expect of him it has a rather large library. If nothing else this may be helpful to you. His house is number 42 on a street called Spinner's End. I'm not positive, but I think it is near Manchester. I was only there once, and didn't have a good look around. I hope this is enough information to help you find it, if you wish. I could take you there, but I am desperate, not suicidal. I don't expect I could go there on my own and not get caught.
I wouldn't ask you to. This information could be useful. Thank you.
It's all I have to offer.
Perhaps. Now, I need you to do something to help me make arrangements. Can you get your hands on a Weasley Wizard Wheezes catalogue?
Yes.
Good. You need to place an owl order for as many galleons as you can manage. Given the exchange rate, 1,500 galleons would get you well on your way, but at least 500 will be needed for start up costs. Make it in the name of Michael John Tanner and use your vault number for the funds. Don't worry about the authorization signature. The goblins at Gringotts don't care if you're on the run from the law, so long as the forms are signed and the money is there.
I'll try to find an owl to take it tomorrow. Anything else?
Don't get yourself killed. Do you think you can keep yourself safe for another three days?
I certainly hope so.
2:00 am, July 17th. Be ready with your parchment.
Why so late?
Because Brave is an insomniac. If nothing else, it is sufficiently late that I can beg exhaustion if others are still up and chatting. Is it too late?
No. I just didn't take you for a night owl. I'll be ready.
Stay safe. Make your owl order. I'll take care of the rest.
I will.
And if you are lying to me, I'll feed you to a hippogriff. Goodnight.
Hermione let her quill drop to the night stand and turned away from the letter. There was so much to contemplate, but she was too tired now. Glancing at the clock she noted it was nearly one o'clock. It was too late to deal with anything she had learned tonight, and she had too much to do tomorrow. Exhausted, she tucked her wand under her pillow and closed her eyes, leaving her mind to turn over all she had learned while she slept.
*****
Part Two
When the sun pouring through the east facing window woke her, Hermione groaned. Even if she had done it many times at school, she disliked late nights coupled with early mornings. It made her grumpy. Looking out her window, however, she did feel somewhat cheered by the weather. The running around she had to do today would have been made all the more unpleasant if it had been pouring rain.
Glancing at her night table, she noticed the letter was still laying open, just as she had left it last night. She stared at it for a long moment, still overwhelmed by everything that had been said. Draco Malfoy. She was about to risk her life to help Draco Malfoy. The bright morning light made all that had transpired in the small hours like something from a dream, but the parchment sitting there grounded its reality.
Once again she read through the carefully scribed words of the original letter. Perhaps she should have been able to guess from the start who it was. What would she have done if she had known? Did she trust his plea for help was sincere? What would happen to her if she was wrong?
All these questions were buzzing in her head when something at the very bottom of the page caught her eye.
Thank you
Compassion shoved worry out of its place in her stomach and galvanized her into motion as the words were absorbed back into the page. If she was wrong, she was wrong, but in the mean time there was plenty to be done.
Quickly dressing for the day, Hermione ate a light breakfast, noting her parents had already left for work. After spending the first few days of the summer with Harry and his atrocious relatives, she had chosen to spend some time with her parents before the wedding at the Burrow. The three of them were planning to leave the day after the wedding and this would be the last chance she might ever have to spend with her family. It hadn't been quite like she had imagined, though. Her parents were busy at their clinic and she only saw them in the evenings, and even then they were very busy. Her father was a coach for a children's football league and had plenty of practices and games to attend in the evenings and her mother was taking a course in photography that took her out of the house three nights a week. The only thing really 'homey' about being home was the building itself.
Still, being here would make the task of finding a place for Draco Malfoy to hide if not easier, a bit less conspicuous. She had a few days to do the leg work before her planned arrival at the Burrow and her meeting in three days time was sufficiently late that if it came to it, she could leave her parents' house without them noticing. She wasn't sure if she should feel guilty about the bit of misinformation she had given Draco about her whereabouts, but if he was playing her false at least they would be kept out of it. It was painful to think about all the things that could happen to her parents that they had no ability to protect themselves against. She tried not to dwell on such negative thoughts, but the reality that --while not yet eighteen-- she was the most capable protector of her family was sobering.
Rinsing her plate and putting it in the dishwasher, Hermione returned to her room and prepared her bag for the day. Though smaller than the rucksack she used at school, the bag was still sizable enough to carry around the many items, both magical and mundane, she needed to conceal when she went through non-magical areas. On top was a medium weight cloak. The weather was nice today, but it could turn quickly. Not only that, but the cloak was also a quick way of concealing her very Muggle clothing when she went to places like Diagon Alley. The trip was risky enough without advertizing who you were while you were there.
Under the cloak was a pocket knife she had bought that was similar to the one Harry had destroyed in the Department of Mysteries. She had scoffed at the item at first, but it was a useful tool and untraceable, even if used in Muggle areas. She kept some parchment and a regular ink pen, as well as a few prepackaged food items, just in case, and her charmed galleon from the DA. Before they had parted, she told the boys to check their galleon regularly. It was small, but a brief message could be sent, particularly if the situation was urgent. A few other magical odds and sods were tucked in the bottom along with a paperback copy of 101 Useful Spells: You never know when you'll need them. She had charmed the cover of the book to read The Thatcher Years so she could take it out in Muggle areas and hopefully made it appear dull enough no one would look too closely if she happened to drop it.
With her pack checked, she carefully tucked her wand into the holder she had created for it in her sleeve. It was a hot day to go out in long sleeves, but the arm holder was the best place for her to disguise this most precious item. Carefully locking the doors, Hermione put on her shoes and disapparated directly from the relatively concealed front hallway.
Arriving at the familiar back alley near Grimmauld Place, she quickly surveyed the area for any unusual signs. Beyond a slightly fuller, neglected dumpster, nothing had changed since she last checked this location for a safe apparating spot. Cautiously she moved to the street, concentrating on the location of the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.
Just as it had the first time, Number Twelve sprang up before her eyes, pushing houses eleven and thirteen apart. Just how this charm worked still fascinated her, but she didn't have time to ponder it now. Quickly she ascended the steps and quietly opened the door.
The dingy front hallway stood unchanged, the portrait of Walburga Black thankfully silent behind its curtain. The troll foot umbrella stand still sat in the corner, and Hermione briefly wondered why no one had gotten rid of that disgusting thing. Tiptoeing silently past the sleeping portrait, she made her way towards the more habitable areas of the house, hoping the person she was looking for was here.
At the top of the stairs going down to the kitchen, she saw the warm glow of lights in the kitchen and heard voices from the room below. Her heart hammered at the sound of the distinctly male voice. Severus Snape still knew the secret to this place even if he couldn't reveal it, but she sighed in relief when she heard a comment loud enough for her to identify it as the voice of Professor Lupin. A female voice was laughing merrily, and Hermione grinned. She was here.
Knocking on the wall at the top of the stairs, so as not to startle the occupants of the kitchen, she heard the laughing stop. There was rapid whispering and the sound of chairs scraping across the floor.
Swallowing nervously, Hermione called out, "Hello. Tonks, Professor Lupin, it's Hermione."
Slowly she descended the stairs, not trying to quiet her steps and entered the kitchen. Tonks and Lupin were both on their feet, wands in hand, though not quite at the ready. Their tense shoulders visibly relaxed and the professor gave her a tired smile.
"Hermione, it's good to see you. This is quite the surprise."
She sent him an apologetic look. "Sorry to startle you. I would have knocked normally, but..."
Tonks grinned at her. "Wotcher Hermione. Thanks for not waking up the old bat. She's even worse than before, once she gets going. What brings you here?"
"You actually," she stated, looking at Tonks. "I need some help."
"What kind of help," the witch with pink hair asked, looking curious.
Hermione glanced at Professor Lupin for a moment and shifted awkwardly. Tonks would help her with few questions, but Lupin would want more explanations. Quickly thinking of an excuse to talk to the Auror alone, she blurted, "Woman stuff kind of help."
Colour rose in the werewolf's cheeks and he cleared his throat. "I think I'll just go look for that book we were discussing."
The two women caught each other's eyes for a moment as he quickly left the room and disappeared upstairs. Tonks was grinning widely and Hermione felt a small giggle struggling to escape. With a flick of her wand, Tonks shut the door and Hermione cast a quick Imperturbable charm at it. They were silent a moment longer, then burst into a fit of giggles.
It took moment for their mirth to subside. Tonks asked with a raised brow, "Woman stuff?"
Hermione sobered and added a Muffliato to the room, just in case. The look she gave the older woman was very serious. "Actually, it's 'younger person' stuff, or if you will, 'I don't need too many questions' stuff. He's a wonderful person, but Professor Lupin-"
"-would bombard you with questions like he was still your professor," Tonks astutely observed.
Hermione nodded. "Precisely. I have some information I need to look into, but I know I don't have the expertise to do it. At least not without it being a stupid risk. Harry and Ron don't know about it, actually, no one does and for the time being I'd like to keep it that way."
"You've got me curious. What kind of information is it? It must be something important for you to put up two separate privacy charms when the only other person in the house is probably up on the third floor by now."
"I know where Profess- Severus Snape's house is."
Tonks let out a low whistle. "That is something. Wow. Where did you-"
"-I can't say. What I will tell you is this information comes from what I believe to be a reasonably accurate source... or at least there is a reasonable chance the source would have accurate information of this nature. It's a payment in a way for some help the informant asked for."
"What kind of help?"
Hermione debated for a moment just how much to let Tonks know. She didn't want to be too cryptic, but she didn't want to reveal too much either. She settled on some evasive honesty.
"That depends on whether or not this information checks out. Even if Snape isn't using the place much anymore, there could be valuable things there, books especially. The Headmaster," she took a shaky breath and swallowed heavily before continuing, "the Headmaster had something he wanted Harry, Ron and I to look into. Again, I can't really talk about it, but it is possible Snape has something at his house that could be useful, perhaps even crucial. I can't be certain, but I need to find out."
"You know, curiosity killed the cat, Hermione. There are plenty of people who would love to get their hands on Snape, myself included, but regardless of whose side he ended up on, I know there are certain to be some rather hazardous things there. Are you sure you need something from there?"
"Not one hundred percent certain, it is highly likely something of importance is there. Will you look into this for me?"
The older witch nodded. "Absolutely, if for no other reason than my own desire to find the bastard, but you need to promise me something."
Hermione glanced up apprehensively, "What?"
"If I find this place and it checks out, you and the boys won't go their on your own, even if we catch Snape. I won't ask questions about what you are looking for, but I want to be there to watch your backs."
"Agreed," Hermione answered after only a moments consideration. Harry and Ron might not like what she had just agreed to, but hopefully in their excitement of finding the place, they wouldn't be too irritated with her. Besides, she trusted Tonks not to demand information on things she didn't need to know. Her willingness to help now was proof enough.
"So where is old Snape's hiding hole?" the Auror asked.
"I have a street address, but my informant isn't positive of the city. The house is at forty-two Spinner's End and is probably in or near Manchester or some other industrial area. Apparently the neighbourhood is quite run down. I don't have access to enough maps at home to find it, but I was going to check at the public library to see if I could get something more detailed. I was hoping the Ministry might have something that could help us find out where exactly it is."
Tonks nodded. "We have all kinds of maps and locators available for use in the Auror department. I have to work the early shift tomorrow. I'll try to look into it then, if we aren't too busy with routing out You-Know-Who from old ladies' back gardens. We only get about eighty reports of that each shift. If I can track the place down, I'll check into it when my shift ends. Just a reconnaissance, though. Don't expect anything more detailed than that just yet."
Hermione shook her head. "No, that's fine, and all I need for the time being. I just want to know if we can find the place."
"Do you trust this informant of yours?" Tonks asked, more serious than Hermione had ever seen the woman before.
Her brow furrowed slightly at the question. "For the most part, I think I do. At least, I don't think this person has anything to gain by lying about this. Still, I'm going to reserve judgement until I know more."
Tonks nodded and lifted the Imperturbable charm on the room while Hermione cancelled the Muffliato. As she moved up the stairs, Tonks called out to her, "Be careful."
Hermione grinned and looked back over her shoulder. "Don't worry, I remember. Constant Vigilance!"
***
Leaving Grimmauld Place behind, Hermione's next stop was Diagon Alley. Even though she knew how to get in the back entrance of the twins' shop, the reaction to her arrival at Headquarters was enough to convince her of a more direct approach. Besides, given recent events, it was unlikely the shop itself would be very busy, though by all accounts the owl order sales were booming.
She took her cloak out of her bag and put it on before leaving, annoyed that the Wizarding world still favoured long robes, even when it was hot out. Apparating between two dustbins behind the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione tapped the brick wall with her wand and walked out into the street.
What she saw was nothing like the bustling, magical street she had encountered on her first visit. There were very few people out on the street, most hurrying quickly between the shops and looking nervously over their shoulders, as if Death Eaters were about to make off with them at any moment. Several shop windows, which used to house fantastical displays of all manner of magical items, were boarded up, closed signs hanging from the doors. The businesses that were open didn't look too busy, though judging by the quantity of owl droppings outside the side windows, owl orders had become the preferred method of conducting transactions.
Keeping a close eye on her surroundings, Hermione hurried up the street to ninety-three Diagon Alley. Here the shop window was as flamboyant and ostentatious as ever with a wide array of pranks and toys displaying their capabilities for the world to see. However, the appearance of the shopfront was not completely unaffected. The cluster of eager children pressing their noses up to the window was nowhere to be seen. On the whole, Diagon Alley was a depressing place to visit these days.
Reaching for the door, Hermione pushed her way inside, nearly jumping out of her skin as a loud quacking announced her presence. No one was in the main part of the store when she entered, but within moments a red head poked through a door marked Staff Only: Enter at your own Peril. The freckled face lit up when he saw her and quickly came through the door.
"Hermione! You're the first customer we've had in the flesh today. This is quite unexpected-"
"-But most welcome," the other twin stated as he appeared from the back room.
"Fred," she said, acknowledging the twin standing in the doorway, then nodded to the other, "George, it's good to see you two. It looks a bit deserted on the alley these days. I hope your owl orders are making up for the lack of shoppers on the street."
George sighed and Fred shook his head disparagingly. "Right depressing it is. By our last count, close to a third of the businesses on Diagon are boarded up."
"Not so many on Knockturn, but even there you see fewer vendors on the street. And the people who are out shopping-"
"-are more nervous than mice at a convention of postal owls. We're still getting loads of catalogue orders-"
"-but it's not the same as having people in the shop."
Hermione nodded sadly, noticing that even Fred and George were more deeply effected by recent events than she might have expected. They put on a jovial face, but it was more an act than a state of being. In the years she had known them, she never imagined anything could make them grow up and be serious. Now, it seemed that they had done just that, and it saddened her greatly. "Everyone I saw from the Leaky Cauldron to here looked like there was a Manticore on the loose, the way they dashed from building to building."
"It's been edgy and nervous out there for a good while, but only this bad since we lost Dumbledore," George observed and Fred nodded in agreement.
Fred glanced back over his shoulder into the workroom and started. "I'd love to stay and discuss the depressing state of the world, but my cauldron full of camouflage concoction is about to boil over. Later Hermione."
As his twin disappeared into the back room, George gave her an inquisitive look. "So, what is it that brings you here today? Have a craving for a Canary Creme?"
She shook her head. "No. Unfortunately I'm here for business not recreation. I have a favour to ask."
"Ask away."
"I need you to keep an eye on your owl orders for the next few days. There should be an order coming in under the name Michael John Tanner."
George's eyebrows shot up. "Do you know something about the Tanner order?"
"You've got it already?"
He nodded, "Not half an hour ago. My jaw hit the floor when I saw it."
"Uh-oh. Why?"
"There's no 'uh-oh' about it, but it isn't everyday you get a order in the post that's worth more than five thousand Galleons of merchandise!"
"Five thousand! Good grief, what a show off."
"Hermione, who is this Tanner person?"
She shook her head at him. "I can't tell you that, George. I'd like to. You'd find it highly amusing, but it's safer if you don't know. What you need to know, however, is that I asked Mr. Tanner to place that order as a way of getting funds to me out of a Gringotts account. The order itself was never intended to be filled... and I certainly didn't expect it to be for so much!"
"Pity it wasn't a real order. Some of the things that were on that order have quite a profit margin."
"Out of curiosity, what was on the order?"
George grinned widely shaking his head. "Amongst other things, there were three crates of puking pastilles, Fifteen cases of fake wands, ten cases of Daydream charms, and enough shield cloaks and hats to outfit the whole of Hogsmeade and half of Hogwarts besides. The cloaks especially have a very high return on them. We could charge almost anything we want for them and people are still eager to buy."
Hermione's eyes widened slightly at the items mentioned and she couldn't help a small chuckle. Apparently, Draco was expressing his sentiments on his best option for going into hiding. In truth, she found the list quite amusing.
George snapped her attention back by asking, "What do you need me to do with this order?"
"The authorization for payment goes directly to Gringotts, correct?" she asked, and he nodded. "What I need is for you to go to the bank and withdraw the funds transferred for this order. I need most of it exchanged into Pounds, and the goblins at the exchange counter think that young Muggle-borns are stupid. I always get ripped off when I'm changing money. I'm hoping since you are a business owner you can make more of a stink if they try to cheat you. Keep about three hundred Galleons and exchange the rest. Don't let them give you anything less than three and a half Pounds per Galleon, though I expect the exchange rate has gone up. They are always more eager to get rid of Muggle money than buy it."
He looked slightly overwhelmed, but George recited her request back to her for clarification. "I withdraw the five thousand some Galleons this order is for and separate about three hundred of it to keep as Galleons. You want me to exchange the rest for Muggle Pounds at a rate of no less than three-and-a-half Pounds per Galleon, though I should try to angle for four. Don't let myself get fleeced by the goblins. That right?"
"Yes, that's right. I hope you don't mind, George. I know it's a big imposition," she told him apologetically.
He brushed the comment off. "No worries. As astounded as I was by the order, I was half afraid of trying to actually fill it. It would have cleaned out all of our existing stock for most items and taken nearly two months to make enough of a few things. It's a relief we don't need to scramble to make the order, even if it would have been excellent for business. Wait here, and I'll head down to Gringotts right now. It's not like the shop is busy. I don't think it should take me more than an hour to take care of it."
Hermione told him worriedly, "Be careful coming back. That's an awful lot of money to be carrying, but there's no simple way of transferring it to the Muggle banking system through the goblins."
"Don't worry. I'll apparate back here from the front doors. Let Fred know I'm leaving for a bit."
And with that, George disappeared with a crack.
The hour that followed was one of the most anxious she had experienced for some time. Just the idea of what could happen to George between the exchange counter and the outside door of the bank was enough to make her pace the floor. She briefly explained to Fred that George was running a banking errand for her and he had taken the explanation of George's whereabouts as nothing particularly unusual. Asking her to keep an eye on the store, even if he didn't really expect any customers to show up was likely Fred's way of keeping her from irritating him with her nervous fidgeting, but at least it gave her room to pace.
When George reappeared, he had a fair sized lockbox under one arm and a slightly dazed expression on his face.
"Are you alright George? Was there any trouble at the bank?" Hermione asked, concerned at the look on his face.
Slowly he shook his head. "No ... no ... I'm fine. Wow. I'm not sure I've ever had such service at Gringotts. I think I need to handle large sums of money more often."
"What happened?"
"Well, I knew that five thousand Galleons was going need more than a small pouch to carry, so I asked the desk if they had any larger bags or boxes I could use to transport money out of the vaults. The goblin at the desk sneered at me, but provided me with a rather banged up bucket if I was so inclined. When he saw how much I took out of the business vault, though, he was nothing but accommodating. 'Sir, let me get you a proper secured trunk to carry that. Will you be needing anything else, sir? Let me escort you to the exchange desk, sir,'" George explained, mimicking the gruff voice of a goblin.
"Which proves that if you want to be taken seriously by anyone, you need to have pockets lined with Galleons," Hermione observed tartly.
George shrugged. "Fred and I are successful, but we are still small potatoes to Gringotts. I think, however, the goblins are going to watch our business dealings with them with a more appraising eye. Gold is respect to goblins. Anyway, I think the quantity alone got me a better deal on your exchange. We negotiated on it a bit, but I managed to get you four-point-three-seven Pounds on a Galleon. The lockbox and leather pouch are complimentary."
Taking the box from his hand, he unlocked the lid. She had never seen so much money in one place; it was really quite staggering. It also made her nervous. She needed to get this into a proper account as soon as possible. Snapping the lid tight and locking it again, Hermione gave George a slightly shaking smile. "Thanks George. I really appreciate your help. Please don't mention any of this to the rest. Especially Ron and Harry. The dealings between Mr. Tanner and myself have nothing to do with them, and they would only get distracted by this. Do we have an agreement?"
The twin nodded. "I'll let Fred know. As far as you're concerned, I haven't seen you since last summer. Good luck with whatever you and your business partner are up to. Here. Take a box of these. False order or not, he sounds like he could use a few."
Hermione caught the small box one handed and grinned. A dozen Daydream Charms. By the time she got things sorted, she expected she could use them as much as Draco. Fishing in the hefty leather bag, she took out a fistful of coins and pressed them into George's hand. "For the charms and the trouble. Keep an eye out for any order made out in the same name. I doubt we'll be doing such a transaction again, at least not for a long time, but if something comes, contact me."
"Will do. See you in a few for the wedding," he said, moving towards the back room.
"Goodbye, George," she replied, already sifting things around in her rucksack and making ready to leave.
The lockbox was too large to fit, but that wasn't important since she planned on apparating straight home with it. Tucking the leather bag and the box of Daydream Charms in, she swung the bag over her shoulders and picked up the box with one arm. Holding her wand tightly in her free hand, she apparated home with her valuable acquisitions.
***
Continue to Part Two!