She forced her question out.
"He's dying. Isn't he?"
Chapter End Notes
Illustrations by Avendell, follow her on tumblr and instagram.
Voldemort by wvx_pic.
A combination of hunting clothes and combat gear by saharok_illustration.
"You've disappointed me, High Reeve," by saharok_illustration.
Chapter 17
Hermione was on the third floor in Grimmauld Place. The hallway was quiet and dimly lit; it was either late in the evening or early hours of the morning. As she passed one of the smaller rooms she caught sight of a shock of red hair bent over a table of maps. She paused and tapped lightly on the door.
"Hey Mione," Ron said distractedly as he moved pieces across the maps and then scratched his head absentmindedly with the tip of his wand. His expression was tense.
"Got a minute?" she asked.
"Sure." He stuffed his wand into his back pocket and looked up at her. "Just reviewing what's been happening since I left. Lot of raids while we were away; you must have been busy."
He was giving her a penetrating look. Hermione dropped her eyes.
"I'm sure you see the strategy," she said quietly.
"Kingsley's using the horcruxes to keep Harry off the field," he said.
Hermione gave a short nod. "You understand why, don't you?"
Ron's expression hardened further as he shrugged and nodded.
"No good risking him in a skirmish when we need him for the final blow. Yeah. I get it. That doesn't mean I like it. And some of these—," he pulled a few scrolls over and glanced over them. "They're pretty much suicide missions. I hadn't realized how safe Kingsley has been playing it because of Harry. Seeing what he'll do when we're gone for a few weeks—"
He broke off as he stared angrily down at the reports. "What exactly were the casualty rates while we were gone?"
Hermione opened her mouth to answer and he cut her off.
"I don't need you to tell me. I can see the numbers right here. Fucking — fucking bloody unbelievable. If Kingsley were here I'd punch him."
His face was growing scarlet with rage.
"Ron, we can't afford to play it safe anymore," Hermione said her stomach knotting itself as she thought about how many people's eyes she'd drawn shut during the past several weeks and the new hospice safe house she'd helped Bill ward. "I don't think you realise how depleted our resources are. How many years do you think Harry's vault can feed an army? The hospital ward is running on fumes. Europe is getting locked under Tom's control. The only option we have left is to take risks. And we can't risk Harry."
Ron was silent. Hermione could see the muscles of his jaw working as he kept clenching and releasing it.
"We need to find the horcruxes," he finally said. Hermione let out a low, deep breath that she'd been anxiously holding and nodded.
"We do," she said. "Tom and Harry are the linchpins. Ideologically the Death Eaters are too diverse. It's Tom's power that keeps the army cohesive. If we can kill him, permanently, there should be enough infighting to give the Resistance the upper hand."
"I guess that's the one upside to Tom's delusions of immortality: he isn't bothering to groom a successor," Ron said woodenly as he looked over another mission report. Hermione could see her signature on the bottom; verifying the injured, calculating the losses in neat, impersonal numbers. "Although I don't doubt the Malfoys will think they're first in line now that Bellatrix is dead. Fucking psychopaths."
"You need to convince Harry that the horcruxes are the first priority," she said, staring at Ron intently. "Especially now, after Ginny. I'm worried he just wants to ignore them."
Ron expression grew strained.
"Yeah," he said quietly.
Hermione hesitantly drew closer.
"Ron, I hope what I said at the meeting last night didn't make you feel like it was your fault. You saved Ginny. I didn't think it would be appropriate to withhold the information but I didn't mean to hurt you by disclosing it."
"It's fine," he said, expression stiff. "You made the right call."
"I'm sorry—"
"Don't. I don't really want to talk about it," he said in a shaking voice that brooked no argument.
Hermione's eyes darted across his face, recognizing the tension around his eyes, the scarlet tipping his ears while his face grew so pale his freckles stood out like drops of blood across his face.
If she pushed he'd explode.
Hermione felt her heart sink.
"Right. Well, I'll leave you to review," she said turning to leave.
Hermione regained consciousness and dazedly found someone leaning over her, tilting her head back. The right side of her face and body were rigid. She couldn't move her fingers and her tongue hurt as though it had been bitten repeatedly.
She jerked away from the hands upon her and the person, a man, stopped touching her. He stepped back eying her carefully. She stared at him in confusion. He was pale and blond and his face, which had seemed expressive when she'd first opened her eyes, was carefully blank.
"You had a seizure," he said in a calm voice. "Apparently fertility potions and legilimency don't mix."
He glanced down at a wand in his hand. "Can you speak? You were screaming for several minutes."
Hermione fought to swallow. Her throat felt raw, as though several minutes were a gross understatement. She tried to open her mouth and found that the muscles in the right side of her jaw were so tight she could barely part her teeth.
She felt exhausted. She felt as though she'd been electrocuted; her muscles and tendons felt as though they'd been pulled taut until they'd been about to snap. When she tried to breathe there was a low, gasping sound that emerged from the back of her throat.
She tried to remember what had happened. She tried to sit up, but her body was uncooperative. She burst into tears.
"Who are you?" she slurred through her teeth when she finally stopped sobbing. She stared up at the man standing beside her.
A myriad of emotions suddenly flickered across his face. He opened his mouth, then shut it firmly and hesitated.
"I'm in charge of your care," he finally said, his expression blank once more. He pulled a small bottle seemingly out of nowhere. "You should take this. You'll probably be able to remember what happened when you wake next."
Hermione hesitated and then nodded in acquiescence. He slid a hand under her neck at the base of her skull and helped tilt her rigid body up so she could swallow it. As soon as she drank it, her exhaustion took hold of her fully, and she felt herself drifting off.
"Do I know you?" she asked as her eyes slid closed.
"I suppose you do."
When Hermione woke again, the right side of her body felt faintly sore and her tongue had the subtle sensation of a healing charm across the surface of it.
She cast her mind back, trying to remember what had happened.