Jack of Spades: Chapter 2, Part One
JACK OF SPADES:
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Rating: MA - just to be safe!
Setting: AU: Hogwarts fell with Dumbledore at the end of Seventh Year, Harry, Hermione, Ron and the rest of the Order went into hiding, it's war and it's been going on for three years.
Summary: AU, Harry faced Voldemort but Death Eaters rallied. Hermione, Draco, Harry, Ron, and the Order scramble to wage a war they don't know how to fight. The Wizarding world and Hermione's sanity hang by a heartstring. Draco/Hermione/Harry, Draco/Hermione
Chapter 2, Part One:Stacking the Deck
“Sorry, luv - right position, wrong House.” He blew out a breath over his teeth, but he didn’t hold her mistake against her. “Definitely wrong bloke.”
Charming did as charming does and Summerby was utterly charming. His most charming included a lop-sided grin and a cheeky wink. All of which went unnoticed as the girl had yet to come around.
He gave her another cursory once-over.
No broken bones - that he could see.
No external, profuse, bleeding - that he could see.
He grimaced. That left internal injury - injuries - and spell damage. Or both. Neither of which a spot of dittany or a dab of murlap could help, which was all he had on him.
He, along with a handful of the initial escapees, had been volunteered by Madam Pomfrey to spread out through the growing throng of arriving refugees to dole out emergency first aid and bring to her those who needed her immediate medical attentions.
Not far from where he stood, Justin Finch-Fletchley, a fellow ‘Puff, dribbled something onto the forehead of some sizable sandy-haired chap. Off to his right, Terry Boot was doing his best to hold down a hysterical girl while Lisa Turpin struggled to spread some sort of salve onto the girl’s damaged leg.
From his limited vantage point, Summerby watched similar vignettes play out around him. There was no one free to help him with the girl.
She didn’t need to know that, though.
Strength and balance he had. One didn’t earn the spot of Seeker, much less a Hufflepuff Seeker, without an abundance of those two traits. His apprehension had everything with finding the best way to shuttle her to Madam Pomfrey with the least amount of jarring, given the fact that he could only guess at injuries.
“Looks like it’s just you and me, luv.” He made himself sound as upbeat even as he steadied his nervous hands on his trousers.
Two gentle motions later, she was draped over his arms. Her head rested between the side of his chest and the ridge of his collarbone. Her right hand maintained a right grip on her wand.
“You know - once word gets out that you called me Malfoy, neither one of us is going to live it down. You know that, right?”
He gave her one of his most captivating smiles.
“Lets see about getting you to someone who can help you more than I can, shall we?”
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Her shoes clacked against the floor in cadence to her swift stride.
The sounds of curses, hexes, grunts and hollers of those sacrificing everything to ensure that as many people as possible escaped Hogwarts escalated.
With effort, she hauled open one of the over-sized doors that Arthur Weasley and his team had been fighting so desperately to defend.
“Weasley - everyone’s gone! Get your team in here!”
The middle-aged man nodded. He’d heard her but he couldn’t answer. He dodged an Incarcerous! as Longbottom covered his evasive maneuver.
“Minerva - get out of here!”
“You first!” She gripped her own wand tighter and took up a protective stance behind Susan Bones.
She wasn’t going to budge on this. They had bought her the time she needed. There was no way she was going to leave them behind. As it was, she’d delegated the safety of the Slytherins to Miss Granger.
She fired a volley of curses to help cover the precious few seconds it took for them all to palm their unlikely Portkeys.
:
:
It was all McGonagall could do to blink as her new surrounding revealed themselves.
One minute she was casting a Jinx inside a dark corridor and the next she was standing in sunlight. Grass, not flagstone, cushioned her feet. A pastoral setting surrounded her, not a spell-damaged castle.
The reality that she was standing where she stood struck her with the impact of a screaming bludger.
Hogwarts had fallen.
Hogwarts. Had. Fallen.
Founders forgive me… On her watch, under her protection, Hogwarts had fallen.
She was going to have to live with that… failure… for the rest of her life.
A pair of hands shook her shoulders.
“Minerva!”
She blinked. She hadn’t made the adjustment. She was still processing the fact that they had all escaped.
“Minerva!”
Arthur Weasley’s red-blotched face was an arms-length away.
She mentally shook herself. Now was not the time to be dwelling on things.
“Yes - you’re right.” He hadn’t asked her a question per se, but his need to know that she was in the here and now was necessary. “Let’s get on with it.”
He nodded, relieved that she hadn’t drifted too far for too long.
She scanned the group around her. Longbottom, Bones, Weasley three times, Lovegood, Hooch and Finnigan. They needed her leadership.
“Arthur - go find your family. I saw Miss Granger talking to your wife and daughter earlier so I know they’re here somewhere.”
The man agreed, but not without making it clear he felt that he owed it to her to stay by her side. With a heavy stride, he melted into the crowd.
She turned her gaze to her students. “Are any of you injured?”
A few comments confirmed that none of them needed immediate medical attention.
“Alright then. House labels don’t mean very much anymore, but for now it’s the easiest way to organize everyone. Anyone who might be missing will be noticed by those in the same House.” She pointed to the far side of the expansive lawn. “Move everyone over there. Find someone to help you if you need to. Anyone who has need of medical attention, bring to Madam Pomfrey.”
Pomfrey’s white smock stood out among all the greenery. By the looks of things, the competent nurse had secured a section of lawn up and to the right of where they stood and had commenced with picking up where she left off before the second assault on the castle forced them to flee.
Finnigan and Bones were still breathing too heavily to respond to her missive, but Longbottom answered for all of them. “You got it, Professor.”
She turned to Madam Hooch. “Go with them. Make sure that they,” they both knew she was talking about the younger students and those more emotionally-than-physically damaged, “stay as calm as possible for as long as possible.”
“What about us, Professor?” Bill Weasley squinted at her as sweat had trickled into his eye even as his hand reached out and tapped his brother Charlie’s arm. Charlie’s eyes reflexively tracked Hooch.
She gave those two men a task most urgent.
“You’re to find Miss Granger. I know she’s going to have the answers as to where, how, and why we’re here.” She expelled a breath that was equal parts mild bewilderment and guarded approval. “Where ever ‘here’ is.”
:
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“Harry! Ron!”
“Ronald! Ronald where are you?!”
Ginny’s priorities hadn’t changed.
Her mother operated under a similar, more family-centric, conviction.
Nor were they the only ones looking for those missing.
“Bill! Charlie! Arthur!” Molly called out, desperate to find her husband and children. “George!”
Ginny twisted her head to the left and right, continually scanning the growing crowd. She didn’t hesitate to physically move people out of her way.
“I don’t see them, Mum!” She could see what an effort it was for her mother not to give into her own growing panic.
“Don’t worry, Ginny - we’ll find them.”
How could her mother be so… Molly-ish! Harry was here, somewhere. He had just come back, to her, and then he was dead. But then he wasn’t. And then, Voldemort was dead. Fred was dead. Then, Hermione was there. Death Eaters were laying siege. Then, suddenly, they were here.
She peered into the crowd. There were so many! Small knots of students stood together. In other places, friends sat on the thick grass and clung to one another. Others drifted alone, much like a wayward snowflake. Order members gravitated to one another. Some, though, took the time to tend to the wounded.
A tall, dark-haired chap in a sweater-vest approached a cluster of Ravenclaws. All she could see was his back, but a sense of familiarity swept over her.
Could it be?
He tapped one of the Ravenclaws on the shoulder and pointed to a far corner of the lawn. She was too far away to hear what he told them.
Ginny pulled away from her mother, her feet aimed for the shorted path to Neville.
“Ginny - where are you going?” Her mother’s voice was behind her.
She didn’t answer. She murmured half-formed apologies to those she bumped into, some didn’t get one at all.
“-go over there, alright? Just sit tight, for now, okay?”
Neville’s back angled towards her. His directions were acknowledged by some Third year she couldn’t name. He never saw her approach.
She put a hand on his arm to get his attention.
“Ginny - you’re alright!” Neville gave her a tired, relieved, smile. His fingers moved to rest on top of hers.
She returned his smile. His hand didn’t smother hers. It was comfortable as much as it heightened her anxiety levels. She knew that he knew that Harry had come back.
“Yeah - Hermione got us out.”
“Me too.”
He didn’t shake her hand off his arm.
“Nev-“
“Ginny-“
It was awkward for several reasons, among them her mother standing not three feet away from them.
She tightened her grip on him. She needed to know about her dad and brothers. She knew that they’d stayed behind. “Have you seen-“
Neville looked behind her, made eye contact with her mother, and then looked back at her. “They made it. All of them.” He shared what the other Weasleys did while everyone else escaped. “You’d be so proud of them. Not once did they let up. Even when Bill took a Stunner to the chest and hit the wall, he didn’t miss his next shot.”
Ginny didn’t have to say that she knew he didn’t either. The changes that had come over Neville since the debacle that was their ‘adventure’ in the Department of Mysteries had initiated a complete transformation that accelerated once term started and culminated in him playing a part in that blasted prophesy. The man was a hero as much as he was still quintessentially Neville.
No, that wasn’t entirely accurate. It was more like he’d grown into the kind of man that he was supposed to be, rather than the boy he perceived himself to be.
It looked good on him.
He lifted an arm and pointed to somewhere behind them. “Madam Pomfrey set up back there. I’d bet anything that they’re there.”
Molly thanked him.
Ginny had to ask, hopefulness apparent. “Have you seen Harry?”
Neville shook his head. And pulled her fingers off his sleeve. His double-meaning plain: Harry’s back, hands’ off.
He eased out a breath, clearly not ready to have ‘that’ conversation. Instead, he gave her an answer she already figured.
“Not yet. But if Hermione-“
“Yeah - I figured as much.” She mentally rolled her eyes when he said that name.
“If you find her-“
“-then that’s where I’ll find Harry.”
Neville nodded. His conversation with her only held a portion of his attention. She could tell he had things he was supposed to do.
“Want me to stick around?”
Neville gave her a measured look that lasted a moment too long.
It was Molly who decided for them. “Ginny, dear, go help him. When I find everyone, it’ll be easier for us to find you.”
Ginny didn’t know what to make of it. She really needed to see Harry, needed to know if he was alright. But, the likelihood of being a fifth-wheel would be too much for her right now. She hadn’t seen him in nearly a year, and in the past eighteen hours all they’d exchanged was a couple of longing looks, two simple exchanges, and a brief kiss that she initiated.
“Alright, Mum. I’ll go with Neville.”
“McGonagall gave a bunch of us instructions to sort everyone out. We’ll be over there, Mrs. Weasley.” Neville indicated a spot where a cluster of Gryffindors stood and the Third year he’d been talking to when they first approached him.
“Alright then, dears. I’ll leave you to it.”
Ginny returned her mother’s hug and pulled away. She didn’t watch her walk away.
She peered up at Neville, trying to gage where he was at. “Alright?”
“For the most part.” He gave her as much assurance as he possessed at the moment. “Ask me again in five minutes and I might answer differently.”
“Fair enough.” She tucked her hands into her pockets and fell in step with him.
She didn’t trust herself to say anything more.
:
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“Professor!”
McGonagall turned from her conversation with Anthony Goldstein at the hail.
“Mister Weasley-“
“Charlie.” His good-natured smile was well-intended and welcomed. “There are too many of us Weasley men for you to call all of us that.”
She had to agree with that assessment. “Is there something you needed?”
“I’ve found them. Pomfrey’s got them. All three of them.”
:
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“Madam Pomfrey!”
The harried Mediwitch looked up at the woman calling out her name.
It was good to see Minerva. She was relying entirely on her training and experience in order to handle this phase of the current crisis. She hadn’t even started to process everything that had happened over the past eighteen hours.
“Poppy - you found them?”
Pomfrey beckoned her friend to follow her. She waited until Minerva strode along side her before she started. Not too far away, the surviving Weasley family reunited.
“Mister Weasley found me as soon as I arrived. He had Mr. Potter in-tow.” She gestured to the red-headed fellow sitting on the grass on the outside edge of her triage area. “I’ve got them separated from everyone else.”
Minerva looked surprised. She wasn’t expected to hear that.
“Mister Potter is, well…” Pomfrey struggled to find the best words to use. “Well, you’ll see.”
“Is he hurt?” Minerva was truly concerned.
“In a manner of speaking.” Poppy placed a reassuring hand on her friend’s arm. There were some wounds which potions and bandages couldn’t treat. “There’s nothing more I can do for him at the moment. Dittany took care of the external damage. As it is, there are others with more pressing injuries right now that need my attention.”
The blood and smears on her smock proved it.
“And what of-“
Poppy’s face fell. “Miss Granger is another story.”
Minerva’s breath hitched.
Pomfrey led McGonagall through those under her care. Some were lying down, others sat with their arms draped over their knees. A few didn’t hold back their tears. Yet others simply sat, emotionally disconnected from everything around them.
They stopped. Ron Weasley’s drawn face lifted at their arrival. On either side of him were Harry and Hermione.
“They won’t wake up, Professor.” Worry and a hint of accusation tinged his outburst. He waved a grimy hand at his best friend. “Harry did what he was supposed to do, and now look at him.”
His anger grew, a good portion of it directed at the prone girl.
“And Hermione… I told her not to go, to leave with us. But no. She didn’t. Said she ‘couldn’t’. She insisted that she had to get to you, to tell you. And yet, you arrived well before she did.” He all but pointed his finger at her. “What did you do to her?”
Minerva swallowed her answer. No matter what she said, Weasley was too keyed up to listen to it. Instead, she visually appraised the other two members of ‘The Trio’.
Harry sat with his arms draped over his crooked knees. The lad bordered on catatonic.
Hermione had been laid carefully on the ground, her hands resting at her side, a wand in her clenched fist, her skin deathly pale. It didn’t even look like she was breathing.
She hated the question that she had to ask.
“Poppy - can we rouse her?”
Ron looked from one woman to the other. His trust in them was frayed, but neither one of them wanted to break it. The Granger girl was the only one who had the answers they needed.
“I don’t know.” Pomfrey hawed. She confessed, “I don’t even know what’s wrong with her.” She looked to her friend and shared the two things that she did know. “The only thing I can ascertain is that it’s something Dark and it’s… debilitating.”
Minerva pursed her lips. She was foremost a teacher, administrator, and a protector. Right now the needs of everyone weighed against the need of this one girl. A girl who’d probably insist on doing what had be done because it had to be done.
Poppy made the dubious decision.
She pulled out her wand and pointed at the girl. “Rennervate.”
A burst of magic stuck Miss Granger in the chest. Her body bucked, her limbs clenched and released. But she stayed unconscious.
“What are you doing! Leave her be!”
Pomfrey ignored Mister Weasley. She pressed her lips into a thin line and channeled a bit more force into her next casting. “Rennervate!”
Low moan weakly sounded seconds after the spell struck. Her head lolled to the side and her lashes fluttered as she struggled to open her eyes.
Immediately, McGonagall crouched next to her. Mister Weasley dropped to his knees, just behind her head, and propped her against his chest. Mister Potter’s previously glassy, unseeing eyes found turned to her as he heard her begin to awaken.
Pomfrey wasn’t sure if she did more harm-than-good to the girl, but the way Potter responded to her was encouraging. She’d file that information away for later.
“Miss Granger - can you hear me?” Minerva placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder.
The girl’s nod was nearly imperceptible.
“Hermione? Thank Merlin!” Ron awkwardly stroked her hair away from her ears.
“Miss Granger, you need to tell me…”
The girl’s mouth opened, her lips moved, but it was several seconds before the air flowing over her teeth formed sound.
“… no magic. Important. No magic except in the chapel. Chapel is protected. Too hard to insulate everywhere.” She moistened her lips, her concentration evident. “Lupin… went to Lupin. My idea… Needed somewhere safe that wasn’t Grimmauld. Been here before, long time ago.” She made to wave her wand hand to emphasize the fact that she’d visited, where ever they were, sometime during her Muggle-life. “Never think to find us here.”
McGonagall clasped the girl’s free hand. She had some answers. She needed more.
“What about the Slytherins?”
Mister Weasley’s head snapped in her direction. He didn’t like her question in the slightest. “What did you make her do?!”
Minerva slid her gaze at him. “The Slytherins were locked in their dormitories. She insisted on liberating them.”
“Course she would.”
She had more urgent matters that took precedence over piecing together why Mister Weasley muttered such a response in such a resigned manner. As it was, Miss Granger was fading fast. The girl couldn’t even flex her fingers any more.
“Miss Granger - please. The Slytherins!” Minerva implored. “Where are they?”
“Malfoy Manor.” Her words were slurred but distinguishable. “Sent them to Malfoy Manor. Someone’s gonna have to go to them, see who wants to do what. Check on Theo…”
“It’ll be done.” She didn’t know which ‘Theo’ Miss Granger had referred to, but she’d make sure he was approached personally. It was the least she could do.
She looked up at Poppy.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with her. The amount of energy I put into that Rennervate should’ve had her running a marathon.”
McGonagall gave the girl’s hand a squeeze.
It was a considerable effort to hear Miss Granger’s next words.
“Inside… in the library… Memory Orbs… Explains everything.”
Every muscle in Miss Granger’s body suddenly relaxed.
Poppy was by her side in an instant, her fingers to the girl’s neck. Mister Weasley’s eyes grew round and moist as the four of them, Mister Potter included, waited for the Mediwitch’s verdict.
“She’s alive. Her pulse is weak, but it’s there.”
McGonagall released the girl’s hand and stood.
She didn’t have time to feel bad about what Poppy, by extension, herself, had done to the poor girl. What Miss Granger did do was give her a place to start. That was more than she had five minutes ago. That was more than she had a half an hour ago, when she closed her fingers around that Portkey.
She looked beyond where she stood, at the students, Order members and staff and faculty.
She spoke to them as much as she did to the four people grouped around her.
“Let’s see what Miss Granger has been up to, shall we?”
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Dune grass flattened with each gust. The wind lifted sand into the air and scraped his skin. Salt pulled moisture from his lips, cheeks, and eyes.
The sun was starting to rise. The desolate beach separated Saint-Etienne-au-Mont from the unpredictable North Sea. The sky over the choppy water was reluctant to release the night. The temperature around him dipped a few more degrees; he could feel the pinch of cold on the tips of his ears.
Five Apparitions in less than twenty-four hours. The distances and frequency drew noticeably on his magic. The first four destinations were revealed by an image forced in to his mind by his father. The fifth Apparition was made by just him and his mother. Father didn’t know, nor did he deserve to know. Lucius Malfoy was, for all intends in purposes, gone.
For now, she - his mother - was safe. The chateau would protect her from the elements. The house-elves would see to her needs and provide some measure of relief from loneliness. The galleons - francs, now - piled in the safe would re-stock her wardrobe and pay for any and all expenses she would incur. The false name on the purchase agreement guaranteed her anonymity. The location assured privacy. The goblin’s visit the night before would see to it that the Malfoy vaults and holdings reflected Draco’s name as the Head of House.
He burrowed his chin deeper into the upturned collar of his Muggle coat. Twenty-four hours was hardly enough time to say goodbye to an old life.
He just wasn’t ready to leave. Not just yet.
The sun had yet to crack the horizon.
“This is all my fault.”
He didn’t turn to face her. He’d been aware of her approach but had chosen to keep his eyes on where the ocean met the sky.
“No. Not entirely. Father’s choices and your,” he sought a suitable, neutral, word, “acquiescence to his… lifestyle… choices certainly influenced… me.”
“Your having to leave is my fault.”
He couldn’t argue with that. He could, though, remind her that hope wasn’t entirely lost - to either of them.
“Your Vow with Severus, to make him promise to protect me by every means possible…”
Narcissa’s self-professed act of desperation carried a lot of ramifications. Several of which she never realized. There were some he’d never tell her. This one, though, was one she had to know.
“He knew that I’d need protection from my past.”
She loved him. He knew it as well as he knew his own name. She felt like she’d failed him, as a mother, as a guardian.
He couldn’t dwell on the fact that he did blame her, in part, for how and what he’d been raised to believe, say, do, and fulfill.
“They won’t believe you.”
He couldn’t feed that hint of hope in her voice that she’d be able to talk him out of leaving.
“Yes they will.”
The vials of memories in his breast pocket will convince them to accept him.
“They won’t trust you.”
“Not at first, and never entirely, Mother.”
“You won’t trust them.”
He snorted, rather indelicately. He shuffled his feet against the sand and shot her a wry grin. “No, I won’t.”
“They’ll betray you.”
There was truth in that.
“Probably.”
“Someone will try to kill you.”
He should’ve fought the impulse to snicker, but he didn’t.
“Many people, Mother, are going to try to do that,” he drawled.
“How will you find them?”
He tilted his face out of the wind. “Fate has already seen that, Mother.”
The reality of what his life was going to now be like settled between them.
The sky lightened. Pink tones gave way to pale blue. An hour later, cloud cover blocked the sun. An hour after that, a light mist started to fall.
“When it’s over, I’ll send for you.”
“I know you will, Draco.”
Her inhale was his signal to leave. He’d already waited longer than he though he should.
Her hand on his arm detained him for another moment.
“I love you, Mother.”
With that, he reached into the pocket of his trousers and palmed Granger’s Portkey.
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