Chapter 25: The Second Defiance

"Runnin' like a hairy troll…spinnin' round like a crazy elf." Jean babbled, lying flat on her back, hair fanned around her in the Malfoy family manor basement. She waved her hands erratically in front of her face. She was fifteen years old at the Yule Ball with Sirius Black. He was a famous seeker from Bulgaria. He had red hair and a stripe of freckles across his nose. He kissed her on the hand, in a broom closet, before getting mad and running away to find Harry, who was twenty years in the future. "Boogie down like a unicorn…and no stoppin' till the break of dawn…Can you dance like a hippogriff….na na na na na na na."

"Going a little mad, mudblood?" asked one of the Death Eaters, swinging open the door to her cage. Wilkes. Jean was able to tell them apart now, even with the hoods. Wilkes was taller. She broke Rosier's nose.

"Whatcha singing?" jeered Rosier.

"Hasn't been written yet," said Jean, her voice far away.

Roiser didn't say anything, shifting from side to side. "Get up," he said.

Rosier and Wilkes grabbed her hands, still drawing circles in the air and pulled her up. They barely had to hold onto her as she drifted wherever they nudged her. Jean was oddly fixated on the chandelier hanging from the ceiling as she was sat down in the familiar plain wooden chair. "I don't think she's all there, Bellatrix," said Wilkes, walking away to his usual spot on the edge of the room.

Jean was barely aware of a wand poking at her cheek, turning her head from side to side. She was hyper-focused on a scuff on the pair of boots in front of her. "Augumenti."

A stream of water doused her face, shooting up her nose and down into her throat. Jean sputtered coming back to reality. She wiped her sodden tangled hair out of her eyes and looked tiredly up at Bellatrix, grinning down at her like a Cheshire. "Back with us?" asked Bellatrix pleasantly.

Jean spat a mouthful of water in response. Bellatrix cocked her hip out and folded her arms, wand cradled in the crook of her elbow. "Good," she cooed. "You're just in time to meet your new friend."

Jean then realized Bellatrix was not alone. Several other Death Eaters were loosely scattered around the room, looking at her through the dark expressionless slits of their masks. Some were unhooded and Jean recognized the younger visages of Death Eaters she knew from the future: Dolohov, MacNair, Karkaroff. Lucius was also with Narcissa sitting in the two squat chairs tucked in the corner of the room. Narcissa was clutching at Lucius' forearm, shifting nervously. Lucius looked like he hadn't slept in days. "Bellatrix," he said weakly, timidly. "I must insist that he leaves…."

A low predatory growl vibrated the whole room. Lucius' mouth clicked shut and he shrunk back into his chair. Jean's eyes widened as she panned back over the room. Fenrir Greyback stepped forward, broad shouldered and snarling. He was wearing street clothes, tattered and stretched tight over his barrel chest, sleeves turned up at the elbow. He did not have the Dark Mark tattooed on his forearm. Jean wondered briefly if he ever was officially a Death Eater or if he just joined Voldemort for the sport of killing wizards.

The werewolf gave a toothy grin. "Hello, little miss," he said. "I remember you." Jean watched Greyback chew a cuticle off his thumb, tipped with a jagged yellowing nail.

"Did you know," said Bellatrix, "the scars from a werewolf attack never truly go away?" Bellatrix's wand lightly brushed over Jean's forehead and down her cheek. "If I were you, I'd tell me what I want to know. I always have trouble getting the mad dog to stop after he draws blood." Fenrir grinned at that, nearly salivating with anticipation.

Bellatrix continues to skim Jean's skin with her wand, wrapping a curl of Jean's around the end. "What ever does he see in you?" she said quietly. Bellatrix straightened. "Who is in the Order of the Phoenix?" Jean didn't say anything, her shoulders slumping, eyes dropping to the floor. Jean didn't see the point. "Not so mouthy today, are we?" said Bellatrix.

A spell cracked across Jean's face but she hardly felt it. A thin cut spilled a drop of blood under her eye when the spell hit her again. "Answer me," said Bellatrix pointedly. "Tell me what I want to know or he'll make you." Jean remained silent.

Bellatrix huffed out a sigh, beleaguered, like she was trying to train an animal without success. "Fine," she said, an airy note of finality in her voice. "If you won't tell me what I want to know, then you can scream it at me." Bellatrix turned her head towards Greyback, one eye still on Jean as if she wanted to see how she would react. "Greyback, play with her. But keep her alive, if you're capable."

Jean swallowed a whimper as Greyback lurked forward, his hulking frame casting a shadow across her body. He circled her slowly until he was behind her. Jean could smell the pungent rot. Fenrir leaned down. "You smell sweet," he whispered. It was almost a relief for Jean. A fatigue longer than her time in captivity was being lifted from her shoulders. Her pain and more importantly her secrets would die with her. Jean closed her eyes, settling into her resignation.

"Let me speak to her."

The room got cold and even Fenrir backed away. The sea of black robes parted, revealing a single man, tall, unnaturally skinny and hooded. He glided forward on soundless footsteps. Bellatrix, her shoulders bowed reached for his pale spider like fingers, but he brushed her away. Lord Voldemort pulled back his hood and stared down at Jean, his face emotionless.

He was not as serpentine as he would become, but he was not human either. His skin was pallid but still looked alive. He had great hollows in his cheeks, sharpening his cheekbones. His lips were thin and colorless and his nose was receding into his face but not all the way gone. Jean could see his scalp through a layer of thin dark hair. His eyes were heavily bloodshot instead of full crimson, his irises like elongated almonds than snake like slits. Jean could not look away, almost entranced, like a hare staring down a hungry viper.

"Jean Granger," said Voldemort, his voice thin but strong.

Jean didn't say anything. It was like she had been rendered mute. She wasn't entirely sure she was even blinking.

Bellatrix quickly stepped forward, still openly groveling. "You need not trouble yourself with this filth, my master," she said, all arrogance sapped from her voice. "Leave her to me. I'll see that she talks."

Voldemort didn't lift a finger. He glanced sideways like one would look at a chittering child. Bellatrix abruptly shut her mouth and, body still bent, back pedaled to the others.

"I don't need you to talk," said Voldemort, his eyes drifting back to Jean. "I will hear you all the same."

Voldemort lifted his wand in a lazy arc, thick black smoke billowing from the tip. It corporalized, forming a wide stocky chair made from glossy black wood with a twisted ornate back. It looked more like a throne than a chair. Voldemort sat, eye level with Jean. A small voice in the back of her mind told her to look away, but she couldn't. "Sleep," Voldemort said, his whispered words stretching into a hiss. His voice wrapped around Jean's bones. She heard nothing but him and saw nothing but his mottled red eyes.

It was like a daydream. Images floated through her mind's eye while she walked the thread between sleep and wakefulness. Her head lolled to the side and her eyes were heavy. Jean smelled layers of neglected dust, the brush of broom bristles against her leg. Sirius backed her against the door and kissed her again, his thumbs framing her jaw. Sirius' hand dropped, running down the ridges of her spine. Jean was lying down on Sirius' chest. He was asleep, face half concealed by the sofa pillows. Jean could hear the rhythm of the rain beat against the windows of their flat.

"What a handsome couple." Jean felt more coils wrap around her mind.

Jean moved her head and suddenly she was standing. The walls of the Shrieking Shack rose from the mists around her. She looked through the doorway into a dilapidated bedroom. Remus was sitting on the warped, sunken bed, his back to her. The waning sunlight accentuated his thin shoulders. Jean blinked again, momentarily blinded, maybe by the light, maybe by the flashbulb of Marlene's camera. Marlene placed the camera back on the dresser as she Alice, Dorcas and Mary continued to get ready for graduation that afternoon. Jean's eyes drifted over her unexpected friends before settling onto the door of their dormitory bathroom. Jean suddenly felt nauseous and was on her knees before she realized it. Jean stared blankly at the chunks of vomit floating in the toilet. The wound on her arm ached as well as the wound in her heart. He was dead.

"Sleep. Tell me."

With a jolt, Jean realized what was happening. Voldemort, a skilled Legilimens, was thumbing through her memories like a photo album.

"Sleep," Voldemort said again and Jean could feel the tendrils of magic wrapping around her mind. The images came faster, even as Jean struggled to close the book on her thoughts. She stared her knobbly eleven-year-old knees in the claustrophobic privacy of a bathroom stall. She wiped her eyes. She had been crying. She jerked up at a roaring sound that vibrated the partitions around her. A mountain troll. She was in a long, dark hallway, her heart beating in her ears. In one hand, she clutched the yellowing page of a library book, in the other a mirror. The moonlight flashed across the silver handle. She peaked around the corner and didn't even have time to gasp in recognition at the yellow eyes reflected in the glass. She was curled up on herself, simmering in her shame and frustration. Hephaestus—Crookshanks hopped up onto the bed, his squashed orange face nuzzling into her hand. She pushed him away, furious with the cat that killed Pete—Scab—Ron's pet.

"What are you trying to conceal from me?"

Jean felt like she was trying to run through water. Water rushed into her lungs as she was pulled deeper and deeper, tethered by her ankle. Through glassy eyes, she saw Viktor Krum emerge from the silty, reedy depths, this upper body transformed into a shark. Jean felt herself being pulled upward, the siren's song fading away. They broke the surface and Jean tilted her head back for air. She didn't see the sky. She saw darkness, a dais, an empty archway, a body falling through a silvery veil, a stunned smile frozen on his face.

"No!" Jean didn't know if she said that aloud or if her protest was echoing in her own head. She crouched down, hands clapped on either side of her head, tightening into a ball. The walls around her were memories melting into one another like watery paint. Faces strobed in front of her eyes. Sirius-Remus-James—Alice—Neville—Marlene—Peter—Draco—Dorcas—Mary—Luna—Lily—Ginny—Ron—Hermione—Harry.

Jean was in a cramped cupboard under the stairs, a naked bulb swinging overhead. She pressed against the flimsy door feeling a great pressure building from the other side.

"Let me in," Voldemort whispered.

The light bulb burst overhead leaving Jean in darkness. The room was closing in on her, touching her shoulders. She heaved her entire being into the door feeling it splinter underneath her fingers. Jean had to stop him. She had to force him out or it would be over before it began. Jean reached down for a shard of the burst bulb frantically scratching in the cheap white paint of the door. The filament faired overhead. Jean saw her eyes red and slit like in the warped reflection of the knob. They glanced up and the flickering orange glow illuminated what she had written: Tom Marvolo Riddle.

For a moment, Jean was falling. When she landed she was kneeling on the floor of the Malfoy manor. Jean looked up and saw Voldemort sitting in his oily black throne. He was leaning forward on his knees, his face inches from hers. "What do you know of me?" Jean wasn't sure if he asked that aloud or his voice was still slithering around in her mind.

Maybe it was Voldemort's Legilimency. Maybe it was Hermione desperately trying to keep her secrets. Maybe it was Jean finally answering Bellatrix's question of how badly she wanted to die. Jean's jaw relaxed. Her mouth dropped open and she spoke the great and terrible truth. "You're going to lose." Jean's voice was flat and emotionless. "You're going to die."

Voldemort physically recoiled. He stood abruptly, his elaborate chair dissolving behind him. Jean heard the mumbled chatter of Death Eaters around her but did not turn away from Voldemort. She was the only one close enough to see his shock, his fear. Like a green flash at sunset, it was there for a moment and gone in an instant.

"Greyback," Voldemort said coolly, stepping away from her. "Do what you want with her, but make sure they find the body."

Fenrir didn't say anything, but Jean could feel the rumble of satisfaction is his chest. Jean heard Narcissa whimper in horror as a clawed calloused hand gripped her and dragged her to the ground. She was so weak and disoriented she could barely lift her head from where it fell on the floor. One of Fenrir's hands was pressed so hard into her back her spine popped. The other groped her head, stretching and pulling until her neck was exposed. She felt his spit drop onto her scalp. "You can struggle. I like that."

"REDUCTO!"

Jean felt Fenrir lift off her body, thrown back by a beam of red light, roaring in her ear like a freight engine. Jean twisted her head to look up. In her slanted, watery vision Jean saw James Potter and Frank Longbottom dressed in their Auror uniforms their faces stern. Lily, Alice and Remus were wearing street clothes. Lily had a look of cold fury that looked out of place on a face that smiled so much. Centered between all of them, Sirius lowered his wand. "Get away from her," he growled.

"Sirius," Jean mumbled, dazed, not quite believing they were there. "Sirius."

Jean heard a faint popping sound, knowing without looking that some of the Death Eaters had Disapparated. "Cowards," Bellatrix's hissed. Jean felt herself being hauled up and braced against a body. A hand snaked around her shoulders, choking her. A wand was jammed under her chin. "Take another step and she dies." Bellatrix's voice reverberated in Jean's skull.

Sirius twisted his wand around in his fingers. "Bellatrix," he said, his voice balancing the knife's edge between fear and fury. "This is between you and me. Leave her out of this."

"She is between you and me. You and your destiny. I can't very well leave her out of this."

"Let her go!" said Sirius, errant sparks shooting from his wand.

"Sirius Black," said Voldemort, gliding across the floor almost as if he were floating. Once again, it was unnerving how cool and even his soft voice was and how Jean couldn't look away from his slim figure. "At last we meet. Lower your wand and let us talk like wizards."

Frank sidestepped Sirius, eyeing Voldemort hard, his wand half raised in a white knuckled grip. "My name is Frank Longbottom. On behalf of the Department of Magical Law and the Minister of Magic you are under arrest for multiple charges of murder."

Voldemort's face betrayed no emotion, save for an eerie serenity. He extended his arms, opening his palms almost supplicating. "This is not what I want: sons of noble houses warring with each other."

"We don't care what you want, just who you have," said James. "Give us Jean and come quietly."

"In an exchange something is given and something is gained," said Voldemort.

"We are not bargaining with kidnappers and murderers," countered Remus.

Voldemort gave Remus a lingering look. "Yet you'll fight for a failed state puppetted by lesser men that forces the magical world to hide from the rest of it. You are jailers for those who would reach for their greatness. How many concessions have worthy wizards made to protect muggles, placate mudbloods and indulge…half-breeds."

Suddenly, Jean heard Fenrir inhale deeply, letting out a breath that could only be described as bliss. "You," said Greyback, eyes honing in on Remus. Jean struggled under her captor's grip as Fenrir stalked forward. He was easily a head taller than Remus and twice as wide. Remus rolled the hilt of his wand between his fingers and let out a small breath. Fenrir paused, inches in front of Remus and sniffed the air. His face lifted with a look of perverted glee. "You're one of mine."

Jean watched Remus' face rapidly pale. Lily let out a little breath. James shifted his stance, his face betraying everything. Frank's eyes flicked over to Remus and back to Voldemort. "What's he talking about, Remus?" Sirius remained unmoved, his eyes rooted on Jean. It seemed like he didn't even hear them.

Lily made to grab at Remus' shirtsleeve but Remus pushed her away. Fenrir gave the shorter slender man a yellowed grin. "They don't know?" jeered Greyback, circling Remus, almost salivating. "Lyall's little pup's all grown up. That spineless half-breed hunter. He despises you. He'll never say it to your face, but he despises you, me, and the rest of us werewolves." Remus visibly flinched and Jean heard Alice's small gaps. Fenrir shoved Remus' shoulder, nearly toppling Remus. "You're a mangy thing though. That's what you get for being Dumbledore's dog. I should have come for you sooner; taught you how to be a real wolf."

Remus was shaking where he stood, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. He almost seemed to be at the point of tears. To his left, Alice and Frank exchanged a look of stunned understanding. Fenrir reaches out a hand, his half broken fingernails scraping the hem of Remus' collar. "I wonder if you can still see the bite."

"Don't touch him," Jean managed with as much force as she could.

"Crucio!" Bellatrix's wand sent Jean to her knees. The cry that ripped itself from her mouth was more from shock than from actual pain. However, even the tingle in her deadened, overtaxed nerves grew to be agony.

Distantly, Jean heard shouting. "Stop! Stop! Please! Stop!"

Jean felt the spell lift from her body, but it still look her many moments to uncurl her stiff body from the ball she had formed. Jean peeled her face off the floor and looked at Sirius through red-rimmed eyes. She could see the slight tremor in his hand as he glanced back and forth between Jean and Voldemort. "What do you want?" he asked, bravado nearly gone.

"You," said Voldemort simply. He raised his hands. "All of this is for you."

Sirius shifted his stance. "What do you mean?"

"Your cousin speaks the truth. You have been running away from your destiny, from the future I want to build for our kind. But, I need powerful wizards, like yourself, to make that future real." Voldemort gestured to the clocked Death Eaters behind him with his long, pale fingers. "I am a generous Lord, and I reward those who serve me well. Join me, and she lives. Defy me, and she dies."

"Sirius," Jean whimpered, trying to pick herself off the ground. Her body was screaming in protest. "Sirius…don't…" Jean's elbows gave out and she collapsed.

Sirius looked at her, feet away, but miles apart. His eyes were wide with terror and all the color had fallen from his face. Slowly, he turned his gaze back to Voldemort. "And she'd be safe?" he asked.

"Sirius," said James sharply. He clapped Sirius on the shoulder, but Sirius shrugged him off, stepping forward. "You swear you wouldn't hurt her?"

An explosion took place in the pit of Jean's stomach. Summoning strength she didn't know she had, Jean pulled herself up to her hands and knees. "Sirius," she shouted her voice cracking every other syllable, "don't do this."

"Be quiet, mudblood," Jean heard Bellatrix say.

Jean felt hands seize her, towing her upright. Hands clasped at her jaw, trying to close over her lips. "Don't do this, please!"

Sirius looked helplessly at her, looking younger than she had ever seen him. "He'll kill you if I don't."

"I'd rather die," Jean shouted back, trying to throw her captors off of her.

Sirius blanched and for Jean it was like going forward through time, Sirius' haunted lamp like eyes stared at her almost unseeing. It was the same thousand-yard gaze he had given her the night she had first met him in the Shrieking Shack. He looked like a man who had lost everything that mattered to him. Sirius slowly shook his head. "I can't allow that to happen." The resolution in his voice frightened her more than anything she had experienced in her captivity.

"I'll hate you forever if you do this," Jean screamed, nearly hysterical. Wild snarls of hair fell down in her face and spittle flew from her mouth. "I'll never speak to you again." A moment later Jean couldn't speak at all as a thick set of fingers sealed over her lips.

"She'll be alive to hate you," said Voldemort softly. "Choose, Mr. Black. I will not offer again.

Jean was in a tangle of limbs. Arms struggled to hold her as her own clutched at the fingers wrapped around her mouth. Jean was nearly wheezing and her legs were beginning to give out beneath her. Her eyes widened, feeling a holstered wand tucked inside a sleeve.

Over the edge of her captor's knuckles, Jean watched James reach forward and grab Sirius by the robes. Remus attempted to do the same, but a growl from Fenrir rooted him to the spot as the werewolf continued to stare him down. "Sirius be sensible," said James, trying to be firm even as his own hazel eyes darted over to Jean's wilting body. "This isn't helping and you know it."

"I don't have a choice, James." Jean didn't know if Sirius was talking to James or to himself. "I don't have any other choice."

"Sirius," said Frank. "We need to regroup. We know that she's alive."

"Not for much longer," goaded Bellatrix in a high playful voice.

Sirius rounded on Bellatrix. "If you threaten her again—"

"Argh!" One of the Death Eaters holding Jean released her, a row of pinkened teeth marks in the meat of his palm. Jean yanked the Death Eater's wand out of his sleeve, nearly jerking the holster out with it. Flailing around, Jean arced the wand back over her shoulder. A shower of sparks stung her back, the Death Eater behind her crying out as they released their hold. High on adrenaline, desperation, and fury Jean whirled around, aiming the stranger's wand at Voldemort. Jean wasn't entirely sure what spell she screamed at the Dark Lord but at scramble of consonants created a jagged bolt of white light, cracking though the air towards his chest.

Voldemort smoothly lifted his wand and deflected the spell, parrying it into the cluster of black-cloaked Death Eaters scrambling to get out of the way. The spell hit the ground with a thunderous boom, cracking the floor and knocking several Death Eaters off their feet. Voldemort pulled out his wand. "Kill them!"

The entire tableau was suddenly thrown into motion. James and Frank charged at Voldemort, firing a flurry of spells. Fenrir Greyback launched himself at Remus who barely lifted his wand in time to protect himself. Through the sea of hoods, Jean spied a flash of red as Lily, twirling like a dancer, dueled two Death Eaters at once. Jean shifted to face the two Death Eaters stomping towards her, one with a bleeding hand, the other with smoke rising from his shoulder. "Expelliarmus!"

Jean ducked, moving more from muscle memory than present ability. She jerked around a red beam of light from the second Death Eater, feeling the heat of the spell on her stomach. "Immobulus!" Jean spun again, already feeling winded.

"Stupefy!" Jean wheezed, shooting wide.

"Pertrificus Totalus!" Jean flinched expecting the spell to hit her square in the back. It raced over her shoulder, hitting a Death Eater in the chest. The Death Eater's arms snapped to his sides and his legs locked, falling to the floor with a slam. Sirius moved forward with sharp, purposeful strides. He looked murderous. His wand rolled through his fingers with a practiced ease, aiming at the other Death Eater before he could even shift. "Levicorpus!"

With an undignified yelp, the Death Eater was flipped upside down, dangling by his ankle. Jean gasped, desperately trying to stay upright. Jean reached out to Sirius like he was life ring amidst crashing waves, her stolen wand nearly falling from her fingers. "Sirius," she said, sputtering over her syllables.

The clouds rolled away from his eyes, leaving them clear and over bright. Sirius closed the distance between them with a few quick steps, pulling her tightly to his chest. "Jean," he breathed out, his voice high and tight. "You're okay. Are you okay? Merlin, you're bleeding."

Jean was only partially aware of Sirius' hands pawing at her. She clutched the front of his robes with a vice like grip, fearful that if she let go he would fade into nothing.

"Sirius!" Alice called out, blocking a spell from a couple of Death Eaters she dueled at once. "Rictusempra!" One Death Eater collapsed, doubled over holding his middle, paralyzed by laughter. "We have this," Alice continued. "Get her out."

Sirius nodded once before looping his arm under Jean's, attempting to prop her up against him. "Come on," her muttered quickly, "we've got to go."

The world swayed like the deck of a ship as Jean limped alongside Sirius, her face pressed into his shirt. They barely made it a dozen steps before Bellatrix glided in front of them, her wand balanced on the end of her fingers. "Leaving so soon, Sirius?" she said playfully.

Sirius lifted his wand. "Get out of my way," he said evenly.

"Crucio!" Bellatrix cried out in response.

Jean felt herself being shoved to the side as Sirius dodged the spell. It took all of her effort to stand now as Sirius and Bellatrix dueled each other, wands flashing a spectrum of colors, their wrists nearly clacking together from how close they were.

"You've caused enough trouble, mudblood," Jean heard someone growl. She turned in time to see two burly Death Eaters charging at her, one brandishing a wand. "Incendio!"

"Portego!" Jean gasped, wrapping a silvery shield around her body. The fire was tinged with tongues of blue and she felt the strength of the spell reverberating through the core of her wand. The edges of her flimsy wards were curling in on itself like warped glass. Magical fissures creeped deeper into its center. Jean tried to pull more strength from within her to bolster the spell, but she had no more energy to give. Jean only had moments before the protective magic shattered.

"Jean!" Jean drowsily searched for the source of the voice. It could have been Sirius, it could have been Alice, it could have been Dobby for all she knew. Jean blinked owlishly as the column of fire abruptly faded. One Death Eater howled, pulling off his silver mask, revealing eyes that were pink and pus filled. The other fell to his knees, his hands covered in red, pulsing lesions. Jean fell to her knees, wand rolling out of her hands.

"Locomotor Mortis!" Sirius called out, spinning on his heel to fire a spell back at his cousin. Bellatrix yelped as her legs locked together. She stumbled for a step before gracelessly falling over. Sirius kicked her wand out of her fingers, before scrambling over to Jean, deaf to Bellatrix's yowling. "Hey," he said, seizing her shoulders. "Come on, get up. We have to go."

Jean's breath hitched, looking around anxiously, her fingers skimming the floor. "Where's my wand? Give me a wand."

"Jean, please," Sirius begged. "You have to get up."

"I need a wand," Jean repeated.

Sirius hauled Jean upright, practically dragging her forward. "We're getting out. I am getting you out—James!"

Jean watched James fly back several feet, slamming into a wall before crumpling into a heap. Frank was still on his feet in front of him, continuing to survive Voldemort's assault of spells.

"James!" Lilly cried out, her voice breaking. She sprinted over leaving one Death Eater clinging to a wall sconce as his legs jigged about beneath him and another flat on his back, his nose ballooning up like a beach ball. Lily shot a pale blue spell at Voldemort's shoulder. "Leave them alone."

Jean gasped as an emerald beam of light barely missed Lily, exploding a window overhead. Lily crawled through a shower of glass to get to James while the latter pulled himself back onto his feet, rolling his shoulder. Alice was also clamoring to get to the trio, levitating whatever chair, table, or candlestick that was in her path and hurling it back towards the Death Eaters that pursued her.

Remus all the while was locked in combat with Fenrir Greyback, Remus fighting with a wand and Fenrir with his ferocity. Remus looked pale and winded, his hair plastered to his forehead. He stared at Fenrir with a look of muted horror, like he was gazing at a twisted reflection of himself. Fenrir grinned, snapping his teeth tauntingly. "Come on," he goaded, "show me how a trained wolf fights."

"Flippendo!" Remus called out, his voice reedy.

The thin crimson beam hit Fenrir square in the chest but he muscled through it, a foot falter the only sign of the spell making any impact at all. Sirius let out a cry of warning and Jean felt all of her blood drop to her feet at the four long gashes Fenrir slashed through Remus' chest. Remus fell to the ground with a grunt, weakly back-pedaling as Fenrir bore down on him.

"Lumos Solem!" Jean turned her head into Sirius' shoulder as the blinding flair of light erupted from his wand. Fenrir's howl pitched into a dog like keen. He stumbled backwards, palms pressed into his eyes. Sirius weaved around the hulking mass, towing Jean along with him.

Sirius seized Remus' wrist and hauled him to his feet. "Can you stand?" he asked.

"Yeah." Remus' voice was as wobbly as his legs.

Sirius roughly transferred Jean over to Remus' shoulders. "Take her," he said urgently. "Go, I'll cover you."

Sirius turned and aimed his wand at Fernir, who straightened, his eyes watering. He was flanked by Death Eaters, who hung back far enough to be out of eye line of the werewolf who was finished playing with his food. Fenrir growled. "After I kill that mudblood and that mutt, I'm—"

Sirius flicked his wand and a small spell slapped Fenrir across the face. "You talk too much," Sirius said quietly.

Remus did not give Jean the opportunity to gape as Sirius and Fenrir throwing themselves at each other. Remus physically turned Jean and the two toddled towards the entrance of the now ruined great room.

"Come on, Jean," Remus panted. "We're nearly there." Remus pulled her along inch by inch.

Suddenly, the two oaken doors thrown open by her rescuers snapped shut. Jean flinched at the series of pops like corn in a kettle. Five Death Eaters, fresh for the fight, lined the doorway, drawing their wands. "Oh God," Remus whispered. They fired.

It was a war zone. Plaster was exploding off the walls and the floor was coming up in splinters. Lily, James, Alice and Frank were pinned in a corner, surrounded by destroyed furniture in a makeshift barricade. Lily and Alice held up a magical shield while Frank and James threw spells at Voldemort and the many Death Eaters slowly closing ranks. Sirius fought Fenrir and the other pair of Death Eaters in unending waves, throwing one back only to be engaged with another. Remus also lifted a barrier, already buckling from magical blasts. Jean cupped her hands over her ears, muffling the sounds of her friends' frantic dialogue, the hailstorm of magic, and Bellatrix's manic laughter as she lay on the floor.

"There's too many of them!"

"What do we do?!"

"The shield's breaking!"

"Jean, I can't hold it."

BOOM.

For a moment, Jean thought the mansion was falling in around her. The double doors were blown open with such force they put dents in the walls. Jean let out a little breath as Dumbledore smoothly slid his wand back into his robes. "Good evening, Tom," he said smoothly.

Jean stumbled forward, drawn to Dumbledore like a magnet. She didn't see the Death Eaters Disapparate around her or Sirius moving forward, reaching for her carefully. A lightness bloomed from deep within her body, an almost crushing sense of relief that left Jean both boneless and bone tired. Jean felt herself falling, but couldn't remember what to tell her body to keep that from happening. Jean felt a hand on her and tried to shake it off. She couldn't let the Death Eaters have her again. But, the hand held firm and there was another, and another. Distantly, she heard someone calling her name.

"No…give me a wand…I need a wand."

Jean didn't realize she had passed out until she came to again. The silence caused her ears to ring and the light above her hurt her eyes. She squinted, turning away, and felt a starched, over-fluffed pillow beneath her head. She blinked rapidly, her white washed vision coming into focus. Jean was in a small olive colored room that made her nauseous, folded into a narrow bed with coverings tightly tucked under the mattress. Despite the initial brightness, the wall lights were dim, casting long gangly shadows on the people with her.

James and Frank were braced on either side of the door like twin pillars of stoicism. Both were still wearing their Auror uniforms, now dirtied and frayed at the edges. Lily was sitting with her elbow propped up on a table, staring down any the ground. The limb competed for space with a large bouquet of sunflowers squeezed into a vase. Jean could read from her bed Marlene's large loopy handwriting on the 'Get Well Soon' card, Mary and Dorcas' signature skirting the edge. Lily sported a half a dozen cuts and bruises but was otherwise unscathed. On the other side of the room, almost beyond Jean's line of vision was Remus propped up in the only remaining chair. His ruined shirt was unbuttoned and bandages were wrapped around his chest. His head was tilted back against the wall, sandy hair collecting around her shoulders, dozing.

Jean felt a weight on her chest and looked down, a faint smile tugging at her mouth. Sirius' head was resting on her middle, one arm brushing up against her hand and the other slung across her body. He was dead asleep.

Jean pulled her eyes away from Sirius, the small movement catching Lily's attention. Lily's emerald eyes widened and she brought her fingers to her lips. She made a small warble of a sound before quickly walking over to Jean, careful not to disturb Sirius. "Hey," said Lily, her voice like soothing rain. "Hey you're alright."

"Am I dreaming?" asked Jean, her voice raspy.

Lily shook her head. She gave Jean a strange look, a look she couldn't place. "No you're not dreaming. You're at St. Mungo's. You're safe now."

Jean sank back into her pillows, letting out a long sigh, trying with mixed success to quell the hammering in her heart. From her slumped position, she looked up at Lily. She looked tired. There were bruise colored rings around he eyes. Her hair was limp and had lost some of its luster. Lily fretted with Jean's pillows almost to reassure herself that Jean was actually there. Jean couldn't blame her. She felt like all she had to do was blink and she'd be back in that basement. "How long was I asleep?" asked Jean.

"You've been in and out for two days. It's a little after noon, now."

Jean nodded, her body freezing when she noticed a thick layer of bandages covering her forearm. There were flecks of blood sprinkling the linen. When she touched it, her entire limb throbbed painfully. "How long…." Jean swallowed and tried again. "How long was I gone?"

Lily's soft smile shattered. She nervously threaded he fingers through Jean's. "A little over a month," said Lily quietly.

Jean let out a thin stream of breath before canting her head back to the ceiling. "It felt longer than that."

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," said Lily. "Don't want you to get worked up again."

"What do you mean?" asked Jean.

"Well," said Lily, running an awkward hand through her hair. "You've just been having a lot of nightmares, you know, like before. We've been giving you Droughts of Dreamless Sleep to keep you from screaming."

Jean tensed, poorly hiding it. "What was I saying?"

Jean saw Lily pale slightly. "He's dead. They're all dead."

Jean's eyes tightened shut and suppressed a shudder. Lily drew the blankets tighter around Jean's body. "Did everyone make it out okay?" Jean's voice came out strangled.

"Remus is pretty banged up," said Lily. "Nothing but cuts and bruises for the rest of us. When Dumbledore arrived all of the Death Eaters started Dissapparating. Even, well…You-Know-Who."

"Don't call him that," said Jean. "His name is Voldemort." Jean ignored Lily's slight flinch at the name.

Jean glanced at Remus again. She was surprised he wasn't in a hospital bed himself after the way Greyback went after him. Jean's eyes widened and her head snapped back to Lily. "Remus. Lily, everyone knows. Everyone in that room heard what Greyback said."

Lily nodded stiffly, remaining silent.

"What's going to happen?" asked Jean quietly.

Lily heaved out a sigh that seemed to weigh down her entire body. "Remus quit his job as a precaution. Beyond that, I don't know."

There was a soft knock at the door and Lily's head whipped around, her hand reaching for her wand. Frank and James also jumped to attention and Jean realized with a jolt that they were more than just visitors. They were her bodyguards. Frank nodded at James and curled his fingers around the wand strapped to his belt. James swung open the door and Alice walked in, her heels clicking against the linoleum. A silver tray laden with bottles and a plate of food hovered at her shoulder. "I've brought more pain medication and another round of dreamless sleep. Oh, you're awake."

"Hi Alice," said Jean weakly. "Are you my Healer?"

Alice nodded. "Lily and I have been switching off. How are you feeling today?" Like Lily before her, Jean noticed Alice giving her a strange look. It was almost pained.

"I'm really sore," Jean replied.

"I'm not surprised," said Alice. "You are…you were really hurt when we brought you in. Alice plucked a small vial containing a silvery blue liquid and passed it to Jean. "Here, this should take the edge off."

Jean dutifully sipped the potion, half listening to Lily and Alice's side conversation. "Is he sleeping? Good. I was ready to drug his food." Alice bustled over to Remus, turning his head to rest at a more natural angle. "We should get the Healer from the Bite Unit to come look at this," said Alice, hastily gesturing at Remus' chest.

"He's had worse than this and bounced back," commented Lily.

"Well, you'd know better than I." Alice's tone was clipped.

"It wasn't my secret to tell."

Jean jumped when she felt Alice's fingers on her arm. "Let's see how this looks." Jean bit back a grimace. The ugly word was burned black against her skin. The tight knotted scarring had a sheen to it and even some of the arteries under her skin were stained by the dark magic. Alice ran her wand over the wound, a white light washing over it. The throbbing ache lessened somewhat but it did nothing for its appearances.

"Any luck?" asked Lily.

Alice shook her head. Jean curled her fingers, testing their movement. "It'll never fully heal," she said numbly.

"Doesn't mean I can't try," said Alice grimly. After a few minutes, Alice let out a breath of frustration. "We can try again later. It may be like a knot. Work at it long enough and it'll work itself out."

Jean watched as Alice's small fingers wrap fresh bandages around her forearm. In the muted light the gems on Alice's engagement ring shimmered. Jean reached up and clasped Alice's wrist, turning her hand to see the second golden band nestled against the first. "I missed you're wedding," said Jean stunned. A bubble of disappointment popped in her chest. "I'm sorry," she said pathetically.

"Oh, Jean," said Alice. "It wasn't your fault. Frank and I wanted to cancel, but Dumbledore said it would be dangerous for the Order if we all ran off there looking for you. Sirius wasn't there either…." Alice tapered off, looking at Sirius, still sleeping peacefully against Jean.

Lily looked worse for wear but Sirius looked awful. He was pale, and his cheeks were sunken in like he had barely eaten. His eyes were shadowed and deep in his face. There was a wrinkle cutting though his forehead. "Was he really that worried about me?" asked Jean.

"We all were," said Lily.

Jean reached out gently running her fingers through his hair. It felt coarse and snarled, like he had barely showered. Sirius stirred, turning into her touch, his eyes blinking open. He looked at her through the hazy film of sleep, as if she were a pleasant dream. He blinked once, then again, before his mind caught up with his reality. Jean felt Sirius stiffen, a look of timid hope rising onto his face. Jean laid her hand over his. "Hey," she said.

Without a word, Sirius pulled himself up her body, cupping her head with trembling fingers. His eyes were watery, like starlight reflected in a pool. He opened his mouth several times, his lips forming half syllables before closing again. He kissed her chastely on the crown of her head before pressing his forehead to hers. A heavy sigh of relief rattled out of his ribs. Jean lost herself in the feeling of Sirius' skin against her own. His fingers blazed trails of warmth along her skin, long chilled by the damp dark basement, easing the zings of pain that burrowed deep in her bones. Jean readjusted her hold on Sirius, rediscovering him hand over hand. "I was so worried," Sirius murmured, his lips pressed to Jean's temple.

Jean folded Sirius to her body. She felt her eyes misting over. "You're real," she said. "This is real."

Sirius nodded jerkily. "I'm real." Jean lost count of how many minutes they held each other, rocking back and forth in small arrhythmic movements.

Alice tapped the tray floating in the air and four claw-footed legs unfurled themselves from underneath like a lazy cat stretching. She set it on the bed. "You want to try to eat something?" she asked.

"I'm not hungry," said Sirius.

"I'm not currently hounding you, Black," said Alice. Jean briefly wondered how many times Alice and Sirius had had this talk. Alice turned to Jean, nudging the tray towards her. "Just a nibble, if you can."

It was a simple meal: a cheese sandwich, salted potato chips, and a glass of water. There was a part of Jean that knew she should be hungry and another part that was adamant she couldn't eat a bite. Jean pulled the crust off the sandwich and tore it into pieces, occasionally eating one of the ragged chunks. "Good, that's good," praised Alice. "At least someone eats when I tell them to."

Sirius scowled, deliberately picking up a chip and popping it into his mouth. "Happy?" he asked.

Jean pushed a few chips across the small plate towards Sirius. He shook his head. "I'll eat later." Jean pushed more chips in his direction before chewing on another bit of crust. Sirius rolled his eyes. "Fine." He took a handful of chips and bit down on them with an audible crunch.

Jean smiled, wincing slightly as her lips cracked. She swallowed dryly. "I'm thirsty," she rasped.

Sirius passed her the tall glass of water from his side of the tray. After a few timid sips, Jean began gulping not able to swallow enough. She gagged on a mouthful, water spilling over her lips and down her neck. "Careful," said Sirius, tipping the end of the glass back down. "Don't choke."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Jean sputtered, suddenly flustered.

"There's nothing you need to be sorry for," said Sirius.

Jean coughed a couple more times before it morphed into a yawn. "I don't know why I'm so tired. I just woke up."

"Don't worry about it," said Lily, "if you need to sleep, then sleep."

"Before you do though," said Alice uncorking the Draught of Dreamless Sleep and sliding it over to Jean. "Take this first."

Jean eyed it skeptically, not reaching for it. "What's wrong?" asked Alice.

"Do I have to take it?" Jean asked.

"I would recommend it," said Alice. "You haven't been able to sleep well without it."

"But what if…" Jean's own voice choked her. "What if something happens? What if they try to take me again? I won't be safe."

"Jean," said Sirius, easing the tray off of Jean and setting it on the floor. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, taking both of Jean's hands in his own. "I know you're scared. But, nothing's going to happen. And if something does, it's got to get through Frank, James, and most importantly me, to get to you. You're safe. I swear it." The fierce determination that sharpened the edges of his eyes grew soft. He took the small dram from Alice and extended it to Jean. "Please," he added, "just focus on feeling better and let us take care of the rest."

Jean worried on the inside of her lip, nearly drawing blood, but stopping short. "Okay," she said, tossing the potion back before she could change her mind.

Jean felt immediately weightless as Sirius maneuvered her back into the bedding. Sirius perched on the edge of it, his bent elbow propped on the metal headboard, holding his head up with his hand. He reached down and tucked and errant curl behind her ear. Jean thought he looked sad. "I love you," he mouthed.

Are you going to sleep, too?" Jean's voice was slurred.

"If you want me to," said Sirius. Jean thought for a moment and then nodded. "Okay."

Jean didn't last long enough to see if Sirius actually went to sleep. Her vision dissolved around her and Lily was swimming through air as she walked back to James. "The others should here soon," she heard him say. Jean fell back into the embrace of a dreamless sleep. It was like lying on a black-sanded beach with waves crashing over her body. They covered her head, wrapping her in liquid cocoon. Every so often they would fall away and she could hear sounds from the worlds above her, lazy planets sailing through an empty sky.

"It's…only…safe…can't be…understand…this…is absolutely ridiculous."

Jean peeled her eyes open, somehow even groggier than when she first awoke. Jean had more visitors. Replacing Frank and Alice were Fabian and Gideon Prewett lounging against the door as her present pair of burly gatekeepers. Dumbledore was front and center in her line of vision. He was sitting in a small chair placed at the foot of her bed. Edgar Bones and Alastor Moody were also standing on either side. Bones was straight backed in official looking robes while Moody was cross-armed, his dark eyes staring pointedly across the room. Lily was folded up in a chair, her baggy Healer scrubs falling over her feet, staring blankly down at the be-speckled linoleum floor. James was standing, a bracing hand on Remus' shoulder.

Remus was furious. All traces of exhaustion had been burned away by rage. His teeth were bared and his hands were balled into fists. "I will not accept this. It's insanity."

"It's already done, Remus," said Bones. "Informing you was s courtesy."

"Then undo it!" Remus looked around, his eyes snapping to each of his friends, searching for something and clearly not finding it. "Sirius," he said, his voice nearly breaking. "Sirius, please. Please tell me you're not okay with this. She deserves justice."

Sirius looked like he had just woken up and could use a few more days of rest at the same time. His hair was tousled on one side and there was a blanket thrown over his shoulders. There was a tract of shadowy stubble on his jaw. "Moony," he said running a hand over his face. "I just got Jean back. I don't want to trade her life for yours. Jean would feel the same, you know it."

"They tortured her!" Remus nearly shrieked.

"Potter and I would have to take you to Azkaban," said Moody gruffly. "Tonight."

"Then lock me up!"

"Hey, Jean," through the throngs of people Gideon waved a meaty hand at Jean. "You have a nice nap?"

Jean felt a hand on her shoulder. "Hey," said Sirius, his voice both gentle and strained. "Sorry we woke you, sweetheart. Try to get some more sleep. We can take this outside."

"She deserves to know. Look her in the eye and tell her," said Remus darkly.

"Watch your tone, Lupin," growled Moody.

All through the exchange Dumbledore's warm eyes watched Jean over the rims of his half moon spectacles. He had that same strange look as Alice and Lily had before him, a discomfort that soured his pleasantness. "Hello, Jean," he said. "I'm glad to see you're recovering."

"What's going on?" Jean asked, climbing out of her valley of pillows.

James heaved out a sigh. His face was pale, but his hazel eyes behind his glasses were fierce. "Dumbledore just gave us some…some news." James ignored Remus' scoff.

Edgar stepped forward, both of his hands curled around the metal railings of her bed. "Dumbledore, Moody and I had to make some quick decisions regarding the aftermath of your rescue. We discussed this at length." Jean thought that Edgar looked uncomfortable. "We decided—"

"There's not going to be a trial," said Moody, ever getting to the point. "No arrests. It'll be as if it never happened."

Jean stared at the assemblage, blinking. She didn't know is she was stunned into silence or if that's numb feeling filling her body had been there long before. "I see," she managed.

"Fenrir Greyback revealed what—who Remus is to at least a dozen people. Remus broke into the Malfoy home. With Remus being a werewolf, Lucius would be well within his rights to—" Edgar cut himself off and Jean saw that he took no joy in what he was saying. "I would have no choice but to declare him a threat to the public. Moody would have orders to take him to Azkaban to await a trial that most certainly wouldn't go well for him."

"So be it," said Remus.

"Remus, don't say that. You could be in jail for the rest of your life."

"It's my choice," said Remus, rounding on Lily.

"Dumbledore is also concerned about other secrets of the Order that could possibly be reveled to or by Death Eaters if this got out," Moody added gruffly, "a concern he and I both share."

Jean's eyes drifted knowingly over to Dumbledore's, an entire conversation passing between the blue and the brown. That was the real reasoning. Jean Granger couldn't go before the whole Wizengamot to accuse a powerful wizard of kidnapping and torture all on the orders of Lord Voldemort if Jean Granger wasn't supposed to exist. "What about Malfoy?" Jean asked, clinically calm. "Just because I don't say anything doesn't mean he won't."

"No." Remus scrambled over to Jean's bed, kneeling to the point that he was beneath her. His hands were clutching the coverlets and his eyes were wild. "You don't have to be okay with this," he said. "It isn't fair."

Jean looked over at Remus, here eyes softening. "Neither is having you locked away in Azkaban," she said with a wearied finality. Jean flicked her shadowed eyes up to Edgar Bones and nodded for him to continue.

"We offered Lucius Malfoy a deal," said Bones.

"A deal?" Jean croaked.

Edgar nodded, "A man like Malfoy loves power and Dumbledore informed me this evening that a position on Hogwarts' board of governors is conveniently open. If all of this remains secret he keeps the position in perpetuity."

Jean nodded as years of her childhood suddenly made sense. "He'd like that," she mumbled to herself. Lucius would do anything to keep such a posting, or silence anyone. Jean imagined that Voldemort would like this arrangement as well. A Death Eater always in Dumbledore's business. Dumbledore has sacrificed a pawn to save the queen, only in this particular game, both pieces were the same person. "So it's done then?" she asked.

"Yes," said Edgar, glumly. "There's an owl on the way to the Daily Prophet as we speak with the announcement."

Remus keened, his fingers fisting his hair, rocking back on his heels. Jean felt Sirius fingers run over her shoulder blades like an apology.

"Moony," said James, cautiously stepping forward.

Remus practically threw himself away from James, staggering to his feet. He breathed audibly through his nose, as if he were doing everything in his power to hold in his anger and self-loathing. He let out a huff in frustration and kicked the end table next to him. Marlene's flower arrangement wobbled in its vase before Remus whirled around and left in a flurry of ruined robes. Gideon and Fabian barely had time to get out of the way before the door snapped shut between them.

"Remus," James called out, scrambling after him. "Remus, come back." Jean heard James' voice fading down the hallway.

Sirius braced his elbows on his knees, rubbing his temple with his thumb. Lily stood briskly out of her chair, attempting to busy her hands. "I'll go make some tea," she said, "and bring back your next round of medication, Jean."

"I'll take a cup with lemon if you please," said Dumbledore pleasantly.

"Of course, Headmaster." Lily slipped out the door through gap between the Prewett brothers' broad shoulders. Jean idly wondered if Lily was actually making tea or was looking for an excuse to go chase after James and Remus. Moody looked over his shoulder and nodded at Fabian who shut the door with a firm click.

"Are we secure, Alastor?" asked Dumbledore.

"Well enough," he responded.

Sirius straightened to the best of his ability, his shoulders still slumped over from fatigue. "Before we leave and let you rest," continued Edgar. "Albus, Alastor and I would like to know if you recognized any of the Death Eaters that abducted you, or if you discovered any of their names."

"Can't you see that she's exhausted," said Sirius, a barb of exasperation in his voice. "Why do you even need to know? We can't take them to trial."

"Our hands may be tied by the Ministry, but this information is vital to the Order," said Moody. "And I'm sure you can also find a reason or two to have a random house raid or some such on these persons, can't you Bones?"

Jean lifted an incredulous eyebrow at the Head of Magical Law. "You can do that?"

Edgar pulled out a navy gold tipped quill and a small roll of parchment from the folds of his well-tailored robes. "You just leave that to me," he said in what could only be described as cheeky.

Jean swallowed a chuckle and looked down at her hands. Her bones were prominent in her wrists, the left almost eclipsed by the thick swath of bandages. "Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback, obviously," said Jean. "Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Then there was a man names Wilkes and another man names Rosier."

"Evan Rosier," Edgar prompted over the scratching of his quill.

"I think so," said Jean. Jean recalled the younger faces of the Death Eaters she knew from before. "There was Antonin Dolohov, Walden Macnair, and Igor Karkaroff."

"Karkaroff?" said Moody, in a rare tone of surprise. "You know him?"

"I've heard of him," said Jean. "Isn't he the High Master of Durmstrang?"

"He teachers," Dumbledore corrected quickly.

"Right," said Jean. Jean wondered how many Death Eaters she knew in that room that were merely hidden by a mask: Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Barty Crouch Jr., Avery, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle. Jean jerked away from the temptation. It was too much of a gamble. "That's everyone," said Jean, her voice neutral.

There was a quick knock at the door and Gideon slid out of the way to open it. Lily walked by in, her lips pinched tight. Neither James nor Remus were with her. "Here's your tea, Headmaster."

Dumbledore graciously accepted the plain porcelain teacup while Edgar Bones pocketed his quill and scrap of parchment. "Well," he said, "I'll take this back to the Ministry and see what I can do with it. Will you be joining me Moody?" Moody grunted in the affirmative.

"I'd like to speak with Jean for a moment longer," said Dumbledore, wisps of steam swirling around his silvery beard. "Privately."

"Can't it wait, Albus," said Sirius. "Look at her."

"I'm afraid it can't," said Dumbledore, a firm edge around his pleasantries.

Sirius began to open his mouth in protest but Jean laid her hand on his, rubbing a small circle into his thumb. "It's alright," she whispered.

Sirius let out a long sigh, his body visibly deflating. Sirius gave her the look that she was getting used to, but still couldn't place.

"Come on, Sirius," said Gideon. He swung his arm across Sirius' shoulders and steered him outside. "Lily, where does the Welcome Witch keep the good crisps?" The door closed on Sirius, Lily and the Prewett brothers leaving Jean and Dumbledore alone in the little room.

Jean watched Dumbledore take another sip of tea, squeeze the tiny wedge of lemon, and settle the little cup in its saucer. "Does he know anything?"

Jean inclined her head, knowing exactly whom he was referring to. "No," she said simply, "but it was close. Too close."

"Good," said Dumbledore, a note of relief in his voice. "We'll have to be more careful. He will be suspicious."

Jean nodded not really listening. The pair sat in relative silence, Dumbledore watching Jean and Jean looking but not really seeing anything. Jean slumped back into the pillows and closed her eyes, not sure if the tear that rolled down her face was caused by the harsh hospital lighting. Images of Bellatrix flickered across her lids like a grainy kineograph. In each frame the dark haired witch was older, then younger. She was wielding a knife, then pressing her wand into Jean's writhing wrist. Ron's pale face, slackened by death rested in Jean's lap, then Sirius was pointing his wand at her, his face white with rage. "Jean," Dumbledore's voice kneaded its way inside her head. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

Jean let out a watery sound trapped in the back of her throat. "It's like I was right back in it," she murmured, "back before." Jean gestured vaguely with her hand before it flopped back down on the bed. Jean looked at Dumbledore, her eyes blank and glassy. "I can't do this again, Albus."

Dumbledore nodded, his face sad. "I know how you feel," he said quietly.

"How?" asked Jean.

Dumbledore smiled but there was no mirth to it. "This is not the first wizarding war I have fought, Miss Granger, and, like you, I've stood in its ruins having lost everything."

Jean felt abashed. "I'm sorry," she said. "I knew that." Jean drew her legs up to her chest and dropped her chin down onto her knees. "I know too much," she said into the bed sheets.

"Another thing we unfortunately have in common," said Dumbledore.

"That's not entirely true, Albus," said Jean. Jean pulled her head up to look at Dumbledore, his expression guarded. "Albus," said Jean, her voice pleading. "Now…no that the war has started, I could tell you about—"

"No, Jean," said Dumbledore.

"—but, I could save so many lives. I promised Harry. There's a traitor—"

"Stop, Jean."

"—you don't understand! He won't die. He can't die—"

"I said stop!"

Jean's mouth clicked shut. She felt like the air was vibrating around her. Dumbledore let out a deliberate breath and smoothed his beard over his mauve robes. "You need to understand that there are consequences for even good intentions." In all the years that she had known him, Jean had never heard Dumbledore speak like this. It was not kindness, nor was it anger. It was bitterness knotted together with a deeply seeded sense of regret. "If I were a younger man I would have heard all you had to say before now. But, back then, when I truly believed I was destined to be the greatest sorcerer who ever lived, back when I tried to bend fate to my will and whims….carried such an arrogance in me that I could dictate even who lived and who died….what it cost me…." Dumbledore broke off and quickly moved his glasses higher up his once broken nose. Jean thought of the faded snapshot of a red headed man with long, thin fingers, his arm casually slung over another who had feathered hair so light it was nearly platinum. Jean thought about the painting of a young girl with bright blue eyes tucked away and almost forgotten in the Hog's Head. "You'll forgive me if I don't tempt myself again," said Dumbledore.

Jean's body collapsed on itself in defeat. There was an ache settling in her neck, slowly expanding down her spine. She brushed knotted curl away from her face. "I can't just stand aside and do nothing."

"I don't expect you to," said Dumbledore.

Jean looked up at Dumbledore long and steady; two seasoned warriors looking out onto the same front. "What should I do?"

"I don't think Moody would mind if you joined Frank, Fabian and the other auors out on field missions. As you know, Mr. Fenwick has been training Lily, Alice, Marlene and Dorcas. They will join you as well." Jean nodded, if she could not be their sword then she could at least be their shield. But sword or shield alike to protect them, she must also endanger them.

"Won't Voldemort just try to capture me again?" said Jean, "if he suspects something about me?"

"I think if we hide you away somewhere then Voldemort will know you are someone worth hiding."

"I guess I'll just have to not be captured then," said Jean grimly.

If Dumbledore was going to say anything else it was interrupted by a timid knock at the door, startling Jean. "Headmaster," Lily's voice called through the wood, "can we come in?"

Dumbledore smoothly stood. "You may." He had barely finished his reply before the door swung open and Lily and Sirius entered. Sirius swiftly brushed past Dumbledore and bent down over Jean. "You okay?" he asked, as if he's been gone for five days instead of fifteen minutes.

"Mm-hm," said Jean, hoping she didn't look dead on her feet.

If Sirius saw through her façade he didn't comment on it. "You ready to go home?"

"I can leave?" said Jean, giving a confused look to Lily.

Lily nodded. "Medically, you don't have any more reason to stay. All you need now is rest."

For Jean, the thought of going home had been such a far off concept that being so close to it now was just as unsettling as her cell. "Will you visit?"

"Of course," said Lily, "every day if you want."

"And James and Remus?" she added.

"Whomever you want," said Sirius. "Let's just get you home first before you invite over everyone we know."

Dumbledore hid a small behind his beard lingering by the half open door. "I'll leave Miss Granger in your capable hands," he said, "I must go and inform the other school governors of the newest member of the board." Jean didn't miss the Dumbledore's hesitation, the lingering look at Sirius and herself, or the way his finger tapped against the doorknob. "Jean," he said, his voice neutral. "The person you mentioned. Do you think you can handle him?"

Jean worried on the inside of her cheek, debating what to say and, more importantly, what not. She briefly wondered how Dumbledore seemed to intuitively know that the traitor was male. "I think so," she said.

"I'll leave you to it then," said Dumbledore, brightening up his tone. "Oh and Miss Evans, you should receive my RSVP to your nuptials in your morning post." Sirius helped Jean sit up as Dumbledore closed the door behind him.

"When I was younger," said Lily, "I thought growing up would help me make sense of that man, but all it's done is make him more mysterious."

"You and me both," said Sirius.

"Anyways," said Lily, turning her attention back to Jean, "do you need anything before you go? Pain potions? Another Draught of Dreamless sleep?"

"I think I'll be fine," said Jean.

"Okay." Lily flashed a glance at Sirius and Jean anticipated there would be an entire pharmacy on their windowsill by the next day."

Sirius looped his arm under Jean's shoulders and eased her out of bed. Jean looked down at her shapeless puce hospital pajamas and how her bare feet wobbled like a newborn calf.

"Are we going to Apparate?" said Jean with trepidation.

"Oh, heavens no," said Lily. "Sirius would have to bring you right back. I'm going to use a spell I learned in my Healer training.

On any other day, Lily would have had Jean's rapt attention, however today, all Jean could do was lean heavily against Sirius' body, not even faking an interest. Lily looped her wand over her head. "Reverteur In Terram."

Jean felt an odd sensation of running though a torrent of rain. It was cold and blinding. Jean rubbed at her eyes, trying to blink her vision clear. When it did she saw, dimly lit by hallway lighting, the lopsided lion-shaped doorknocker of she and Sirius' flat. Jean's couldn't tear her eyes away from the tarnished, tacky, ornament, completely oblivious of Sirius fumbling with the key and escorting her inside.

It was like stepping back into a life that didn't entirely belong to her anymore. Jean knew everything so well, but there was a foreignness that made her uncomfortable. Jean was almost irritated at how ordinary everything seemed, at how non-pulsed her surroundings were in light of her absence. Sirius eased her down onto the couch before drifting away from her into the kitchen. Jean was sitting in what seemed to be a nest of blankets. There was a pile of dirty plates collected at her ankles. Empty glasses and half drunk bottles of fire whiskey littered the end tables or gathered dust in the corners of the room. Most noticeably, the fireplace had been bricked shut, clumsily lain but tightly mortared. It looked liked Sirius had hurled the bricks at the hearth.

Jean jumped at the sudden movement beside her, straining her eyes in the dim lighting. Hephaestus kneaded her leg, his sour meow pitching into a whine. Jean gathered the cat into her lap, folding her fingers though his coarse yet soft hair. "Hey, you," she said.

"He's been unbearable," said Sirius, coming back into the small den. "He ate holes through my socks."

"He's not the only one who has been destructive," said Jean, still taking her surroundings. "Did you sleep out here?"

"Not all the time," said Sirius. It felt awkward, the two of them. A pat-de-deux that came so natural was now an ungainly exchange of side glances, a chaste touch, and polite conversation. Hephaestus clambered out of Jean's lap when Sirius knelt in front of her, passing a teacup full of room temperature orange juice into her clumsy fingers.

"Sorry," said Sirius sheepishly. "I ran out of clean glasses a few days ago."

"Sirius," said Jean, immediately setting the cup aside amongst the clutter and trash. "You can't fall apart like this if…" Jean choked on her own voice, not even wanting to cater to the notion of being captured again.

Sirius tilted his head down, staring at nothing. "I know," he mumbled. In a flurry of motion that startled Jean, Sirius pressed a hand to his face, his back curling. He made a small strangled sound, his breath hitching. "I'm so…so…sorry," he said, his voice wobbling.

Jean wanted to reach out to him, to gather him in her arms and hold him till all the hurting stopped, but she was just so tired. "It wasn't your fault," she said, her voice monotone.

"They took you because of me."

"They took me because they are Death Eaters and that's what they do."

Sirius sighed, his shoulders bowed. Sirius touched his chin to her knees, lifting his eyes up to Jean. "I would never have forgiven myself if something had happened to you."

"Neither would I," said Jean.

"What do you mean?" asked Sirius.

"Sirius," said Jean, she didn't know where this barb in her voice came from. "You nearly gave yourself to Voldemort to save me. You shouldn't…you shouldn't have done that."

"I was trying to protect you." Jean caught the bristle in Sirius' voice.

"Yes, but Voldemort knows you have a line now, a line you're willing to cross. And so do they."

Sirius' face darkened; in the half-light he looked skeletal, like he just escaped from Azkaban. "The Order knows I would never betray them," said Sirius evenly.

"They don't know that," said Jean. "They know that your mother and father kidnapped me, that your cousins tortured me. They know we're at war with half your family." Jean heaved herself up with the last burst of energy she had. Sirius made a sound of surprise, leaning forward to brace her. Jean's fingers shook at they dug into his robes. "Promise me. Promise me you won't do that again—ever. Nothing—no one—is that important."

Jean saw her eyes reflected in his, dark and fearful. Sirius reached up tracing the contours of Jean's face. He shook his head. "I can't promise that, Jean. I'm sorry."

Jean ground her teeth, her eyes screwing shut. A nervous energy was popping through her body and she was torn between shaking Sirius senseless and taking him to a pace where no one would find them ever again. Jean felt her stomach drop as Lucius Malfoy's bargain suddenly seemed appealing. Jean felt Sirius arms loop around her, pulling her close to him. "Are you angry with me?" he murmured into her hair.

"I'm angry that you mean it," she said.

The awkward pause stretched out between them like a lazy cat. Jean realized she wasn't the only one holding onto her life, like pieces of a puzzle knocked from a table, wondering if they should attempt to reassemble or put it back in the box. Sirius coughed to break the tension. "Is there anything you'd like? Are you hungry?" The attempt at normalcy was unnerving. It felt like a play and Sirius was an actor coming back late from work. Never the less, Jean attempted to act her part. "I think I'd like a bath actually," she said.

"Sure," said Sirius gently. "I'll help you get started."

Through the small window in their bathroom Jean looked at the sky, colored with smears of cornflower and lavender. "What time is it?" she asked.

"Almost morning," said Sirius, his voice echoing around the small space along with the rolling sounds of water filling the tub. "Do you need any help?" he asked.

Jean tugged at her floppy sleepwear. They smelled like sweat and cleaning solvents. She winced when she tried to pull them over her head, her shoulders screaming in resistance. "Please," she almost whimpered.

Sirius folded her out of her clothing like a tiny paper crane, tossing them into the misshapen mounds of his own unwashed clothes, damp with humidity and clearly stepped on. Jean let him move her around, gasping suddenly when he inadvertently angled her towards the mirror. Jean understood why everyone was looking at her strangely. She looked awful. Purple welt like bruises bloomed on her cheeks, jaw and temples. Her eyes were squinted and bloodshot and her hair was frayed and scraggly, almost colorless. Jean was vaguely surprised that her clothing didn't just fall off of her due to weight loss, her collarbone sharply jutting out from her chest. Jean brought both her hands up to her mouth, her garbled sound of distress reverberating through her body.

"It'll be okay," she heard Sirius say, his firm hands turning her away from the waifish visage. "It'll be alright."

Sirius eased her down into the steaming water, wincing along with her as her scrapes and cuts dipped under the surface. Jean rested her back against the curved slope of their claw footed tub, tilting her head up to the ceiling, all the while trying to untie the knot in her stomach. Jean felt Sirius pull her hair back from her shoulders, tying it up with a hair band. "There's a towel by the tub," said Sirius softly, "if you need anything just call."

Jean nodded, or at least she thought she did. Remembering things, even from moment to moment, was difficult. Through her half aware haze, Jean watched Sirius pad into his room, swiping the door shut, but not completely closing it. Through the sliver of a gap, Jean saw Sirius crumple onto his bed, which was more a tangle of sheets and exposed mattress than anything else. His body physically deflated with a sigh.

Jean pushed the lump of bar soap in lazy circles through the water. She looked up at the gathering dawn peeping cautiously through the little window. It felt strange to be so sleepy when everyone else was just starting her day. Her mind was tired and racing at the same time. For a moment, she thought about how Hermione had to pick herself up off a bathroom floor and start a new life as Jean. She wondered who she was now, Jean, Hermione or some strange new creature caught in the turbulence of their shared lives. Was she too to be dashed against the rocks along with everyone else the two beings living within her loved?

Jean felt something stick to her foot. She pulled it out of the tepid water, bracing it on the lip of the tub. Jean scowled when she saw a clot of lumpy black blood clinging to her toe. Jean submerged her foot, swirling it around in the water, bringing it back up after a beat. Her heart dropped like a stone. Her entire foot and ankle were covered in violently red blood. Jean jolted splashing water around. Not water, blood. The entire bathtub was filled with it. Jean scrambled forward, her chest covered in a heavy film of crimson. She turned on the tap and both the faucet and the showerhead exploded in red. Everything ran red. Jean felt like she was going to pass out her heart was hammering so fast. Jean's hands were slipping in the substance sliding back down into an ever-deeper tub as she tried to escape. It clung to her hair, washed into her mouth. Red. Red. Red. Jean shrieked, trying to rise once more only to fall back again.

"Jean! Jean!"

Jean felt herself being picked up, flailing about in the arms that held her. Her head snapped up to find Sirius illuminated in the half-light from the small bathroom window. His shirt was drenched and he had pulled half of the water out of the bath along with Jean.

"Hey," he said again, trying to cut through Jean's panic. "You're alright. You were dreaming."

Sirius' words did nothing to help her. Jean's gasped not able to get enough air and her body was shaking itself to pieces. "I…can't…stop."

Sirius readjusted his grip and Jean was vaguely aware of him carrying her somewhere. Sirius bent down and placed her in his unkempt bed. "Here," he said quickly. "Let me just get you some clothes."

"No, no!" shouted Jean, her voice breaking, frantically clinging to any part of him she could. "No!"

"Okay, it's okay." Sirius stripped off his soaked shirt and pants and allowed Jean to pull him into bed in just his underwear. "It's okay," he said, tucking her into his chest, his fingers gripping her tangled hair. "It's okay."

But it wasn't okay. It wasn't going to be okay. Jean felt Sirius' hand run up and down her bare back. She saw that he was speaking but could not hear him. She pressed her face into his chest, but it gave her little comfort to know that he was alive, that they all were alive, for the moment. "I don't want you to die."

Hello all my lovely readers! Wow I can't tell you how crazy this chapter was for me to write. I completely 5 drafts before I finally found one that worked for me. So here's me asking for a little reader to author feedback. Every time I post a chapter I get a lot of reviews saying 'when is Hermione going to tell everyone/it's silly she's not telling anyone' Now, I totally welcome critical reviews because every writer is a learning writer now matter how much they have written and this chapter was an attempt to justify why she hasn't informed anyone about the future and why she will continue to do so. Anywho, we get to look forward to some nice fluffy lemony chapters next cause it's Lily and James' wedding soon. Hugs and kisses all around let's get these two hitched.