The Marriage Decree

Chapter 132: That Isn't Going To Happen

"He's running late," Hermione checks her watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. "It's nearly quarter-past seven; he was supposed to be here at seven."

"He'll be here; he promised," Harry assures her.

Hermione blows the steam off the top of her cup of tea. Harry and Ginny have spent the past two months renovating 12 Grimmauld Place. Their house was almost unrecognisable from the dark and dingy place they had lived during the Summer between their fourth and fifth year. Although the kitchen has always felt more homely than the rest of the house, therefore, the one piece of furniture Harry had kept is the long wooden dining table and long benches, where they had gathered on many occasions over the years with family and friends.

The long-awaited knock at the front door has Harry jumping out of his seat, "I'll get that." He rushes out of the kitchen.

Hermione listens as Harry opens the front door, welcoming their friend into his house, then guiding him down the corridor into the kitchen where Hermione is sat waiting.

Dennis' eyes widen upon seeing Hermione, "I didn't know you were going to be here," he admits.

"You absolutely idiot, Dennis," Hermione stands.

Dennis glances at Harry, "You told her?" He asks, but Harry shrugs, stepping away, not wanting to stand in Hermione's way, not when she's this angry. "I'm sorry?" He turns back to Hermione.

"What were you thinking, joining the Death Eaters?" She asks, voice remaining relatively calm, which sends a shiver down Dennis' spine.

"My main thought was killing the bastard who killed Colin," Dennis defends himself.

"You really think Heres is going to give you the name? As soon as you stop being useful to them, Heres will probably kill you themselves." Hermione states. "Which begs the question, what use do you have?"

"I can gather information from the Ministry," Dennis explains.

"How, you don't work within the Ministry?" Hermione frowns.

"I deliver the Daily Prophet to the majority of the departments within the Ministry," Dennis points out. "I'm non-assuming; they don't notice me walking around, so they speak freely around me. When the Heads aren't at their desks, I leave the paper on top of piles of confidential parchments that they leave just lying around. I am handy to Heres," Dennis finishes.

"You're a Muggleborn, Dennis. Do you not have any self-respect? Not too long ago, they would have murdered you on the spot for just existing. That's what they did to Colin," Hermione snaps at him.

"Don't talk about Colin like that," Dennis argues back.

"What would Colin think of you right now? You've joined the people who killed him, and you're talking about them like they won't turn around and kill you." She continues.

"Only Heres knows each individual's identity. I am Picus. The others only know me as the Griffin. They know I'm a Gryffindor, but that's it." Dennis tries to explain.

"Is throwing your life away really worth a name?" Hermione asks.

"Yes," Dennis confirms.

"Fine, you get his name, and you kill the Death Eater who killed Colin, then what? You spend the rest of your life in Azkaban?" She suggests.

"Heres said the Wizengamot would go lightly on me for killing a Death Eater. I'd get ten years, maximum."

"I get the impression that Heres doesn't know what it's like to spend a year in Azkaban, never mind ten."

"Do you?" Dennis asks, becoming frustrated.

"I've seen the effects Azkaban had on Lucius Malfoy after a year," Hermione answers. "He was a completely different person. Someone like you wouldn't last a month in a place like that. They'll lock you away in a dark, cold cell, and the only communication you get is when your meals are brought to you. You're left with only your own thoughts for entertainment."