Part III, chapter 9

Hermione looked around for a moment, dazedly taking in her surroundings. It seemed so surreal and dreamlike until a voice pierced the bubble.

“Hermione?”

She turned around to find Ginny sticking her head out her window. She smiled up, hope finally bubbling up to the surface.

Ginny smiled back, disbelief and hope warring on her face. She disappeared from the window, but Hermione heard her yell, “MUM! DAD! HERMIONE'S OUT FRONT!”

Hermione couldn't help but smile in earnest when she heard several crashes and a dull bang, and suddenly seven people were on the front step. Ginny, Molly and the twins somehow managed to restrain Harry and Ron while Arthur came rushing forward, his face a muddle of emotions.

He stopped a few feet away and looked at her apologetically. “I'm sorry, Hermione, but--”

“Don't worry, Mr. Weasley. I understand you need to ascertain my identity first.”

“Sounds like Hermione to me,” Ron commented to Harry, who just elbowed him in the ribs.

Arthur relaxed a little and smiled. “What's your favorite book?”

She smiled. “Well, Ronald and Harry would say it was “Hogwarts: A History,” which I do find fascinating, but I think my favorite book is probably the little cookbook Mrs. Weasley gave me just after the wedding, knowing that the boys are completely hopeless with taking care of thems--”

She was cut off by seven people hugging her fiercely. After lots of joyous noise and hugging and Molly's crying, they all finally gave her a bit of room, except for the boys.

They looked at one another awkwardly before Ron gave in and swooped Hermione into his arms, swinging her about happily.

“I didn't think we'd ever get you back,” he said thickly after putting her back on the ground.

She looked up at him and gave him as happy a smile as she could muster, but thought, You didn't.

She was a traitor now.

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She was trying to concentrate on the meeting, but she was finding it difficult. She'd had trouble concentrating ever since she'd escaped, and it bothered her. Her mind kept wandering back to Snape and why he'd tortured her. There had to be a reason, didn't there? He couldn't just be completely evil, could he? The way he'd made love to her... He couldn't be evil. Evil wasn't capable of such tenderness.

They – Ron, Harry and the rest of the Order – had asked her what had happened, and she'd explained most of it, but she hadn't been able to bring herself to mention that night. She hadn't really explained how she'd managed to get Peter to release her either, just telling them the basics of her plan while conveniently leaving out the sexual seduction. Despite of, or perhaps because of, her vagueness, she knew by the grown-ups' looks that they knew. She hadn't been able to look Remus in the face since. She didn't think Harry had guessed what she had done, but the way Ron had been hesitant to touch her afterwards, she suspected he had figured it out.

That thought scared her more than anything.

But as for Snape... She'd told them how he'd humiliated her, how he'd subjugated her, how he'd Crucioed her, but she couldn't, just couldn't tell them about their night together. She didn't know if she felt it would be betraying him or herself, Harry or Ron, but whichever way, she felt enough of a traitor without adding that bit. As it was, Harry and Ron were both seeing red.

Her stomach roiled with worry and guilt again, and she impatiently concentrated on keeping the bile down. She knew there would be physical symptoms to go along with her stress, but she needed to get over it. There was a war to win, and she damned well wouldn't be lying around sick for the rest of it. She'd been enough of a hindrance already.

A startled word brought her attention back to the meeting just as an owl landed on the Burrow's table in front of Harry. It had a rather large package attached to its leg.

Harry took out his wand and untied the package magically, making sure that he didn't touch it. Hermione had never seen him so cautious before.

He and a grim looking Moody worked on the package, casting every known revealing charm on it until they were sure it was safe to open. Hermione was surprised when Ron then took the package and was the one to open it. He saw her looking at him quizzically and smiled.

“We developed this strategy after they... while you were gone. Harry doesn't touch any letter or package anymore, and we each take turns opening strange letters and parcels.” He shrugged and cut through the twine binding the package with his wand, then looked up at her again and smiled ruefully. “It's my turn.”

She nodded worriedly, crossed her arms across her stomach and started rocking reflexively while she watched him open the package. As soon as the box was open, his smile disappeared in horror, and he looked back up at Hermione.

Everyone craned their necks curiously, although no one strayed from their seats. Harry was looking at Ron impatiently, but Ron kept his attention on Hermione. He frowned and then gulped before levitating a silver arm out of the box.

Hermione felt herself go white and was suddenly very glad to be sitting down, as she felt quite woozy.

“Mum!” Ron called out, pointing to Hermione. Molly, who was sitting beside Hermione as usual, quickly put her arms around Hermione's shoulders, steadying her until her breathing was a little slower and her dizzy spell had passed.

Hermione tried to get control of herself, and before long, she was able to smile shakily at Molly in thanks, although the older woman didn't let her go. She just adjusted her grip into a hug, offering Hermione a sympathetic look.

Meanwhile, Ron had opened the letter addressed to Harry and was silently reading it, going from red to purple to white. When he'd finished, he looked down into the box with a scowl, even as Moody took the letter from his hand.

Moody grunted his displeasure when he read the letter to himself and then cocked an appraising eye at Hermione before reading the letter aloud.

Hermione, however, wasn't listening. Her whole attention was on the letter Ron was handing her. She'd seen him take it from the box and try to open it, but it refused to cooperate. She took it with a shaking hand, instantly recognizing the spiky lettering that scrawled her surname across the parchment.

Taking a deep breath, she opened it and started crying when she read the single line:

It was the only way.

AN: First, if you want more resolution or answers to some of the left over questions, there is a small one-shot sequel called "Closure" that is now up. Compared to this, it's downright fluffy, but its still on the gritty side of fandom.

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