Hermione felt like she might start hyperventilating just thinking about it. Her chest was stuttering and jerking and she kept drawing short, quick breaths.
“But, Hermione,” Angelina laid her hand across Hermione's, “we're winning.”
Hermione froze and blinked slowly as she stared at Angelina in disbelief. She almost laughed but then realised with horror that Angelina was entirely serious. “We're — what?”
“Winning.” Angelina's jaw jut out, and her expression grew defensive. “We are. Think of all the prison raids. We got hundreds of people out since the spring. We've successfully countered hundreds of attacks this year. Staying true to the Light is paying off. The war is favouring us now. Soon the wizarding world will start to realise that. That's how hope works. It takes a spark.”
Hermione felt as though she'd been struck sharply in the head; as though she were mildly concussed and it explained the surreal world she abruptly found herself in. She stared wordlessly at Angelina, who gave Hermione an encouraging smile. “You aren't out there so you probably don't see it. I know things were dark for awhile, but it's always darkest before the dawn, and I'm pretty sure, we're at dawn now.”
Hermione swallowed hard as she struggled against the temptation to scream. She could hear the blood pounding in her ears and a migraine rapidly manifesting.
They weren't winning.
They were surviving. The Resistance was balanced on a knife edge held in place by Draco. Using intelligence Gabrielle Delacour used her body to tear out of Death Eaters. They were using it to maintain the Resistance while the Order struggled vainly to find Horcruxes that could be anywhere in Europe.
They were not winning. They were not anywhere close to winning.
Angelina was staring at her hopefully.
“Yes…” Hermione heard herself to say. “I–I suppose you're right. I'm not out there, so I don't see it. I — didn't realise that we're — winning.”
Angelina nodded and hugged Hermione again. “The problem is that you're too isolated. Pomfrey goes and spends her time with the Hogwarts professors, and Padma has Parvati to keep her in the loop. But you hardly leave this house except to get potion ingredients. I know Harry and Ron aren't around that much, but you have other friends.You need friends. When everything feels lost — that's what's going to carry you through and help you hold on. The rest of us, we talk about this. I know you're really smart, Hermione, but when it's things like Good and Evil you can't expect to get the answer from a book. It's something you have to feel. Like flying — well, I reckon that's a bad example to use with you — but, you have to be able to believe it will catch you. It's all part of the journey, hitting the bottom so you can spring up. Good takes sacrifice. I hope, once the war is over, that you'll be able to see that. That's how Light and Darkness work.”
“Of course.” Hermione said dully, avoiding Angelina's eyes. “I guess I've just been too lost in my own world.”
“It's alright. You don't need to feel bad about it. It can happen to anyone. I was in a pretty dark place after George and Katie both got hurt. It's an easy place to go during a war. But then Harry gave everyone in DA a pep talk. He talked about how Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald. And he talked about the Order during the First Wizarding War, how bad things were. Everyone thought Tom was going to win then; the Ministry was using Unforgivables, but the Order held out. There was death and betrayal but Love and Light always shine brightest in those moments. That's why they always win. We just have to trust in them. Right after Harry said all that, I think it was that same month even, we had our first successful prison raid.”
Hermione stood up sharply. She felt as though she couldn't breathe. She needed — air. Cold. She needed a Calming Draught. “I need something from my supply closet. I'll be back in a few minutes.”
Hermione's made her way dazedly toward her supply closet.
She stumbled down the hall and shoved the door closed behind her as she shakily uncorked a vial and downed a dose of Calming Draught. As the potion took effect, Hermione gave a sharp gasp and burst into tears.
She stood there sobbing for several minutes before leaning across the worktop. She buried her face in her arms and tried to come to terms with the conversation she'd just had.
She hadn't realised — it hadn't even occurred to her how the shift in the war would come across to the Resistance. Of course. Of course, to them nothing had changed. They all thought that by sticking to their convictions about Good and Evil that the war had simply shifted out of inherent inevitability.
They had no idea that Death Eaters were being tortured for information, or that Hermione had sold herself to Draco in order to earn most of it.
Hermione had unwittingly proven their mythos and in the process turned herself into Cassandra giving unheeded warnings at the gates of Troy.
Hermione gave a gasping sob and tried to breathe slowly through her nose as she struggled to think.
She had to move forward with Draco.
Padma was — passable for potion making and healing. Kingsley had looked over all Hermione's notes and somehow recruited a backup casualty healer. She wondered how long he'd been holding that piece back.
She'd compiled all her notes on the counter-curses she'd developed over the years and instructions explaining the curse analysis techniques.
Moody seemed to be growing somewhat frustrated by the lack of progress she was reporting week after week. There had been a shift in both his and Kingsley's recent behavior when she reported to them about Draco, a newfound skepticism, as though she were falling short of expectations.
Now she understood. They needed Draco under control.
Draco's information was still excellent, but he had set the terms from the very beginning. It was a balance of power they were unwilling to trust and eager to shift.
They wanted him collared.
Hermione was stalling.
Flashback 21
Christmas 2002
The Weasleys spent their Christmas at Shell Cottage. When Padma arrived to take over the hospital shift, Hermione changed her clothes and apparated to join them.
She stood outside in the snow for several minutes as she tried to brace herself. The conversation with Angelina had knocked her off-kilter, and she felt as though she were grasping for a sense of control.
She stared at the front door and mentally rehearsed the day. Christmas would be quiet; a far cry from past holidays. Every year everyone was a little quieter and a little more drunk. The year before, Arthur had become overwhelmed by the number of people and had a fit until Molly was forced to leave with him.
Hermione could go through the motions. Smile. Sing carols. Check on Arthur and George. She took a deep breath and opened the door.
“Oi! Hermione's here!” Fred bellowed when she walked in.
Everyone turned and descended on her. They were all in surprisingly high spirits, cheerful and buzzed. A mug of wassail was shoved into her hands before she'd gotten across the room.
Everyone was decked in Christmas jumpers from Molly.
Hermione surreptitiously lined up vials of hangover potion along the top of the mantel.
Bill was sitting in one corner, quiet among the bustle. Fleur was seated on the arm of his chair, running her fingers through his hair.
Harry and Ginny were squished into an armchair, whispering together. Harry and Ron had returned from another horcrux hunt only a few days before.