Chapter six: Blessings
Reluctantly she stepped out of the booth. The fabric of the white silky dress made a strange swishing sound as it dragged over the floor with every step she took. She made strange faces at Ginny, who looked a bit amused.
"Well..." Ginny said, "I never thought you were the type to go for princess-like puffed up sleeves. Or thirteen layers of chiffon."
"Nor did I," Hermione said painstakingly. "Your mother picked this one out last week when I wasn't there...She can't honestly think this is pretty, can she?"
Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "You know how many dresses I had to say no to. Each and everyone of them was picked by her. Not until I threatened to let Fleur help me pick out a dress did she allow me to choose one myself."
"You were lucky. I've never seen a prettier weddingdress than the one you wore. I can only imagine the jealousy that went through Britain the day those pictures were published in Witch Weekly."
"Without our consent," Ginny remarked angrily. "I thought Rita Skeeter had learned her lesson."
Hermione nodded vaguely as she looked at herself in one of the many mirrors. She sighed.
"I don't want to offend your mother, but I'm not wearing this."
She marched back into the dressingroom and started to unclasp the many little hooks that kept the bodice together. Ginny got to her feet and started to look through a clothesrack near the seat she had been sitting in.
"Hey...Hermione. Can I ask you something?"
A muffled 'hmm' was her answer.
"...Can you still wear white? Or should I be looking in a different corner of the boutique."
Hermione yanked the curtain of her changingbooth open and stared at Ginny incredulously. "What! Ginny...Are you seriously asking me this? Are you even sure you want to know the answer?"
Ginny chuckled and moved on to a different rack casually. "So I guess you can't. Should I tell mum or do you want to?"
Hermione paled. "I...She- she doesn't really think he and I haven't- Does she? And- and why shouldn't I be able to wear white because of that anyway. It doesn't mean purity the way it did centuries ago...Everyone can wear white nowadays, can't they?" she blabbed.
Ginny said nothing. Hermione sighed and tried to compose herself again.
"I was actually sort of looking forward to wearing white..."
"...Then you should. No one but you and Ron knows, right?"
"But that's cheating...Besides, you know."
"Like I would tell anyone!" Ginny said indignantly. "I agree with you. White doesn't mean what it used to. If you want a white dress then go for it. It's your wedding. Besides, you can't honestly think I could still wear white on my weddingday according to those standards. As long as you don't wear the dress you wore before, I'll be happy."
Hermione laughed. By now she had slipped back into her suede skirt and black sweater and reached for her shoes outside the curtain.
"I'll just have to come back another time. I've got to get back to St. Mungo's soon."
She stepped into the boutique and was surprised to find Ginny in lip-lock with Harry, who had apparentally walked into the shop within the last few seconds. Ginny released her husband and slung her bag over her shoulder.
"Well, I'll be off. You two have fun, but hands off, okay?" she added with a wink.
Harry smiled uncomfortably and Hermione shook her head. When the door had closed behind Ginny, Harry's face turned more serious.
"Sorry to bother you about this here, but I found something."
Her eyes lit up. "You found-"
"Not here," he hissed. "Come on, there's a cafe up the road."
She nodded and hung the dress back on one of the racks. They left the shop and headed out into the street, quickly making their way over the snowcovered pavement into the less chilly and more welcome environment of an empty little coffeeplace.
Harry walked straight towards one of the more hidden little booths in the back, far away from the counter.
"Well?" Hermione asked eagerly.
Harry shoved a pieve of parchment across the surface of the table. She unfolded it and gasped. It was a drawing, very similar to the design of markings Malfoy had on his chest, only this time all of it had been carved into a tabletop.
"Where did you find this?" she whispered.
"In one of the restricted books at Hogwarts. My dad's old cloak is still usefull for these kinds of things. I can't make out what it says, though. I though you might know."
She bit her lip and touched the signs beside the picture tentatively. "It's been a while since I read runes," she said quietly.
"I found more. In one of the Academy's books there's a chapter about sactrificial dark magic, old magic." He touched his scar to indicate what kind of old magic he was talking about.
"Ancient Magick?" she whispered. "But I thought no one used that anymore...And I thought-He doesn't believe in it, does he?"
"Perhaps he does now. That chapter was mostly about old crones sacrificing goats during ceremonies at full moon and things like that. But there was a single paragraph that said some old mages used to brand runes into stone or wood while sacrificing a victim in order to invoke a special force. Something like-"
"Celestial Blessings," Hermione said suddenly. "That's what these mean."
She pointed at a small group of runes in the top corner of the page. Harry frowned.
"Does't seem logical...Celestial Blessings are powers of good, intended only to do good, aren't they?"
"Yes, exactly! Someone as vile as Voldemort would never be able to invoke powers like this without harming himself. These blessings are essentially powers that feed on love...and therefore they are made of love. They are the embodiment of the feelings of love and goodness that the invoker feels at the very moment of the sacrifice. And Voldemort can't handle something this powerful and would never be able to conjure up powers made of love in the first place....we know he's not capable of that."
"So something's not right..."
"Exactly. And what about Malfoy? Wasn't he one of the most loyal...No, this can't be right."
"It's all I could find. Perhaps you should just let it rest. Messing about with Ancient Magick like this does more harm than good. Malfoy is not our problem," Harry said slowly.
Hermione sighed. "Perhaps...but just keep in mind that Voldemort does nothing without a purpose."
"Unless it's out of pleasure. This could just be a punishment for disloyalty. It might not even mean anything, Hermione."
She cast her eyes down. He still didn't believe her then.
"Fine," she said. "I understand. I won't ask more of you. Ginny wouldn't approve of you helping me anyway."
He nodded appologetically. "You know what she can be like sometimes. She doesn't want me to be in more danger than neccesarry."
"You don't need to explain, I get it. It's the same with me and Ron, really."
She tightened her hand around the paper he had passed her. Harry nodded and got to his feet.
"I've got to go. Please don't do anything stupid, Hermione. We would like to keep you in one piece."
She lowered her head just a little more so he couldn't see her eyes. Knowing he wouldn't get her to look at him, he left the cafe with a resigned expression on his face. She couldn't help hearing all the different kinds of thoughts running through her mind.
She knew she should want to have as little to do with Draco and this messed up riddle as possible, but on the other hand she wanted to find out what was going on. She obviously wasn't getting more information out of Harry and Ron. They would never approve of her digging into this more and neither of them would help her more than they already had.
And she couldn't ask Draco for information because he didn't remember anything. Suddenly the parchment in her hand started to itch. Why not show this to him? He might recognize something. She had already messed with his memories so what was stopping her from doing it again…
"Ugh, I'm going to be such a bad Healer without ethics and values..." she muttered.
She got to her feet, suddenly the image of Pansy coming back to visit Draco stung her. No way was she going to let that conniving cow convince Draco she was an innocent in all this. She had to get him to believe her so that, if he did get his memory back, he'd owe her.
Determined to leave the shop, she picked up her bag and wanted to rush out. But as she pulled her bag over her shoulder, the seem broke, spilling her wand, books and diary all over the floor. Annoyed she repaired it and stuffed everything back inside.
One of the books caught her eye. It was the one Harry had given her before. She could hit herself for forgetting about this. She remembered him telling her it was filled to the brim with dark stuff. She should have started reading this days ago.
She stuffed the pages he had given her a few minutes earlier between the pages of the book and stuffed it back in her bag. First things first. Without having done some reading, talking to Draco would be pointless.
Not the hospital, then, but the library became her destination as she set out the door of the cafe.
"Ah, darling! You're awake."
"...I am," he said slowly.
The woman beside him, Pansy, was really a pretty thing to look at. Her black hair captured her face like a frame, as if it was a painting. She looked different from that memory of her in a frilly dress, but he could understand why he had chosen her now. But he would like to remember as well.
All he could see when he looked at her were the images of a schoolgirl who never could have dreamed of attaining such beauty. She leaned forward and took his hand. She was talking, obviously because her painted lips were moving, but he found his attention wandering to her eyes more than to her voice.
There was something in those eyes, something hidden, that he just wanted to uncover. Her smile seemed to invite him to do so anyway. Yet her eyes, if anything, seemed never to unwind, never to relax. Not even when the rest of her was completely at ease. He remembered Granger telling him not to trust Pansy and at the moment he felt inclined to trust the young Healer.
"Oh Draco, darling. You have no idea how worried I've been these last few weeks!" she sighed. "You were gone all of a sudden. Your parents had no clue as to where to were, nor did your friends...You left us all behind without so much as a note. Next thing I hear you wound up in this place with amnesia...and I wasn't even allowed to visit you the moment I heard. I had to wait till you remembered, but you never did remember me..."
He smirked. "I'm trying to remember as much as I can. Trust me, I want to."
She smiled prettily. "I wish they'd just let you out of here. I don't see the point of keeping you away from us. If they'd let me take you home, to your friends and family, I'm sure you'd remember everything much sooner there..."
He nodded vaguely and allowed her to jabber on.
"Vincent and Gregory would be so pleased to see you again. And I know Blaise wouldn't know how to compose himself if he knew you were alright. After all, he was your best friend."
Draco looked up. "Pansy, darling...could you repeat that name?"
"What, Blaise? Blaise Zabini...He's been your closest friend for ages."
"Blaise, huh...So much for Ha-"
He stopped. Hermione had told him not to trust Pansy. She had also told him that some Harry Potter was his best friend. And here was this Pansy telling him about Blaise and Vincent, all names that didn't seem to be ringing any bells.
He pushed her hand away and stared at the door. At the moment, he didn't know who to believe. The choice he had was limited, he had to pick between a gorgeous woman who adored him, but who could be lying so easily, and another one who seemed to be telling the truth but apparently seemed to have hated him in the past.
Pansy had stopped talking and tried to get his attention. "Darling?"
He shook his head vaguely.
"...You seem tired. I'll go home and let you rest, then. Perhaps, next time, I'll bring along a surprise."
Again she smiled prettily as she leaned in to kiss his cheek.
"I'll be back soon, love," she whispered.
