Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Here we are. Someone was supposed to come by and clean it last week but, you know how rotations tend to go.” Lupin shrugged as he adjusted his grasp on Hermione’s trunk. “No one’s been here since … well you, I suppose. Is there any hope you three left it very tidy?”

Hermione took in the small house in front of her, a rush of memories flitting across her mind as she remembered the last time she had seen the place with Harry and Ron. She didn’t linger on the more recent painful memories, sifting through for older, somewhat happier ones. When they were on the run, after Grimmauld was compromised, the Order managed to find another safe house option. The one she now stood in front of. Moody had offered it up, though it was never determined if it belonged to him or to someone he knew.

(Hermione suggested to the boys that it may have belonged to a former lover of the crotchety Auror perhaps was their rendezvous location. When the three of them were very bored they would spend the afternoon deciding who this lover was and how Moody had fallen in love with them. Hermione’s favorite was a scenario where Moody lost his eye whilst saving his lover, but once he had his new magical eye she couldn’t stand how many of her secrets were laid bare to him and so she left. Harry and Ron found her story too romantic and sad. Their story of choice starred a woman with a hunchback and an eye that always cried. They named her Sad-Eye. Hermione preferred the romance, though the memory of Sad-Eye still made her laugh.)

“If I remember correctly, we left in a hurry, but it shouldn’t be too bad.” She couldn’t actually recall, but the memory of their laughter hurt enough for her to not want to dwell on, focusing instead on the house in front of her.

The house was tucked away between clusters of trees at the edge of the forest. There was no road or driveway and if muggles stumbled upon it, she’d imagine they would be quite confused how it even got there. She remembered her own confusion at the first few safe houses she had seen. It wasn’t until the third house that she realized it looks so odd to her because of the missing drive. Of course, no muggles would be seeing this house because its perimeter was excessively secured with wards and charms. Not only muggle repelling, but wizards too remembered somewhere else they needed to be if they came within the boundaries of the small yard. The house sat in the middle of a clearing. Crookshanks would enjoy the porches and large windows. Her heart beat a bit faster, a tangle of emotions. She had been forced into adulthood at a young age, but this felt like a first step towards a normal adult life. A home that was hers for the foreseeable future, as far as a safe house of the Order’s was “at least hers” . More than hers a shared room or couch (usually not shared) to crash for a few nights at least.

“It looks like I remembered. Small, but big enough for the three of us. We spent a lot on time on the front porch. It was nice to be outdoors after being cooped up in Grimmauld, we didn’t know we would end up spending a few weeks camping I guess.” Crookshanks wiggled in her hold, cutting off any additional observations she may have offered. She set him down, allowing him to explore his new surroundings in the way he liked best, by disturbing all the birds and capturing a vole or two.

“Shall we?” Lupin’s ask was rhetorical as he immediately started moving towards the front door, directing a trunk behind him with his wand, giving up his attempts to carry it. Hermione followed close behind.

“I’ll set up the Floo before I leave. I’ll only connect it to Grimmauld for now. It’s easy enough to anyone to Floo there before heading here, then I’ll resecure the anti-apparation wards. They were dismantled this morning for our arrival. Figured it was easier with the trunks and all.” The front door opened for them, creaking loudly as it did. The trunks dropped to the floor loudly as soon as they were over the threshold. “Did you add an expansion spell to your trunk? I swear it’s the weight of an entire library.”

Hermione stepped past him, smiling slightly and taking in the room. “Not a whole library, just one wall.”

“Are there any books even left at Grimmauld?”

“I only brought my own books from my room.” She replied, taking in the small space around her. Stairs to an upper level greeted her as soon as she walked in with a fireplace stood to her left framed by built-in shelves, not far from the home in her head she had dreamed of owning one day. Not that she had gotten much further than dreaming about bookcases and a fireplace. The small kitchen was in the back right with another, smaller window above the sink, looking out on a small yard. She knew there were two bedrooms and a bath up the stairs and cupboard under them with a shelves and more stairs down to the small cellar below. The walls were covered in a combination of paint and wallpaper, both nondescript colors (Hermione would’ve sworn they were some shade a green but now they appeared more beige), both peeling to different degrees. But it looked less dingy than Grimmauld had the first time she’d seen it, perhaps thanks to the natural light. It needed windows opened and touch-ups more than a deep clean.

“Toby will be keeping your pantry stocked. Her wages have been adjusted to account for the additional work.” Lupin eyes moved around the single room, looking for something else to introduce to fill the silence. “I’ll go ahead and set up the Floo then.”

Hermione nodded and turned to look out the large back window near the fireplace, distractedly watching Crookshanks prance around the yard, their yard, her eyes following her cat without really seeing him. Lost in memories.

Harry walking the tree line, checking the wards.

Ron smoking on the steps, shuffling a worn deck of cards. 

“Hermione?” She turned quickly to Lupin standing before the fireplace. Judging by his furrowed brow she assumed he had been saying something she hadn’t heard.

“Yes?”

“Everything alright?”

“Yes, sorry, I was watching Crookshanks.”

Lupin’s eyes flitted to the window but she couldn’t bring herself to follow his view, worried that it was possible Crookshanks had wandered off and she had actually been staring at nothing.

“Hermione. You know you don’t have to stay here, at least not alone. Someone else can join you. Others are more than willing -“

“I’m fine being alone.”

“-Cormac has offered-“

“I prefer it actually.”

“-or perhaps Ginny.”

“No.” She willed her voice to remain firm and not break. “The Weasleys have … they’ve lost enough. I’ve been moved to a remote safe house because I am a risk to the Order. I don’t want anyone to be in danger because of me.”

“Ginny and all the Weasleys are members of the Order. They are already in danger every day and they understand the risks.”

“Proximity to me is a different kind of risk and we all know that. It is not only for my safety that I am moving here.” She glanced once more out the window to where she last saw Crookshanks before moving into the kitchen and opening the cabinet for a glass of water.

The wrong cabinet apparently. The glasses were kept to the right of the sink, at Grimmauld, but not here. Here they are two to the right. It hurt her a bit that her instincts didn’t immediately adjust. When the topic of her move arose, she insisted that this was where she wanted to move, where she’d feel safest, most at home. They hadn’t been here very long but, it was the last place it had been just them three, the last place they’d all been safe and together. Their time together at Grimmauld had always been tainted - an ache for Sirius combined with a portrait that screamed her hatred for Mudbloods made it hard to feel at home, to relax. Hermione had always held onto this house and the memories it held with a certain tenderness. Since Hogwarts, it had felt like her only home, but if an action so small as having opened the wrong cabinet filled her with such doubt, then perhaps she had been deceiving herself on the entire matter.

“Do you want something to drink?” She placed her glass on the counter and reached for another, she was never one for sitting in silences.

“I’ll take some water. Best to let the tap run for a bit.”

Hermione nodded, ensuring the glasses weren’t too dusty before setting them on the counter and turning on the tap. The pipes screamed and she turned away, preferring not to see the color of the first water.

“So … what exactly is the plan? How often will I hear from everyone? Will I come back for meetings?” Pursing her lips together she forced herself to listen to his responses, knowing it was unlikely they would align with anything she suggested yesterday, but still she had to ask, had to attempt this conversation again. Her ideas of how she could remain an active member of the Order had been soundly rejected. But maybe when it was just the two of them, Lupin would truly listen and be more lenient. He was the closest thing she currently had to a father figure. His rejection of her ideas hit the hardest.

“We will be in contact but no, you won’t be attending meetings. As I said before any of your friends are welcome to visit.” He paused here, seeming to think she would have a positive reaction to this, and continued when she did not. “Aside from any informal meetings, I will have a report sent to you weekly in addition to any important updates.”

Hermione watched as Crookshanks sniffed some weeds outside the window as she filled the glass with water. It tasted little metallic but it looked clear, hopefully the aftertaste would go away after the pipes got some use. She forced herself to drink half in another large swallow.

“I understand that I need to go into hiding but I still want to be involved. To help.”

“You are helping Hermione. Your research is -“

“Yes. I know. I - sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt I just …” Crookshanks pounced on something she couldn’t see but didn’t appear to catch it as he immediately began to prowl again.

“I know everyone assumes I’m content to read and study all day.” She exhaled a humorless laugh. “And I suppose they aren’t entirely wrong.” She took another sip to parch her suddenly dry mouth before placing the glass on the counter and, summoning what she was told at age eleven was her most defining trait, turned to face Lupin.

“But I cannot be completely cut off and made to wait. I need to be able to do something tangible, to see and feel how I am helping.”

“You are in danger-“

“Everyone is in danger. My risk may be greater but if there are ways for me to help I want to do it. I need to do it. I don’t want anyone else to be at risk by my presence, obviously. But there are ways to hide that.”

“Polyjuice takes too much time, too much monitoring.”

“I now have nothing but time.”

“There are things you are supposed to be spending your time doing. Your research is necessary. There are few who can be trusted with what you know, even within the Order, and even less who have your level of intelligence and knowledge. You have more than enough books to fill your days reading and researching things that will help us end this war.” He gestured broadly towards the empty bookshelves behind him.

“I cannot spend all my days reading.”

“I know for a fact you can.” He offered a smile that had her closing her eyes to avoid rolling them.

“Brewing will help me focus and get my energy out.” He didn’t reply so she pressed on. “Polyjuice is helpful for the Order as a whole. It doesn’t have to be used by me.” She’d make extra for herself, damn whatever the Order thought. She was sure Lupin suspected as much.

“I will discuss it with everyone.”

She didn’t hide this eyeroll and made a mental note to send a message to the source of the ingredients himself, one Neville Longbottom.

“Can I have an owl?”

“It might be too risky. Owls can be tracked.”

“How am I supposed to get messages out?”

“There’s Floo mail.”

Perhaps Lupin was onto her, suggesting an option that significantly lacked privacy, spitting your letters onto the living room for all occupants to see who was writing who. All it took was one barely flirtatious Floo mail from Cormac flying out of the fireplace and into an unusually crowded living room at Grimmauld landing on the lap of one Nymphadora Tonks to escalate a handful of nights inspired by firewhisky into the most scandalous love affair within the Order. Unfortunately, Tonks could never seem to let it go, nor could Cormac.

“I suppose owls could be permitted if the owl was rotated.”

“That’s what Sirius and Harry used to do.”

Lupin grunted, as if any mention of Sirius seemed to put him at a temporary loss of words.

Normally she would pick up on the cue and back off a bit, but today she felt exhausted and wrung out. Her pain wouldn’t be stopped by Lupin’s.

“It may do the Order good to remember Sirius. Someone else who was asked to stay safe and away from the danger no matter how much he begged to be involved.”

Lupin’s head snapped to attention, his eyes focusing on Hermione in a way that made her think of Crookshanks, how he focused before pouncing on his prey. Lupin was one of the gentler members of the Order. She didn’t know if he had always been that way or if he now did it consciously, overcompensating his humanity to make up for the primal werewolf in him. Now he stood, body rigid and shoulders tense, she noticed the veins running up his neck and wondered if the wolf was gaining ground on the man.

“That is enough.” Lupin snarled, his glass breaking with a loud crack, thought she wasn’t sure if it broke in his fist or from hitting the counter too hard. The combination of the noise and look on his face made her jump, back hitting the fridge as she reached for her wand, barely stopping herself from pulling it from her holster.

She wasn’t afraid of Lupin, had vowed to herself that she would not let herself fear him. Even in third year, the only time she had seen him in his werewolf form, she had worked to control the tremble in her voice as she tried to calm him. The world would try to shame him enough without her adding on to it. Any shame deserved to be carried by her for having pushed on his pain, not him at his reaction.

But she knew she had failed in hiding her fear when he froze so suddenly she thought for a moment that she had accidentally stunned him.

“Remus I -“

“No. I-I’m sorry Hermione. Please forgive me I shouldn’t have -“ He ran a shaky hand through his hair as he stared down at the floor, trying to collect himself. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice. And the glass …” He gave a half hearted flick of his wand, she wasn’t sure when he had pulled it out, and repaired the glass, sending the spilled water down the sink. He took a deep breath and placed his wand on the counter deliberately before opening his mouth for more apologies.

“You’re bleeding.” Hermione’s gaze had snagged on his hand resting on his wand and the drops of blood that was pooling on the countertop under his palm.

“Oh?” Lupin didn’t flinch, his gaze directed on the floor, somewhere near her shoes, though she had a feeling he wasn’t looking at anything.

“Here, let me.” She took a step towards him, pulling out her wand to perform a a quick healing charm. Before she could reach him though, he shook himself out of his trance and took a large step back.

“No. I - No - I’m fine.” He shook his head, pulling the sleeve of his sweater down as a makeshift bandage, pressing his sleeve into his bleeding palm.

Hermione felt a profound mixture of embarrassment and sadness. Seeing Lupin hide his injury with the sleeve of his sweater made him look young. He reminded her so much of Harry and Ron that she felt a tide of embarrassment for her professor mixed with the longing for her childhood friends and their boyish tendencies. She pulled back her wand and gaze, fighting back the tears that threatened her eyes. She wasn’t sure why they were showing up but she was certain that they were unwanted. She turned, once again, to look out the window at Crookshanks.

“I’ll get you the potion ingredients that you need.”

She winced. A moment ago she would’ve celebrated this win. Now all she felt was regretful, a common theme with her, to believe that she is right and ends up trampling over the feelings others. Many times it had been worth it, for the greater good and all that, but there have been detrimental times that it is not. She had worried that spending her childhood fighting in a war have made her a bit numb to feelings, both hers and others. Now she’s moved past worried and onto acceptance.

“Thank you.” She bites back the inclination to back down from her request now that she feels guilt, attempting a rushed apology to assuage it. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-“

“You aren’t the one who needs to apologize.” Lupin absentmindedly touches the scar of his face, his fingers lingering on it as if he’s attempting to make it less noticeable. Hermione focused on her hands to give him a moment of privacy. Her nails look atrocious, maybe she should use her new free time to do something about that.

“I’ll get the ingredients to you.” Lupin repeats himself, his hand still not so subtly covering his scar. “Is anyone planning to visit you?”

“No I - I wasn’t sure the circumstances and if it would be allowed.”

“Since when do you only do what’s allowed?”

She caught the teasing for what it was, a peace offering.

“Fair point, but no I didn’t make plans.”

Nodding he moved toward the fireplace. “Then I’ll send them with Ginny or Neville most likely. I’m guessing they will be your most frequent visitors?” Hermione’s noncommittal response encouraged him to keep going. “Or perhaps Corm-“

“Ginny or Neville will be the most frequent, yes.” Hermione cuts him off and finds her obvious embarrassment to a small equalizer and thus a relief.

Lupin chuckles, arriving before the fireplace and reaching for the Floo powder he had placed earlier. “Very well, very well.” He considers the powder in his hand for a moment before exhaling to brace himself and turning around to look her in the eye. “Will you be okay alone here Hermione? We agree that this is the safest place for you, but if you don’t feel safe we can spare someone to stay with you.”

She swallows back the emotions that threatened, unsure she wants to be alone. Most of her childhood was spent alone until she received her Hogwarts letter. She spent the rest of her life surrounded by fellow Gryffindors and her two best friends. Even over breaks she rarely went home or spent time with her parents and most of the time spent a home was passed with letters she wrote to Ron and Harry, keeping them informed on her every day, regardless of their lack of reply.

Over one break, her mother lightly pushed her into expanding her friends at school. Asking after other students she had heard Hermione mention.

“What about Lavender?”

“She only wants to talk about boys.”

“Do you not like boys?”

“Mommmmm. It’s not that. I just want to talk about other things.”

“What about Neville?”

“As a boy or a friend?”

“Either?”

“Maybe a boy or maybe a friend?”

“I-I don’t know. Next.”

“Parvati sounded nice.”

“She’s always with her sister.”

“Who’s the other one? Malloy? You’re always talking about him.”

“I don’t know - oh MalFOY? Ugh. No. I hate him. You never listen to me…”

Her mother’s suggestions that Ron and Harry may not always be there for her came out of the idea that one day there would be significant others who took Hermione’s place in their lives. She hadn’t been worried about their deaths at the hand of a sadistic dark wizard. Either way, maybe she should have taken her mother’s advice.

“I will be fine. I have Crookshanks and I do quite well being alone.”

Lupin nodded. The proud smile he offered before he throws the powder into the fire only makes her feel worse, as if her ability to be alone is some kind of a gift and not something she has had to learn to accept.

With a flair of green light, she’s alone again.

As soon as she’s alone Hermione throws her hair up and gets to work. Being busy has always been her preferred way to deal with any unwanted emotions. Soon her trunks are levitating around the main level and the up the stairs at a dangerously fast speed, a benefit of living alone (one of many, she’s sure). Once the boxes have found their appropriate rooms she settles on putting away her books first. While it’s not the highest priority it is the one she’s most looking forward to completing and that counts for something. Half a bookshelf is sorted before she decides the crackling fire is not nearly enough noise and she goes to the cellar to pull out the radio she knows is there. A tap of her wand turns it on and she’s happy to find it already tuned to PhoenixWatch (a recent name change). The station has evolved to nearly 24/7 news, even when sometimes it’s simply news articles being read, a healthy mix of the Prophet and Quibbler. She finds Lee’s belief in sharing healthy mix of what both sides’ reports to be refreshing.

She loses herself in the familiar voice and the attention it takes to alphabetize her books. At Grimmauld she had them categorized first by genre and secondly by the authors’ surnames, but for now she’ll make it easier on herself. Finished putting her books away, she moves to go upstairs when it dawns on her that Crookshanks has been outside this whole time. Crookshanks, her loyal familiar and now the friend who knows her the best. (She’ll allow that fact to be sweet instead of pathetic.) He is an independent feline and it wasn’t unusual that Hermione wouldn’t see him for a day or more. She had always bragged about his independence though recently it had made her a bit sad, but what else did one expect of a cat. He was particularly in-tune with her feelings and if she truly needed him he would be there. But how could he be there for her, when he was currently stuck outside.

She walked to the back of the house, opening the door and stepping onto the back porch.

“Crooks!” Her eyes skipped across the grass and just barely spotted his tail, swaying back and forth above the grass that needed to be cut. She’d have to look up a charm, perhaps Neville could help her or she’d ask Cormac to come over. She minded bossing Neville around more than she did Cormac, maybe because she knew the latter enjoyed it.

“Crooks!” She moved to the edge of the porch, her eyes narrowing on her cat ignoring her. Though independent, he was typically responsive and obedient when she called him. She could count on one hand the amount of times that he had ignored her, most of which were during third year. His tail continues to sway, a flitting orange cattail peeking out above the faded green grass, showing a predatory focus she seen in Lupin earlier. Her gaze followed what seemed to be his line of sight to the trees that circled the yard. She squinted looking into the forest beyond. The fading light added to the difficulty of seeing into the trees. Hermione went to walk down the few steps leading into the yard, her hand on the wooden railing while her eyes remained on the forest, when she stopped suddenly, her foot hanging in the air.

Something shifted in the forest. A shadow.

Instincts took over. She pulled out her wand, calling Crookshanks name again, the sound of the panic in her voice making her pulse speed up.

Ever the intuitive familiar, Crookshanks jumped up and darted back to Hermione who had already thrown open the screen door, holding it open until he darted in, when she then slammed it shut, turning the lock so forcefully that she caught her own nail, bending it back.

Once the door was secured, she took a step back and breathed, looking out onto the yard.

She saw … nothing.

Another deep breath to slow her pulse and then she moved to look out one of the back windows, focusing on the tree line where she swore she saw something.

Inhale. Exhale.

A shadow darted towards the forest’s edge - a squirrel. It ran down a tree and she watched its tail switch, its nose in the air, likely trying to determine if he was in the clear from the menacing cat.

Hermione sighed. She watched the squirrel and the forest for another minute as her heart slowed to beat normally once again before she decided she was overreacting, scolding herself. It wasn’t like her to jump to conclusions and she would know if something was bumping up against the wards. The only predator nearby was loyal to her, of that she was certain.

“Are you hungry Crooks?”

She avoided looking out the windows again until the next day when the sun was bright and shining in the sky, ignoring the pestering thought in the back of her mind that the shadow she saw was too large to be a squirrel. A long time ago she had promised herself she would not let the shadows spook her and she was determined to keep that promise.