Proximity
[X – Coup d'état]

In fact, everyone is ignorant in one way or another. Ignorance is our biggest secret.
-The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

Lucius Malfoy hit the marble floor of the Ministry reception hall with a thump.

"My name is Hermione Granger, these are my credentials," the witch said sweetly, sliding her wand and badge across the counter, "and I'm returning a bit of the Ministry's lost property."

A spotty girl with thick glasses stared, open-mouthed, at the eldest Malfoy. He was bound hand and foot with dark rope and appeared to be quite uncomfortably gagged with what looked like a bit of his own ascot. Standing over him—and holding onto Miss Granger's elbow!—was none other than the Wizarding world's spy, Severus Snape. The old Potion's master curled his lip at the young receptionist, who hastily adjusted her glasses.

"R-right, just this way," the girl squeaked, hopping off her stool and hurrying over to a lift. "Do you want to…?" she gestured towards the furious Malfoy.

"No, I can manage," Hermione said politely, and flicked her wand at her unhappy prisoner. "Mobilicorpus." She turned her attention back to the poor receptionist. "Do you know where Minister Shacklebolt is? Never mind, I have an idea where he'll be. I think a friend of mine is coming to see him for an appointment, and I just want to drop this off quickly. Oh, and have you seen Henrietta? I need to talk to her."

The receptionist choked out something about the third floor and Hermione waved her off. "Never mind, never mind, I'll manage. Have a lovely day."

She was…different.

Severus couldn't quite put his finger on it. She was much more confident, her shoulders were back, and her posture was relaxed. Not to mention she didn't seem to mind his hand on her elbow at all. Hermione glanced up at him from beneath a curtain of clean hair (Merlin, but it smelled lovely), and there was something impish in her sable-colored eyes. "It feels good to be back home," she admitted quietly to Severus as she Levitated Lucius into an elevator lift. "Well, not home, but…you know."

He did. Work, especially the kind of work Hermione did, tended to consume one's entire life—and Hermione was rather obsessive when it came to things like work. As the lift doors closed with a little 'ding!', she slipped his hand off her elbow and twined her fingers through his. There was a rush of warmth, like the sun breaking through the clouds, and she squeezed his hand tightly.

Lucius' bright blue eyes missed nothing.

The doors opened with a slight pop, and standing in front of the elevator doors was a small, dark-haired woman. She had short, bobbed black hair and wore bright red lipstick and cat-eye glasses; from beneath her one sleeve of her professional outfit, Severus's sharp gaze picked out the beginnings of a tattoo. She was probably quite young but she looked much older. A hard life, bad genetics, or a combination of both had not been kind to Hermione's assistant.

"Miss Granger! Where've you been? I got an owl from Mr. Potter saying that you wouldn't be defending the—Merlin! Is that…?" She covered her mouth with a hand. "Is that Lucius Malfoy?"

"It is," Hermione said firmly. "Is my office unlocked?"

"He shouldn't be here!" Henrietta whispered urgently. "Neither should you, Miss Granger, I got a letter saying that—"

"Saying that I was ill? Out of the country? Off on an adventure? Eloping?" Hermione interrupted, sounding amused. "None of them are true. I'm merely going to be taking care of some business, and unfortunately I won't be able to defend our charming Mister Malfoy while I'm away. Considering he violated House Arrest to attack myself and my colleague here, I can only imagine that his case will be more open-and-shut than before. Now, is my office open?"

The assistant trailed behind Hermione as she strode through the halls, and Severus felt an odd prickling on the back of his neck. Something was distinctly wrong.

"Y-yes, it's open, Miss Granger, but I really don't think—"

He finally knew what it was. The corridors—the corridors were all completely empty.

"Miss Granger," he said lowly, "Listen to your assistant."

She paused. "Why is…?" Those brown eyes narrowed as her brow creased in confusion. She could feel it too, now, the urgency in the silence. This floor was typically filled with bustle and chatter, of people chatting in hallways, dictating letters, and interrogating their clients. There wasn't so much as an owl. Her office was wide open, the desk neatly organized, the enchanted window pouring sunlight into the room. She let Lucius crash to the floor, ignored his muffled groan of pain, and flicked her wand towards her office.

"There's nothing," she told Snape under her breath when the spell came back. "It's clean."

"You shouldn't be here, Miss Granger," Henrietta whispered, her voice faltering. "It's not…."

"She's right," a booming voice cut the assistant off, "You shouldn't be here."

It was Kingsley. Every time Hermione met him, she somehow forgot just how large Kingsley was—he was tall, even taller than Snape, with a muscular build and a sinuous elegance to his step. He looked very grave, and his impeccably tailored purple robes seemed rather disheveled. His face seemed even more lined than usual, and his wand was in his hand.

He looked down at Lucius Malfoy with a sigh. "Thank you for bringing him into the Ministry, Granger, but it was unnecessary. I would have dispatched a collection team."

"I wanted to make sure he made it here in one piece," Hermione said, frowning, "Is it very quiet up here, Minister, or is it just me? I feel like—"

"I'll take care of this from here." Kingsley interrupted smoothly. "Please, go home and be safe."

Something's wrong with him, Severus thought, his black eyes narrowing.

"Are you all right, Minister?" Hermione said, as if answering Severus's statement. She took a step forward. "You seem—"

"It has been a very tiring day. Please, Granger, go home." Kingsley's voice took on a sharp edge. "I will take care of Mister Malfoy."

The feeling of wrongness persisted as Hermione slowly turned away. Severus's hand was on her elbow again, pulling her towards the lift, but something wasn't right. Something was wrong, so very wrong, why was this so empty? It was never this empty unless—

"A trial," Hermione said, and her eyes widened. "There's a trial today! What's the date? Why didn't you tell me there was a trial, I'm supposed to be there, what's—"

"Go home!" Kingsley boomed. Hermione flinched. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose as if regretting his outburst. "Go home, Granger. You and Severus should be home, Harry is finding a Secret-Keeper for you two—"

"We wanted to do something useful!" Hermione spoke up indignantly, cheeks coloring, "I wasn't about to hide in the ground like a coward while there was still things to be done! Not to mention we had a very unhappy captive in our midst, I needed to brief Henrietta, we needed to—"

"All which could have been done from the safety of your home," Kingsley said quietly. "Go home."

Severus felt her anger—not his anger, it was distinctly hers—flash through him. She planted her feet and stared down the Minister of Magic. "Not until you tell me what trial is going on."

Kingsley's dark eyes were beaten, and carried the air of a man desperately needing a victory. He shook his head slowly, and looked away. This is what must be done was etched into the line of his brow, the heavy stoop of his shoulder. It was the look of a beaten king who had sacrificed his throne to save his people.

"Lucius Malfoy's."

Hermione blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"It's Lucius Malfoy's trial. It was moved up."

Silence hung in the air, heavy and pregnant with disbelief. Hermione's jaw dropped, eyes wide, she simply stood there, staring at the Minister, who wouldn't meet her gaze. There was very loud static filling her head and shock rippled down her spine. Lucius Malfoy's trial? But Lucius was right here, her mind insisted feebly. How could they be having his trial if he wasn't there? More importantly, she wasn't there, and neither was Henrietta. A dark slash of anger knit her brows together.

No, not anger.

Rage.

"You moved his trial up? With the suspect missing? And his chief prosecutor not even here?" she thundered, cheeks coloring hotly. "How dare you, Kingsley! What—what were you even thinking, what…?"

And then she realized something with a slow, dawning horror. Her mouth shut with a click.

Umbridge. Yaxley. A dozen others who weren't completely tied to Voldemort but had supported his cause anyway—the ones she had been determined to root out. Once Macnair, Crabbe, and the others were imprisoned the rest would fall like dominos. But of course, that took time. Everything took time. If she couldn't even imprison the Death Eaters themselves, how did she have any hope of reaching those sickened veins buried deep within the Ministry?

It was a message.

She looked down at Lucius Malfoy who was smirking up at her, those blue eyes like chips of ice.

"You bastard," Hermione breathed, her rage burning cold in her chest. "You son of a bitch." His politicking and his schmoozing and his wining and dining had bought him a get-out-of-Azkaban-free-card. Everything she had been fighting for since the war had ended, it was all useless. The sickness was so deep, so embedded within the infrastructure of the Ministry, it would take a lifetime before the wizarding government was anywhere near back on track.

She could see it now—Lucius Malfoy explaining quite placidly that he couldn't possibly be a Death Eater, he and his wife had been vacationing in Burma while the attack on Hogwarts was going on. And anyway, he would have said, the model of reason and elegance, that he had been a loyal, faithful supporter of the Ministry for years. Why, hadn't he attended Rufus Scrimgeour's daughter's christening? Hadn't he had Top Box seats with Fudge at the World Cup?

She had brought him here for no reason at all. Why had he even attacked them if he knew this was going to happen?

And suddenly it was over Severus like ice water, the realization flooding through his system. He knew this feeling. This was why he had been on edge on this floor, this is why his instincts were telling him to move, to leave, to get out as quickly and as quietly as possible. His instincts never failed him.

It's a trap, Miss Granger, a trap, an ambush, a trap... it was a trap—

Her eyes widened and she stepped back from Kingsley, squeezing Severus's hand tightly. "Kingsley," she said, softly, and the hurt in her voice was palpable. "Kingsley."

He still wouldn't look at her.

Hermione's grip tightened on her wand and raised it. "Henrietta, get behind me," she rapped out, her voice cold and authoritative. "Now."

The assistant scurried behind Hermione and Severus in an instant. Severus wheeled around, still holding Hermione's hand, and checked the exit. Nobody was there—at least, he couldn't see anyone there.

"You planned this," Hermione growled to Lucius, who grinned wolfishly around a mouthful of his ascot.

BANG!

The world exploded in crumbling rubble and a flash of ice-blue light. The noise was tremendous, humungous, and in that split second her jaws and teeth ached with the sound. Chunks of the ceiling slammed into the floor and the walls quivered as the roof disintegrated; the world was falling apart all around her, she could feel it. A chunk of rubble the size of a small car tore a hole in the floor—everything was noise and the scraping, wrenching, grinding noise of stone against stone.

Severus and Hermione both flung their hands up, wands pointed skyward. "PROTEGO!" they both cried, and the force of their combined shield was enough to keep any more rubble from smashing into them. Hermione was dimly aware of Henrietta screaming, of Kingsley crying out, but the roof was collapsing and she didn't have the time or the patience to comfort either.

Three figures jumped down, masked and hooded. Their robes shimmered with Disillusionment charms and out of the corner of his eye Severus caught a flash of light.

The roof was a distraction. One meant an assassination, two meant protection, and three meant extraction. He gripped Hermione's hand tighter and dragged her forcibly behind the largest chunk of rubble—a curse flew over their heads. She dove for cover and then fired one back—"Petrificus Totalus!"—before retreating behind the rubble.

Thoughts, images, blurred and tangled and confused, rose in his mind. The logical part of his brain recognized it for what it was: confusion and panic from Hermione. He had been in this situation before, Hermione was still rather inexperienced.

Sharing a mind, his brain thought acidly, one of the many lovely side-effects of soul-binding.

Breathe, he instructed her sharply. Flailing around in the middle of a duel was an easy way to get killed or worse. He spared a moment to fire off a knee-reversing curse towards the three men, before once more ducking behind the rubble.

"We need to get out," Hermione gasped, and her grip on Severus's hand was tight enough to draw blood.

Reductor curse—they're between us and the door—need a distraction—

At this point Severus could no longer tell whose thoughts were whose and he simply ignored it, using the momentary confusion to send a Crutatious curse

"Confringo!" Hermione screamed, and the rubble in front of them blew up.

Shrapnel of stone and mortar flew in every direction and it was only thanks to the remnants of their shield charm that they weren't both impaled by chunks of rock. Fire leapt across stone and now there was smoke to add to the haze of dust, which suited Hermione fine. The whole battle could not have lasted longer than ten minutes but it felt like they had been crouched behind rubble for hours. The forceIt scattered the Death Eaters like bowling pins and Hermione flew through them, still clinging to Severus's wrist.

They almost made it.

Almost.

She felt Severus's mind tear away and it was an almost physical sensation, a sharp sting between her eyes, as though someone had jabbed her deliberately. He dropped like a stone and she actually screamed as she was dragged to the floor. She whirled around and fired off two curses but they were blocked easily and ricocheted off the Death Eater's shield. Severus was on the floor, his wand still in his hand, but he had obviously been Stunned.

Lucius Malfoy was standing now, free of the ropes, his gag gone. He rubbed his mouth with a handkerchief and smiled coldly at Hermione.

The Gryffindor bared her teeth, kneeling over Severus, still holding his hand, wordlessly defiant.

"Do be a dear and let go of Severus," Lucius purred.

Hermione opened her mouth to wake up Severus, to use the counter-curse to Stupefy, but a jet of purple light hit her straight in the chest. She was flung back against the rubble, gasping, unable to move, her eyes unfocused. Half-blind and unable to draw breath, Hermione scrapped up every ounce of determination and slashed her wand through the air.

"REDUCTO!"

She didn't care what she hit, but she heard a muffled boom that was very near. Her vision swam but she could see flames licking eagerly across heavy wool curtains and smoke was filling the room—her curse had miraculously hit the pillar nearest Lucius Malfoy and he had to leap to get out of the way.

Hermione got to her knees, hair hanging in her eyes, still struggling to breathe, and croaked out, "Rennerv—"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Her arms snapped to her sides. Unable to move a muscle she lay there, frozen—this was wrong, nightmarishly, horrendously wrong. How had this happened? There was nobody behind her except…

Except Henrietta.

Her assistant stood there, glasses askew, tears running down her face. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, and picked up Hermione's wand and slipped it into her pocket, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I have a son—"

But it didn't matter, because a Stunning Spell hit Henrietta between the eyes, and she fell over with a grief-stricken expression on her face. Lucius stood over Hermione, adjusting his cufflinks.

"If I wasn't so pressed for time, I'd take you along and teach that miserable tongue of yours a lesson," he snarled, "But since we're on a tight schedule, au revior, Miss Granger."

With a casual flick of his wand, he Stunned her.

She woke up coughing up soot. There was a mediwizard above her, his brow creased. His mouth was moving but she couldn't hear a thing—there was just the thick, steady pulse of her heartbeat in her ears.

Hermione was burning alive. She could feel it. Crawling over her skin, erupting from her chest. The heat was unbearable; it was like nothing she'd ever experienced before in her life.

Wheezing with tears leaking unbidden from her eyes, she rolled over and saw the ruins of the corridor. There were mediwizards everywhere, clustered around the fallen form of their Minister. He had apparently been hit by a chunk of rubble, and she saw the familiar silver gleam of blood-replenishing potions.

Throbbing in her head like a rotted tooth was the fact that Severus was gone. She was alone.

She picked herself up unsteadily, shoving the mediwizard ruthlessly aside. "We need to find them," she panted, the fever raging through her system making her voice slurred and thick.

"Find who?" the mediwizard asked patiently. She stared up at him stupidly.

"The Death Eaters!" she screamed at him, her voice hoarse and broken, because he was looking at her with patience and fondness, like she was an unruly patient.

"There aren't any Death Eaters," he explained carefully, "Miss Granger, you must be confused. The ceiling collapsed because of a malfunctioning charm and you were struck by some of the rubble. Please lie back down—"

Severus was gone. Severus was gone.

She saw Henrietta still lying on the ground and shuffled over to her. There, poking out of her pocket, was her wand.

Bless Merlin and God and everyone else for small favors.

This small movement took all of her energy and she lay there against the prone form of her betrayer, her assistant, unable to do anything more than breathe and cry.

He was gone, but that could be rectified. She would find him. She would find him even if she had to tear apart the universe. The necessity of this went far beyond physical-missing him was like getting stabbed, with a constant bleed. If she had to live like this, she would go insane.

Those dark brown eyes were red-rimmed and blackened but they glittered with savage, relentless determination. She would find him. She just had to follow his trail. Her instincts wouldn't lead her wrong.

Slowly, with great care, she stood. With each pulse in her ears she could feel him. It was like a magnetic pull, drawing her closer, and her feet began moving of their own accord. Her skin was burning and she saw strange, terrible, feverish things whenever she closed her eyes for a blink.

"Call Harry Potter," she told the mediwizard raggedly, "Tell him I'll come back."

I hope.

This is long overdue, I apologize. Got caught up in life. But ha-hah-ha, we have nice little cliffhanger. ;)

Specials thanks to araeofsomething, my splendiferous beta. -Nylex