The Rope Tightens

A/N - Nothing but the thin padding of plot is mine, don't sue me, I have no money and nothing you'd want. Thanks to all of you who reviewed my last chapter ^_^

In any case, the plot thickens....

Chapter Two – The Rope Tightens

Hermione's vision was fuzzy as she struggled to sit up straight. She glanced around quickly, the faces looming over her still obscured. She had somehow made it to the faded red leather couch in front of the window. Dumbledore's face was above hers, the blue eyes sparkling with concern; also crowding her field of vision was the round, pink-cheeked face of Mrs. Weasley, the thinner, optically bedecked face that she recognized as Harry's, and the smiling face of Ginny Weasley, determinedly brushing her tomato-colored locks out of her eyes.

"Oh thank heavens!" Mrs. Weasley intoned, her face contorting in relief. "Arthur, she's awake. Hermione dear, how are you? Does your head hurt? What happened? Do you have any bumps or bruises? Let me see--"

"Oh, honestly, Molly, stop fussing," a deep voice hissed from across the room. "She fell two feet, from a chair onto a carpet. She's fine."

Every face in her field of vision moved away to crane around to see Professor Snape. He was still standing in front of the fireplace – for all she knew, he'd never moved – staring deep into the now crackling embers.

"You're awfully assured of her health, Severus, considering you were the first to rush and lift her to the couch," Tonks piped up while inflating the size of her ears for Ginny's amusement. Snape growled low in his throat, like an animal on the attack, but, as Tonks had merely smiled innocently, he said nothing and returned his gaze to the fire.

"Now, Miss Granger," Dumbledore started, gently offering a hand to help her back into the chair in front of the desk, "much as the subject displeases me, we need to discuss your options regarding the letters you have received this evening."

Hermione bit her lip to stifle a sob. "What can be done? I mean, surely, I can't be expected to marry ..."

"Well, much as we'd like to keep that from happening, I personally cannot ascertain that there is any way to avoid it. The law in its entirety is very thorough. As a person of non-magical parentage, the only way for you to avoid its effects would be either to leave Britain or to leave the magical community as a whole."

The words fell in the room like a stone. Ginny had stopped fidgeting with her hair, Mrs. Weasley gasped and fell into silence, and Harry merely looked helplessly at Hermione, who avoided his gaze all together.

A squeaking sob escaped her lips before she bit it back, but she rallied her spirits as much as possible. "Not terribly favorable options. I cannot leave Britain and I will not leave the magical world. So I suppose I have to ..." But she couldn't finish the statement.

"Now, Miss Granger, don't be hasty. You have ten days with which to respond to the proposal. In the meantime, we can hope for a better one, as well as do some serious thinking to come up with a better plan. As for now, I urge you strongly to get some rest. The journey must have been wearying for you, and the subject matter has not helped. Mr. Potter, if you and Miss Weasley would please escort Miss Granger to her room, I would like to ensure she is steady on her feet."

Hermione nodded, unable to come up with any other response to the situation. Harry and Ginny stationed themselves on either side of Hermione and walked with her, in silence, up the stairs to her room.

*****

Once in the silence of her room, Hermione flopped onto the bed without so much as removing her shoes. Ginny bustled around in the room for a moment or two – having had, in hushed tones, insisted that Harry leave them alone – on the assumption that Hermione may wish to divulge some of the hurt she must be feeling. When Hermione said nothing, Ginny contented herself with forcefully removing Hermione's shoes and, when the older girl showed no other signs of movement, throwing a comforter over her to ward off the draft.

Hermione remained face down on the bed, her head turned away from the door, staring at the wall. A few minutes after Ginny finally gave up and left the room, Hermione let the well of frustrated tears come. She had tried her best not to be hysterical in the presence of Dumbledore and Snape, but she could do no such thing now. Dumbledore's words had not a hint of the reassurance and careful planning that she had hoped for, and now it seemed that the only choice in front of her was to marry Draco Malfoy.

Hermione's body hiccupped fitfully as she lay crying, and eventually she fell into a dreamless, yet restless sleep.

******

When Hermione awoke the next morning, sun was streaming through the window across the room, striping the floor in dark bands as a result of the deep blue curtains shielding the major portion of the glass. From what she could tell, the hour must be somewhat late, considering the fact that it was full sunlight and Ginny was no longer in her bed. Hermione rose quickly and dressed, chiding herself for lingering, as she knew quite well that Ginny was a notoriously late sleeper.

It must be very late indeed, she chided herself again.

On her way down the stairs she bumped, quite literally, into Neville, who was emerging from Harry and Ron's room, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Neville," she said, stifling a yawn, "I didn't know you stayed here for the night."

He grinned in response, yawning himself, and responded, "Well, Gran was here for quite a bit last night, and I fell asleep in the kitchen. I woke up at about four a.m., and they said she'd left around midnight. Apparently, she trusted that there'd be extra places for me to sleep."

Hermione chuckled, warming to the good nature of the last of the Longbottoms. Neville may be a bit inept and somewhat twittery at times, but Hermione was quite certain that there wasn't much that the young man couldn't smile at. He was determinedly good-natured.

"Feeling better today than you were yesterday, I trust?" Neville inquired as they made their way down to the kitchen.

"Well," she began tentatively, "for now. I have a better outlook, I suppose."

Neville nodded and held the doors open for her as they made their way into the kitchen. There were a few scattered members of the Order still crowded around the remnants of last night's meeting notes. Tonks – whose hair was a deep brown and piled on top of her head today – and Lupin were seated at the long wooden table, cups of coffee settled between them, chatting animatedly about a Ministry confrontation that Tonks had thwarted the previous night.

"Not my best performance, but I did accomplish what I set out to do, so I suppose that doesn't matter. Wotcher, Hermione, Neville!" She reclined in the chair, looking fully satisfied with herself, just before losing her balance and tumbling backwards, headfirst. Neville rushed around the table to attempt to catch her chair before it hit the floor, but caught his toe on the edge of the table leg and ended up sprawled on the floor, Tonks – still in her chair – on top of him.

She scrambled to roll off of the chair and right it before helping Neville to his feet. "Sorry there, mate. But thanks anyhow."

Neville shrugged and flushed crimson. "I tried."

Hermione smiled at the interplay but said nothing. Between the two of them, she surmised they could accidentally tear the house down. Mrs. Weasley was bustling about the fireplace, tending to breakfast, and very quickly set a bowl of porridge in front of Hermione.

"Tea, dear?" In answer to the shaking of Hermione's head, she continued, "Juice? What about some hot cocoa?"

"I'm fine, thanks, Mrs. Weasley."

Hermione set about eating her breakfast determinedly, not managing to come up with any conversation. Her head was still buzzing with the possibilities discussed the previous evening.

Possibilities indeed, Hermione thought with a scowl. Not very bright on the possibilities scale.

Her face must have belied some of her inner turmoil because Remus leaned over and rested a hand gently on top of her right wrist. "Don't worry," he said lightly, "we'll come up with something. Dumbledore's made it top priority for the Order to deal with."

She looked up into his eyes in surprise. "The Order? What does my impending marriage have to do with the Order?"

"Oh, do think, Miss Granger," came a voice from behind her. She wheeled around to see Professor Snape sitting by himself in a corner, cradling a cup of coffee. She wasn't quite sure how someone could make drinking coffee look arrogant, but somehow, he accomplished it.

"You are a Gryffindor, to many people's dismay. You also happen to be one of the stooges closest to Mr. Potter. Can you not think of any reason why young Master Malfoy," he spat the words with obvious disgust, "would have an interest in you?"

Hermione looked from Snape's searing eyes to Remus's gentle gaze. "Prof..." she began, then corrected herself, "Remus, what could Malfoy want with me?"

"Well, Hermione, you happen to be close to Harry, as Severus has mentioned. So it's possible that they could be interested in you to get to him. It's also possible that the Death Eaters, Lucius Malfoy of course being one of their number, could be interested in rubbing out any Muggle-borns, especially those connected to Harry. But aside from all that, it's entirely possible that Lucius Malfoy happens to recognize you as the perfect invigoration for a weakening genetic line."

She scowled deeply and shot an angry stare at Snape as he snorted derisively at Lupin's final remark. "What do you mean?" she asked Remus.

He smirked as he looked back at her, but his face became serious again. "Well, you're intelligent, quick, powerful and virile. With the exception of powerful, that is everything that the Malfoys aren't. You'd be a perfect choice when producing an heir."

"An heir..." she began, but stopped. She had passed over the final clause of the law when she had originally read it. She had been so distraught at being forced to marry at the age of 18 that bearing children hadn't even entered her mind. But now, as she considered it, she shuddered from head to toe with the ideas of what such an intimate relationship with a Malfoy would entail.

"Oh god ..." she moaned quietly.

Remus laid his hand on her wrist again. "Don't worry, we won't let it come to that. I'm sure Dumbledore will come up with something."

*****

It wasn't until later that evening that Hermione found out just what it was that Dumbledore had come up with. He had breezed in just after dinner and, with a terribly grave face, called upon the entire assembled party to join him in the study. Hermione trooped in with the rest, feeling as if her stomach had settled somewhere around her kneecaps.

"By this point, I'm sure you all have been duly informed of Miss Granger's predicament. We can have no doubt that Lucius Malfoy's intentions on petitioning for Hermione are of the gravest and most ill intentions. So, measures must be taken to ensure that Miss Granger is safe."

Hermione looked around the room to find that all eyes were currently fixed on her, with the exception of Professor Snape, who was, again, staring deep into the fire. When Dumbledore began speaking again, Snape began to pace the room.

"Until something better can come along, my dear, we are going to do our best to stall the Ministry. You have eight days before your time runs out with Draco's proposal. On the evening of your seventh day, we are going to have one of the pureblood members of the Order petition for your hand."

Hermione felt herself blanch. She looked around the room. The male members of the Order were all old men!

Well, not really old, she argued with herself. But all of them at least as old as my father! Surely I cannot be expected to marry them?!

Dumbledore seemed to read her mind, and continued. "Now, we surely do not expect you to accept this proposition hastily. We merely intend to buy some time until a better plan can be established. On the last day of each ten-day period, we will have another wizard within the Order petition for your hand. If nothing else, it will give us some time to think."

For the first time, Snape spoke up. "It won't last long, Albus. After a month or so, they will see what is going on. Fudge cannot be put off for that long. We may even draw more suspicion by having such goings-on surrounding someone so closely connected to Potter."

Ron stood up suddenly, hurriedly crossing the room to kneel next to her and take Hermione's hand. "I'll petition for her."

Mrs. Weasley gasped, and the whole of the room suddenly seemed to radiate visible waves of tension.

"Ron, that may not be entirely wise," Mr. Weasley replied, the first daring enough to word the situation.

Ron rose behind Hermione's chair and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Why not? We're ... well, we're good friends and ... and I'd take care of her. Why shouldn't it be me?"

Ron's face was reddening with all the sudden attention, and Mrs. Weasley's sniffles could be heard in the background.

"If Lucius has his sights directed towards Miss Granger, you can be assured that it will be a ridiculously dangerous situation. For her, and for anyone who even petitions for her hand, let alone whomever she accepts," Snape replied. "You could not handle the wrath of the Death Eaters, Weasley. And neither could she."

Harry's quick reflexes and hand at the back of Ron's collar was all that kept the youngest male Weasley from leaping over the leather sofa and attacking Snape, so vicious was the Potions master's tone in his final statement. Ron shrugged off Harry's restraining hands, but calmed himself nonetheless. Ron opened his mouth to shoot a scathing comment at Snape, but Dumbledore headed him off smoothly.

"Severus, you will kindly remember that young Mr. Weasley, like everyone in this room, has only Miss Granger's best wishes at heart. It is a noble gesture, Mr. Weasley, but is far too risky. We cannot allow you to petition for Miss Granger, as it would most certainly lead to personal danger."

"What about Harry?" Hermione asked quietly.

All heads turned to where she sat, in the middle of the room, on a rickety desk chair. It was the first time she had spoken since they entered the room, but Hermione's expression and body language made it quite clear that she was not agreeable to be passed around and discussed as if she weren't there.

"Pardon me, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore inquired politely.

"I said, what about Harry. His mother and father were both wizards, could he not petition for me? He is a bit ... more experienced when it comes to handling these situations."

Ron shot her an angry look, and she noticed out of the corner of her eye that Snape was smirking condescendingly. Her face was pleading as she looked at Ron, but with a small inner giggle, noticed that Harry was blushing to the shade of Ron's hair.

"Unfortunately not," Mr. Weasley answered. "While Harry's parents were both magical, whether or not someone is considered pureblood is not simply measured by their parents. It's a whole line that's considered. Unfortunately, in another two weeks or so, we'll be going through this whole process again. Harry will find himself in quite the same situation."

This time, it was Harry's turn to blanch. He looked thoroughly shocked and embarrassed but said nothing. Hermione, however, would not be sidetracked. "So who will be petitioning for me?"

"Well, that is, by and large, what we are here to discuss. We need to have enough pureblood wizards to petition for her to stall the Ministry for a time."

"I'll petition," Neville spoke up suddenly. Snape looked even more disgusted, but before he could respond, Neville said, "I wouldn't be as close to risk as Ron. Gran is very well connected at the Ministry and there are several things she could very successfully destroy for Mr. Malfoy should he get in her way. Besides, she's almost as influential as the Malfoys are, so there'd be less chance that Malfoy could bribe someone into disallowing my proposal."

Most people in the room were duly shocked that Neville seemed to have given this situation so much thought. Dumbledore, however, seemed to be very closely considering this. After a moment he said, "Yes, I think that will do nicely. But seeing as how you will be putting yourself in danger, it may be best if you were to stay here at Headquarters until further notice and not venture out of doors without one of the members of the Order unless extremely necessary."

Neville nodded silently and was greeted by a grateful smile from Hermione. Even should it end up being required of her, marrying Neville wouldn't be so bad, Hermione told herself.

At this point, Remus spoke up, "Won't Neville's grandmother be in danger?"

"Oh, I think not," Tonks replied. "With the not-so-mysterious deaths of Frank and Alice last month, any direct attacks on Lavinia would be traced back to either a Ministry slip up or the Death Eaters. It would be far too obvious."

Neville was blushing pink, but his face carried such a look of determination that Hermione couldn't help being moved by it. With a last vote of thanks and an issue of goodnight, Dumbledore swept out of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, Professor Snape accompanying him.

Hermione reflected curiously that Snape and Dumbledore had been so deep in conversation throughout the night that she had expected Snape to have more concrete suggestions or solutions throughout that meeting.

"Something's not quite adding up with him," Hermione said to no one in particular. "But I'll be hanged if I can guess it."