Hermione had been fighting for words, trying to explain why the war was so important and why Harry talking to Professor Dumbledore was important in a way that didn't use the exact same words Professor Dumbledore had said, because Harry would just reject those. He needed to hear the message, not get upset at the messenger. But she hadn't managed before he'd yelled at her, and sworn at her, and then Ron had jumped in, and then they'd fought, and now Harry didn't want to see her and they couldn't write to each other.
Hermione hated fighting with one of her best friends.
But she'd hate dying at the end of his father's wand worse.
What am I going to do?
Hermione took a deep breath and sat up, wiping away some of her tears. More fell, but she was determined now, and she turned away from watching the sky for an owl that wouldn't come.
She had to survive. She had to keep talking to Harry and not cut him off completely, because then the war might be lost.
And she had to make sure that Harry survived, too, and got the Healing he needed. It would just take more time than she'd hoped.
Dear Ron and Hermione…
Harry crumpled up the parchment and threw it into the small bin beside his desk with a sigh of disgust. At least the bin Vanished things that fell into it, or it would long since have been overflowing. Harry leaned his forehead on his hands and sighed again.
He wanted to say so many things, but he wanted to say different things to each of them.
Then Harry could feel himself blushing, and he was glad that Healer Letham wasn't there, because she might have objected to the way Harry hit himself in the forehead with one palm.
Then write a letter to each of them separately, idiot.
Harry took out another fresh sheet of parchment, dipped his quill in the ink again, and began to write. This time, the words flowed easily.
Dear Hermione,
I'm sorry for yelling at you. I'm angry that you won't stop lecturing me. I did get Healing. I didn't disappear. I just went home with my parents. Would you really have thought that Ron disappeared if he'd been kidnapped and then Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came and took him home?
I used to be the exception, I know. I still sort of am, with my scar and Voldemort being after me. But I'm not an orphan who doesn't have parents anymore. I don't have to rely on Professor Dumbledore, and I don't want to, and I don't understand why you or he can't just tell me what's so important if it really is.
Father's turned against Voldemort. He really is. He had his left arm cut off and regrown to get rid of the Dark Mark. Maybe that doesn't excuse him being a Death Eater in the first place, which I agree was really dumb. We can talk about that. But you can't just assume that Dumbledore is the one I should listen to when I have a father.
Mother helped me during a ritual we did that I can't talk about in detail. She held me, and I know she would have given everything for me not to be there, but I had to. But she's not the kind of evil woman I used to think she was. She didn't even torture Sirius Black to death when I thought she would. She used a spell that he could heal, and he ran away. And she hasn't insisted that he be put on trial for kidnapping me even though I know she'd like to. She isn't all good, but she's not terrible, either.
I just don't know why we have to agree on everything. If I admit that Dumbledore has his good points, can you admit that my parents have some, too? For me. I don't think you have to like them. You just have to accept that they didn't kidnap me and didn't forbid me to write to you. I didn't speak to anybody for three days, that's why I didn't write to you.
....
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