Paramour

Chapter 1

June 2002

Hermione scowled as she smashed the latest copy of The Daily Prophet onto the kitchen table. "Fifty Muggles Slain in Latest Public Execution" sprawled the front page. The image of their final moments replaying over and over; the terror on their bruised and bloodied faces reaching a depth in Hermione, that none of the Order could ever possibly understand.

They could've been her family. They weren't. Her family were safe. Or as safe as could be, she had made sure of that.

"Are you okay?" Ginny's voice, full of uncertainty startled Hermione, her hand hovering over her wand as a reflex. Upon realising it was Ginny, her shoulders relaxed, she sighed and muttered a pathetic apology, turning back to her brewing cauldron of Polyjuice Potion as Ginny slowly lowered the hands she had thrown up in defence.

"No, I don't think I am, but I'm alive, unlike them." Ginny's eyes drifted to the paper on the table, she didn't need to see the front page, she knew what was on it. The executions were increasing, numbers doubling daily, and the ways in which they were murdered becoming fuelled by a brutality that no human with a conscience could ever justify. Ginny offered Hermione a small smile, attempting to shoot comfort her way, despite knowing Hermione regularly rejected pity or help.

"You do know it's not your fault, right? You don't have to feel bad..." Ginny shifted uncomfortably, as she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, attempting to find the right words to comfort Hermione. "...feel bad for feeling relief that your family are safe."

Hermione's gaze drifted from the potion simmering in front of her, to Ginny, who was still shifting, attempting to find anything to distract from the blatant tension drowning them both.

"I don't feel bad Ginny." Hermione sighed, stirring her potion "I feel fucking awful." A wan smile appeared on Ginny's lips. "There's more I could be doing, we could be doing, the order could be doing, and we're refusing to!"

"I know Her-" Ginny was abruptly cut off.

"We are no better, you understand that right? We have abilities to protect the vulnerable, the non-magical, and we're not. We're hiding away, waiting for Harry, Ronald and Kingsley to concoct another plan, all whilst allowing muggles to be our sacrificial pawns."

In Hermione's frustration, she had mistakenly stirred counterclockwise fives times, instead of three, resulting in the Polyjuice to curdle and amalgamate into a putty like texture, rendering it useless. Hermione threw her head backwards in frustration, clutching the kitchen counter with such force, her knuckles turned white.

"Amazing, absolutely fucking brilliant. It took me weeks of foraging to collect the ingredients for that Polyjuice and I've ruined it." Ginny shuffled over to Hermione, removing the cauldron from in front of her, before placing a hand hesitantly on her back.

"Hermione, stop this. Please. Take a break. Kingsley and Moody will understand if the polyjuice isn't ready. We can postpone the rescue by a week, maybe. It all depends really on what Tonks and Remus report back, but we can delay, we'll have to, we need the potion." Ginny continued rubbing circles into Hermione's back. "I'll speak to Harry, let him know you're stretched too thin, maybe we could reassign some of the field workers, I'm sure they'd be happy to have a break from the constant threat of impending death."

Hermione's breath hitched, and she shot Ginny a puzzled look. "Just because the rest of us here are not actively on the field, doesn't mean the threat of death doesn't loom over us too. Between working in the hospital wing, potions and dark arts laboratories, I- we, are constantly surrounded by death, and at the very least, injuries."

Ginny's face flushed with guilt. "I suppose I've never really thought of it like that." She gently pulled Hermione away from the counter, pulling out two chairs for them to sit on respectively. "On the field, during rescues and raids, I guess we don't think about how it must feel for the rest of you here. Maybe, sometimes, we take you all for granted, underestimate you, assume you have it easier because you aren't actively fighting."