Many thanks to Luthien for beta (note: she's absolutely not responsible for the 3000+ words I added after she went to sleep).

Good Enough
by Beth H.
(c) September 15, 2004

Hermione sat on a tree stump just inside the perimeter of the base camp and looked over her most recent set of research notes, while Harry sat on the ground beside her, nervously tapping his wand against a stone, each tap shooting out a stream of blue and gold sparks from the tip of his wand.

She looked up from her notes and frowned. "That's very distracting, Harry. Can't you find something a little more productive to do with your time?"

He slid the wand into the pocket of his robes. "Sorry. I just wish there was something I could do. All this sitting around, waiting for somebody to make a move, is driving me mad."

Hermione rolled up the scroll and put it away, then laid her hand on his shoulder. "I know how you feel. Everyone's getting edgy, waiting for something to happen. We're all nervous, Harry."

"Dumbledore wasn't."

"No," Hermione said quietly, feeling the now-familiar prick of tears. "He wasn't. Maybe he should have been. Perhaps then he wouldn't have . . . ."

"Wouldn't have what?" Harry twisted around to face her, his own eyes suspiciously damp. "He wouldn't have gone to rescue me from Voldemort and been attacked by ten of the most powerful Dark Wizards and Witches in England? You're probably right, you know. If he'd just left me there, then . . . ."

"No!" Hermione said, appalled by his words. "That's not what I meant at all, and you know it. It's just . . . he should have brought somebody with him, Harry. At least Professor Snape . . . ."

"Snape? That git disappeared right after I did, and he still hasn't returned. He's probably hiding under a rock somewhere, waiting to see which side wins."

"Harry, that's not fair. In any case, looking for someone to blame isn't going to help Professor Dumbledore recover."

"I know," he said, slumping against the tree stump. "I just wish he was here. Hasn't Madam Pomfrey told you anything?"

She shook her head. "The last owl I received from Poppy said there'd been no change. But he's still alive, Harry."

"He hasn't woken up yet though, has he?"

"No. We were hoping he would before I left, but . . . oh, it was horrible. I sat beside him for the first two nights, and . . . all I wanted was to be able to do something - anything - but Poppy said all anyone could do was wait."

"Wait." Harry grimaced. "I'm really getting sick of that word."

"I know. So am I."

Harry got up from the ground and brushed the dirt from his robes. "I'm going to go wake up Ron and get some dueling practice in before breakfast. What about you, Hermione? Want to throw a few curses at me?" He grinned. "Really embarrassing ones?"

"That's a very tempting offer," she said, smiling a little in return, "but I think I'd better go over my notes again. There has to be something I haven't tried yet for the modification to the shielding potion."

"Wouldn't it have been easier to work on that at Hogwarts?"

"Of course it would," she said, "but there wasn't anyone here with any mediwitch training, and Poppy thought I could be useful. I couldn't stay away, you know . . . not with everyone else here."

"I know. I just wish you were somewhere a little safer."

"Harry, I don't think anywhere is safe anymore. Go on now," Hermione said, pushing Harry's arm. "Find Ron, and I'll see you both later."

She watched as Harry walked over to a small orange tent about thirty feet away and crawled inside, then she took out her notes and started to go over them yet again. Maybe if she reduced the asphodel . . .

Lost in her work, it was some time before she noticed the sound of shouting. Hermione jumped up, her wand held tightly in her hand, and ran to the center of the camp.

Lying on the ground in the middle of a group of Aurors was Professor Snape. His eyes were closed and his breath was coming in harsh, shallow gasps. In one hand, he clutched a yellow and purple sock.

Hermione slipped in between Harry and Ron.

"What happened?" she whispered.

"Don't know," said Ron. "He just appeared from nowhere. They reckon the sock must be a Portkey."

"He looks terrible."

Ron snorted, but Harry just nodded. "Kingsley Shacklebolt's been trying to get him to say what happened, but he's drifting in and out of consciousness. Remus said it looks like he's been hit by a dozen or more curses, except they don't seem to have been fully cast, so half of them are unrecognizable."

"Why is he still on the ground?" Hermione asked. "Shouldn't he be moved . . . to a cot, at least?"

"Maybe nobody wants their cot covered in grease." Ron muttered.

"Ron Weasley!"

"Oh come on, Hermione. It was just a joke."

"It was a bad joke. Can't you see he's in pain?"

She stepped forward and knelt down beside Professor Snape. Shacklebolt, who was kneeling on Snape's other side, laid his hand on the unconscious man's shoulder. Snape didn't make a sound, but he winced and bit down so hard on his tongue that blood began seeping out from his mouth.

Hermione looked up at Mad-Eye Moody. "Sir, we have to get him to the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. Madam Pomfrey might be able to . . . . "

"Not a chance," Moody snapped. "I'm not letting this death-eating bastard anywhere near the headmaster or the children."

"Well . . . St. Mungo's, then."

"And take a chance he'll disappear again before we find out where the hell he's been this past week?"

Hermione stood up. "Does he look like a flight risk, Sir?

"I wouldn't put anything past Snape," Moody said with a sneer.

Hermione knew that the old Auror had a history with her former professor, but this was ridiculous. Professor Snape was on their side - Moody knew that - and he was suffering. Hermione wanted to scream with frustration, even though she didn't think it would do any good.

"It had to be Death Eaters who did this to him," she said angrily, her new-found healer's instincts over-riding any thoughts she had about not interfering in Order business. "What do you propose we do? Leave him by the side of the road for Voldemort to trip over?"

"None of your cheek, girlie," Moody snapped. "No, we can't afford to cut him loose, not while there's a chance there are still some things he hasn't let slip to You Know Who."

Incredible. Moody had no clue about what had happened or whether Snape had said anything, yet here he was, making it sound as if it was a foregone conclusion that the professor had shared Order business with the Death Eaters.

"The headmaster would want. . . ."

"Albus Dumbledore came this close to dying, and until I get some proof to the contrary, I won't be convinced Snape isn't at least partly to blame." He glared at the supine man, not even bothering to hide the look of disgust on his face.

Hermione wanted to continue trying to argue, but really, what was the point? She saw small hints of concern and doubt on some of the surrounding faces - Remus's and Tonks's in particular - but nobody seemed willing to stand up against Moody, at least not on Snape's behalf.

When the extent of Professor Dumbledore's injuries became known, it was startling how quickly the Order had started to unravel. The headmaster wasn't able to communicate, and almost instantly, the simplest of missions began to go wrong. Then Moody, who'd come out of retirement to rejoin the Aurors earlier that year, stepped into the void and took charge, much to the relief of the other Order members.

Hermione knew that Moody's zealous dedication to the fight against the forces of the Dark was unfeigned, however so was his distrust of Snape. As long as he was in charge, there wasn't much chance of her former professor getting more than the barest of considerations.

Still . . . to leave him on the ground? Maybe Moody could be made to see reason.

"Sir, Professor Snape is . . . ."

"Listen, Granger, if you're so keen to try out your new healing abilities on him, be my guest. Just don't expect any of the rest of us to waste our time on him. He's not worth it, and we've got more important things to do. In fact . . . Remus, come here."

"What can I do for you, Alastor?"

"You stayed at that cottage of Albus's for a while, didn't you?"

"Yes. He let me stay there after I was . . . " Remus didn't move, but she could see his eyes dart to Professor Snape. ". . . after I left my position as Defense teacher."

Moody nodded. "What about Snape? Do you know if he was ever there?" Remus frowned, and Moody grunted and waved his hand. "Look, all I want to know is whether the wards will admit the bastard onto the property or not."

"To be honest," Remus said quietly, "I always got the sense that Albus meant to give the cottage to Severus some day. Yes, he's been there."

"What about the girl?"

"Hermione?" Remus looked over at her in confusion. "No, I don't think she's ever been." Hermione looked up and shook her head. "It shouldn't matter, though. Hermione, you left school, but you're still younger than eighteen, aren't you?"

"Yes, my birthday's not until next month."

Remus turned back to Moody. "The cottage has other protections surrounding it, but Albus set the wards to admit anyone under eighteen, so that students from Hogwarts would have a safe haven in case of emergencies."

Moody scratched at his arm. "All right, that's settled, then."

"What's settled, Alastor?"

"Take Snape up to the cottage, and the girl can keep an eye on him." He glanced at Hermione, then turned back to Remus. "Get rid of two problems at once."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, then clamped it shut again. Who did he think he was, talking about her like that?

No, she wasn't going to keep quiet. "I'm a problem?"

"You're a distraction. Harry needs to focus on the task ahead, and he can't do that if he's worrying about you."

Of all the archaic . . . ridiculous . . . she couldn't even put into words how idiotic that reasoning was. Even if she and Harry had been something more than friends, which they were not, he'd never expect her to hide away when there was a challenge to be faced. Ron wouldn't either. They were Gryffindors, after all - all three of them.

She turned toward the boys, certain that they'd look just as disgusted by Moody's words as she'd been, but to her surprise, the expressions on both their face suggested slightly-embarrassed agreement rather than indignation on her behalf.

"You think I'm a distraction, too?" she asked in a low voice. "Is that all I've been for the past seven years?"

"Of course not!" Harry said. "It's just . . . well, it's different now, isn't it?"

"How's it different?"

"We're older. We know how serious this fight is now . . . that it's not just a game."

Ron nodded. "I think what Harry's saying is that you could get hurt, Hermione."

She rolled her eyes. "This isn't exactly news, Ron. So could you. So could Harry."

Hermione turned towards Harry, and saw him start to blush.

"Yes, but . . . you're a girl."

And that, she realized, was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? That she was female hadn't been at all important when they were children because, honestly, it was obvious that the boys hadn't actually noticed that she was a girl, at least not for most of their school years. But now that they had, nothing apart from her sex mattered to them. Not how good she was at casting spells, not how smart she was, and not how much more experienced she was in this fight than half of the current crop of Aurors.

She glanced at Tonks walking across the camp and wondered how she managed to escape these ridiculously sexist attitudes. Then she saw Tonks trip over a fallen tree branch and heard the laughter that followed in its wake, and it all made sense. Apparently Tonks was kept around as comic relief. If you were funny enough, they'd be willing to overlook the inconvenient fact that you were female.

"Come on, Hermione." Harry said. "It's not like you won't be helping. You said somebody needed to take care of Snape, right? Who else around here could do that?"

"Who else would?" Ron muttered.

"And Moody's right, you know," Harry added. "I can't help it; I would feel better if you were somewhere safe and away from the fighting."

"Besides," Ron said, "it's like old Mad-Eye was saying: somebody has to keep an eye on Snape and make sure he doesn't slip away as soon as he's conscious again. You know, even if he hasn't betrayed the Order on purpose, he could be under Imperius or some other spell. He could be . . . dangerous, I suppose. Yeah, you could think of yourself as kind of a junior Auror or something, and . . . ."

"A junior Auror?" Hermione said in disbelief. "Now who's trying to pretend this is all a game?" She crossed her hands over her chest and narrowed her eyes. "You two better make up your minds. Either I'm being sent to Headmaster Dumbledore's cottage to keep out of the line of fire, mostly so that you won't be . . . distracted, or I'm going to be in complete danger, seeing as how you're leaving me alone with someone you apparently think is a traitor. You can't have it both ways." She shook her head in disgust. "Fine. I'll go up to the cottage to be Snape's nursemaid."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, then smiled. "Thanks, Hermione. I really appreci . . . "

"Where's Remus? I need to speak with him."

Ron squinted for a moment, then pointed off into the distance. "He's sitting next to Shacklebolt on the other side of the hosselberry bush."

Hermione nodded, and without another word to either of the boys, she set off across the camp.

She didn't know whether to feel vindicated or just more frustrated when Remus immediately tried to apologize on Moody's behalf. What did it help that he seemed to understand her anger if he wasn't willing to do anything about it? If anyone should understand what it felt like to be thought of as a second-class citizen, it should be him, but then she remembered that he hadn't actually been willing to fight for his right to stay and teach at Hogwarts when the news of his lycanthropy started spreading throughout the school.

She shook her head. Talking about this situation with him wasn't going to make her feel any better; they may as well get back to business.

"Can we Portkey to the cottage?" she asked.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "We'll have to Apparate. I don't suppose you've had time to get your license yet."

"Not yet. I've been working with Madame Pomfrey all summer, and there never seemed to be enough hours in the day. If only I still had that time-turner."

He smiled at her. "I think we could all use one of those."

"What about Professor Snape?"

Remus glanced over to look at Snape. He was still lying on the ground, but somebody had thought to put a blanket over him. That was something, at least.

"If you want to start gathering whatever you'll need, I'll Apparate with Severus and get him settled in at the cottage, then I'll come back and take you on the second trip."

"What about supplies? Food and potions ingredients and all that?"

"You'll find most of what you need in the headmaster's cupboards. There were some very powerful stasis charms operating in the kitchen when I last stayed there, so nothing should have gone off."

"And what isn't there? I've been working for the past half year on an experimental shielding potion, and some of the ingredients I'm using aren't exactly standard kitchen items."

"Just write a list of whatever you don't have here, and I'll go to Hogwarts and pick it up for you. Everything should be in the hospital wing, right?"

Hermione looked down at her feet. "Well, almost everything. There might be a few things in Professor Snape's private stores."

She looked up and saw Remus smiling at her. "I don't suppose you told him that you've been helping yourself to those ingredients."

"I . . . I didn't want to bother him. Remus, I'm a little worried."

"About Severus finding out that you've been pinching ingredients? Don't be. He probably knew the minute you set foot in there, and if he hasn't said anything yet, then . . . "

"No, not about that. How am I supposed to look after him if nobody even knows what curses were thrown at him? I'm a quick learner, but I'm still a novice when it comes to curse diagnosis."

"Ah, yes. As for that . . . did the boys tell you that Severus was able to Portkey away before the curses took full effect?"

She nodded. "They did, but I didn't think that would make any difference. I mean, if they hit him at all, he's still going to be suffering their effects, isn't he?"

"Actually, no. It's true that we don't know precisely what was cast or how many curses were sent in his direction, but it's unlikely that not a single one of the people who cursed him was powerful enough to be able to cast an Unforgivable, and yet there's no sign of Severus having been hit with the Cruciatus or . . . "

"Or the killing curse."

"Exactly. You'll have to be careful at first, since it's possible that some of the curses might react badly with magic, but I suspect that basic healing skills are all that you're going to need, and Poppy has been singing your praises in that area for months now. The more worrying thing is how you're going to hold up having Severus for a patient."

"Maybe he'll remain unconscious?" Hermione said hopefully.

"Unlikely," Remus said, smiling a little.

She smiled back, then looked up as a flock of birds flew overhead, all changing direction at the last moment to avoid encountering the protected air space above the camp.

"Owls can't find their way in here, can they? I was just wondering how I'll be able to get in touch with anyone if . . . "

"Hermione, I have ask: are you concerned about being left alone with Severus? If you are . . . if the thought of it makes you uncomfortable in any way, I'll convince Alastor that he's going to have to spare an Auror."

"I'm not afraid that Professor Snape is going to hurt me, if that's what you're asking. Besides," she said sharply, "I'm sure everybody else has more important things to do."

She saw Remus frown at the bitter note in her voice, but honestly, she didn't care. She'd do what she'd been asked to do, but she wasn't going to pretend she was happy about it.

"Well, then . . . I suppose that's all then. Do you think twenty minutes is going to be long enough for you to get everything ready?"

"That's more than enough time."

"Good. I'll take Severus now. If you have the list ready by the time I return, I'll be able to go to Hogwarts while you're getting settled in at the cottage."

Hermione nodded, then walked with Remus over to Professor Snape. She watched as he lifted the unconscious man into his arms and Disapparated, before packing up her notes and belongings.

She had almost finished writing the list of potions ingredients she thought she might need Remus to collect when she heard a quiet voice speaking her name.

There, standing behind her, was Harry.

"Do you have a minute?"

"Sure, Harry," she said with a sigh. "What do you need?"

"I just wanted to say . . . oh hell, I don't want us to fight, Hermione. I don't want you to be mad at me. I just want you to be safe - you understand that, don't you? You're one of my best friends, and things are about to get ugly very soon."

Hermione took a deep breath. It wasn't that she couldn't understand what Harry was saying. He was right, of course. Tensions were escalating, and even without any particular skill in Divination, everyone knew it wouldn't be long until Harry would have to face Voldemort for what would probably be the last time. And she understood his wish to keep her safe; if she had the power, she'd do her best to ensure that all those she loved would be safe from the malevolent power of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. What she could not understand was why Harry had suddenly decided she was incapable of protecting herself or assisting in the coming battle. Ron was his friend, too. Why wasn't he telling Ron to run away and keep himself safe?

The truth was, though, that Harry did have more pressure resting on his shoulders than anyone else, and even if his concern was misplaced - which she knew it was - she didn't want to give him more to worry about, not now at least.

When all this was over, though, she was definitely going to sit him down and give him the same lecture on equality and women's rights that her mother had given her when she was still a little girl.

"I'm not mad at you, Harry," she sighed. "Truly, I'm not. I just want to help."

He nodded. "I know you do, Hermione. It's just . . . you're special, you know?"

Special. Apparently that was a new way of saying 'needs to hide out in the cellar while the menfolk are busy.'

Harry put his arms around her and gave her a hug. "I'll miss you. And remember, Snape can't take house points anymore, so if you want to call him a git, you can."

If there was anyone Hermione wanted to call a 'git' at this precise minute, it was Harry, but she swallowed the thought and gave him a quick hug.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Remus heading her way.

"It looks like my ride's here," she said, smiling a little. "Give Ron a hug for me, and tell him I'll see him again soon."

"Will do."

"Ready?" Remus asked.

"Yes."

"All right, then. Hold on tight."

***

The cottage, Hermione discovered when she and Remus Apparated directly into the tiled entryway, was lovely. There were two front rooms, both overlooking the sea, as well a small kitchen and an annex which was the perfect place to set up a cauldron or two. No House-elves were in evidence, for which Hermione was grateful, but Remus gave her a quick demonstration of all the charmed items with which the house was supplied, and she couldn't imagine how anyone could possibly need any help to take care of everyday tasks. 'All mod cons,' as her Great-Aunt Susan would say - or at least she might have done if she could have got past the confusing little matter of there being no electricity in the cottage.

"I'll let you get settled in," Remus said. "Have you thought of any extras you might need from Hogwarts?"

"No," she said, taking one last look at her list before handing it to him. "I think this is everything."

"Right. See you shortly."

He tucked the parchment into one of the pockets of his robes, then drew out a small box of matches and handed it to her.

"Nobody can Portkey in anywhere near here, but you will be able to use this Portkey to get out, if necessary. It will take you directly to the base camp. I wish I'd been able to connect you to the floo network as well, but this is going to have to do."

Hermione had barely begun to unpack when Remus returned with two large carry-alls, filled to bursting with tools, potions ingredients, and a set of five cauldrons of various sizes, nestled one inside the other.

"Where did those cauldrons come from?" she asked delightedly. "They're ever so much better than the ones I've been using up until now."

"Ah, about that," Remus said, grinning a bit. "I took a little side trip to Severus's private lab."

"You stole his equipment?"

"I prefer to think of it as . . . 'liberating,' but if you want to get technical . . . "

She shook her head. "Do boys ever grow up? He's going to be angry, you know."

She knew she was being a little hypocritical; after all, it wasn't as if she hadn't done a little 'liberating' of her own when it came to some of the more esoteric ingredients that she thought she'd need for her work. But Professor Snape's private lab was . . . different, somehow.

"I don't know if you've noticed, Hermione, but Severus is always angry. I'll tell you what, though. If he says anything, you can lay the blame entirely on me."

"Oh, believe me, I will."

"Ta very much," Remus said. He withdrew a small container from one of the bags. "Next you'll be telling me you have objections to this, as well."

"What is it?" Hermione asked, frowning a little. "Another liberated item that actually belongs to Professor Snape?"

"No, this is from my private stores. It's a fortnight's supply of chocolate . . . and much more useful than some nasty old cauldrons, if I do say so myself." Remus placed the container of chocolate down on the counter. " So . . . am I forgiven for making you an accomplice to the latest in the long line of my criminal acts?"

"You are . . . but that's only because you brought chocolate."

Remus winked. "Works every time."

For a moment, Hermione was on the verge of asking Remus if he might be able to stay, just for a while longer, but then he smiled and patted her on the head and instantly, any desire she had to spend more time in his company evaporated.

Patting her on the head . . . did he think she was five years old? Or a puppy? She had a sudden, almost overwhelming desire to slap his offending hand, but she restrained herself since there was little to no chance that he'd understand why she was so annoyed with him.

Wizards! Condescending, sexist prats, the lot of them.

As politely as she could manage, Hermione thanked Remus for all the trouble he'd gone to, and after they said their goodbyes, he Disapparated, leaving her alone.

With Professor Snape.