Chapter 63: Confrontations
Starfox5
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Chapter 63: Confrontations
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, February 4th, 1999
Kreacher focused and snapped Kreacher's fingers, and the large ham floated out of the pantry on to the kitchen counter. Another snap and a knife rose and started to slice the ham while Kreacher prepared the onions. Not many elves could do two things at once, but Kreacher was one of the most experienced elves. And one of the oldest elves. Kreacher could clean a room in half an hour and float two heavy plates at once to the dining room. As befitted the house-elf of the Black Family.
Kreacher was a content elf, these days. That had not always been the case. A mere few years ago, Kreacher had seriously thought about leaving the Black Family. After Mistress Black's death. Actually, as shameful as it was, Kreacher had thought about leaving before Mistress's death. Mistress had become… eccentric. Very eccentric. And loud.
But Kreacher had stayed. As a good house-elf should - elves had a reputation for good service for a reason. And Mistress had needed Kreacher more than ever in Mistress's last years. Mistress had been lonely. The last of the Blacks, other than Master. All others had disgraced themselves. Or left the Black Family through marriage. Or both.
But Kreacher had endured. And had stayed even after Mistress's death. Kept the house in order, as much as Kreacher, as much as any elf could have, with all the dark magic in the house no longer constrained by Mistress. Kreacher had stuck with the contract and stayed.
And Kreacher's loyalty had been rewarded when Master had returned. Master wasn't Master Regulus, but Master was still a Black where it counted - in Master's blood, and in his magic. The last Black, once again - but not for much longer.
For soon, there would be a young master or mistress, born to Mistress Jeanne. Mistress would have been proud, Kreacher thought, that Master had chosen so wisely. Jeanne was a pureblood witch. A powerful witch. A graceful and beautiful witch. And a fertile witch. A wise choice indeed. With a proper pureblood family, albeit a split one, and a fitting wedding.
Yes, the Blacks were strong again. And powerful. And it was an honour to serve them. Kreacher could be proud again, and Kreacher's head would be held high when meeting other elves. Such as Dobby, the elf of the Malfoys.
Kreacher's lips drew back in a sneer. Dobby put on airs as if the Malfoys had been anything but upstarts until Mistress Narcissa married one of them. But soon, Dobby wouldn't do that any more. At all.
Kreacher sniffed at the onions, then nodded and started on the cucumbers while the ham floated back into the pantry. It was time to toast the bread and melt the cheese. Mistress Jeanne would soon want her sandwich, and a good elf anticipated orders.
A minute later, Kreacher frowned when the bell in the kitchen signalled that the fireplace had been used. It was the family bell, but that didn't mean much any more. Not since Master had taken in the half-blood godson.
Kreacher frowned again, then sighed and pulled the bread and cheese away. Kreacher hated to be late, but Kreacher had a duty to check on new arrivals. Kreacher quickly opened the elf-door to the elf-passage.
Kreacher reached the entry hall and peered through the lenses hidden in the wall. The arrival was the half-blood godson. The half-blood godson looked upset, Kreacher noticed. But it wasn't Kreacher's problem unless and until the half-blood godson called for Kreacher's help. Which the half-blood didn't.
Scoffing, Kreacher returned to the kitchen, checking if the owl or the cat had tried to sneak off with food. The animals never seemed to give up, no matter how often Kreacher thwarted them. The half-blood godson was too soft with them.
Mistress wouldn't have liked the half-blood godson. Too squeamish. Too naive. Not Black enough. And not pure enough. But Master loved him. Even though the half-blood godson was infatuated with the mudblood servant. Which would produce more half-bloods. The shame. And the half-blood godson didn't even know about the mudblood servant's talents, nor had the mudblood servant potioned the half-blood godson - Kreacher had checked. At least the other house-guest was a pureblood courting a pureblood witch, as was proper.
And the mudblood servant was useful. The Black fortune had increased greatly thanks to the mudblood servant's efforts. And the fortunes of the Blacks' rivals had diminished greatly. Kreacher grinned, showing many teeth. Soon, Dobby would be working for a ruined family.
Unless the half-blood godson ruined the plan. Kreacher scowled. The half-blood godson didn't know that family came first, as was natural. Laws and politics changed all the time, but blood didn't change. Blood would tell, as Mistress used to tell Kreacher. And as Kreacher had seen. Even the half-blood cousin, from the disgraced cousin, had shown that and told Master, not the Ministry, first about the plot against the family.
Although it turned out to be a plot against the half-blood godson, in the end. Still, the half-blood cousin had tried to do right by the family.
Kreacher finished the sandwiches right when Mistress Jeanne called for Kreacher. Smiling toothily, Kreacher opened the elf-door again, passing through the walls to Mistress Jeanne's room. Kreacher noticed that the half-blood godson was in the Pensieve, but paid no mind - the half-blood godson was allowed there. Master had said so. And a proper house-elf obeyed Master. Or sought a new Master.
But Kreacher wouldn't do that. Not when the Blacks were on the rise again. Richer and more powerful than ever. Kreacher would be the most envied elf in the country!
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, February 4th, 1999
Hermione Granger wasn't concerned. Not really. But she was a little annoyed that Harry apparently took his new case - hunting her! And Sirius, Jeanne and Mr Fletcher! - so seriously that he had gone straight to the Pensieve upon coming home, without even bothering to take a detour to greet her.
Which bothered her more than it should. She bit her lower lip, pushing away the proposed bill to evaluate a relaxation of the flying carpet ban. What memory was he watching, anyway? She had obliviated the Parkinsons, the Sphinx and the elf of any crucial information. And the Memory Charm worked on Sphinxes - she had checked that beforehand, of course. Any other memories Harry might be studying he had studied before - like the broom chase across London.
She grinned, faintly, as she remembered how often he had studied that particular memory. But her suit was padded, altering her body's shape, and even if her protections against his glasses failed, she was wearing a disguise underneath it. So what was he studying? And why wasn't Ron with him?
She knew there weren't any witnesses. None that had seen anything that could finger her, at least. The clerk in the Ministry archives hadn't noticed anything. She hadn't missed any servants at Parkinson Manor. She hadn't been sloppy.
Hermione pressed her lips together. There was no need to worry. But she was worried.
"Are you and Harry having a row?"
Sirius's question made her jerk and whip her head round. He was frowning at her.
"You look like you're about to eat your lower lip," he went on. "So…?"
She sighed, though it sounded almost like a huff. "No, we're not having a row. At least," she added, "I'm not aware of one."
He grinned at that. "Well, what's got you so worried then?"
She refrained from claiming that she wasn't worried; he knew her well enough to instantly see through such a lie. And he was stubborn enough to ignore such a claim even if it were true. Sighing, she admitted: "I can't help worrying about which memories Harry is studying."
"Which memories he cares so much about that he skipped kissing you on coming home?" The dog cocked his head with a teasing grin.
She glared at him, and his grin vanished. He sighed. "Sorry."
She nodded, curtly, in response.
"Well, you could ask him."
She bit her lower lip again. She didn't want to abuse their relationship to spy on Harry. Sometimes it happened anyway - but she hadn't found out anything important from him. Nothing that would have made or broken a heist.
Sirius sighed. She glared at him. But before she could retort, the door to the study was pushed open. It was Harry. And he looked… awful. And angry. And he hadn't knocked, a part of her noted.
"Oh, Harry!" Sirius said with a chuckle - though Hermione thought it sounded a little forced. Maybe more than a little. "We were starting to get worried about you getting lost in the Pensieve."
He didn't answer straight away. Just stared at them. At her. She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong when he took a deep, shuddering breath.
"You are the Night Nargles."
Hermione felt as if she had been kicked in the stomach. He knew. How?
"What?" Sirius said. Was he about to play dumb?
"Don't you dare deny it," Harry spat without looking at Sirius. Without taking his eyes off her. He was angrier than she had ever seen him, she realised. "You are the stray."
She gasped. Despite her training, despite her experience, she couldn't help it. He knew. And he was furious.
"I've never seen you together with the stray cat. But I've seen her - in Knockturn Alley. Twice. And I've seen her fur - in France. And in the Ministry." He hadn't moved from the door. Hadn't come closer.
She gasped again. The Ministry? But she had cleaned up the air ducts. And she hadn't left any trace during her earlier strolls through the Ministry. How?
She hadn't realised that she asked the question out loud until he answered: "A tuft of fur, stuck to a welding seam in the main shaft of the air ducts."
Where her cleaning charm wouldn't have reached. She clenched her teeth and wanted to curse. And to cry. It was all her fault.
"Ah." Sirius nodded. He was even smiling, Hermione realised. "Well done! No wonder you're the Ministry's best Auror!"
Hermione didn't know who wanted to curse Sirius more right now - her or Harry.
Harry Potter glared at his godfather and struggled not to draw his wand. "Do you think this is funny?" he spat through clenched teeth. Not only had they hidden this… this… this unbelievable betrayal from him, they were even being flippant about it!
Sirius sighed, his smile fading. "No, I don't think it is. Sorry." He stood. "I just wanted to…" He shrugged. "Let's talk about this in a more civilised setting. It's not just the three of us who are involved in this, anyway."
"Jeanne," Harry said.
"Of course." Sirius nodded. "Did you tell Ron?"
Harry tensed. "I haven't told him yet." Would Sirius try to obliviate him?
Sirius nodded again, smiling faintly. "Perhaps we should tell him that we decided to have a double date because I don't think we'll be done before dinner, and he wouldn't miss the general tension during the meal."
His godfather was far too calm, Harry thought. Unlike Hermione, who hadn't said more than a few syllables since his accusations and who looked stricken. "Why don't you want to tell him at the same time?"
"This is family business," Sirius replied. "And you didn't tell him either, did you? You came straight to us."
"That wasn't because I want to keep him in the dark!" Harry retorted, glaring at Sirius. He wouldn't do that to his best friend. He was better than that!
"Still, this should be discussed among ourselves first, I think," Sirius said.
"Yes," Hermione agreed.
He glanced at her. She was trying to put up a calm front as well, but she wasn't succeeding - he could tell. Or he thought he could tell. She certainly had completely fooled him for a long time. He ground his teeth. He had to focus. Treat this like a case. A normal case. He couldn't let his emotions rule him. "I'm not lying to him," he pressed out.
"Do you want him involved?" Sirius asked. He sounded honest, but he, too, had fooled Harry. And had made a fool out of him.
And, if he was honest, Harry didn't know if he really wanted Ron involved. But his partner was his best friend. Perhaps his only friend. "He'll want to know what I found out, anyway," he pointed out.
"True," Sirius said. "I'll tell Kreacher to prepare dinner as usual. It's a good thing Moody's still not able to join us at the table. That would have been awkward."
His godfather was far too calm about this. Harry couldn't understand. "Why are you so… so…"
Sirius chuckled, though he sounded rather rueful. "Some Black family dinners would make our upcoming discussion look tame, I'd say."
Harry didn't laugh. Hermione did, but it sounded more like a sob.
Kreacher had prepared a great dinner - roast beef and pommes frites with julienne carrots - but Hermione Granger could only pick at her meal. Her stomach still felt as if it were tying itself into knots and trying to drop to the floor at the same time. She glanced at Harry. His jaw muscles were so tense…
She looked at her plate and pushed the piece of meat she had just cut around a little, then stabbed it and put it in her mouth. She didn't notice when she stopped chewing and swallowed it, nor did she remember the taste. She glanced at Harry again. His lips were pressed together with such force, they formed a pale line.
Sirius and Jeanne were eating, but Sirius was far tenser than he was pretending to be - she could tell since he wasn't joking around. And Jeanne… well, her smile looked frozen.
Ron's voice broke through the silence after five minutes. "So, is anyone going to tell me what happened?"
Hermione drew a sharp breath and put the silverware down. This was it. She tried to steady herself. Focus. She could do this. She was a professional thief. Which was the problem. She swallowed.
"Harry found out that we're the Night Nargles," Sirius said, after recasting a privacy charm.
Ron blinked, looking stunned for a moment, then whipped his head round to stare at Harry. "What?"
"Yes," Harry spat, then glared at Sirius - and then at Hermione. "It's true."
She flinched, then swallowed, raised her head and met his gaze.
Ron looked at everyone in turn, then cleared his throat. "Ah." After a moment, he cleared his throat again. "So… I guess we're not arresting them?"
"That'd be 'trying to arrest'," Sirius replied with a toothy grin, which quickly vanished at Harry's glare. "Sorry."
"We're about to explain the whole affair." Hermione surprised herself by speaking up, then pressed her lips together. She shouldn't cower like a mouse - she hadn't done anything wrong. Well, not without good reasons. Well-meaning reasons, at least.
"Over dinner?" Ron said.
"That was the plan," Hermione replied. Talking to him was far easier than talking to Harry. Or looking at Harry. "Sirius's, to be exact," she added. "But it seems it isn't working as well as he thought it would."
"Pity. The beef is great," Ron said.
"Let's talk," Harry ground out. "Why did you lie to me?"
Hermione took a deep breath. This was the crucial question. If she botched this...
"It was for your own good," Sirius said.
Hermione closed her eyes, clenched her teeth and almost hissed in frustration.
"My own good?" Harry Potter couldn't believe his ears. He scoffed, shaking his head. "My own good?" How could Sirius claim such nonsense? "You fooled me for my own good?"
"You wanted to become an Auror to clean up the Ministry. If we told you that we were planning to rob Malfoy and his cronies of their gold, you would have had to abandon that dream," Sirius said.
Harry blinked. "What?"
"After Voldemort's death," Hermione cut in, "when you told us of your dream of becoming an Auror, Sirius thought that if we told you, you would be forced to join us."
He looked at her. She met his eyes, though he caught her flinching. "You thought I would become a thief?" Were they mad? He was an Auror! Not a criminal!
"Would you have become an Auror, knowing that we would be robbing Malfoy's allies and so you'd be protecting us?" she asked.
He scoffed again. "I would have prevented you from starting this… this…" He shook his head. "This crime spree!" This madness!
"Why did you do it?" Ron suddenly asked. "The Blacks are the richest family in Britain. You don't need the gold."
That was a good question. Harry should have asked that first. He looked at Sirius, then Hermione and Jeanne. His godfather was still far too calm, as if this wasn't serious. Hermione put up a good front, but she was biting her lower lip whenever she thought he wasn't looking. And Jeanne was frowning. At Harry.
"We want to reform Britain. Root out the corruption. Get rid of Malfoy and his ilk," Sirius said.
"By becoming criminals?" Harry laughed, once, out of sheer disbelief.
Sirius frowned at him. "As long as Malfoy has his gold, he's untouchable. You should know how bad things are in the Ministry - how many he has bought. It costs a lot just to counter his plots. The Wizengamot will never find him guilty."
"And ruining him is the only way to make him pay for what he did to my family and me," Hermione said. "He and his friends tried to ruin me, and now they are ruined. Only Malfoy is left." She scowled, baring her teeth.
"You can't get justice by committing crimes!" Harry shot back. "That's wrong!" It went against everything the law stood for. It was mere revenge.
"Dumbledore disagreed," Sirius replied.
"What?" Harry blurted out, then pressed his lips together. As much as he avoided thinking about it, Dumbledore had taught him blood magic - illegal in Britain, and most countries - to defeat Voldemort. But only because there had been no other way.
"He had me trained as a thief since I was expelled," Hermione said.
"What?" Harry gaped at her.
She frowned at him. "He needed thieves for the fight against Voldemort."
"And spies," Jeanne added.
"Did you think we just decided to start robbing manors after Voldemort's defeat?" Hermione scoffed. "I trained for years for this!"
"So this was what you were doing for Dumbledore," Ron said.
"Stealing books, gathering information, tracking Death Eaters," Hermione said, shrugging. "Whatever he needed stolen without anyone knowing, we did."
"She almost died a few times," Sirius added.
What? Harry whipped his head around and stared at her, but she was glaring at his godfather. "Only once."
"Twice at least - you were almost caught by Voldemort himself," Sirius retorted.
What? Harry blinked. She had robbed the Dark Lord himself? Was she mad?
"Merlin's arse!" Ron exclaimed. "What happened?"
Hermione huffed. "He only saw a cat; I was perfectly safe."
"A cat?" Ron asked.
Before Harry could explain, Hermione changed into her cat form and jumped on the table.
"Blimey!" Ron gasped. "Wait a minute… I saw you before!"
"She's been spying on us on a few occasions," Harry said, clenching his teeth. Played the harmless cat to fool him.
Hermione returned to her seat and changed back. "Not like that!" she protested. "I was merely watching out for you!"
"Sure you were!" Harry spat. "You spied on us the whole time!" Even in their bed!
She jerked back, stunned for a moment. "I didn't want to!" She sniffled, and her eyes seemed to glitter a little in the light. "I wanted to keep my distance to avoid exactly that!"
"Well, you failed," Harry retorted with narrowed eyes.
"So it wasn't Paul's fault!" Ron blurted out.
"What?" "What?"
Harry glanced at Hermione, momentarily taken aback by her asking the same question at the same time.
"She wasn't skittish because of what Paul did, but because of you," Ron explained.
"Ah." Harry started to nod, then caught himself. That didn't matter right now.
"I didn't want to enter a relationship with a secret between us," Hermione said, then wiped her eyes. "That ruined my relationship with Paul. I couldn't tell him about magic." She glared at Sirius. "And I couldn't tell you about our robberies, even though I wanted to."
Harry scoffed at that claim. Of course she could have told him! And she had entered a relationship with him! And deceived him the whole time! Played him for a fool!
"It's true," Sirius said. "I forbade her to tell you."
"It wasn't just my secret to tell," Hermione added, though she wasn't looking at Harry as she spoke.
That made some sense, Harry had to admit. Sirius and Jeanne's crimes would have been revealed as well. And… "Your tutor! He's a thief as well isn't he?" If she had been training to become a thief since her expulsion, then that was the only explanation. Unless there were books on robbing people.
"Yes." Now she was looking at him.
"You still should have told me," he said. She should have. "But you used me! You used my training to escape from us on your heists!"
What? Hermione Granger snarled, baring her teeth. That wasn't true! "I didn't! Sirius trained me! I had to act as if I were worse at Defence to keep my cover!"
Harry jerked as if struck, then pressed his lips together. "So that was a lie as well."
Hermione winced. She shouldn't have worded it like that. She didn't mean it like that. And she hadn't tried to fool him - well, she had, but fooling him hadn't been her goal, she had had to do it to keep her cover.
"It was almost as amusing as the time you threw her out of the house," Sirius said. "She had to let herself get hit by Stinging Hexes in every session."
Hermione glared at the dog, and Harry scowled with clenched teeth.
Sirius sighed. "Sorry."
"We didn't spy on you - not deliberately," Hermione said. Harry's expression didn't change. "And I didn't want to start a relationship with you because it would have been unfair."
"Yet you did," he said in a flat voice.
Seeing his expression hurt more than his worst hexes. She bit her lower lip, then slowly nodded. "Yes. It happened. I just couldn't keep away from you." She wouldn't apologise for that.
He didn't say anything for a moment, but she saw his jaw muscles move. And he kept glaring at her.
She blinked to clear her eyes and fought not to sob. This was even worse than she had feared.
"Oh, mon Dieu!" Jeanne exclaimed. "She loves you, you idiot! Of course, she couldn't keep away from you!"
"You don't lie like that to someone you love," Harry spat.
Hermione cringed. "I didn't want to!" she protested before Jeanne could call Harry more names.
"Really?" He scoffed. "But you did. You lied to me for years."
That wasn't true. Hermione almost retorted that withholding the truth wasn't the same as lying. But that would have made the situation even worse. Instead, she said: "You didn't tell me what you were doing with Dumbledore either." He flinched at that.
"And you never even asked me about my work for Dumbledore," Sirius added.
Harry bared his teeth. "It's not the same."
Hermione bit her lower lip to keep from demanding to know how it wasn't the same.
Harry glanced at her, then looked away. "And even if it was, you kept lying to me after Voldemort's defeat. All of you."
"Yes, we did," Sirius said. "As I said, I decided that. I didn't want to drag you into this and destroy your dream of becoming an Auror."
"So you made the decision for me?" Harry scoffed.
Sirius grimaced. "Well… I couldn't really ask you if you'd rather become a thief, could I? And whenever I tried to feel you out, you were adamant about enforcing the law."
"That's because you can't fight the criminals by becoming a criminal!" Harry retorted.
"Of course you can!" Sirius shot back. "What did you think we did when fighting Voldemort? "Without us, Dumbledore probably wouldn't have had half the books he needed - those weren't the sort you could buy in a shop."
Harry flinched again, Hermione noticed.
And Sirius went on: "And you know how things work at the Ministry - if we don't ruin Malfoy, we'll never change the system. It's rotten to the core. The worst criminals can have their friends judge them in the Wizengamot. You've complained often enough about this."
"You'd 'ave been fired already if not for Sirius throwing 'is gold round," Jeanne added.
Harry glared at her. "That doesn't mean it was right."
The French witch huffed. "Do you want Malfoy and his minions gone from the Ministry and the Wizengamot, or not?"
"Not like this!" Harry bared his teeth again.
"And that's why I didn't want to tell you," Sirius said. "I knew you wouldn't like it."
"You should have told me!" Harry spat.
"Yes, we should," Sirius said after a moment. "I realise that now. I just wanted the best for you," he added. "I'm sorry."
Harry scoffed again. "And yet, you kept me in the dark. Did you find it funny when I complained about you without knowing you were the Night Nargles?"
Hermione pressed her lips together and clenched her teeth. She didn't want to lie to him, but if she admitted that - sometimes! - it had been funny…
But the lack of answer was enough. Harry shook his head. "I see," he hissed, then stood so abruptly, his chair almost toppled over. For a moment, he stood there, his lips moving without making a sound, then he turned and stormed out of the room.
With a grimace, Ron stood and followed him.
As soon as the door closed, Sirius sighed and seemed to collapse in his chair, covering his face with his hands. Jeanne moved to hug him.
Hermione looked at the door. Part of her wanted to run after Harry. Apologise. She hadn't, yet, she realised with a shock. Part of her wanted to hug Sirius. Comfort him. Thank him for taking the blame. Or trying to take the blame, at least.
In the end, she did neither. She kept sitting, staring at the door.
Harry Potter's Bludgeoning Curse smashed into the stone figure, pulverising part of its shoulder and causing its left arm to fall away as it was bowled over. His next curse - a Reductor Curse - hit it before the arm had stopped rolling on the floor and blew up the figure's torso, sending stone shards and fragments through the room, a dozen of them bouncing off his Shield Charm.
But the limbs and part of the hips were still around - thanks to his glasses, he could see them through the dust cloud his spell had thrown up. Snarling, he cast a few more Bludgeoning Curses, smashing the legs and arms to pieces before blowing up the head with another Reductor Curse.
As he waited for the new dust cloud to settle, he clenched his teeth. He didn't feel any better. He still wanted to smash something. Hurt someone. Do anything to spread the pain he was feeling.
"Whoa!"
Harry whirled around, his wand rising out of reflex. Then he froze and took a short breath. "Ron." His friend must have entered the training room without Harry noticing. Sloppy.
"Mate." Ron seemed unconcerned about Harry's wand pointing at him. He looked at the remains of the stone figure. "Feeling better?"
Harry snorted. "No."
Ron nodded. "Didn't think you would." He flicked his wand and conjured a bench, then sat down.
Harry looked at him. "You gonna watch me vent my anger?"
Ron shrugged. "I figure you need some company, but the last thing you need is someone else pushing you. So I'll simply wait."
Harry laughed, once, then had to struggle not to sob. He shook his head and sat down next to his friend, his wand dangling from his hand, and stared at the rubble. After a moment, he took a deep breath. "Thanks."
"Sure thing, mate."
Harry closed his eyes. "Bloody hell, I still can't believe they did this!" How could they have done this? To him?
"Well, in hindsight, it makes sense," Ron said. Harry jerked his head to glare at him, and his friend went on: "That they robbed the manors, I mean."
"What?" Harry snarled.
Ron held his hands up. "Mate, you know how it works. As long as Malfoy has gold to spend, he won't get convicted no matter what he does. And no matter what we do."
Harry pressed his lips together. "It's still a crime!" A crime spree, even.
"Well, yeah." Ron shrugged. "But if it's the only way to get rid of Malfoy?"
"Ron! We're Aurors - we're supposed to enforce the law! We've sworn an oath!"
"Well, we did - but we also swore to faithfully serve and defend Wizarding Britain." Ron chuckled. "And that kind of doesn't go along with upholding the law in this case, if the law's protecting Malfoy. And you know that if Sirius were arrested, we'd get fired as soon as Malfoy's done celebrating - all of his enemies, gone."
Harry closed his eyes. Not Ron too. Was everyone corrupt?
"And you heard them - Dumbledore had her trained as a thief," Ron went on.
"Yes," Harry spat. That didn't mean it was right.
"And he sent them out to steal stuff."
"If they're telling the truth," Harry replied.
"Do you think they lied?"
They had lied to him before! Harry drew a shuddering breath through clenched teeth. Lied, and laughed at him. He closed his eyes. "No. No, I don't think so." Hermione had looked… He shook his head. She deserved it. And Sirius… He didn't think they had been lying. Not at dinner, at least.
"They should have told you, though," Ron said.
Harry nodded. "Yes," he pressed out, "they should have." They hadn't, though.
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
"They made a fool out of me. Out of us," Harry said.
"They did," Ron agreed.
Harry glanced at him. His friend was far too calm. "Why aren't you angry?"
Ron shrugged. "I am a little, I guess. But on the whole? I've been made fun of my whole life by my brothers - and not because they thought it would be best for me. And the entire school has made fun of Luna for selfish or cruel reasons. I guess this simply doesn't seem so bad in comparison."
Harry hissed through his teeth. Not so bad?
Before he could tell Ron off, though, his friend continued. "I don't know what I'd do if Luna had done this, though," he said.
Harry nodded stiffly. "I trusted her." Well, not with everything. Not with what he had done with Dumbledore. What kind of magic he had learned, and used. Blood magic. Illegal magic, he added, unbidden, before pushing the thought, and the guilt, away. Again. But there were good reasons for not telling her all his secrets. More than ever, after these revelations.
Another moment passed in silence. The remains of one of the figure's legs suddenly crumbled to the ground, sending dust motes up in the air.
"So, what are you gonna do?" Ron asked.
Harry sighed. "I don't know." He didn't want to betray his oath as an Auror. He didn't want to break the law. But he didn't want to see Malfoy rule Britain, either. And to arrest his own family? And Hermione? They were criminals, and they had hurt him, but…
"I don't bloody know."
Hermione Granger managed to stop biting her lower lip before she drew blood, but it was a near thing. As much as it hurt to see Harry like this, she was a professional thief - and she had responsibilities. She glanced at Sirius and Jeanne, who were still holding each other. Yes, someone had to speak up.
"What are we going to do now?"
Sirius didn't open his eyes, but she saw him tense slightly. Jeanne frowned at her, but Hermione ignored that. They had to do something.
After a few seconds, she added: "We need to prepare in case the Aurors come after us."
Sirius shook his head, causing Jeanne to loosen her grip on him. "Harry won't rat us out."
She bit her lower lip again, then hissed in frustration at herself and took a deep breath. She didn't share his optimism. "We hurt him. A lot." She had hurt him. And she had known he'd be hurt. She should have told him!
Sirius sighed. "I know." He leaned back - still with his eyes closed. "I didn't think it'd be that bad."
Hermione swallowed the words that came to mind and stared at the door.
"You can say it, you know?" he told her.
"What?" She turned her head. He was looking at her and grinning, though it felt forced in her opinion.
"You can say 'I told you so'."
It wasn't funny. She didn't laugh. But she snorted. "We still have to be prepared. Just in case we… misjudge the situation. If Harry discovered our identities, then someone else could do so as well." It was unlikely - Harry was the only one who had seen her in cat form that close up and so could have identified her. But Moody remained an unknown variable, even crippled as he still was. They had to be prepared. They needed to do something - anything.
"Ron was very quiet," Jeanne remarked.
"Ron won't rat us out either," Sirius said. "Right, Hermione?"
She hesitated a moment - she didn't know Ron as well as she knew Harry. Or had known, a dark part of her added. "I don't think so. He'll take his cue from Harry."
"And Harry won't betray us," Sirius stated.
Hermione hoped that he was right. She sighed and leaned back in her chair. "We still need to do something." She couldn't do nothing.
"We'll continue as planned," Sirius said. "While I sort this out with Harry."
Hermione gasped. Was he serious? Just go on as if nothing had happened?
Jeanne shook her head. "Do you think you can do better than today?"
Sirius nodded. "Yes. Harry needs some time to think this over, but he'll come round."
"Come round?" Hermione sniffled. She wasn't going to cry. Not here.
"He'll understand why we did it. And we'll finish Malfoy as planned."
Sirius sounded more than a little as if he wanted to convince himself, Hermione noticed. She still hoped that he was correct.
She nodded and stood. "I'll go over the plans in my room - without notes," she added. Moody's eye was still a threat.
But once she was in her room, sitting on her bed, which she hadn't used in a while, all alone, she did nothing but cry until she fell asleep.
His bed felt empty without Hermione. Harry Potter had gotten used to falling asleep with her. His arm around her body, her warmth on his skin…
He pressed his lips together as he stared at the canopy above. He shouldn't feel like this. She had betrayed him. Lied to him. Deceived him. Spied on him. Played him for a fool. He shouldn't miss her. But he did.
He remembered her expression when he had left dinner, and his lips curled into a grim smile. She had been hurt. She deserved it, too. And yet… He closed his eyes and pushed the guilt away. She had hurt him. And she was a criminal. A thief.
He snorted against his will. To think that she had become exactly that for which Malfoy had framed her - a thief! It was… He shook his head. It didn't make sense. And Dumbledore had arranged the whole thing?
He didn't want to believe it, but it rang true. The Headmaster had been quite 'practical' about fighting Voldemort. Breaking the law wouldn't have fazed him.
Hadn't fazed him, Harry knew - he had done the same, after all. Blood magic. He clenched his teeth. It wasn't the same. There had been no other way to defeat Voldemort. And he hadn't sacrificed anyone - he had merely used the protection his mum had granted him. Through her sacrifice. And the Headmaster had sacrificed himself.
It wasn't the same. It wasn't. He had only technically broken the law. Blood magic was part of the Dark Arts and illegal because it required a sacrifice - but if you sacrificed yourself, then was it really a crime?
He snorted. The law was clear on that, although the Wizengamot had acquitted people in the past for using a dark curse or even an Unforgivable to defend themselves. Of course, those verdicts had been against members of the Wizengamot, or close relatives. And likely the results of massive bribes. From people like Malfoy. Or Sirius.
He rolled on to his side and almost reached out with his arm to hug someone who wasn't there, then rolled back on to his back, cursing under his breath. Malfoy. If Harry enforced the law, as he had sworn he would, Malfoy would profit. With Sirius gone, the man would control the Wizengamot. And Harry knew what Malfoy would do with such power.
But if he didn't enforce the law, then he wouldn't be any better than a criminal himself. The end didn't justify the means. Not always.
But, as he knew very well, sometimes it did. But was it the case here? Malfoy in power would be very bad for Wizarding Britain. Or was that just Harry's desire not to have to arrest his family, and his… and her?
When he finally fell asleep, alone, he still hadn't found an answer.
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, February 5th, 1999
Usually, Hermione Granger liked to sleep in at every opportunity - civilised cats didn't go to bed with the livestock, nor did they get up at dawn; that's when a good night's prowl ended - but this morning was different. She was hungry - she hadn't eaten much last evening - and she knew that staying in bed wouldn't lead to a relaxing nap, not with her stomach about to growl louder than a scared dog and threaten to scare poor Crookshanks.
So she rose, cast the usual charms for facing the day, dressed and went to the kitchen for an early breakfast - which she hoped would allow her to take a decent nap afterwards. Fresh scones, honey, tea, maybe some rashers and sausages… She was licking her lips as she pushed the kitchen door open - and froze.
Harry and Ron were at the table, eating their breakfast. And Harry was staring at her… and then he looked away.
Despite the pang of pain at seeing that, she stepped inside. "Good morning," she mumbled more than said.
"Morning." Ron nodded at her. Harry merely bit into his toast and grabbed the Daily Prophet on the table.
Hermione ignored the pain that caused and took her seat. Kreacher was already serving her tea and scones - the elf had warmed up to her presence. "Thank you, Kreacher."
He nodded, then went and started frying some sausages. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the tea with her eyes closed. That way, she didn't have to stare at Harry but wouldn't look as if she were avoiding eye contact. She cast a silent privacy charm, just in case.
"You're early," Ron commented after a moment.
She pressed her lips together, then took a sip to gain time before replying. "I was hungry," she replied. "Couldn't sleep in."
Harry scoffed. She glanced at him, but he was studiously looking at the Daily Prophet. Unless the article about a new bill regulating cauldron bottoms was more controversial than she remembered, that scoff had been aimed at her, though.
Annoyance joined the guilt and pain she felt. "What are you going to do today?" she asked.
She frowned when she saw Ron glance at Harry, who didn't react, before he cleared his throat and answered with a shrug: "The usual, I guess."
Harry scoffed again. "We're not going to arrest you, so you don't need to spy on us," he spat without looking at her.
She pressed her lips together, then snorted. "You mean you would try to arrest us." When he turned to look at her, scowling, she bared her teeth. She had escaped each time he had tried to catch her, after all.
He huffed. "You can't be lucky every time."
She almost hissed at that claim. She wasn't lucky - she was good!
Ron cleared his throat again. "Well, we should go. Don't want to be late. See you later, Hermione."
"You're right." Harry nodded and stood.
Hermione nodded, curtly. It was Friday - they didn't have a set shift and could come and go as they pleased. But she didn't say anything as they left.
Then she sighed and hung her head. She hated this. She loathed the whole situation. Why couldn't Harry be reasonable? Or at least talk to her so she could explain?
"Here, Miss." Kreacher served the sausages, and Hermione bit into one with a snarl before she remembered to thank him.
She just wanted to curl up on her bed and nap until the day was over, but with that stupid Moody in their home, she couldn't even change to do that properly. The sun simply didn't feel as nice on her skin as it did on her fur.
London, Ministry of Magic, February 5th, 1999
This was so bloody pointless! Harry Potter scowled at the file in front of him. He knew who the Night Nargles were. He knew where they were. He didn't need to look at the evidence any more. The only thing he needed to do was to sort out what he was going to do about the whole thing. Which was much easier said or thought than done, of course.
He leaned back and sighed, closing his eyes.
"Break time?" Ron asked.
"Might as well," Harry answered after a moment's hesitation.
Ron didn't comment on his lack of enthusiasm.
Harry frowned at him. "You know, you don't have to treat me as if I'm about to have a breakdown," he muttered.
Ron stopped at the door. "I'm more worried about you blowing up, actually," he replied. 'Something or someone' remained unsaid, but Harry understood it anyway.
He sighed again. "I'm not gonna blow up," he said. "I'm just frustrated since this is pointless." He gestured at the stack of case files in their office. "But we can't do anything else." Not, at least, before they decided what they'd do about the whole thing. Not before Harry made up his mind.
"Well…" Ron said with a faint grin, "trying to figure out how they did it, now that we know who they are, is kind of fun."
"What?" Harry stared at him. Ron really was spending too much time with the Lovegoods - his idea of fun had become more than a little weird.
Although, Harry had to admit to himself, as they left their office and the range of their privacy charms, he was wondering how Hermione had managed to call him from France while he was chasing her through London's airspace. He had almost caught her leather-covered behind, too, he knew, until she cheated and snuck away as a cat.
That thought made him frown just as they entered the break room. And, of course, Bathilda noticed.
"Is something wrong, Harry?" she asked as Nott, sitting next to her, nodded a greeting.
Harry opened his mouth to lie to her, then reconsidered. He was better than that. "Personal problems at home," he said as Ron fetched tea.
"Oh!" Bathilda stared at him. "Sorry, I didn't know."
He nodded.
Nott, of course, had to comment. "Love trouble, Potter?"
Harry scowled at him, which seemed to surprise the man.
"Really?" Bathilda asked, then held a hand in front of her mouth. "Sorry, I was just surprised."
Harry forced himself to smile. "I'd rather not talk about it."
But, as he noticed how many other Aurors in the room had been listening in and were now whispering to each other, he couldn't help thinking that the Night Nargles were causing even more trouble for him.
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, February 6th, 1999
Another morning after a silent dinner and a lonely night, Hermione Granger thought as she bit into a buttered scone in her room. Not even Crookshanks had kept her company. At least Harry and Ron had a weekend shift today - though she wondered if that had already been scheduled or if they had volunteered - and so they had already gone to work by the time she had left her bed.
Hermione would consider eating out to avoid having another awkward meal that ruined her appetite and mood, but she wasn't about to abandon her home. Especially not with her parents still on their cruise.
If only Harry wouldn't be so… She swallowed the thought. And the guilt, as well as the annoyance, with the last part of the scone. She had to focus on her work. One more heist and they were done. Done with heists.
She closed her eyes. She didn't want to stop. Heists were fun. Unless they hurt people about whom you cared. And if she continued her career, Harry would be hurt. She sighed. She really didn't want to stop doing heists. The thrill, the challenge, the satisfaction of beating all the guards and wards… But if she had to choose between Harry and heists, she knew whom she'd choose.
Provided, she added with a grimace, that was still an option - Harry wasn't showing any sign of forgiving them. Or her.
But she couldn't let such gloomy thoughts distract her. She had a heist to plan. And at least part of the planning she could do at home, regardless of whether or not Moody's eye could see through her privacy charms.
With a grin that was not entirely forced, she opened what passed for the Daily Prophet's society pages. And froze, rage welling up inside her.
Boy-Who-Lived Betrayed? Did His Girlfriend Cheat On Him With His Godfather?
Hermione hissed. Whoever was responsible for this travesty would regret it!
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, February 6th, 1999
Harry Potter threw the Daily Prophet on the low table and barely resisted the urge to set it on fire. Once he found out who had started that rumour, he would teach them to respect his privacy! The Ministry was worse than Hogwarts - and that was already a pretty low bar.
"I'll be in my room, talking to Luna," Ron said. He was out of the living room before Harry could do more than nod in response.
Harry frowned - he hadn't been that bad, had he? Anyone would have been angry at reading such drivel in the Prophet. And checking if Skeeter was still in Azkaban, and hadn't escaped, was merely being thorough - it wasn't as if they had anything more important to do, anyway.
Well, he could apologise to Ron later. Before dinner.
He scowled. He wasn't looking forward to dinner. All that tension, the awkward glances, seeing Hermione being all… well, seeing her. Hearing her. Remembering…
He clenched his teeth and forced his eyes shut. He didn't want to remember. Not the leather-suited thief, not the seductress, not the…
He sighed. If only Occlumency allowed him to erase memories. Maybe then it would hurt less.
The sound of steps in the hallway made him tense up. No one usually bothered him after he returned from work, not until dinner. It couldn't be Moody - he still couldn't stand up, much less walk. Kreacher used the elf-sized passages in the walls. And Hermione wouldn't make so much noise when walking. Unless she wanted him to notice her.
"'Arry?"
Jeanne. He nodded at her. "Is it time for dinner already?"
She shook her head and stepped into the living room, closing the door behind her.
Harry tensed up again. He didn't want to have another talk. But he didn't want to flee from her. This was his home as much as hers, and Aurors didn't flee from thieves.
She sat down in her usual armchair, sighing - she was showing her pregnancy now. "I've got a question for you, 'Arry."
He nodded, already thinking of how to tell her that Sirius might love him, but he had hurt him a lot so she'd understand that this went past a simple row.
"What 'urt you more - that you were left ignorant or that 'Ermione beat you so often?"
He took a deep breath. "I don't have a problem with her escaping from me," he said. She had been lucky. And she had cheated with her animagus form. And her disguises.
"Ah." She nodded slowly - she didn't believe him.
But insisting wouldn't help, Harry knew. So he didn't. She was wrong anyway. He wasn't that petty. This was about trust, not about the fact that Hermione had played him for a fool.
"Sirius 'asn't told me everything either, you know."
He scoffed. "He told you about the thieving."
"That was actually your fault."
"What?" He blinked. "Oh, that." He remembered.
She nodded. "I was recruited for Dumbledore's Order after witnessing one of your visions. And since I was already involved with Sirius, I joined 'is cell."
He shrugged. "That doesn't change the fact that none of you told me."
"I 'aven't told Sirius everything I did, either," she went on. "Nor what my family did. And neither 'as 'e told me much about 'is family. Or Azkaban."
"Well, he doesn't like to talk about it." Not about his family nor about the Dementors. Harry suppressed the pity that made him feel.
"But 'ave you told 'im everything? Or 'er?"
He stared at her. Did she know? Did they know? If they did, why hadn't they ever said anything? No, they didn't know. She was fishing. Spying, like Hermione.
She smiled. "I see."
No, she didn't. This was different. It wasn't the same. It couldn't be. He raised his chin. "If I kept a secret, then it wasn't because I found it funny to play anyone for a fool."
She shrugged in that French manner of hers, then grinned - rather maliciously. "But you did enjoy 'exing her during training, didn't you?"
That was different. And it had been funny - in some ways. And he had done it because he thought she needed the training to be safe. Because he had thought…
He rose. "I'll be in my room until dinner," he snapped and left.
He didn't look back but he knew she was smiling. As if she had won.
London, Greenwich, February 7th, 1999
Hermione Granger was a professional thief. She wouldn't let a family crisis keep her from doing her job, so to speak. Nor a libellous article in what passed for the leading newspaper in Wizarding Britain. Wizarding Britain really needed a professional newspaper. First the ridiculous moniker, now this rumour about her cheating on Harry…
She cleared her throat. "I've been studying the news. It seems that the Malfoys dare, once again, to socialise with the rest of Wizarding Britain's so-called elite."
Sirius snorted at that, but it lacked his usual humour. "Bloody parasites," he muttered.
She glanced at him and bit her lower lip. He had been like this - forced cheerfulness and optimism, but a much darker mood behind his jokes - ever since the confrontation with Harry. She didn't think he had fully recovered from his ordeal in Azkaban - and perhaps never would - and this rift in the family certainly wasn't helping. But there wasn't much she could do about it. She had to trust Jeanne. And hope that the situation with Harry would get resolved soon.
If only he'd talk to them! Or, at least, to her.
"That means your plan is feasible," Mr Fletcher said. "Provided your boyfriend doesn't have a change of heart and arrest the lot of you."
Hermione pressed her lips together as Sirius snapped: "He won't."
Mr Fletcher scoffed. "I've heard that before." He looked at Hermione, and she flinched. "This wouldn't have happened if you had been more careful."
"I had no way of cleaning the central shaft," she defended herself.
"You should have had a solution prepared in advance," he chided her. "And you should have noticed that you lost some fur there."
He was correct, of course, even though she hated to admit it. It was her fault. "Yes," she pressed out through her teeth.
He huffed. "And getting involved with him made it worse."
She knew that as well. "I didn't want to! It just happened!" Which was the truth.
Mr Fletcher shook his head. "What's done is done. But I don't like this. I don't like this at all. We need a plan that he can't foil if he tries."
That would mean deceiving him again. Luring him somewhere, distracting him or even drugging him for the heist's duration. Hermione shook her head. "No. We can't do that to him." She wouldn't sacrifice Harry for this.
"You don't have to be involved," Sirius said. "Don't worry, he doesn't know about you."
"He knows I was trained by a thief, but he doesn't know your identity," Hermione nodded at Mr Fletcher as she corrected Sirius. And even if the worst happened, they would be able to warn Mr Fletcher so he could avoid being arrested.
Mr Fletcher shook his head. "You need to sort this out. Otherwise, this heist is doomed. And not just because of Potter's meddling, but because you two can't think straight right now." He tapped Malfoy's picture in the article. "Fortunately, you still have time for that - I'll have to make a few inquiries about our mark's habits before we can proceed with the next part."
Hermione stepped on Sirius's foot when he opened his mouth. The last thing she wanted was another row between the two men. She was feeling miserable enough already with the other half of her family falling apart.
Mr Fletcher grinned - he had noticed that, of course - and left their base.
Sirius frowned at her. "That was unnecessary."
"Sorry." She didn't really mean it.
He sighed. "But the guttersnipe is correct - we need to set things straight."
"Harry isn't talking to us." Jeanne had talked to him, but Hermione wasn't sure whether that hadn't made things worse.
"He will."
She didn't share his optimism. "Eventually." Probably.
After a moment, Sirius went on: "I'll take the blame."
"What?" She stared at him.
"It's my fault. I told you not to tell him." He smiled thinly.
"I decided to go along with it," she said. "I decided to get involved with him, even though I knew better." Secrets had destroyed her relationship with Paul. Well, secrets and his attitude. And she had enjoyed outdoing Harry. Quite a bit.
"You would have told him without me, though."
"And without Jeanne and Mr Fletcher," she pointed out.
He shrugged. "He would have been fine, and Jeanne wouldn't have minded."
Hermione agreed with that - although she suspected that Jeanne would have done something rather… French… if Harry had posed a threat to her family. And might still attempt to do so, if things grew worse.
Sirius shook his head. "No. It was my mistake, and I'll shoulder the blame for this." He nodded at her with a lopsided grin that reminded her of the dog. And with rather wet eyes.
She nodded, feeling both relieved and guilty about Sirius's plan. And sacrifice. And worried whether it would be enough for her to save her relationship with Harry.
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, February 7th, 1999
"Harry?"
On his bed, on the part not taken up by Crookshanks, who apparently still thought that this was his room, Harry Potter looked up from the book he wasn't reading. That was Sirius. And Harry didn't want to talk to his godfather. "I'm busy," he replied without getting up or opening the door.
"Good." And Sirius opened the door.
Harry narrowed his eyes. "That usually means that I don't want to be bothered," he snapped. Least of all by Sirius.
"Tough." Sirius closed the door and cast a few privacy charms.
Harry sat up and crossed his arms. "This is my room."
"I wouldn't be here if it were someone else's," Sirius replied as he conjured a chair for himself. But he sighed right away. "Sorry. Didn't want to sound so…"
"...Sirius?"
His godfather flinched. "I guess." He took a deep breath. "I came to apologise. I should have told you from the start. And I should have listened to Hermione when she wanted to tell you."
Harry scoffed. "She should have told me anyway." She shouldn't have valued his godfather more than him.
"Did you really expect her to?" Sirius shook his head. "Betray me, Jeanne and her mentor? After all we went through?"
Harry glared at him. "After all your heists, you mean."
"More or less." Sirius shrugged. "I taught her how to become an animagus, too. I would have taught you as well, but you were learning Occlumency…"
"You taught her?" Harry had thought she had learned that from her mentor.
"Yes." Sirius looked at him. "I'm a dog."
Harry pressed his lips together. Another secret. "No wonder she's…"
"I also saved her life."
"What?" Harry blurted out, then snapped his mouth shut. He didn't want to hear about this. Not really.
"Yes." Sirius nodded, looking at the wall behind Harry. "We were breaking into that vampire's den. This was back when we were still inexperienced. And the vampire wasn't asleep - caught her by surprise and took out her teacher. He was about to bite her when I got him."
Harry resisted the urge to curse. If he had known about that…
Sirius nodded. "Yes, Dumbledore's missions were dangerous."
"She shouldn't have been doing them," Harry snapped. She shouldn't have been trained as a thief in the first place!
Sirius had the gall to chuckle. "I would have liked to see anyone try to stop her from being involved - the missions were for you, after all."
Harry gasped - he couldn't help it. "You know?"
Sirius shrugged with a faint grin on his face. "Who do you think stole all the blood magic grimoires for Dumbledore?" He shook his head before Harry could say anything. "But that doesn't make my mistake any better. I should have told you. I thought I knew best what was best for you, and I was wrong. And I made everyone follow my lead."
"You didn't put them under the Imperius Curse," Harry retorted.
"I didn't have to. I paid her debts. I restored her family's home. I saved her life. I helped her get revenge on those who wronged her. What kind of witch do you think she would be if she could ignore all that?"
Harry didn't want to answer that. She should have told him anyway. He huffed.
"Do you think Ron's to blame for not arresting us?"
Harry glared at his godfather. Ron was his best friend. He wouldn't betray him like that. Unlike... He closed his eyes and sighed.
"I understand why you did it." And why she hadn't told him. Even though she should have. "But that doesn't mean I can forget it." Or trust him. Them. Her. It still hurt. A lot.
"I didn't expect you to," Sirius said. But his expression told Harry that Sirius had hoped he would. After a few seconds, he continued: "We're planning to rob Malfoy Manor."
"I know." Harry ground his teeth. "It's wrong." It was a crime.
"So's blood magic."
Harry glared at him. "It's not the same."
"But it's close enough. And the principle is the same." Sirius stood. "It'll be her last heist, you know. If you ask her to stop. She'll do anything for you."
Harry snorted. Anything but telling him the truth about herself. He closed his eyes as Sirius opened the door.
"Harry?"
That was Hermione standing in the doorway, looking at him. He sat up and glared at her. He couldn't bear another talk. Not now. Not here. Not her.
She flinched in the doorway. "I'm sorry. I should have told you. And I shouldn't have enjoyed playing with you on our heists. I'm sorry." She sniffled. Once.
He managed to nod, curtly, in response.
"Will you try to stop us from robbing Malfoy?"
'Try to'. He glared at her, but she didn't flinch this time. "What choice do I have? It's you or Malfoy." He scoffed. Even if he followed the law, it would only lead to Malfoy breaking and bending it as he pleased. "I hate it!" he snapped, baring his teeth.
She nodded and left.
He closed his eyes and laid back down on his bed, dislodging the fat cat on his pillow. He couldn't win. He had tried, he had done his best, and he couldn't win. Not without breaking the law.
And that failure hurt more than anything she had done.
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, February 4th, 1999
Kreacher focused and snapped Kreacher's fingers, and the large ham floated out of the pantry on to the kitchen counter. Another snap and a knife rose and started to slice the ham while Kreacher prepared the onions. Not many elves could do two things at once, but Kreacher was one of the most experienced elves. And one of the oldest elves. Kreacher could clean a room in half an hour and float two heavy plates at once to the dining room. As befitted the house-elf of the Black Family.
Kreacher was a content elf, these days. That had not always been the case. A mere few years ago, Kreacher had seriously thought about leaving the Black Family. After Mistress Black's death. Actually, as shameful as it was, Kreacher had thought about leaving before Mistress's death. Mistress had become… eccentric. Very eccentric. And loud.
But Kreacher had stayed. As a good house-elf should - elves had a reputation for good service for a reason. And Mistress had needed Kreacher more than ever in Mistress's last years. Mistress had been lonely. The last of the Blacks, other than Master. All others had disgraced themselves. Or left the Black Family through marriage. Or both.
But Kreacher had endured. And had stayed even after Mistress's death. Kept the house in order, as much as Kreacher, as much as any elf could have, with all the dark magic in the house no longer constrained by Mistress. Kreacher had stuck with the contract and stayed.
And Kreacher's loyalty had been rewarded when Master had returned. Master wasn't Master Regulus, but Master was still a Black where it counted - in Master's blood, and in his magic. The last Black, once again - but not for much longer.
For soon, there would be a young master or mistress, born to Mistress Jeanne. Mistress would have been proud, Kreacher thought, that Master had chosen so wisely. Jeanne was a pureblood witch. A powerful witch. A graceful and beautiful witch. And a fertile witch. A wise choice indeed. With a proper pureblood family, albeit a split one, and a fitting wedding.
Yes, the Blacks were strong again. And powerful. And it was an honour to serve them. Kreacher could be proud again, and Kreacher's head would be held high when meeting other elves. Such as Dobby, the elf of the Malfoys.
Kreacher's lips drew back in a sneer. Dobby put on airs as if the Malfoys had been anything but upstarts until Mistress Narcissa married one of them. But soon, Dobby wouldn't do that any more. At all.
Kreacher sniffed at the onions, then nodded and started on the cucumbers while the ham floated back into the pantry. It was time to toast the bread and melt the cheese. Mistress Jeanne would soon want her sandwich, and a good elf anticipated orders.
A minute later, Kreacher frowned when the bell in the kitchen signalled that the fireplace had been used. It was the family bell, but that didn't mean much any more. Not since Master had taken in the half-blood godson.
Kreacher frowned again, then sighed and pulled the bread and cheese away. Kreacher hated to be late, but Kreacher had a duty to check on new arrivals. Kreacher quickly opened the elf-door to the elf-passage.
Kreacher reached the entry hall and peered through the lenses hidden in the wall. The arrival was the half-blood godson. The half-blood godson looked upset, Kreacher noticed. But it wasn't Kreacher's problem unless and until the half-blood godson called for Kreacher's help. Which the half-blood didn't.
Scoffing, Kreacher returned to the kitchen, checking if the owl or the cat had tried to sneak off with food. The animals never seemed to give up, no matter how often Kreacher thwarted them. The half-blood godson was too soft with them.
Mistress wouldn't have liked the half-blood godson. Too squeamish. Too naive. Not Black enough. And not pure enough. But Master loved him. Even though the half-blood godson was infatuated with the mudblood servant. Which would produce more half-bloods. The shame. And the half-blood godson didn't even know about the mudblood servant's talents, nor had the mudblood servant potioned the half-blood godson - Kreacher had checked. At least the other house-guest was a pureblood courting a pureblood witch, as was proper.
And the mudblood servant was useful. The Black fortune had increased greatly thanks to the mudblood servant's efforts. And the fortunes of the Blacks' rivals had diminished greatly. Kreacher grinned, showing many teeth. Soon, Dobby would be working for a ruined family.
Unless the half-blood godson ruined the plan. Kreacher scowled. The half-blood godson didn't know that family came first, as was natural. Laws and politics changed all the time, but blood didn't change. Blood would tell, as Mistress used to tell Kreacher. And as Kreacher had seen. Even the half-blood cousin, from the disgraced cousin, had shown that and told Master, not the Ministry, first about the plot against the family.
Although it turned out to be a plot against the half-blood godson, in the end. Still, the half-blood cousin had tried to do right by the family.
Kreacher finished the sandwiches right when Mistress Jeanne called for Kreacher. Smiling toothily, Kreacher opened the elf-door again, passing through the walls to Mistress Jeanne's room. Kreacher noticed that the half-blood godson was in the Pensieve, but paid no mind - the half-blood godson was allowed there. Master had said so. And a proper house-elf obeyed Master. Or sought a new Master.
But Kreacher wouldn't do that. Not when the Blacks were on the rise again. Richer and more powerful than ever. Kreacher would be the most envied elf in the country!
*****
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, February 4th, 1999
Hermione Granger wasn't concerned. Not really. But she was a little annoyed that Harry apparently took his new case - hunting her! And Sirius, Jeanne and Mr Fletcher! - so seriously that he had gone straight to the Pensieve upon coming home, without even bothering to take a detour to greet her.
Which bothered her more than it should. She bit her lower lip, pushing away the proposed bill to evaluate a relaxation of the flying carpet ban. What memory was he watching, anyway? She had obliviated the Parkinsons, the Sphinx and the elf of any crucial information. And the Memory Charm worked on Sphinxes - she had checked that beforehand, of course. Any other memories Harry might be studying he had studied before - like the broom chase across London.
She grinned, faintly, as she remembered how often he had studied that particular memory. But her suit was padded, altering her body's shape, and even if her protections against his glasses failed, she was wearing a disguise underneath it. So what was he studying? And why wasn't Ron with him?
She knew there weren't any witnesses. None that had seen anything that could finger her, at least. The clerk in the Ministry archives hadn't noticed anything. She hadn't missed any servants at Parkinson Manor. She hadn't been sloppy.
Hermione pressed her lips together. There was no need to worry. But she was worried.
"Are you and Harry having a row?"
Sirius's question made her jerk and whip her head round. He was frowning at her.
"You look like you're about to eat your lower lip," he went on. "So…?"
She sighed, though it sounded almost like a huff. "No, we're not having a row. At least," she added, "I'm not aware of one."
He grinned at that. "Well, what's got you so worried then?"
She refrained from claiming that she wasn't worried; he knew her well enough to instantly see through such a lie. And he was stubborn enough to ignore such a claim even if it were true. Sighing, she admitted: "I can't help worrying about which memories Harry is studying."
"Which memories he cares so much about that he skipped kissing you on coming home?" The dog cocked his head with a teasing grin.
She glared at him, and his grin vanished. He sighed. "Sorry."
She nodded, curtly, in response.
"Well, you could ask him."
She bit her lower lip again. She didn't want to abuse their relationship to spy on Harry. Sometimes it happened anyway - but she hadn't found out anything important from him. Nothing that would have made or broken a heist.
Sirius sighed. She glared at him. But before she could retort, the door to the study was pushed open. It was Harry. And he looked… awful. And angry. And he hadn't knocked, a part of her noted.
"Oh, Harry!" Sirius said with a chuckle - though Hermione thought it sounded a little forced. Maybe more than a little. "We were starting to get worried about you getting lost in the Pensieve."
He didn't answer straight away. Just stared at them. At her. She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong when he took a deep, shuddering breath.
"You are the Night Nargles."
Hermione felt as if she had been kicked in the stomach. He knew. How?
"What?" Sirius said. Was he about to play dumb?
"Don't you dare deny it," Harry spat without looking at Sirius. Without taking his eyes off her. He was angrier than she had ever seen him, she realised. "You are the stray."
She gasped. Despite her training, despite her experience, she couldn't help it. He knew. And he was furious.
"I've never seen you together with the stray cat. But I've seen her - in Knockturn Alley. Twice. And I've seen her fur - in France. And in the Ministry." He hadn't moved from the door. Hadn't come closer.
She gasped again. The Ministry? But she had cleaned up the air ducts. And she hadn't left any trace during her earlier strolls through the Ministry. How?
She hadn't realised that she asked the question out loud until he answered: "A tuft of fur, stuck to a welding seam in the main shaft of the air ducts."
Where her cleaning charm wouldn't have reached. She clenched her teeth and wanted to curse. And to cry. It was all her fault.
"Ah." Sirius nodded. He was even smiling, Hermione realised. "Well done! No wonder you're the Ministry's best Auror!"
Hermione didn't know who wanted to curse Sirius more right now - her or Harry.
*****
Harry Potter glared at his godfather and struggled not to draw his wand. "Do you think this is funny?" he spat through clenched teeth. Not only had they hidden this… this… this unbelievable betrayal from him, they were even being flippant about it!
Sirius sighed, his smile fading. "No, I don't think it is. Sorry." He stood. "I just wanted to…" He shrugged. "Let's talk about this in a more civilised setting. It's not just the three of us who are involved in this, anyway."
"Jeanne," Harry said.
"Of course." Sirius nodded. "Did you tell Ron?"
Harry tensed. "I haven't told him yet." Would Sirius try to obliviate him?
Sirius nodded again, smiling faintly. "Perhaps we should tell him that we decided to have a double date because I don't think we'll be done before dinner, and he wouldn't miss the general tension during the meal."
His godfather was far too calm, Harry thought. Unlike Hermione, who hadn't said more than a few syllables since his accusations and who looked stricken. "Why don't you want to tell him at the same time?"
"This is family business," Sirius replied. "And you didn't tell him either, did you? You came straight to us."
"That wasn't because I want to keep him in the dark!" Harry retorted, glaring at Sirius. He wouldn't do that to his best friend. He was better than that!
"Still, this should be discussed among ourselves first, I think," Sirius said.
"Yes," Hermione agreed.
He glanced at her. She was trying to put up a calm front as well, but she wasn't succeeding - he could tell. Or he thought he could tell. She certainly had completely fooled him for a long time. He ground his teeth. He had to focus. Treat this like a case. A normal case. He couldn't let his emotions rule him. "I'm not lying to him," he pressed out.
"Do you want him involved?" Sirius asked. He sounded honest, but he, too, had fooled Harry. And had made a fool out of him.
And, if he was honest, Harry didn't know if he really wanted Ron involved. But his partner was his best friend. Perhaps his only friend. "He'll want to know what I found out, anyway," he pointed out.
"True," Sirius said. "I'll tell Kreacher to prepare dinner as usual. It's a good thing Moody's still not able to join us at the table. That would have been awkward."
His godfather was far too calm about this. Harry couldn't understand. "Why are you so… so…"
Sirius chuckled, though he sounded rather rueful. "Some Black family dinners would make our upcoming discussion look tame, I'd say."
Harry didn't laugh. Hermione did, but it sounded more like a sob.
*****
Kreacher had prepared a great dinner - roast beef and pommes frites with julienne carrots - but Hermione Granger could only pick at her meal. Her stomach still felt as if it were tying itself into knots and trying to drop to the floor at the same time. She glanced at Harry. His jaw muscles were so tense…
She looked at her plate and pushed the piece of meat she had just cut around a little, then stabbed it and put it in her mouth. She didn't notice when she stopped chewing and swallowed it, nor did she remember the taste. She glanced at Harry again. His lips were pressed together with such force, they formed a pale line.
Sirius and Jeanne were eating, but Sirius was far tenser than he was pretending to be - she could tell since he wasn't joking around. And Jeanne… well, her smile looked frozen.
Ron's voice broke through the silence after five minutes. "So, is anyone going to tell me what happened?"
Hermione drew a sharp breath and put the silverware down. This was it. She tried to steady herself. Focus. She could do this. She was a professional thief. Which was the problem. She swallowed.
"Harry found out that we're the Night Nargles," Sirius said, after recasting a privacy charm.
Ron blinked, looking stunned for a moment, then whipped his head round to stare at Harry. "What?"
"Yes," Harry spat, then glared at Sirius - and then at Hermione. "It's true."
She flinched, then swallowed, raised her head and met his gaze.
Ron looked at everyone in turn, then cleared his throat. "Ah." After a moment, he cleared his throat again. "So… I guess we're not arresting them?"
"That'd be 'trying to arrest'," Sirius replied with a toothy grin, which quickly vanished at Harry's glare. "Sorry."
"We're about to explain the whole affair." Hermione surprised herself by speaking up, then pressed her lips together. She shouldn't cower like a mouse - she hadn't done anything wrong. Well, not without good reasons. Well-meaning reasons, at least.
"Over dinner?" Ron said.
"That was the plan," Hermione replied. Talking to him was far easier than talking to Harry. Or looking at Harry. "Sirius's, to be exact," she added. "But it seems it isn't working as well as he thought it would."
"Pity. The beef is great," Ron said.
"Let's talk," Harry ground out. "Why did you lie to me?"
Hermione took a deep breath. This was the crucial question. If she botched this...
"It was for your own good," Sirius said.
Hermione closed her eyes, clenched her teeth and almost hissed in frustration.
*****
"My own good?" Harry Potter couldn't believe his ears. He scoffed, shaking his head. "My own good?" How could Sirius claim such nonsense? "You fooled me for my own good?"
"You wanted to become an Auror to clean up the Ministry. If we told you that we were planning to rob Malfoy and his cronies of their gold, you would have had to abandon that dream," Sirius said.
Harry blinked. "What?"
"After Voldemort's death," Hermione cut in, "when you told us of your dream of becoming an Auror, Sirius thought that if we told you, you would be forced to join us."
He looked at her. She met his eyes, though he caught her flinching. "You thought I would become a thief?" Were they mad? He was an Auror! Not a criminal!
"Would you have become an Auror, knowing that we would be robbing Malfoy's allies and so you'd be protecting us?" she asked.
He scoffed again. "I would have prevented you from starting this… this…" He shook his head. "This crime spree!" This madness!
"Why did you do it?" Ron suddenly asked. "The Blacks are the richest family in Britain. You don't need the gold."
That was a good question. Harry should have asked that first. He looked at Sirius, then Hermione and Jeanne. His godfather was still far too calm, as if this wasn't serious. Hermione put up a good front, but she was biting her lower lip whenever she thought he wasn't looking. And Jeanne was frowning. At Harry.
"We want to reform Britain. Root out the corruption. Get rid of Malfoy and his ilk," Sirius said.
"By becoming criminals?" Harry laughed, once, out of sheer disbelief.
Sirius frowned at him. "As long as Malfoy has his gold, he's untouchable. You should know how bad things are in the Ministry - how many he has bought. It costs a lot just to counter his plots. The Wizengamot will never find him guilty."
"And ruining him is the only way to make him pay for what he did to my family and me," Hermione said. "He and his friends tried to ruin me, and now they are ruined. Only Malfoy is left." She scowled, baring her teeth.
"You can't get justice by committing crimes!" Harry shot back. "That's wrong!" It went against everything the law stood for. It was mere revenge.
"Dumbledore disagreed," Sirius replied.
"What?" Harry blurted out, then pressed his lips together. As much as he avoided thinking about it, Dumbledore had taught him blood magic - illegal in Britain, and most countries - to defeat Voldemort. But only because there had been no other way.
"He had me trained as a thief since I was expelled," Hermione said.
"What?" Harry gaped at her.
She frowned at him. "He needed thieves for the fight against Voldemort."
"And spies," Jeanne added.
"Did you think we just decided to start robbing manors after Voldemort's defeat?" Hermione scoffed. "I trained for years for this!"
"So this was what you were doing for Dumbledore," Ron said.
"Stealing books, gathering information, tracking Death Eaters," Hermione said, shrugging. "Whatever he needed stolen without anyone knowing, we did."
"She almost died a few times," Sirius added.
What? Harry whipped his head around and stared at her, but she was glaring at his godfather. "Only once."
"Twice at least - you were almost caught by Voldemort himself," Sirius retorted.
What? Harry blinked. She had robbed the Dark Lord himself? Was she mad?
"Merlin's arse!" Ron exclaimed. "What happened?"
Hermione huffed. "He only saw a cat; I was perfectly safe."
"A cat?" Ron asked.
Before Harry could explain, Hermione changed into her cat form and jumped on the table.
"Blimey!" Ron gasped. "Wait a minute… I saw you before!"
"She's been spying on us on a few occasions," Harry said, clenching his teeth. Played the harmless cat to fool him.
Hermione returned to her seat and changed back. "Not like that!" she protested. "I was merely watching out for you!"
"Sure you were!" Harry spat. "You spied on us the whole time!" Even in their bed!
She jerked back, stunned for a moment. "I didn't want to!" She sniffled, and her eyes seemed to glitter a little in the light. "I wanted to keep my distance to avoid exactly that!"
"Well, you failed," Harry retorted with narrowed eyes.
"So it wasn't Paul's fault!" Ron blurted out.
"What?" "What?"
Harry glanced at Hermione, momentarily taken aback by her asking the same question at the same time.
"She wasn't skittish because of what Paul did, but because of you," Ron explained.
"Ah." Harry started to nod, then caught himself. That didn't matter right now.
"I didn't want to enter a relationship with a secret between us," Hermione said, then wiped her eyes. "That ruined my relationship with Paul. I couldn't tell him about magic." She glared at Sirius. "And I couldn't tell you about our robberies, even though I wanted to."
Harry scoffed at that claim. Of course she could have told him! And she had entered a relationship with him! And deceived him the whole time! Played him for a fool!
"It's true," Sirius said. "I forbade her to tell you."
"It wasn't just my secret to tell," Hermione added, though she wasn't looking at Harry as she spoke.
That made some sense, Harry had to admit. Sirius and Jeanne's crimes would have been revealed as well. And… "Your tutor! He's a thief as well isn't he?" If she had been training to become a thief since her expulsion, then that was the only explanation. Unless there were books on robbing people.
"Yes." Now she was looking at him.
"You still should have told me," he said. She should have. "But you used me! You used my training to escape from us on your heists!"
*****
What? Hermione Granger snarled, baring her teeth. That wasn't true! "I didn't! Sirius trained me! I had to act as if I were worse at Defence to keep my cover!"
Harry jerked as if struck, then pressed his lips together. "So that was a lie as well."
Hermione winced. She shouldn't have worded it like that. She didn't mean it like that. And she hadn't tried to fool him - well, she had, but fooling him hadn't been her goal, she had had to do it to keep her cover.
"It was almost as amusing as the time you threw her out of the house," Sirius said. "She had to let herself get hit by Stinging Hexes in every session."
Hermione glared at the dog, and Harry scowled with clenched teeth.
Sirius sighed. "Sorry."
"We didn't spy on you - not deliberately," Hermione said. Harry's expression didn't change. "And I didn't want to start a relationship with you because it would have been unfair."
"Yet you did," he said in a flat voice.
Seeing his expression hurt more than his worst hexes. She bit her lower lip, then slowly nodded. "Yes. It happened. I just couldn't keep away from you." She wouldn't apologise for that.
He didn't say anything for a moment, but she saw his jaw muscles move. And he kept glaring at her.
She blinked to clear her eyes and fought not to sob. This was even worse than she had feared.
"Oh, mon Dieu!" Jeanne exclaimed. "She loves you, you idiot! Of course, she couldn't keep away from you!"
"You don't lie like that to someone you love," Harry spat.
Hermione cringed. "I didn't want to!" she protested before Jeanne could call Harry more names.
"Really?" He scoffed. "But you did. You lied to me for years."
That wasn't true. Hermione almost retorted that withholding the truth wasn't the same as lying. But that would have made the situation even worse. Instead, she said: "You didn't tell me what you were doing with Dumbledore either." He flinched at that.
"And you never even asked me about my work for Dumbledore," Sirius added.
Harry bared his teeth. "It's not the same."
Hermione bit her lower lip to keep from demanding to know how it wasn't the same.
Harry glanced at her, then looked away. "And even if it was, you kept lying to me after Voldemort's defeat. All of you."
"Yes, we did," Sirius said. "As I said, I decided that. I didn't want to drag you into this and destroy your dream of becoming an Auror."
"So you made the decision for me?" Harry scoffed.
Sirius grimaced. "Well… I couldn't really ask you if you'd rather become a thief, could I? And whenever I tried to feel you out, you were adamant about enforcing the law."
"That's because you can't fight the criminals by becoming a criminal!" Harry retorted.
"Of course you can!" Sirius shot back. "What did you think we did when fighting Voldemort? "Without us, Dumbledore probably wouldn't have had half the books he needed - those weren't the sort you could buy in a shop."
Harry flinched again, Hermione noticed.
And Sirius went on: "And you know how things work at the Ministry - if we don't ruin Malfoy, we'll never change the system. It's rotten to the core. The worst criminals can have their friends judge them in the Wizengamot. You've complained often enough about this."
"You'd 'ave been fired already if not for Sirius throwing 'is gold round," Jeanne added.
Harry glared at her. "That doesn't mean it was right."
The French witch huffed. "Do you want Malfoy and his minions gone from the Ministry and the Wizengamot, or not?"
"Not like this!" Harry bared his teeth again.
"And that's why I didn't want to tell you," Sirius said. "I knew you wouldn't like it."
"You should have told me!" Harry spat.
"Yes, we should," Sirius said after a moment. "I realise that now. I just wanted the best for you," he added. "I'm sorry."
Harry scoffed again. "And yet, you kept me in the dark. Did you find it funny when I complained about you without knowing you were the Night Nargles?"
Hermione pressed her lips together and clenched her teeth. She didn't want to lie to him, but if she admitted that - sometimes! - it had been funny…
But the lack of answer was enough. Harry shook his head. "I see," he hissed, then stood so abruptly, his chair almost toppled over. For a moment, he stood there, his lips moving without making a sound, then he turned and stormed out of the room.
With a grimace, Ron stood and followed him.
As soon as the door closed, Sirius sighed and seemed to collapse in his chair, covering his face with his hands. Jeanne moved to hug him.
Hermione looked at the door. Part of her wanted to run after Harry. Apologise. She hadn't, yet, she realised with a shock. Part of her wanted to hug Sirius. Comfort him. Thank him for taking the blame. Or trying to take the blame, at least.
In the end, she did neither. She kept sitting, staring at the door.
*****
Harry Potter's Bludgeoning Curse smashed into the stone figure, pulverising part of its shoulder and causing its left arm to fall away as it was bowled over. His next curse - a Reductor Curse - hit it before the arm had stopped rolling on the floor and blew up the figure's torso, sending stone shards and fragments through the room, a dozen of them bouncing off his Shield Charm.
But the limbs and part of the hips were still around - thanks to his glasses, he could see them through the dust cloud his spell had thrown up. Snarling, he cast a few more Bludgeoning Curses, smashing the legs and arms to pieces before blowing up the head with another Reductor Curse.
As he waited for the new dust cloud to settle, he clenched his teeth. He didn't feel any better. He still wanted to smash something. Hurt someone. Do anything to spread the pain he was feeling.
"Whoa!"
Harry whirled around, his wand rising out of reflex. Then he froze and took a short breath. "Ron." His friend must have entered the training room without Harry noticing. Sloppy.
"Mate." Ron seemed unconcerned about Harry's wand pointing at him. He looked at the remains of the stone figure. "Feeling better?"
Harry snorted. "No."
Ron nodded. "Didn't think you would." He flicked his wand and conjured a bench, then sat down.
Harry looked at him. "You gonna watch me vent my anger?"
Ron shrugged. "I figure you need some company, but the last thing you need is someone else pushing you. So I'll simply wait."
Harry laughed, once, then had to struggle not to sob. He shook his head and sat down next to his friend, his wand dangling from his hand, and stared at the rubble. After a moment, he took a deep breath. "Thanks."
"Sure thing, mate."
Harry closed his eyes. "Bloody hell, I still can't believe they did this!" How could they have done this? To him?
"Well, in hindsight, it makes sense," Ron said. Harry jerked his head to glare at him, and his friend went on: "That they robbed the manors, I mean."
"What?" Harry snarled.
Ron held his hands up. "Mate, you know how it works. As long as Malfoy has gold to spend, he won't get convicted no matter what he does. And no matter what we do."
Harry pressed his lips together. "It's still a crime!" A crime spree, even.
"Well, yeah." Ron shrugged. "But if it's the only way to get rid of Malfoy?"
"Ron! We're Aurors - we're supposed to enforce the law! We've sworn an oath!"
"Well, we did - but we also swore to faithfully serve and defend Wizarding Britain." Ron chuckled. "And that kind of doesn't go along with upholding the law in this case, if the law's protecting Malfoy. And you know that if Sirius were arrested, we'd get fired as soon as Malfoy's done celebrating - all of his enemies, gone."
Harry closed his eyes. Not Ron too. Was everyone corrupt?
"And you heard them - Dumbledore had her trained as a thief," Ron went on.
"Yes," Harry spat. That didn't mean it was right.
"And he sent them out to steal stuff."
"If they're telling the truth," Harry replied.
"Do you think they lied?"
They had lied to him before! Harry drew a shuddering breath through clenched teeth. Lied, and laughed at him. He closed his eyes. "No. No, I don't think so." Hermione had looked… He shook his head. She deserved it. And Sirius… He didn't think they had been lying. Not at dinner, at least.
"They should have told you, though," Ron said.
Harry nodded. "Yes," he pressed out, "they should have." They hadn't, though.
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
"They made a fool out of me. Out of us," Harry said.
"They did," Ron agreed.
Harry glanced at him. His friend was far too calm. "Why aren't you angry?"
Ron shrugged. "I am a little, I guess. But on the whole? I've been made fun of my whole life by my brothers - and not because they thought it would be best for me. And the entire school has made fun of Luna for selfish or cruel reasons. I guess this simply doesn't seem so bad in comparison."
Harry hissed through his teeth. Not so bad?
Before he could tell Ron off, though, his friend continued. "I don't know what I'd do if Luna had done this, though," he said.
Harry nodded stiffly. "I trusted her." Well, not with everything. Not with what he had done with Dumbledore. What kind of magic he had learned, and used. Blood magic. Illegal magic, he added, unbidden, before pushing the thought, and the guilt, away. Again. But there were good reasons for not telling her all his secrets. More than ever, after these revelations.
Another moment passed in silence. The remains of one of the figure's legs suddenly crumbled to the ground, sending dust motes up in the air.
"So, what are you gonna do?" Ron asked.
Harry sighed. "I don't know." He didn't want to betray his oath as an Auror. He didn't want to break the law. But he didn't want to see Malfoy rule Britain, either. And to arrest his own family? And Hermione? They were criminals, and they had hurt him, but…
"I don't bloody know."
*****
Hermione Granger managed to stop biting her lower lip before she drew blood, but it was a near thing. As much as it hurt to see Harry like this, she was a professional thief - and she had responsibilities. She glanced at Sirius and Jeanne, who were still holding each other. Yes, someone had to speak up.
"What are we going to do now?"
Sirius didn't open his eyes, but she saw him tense slightly. Jeanne frowned at her, but Hermione ignored that. They had to do something.
After a few seconds, she added: "We need to prepare in case the Aurors come after us."
Sirius shook his head, causing Jeanne to loosen her grip on him. "Harry won't rat us out."
She bit her lower lip again, then hissed in frustration at herself and took a deep breath. She didn't share his optimism. "We hurt him. A lot." She had hurt him. And she had known he'd be hurt. She should have told him!
Sirius sighed. "I know." He leaned back - still with his eyes closed. "I didn't think it'd be that bad."
Hermione swallowed the words that came to mind and stared at the door.
"You can say it, you know?" he told her.
"What?" She turned her head. He was looking at her and grinning, though it felt forced in her opinion.
"You can say 'I told you so'."
It wasn't funny. She didn't laugh. But she snorted. "We still have to be prepared. Just in case we… misjudge the situation. If Harry discovered our identities, then someone else could do so as well." It was unlikely - Harry was the only one who had seen her in cat form that close up and so could have identified her. But Moody remained an unknown variable, even crippled as he still was. They had to be prepared. They needed to do something - anything.
"Ron was very quiet," Jeanne remarked.
"Ron won't rat us out either," Sirius said. "Right, Hermione?"
She hesitated a moment - she didn't know Ron as well as she knew Harry. Or had known, a dark part of her added. "I don't think so. He'll take his cue from Harry."
"And Harry won't betray us," Sirius stated.
Hermione hoped that he was right. She sighed and leaned back in her chair. "We still need to do something." She couldn't do nothing.
"We'll continue as planned," Sirius said. "While I sort this out with Harry."
Hermione gasped. Was he serious? Just go on as if nothing had happened?
Jeanne shook her head. "Do you think you can do better than today?"
Sirius nodded. "Yes. Harry needs some time to think this over, but he'll come round."
"Come round?" Hermione sniffled. She wasn't going to cry. Not here.
"He'll understand why we did it. And we'll finish Malfoy as planned."
Sirius sounded more than a little as if he wanted to convince himself, Hermione noticed. She still hoped that he was correct.
She nodded and stood. "I'll go over the plans in my room - without notes," she added. Moody's eye was still a threat.
But once she was in her room, sitting on her bed, which she hadn't used in a while, all alone, she did nothing but cry until she fell asleep.
*****
His bed felt empty without Hermione. Harry Potter had gotten used to falling asleep with her. His arm around her body, her warmth on his skin…
He pressed his lips together as he stared at the canopy above. He shouldn't feel like this. She had betrayed him. Lied to him. Deceived him. Spied on him. Played him for a fool. He shouldn't miss her. But he did.
He remembered her expression when he had left dinner, and his lips curled into a grim smile. She had been hurt. She deserved it, too. And yet… He closed his eyes and pushed the guilt away. She had hurt him. And she was a criminal. A thief.
He snorted against his will. To think that she had become exactly that for which Malfoy had framed her - a thief! It was… He shook his head. It didn't make sense. And Dumbledore had arranged the whole thing?
He didn't want to believe it, but it rang true. The Headmaster had been quite 'practical' about fighting Voldemort. Breaking the law wouldn't have fazed him.
Hadn't fazed him, Harry knew - he had done the same, after all. Blood magic. He clenched his teeth. It wasn't the same. There had been no other way to defeat Voldemort. And he hadn't sacrificed anyone - he had merely used the protection his mum had granted him. Through her sacrifice. And the Headmaster had sacrificed himself.
It wasn't the same. It wasn't. He had only technically broken the law. Blood magic was part of the Dark Arts and illegal because it required a sacrifice - but if you sacrificed yourself, then was it really a crime?
He snorted. The law was clear on that, although the Wizengamot had acquitted people in the past for using a dark curse or even an Unforgivable to defend themselves. Of course, those verdicts had been against members of the Wizengamot, or close relatives. And likely the results of massive bribes. From people like Malfoy. Or Sirius.
He rolled on to his side and almost reached out with his arm to hug someone who wasn't there, then rolled back on to his back, cursing under his breath. Malfoy. If Harry enforced the law, as he had sworn he would, Malfoy would profit. With Sirius gone, the man would control the Wizengamot. And Harry knew what Malfoy would do with such power.
But if he didn't enforce the law, then he wouldn't be any better than a criminal himself. The end didn't justify the means. Not always.
But, as he knew very well, sometimes it did. But was it the case here? Malfoy in power would be very bad for Wizarding Britain. Or was that just Harry's desire not to have to arrest his family, and his… and her?
When he finally fell asleep, alone, he still hadn't found an answer.
*****
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, February 5th, 1999
Usually, Hermione Granger liked to sleep in at every opportunity - civilised cats didn't go to bed with the livestock, nor did they get up at dawn; that's when a good night's prowl ended - but this morning was different. She was hungry - she hadn't eaten much last evening - and she knew that staying in bed wouldn't lead to a relaxing nap, not with her stomach about to growl louder than a scared dog and threaten to scare poor Crookshanks.
So she rose, cast the usual charms for facing the day, dressed and went to the kitchen for an early breakfast - which she hoped would allow her to take a decent nap afterwards. Fresh scones, honey, tea, maybe some rashers and sausages… She was licking her lips as she pushed the kitchen door open - and froze.
Harry and Ron were at the table, eating their breakfast. And Harry was staring at her… and then he looked away.
Despite the pang of pain at seeing that, she stepped inside. "Good morning," she mumbled more than said.
"Morning." Ron nodded at her. Harry merely bit into his toast and grabbed the Daily Prophet on the table.
Hermione ignored the pain that caused and took her seat. Kreacher was already serving her tea and scones - the elf had warmed up to her presence. "Thank you, Kreacher."
He nodded, then went and started frying some sausages. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the tea with her eyes closed. That way, she didn't have to stare at Harry but wouldn't look as if she were avoiding eye contact. She cast a silent privacy charm, just in case.
"You're early," Ron commented after a moment.
She pressed her lips together, then took a sip to gain time before replying. "I was hungry," she replied. "Couldn't sleep in."
Harry scoffed. She glanced at him, but he was studiously looking at the Daily Prophet. Unless the article about a new bill regulating cauldron bottoms was more controversial than she remembered, that scoff had been aimed at her, though.
Annoyance joined the guilt and pain she felt. "What are you going to do today?" she asked.
She frowned when she saw Ron glance at Harry, who didn't react, before he cleared his throat and answered with a shrug: "The usual, I guess."
Harry scoffed again. "We're not going to arrest you, so you don't need to spy on us," he spat without looking at her.
She pressed her lips together, then snorted. "You mean you would try to arrest us." When he turned to look at her, scowling, she bared her teeth. She had escaped each time he had tried to catch her, after all.
He huffed. "You can't be lucky every time."
She almost hissed at that claim. She wasn't lucky - she was good!
Ron cleared his throat again. "Well, we should go. Don't want to be late. See you later, Hermione."
"You're right." Harry nodded and stood.
Hermione nodded, curtly. It was Friday - they didn't have a set shift and could come and go as they pleased. But she didn't say anything as they left.
Then she sighed and hung her head. She hated this. She loathed the whole situation. Why couldn't Harry be reasonable? Or at least talk to her so she could explain?
"Here, Miss." Kreacher served the sausages, and Hermione bit into one with a snarl before she remembered to thank him.
She just wanted to curl up on her bed and nap until the day was over, but with that stupid Moody in their home, she couldn't even change to do that properly. The sun simply didn't feel as nice on her skin as it did on her fur.
*****
London, Ministry of Magic, February 5th, 1999
This was so bloody pointless! Harry Potter scowled at the file in front of him. He knew who the Night Nargles were. He knew where they were. He didn't need to look at the evidence any more. The only thing he needed to do was to sort out what he was going to do about the whole thing. Which was much easier said or thought than done, of course.
He leaned back and sighed, closing his eyes.
"Break time?" Ron asked.
"Might as well," Harry answered after a moment's hesitation.
Ron didn't comment on his lack of enthusiasm.
Harry frowned at him. "You know, you don't have to treat me as if I'm about to have a breakdown," he muttered.
Ron stopped at the door. "I'm more worried about you blowing up, actually," he replied. 'Something or someone' remained unsaid, but Harry understood it anyway.
He sighed again. "I'm not gonna blow up," he said. "I'm just frustrated since this is pointless." He gestured at the stack of case files in their office. "But we can't do anything else." Not, at least, before they decided what they'd do about the whole thing. Not before Harry made up his mind.
"Well…" Ron said with a faint grin, "trying to figure out how they did it, now that we know who they are, is kind of fun."
"What?" Harry stared at him. Ron really was spending too much time with the Lovegoods - his idea of fun had become more than a little weird.
Although, Harry had to admit to himself, as they left their office and the range of their privacy charms, he was wondering how Hermione had managed to call him from France while he was chasing her through London's airspace. He had almost caught her leather-covered behind, too, he knew, until she cheated and snuck away as a cat.
That thought made him frown just as they entered the break room. And, of course, Bathilda noticed.
"Is something wrong, Harry?" she asked as Nott, sitting next to her, nodded a greeting.
Harry opened his mouth to lie to her, then reconsidered. He was better than that. "Personal problems at home," he said as Ron fetched tea.
"Oh!" Bathilda stared at him. "Sorry, I didn't know."
He nodded.
Nott, of course, had to comment. "Love trouble, Potter?"
Harry scowled at him, which seemed to surprise the man.
"Really?" Bathilda asked, then held a hand in front of her mouth. "Sorry, I was just surprised."
Harry forced himself to smile. "I'd rather not talk about it."
But, as he noticed how many other Aurors in the room had been listening in and were now whispering to each other, he couldn't help thinking that the Night Nargles were causing even more trouble for him.
*****
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, February 6th, 1999
Another morning after a silent dinner and a lonely night, Hermione Granger thought as she bit into a buttered scone in her room. Not even Crookshanks had kept her company. At least Harry and Ron had a weekend shift today - though she wondered if that had already been scheduled or if they had volunteered - and so they had already gone to work by the time she had left her bed.
Hermione would consider eating out to avoid having another awkward meal that ruined her appetite and mood, but she wasn't about to abandon her home. Especially not with her parents still on their cruise.
If only Harry wouldn't be so… She swallowed the thought. And the guilt, as well as the annoyance, with the last part of the scone. She had to focus on her work. One more heist and they were done. Done with heists.
She closed her eyes. She didn't want to stop. Heists were fun. Unless they hurt people about whom you cared. And if she continued her career, Harry would be hurt. She sighed. She really didn't want to stop doing heists. The thrill, the challenge, the satisfaction of beating all the guards and wards… But if she had to choose between Harry and heists, she knew whom she'd choose.
Provided, she added with a grimace, that was still an option - Harry wasn't showing any sign of forgiving them. Or her.
But she couldn't let such gloomy thoughts distract her. She had a heist to plan. And at least part of the planning she could do at home, regardless of whether or not Moody's eye could see through her privacy charms.
With a grin that was not entirely forced, she opened what passed for the Daily Prophet's society pages. And froze, rage welling up inside her.
Boy-Who-Lived Betrayed? Did His Girlfriend Cheat On Him With His Godfather?
Hermione hissed. Whoever was responsible for this travesty would regret it!
*****
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, February 6th, 1999
Harry Potter threw the Daily Prophet on the low table and barely resisted the urge to set it on fire. Once he found out who had started that rumour, he would teach them to respect his privacy! The Ministry was worse than Hogwarts - and that was already a pretty low bar.
"I'll be in my room, talking to Luna," Ron said. He was out of the living room before Harry could do more than nod in response.
Harry frowned - he hadn't been that bad, had he? Anyone would have been angry at reading such drivel in the Prophet. And checking if Skeeter was still in Azkaban, and hadn't escaped, was merely being thorough - it wasn't as if they had anything more important to do, anyway.
Well, he could apologise to Ron later. Before dinner.
He scowled. He wasn't looking forward to dinner. All that tension, the awkward glances, seeing Hermione being all… well, seeing her. Hearing her. Remembering…
He clenched his teeth and forced his eyes shut. He didn't want to remember. Not the leather-suited thief, not the seductress, not the…
He sighed. If only Occlumency allowed him to erase memories. Maybe then it would hurt less.
The sound of steps in the hallway made him tense up. No one usually bothered him after he returned from work, not until dinner. It couldn't be Moody - he still couldn't stand up, much less walk. Kreacher used the elf-sized passages in the walls. And Hermione wouldn't make so much noise when walking. Unless she wanted him to notice her.
"'Arry?"
Jeanne. He nodded at her. "Is it time for dinner already?"
She shook her head and stepped into the living room, closing the door behind her.
Harry tensed up again. He didn't want to have another talk. But he didn't want to flee from her. This was his home as much as hers, and Aurors didn't flee from thieves.
She sat down in her usual armchair, sighing - she was showing her pregnancy now. "I've got a question for you, 'Arry."
He nodded, already thinking of how to tell her that Sirius might love him, but he had hurt him a lot so she'd understand that this went past a simple row.
"What 'urt you more - that you were left ignorant or that 'Ermione beat you so often?"
He took a deep breath. "I don't have a problem with her escaping from me," he said. She had been lucky. And she had cheated with her animagus form. And her disguises.
"Ah." She nodded slowly - she didn't believe him.
But insisting wouldn't help, Harry knew. So he didn't. She was wrong anyway. He wasn't that petty. This was about trust, not about the fact that Hermione had played him for a fool.
"Sirius 'asn't told me everything either, you know."
He scoffed. "He told you about the thieving."
"That was actually your fault."
"What?" He blinked. "Oh, that." He remembered.
She nodded. "I was recruited for Dumbledore's Order after witnessing one of your visions. And since I was already involved with Sirius, I joined 'is cell."
He shrugged. "That doesn't change the fact that none of you told me."
"I 'aven't told Sirius everything I did, either," she went on. "Nor what my family did. And neither 'as 'e told me much about 'is family. Or Azkaban."
"Well, he doesn't like to talk about it." Not about his family nor about the Dementors. Harry suppressed the pity that made him feel.
"But 'ave you told 'im everything? Or 'er?"
He stared at her. Did she know? Did they know? If they did, why hadn't they ever said anything? No, they didn't know. She was fishing. Spying, like Hermione.
She smiled. "I see."
No, she didn't. This was different. It wasn't the same. It couldn't be. He raised his chin. "If I kept a secret, then it wasn't because I found it funny to play anyone for a fool."
She shrugged in that French manner of hers, then grinned - rather maliciously. "But you did enjoy 'exing her during training, didn't you?"
That was different. And it had been funny - in some ways. And he had done it because he thought she needed the training to be safe. Because he had thought…
He rose. "I'll be in my room until dinner," he snapped and left.
He didn't look back but he knew she was smiling. As if she had won.
*****
London, Greenwich, February 7th, 1999
Hermione Granger was a professional thief. She wouldn't let a family crisis keep her from doing her job, so to speak. Nor a libellous article in what passed for the leading newspaper in Wizarding Britain. Wizarding Britain really needed a professional newspaper. First the ridiculous moniker, now this rumour about her cheating on Harry…
She cleared her throat. "I've been studying the news. It seems that the Malfoys dare, once again, to socialise with the rest of Wizarding Britain's so-called elite."
Sirius snorted at that, but it lacked his usual humour. "Bloody parasites," he muttered.
She glanced at him and bit her lower lip. He had been like this - forced cheerfulness and optimism, but a much darker mood behind his jokes - ever since the confrontation with Harry. She didn't think he had fully recovered from his ordeal in Azkaban - and perhaps never would - and this rift in the family certainly wasn't helping. But there wasn't much she could do about it. She had to trust Jeanne. And hope that the situation with Harry would get resolved soon.
If only he'd talk to them! Or, at least, to her.
"That means your plan is feasible," Mr Fletcher said. "Provided your boyfriend doesn't have a change of heart and arrest the lot of you."
Hermione pressed her lips together as Sirius snapped: "He won't."
Mr Fletcher scoffed. "I've heard that before." He looked at Hermione, and she flinched. "This wouldn't have happened if you had been more careful."
"I had no way of cleaning the central shaft," she defended herself.
"You should have had a solution prepared in advance," he chided her. "And you should have noticed that you lost some fur there."
He was correct, of course, even though she hated to admit it. It was her fault. "Yes," she pressed out through her teeth.
He huffed. "And getting involved with him made it worse."
She knew that as well. "I didn't want to! It just happened!" Which was the truth.
Mr Fletcher shook his head. "What's done is done. But I don't like this. I don't like this at all. We need a plan that he can't foil if he tries."
That would mean deceiving him again. Luring him somewhere, distracting him or even drugging him for the heist's duration. Hermione shook her head. "No. We can't do that to him." She wouldn't sacrifice Harry for this.
"You don't have to be involved," Sirius said. "Don't worry, he doesn't know about you."
"He knows I was trained by a thief, but he doesn't know your identity," Hermione nodded at Mr Fletcher as she corrected Sirius. And even if the worst happened, they would be able to warn Mr Fletcher so he could avoid being arrested.
Mr Fletcher shook his head. "You need to sort this out. Otherwise, this heist is doomed. And not just because of Potter's meddling, but because you two can't think straight right now." He tapped Malfoy's picture in the article. "Fortunately, you still have time for that - I'll have to make a few inquiries about our mark's habits before we can proceed with the next part."
Hermione stepped on Sirius's foot when he opened his mouth. The last thing she wanted was another row between the two men. She was feeling miserable enough already with the other half of her family falling apart.
Mr Fletcher grinned - he had noticed that, of course - and left their base.
Sirius frowned at her. "That was unnecessary."
"Sorry." She didn't really mean it.
He sighed. "But the guttersnipe is correct - we need to set things straight."
"Harry isn't talking to us." Jeanne had talked to him, but Hermione wasn't sure whether that hadn't made things worse.
"He will."
She didn't share his optimism. "Eventually." Probably.
After a moment, Sirius went on: "I'll take the blame."
"What?" She stared at him.
"It's my fault. I told you not to tell him." He smiled thinly.
"I decided to go along with it," she said. "I decided to get involved with him, even though I knew better." Secrets had destroyed her relationship with Paul. Well, secrets and his attitude. And she had enjoyed outdoing Harry. Quite a bit.
"You would have told him without me, though."
"And without Jeanne and Mr Fletcher," she pointed out.
He shrugged. "He would have been fine, and Jeanne wouldn't have minded."
Hermione agreed with that - although she suspected that Jeanne would have done something rather… French… if Harry had posed a threat to her family. And might still attempt to do so, if things grew worse.
Sirius shook his head. "No. It was my mistake, and I'll shoulder the blame for this." He nodded at her with a lopsided grin that reminded her of the dog. And with rather wet eyes.
She nodded, feeling both relieved and guilty about Sirius's plan. And sacrifice. And worried whether it would be enough for her to save her relationship with Harry.
*****
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, February 7th, 1999
"Harry?"
On his bed, on the part not taken up by Crookshanks, who apparently still thought that this was his room, Harry Potter looked up from the book he wasn't reading. That was Sirius. And Harry didn't want to talk to his godfather. "I'm busy," he replied without getting up or opening the door.
"Good." And Sirius opened the door.
Harry narrowed his eyes. "That usually means that I don't want to be bothered," he snapped. Least of all by Sirius.
"Tough." Sirius closed the door and cast a few privacy charms.
Harry sat up and crossed his arms. "This is my room."
"I wouldn't be here if it were someone else's," Sirius replied as he conjured a chair for himself. But he sighed right away. "Sorry. Didn't want to sound so…"
"...Sirius?"
His godfather flinched. "I guess." He took a deep breath. "I came to apologise. I should have told you from the start. And I should have listened to Hermione when she wanted to tell you."
Harry scoffed. "She should have told me anyway." She shouldn't have valued his godfather more than him.
"Did you really expect her to?" Sirius shook his head. "Betray me, Jeanne and her mentor? After all we went through?"
Harry glared at him. "After all your heists, you mean."
"More or less." Sirius shrugged. "I taught her how to become an animagus, too. I would have taught you as well, but you were learning Occlumency…"
"You taught her?" Harry had thought she had learned that from her mentor.
"Yes." Sirius looked at him. "I'm a dog."
Harry pressed his lips together. Another secret. "No wonder she's…"
"I also saved her life."
"What?" Harry blurted out, then snapped his mouth shut. He didn't want to hear about this. Not really.
"Yes." Sirius nodded, looking at the wall behind Harry. "We were breaking into that vampire's den. This was back when we were still inexperienced. And the vampire wasn't asleep - caught her by surprise and took out her teacher. He was about to bite her when I got him."
Harry resisted the urge to curse. If he had known about that…
Sirius nodded. "Yes, Dumbledore's missions were dangerous."
"She shouldn't have been doing them," Harry snapped. She shouldn't have been trained as a thief in the first place!
Sirius had the gall to chuckle. "I would have liked to see anyone try to stop her from being involved - the missions were for you, after all."
Harry gasped - he couldn't help it. "You know?"
Sirius shrugged with a faint grin on his face. "Who do you think stole all the blood magic grimoires for Dumbledore?" He shook his head before Harry could say anything. "But that doesn't make my mistake any better. I should have told you. I thought I knew best what was best for you, and I was wrong. And I made everyone follow my lead."
"You didn't put them under the Imperius Curse," Harry retorted.
"I didn't have to. I paid her debts. I restored her family's home. I saved her life. I helped her get revenge on those who wronged her. What kind of witch do you think she would be if she could ignore all that?"
Harry didn't want to answer that. She should have told him anyway. He huffed.
"Do you think Ron's to blame for not arresting us?"
Harry glared at his godfather. Ron was his best friend. He wouldn't betray him like that. Unlike... He closed his eyes and sighed.
"I understand why you did it." And why she hadn't told him. Even though she should have. "But that doesn't mean I can forget it." Or trust him. Them. Her. It still hurt. A lot.
"I didn't expect you to," Sirius said. But his expression told Harry that Sirius had hoped he would. After a few seconds, he continued: "We're planning to rob Malfoy Manor."
"I know." Harry ground his teeth. "It's wrong." It was a crime.
"So's blood magic."
Harry glared at him. "It's not the same."
"But it's close enough. And the principle is the same." Sirius stood. "It'll be her last heist, you know. If you ask her to stop. She'll do anything for you."
Harry snorted. Anything but telling him the truth about herself. He closed his eyes as Sirius opened the door.
"Harry?"
That was Hermione standing in the doorway, looking at him. He sat up and glared at her. He couldn't bear another talk. Not now. Not here. Not her.
She flinched in the doorway. "I'm sorry. I should have told you. And I shouldn't have enjoyed playing with you on our heists. I'm sorry." She sniffled. Once.
He managed to nod, curtly, in response.
"Will you try to stop us from robbing Malfoy?"
'Try to'. He glared at her, but she didn't flinch this time. "What choice do I have? It's you or Malfoy." He scoffed. Even if he followed the law, it would only lead to Malfoy breaking and bending it as he pleased. "I hate it!" he snapped, baring his teeth.
She nodded and left.
He closed his eyes and laid back down on his bed, dislodging the fat cat on his pillow. He couldn't win. He had tried, he had done his best, and he couldn't win. Not without breaking the law.
And that failure hurt more than anything she had done.
*****
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