A Matter of Honor
by Amy McWilliams (McAmy)

Book 2: Honor Bound

Chapter 3: The First Strike

Hermione sat at the breakfast table with Hazel, sipping her tea and looking through her mail. A few university notices; a note from Professor O'Brien about the History of Magic tutorial he'd asked her to lead, helping some of the other students review for the final exam; a letter from Professor McGonagall--but before she could open this, she saw a familiar scrawl on the last envelope.

It was a letter from Harry.

She tore it open. Harry had been so busy in his Auror training that he rarely wrote. Not that she was any better. She quickly scanned the two pages and then returned to read them through more carefully.

Dear Hermione,

How are you? Things are fine here, but I miss you and Ron. I know you're well--I could tell from your last letter that you're enjoying classes there even more than you enjoyed them at Hogwarts--and that's saying something, isn't it.

Have you heard from Ron recently? He writes less often than you, but Ginny and Mrs. Weasley tell me in their letters that he's doing fine. (Fred and George seem to be making a go of their new business, by the way. If you want to order anything, you should write them at The Burrow. Mrs. Weasley complains that they're still living there, but we all know that she doesn't mind at all. Percy's moved to London for his job.) Anyway, I got a note from him only once since training started, and it was mostly about Charlie and dragons--and a mention of Bill, who came round to visit once shortly after Ron got out there. But he seemed…I dunno…he seemed different. Anyway, I don't mean to worry you. I'm sure he'll sort out whatever it is. Maybe he's just homesick

Speaking of, I sure miss Hogwarts more than I thought I would. I mean, I knew I would miss it, and I knew I would miss the two of you, but…it's so strange not being there. I think about what they must be doing every once in a while, like keeping the calendar in my head. What are you doing for Christmas? I don't want to go to the Dursleys' (not that I'm invited), natch, so I thought I might come to see you for part of the break--I've got about a week. Let me know. I've been invited to the Weasleys' for the actual day, etc. But I'd like to see you too.

Right, so Auror training is brilliant, and fun--but don't tell anybody I said so. We're supposed to be serious. Glasgow is beautiful, and though I'd still rather have gone to London for training, I think Dumbledore was right to ask me to go here instead. There are rumors that something's going on, but they don't tell us anything. If you and Ron were here, we'd figure it out for ourselves!

Better go,
All my love,
Harry

Hermione smiled. While she was a little concerned about Ron, based on what Harry had written, she agreed that he'd sort it out. And Harry was well and happy, and that made her happy too.

"Here we go, dear," Hazel announced, "more toast. And do you need another spot of tea to warm your cup?"

Hermione shook her head, "No thanks. I just got a letter from Harry--he's doing fine."

"Oh, that's good to hear," said Hazel. "You should have him round to visit sometime. I'd love to meet him."

"Actually," teased Hermione, "he mentioned Christmas, and I was wondering if you'd allow me to have a guest, just this once. I'll go home for a few days right at the holidays, but I'll be staying here through most of the break, and I wanted to invite Harry to come for a bit."

"That would be lovely!" said Hazel.

Hermione smiled. It was going to be a Happy Christmas indeed.

Harry was due in the next day. Hermione had come back from her parents' house on the 27th, and was spending a belated Christmas with Bill and Greg. She'd bought Greg a copy of Jane Eyre, so that he wouldn't keep borrowing hers, and found a "Kiss the Cook" apron for Bill. They had bought her a box of gorgeous linen parchment and some beautiful sapphire blue ink. "For all those love letters you write," teased Bill, as Greg kissed her on the cheek.

As they took their places in front of the television for the double feature of It's a Wonderful Life and White Christmas, there was a knock at the door.

"Who on earth could that be," asked Bill, setting down his martini and going to the door. He was still wearing the apron. Greg and Hermione turned their heads to look as he opened the door to reveal a slender, handsome man. "Why, hello, Mister Naughty and Nice…" Bill began, but Hermione jumped to her feet and interrupted him.

"Remus! Gods, what are you doing here?" When she saw his face, she froze in her tracks. "What's wrong?" she asked, suddenly fearful.

"If I could come in for a moment…" Remus began, and Bill waved him into the room. Greg had come around the sofa as well, a look of concern on his face. "Perhaps we could go somewhere to talk?" Remus asked Hermione.

She glanced at Greg. "Unless it's…a secret, Remus, Greg and Bill can hear. They're good friends."

"All right, then," Remus said, as Greg motioned him to a chair by the fire and Bill took his cloak. "I'm afraid I must skip the introductions and tell you why I've come. I can't stay long; I'm needed back at Hogwarts."

Greg and Bill stood near the door as Hermione sat down on the sofa. "It's bad, isn't it?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"Yes," answered Remus. "But not as bad as it could be."

"Was she all right?" Minerva met Remus in the entry hall. It was clear she'd waited up for him.

"She took it better than I expected. Is there news on Harry yet?"

"He's fine," McGonagall assured him. "Sirius sent an owl to say so, and is staying in Glasgow to keep an eye on him."

Remus sighed in relief. "And Snape?" he asked, feeling less sure of the answer.

"He is…resting in his own rooms. We asked him to stay in the hospital wing so that Poppy could watch over him, but…"

"He would refuse, the stubborn old bat." But there was no malice in his tone, only concern.

As they walked towards Dumbledore's office, McGonagall concern returned to Hermione. "She had no warning, poor dear. But you told her Harry was safe?"

Remus nodded. "I told her that from all reports, he was, and that we'd owl her when we had confirmation from Sirius." He paused, unsure. "She wanted to go to him. But I convinced her not to."

Minerva sighed. "No, she'll be safest at Hazel's. I don't know for certain that she's in danger, but it's best that we not take chances."

"Agreed. And it's for the best that Ron is away in Romania just now."

McGonagall nodded.

He continued, "And have we heard any more from London?"

She shook her head. "Albus was threatening to go to the Ministry himself, earlier--Fudge is trying to cover it all up, you know."

"Gods…" muttered Remus.

McGonagall continued, "I don't know how he thinks that he can explain away that much destruction--that many deaths…" she faltered.

Remus put an arm around her shoulders. "It'll be all right. We'll make sure of it."

She looked up at him and nodded as they arrived at the door.

Hermione--

Remus told me about his visit with you. I know that you are worried, but it will be best for you to stay at school. We are watching over Harry, and will let you know if anything happens.

Do be careful, dear, and if for any reason you fear for your own safety, go to Professor Bedford. She can and will protect you.

Yours truly,
Minerva McGonagall

Hermione tossed the letter onto the desk. "Right," she said to Crookshanks. "They'll let me know if something happens, but they won't tell me what's going on in the meantime." She knew she was being unfair, that they couldn't tell her, but it still made her angry to be kept in the dark.

Harry was safe, for now, but she knew that Voldemort would not give up after his raid on the Ministry's London headquarters. Would not give up on Harry.

The Ministry was trying desperately to reassure the wizarding community that everything was under control. Stories in The Daily Prophet went so far as to suggest that this action might have been the work of rogue Death Eaters, rather than Voldemort himself. ("Must have gotten that idea from the report they covered up about the attempt to kidnap Harry last year," Hermione noted with a scowl.)

It wasn't the end of the bad news, though. And they didn't have to wait for Voldemort to make his next move. While Cornelius Fudge might try to spin the situation into something manageable, most people were starting to believe that there was more going on than he was saying. And he couldn't hide the number of deaths, or the names of the dead, missing, and wounded that ran in the Prophet two days after the raid.

Seamus Finnegan was dead.

Hermione couldn't believe it. Sitting at the breakfast table with Hazel bustling around making tea, she read the name three times before it sank in. "Oh Gods," she had said, too stunned to cry, and Hazel simply sat with her and held her hand.

At the funeral, Hermione sat with Harry in between Dean and Neville, her head bowed. She had yet to cry; she wasn't sad, she was in shock. She was angry. Scared to death, and angry. She took hold of Harry's hand halfway through the service and didn't let it go until they left the church.

"Hermione, are you all right?" Harry asked when he saw her face.

She looked up at him. "It's not right, Harry. It's just not right."

He nodded. "But it's more than Seamus, isn't it?"

She looked away.

Harry touched her arm. "Hermione, tell me what's wrong."

Tears welled in her eyes as she said, "I…I feel horrible…but…I keep thinking…" She turned away from him, and softly finished, "I'm just thankful that it wasn't you."

He turned her to him and hugged her then, and she buried her face his shoulder.

"All right, love?" asked Bill, as he entered with the groceries. Hermione nodded weakly, and Greg got up to help Bill with the bags. It had been three weeks since the funeral, and school was back in session. Hermione was moving through her days like a sleepwalker, not registering most of what was going on around her.

Greg and Bill were worried. They'd never seen her like this, and they didn't know what to do. She spent most of her evenings at their house, and they encouraged it. At least that way they knew she was eating. Meanwhile, her parents had written; they had heard something of what had happened from Neville's grandmother, and had asked Hermione to come home. She wouldn't even read their letter, and Greg had written what he hoped was a comforting response.

Greg brought her some tea. "Here, have a cuppa. Guaranteed to make you feel better." Hermione took the mug without comment.

As the couple started to make dinner, there was a rustling at the window. When they didn't respond, Hermione slowly turned to look. She started. As if waking up from a deep sleep, she moved to let in the owl who was hovering outside.

The large black owl with the white spot on its ruff flew in and settled on the arm of the sofa. Hermione quickly took the note from his leg and opened it, not noticing that Greg had poked his head around the corner to see what the noise had been.

"Bloody heck, that's a scary looking owl," he said, but Hermione did not respond. She stroked Mordred's head as she read the letter.

Dear Miss Granger,

Since I haven't heard from you recently, I can only assume that the beginning of the term finds you as busy as I am. I hope that your experiments are proceeding apace; in light of recent events, any progress we make may be of help.

I wished also to offer my condolences for your loss. I know that you were friends with Mr. Finnigan at Hogwarts, and that you mourn for him now. Perhaps you will forgive a callous man for offering some well-intentioned advice: when the pain and fear are too much to bear, work has always helped me to recover my equilibrium.

But then, I'm sure Ron Weasley would tell you that you have always been more balanced than me.

Sincerely,
Prof. Severus Snape

As she read, Hermione sunk to the edge of the sofa. When she finished, she slid to the floor, pulled her knees to her chest, and began to cry. Mordred fluttered down to her shoulder and huddled against her neck. Greg went back to the kitchen, knowing now that she would be all right.

On to Chapter 4