Walpurgisnacht

The Fox in the Snake's Nest

Author Notes: 

~"..."~ = Parseltongue

English is still not my native language, spelling and grammatical mistakes will be made!

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Harry's green eyes flashed to Hermione's, then followed the movements of her hands intently. Her slender and elegant hands- now too thin and veiny from the lack of food- twitched as they gently administered the long black hairs in the potion. Unnoticed, Harry held his breath as he nervously watched Hermione's potion, which for the time being still looked like thick mud bubbling ominously in the cauldron.

Hermione's lips were drawn into a narrow, tight line, her eyes unchanged on the potion. When nothing happened, Harry saw the muscles under Hermione's right eye twitch- as did her lower lip- obviously overwhelmed with emotion.

"Hermione?" Harry began hesitantly, his gaze fixed on the brilliant witch.

A lonely tear rolled down Hermione's face, her face smooth as a statue and for a moment time seemed to stand still. A sudden cry from Hermione, which seemed so heartbreaking and almost animalistic that the two boys stared at her, confused. With an abrupt movement, Hermione knocked over the cauldron, the dripping liquid like mud on the floor.

"Mione?" Ron asked softly, his eyes wide. "What went wrong?"

Hermione glared at him and wanted to give him a piece of her mind, but managed to control herself at the last moment. Her breath caught, forcing her to take another forced calm breath. Harry could see ten different emotions wash over her face, but one expression remained: devastation.

"The hairs were contaminated...is my assumption," Hermione said timidly. "The hairs that had fallen on me..."

Hermione turned her face away, a sad sob was inevitable. Her hand involuntarily slid to the word 'Mudblood' carved into her arm by Bellatrix Lestrange. She twisted her face in grief and tried to pull herself together.

Ron had sat down next to her on the wooden planks and looked around the desolate building, before he could think twice he pressed a firm kiss to Hermione's hair. He pulled the trembling body of Hermione, who had completely surrendered to the tears, tightly against him.

"Ooh, 'Mione," Ron muttered into the brown curls, "It was a chance we had to take, no one can blame you."

He took Hermione's face in his warm hands and moved his face down so far that he caught her eye. "There you are, beauty," he said with a genuine smile.

"Hermione, you are the bravest, brilliant, and sometimes downright terrifying witch I have ever met. Without you, we would have been lost long ago. Nobody blames you that a Polyjuice Potion didn't work, for all we know the black hairs were not hers, but her evil cat. Dear 'Mione, I'd rather have you in one piece than accidentally turning into a whiskered girl."

Hermione chuckled softly at Ron's reference to her bad luck in her second year when she had partially turned into a cat. With frantic movements, she wiped the tears from her face and said with a crooked smile, "If you put it that way, it's a good thing the potion didn't change color- if it had taken on a dark shine I would have drunk it without a doubt."

Ron grinned widely and kissed her forehead again. "Every disadvantage has its advantage, love."

Hermione looked at the wasted potion that lay on the moldy floor. "I'm glad I decided to partially put the potion in a cauldron. If I had put the prepared potion in a sealed bottle, I would never have noticed the reaction - or rather the lack of reaction. What could have happened then..."

She stared ahead in thought, her hand still clutched in Ron's warm hands. She bit her lower lip uncertainly before gently and unwillingly withdrawing her hand from Ron's.