89For the past year, Hermione and Ron ( and Harry, she thought with a sharp pang) had been so focused on the Horcruxes and Voldemort's ultimate defeat that she had given no consideration to the other ways a war could be fought, the enemy harassed and weakened and demoralized. If they could not kill him, they could enrage him and terrify his loyal followers.
"We do not have to bring down the Ministry," Narcissa says one day not long after her suggestion to undermine the Ministry, as Kreacher serves them their first proper dinner in - well, Hermione can't remember how long - as Bellatrix had decided she could spare Kreacher for a day. "We need only harass them. Chip away at their defenses, operations, morale..."
"How will that get us near the Horcrux? Won't You-Know-Who just guard it closer if he thinks we've got a way to get close?" Ron asks.
"It will make no difference. He is already aware you know about his Horcruxes. Their secrecy was part of what kept them safe. He does not have that any more nor does he know how many people hold that knowledge."
"He'll keep the snake close no matter what we do," Hermione concludes. Kreacher serves her a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes, the fake Slytherin locket around his neck that night. It's the first time she's seen him wear it, perhaps because he knows he will not be summoned by Bellatrix for a few hours still. Hermione swallows hard, a dull throbbing ache in her chest. "Thank you, Kreacher."
Kreacher eyes her but he does not say anything for a long moment. Eventually, he gives her a shallow bow. "It is Kreacher's pleasure to serve the friends of my former Master, who are trying to finish the work of my master before him."
Narcissa freezes, her spoon half-way to her mouth. Lowering it slowly, she stares at Hermione with a guarded frightful gaze. "'Master before him'? Does he mean Regulus? How do you know Regulus?"
"It's...it's nothing," Hermione stammers. She glances at Kreacher, whose expression is pained and wary. "So, uh, what were your ideas for..." At the look on Narcissa's face, she trails off.
"Kreacher," Narcissa says, a slight tremble to her voice, "what do they have to do with Regulus?"
Kreacher hesitantly begins, "Master Potter sought Master Regulus's locket to defeat the Dark Lord..."
Ron keeps his eyes on his plate while Kreacher speaks, telling the story of how Regulus died. Hermione watches Narcissa closely. It's difficult to read her expression to know what she's thinking. Tense, closed off, a little pale... Hermione lowers her eyes briefly, gaze landing on Narcissa's hands resting on the table: they're trembling.
When Kreacher finishes his story, Narcissa's eyes drop to the locket around Kreacher's neck. "Is that the fake? The one Regulus made?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Do you have his letter for the Dark Lord?"
"Yes, Mistress." Kreacher clutches at the locket.
Narcissa holds out a hand. "Show me."
He hesitates, boney fingers tightening on the locket.
"Show me!" Narcissa shouts, making Ron and Hermione jump and making Kreacher flinch. Trembling, he removes the locket from around his neck and holds it out toward Narcissa. She snatches it from him.
Hermione frowns at Narcissa. "Don't talk to him like that! I know you're upset but - "
"Upset?" Narcissa hisses. " Upset? I'm not upset." She spits the word like a curse. "I heard the rumors, the speculation, the Death Eaters jeering and calling him a coward - he wasn't any older than my son is now, than you, than Potter - I believed Bellatrix when she assured me the Dark Lord had nothing to do with Regulus's disappearance - Elf!"
Kreacher flinches away from her.
"Did anyone know what happened to Regulus?"
Kreacher shook his head. "Not even the Dark Lord knew Master Regulus had switched the lockets..."
"We destroyed the locket, Kreacher," Hermione says gently, feeling terrible about Narcissa's outbursts toward him. "I don't think we ever got the chance to tell you... We finished his part of the plan."
Kreacher sniffles and smiles. "Kreacher is happy to hear it." His expression darkens. "But the Dark Lord still lives. Master Regulus's mission is not yet finished."
"It will be, Kreacher, I promise you," Hermione says, a little choked up, thinking, We'll avenge Harry too.
Narcissa opens the locket as they speak, her fingers trembling, and pulls the note out. Her eyes scan the old parchment. Knuckles white, she stares at the fragment. The silence drags on. Ron steals glances at her, but he remains quiet. Hermione isn't sure what to say.
"Are you alright?" she asks quietly, trying not to visibly cringe at such a ridiculous question. Narcissa clearly isn't alright.
Narcissa raises her eyes slowly, her throat bobbing as she swallows hard. Tears glisten in her eyes.
"I always blamed...well...the Dark Lord, other Death Eaters, Bellatrix...but I had never believed that Regulus had turned... How long has the Dark Lord himself been destroying my family?"
Hermione resists the urge to reach out to her. Kreacher stares at the locket longingly, worriedly. Instead of attempting to come up with what she is sure will be a wholly inadequate response, she gestures to Kreacher.
"If you're done with the locket, may Kreacher have it back?"
Narcissa looks taken aback. "Give it...?"
"Yes. It's his, after all. Harry gave it to him."
Narcissa looks like she wants to argue, but at Hermione's hardening expression, she clears her throat, carefully tucks the note back in the locket and hands it to Kreacher, who wastes no time putting it back around his thin neck.
"Thank you, Miss Cissy, you are most gracious to Kreacher, as always."
"I - yes, well, if you will excuse me, I must..." Narcissa trails off vaguely, stands from the table so quickly her chair nearly tips over, and strides from the room.
Hermione hesitates, stands, remains rooted to the spot. Ron leans back in his chair, balancing it on two legs, and lets his head tilt back to stare at the ceiling. He lets out a slow breath.
"We should give her some time," he says.
"Do you really think she should be alone right now?"
"I think this brought up some old grief. Sometimes...sometimes you just want to be alone."
His eyes are dull, and he does not look at her, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the ceiling. Hermione remembers with a painful sickening lurch in her stomach and chest that Ron did not just lose Harry: he lost Fred too. Her breath hitches and tears spring to her eyes. Often the magnitude of the losses doesn't feel real. Harry's loss she feels keenly, every moment, expecting to see him when she looks up, wondering what he would think or say or do. But it is easy, so easy and tempting sometimes to think that the others will still be waiting for them whenever they manage to return.
But they won't be.
Her future lies in ruins but so many had their futures stolen - like Fred, Tonks, Lupin, Sirius, Cedric...and even further back to Regulus.
Weakly, Hermione sits back down, struggling against the tidal wave of grief threatening to consume her, to destroy her completely.
"Hermione?" Ron asks gently.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, she pushes back against the overwhelming despair. Pushes it down. Locks it away. Concentrates on the task at hand.
We'll make him pay. For everything he took from us. From me. From them.
Something settles and hardens in her chest, numb and cold and furious. She takes a bite of her mashed potatoes.
"I'm fine, Ron. You're right, I'll give her time. This is excellent, Kreacher, thank you."