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The Winter Witch by Kneazle
 Harry Potter & Game of Thrones Xover Rated: T, English, Adventure & Fantasy, [Hermione G., Robb S.] Roose B., Words: 281k+, Favs: 3k+, Follows: 4k+, Published: Oct 16, 2017 Updated: Mar 20 2,575Chapter 4: I:IV
The Winter Witch IV
Notes: there are lines from the show forthcoming; 1x10, "Fire and Blood," and 2x01, "the North Remembers." I've also completely altered the timeline - all you need to know is that Catelyn has already brokered the deal with the Freys to be married to Robb, Arya, and Bran, and that Robb has already sent Theon to his father, all before they crossed the Twins and entered into the Riverlands. All military victories Robb has had since are on "the Young Wolf."
It took Harry three days to realize Hermione was missing.
The first day - when McGonagall owled him saying that she sent Hermione to the Forbidden Forest to find the Centaur clan and treat with them and that she never came back in time for dinner - didn't worry Harry too much. Hermione probably met up with the Centaurs, and, like always, asked them some question and they went on and on and on about the stars and she couldn't politely get away.
(He ignored that she always hated Divination.)
On the second day, just after dinner, McGonagall owled again, saying Hermione still wasn't back. Harry felt a trickle of alarm, but nothing so dire; sometimes she disappeared for moments to herself - as she often had when they were students and ended up in the library for hours upon hours, or later in the library at Grimmauld Place - so that's where Harry was sure she was.
(McGonagall had the castle searched and even the House Elves, who didn't like Hermione much, couldn't find her. Anywhere. Even in the famous Chamber of Secrets.)
So, on the third day, just after dinner at eight o'clock in the evening, McGonagall Floo'ed Harry at the Weasley's, and said, in a very crisp voice, "Miss Granger has not been in the castle, Mr. Potter, nor can anyone find her. We will be conducting a search for her immediately."
Then, the panic set in.
The entire Weasley family roused from their lounging after Molly's delicious meal, and Harry and Ron, frantic, Apparated to the Hogwarts gates with embarrassingly loud cracks. Harry, barely able to hold onto his DA coin with numb fingers, had to hand it over to Ginny, who spelled it with the simple message: SOS HOGWARTS. HG MISSING. COME NOW.
Neville and Luna appeared almost immediately, Hannah Abbott on Neville's arm, matching blushes on their faces and their robe buttons just as unevenly paired up. Within the hour, George had managed to contact Lee and Angelina and Alicia; somehow, in that conversation, Seamus had been notified, as well as the Patil twins, and from there the rest of Dumbledore's Army began popping in and walking towards the gate from the public Floo at the Three Broomstick's.
Then, with their wands held high and aloft and lit with a lumos, they began searching the castle grounds while Harry went straight to the Forbidden Forest, Ron on his heels. Harry knew where he was going.
Ron looked around nervously and fingered his wand into a tighter grip, his knuckles turning white. He didn't have fond memories: between the flying Ford Anglia, the acronomantula, werewolves, and the final battle, he had enough of forests. However, he didn't know why they were in the forest and asked, "Is there a reason why we're going into the forest first, instead of searching the grounds with the others?"
Harry nodded, eyes firmly ahead. "I'm going to get the Resurrection Stone."
Ron halted immediately. "What?"
Harry glanced at him over his shoulder. "The Stone. I'm going to use it."
"T-to-" Ron gulped. "To see if Hermione answers?"
"No," denied Harry immediately. But then his shoulders slumped. "I dunno - maybe. Or at least ask for help from the dead."
"Hermione said that the Stone isn't a connection to the dead," said Ron quietly, walking again. "That it's like the Mirror of Erised."
Harry shrugged. "Could be. But I don't care."
"Should you be using a Hallow?" Ron asked again, after some moments of silence.
Harry shook his head. "No. But - but if it helps Hermione, then I'd happily become the Master of Death."
The two fell into companionable silence, their feet shuffling over fallen leaves and cracking on twigs until Harry felt they had reached where he prepared to meet Voldemort. Harry dropped into a low crouch, sweeping his holly wand back and forth across the dewy grass, and then - there was a glint of light further ahead, just to the right, and carefully, Harry picked up the stone.
Ron's intake of breath was the only sign he saw Harry had found the Hallow, and was staring at it in the flat palm of his hand. "Will it still work?" he finally asked.
Harry slowly nodded, and turned the stone three times, thinking, Hermione Granger.
No spectre appeared, and after a few tense seconds, both men exhaled loudly.
"Not dead then," said Ron with a shaky laugh, running a hand through his red hair, making it stick up. "Who will you call now?"
Harry's face twisted. "Dumbledore, I guess."
So he turned the stone again, and almost immediately, a ghostly, pale shadow appeared before Harry, taking in his surroundings.
"Harry," greeted Dumbledore, a genial smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eyes still present. "I am surprised - yet happy - to be called to you."
"It's good to see you, sir," replied Harry, and Ron, at his side but unable to see the ghostly form of the late Headmaster, glanced this way and that. "I need your help."
Dumbledore folded his hands in front of him and nodded. "What can I help you with, my boy?"
"Hermione's missing, sir," said Harry, "And she's not dead; I already tried with the stone. But no elves can find her, and she hasn't returned from the Forbidden Forest since three days ago when she entered. No spells can find her either. It's like she's not on the planet!"
"Then there's your answer, Harry," replied Dumbledore calmly.
"What?" he replied, his jaw clenching shut. Of course Dumbledore had to speak in riddles!
"Miss Granger cannot be found because she is not on this planet," the late Headmaster explained again.
Harry's sigh was just a shade beyond frustrated. "With all due respect, sir - while muggles have gone to the moon, none have gone further and however ambitious Hermione can be, I don't think visiting Mars was in her daily planner."
At his tone, Ron turned wide blue eyes on him and stared. "Another planet?"
"My boy," said Dumbledore, a tiny frown and furrow between his brows. "Has this world taught you nothing? With magic, anything is possible."
Biting back an angry retort as his stomach clenched, Harry let the magic of the Resurrection Stone go, and pocketed it into his front jean pocket, while Ron crossed his arms at his side.
Harry caught his eyes and shook his head. "He thinks she's not on Earth."
"He's bonkers."
"Absolutely," agreed Harry, and they turned, facing Hogwarts and ready to rejoin the rest of the search party. "But when is he not? And - well, he does have a point."
"A point?" echoed Ron incredulously.
"Well, if she's not dead; and not anywhere here-" Harry trailed off. "Then where is she?"
Ron stared at him a bit longer before aborting a snort of laughter. "Probably terrorizing someone into using the library."
A grin twisted on Harry's face. "Yeah."
"'Sides," continued Ron, significantly more cheerful, "This is Hermione, we're talking about! She's brilliant, but scary. And if she accidentally found herself on another planet, she'd find a way back."
They stopped at the edge of the forest, looking out at the twinkling lights of the castle they both grew up in, the distant shouts of people calling for their friend, and the bobbing lights of their wands.
"Another adventure?" asked Ron, mentally cataloguing who they could speak to and for what. "We could ask Luna for some help. Make things easier for Hermione on our end of things."
Harry nodded, a hum of agreement slipping past his lips. "It was getting a bit dull…"
Hidden in the shadow of the forest, they took a moment to grin at each other.
Ron's grin then stretched into a smile. "I guess it was her turn to end up in a weird situation. And it's not even Halloween, yet!"
Harry groaned, and they moved forward towards the Greenhouses, with Ron continuing their conversation, trailing off pensively, "To be fair though, I reckon we can wait on the death-defying adventures after this for a few years until it's my turn… or, at least until after Yule, don't you reckon? Mum always makes the best mince pies…"
The war room that Robb and his men used was a typical room from any castle; it reminded Hermione of a smaller version of the Great Hall from Hogwarts, long and rectangular but compact that it only held enough room for the main generals in his army and advisors. Torches flickered on the walls, and the dim room remained dim as the evening progressed. Some of the men had brought their goblets of mead and wine, and the smell of the alcohol as well as the heat from the roaring fire behind her, and the head of the table, nearly lulled Hermione into complacency.
As such, she missed quite a lot of the conversation around her.
From what been about the latest battle, going over mistakes made or maneuvers she had no interest in, Hermione was beginning to think that Karstark and Bolton hated her guts and this was a punishment. This was strategy; and while that was nothing bothersome in any regard, it was as interesting as listening to Ron talk Quidditch.
Then, Vyman brought in information about a Renly and Stannis Baratheon - Hermione perked up at the word, "stag," and fondly thought of Harry's patronus - and their idiotic claims for the same throne, despite one being the eldest surviving brother of the recently deceased King Robert.
Honestly, it's not difficult, just give the next brother the throne, she thought sourly. Especially if Robb had a point about the Queen's children - hell, even that blond Malfoy man - erm, the Kingslayer? - didn't deny the fact that he had children with his sister. It seems pretty straight-forward to me.
Eventually, Jon Umber - the one who met Hermione in the clearing and brought her to Riverrun, and whom she later had come to realize was the Greatjon as he idiotically named his son the same name as his and Junior wasn't a term anyone used - slammed his hand down on the table, rattling the goblets on it and silencing everyone.
"My lords. MY LORDS!" he shouted, catching their attention, Hermione included. "Here's what I say to these two kings!"
He hocked a large ball of spit in his mouth and then spat it to the ground at his side, making the men around him laugh and cheer. Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust and glanced at her side, where Robb sat impassively, watching the men around him with an intelligent gleam.
"Renly Baratheon is nothing to me, nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery seat in the south? What do they know of the Wall or the Wolfswood? Even their gods are wrong. Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again?" each question the Greatjon bit out was met with nods or resounding agreement. The mood of the room had shifted. "It was the dragons we bowed to and now the dragons are dead."
He deliberately drew his sword from his scabbard and pointed it at Robb, at the head of the table. Hermione fingered her wand, carefully eyeing the large man. He's like, nearly Hagrid's size. Would a stunner even take him down if he decides to make a move?
But she glanced at Robb again and saw that he was sitting passively. Beside him, in between her and his master, his wolf, Grey Wind, was watching the Greatjon but made no move to intercept. The wolf did not think him a threat, and Hermione let her grip on her wand loosen.
"There sits the only King I mean to bend my knee to: the King in the North!"
Robb inhaled quietly, and his eyes flickered over at Hermione, who met them. She wasn't sure what she saw in those wide, blue eyes, and before she could read into them further, he quickly turned back to what was happening in front of him.
Karstark was nodding, stroking a part of his beard thoughtfully. His eyes moved from Robb, at the head of the table, to Hermione. She nearly shivered under the gaze, wondering if he was still thinking of betrothing her to one of his sons. There was something in his gaze, though, and when his eyes met hers, they crinkled up at the corner in friendliness.
Hermione was not put at ease.
"I'll have peace on those terms," he said loudly. "They can keep their red castle, and their iron chair too. We have something better: the Young Wolf." He then turned his eyes back at her. "And a Winter Witch."
Hermione blanched as Karstark drew his sword, and stepping back from the table and his seat, knelt, the sword in front of him with his hands on the hilt. Nearby, his sons fell to their knees, too. "The King in the North."
Oh, no, thought Hermione, eyes wide. I didn't sign up for this.
The Greatjon roared, "The King in the North!"
And then everyone else joined in, even his mother's Tully men, marginally connected to him by his mother's marriage into the North. They were all shouting, and drawing their swords. "The King in the North! The King in the North! THE KING IN THE NORTH!"
Eventually the shouting and cheer of declaring themselves independent wore down. Hermione, absolutely stunned, did herself to make herself as small as possible as her thoughts raced. Was there paperwork involved or could anyone just annex themselves without prejudice? Her eyes shrewdly took in the flushed faces and wondered if this were going to bite the Northern army in the arse later.
Beside her, Robb slowly stood, presenting a very different image to what she had normally seen him as: he stood tall and solemn, his blue eyes lingering on each of the men in the room to give them equal measure.
"My Lords," he said quietly, but his voice carried in the suddenly deathly silent room. "I thank you for the honour - and I thank you for the trust and belief you place in me as your leader and fellow Northman." He took a quick, deep breath, and said, in a clear and loud voice, "I accept; I will take on the responsibility as the King in the North."
And yet a wild, bitter part of Hermione's mind spoke up just then, casting a sour tinge on the rest of the evening: You're not in the North anymore, Your Highness. Here be monsters.
Immediately following his very quick coronation, plans were made to prepare to move to southwest, pushing the Lannister forces that were beginning to group under Tywin Lannister's orders back to their land.
Robb winced as a twinge of pain shot through his head at the multiple plans that were occurring at once; being in charge meant numerous engagements were happening amongst his men sworn to him, and as a King, now, he had to consider the most advantageous routes that would demonstrate success and that the Greatjon's belief in him was warranted.
Currently, Theon was north, at the Iron Islands of his home, hopefully convincing his father to join the Northern army. With Renly Baratheon backed entirely by Highgarden and the Tyrells, Robb had the thought of sending his mother south to ask Renly for an alliance; the youngest Baratheon son would occupy King's Landing and split the Lannister forces between defending their land and home, and protecting Tywin's grandchildren as well as daughter in the castle.
He then had the opportunity to push onward towards Casterly Rock and Lannisport, taking the Lannister seat from under their very noses - a feat that would rub salt in the wound of Tywin losing access to his abundant gold mines and source of income. It wouldn't replace the loss of his murdered father, but it was a start of taking everything from the Lannisters as they took everything from him.
But first - he had a prisoner to interrogate. And like his father always said: he who passes the sentence, swings the sword. He wasn't about to have someone else deal with Jaime Lannister when it was his duty.
Being dragged from the Whispering Woods, to Riverrun, and then left outside in a cage meant for Grey Wolf, surrounded by hostile enemies in the middle of their camp, had striped the proud Kingslayer to some degree. He was dirty, covered in muck and dried sweat, sitting on the muddy ground, all of which had caked onto his once resplendent golden armour. His blonde hair was mussed and grimy, almost greasy, from sweat and a lack of care.
However, his eyes remained defiant, and there was an obnoxious sneer on his face as Robb strode up to the cage, Grey Wind at his side.
"The King in the North," called out the Kingslayer, his voice barely holding back a tone of contempt. "I keep expecting you to leave me in one castle or another for safekeeping, but you drag me along from camp to camp. Have you grown fond of me, Stark? Is that it? Where's that strange witch? I want to thank her for her role in all this."
Robb clenched his hands into fists at his side, creaking the leather of his gloves as he did so. The words were direct and meant to infuriate him into making a mistake - and there was no way he'd want Hermione near the man. There was noise behind him, throughout the camp, but he put it to the back of his mind; there was always something going on in a war camp.
"If I left you with one of my bannermen, your father would know within a fortnight," said Robb evenly, bracing his legs and standing in the familiar pose he took when he met Hermione at Riverrun. "And my bannermen would receive a raven with a message: 'Release my son and you'll be rich beyond your dreams. Refuse, and your house'll be destroyed, root and stem.'"
There was a knowing look in Jaime's eyes. "You don't trust the loyalty of the men following you into battle?"
Robb bristled that the man thought he knew him. "Oh, I trust them with my life, just not with yours."
The gleam in the Kingslayer's eyes altered just slightly - Robb shivered as he realized it was increased wariness, or even respect, as the blond said, "Smart, boy."
Robb winced, and the other man saw it.
"What's wrong?" he jeered, "Don't like being called boy? Insulted?"
Annoyance flashed through Robb, roiling in his stomach and Grey Wolf began to pull back his lips, revealing pink gums and long, sharp white teeth. From there, the wolf edged around the cage, sniffing and huffing. The commotion became louder, but Robb was entirely focused on the man in front of him.
The Kingslayer's eyes widened, minutely, but enough that Robb could tell he was wary and frightened. It gave Robb courage, and an idea, so he stepped forward to the door of the cage and released the latch, swinging the door wide open.
He narrowed his eyes on his captive. "You insult yourself, Kingslayer. You've been defeated by a boy. You're held captive by a boy. Perhaps you'll be killed by a boy."
Grey Wind, having completed his circuit around the large cage, slipped silently through the open door and inched forward, spit and drool foaming his mouth and dripping. Robb knew the size of the direwolf - that of a small warhorse - was intimidating to anyone who had never seen such a creature before; but having a direwolf in front of you, growling, with its hot breath wafting across yours? It was psychological torture.
The commotion grew louder, until the one voice Robb didn't want to hear at this particular time spoke loudly.
"What in Merlin's name is this?"
His head swung around, but not quick enough to not see the satisfaction and malice that sparkled in the blue eyes of the Kingslayer.
Lady Hermione stood before him, with Dacey on one side and Torrhen on the other; both looked uncomfortable, their eyes darting between the witch and their newly-named King. She wore her usual clothes - some strange trouser and shirt combination and nothing anyone suggested otherwise would have her change - and looked utterly out of place, beyond that of a woman in the camp. She looked otherworldly.
"Ah - Lady Hermione," began Robb, glancing at Torrhen and Dacey, before turning his eyes back to her. "Um - would you care to maybe-?"
"Why's he in a cage?" she continued speaking, aghast. "And dirty?"
"Because he's a prisoner," said Dacey coolly, drawing the group's attention.
"And?" the witch asked, crossing her arms and tilting her chin up in a clear challenging move. "What? You don't have something similar to the Geneva Convention here? No rules of POWs is it? Fine - I get it. Different world, different rules."
Different world? thought Robb, blinking as the words sunk into his mind - but Hermione kept speaking and his attention was on her and her words left for later thought.
"But is it that hard to show some compassion to a prisoner?" she eyed the Lannister beadily. "And I'm guessing he's of some value, right? So by showing you're the better person and treating him well would only reflect better on you as people, and your army and cause, too."
The Kingslayer chuckled. "You heard the witch, boy. Send me to a castle and a nice featherbed. I'll take a cup of wine and wench, too."
Robb whirled around with a snarl. "Stannis Baratheon sent ravens to all the High Lords of Westeros. The King Joffrey Baratheon is neither a true King, nor a true Baratheon. He's your bastard son! You deserve nothing! You will receive nothing from me!"
"Well, if that's true, Stannis is the rightful King," the blond man said, curling his own lips in a parody of Grey Wolf's barred teeth. "How convenient for him."
Undaunted, Robb thrust his arm out in front of him, a finger pointing and shaking in rage at the Kingslayer. "My father learned the truth. That's why you had him executed!"
"I did not kill Eddard Stark," said Jaime Lannister lowly, his voice dark at his impugned honour.
But Robb was not listening - he continued shouting, wanting his thoughts off his chest; wanting Hermione to hear the ugly truth and not defend the man. "Your son killed him so the world wouldn't learn who fathered him and you... you pushed my brother from a window because he saw you with the Queen!"
He blond tilted his head back, leaning it against the spike wedged into the ground behind him that he was cuffed to. His eyebrows rose in challenge. "You have proof? Or, do you want to trade gossip like a couple of fishwives?"
A wordless cry burst from Robb's mouth and he turned his back on the man, his eyes meeting Hermione's. His anger was still high and he found himself shouting at her, his right arm outstretched and gesturing with sharp slashes and punctured with jabs as he spoke.
"This?! This is the man you defend? A man who tried to kill you - who does not deny what he did with his own sister! What he did to my father! What he took-!"
Hermione was watching him, her amber eyes bright but steady. She walked forward and gently, carefully, put her hand on his outstretched arm.
He stilled.
She looked up, met his eyes, and pressed very gently down on his arm.
"By his own admission, he's guilty of incest," said Hermione quietly, her voice carrying only far enough for him to hear. "And he's guilty of assault on your father, of some degree; and on your brother, if what you're saying is true. He's guilty of a lot of things, Robb."
He exhaled shakily, bringing his arm down and to his side.
"But you're not," she finished, her lips quirking into a tiny little smile. "Don't be guilty - of doing the wrong thing for the right reason. Clean him up; put him in a room with guards. I'll add to it, drawing an age line and some containment fields so no one who isn't supposed go in, does; and so that he can't get out. But do better than him. Be better than him."
Robb took a deep breath, in and then exhaled, and then repeated it. Hermione kept her brightly lit amber eyes on his, and then slowly, he felt the rolling anger in his stomach settle and retreat, turning more into a calming balm. He nodded, acknowledging her help, and stepped back.
He turned to face the Kingslayer, who was watching him and Lady Hermione peculiarly. "I'm sending one of your cousins down to King's Landing with my peace terms."
"You think my father is going to negotiate with you?" he asked incredulously. He shook his head. "You don't know him very well."
"No, but he's starting to know me," said Robb quietly.
The Kingslayer frowned at him. "Three victories don't make you a conqueror."
The grin Robb sent him was decidedly wolf-like. "It's better than three defeats, don't you think?"
She took a gamble in challenging him, especially in front of two of his men - well, so to speak, Dacey wasn't a man - and in front of his enemy. That could've backfired spectacularly, and Hermione wasn't too keen on being intimately acquainted with a dungeon. But sometimes - sometimes - when she felt strongly about something, her mouth just ran ahead of her brain, which was going miles per second, and seeing the Kingslayer (honestly, what's his name?) on the dirty ground and being toyed with by Grey Wolf made her shudder.
It wasn't like S.P.E.W. again, no; it was about dignity, and being better that their enemies. The Order never tortured anyone, and she knew what it was like to be looked down as lesser. She didn't want Robb and his men to be thought of the same way, even if it was a different world with different rules.
So, there she was: silently trailing behind Robb with a frowning Torrhen and Dacey at either elbow, while a collection of guards were around the Kingslayer, eyes firmly fixed on the man as they led him through the corridors of Riverrun.
Hermione lingered outside of the room while Robb and Grey Wind stood in the doorway when the blond enemy was eventually thrown into a guest room, one with a bed that was stripped of its sheets. The guards around him began to declutter the room of anything that could be used as a weapon: vases, tapestries, rugs, statues. By the time they were done, it was barren: a bed frame with feather mattress and little else.
A huge tub was then brought and the man was given no dignity or privacy as women filled it with bucket after bucket of boiling water. When the guards all stepped forward to strip the man of his armour and clothes, into the eager hands of maids nearby to wash them, Hermione turned her back, although both Dacey and Torrhen faced forward to watch her and watch their King and his enemy.
Eventually, the blond hair gleamed again, and the dirt (and smell) dissipated from the Kingslayer and he was shoved back into the now clean shirt and trousers he had on under his armour. Manacles fastened around his wrists and a chain connected them to the ones around his ankles. The man would not be going anywhere.
At one point, Hermione watched as Robb opened his mouth, wanting to say something as he surveyed the man in front of him; but he stopped himself, shook his head and left the room. As he stepped through the door, he motioned for Hermione to follow, and she did, albeit, nervously.
Is this it? Will he tell me off for what I did and 'off with her head' me? she wondered, wringing her hands in front of her.
They entered a room she hadn't been in before (not like she knew every room at Riverrun, the place was huge and she spent the majority of her time in her assigned bedroom or the library; earlier today had been an attempt to tour the holdfast) while Dacey and Torrhen stood outside.
The room was small, but had three large windows with thick glass overlooking the moat and split point of the river that flowed around Riverrun. There was a large desk and several chairs and even a smaller table for meals near a fireplace. Maps hung from the walls, and there were scrolls and books and loose parchment in neat piles on the desk. It was missing a computer, and a potted plant, but Hermione recognized an office when she saw it.
Grey Wind circled around a few times in front of the fire, on the plush rug, and then promptly curled up.
Robb went to stand behind the desk, looking out the window and presented his back to Hermione.
They fell into silence.
Hermione fidgeted where she stood, tension tightening her frame. Her stomach quivered and she felt nauseous. The longer Robb was quiet, the worse her anxiety became.
I have lived and fought through battles, faced Death Eaters, and was tortured near to insanity but prevailed, she thought mulishly as the silence also began to increase her ire. I won't break with psychological mind games.
"You spoke of doing the wrong thing for the right reason," the new King said, not turning to face her, but his voice suddenly breaking the silence made her jump. "It sounded as though you had experience in this…?"
Hermione scowled. Now he wanted answers? She moved to one of the chairs in front of the desk and sat in it, bringing a hand up to chew at the corner of a nail. "My Headmaster, although I've changed some of what said. In my fourth year, there was a tournament and a boy died. He was murdered. And at one point, Professor Dumbledore said to a politician, 'we must all do what is right, instead of what is easy.' Because the politician was going to do what was easy - by ignoring that the boy was murdered."
Hermione sighed and Robb turned his body slightly to look at her, but kept his feet in front of the window. So, she continued, quietly, "It led to war. And Professor Dumbledore kept things - kept terrible things from us all that could've maybe helped us win the war earlier. Or not - I'm not sure. But what he did was the wrong thing, as it made my best friend walk to his death, willingly, knowingly. Harry had to do it, so it was the right thing to do because the situation helped us win the way, but it was for the wrong reasons."
"You think my treatment of the Kingslayer was wrong?" he asked, quietly.
Hermione shrugged, taking her hand away from her mouth. "Wasn't it?"
Their eyes met; Robb was looking at her strangely, and in a way, Hermione found she missed the bumbling teenager who wasn't quite sure what to say to her in that moment; this was a King.
"We're going to be moving out soon," said Robb instead, turning around to face her, gesturing to a nearby map as he spoke. "We're going to push for Lannisport and Casterly Rock. Jaime Lannister will remain here, under guard. Anything you can add to the room to keep him imprisoned, with your magic, would be appreciated."
Hermione bobbed a nod. He was letting her use the library, so… a few non-invasive spells was a fair trade.
Robb turned back to the map, and sighed. "I'll probably have to split my forces, leave some behind. There is talk of Tywin Lannister pulling his army out from King's Landing to come north, to aid his son. I'll need someone to remain to engage him in battle - but... I feel uncomfortable without managing the campaign myself."
Hermione grinned, standing and looking at the taller man, who flushed lightly under her eyes. "Like being in control, do you?"
His returning grin was sheepish. "Yes."
He turned back to the map and pointed at several trails and roads that led south and west. "I'm thinking of leaving my Uncle Edmure behind - he's capable, but this is his home. He'll be more likely to be fierce to defend it."
Hermione snorted, and a plan began to form.
What about -? Could I do that? Help them like that? she thought, frowning. In one sense, she had thrown her lot in with the Northern army and Robb Stark, when Jaime Lannister had tried to cut her down when she left their fight in the clearing of the Whispering Wood; and there she was now, in Robb's study, listening to him make plans to fight another.
"You know," she began conversationally, drawing the taller King's attention, "In our fifth year, we had this terrible Defense professor. Harry ended up creating this secret club that taught practical defense, but since we couldn't speak about it, we needed a way to convey our meeting times and locations."
"A necessary precaution," agreed Robb, confused, but listening.
Hermione nodded. "Yes, exactly. So I took a gold coin, charmed to look like real money, and spelled it so that anything that happened to the master coin reflected on all the other coins."
Robb blinked, understanding spreading across his face. His eyes darted quickly to hers, an urgent but hopeful look building as he reached forward and grasped her upper arms.
"You could do this…? For us? For me?" he asked breathlessly. "I could communicate with my Lords?"
"Instantaneously," replied Hermione, looking up to the young man who was taller than her by a few inches. "Across any distance." She frowned, her eyes turning inward as she began to mutter plans. "I don't think I'd use coins again, though, you could barely fit anything on them. Maybe parchment? I wonder if I could also manage to spell a quill so that it's self inking…?"
Robb then laughed, loudly, jarring her. There was something in his eyes when he looked at her. "You, Lady Hermione - are truly something else. Thank you."
She was missing something, here - he was speaking one thing but his body was saying something different and she wasn't sure what it was, or even if she wanted to know.
But one thing was for sure: she was committed to another war if she wanted to continue using the library to get home. And until she exhausted all options at Riverrun, she would remain, and in response, honour her host by helping him where she could.
Gryffindor my arse, she thought as Robb began to speak happily about how the parchment she could spell would help them perfect their battle plans. The longer I'm here, the more I turn into a Hufflepuff. Still…
She looked at the young man, all auburn hair and bright blue eyes, gesturing animatedly with flushed cheeks and an easy smile, even if she didn't take in his words.
There are worse places I could be.
AN: I banged this one out quickly because I have scenes I want to write and I totally finished all my marking (go me!). But, in the effort of all honesty I have no idea where this story is going so to that lovely reviewer who was all like "ugh girl falls into westeros and robb/jon falls in love with her and everyone lives yayyyy" I might do that now just to spite you. Hermione wants to go home. That is her plan. Or is it?
Also - to the review all concerned about Dacey and her conversation being forced with Hermione: 1) Dacey is half in love with Robb and sees Hermione as a threat and 2) Hermione is a threat; she's got magic. I'd be worried about my liege too if that were the case, who knows what Hermione is capable of! Anyway, I'm writing their relationship like Eretria and Amberle from Shannara Chronicles (TV show anyway - I haven't read the book even though I feel super bad about it because Terry Brooks was wonderful and super nice and he told me to do a comparison between the show and the book two years ago and I still haven't so now I feel bad).
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