[HP] Butterfly Bound -- Chapter 08
Title: Butterfly Bound
Chapter 08: Ask, Ask, Ask
Rating: M (and/or R)
Words: 4,256
Summary: 6th year AU. Theodore/Hermione. When Harry lies dying from an unbreakable curse, Hermione is desperate to find a cure. After a summer of hell, Theodore wants nothing to do with the war. A Nott family heirloom provides the answer to both their prayers, but only if they can work together to survive the heirloom's demands. And even if they succeed, there's still a war to win...
Notes: Written for the 2012 Finish-a-Thon and
edellin's fic request.
Warnings: Torture-physical/emotional, psychological mindfuckery, kidnapping, gore, disturbing imagery, cannibalism, and death.
Ron was silent as they walked down a few corridors, winding their way through the castle towards the meet-up point at the Great Hall. Then he said, "It probably isn't. Our business, I mean. He might answer a few questions about things like 'is it going to hurt the war effort?' or maybe even 'how do we know you're not going to stab us in the back?' but if he's seriously going to do this, help us help Harry, then Luna's right. He can be trusted that far. What he wants--doesn't really matter, does it? It's just peace. Who doesn't want that?"
Hermione appreciated the fact that he said 'help us help Harry' and not 'help you help Harry' even though she was increasingly uncomfortable with Ron's utter lack of response to the fact that... that she might be doing this. A love bond. Didn't he care at all?
"It could," she replied. "It just depends on what it was. If we believe Luna about him wanting peace, doesn't even that depend on what kind of peace it is that he wants?"
"If it helps Harry, isn't that the right sort of peace?" Ron argued back. "That's the important thing, isn't it? He's got literally no reason to want to help us and yet, he's made that offer." Ron ran his hands through his hair with a frustrated sigh. "I mean, alright, suppose he doesn't mean well. That he's secretly a Death Eater. It could be that it's a trick and now that Harry's out of commission they're looking for ways to take you out too."
"Me?" Hermione said, aghast. "I'm not anything worth that to them. I'm just a--"
"The embodiment of everything they want to deny?" Ron said dryly. "Hermione, you're Muggleborn and scathingly brilliant and unrepentant--and I'm not saying you should be repentant--about all of it. And you're one of Harry's best friends. No," he said, with heavy sarcasm, "I can't see any reason why they'd want to eliminate you."
"Then why should I even consider wanting to do this?" she demanded. "If it's possible that he's lying and it's a trick?"
"Because if it's not a trick, if it's not a lie, it could save Harry."
Hermione scowled at him. "So we'll make sure that Nott isn't lying," Hermione said determinedly. "If I go through with this."
Ron stopped abruptly. "If?"
"If," she repeated defiantly. "I'm not really looking for a bond like that either. I understand why Luna said no. And I...," Hermione faltered and couldn't get the rest of her sentence out and resorted to just shrugging helplessly. She'd liked Ron for ages. Now there was this and she didn't know how she felt about it at all and he was giving her very little information about how he felt and it just was so wrong.
Where was the boy that had shouted at her for dating someone who'd noticed she was a girl before he had? It was funny--she hadn't thought she'd miss him, but she did.
"Harry could--will--die if we don't do something." Ron stuffed his hands into the pockets of his robes and began walking again. Hermione followed him, still scowling. "And if Harry dies, we lose this war. This isn't about feelings, this is about strategy." He wore a peculiar half-smile. "I might be rubbish at one of those, Hermione, but I'm not at the other. I understand strategy. If I thought that Nott would be willing with a guy, I'd volunteer and I don't swing that way."
This time, it was Hermione who stopped cold. "You're saying that feelings don't matter in this case."
Ron's eyes had never seemed as brilliantly blue as they did now, when he turned to look at her with an expression of seriousness she rarely saw on his face. "I'm saying that even though our feelings are important--even Nott accepts that, which is why he's given Ginny an out and don't think I didn't notice and appreciate that--there's more important things than who we want to end up with. Saving Harry is one of those to me. Ending the war... what's one more sacrifice to do it?"
"It's a big deal to me!" Hermione objected, her voice rising. She fought to keep from getting shrill. Shouting wouldn't help. "Making that sort of decision, making those sorts of statements, it's not you who'll be stuck in a loveless love bond with a bigot! It won't be your life that's sacrificed here!"
"I would make that decision if that's what it took," Ron said heavily. "But I can't. I don't know what your answer should be, Hermione. I only know what mine would be and I know that if Nott had asked for Ginny, that Ginny would do it for Harry. Not happily, don't get me wrong, but she would. Because that's what it would come down to us and as Luna said, it would be a business transaction. There's plenty of things married people can get up to so long as all involved are willing to ignore any infidelity."
"Can't a bond be dissolved?" Hermione asked, wishing that she'd thought to ever look this sort of thing up. But, no, it hadn't been something that had occurred to her and now, now she felt like she was being pushed into a love bond and she hated the very idea of it.
"No." Ron shook his head. "That's why it's so serious. Once it's done, it's done forever. You can't get rid of it."
"I'm not yet seventeen," Hermione whispered. "I'm not even old enough for that."
Just a couple of weeks and she would be. Hermione couldn't imagine anyone feeling ready to get married so young, though she knew some people did and were happy.
"Neither is Nott," Ron pointed out. "He's got to be younger than you are, you're one of the oldest in our year. The magic won't care about age. It cares about intent. Don't get me wrong, Hermione. I...," his voice cracked. "I wish you didn't have to make this choice, but that's what this is. It's a choice. This sort of magic has to be done of your own free will. He can't force you. No one can. Even if we all agreed you should do it and then had you and Nott go through whatever ritual he needs done to access that book of his, if you didn't agree to it, the ritual would do absolutely nothing."
"Well, in that case," Hermione started sarcastically, "I suppose I should be glad about that since you're so keen about throwing me to the wolves in order to save Harry."
And, to make a bad evening even worse, Ron didn't even oblige her by rising to her bait and engaging her in an argument. He just lapsed into silence and Hermione, frustrated and upset and furious with him and with Luna and even Ginny who'd done nothing but be glad that Nott hadn't asked for her, and mostly, with Nott, did the same, though her thoughts were anything but quiet.
Why had he asked for her? She was right in that he was a bigot. He thought she was less than he was, just because of her blood and the length of her magical history. He probably thinks my parents are worth less than nothing, she thought viciously as they approached the other Prefects.
And what am I going to do if he does? If what he's got in mind can cure Harry... She had no answer to that and it left a bitter taste in her mouth to know that whatever answer she came to was going to be a difficult one to reconcile herself with. If I say yes, I will be stuck in a bond with a man who doesn't see me as his equal and who thinks my parents are worthless. But if I say no and Harry dies, I will never forgive myself.
Prefects milled around the Great Hall in disorganized groups, slowly and roughly separating off into their assigned teams. Hermione slowed, wishing she didn't have to do this now, that she could go off and have a good cry and maybe see if she could think rationally about everything.
But she couldn't and pasted a smile on her face.
"Hi Hermione," Padma said, sweeping her long, dark hair over one shoulder and smiling at her as Ron peeled away to go and slouch over to where Anthony, Parkinson, and Susan were waiting. "Can you believe this?"
"Hi Padma. I'm afraid I can," she admitted. "And I'm glad that precautions are being taken but all that time--gone! It's lucky we're in our sixth year. I wouldn't want to be taking OWLs or NEWTs with this taking up our evenings."
Padma gave a delicate sort of shrug. "I'm sure we'd have managed. You're right that I'm rather guilty of being glad for the same reason you are though. Are you all right? You look pale."
"I'm fine," Hermione said hastily, looking around the room to see if she could spot the other members of their team. Ernie and Malfoy. What a fun year this is going to be. "Where's Malfoy?" She'd spotted Ernie, talking to Jessica about something that required him to gesture with his hands.
"Maybe he's ill," Padma murmured quietly.
Hermione frowned at that, not missing the hopeful note in Padma's voice. "Are we going to be allowed out on patrol if we're missing a member? The rules didn't mention anything about that."
"I doubt they'd cancel it for one person missing. I think we're going to be allowed to go out so long as it's more than two of us show up--and with the fact that we'd lose our badges if we don't have a legit reason to not be here... if Malfoy's not here, he's probably got good reason to be."
"Or he thinks it doesn't matter," Hermione murmured, thinking about Nott's situation. Was Malfoy in a bind like that? Was that even possible? It was easier to imagine it of Nott, who was little more than a quiet presence in the very back of most of the classes she shared with him. It was far harder to believe that of Malfoy who'd spent the past five years making life difficult for Harry, Ron, and herself.
"Oh look," Padma said, gesturing with her head. "He's here. Looks like he was just running late."
Hermione's lips twitched. "He certainly looks like he was running." His usually immaculately groomed hair was windswept and his robes were askew. "Or flying," she added, then paused, hit by a revelation. "Do you think the Slytherin team has already started Quidditch practices? That would explain it. He's not Captain but as Seeker he can't exactly just skive off a practice when he wants."
"Maybe he can." Padma laughed lowly. "He's supposed to be the leader of Slytherin, isn't he?"
Maybe he was, Hermione thought as Ernie joined them and Malfoy came to stand as far enough away from the three of them as he could while still being close enough to be considered part of the group. But this year, everything seemed wrong about them. Maybe he wasn't any longer and that was preying on him. Up close, he looked more sick than hurried and she watched covertly as he muttered under his breath a series of spells that straightened the wrinkles in his robes and smoothed his hair back neatly. One spell even shined his shoes. In moments he looked like he'd just come from posing for a magazine.
But that doesn't change the fact that he's lost weight, Hermione realized. And it doesn't change the shadows under his eyes or the way that he's standing like he's wound so tight that he's about to burst.
Maybe it was possible that whatever it was that had sent Nott scrambling for a way out of the war, that had sent him to an unusual book and made him willing to bond with a Muggleborn, had sent Malfoy scrambling for his own way out.
Hermione looked at Padma and Ernie, troubled, and wondering how their summers had been.
On reflection, listening to how Ernie was detailing their path despite the fact that they all knew it from the train, and watching Padma's earrings glint in the light of the hall, Hermione decided not to ask. If something had happened, and it was dreadful, she'd just upset all of them.
I don't want to know that badly, she admitted to herself. I have enough on my plate without trying to figure out the puzzle that is everyone's personal business. I only have to deal with mine.
Which was quite enough for her to do. She tried to tell herself that thinking that was the reasonable thing to do. That she was being smart. It felt like she was running away. Would she ask, if it was another Gryffindor standing by her? Was this one of the reasons they'd been split by House and forced to deal with the others on their own terms?
If so, she commended who ever had come up with the idea. She commended them for their cruel brilliance. Not one of us is comfortable, Hermione thought, and we're all aware of that.
We're all on even ground.
She wondered how long that would last. And who would gain the advantage first.
Patrol was long, frustrating and an exercise in not hauling off and hexing both Malfoy and Padma who, it had turned out, was the most likely to rise to Malfoy's jibes. Whatever had so subdued Malfoy on the train, whatever it was that was still leaving him looking like death warmed over had, clearly, not taken away his ability to be immensely irritating.
She was honest enough with herself to know that if she hadn't been so preoccupied with her own problems that she would have been just as likely as Padma to rise to the bait whenever Malfoy said something deliberately inflammatory.
As it was, she spent most of the evening feeling a growing kinship with Ernie who she exchanged so many exasperated glances with that it was quite ridiculous by the time they made it back to the Great Hall.
By the time they reached the Great Hall, Hermione was thoroughly sick of the both Padma and Malfoy and had decided that if she agreed with Ernie Macmillan one more time that evening that she was going to be ill. He was a very nice guy, but he was dreadfully overbearing when he was trying so hard to do his job and nothing else. And I am drowning in pomposity.
It vindictively cheered her when she saw other teams straggle in, looking as dispirited and rung out as she felt. It was petty of her, perhaps, but it was comforting to know they were all precisely in the same boat and, at that moment in time, seemed to feel about the same over it.
To her surprise, though, when Ron came in he was not scowling.
He was frowning as he walked beside Parkinson, while she talked, stealing glances up at him, but as they got closer, Hermione realized that he was frowning because he was listening to Parkinson. Anthony and Susan were talking animatedly behind them, both their hands darting about as they gestured. None of them looked anything like frazzled or harassed or horrified at what their evening had turned into.
They looked like… like a team.
"Are you seriously telling me that of all the teams, it was that one that managed to get along?" Padma murmured in her ear and Hermione jumped guiltily. Padma stared beadily at the team. "Do you think they're under some sort of hex? I bet Anthony could pull that off and if it promoted harmony I don't know that Susan would go against it... you know how most Hufflepuffs are."
Hermione laughed despite herself. "We'll have to ask," she said, "but it almost makes me feel a little better to know that this wasn't entirely a fiasco. Though, naturally, I'm gnawing on my liver with envy that it wasn't our team that managed it."
"Please, we've got Malfoy. Do you think we'll ever manage it?"
Watching Ernie and Malfoy argue while both glanced furtively around for the Head Boy or Girl to dismiss them, Hermione really rather doubted it. "It could happen," she said staunchly. "And it most definitely won't happen if we never have a little bit of faith that it can."
Padma shrugged her elegant shoulders, a match for her twin's, and shook her head. "Fair enough."
Once Jeremy dismissed them, Hermione fell into step beside Ron as they headed back up to the tower, both of them stifling yawns. "You were getting along with your team," she said, and flushed when it came out accusatory.
Ron's lop-sided half-smile made her insides do a flip. "It wasn't so bad," he admitted, shoving his hands into his pockets. "We had a few spats but nothing that left us looking like the rest of you. Malfoy get on your nerves?"
"And Padma," Hermione confessed. "It was like standing between Malfoy and... and Ginny for hours on end. I wouldn't have guessed it of Padma, but she's got quite a temper when provoked. Ernie and I played peacekeeper."
"Poor thing," Ron teased. "Should we get you some hot chocolate and a scone to celebrate your freedom from them for the night?"
"You're just hungry," she accused, lips twitching as she struggled to repress a smile. He never changed.
"Always. Did you want to go and eat?"
She hesitated, just to give a token amount of resistance to the idea, and then gave in. "Oh, why not?" Hermione said. "It's been a long time since dinner and a hot drink would be nice."
It was only much later, once she'd showered and crawled into bed, that Hermione realized that Ron hadn't explained at all how he'd managed to get along with his team. And I forgot to ask him what he and Parkinson were talking about, she thought sleepily, rolling over and forgetting about it.
The next morning came too early for her liking. Hermione, while by nature was a morning person, felt that any morning that started before seven was far too early. So when she found herself wide-awake and staring at her canopy while her clock read just after six, she felt that the world was being profoundly unfair.
With a sigh she heaved herself out of bed and reached for her hairbrush. It was a good thing, she tried to convince herself. This way, she'd be able to think about her options and make notes before everyone else was awake. Hermione paused. She'd be the only one awake… unless the Gryffindor Quidditch team had started their practices already. She tried to remember if Katie was a morning person.
Katie was so surprised when she got made Captain but I think she'll be a good one. She's fair and nice without being a pushover.
Once her hair was brushed, Hermione put herself together before grabbing her things and heading downstairs to the common room with them. Secluding herself in one of the bigger chairs right by the fireplace, which still burnt merrily (or, she thought, had been re-lit by the House elves when they'd sensed someone was awake, which made her feel a pang of guilt for adding more work to their lives), she pulled out a scrap of parchment and a self-inking quill and began noting down her options and her thoughts.
It was times like this that she wished she had a diary. She'd never been the sort of girl to keep one though and so she made due with spare parchment and her own spells to keep what she wrote from being read if anyone looked over her shoulder to see what she was doing so early in the morning.
Not, she thought wryly, that anyone would be surprised to see me working.
The options, looked over in the early light of day, didn't look a whole lot better than they had the night before. I wish I could talk to someone about this, she thought pensively. Someone unbiased, who could give me advice without shoving me towards saving Harry. I want to save him, I do, but...
Could she give up that much of herself to do so? That she wasn't sure was upsetting in and of itself.
For a moment, she thought longingly of telling Professor McGonagall what had happened and the potential solution that they'd been given. Two things stopped her more than anything else. One, what Ron and Ginny had both agreed with Luna: this could not happen without her free will. And two, she was unsure, after a summer of feeling increasingly ill-used by the Professors as they were time after time denied access to the more useful books, if telling them was the wisest thing to do.
It felt almost like a blasphemous thought, to mistrust the teachers. She bit her lip hard and continued thinking it. If she told them what she might have to do in order to cure Harry, if they really had found no other cure, then what would happen?
Would they try to talk her into it?
Or would they try and talk her out of it while saying it was not a sacrifice that she was expected to make. She was young, she had time to properly fall in love, Harry wouldn't want her to do that for him.
She didn't know the answer to that either. Professor Snape, Hermione believed, would want her to do it. Of all the Professors, he had consistently seemed the most proactive about trying new treatments and spells to see what would happen. Of him, she was sure that he wanted Harry awake the sooner the better. He seemed to judge Harry's continued sleep as a grave personal insult and react accordingly.
But the rest of them... Hermione tilted her head back, recalling the events of the summer, and lost herself in memories. No, the rest of them, she reluctantly decided, couldn't be trusted with this.
Ginny would say I'm being hypocritical, she thought ruefully. Just after I was so insistent on trusting them to keep us safe I turn around and decide to keep something like this, something really dangerous, from them.
But it wasn't really just her secret to tell, now was it? Hermione pressed her quill to parchment so hard that the parchment tore at the realization. She'd been missing an entire half of the equation.
What would it do to Nott if she told the professors? The book he had--it was almost certainly very Dark magic. Further, they might even see it as him forcing her into a bond with the promise of curing Harry. How did the book work? Why was there a bond involved with it?
I don't know enough, she thought, suddenly energized. But I know what to do to get the answers I need. Hurriedly stuffing her parchment and quill away, Hermione flung her bag over her shoulder and raced up the stairs of the boys' dorm. They were still sleeping, every last one of them, when she slipped into the Sixth year boys dorm--her guess that they might be out practicing proven wrong since Ron would rather die than miss Quidditch, even if it was just to watch, since tryouts weren't due to be held until next week.
On tiptoe, acutely aware of how this would look if anyone woke up and caught her, Hermione stepped over to Ron's trunk and knelt down beside it. There were so many things wrong with going through one of her best friend's trunks that she wasn't even sure where to start. She could only imagine what his reaction would be when she told him later.
But she needed Harry's map and Ron had taken possession of it and Harry's other important possessions. "Sorry Ron," she murmured to him. "I'd wake you, but I need to do this on my own." The map was precisely where he'd told her he'd put it, for once, and she stuffed it in her sleeve and hurried from the room as Neville made a noise like he was slowly waking up.
She rushed down the stairs so fast that had anyone else been on them, she would have definitely been unable to stop in time to keep from crashing into them. Once ensconced back in her chair, she pulled her legs up under her and tapped the map with her wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Quickly she scanned it eagerly, wishing the map had a find-person function (and why hadn't Sirius and Harry's father and Professor Lupin thought of that back then?), and felt a thrill of electricity through her when she found the dot neatly labelled 'Theodore Nott' in the library. Not even I'm there at this hour! she thought, but it made her life a great deal easier that he was.
She needed answers. This saved her from having to break into the Slytherin common room.
If she wanted to ask her questions, who better was there to ask than the one who'd come up with the proposal?
Hermione left the common room with a spring to her step and a determined fire in her eyes.
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Originally posted on DW. Comment there. (Unless you want to comment here. That's fine too.)
Chapter 08: Ask, Ask, Ask
Rating: M (and/or R)
Words: 4,256
Summary: 6th year AU. Theodore/Hermione. When Harry lies dying from an unbreakable curse, Hermione is desperate to find a cure. After a summer of hell, Theodore wants nothing to do with the war. A Nott family heirloom provides the answer to both their prayers, but only if they can work together to survive the heirloom's demands. And even if they succeed, there's still a war to win...
Notes: Written for the 2012 Finish-a-Thon and
edellin's fic request.
Warnings: Torture-physical/emotional, psychological mindfuckery, kidnapping, gore, disturbing imagery, cannibalism, and death.
Ron was silent as they walked down a few corridors, winding their way through the castle towards the meet-up point at the Great Hall. Then he said, "It probably isn't. Our business, I mean. He might answer a few questions about things like 'is it going to hurt the war effort?' or maybe even 'how do we know you're not going to stab us in the back?' but if he's seriously going to do this, help us help Harry, then Luna's right. He can be trusted that far. What he wants--doesn't really matter, does it? It's just peace. Who doesn't want that?"
Hermione appreciated the fact that he said 'help us help Harry' and not 'help you help Harry' even though she was increasingly uncomfortable with Ron's utter lack of response to the fact that... that she might be doing this. A love bond. Didn't he care at all?
"It could," she replied. "It just depends on what it was. If we believe Luna about him wanting peace, doesn't even that depend on what kind of peace it is that he wants?"
"If it helps Harry, isn't that the right sort of peace?" Ron argued back. "That's the important thing, isn't it? He's got literally no reason to want to help us and yet, he's made that offer." Ron ran his hands through his hair with a frustrated sigh. "I mean, alright, suppose he doesn't mean well. That he's secretly a Death Eater. It could be that it's a trick and now that Harry's out of commission they're looking for ways to take you out too."
"Me?" Hermione said, aghast. "I'm not anything worth that to them. I'm just a--"
"The embodiment of everything they want to deny?" Ron said dryly. "Hermione, you're Muggleborn and scathingly brilliant and unrepentant--and I'm not saying you should be repentant--about all of it. And you're one of Harry's best friends. No," he said, with heavy sarcasm, "I can't see any reason why they'd want to eliminate you."
"Then why should I even consider wanting to do this?" she demanded. "If it's possible that he's lying and it's a trick?"
"Because if it's not a trick, if it's not a lie, it could save Harry."
Hermione scowled at him. "So we'll make sure that Nott isn't lying," Hermione said determinedly. "If I go through with this."
Ron stopped abruptly. "If?"
"If," she repeated defiantly. "I'm not really looking for a bond like that either. I understand why Luna said no. And I...," Hermione faltered and couldn't get the rest of her sentence out and resorted to just shrugging helplessly. She'd liked Ron for ages. Now there was this and she didn't know how she felt about it at all and he was giving her very little information about how he felt and it just was so wrong.
Where was the boy that had shouted at her for dating someone who'd noticed she was a girl before he had? It was funny--she hadn't thought she'd miss him, but she did.
"Harry could--will--die if we don't do something." Ron stuffed his hands into the pockets of his robes and began walking again. Hermione followed him, still scowling. "And if Harry dies, we lose this war. This isn't about feelings, this is about strategy." He wore a peculiar half-smile. "I might be rubbish at one of those, Hermione, but I'm not at the other. I understand strategy. If I thought that Nott would be willing with a guy, I'd volunteer and I don't swing that way."
This time, it was Hermione who stopped cold. "You're saying that feelings don't matter in this case."
Ron's eyes had never seemed as brilliantly blue as they did now, when he turned to look at her with an expression of seriousness she rarely saw on his face. "I'm saying that even though our feelings are important--even Nott accepts that, which is why he's given Ginny an out and don't think I didn't notice and appreciate that--there's more important things than who we want to end up with. Saving Harry is one of those to me. Ending the war... what's one more sacrifice to do it?"
"It's a big deal to me!" Hermione objected, her voice rising. She fought to keep from getting shrill. Shouting wouldn't help. "Making that sort of decision, making those sorts of statements, it's not you who'll be stuck in a loveless love bond with a bigot! It won't be your life that's sacrificed here!"
"I would make that decision if that's what it took," Ron said heavily. "But I can't. I don't know what your answer should be, Hermione. I only know what mine would be and I know that if Nott had asked for Ginny, that Ginny would do it for Harry. Not happily, don't get me wrong, but she would. Because that's what it would come down to us and as Luna said, it would be a business transaction. There's plenty of things married people can get up to so long as all involved are willing to ignore any infidelity."
"Can't a bond be dissolved?" Hermione asked, wishing that she'd thought to ever look this sort of thing up. But, no, it hadn't been something that had occurred to her and now, now she felt like she was being pushed into a love bond and she hated the very idea of it.
"No." Ron shook his head. "That's why it's so serious. Once it's done, it's done forever. You can't get rid of it."
"I'm not yet seventeen," Hermione whispered. "I'm not even old enough for that."
Just a couple of weeks and she would be. Hermione couldn't imagine anyone feeling ready to get married so young, though she knew some people did and were happy.
"Neither is Nott," Ron pointed out. "He's got to be younger than you are, you're one of the oldest in our year. The magic won't care about age. It cares about intent. Don't get me wrong, Hermione. I...," his voice cracked. "I wish you didn't have to make this choice, but that's what this is. It's a choice. This sort of magic has to be done of your own free will. He can't force you. No one can. Even if we all agreed you should do it and then had you and Nott go through whatever ritual he needs done to access that book of his, if you didn't agree to it, the ritual would do absolutely nothing."
"Well, in that case," Hermione started sarcastically, "I suppose I should be glad about that since you're so keen about throwing me to the wolves in order to save Harry."
And, to make a bad evening even worse, Ron didn't even oblige her by rising to her bait and engaging her in an argument. He just lapsed into silence and Hermione, frustrated and upset and furious with him and with Luna and even Ginny who'd done nothing but be glad that Nott hadn't asked for her, and mostly, with Nott, did the same, though her thoughts were anything but quiet.
Why had he asked for her? She was right in that he was a bigot. He thought she was less than he was, just because of her blood and the length of her magical history. He probably thinks my parents are worth less than nothing, she thought viciously as they approached the other Prefects.
And what am I going to do if he does? If what he's got in mind can cure Harry... She had no answer to that and it left a bitter taste in her mouth to know that whatever answer she came to was going to be a difficult one to reconcile herself with. If I say yes, I will be stuck in a bond with a man who doesn't see me as his equal and who thinks my parents are worthless. But if I say no and Harry dies, I will never forgive myself.
Prefects milled around the Great Hall in disorganized groups, slowly and roughly separating off into their assigned teams. Hermione slowed, wishing she didn't have to do this now, that she could go off and have a good cry and maybe see if she could think rationally about everything.
But she couldn't and pasted a smile on her face.
"Hi Hermione," Padma said, sweeping her long, dark hair over one shoulder and smiling at her as Ron peeled away to go and slouch over to where Anthony, Parkinson, and Susan were waiting. "Can you believe this?"
"Hi Padma. I'm afraid I can," she admitted. "And I'm glad that precautions are being taken but all that time--gone! It's lucky we're in our sixth year. I wouldn't want to be taking OWLs or NEWTs with this taking up our evenings."
Padma gave a delicate sort of shrug. "I'm sure we'd have managed. You're right that I'm rather guilty of being glad for the same reason you are though. Are you all right? You look pale."
"I'm fine," Hermione said hastily, looking around the room to see if she could spot the other members of their team. Ernie and Malfoy. What a fun year this is going to be. "Where's Malfoy?" She'd spotted Ernie, talking to Jessica about something that required him to gesture with his hands.
"Maybe he's ill," Padma murmured quietly.
Hermione frowned at that, not missing the hopeful note in Padma's voice. "Are we going to be allowed out on patrol if we're missing a member? The rules didn't mention anything about that."
"I doubt they'd cancel it for one person missing. I think we're going to be allowed to go out so long as it's more than two of us show up--and with the fact that we'd lose our badges if we don't have a legit reason to not be here... if Malfoy's not here, he's probably got good reason to be."
"Or he thinks it doesn't matter," Hermione murmured, thinking about Nott's situation. Was Malfoy in a bind like that? Was that even possible? It was easier to imagine it of Nott, who was little more than a quiet presence in the very back of most of the classes she shared with him. It was far harder to believe that of Malfoy who'd spent the past five years making life difficult for Harry, Ron, and herself.
"Oh look," Padma said, gesturing with her head. "He's here. Looks like he was just running late."
Hermione's lips twitched. "He certainly looks like he was running." His usually immaculately groomed hair was windswept and his robes were askew. "Or flying," she added, then paused, hit by a revelation. "Do you think the Slytherin team has already started Quidditch practices? That would explain it. He's not Captain but as Seeker he can't exactly just skive off a practice when he wants."
"Maybe he can." Padma laughed lowly. "He's supposed to be the leader of Slytherin, isn't he?"
Maybe he was, Hermione thought as Ernie joined them and Malfoy came to stand as far enough away from the three of them as he could while still being close enough to be considered part of the group. But this year, everything seemed wrong about them. Maybe he wasn't any longer and that was preying on him. Up close, he looked more sick than hurried and she watched covertly as he muttered under his breath a series of spells that straightened the wrinkles in his robes and smoothed his hair back neatly. One spell even shined his shoes. In moments he looked like he'd just come from posing for a magazine.
But that doesn't change the fact that he's lost weight, Hermione realized. And it doesn't change the shadows under his eyes or the way that he's standing like he's wound so tight that he's about to burst.
Maybe it was possible that whatever it was that had sent Nott scrambling for a way out of the war, that had sent him to an unusual book and made him willing to bond with a Muggleborn, had sent Malfoy scrambling for his own way out.
Hermione looked at Padma and Ernie, troubled, and wondering how their summers had been.
On reflection, listening to how Ernie was detailing their path despite the fact that they all knew it from the train, and watching Padma's earrings glint in the light of the hall, Hermione decided not to ask. If something had happened, and it was dreadful, she'd just upset all of them.
I don't want to know that badly, she admitted to herself. I have enough on my plate without trying to figure out the puzzle that is everyone's personal business. I only have to deal with mine.
Which was quite enough for her to do. She tried to tell herself that thinking that was the reasonable thing to do. That she was being smart. It felt like she was running away. Would she ask, if it was another Gryffindor standing by her? Was this one of the reasons they'd been split by House and forced to deal with the others on their own terms?
If so, she commended who ever had come up with the idea. She commended them for their cruel brilliance. Not one of us is comfortable, Hermione thought, and we're all aware of that.
We're all on even ground.
She wondered how long that would last. And who would gain the advantage first.
Patrol was long, frustrating and an exercise in not hauling off and hexing both Malfoy and Padma who, it had turned out, was the most likely to rise to Malfoy's jibes. Whatever had so subdued Malfoy on the train, whatever it was that was still leaving him looking like death warmed over had, clearly, not taken away his ability to be immensely irritating.
She was honest enough with herself to know that if she hadn't been so preoccupied with her own problems that she would have been just as likely as Padma to rise to the bait whenever Malfoy said something deliberately inflammatory.
As it was, she spent most of the evening feeling a growing kinship with Ernie who she exchanged so many exasperated glances with that it was quite ridiculous by the time they made it back to the Great Hall.
By the time they reached the Great Hall, Hermione was thoroughly sick of the both Padma and Malfoy and had decided that if she agreed with Ernie Macmillan one more time that evening that she was going to be ill. He was a very nice guy, but he was dreadfully overbearing when he was trying so hard to do his job and nothing else. And I am drowning in pomposity.
It vindictively cheered her when she saw other teams straggle in, looking as dispirited and rung out as she felt. It was petty of her, perhaps, but it was comforting to know they were all precisely in the same boat and, at that moment in time, seemed to feel about the same over it.
To her surprise, though, when Ron came in he was not scowling.
He was frowning as he walked beside Parkinson, while she talked, stealing glances up at him, but as they got closer, Hermione realized that he was frowning because he was listening to Parkinson. Anthony and Susan were talking animatedly behind them, both their hands darting about as they gestured. None of them looked anything like frazzled or harassed or horrified at what their evening had turned into.
They looked like… like a team.
"Are you seriously telling me that of all the teams, it was that one that managed to get along?" Padma murmured in her ear and Hermione jumped guiltily. Padma stared beadily at the team. "Do you think they're under some sort of hex? I bet Anthony could pull that off and if it promoted harmony I don't know that Susan would go against it... you know how most Hufflepuffs are."
Hermione laughed despite herself. "We'll have to ask," she said, "but it almost makes me feel a little better to know that this wasn't entirely a fiasco. Though, naturally, I'm gnawing on my liver with envy that it wasn't our team that managed it."
"Please, we've got Malfoy. Do you think we'll ever manage it?"
Watching Ernie and Malfoy argue while both glanced furtively around for the Head Boy or Girl to dismiss them, Hermione really rather doubted it. "It could happen," she said staunchly. "And it most definitely won't happen if we never have a little bit of faith that it can."
Padma shrugged her elegant shoulders, a match for her twin's, and shook her head. "Fair enough."
Once Jeremy dismissed them, Hermione fell into step beside Ron as they headed back up to the tower, both of them stifling yawns. "You were getting along with your team," she said, and flushed when it came out accusatory.
Ron's lop-sided half-smile made her insides do a flip. "It wasn't so bad," he admitted, shoving his hands into his pockets. "We had a few spats but nothing that left us looking like the rest of you. Malfoy get on your nerves?"
"And Padma," Hermione confessed. "It was like standing between Malfoy and... and Ginny for hours on end. I wouldn't have guessed it of Padma, but she's got quite a temper when provoked. Ernie and I played peacekeeper."
"Poor thing," Ron teased. "Should we get you some hot chocolate and a scone to celebrate your freedom from them for the night?"
"You're just hungry," she accused, lips twitching as she struggled to repress a smile. He never changed.
"Always. Did you want to go and eat?"
She hesitated, just to give a token amount of resistance to the idea, and then gave in. "Oh, why not?" Hermione said. "It's been a long time since dinner and a hot drink would be nice."
It was only much later, once she'd showered and crawled into bed, that Hermione realized that Ron hadn't explained at all how he'd managed to get along with his team. And I forgot to ask him what he and Parkinson were talking about, she thought sleepily, rolling over and forgetting about it.
The next morning came too early for her liking. Hermione, while by nature was a morning person, felt that any morning that started before seven was far too early. So when she found herself wide-awake and staring at her canopy while her clock read just after six, she felt that the world was being profoundly unfair.
With a sigh she heaved herself out of bed and reached for her hairbrush. It was a good thing, she tried to convince herself. This way, she'd be able to think about her options and make notes before everyone else was awake. Hermione paused. She'd be the only one awake… unless the Gryffindor Quidditch team had started their practices already. She tried to remember if Katie was a morning person.
Katie was so surprised when she got made Captain but I think she'll be a good one. She's fair and nice without being a pushover.
Once her hair was brushed, Hermione put herself together before grabbing her things and heading downstairs to the common room with them. Secluding herself in one of the bigger chairs right by the fireplace, which still burnt merrily (or, she thought, had been re-lit by the House elves when they'd sensed someone was awake, which made her feel a pang of guilt for adding more work to their lives), she pulled out a scrap of parchment and a self-inking quill and began noting down her options and her thoughts.
It was times like this that she wished she had a diary. She'd never been the sort of girl to keep one though and so she made due with spare parchment and her own spells to keep what she wrote from being read if anyone looked over her shoulder to see what she was doing so early in the morning.
Not, she thought wryly, that anyone would be surprised to see me working.
The options, looked over in the early light of day, didn't look a whole lot better than they had the night before. I wish I could talk to someone about this, she thought pensively. Someone unbiased, who could give me advice without shoving me towards saving Harry. I want to save him, I do, but...
Could she give up that much of herself to do so? That she wasn't sure was upsetting in and of itself.
For a moment, she thought longingly of telling Professor McGonagall what had happened and the potential solution that they'd been given. Two things stopped her more than anything else. One, what Ron and Ginny had both agreed with Luna: this could not happen without her free will. And two, she was unsure, after a summer of feeling increasingly ill-used by the Professors as they were time after time denied access to the more useful books, if telling them was the wisest thing to do.
It felt almost like a blasphemous thought, to mistrust the teachers. She bit her lip hard and continued thinking it. If she told them what she might have to do in order to cure Harry, if they really had found no other cure, then what would happen?
Would they try to talk her into it?
Or would they try and talk her out of it while saying it was not a sacrifice that she was expected to make. She was young, she had time to properly fall in love, Harry wouldn't want her to do that for him.
She didn't know the answer to that either. Professor Snape, Hermione believed, would want her to do it. Of all the Professors, he had consistently seemed the most proactive about trying new treatments and spells to see what would happen. Of him, she was sure that he wanted Harry awake the sooner the better. He seemed to judge Harry's continued sleep as a grave personal insult and react accordingly.
But the rest of them... Hermione tilted her head back, recalling the events of the summer, and lost herself in memories. No, the rest of them, she reluctantly decided, couldn't be trusted with this.
Ginny would say I'm being hypocritical, she thought ruefully. Just after I was so insistent on trusting them to keep us safe I turn around and decide to keep something like this, something really dangerous, from them.
But it wasn't really just her secret to tell, now was it? Hermione pressed her quill to parchment so hard that the parchment tore at the realization. She'd been missing an entire half of the equation.
What would it do to Nott if she told the professors? The book he had--it was almost certainly very Dark magic. Further, they might even see it as him forcing her into a bond with the promise of curing Harry. How did the book work? Why was there a bond involved with it?
I don't know enough, she thought, suddenly energized. But I know what to do to get the answers I need. Hurriedly stuffing her parchment and quill away, Hermione flung her bag over her shoulder and raced up the stairs of the boys' dorm. They were still sleeping, every last one of them, when she slipped into the Sixth year boys dorm--her guess that they might be out practicing proven wrong since Ron would rather die than miss Quidditch, even if it was just to watch, since tryouts weren't due to be held until next week.
On tiptoe, acutely aware of how this would look if anyone woke up and caught her, Hermione stepped over to Ron's trunk and knelt down beside it. There were so many things wrong with going through one of her best friend's trunks that she wasn't even sure where to start. She could only imagine what his reaction would be when she told him later.
But she needed Harry's map and Ron had taken possession of it and Harry's other important possessions. "Sorry Ron," she murmured to him. "I'd wake you, but I need to do this on my own." The map was precisely where he'd told her he'd put it, for once, and she stuffed it in her sleeve and hurried from the room as Neville made a noise like he was slowly waking up.
She rushed down the stairs so fast that had anyone else been on them, she would have definitely been unable to stop in time to keep from crashing into them. Once ensconced back in her chair, she pulled her legs up under her and tapped the map with her wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Quickly she scanned it eagerly, wishing the map had a find-person function (and why hadn't Sirius and Harry's father and Professor Lupin thought of that back then?), and felt a thrill of electricity through her when she found the dot neatly labelled 'Theodore Nott' in the library. Not even I'm there at this hour! she thought, but it made her life a great deal easier that he was.
She needed answers. This saved her from having to break into the Slytherin common room.
If she wanted to ask her questions, who better was there to ask than the one who'd come up with the proposal?
Hermione left the common room with a spring to her step and a determined fire in her eyes.
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