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The sun streaming through the open window woke her up. Blinking her way back into consciousness, she realized her head was lying on top of a book. Surrounded by stacks and volumes, her location was obvious.
Stretching her neck, Hermione sat up. Had she really fallen asleep? Surely she hadn't been working that late…
Yet she had. The sunrise painting the sky was evidence enough. After her interaction with Seamus the day before, she had immediately gone to the library, skipping dinner to research the mark.
After hours of nothing, she must've passed out. The book she had slept on was called Original Symbols of the Wizarding Age.
It had been a good pillow, if nothing else.
She sighed and leaned back in the chair, pushing her hair out of her face. It had to be here somewhere, she thought to herself. Something this powerful had to have been recorded once, by someone…
Her thoughts were interrupted by the door to the library swinging open. Glancing up, she saw Fred. The man looked exhausted; huge bags under his eyes complimented his disheveled hair.
She raised an eyebrow. "You alright, Fred?"
He nodded, taking a few steps into the room and sitting across from her. "Just an overnight transportation mission."
"Transportation mission?" Hermione asked, tilting her head. "I haven't heard of a transportation mission since last summer. When was the last time someone had a non-combative mission anyway?"
"I don't know," Fred sighed. "Missions have been slowing down the past few weeks. Less attacks, less disappearances. If I didn't know better, I'd say we weren't in a war at all."
"I had noticed that," Hermione replied. "Bit of a relief after the hell we were in before."
He shook his head. "This is far worse. It's a façade of peace, or break or whatever. It's not real. We are in a war."
"Then why do you think things are slowing down?" she asked, closing the book in front of her and resting her elbows on it.
Fred shrugged. "I have no idea. But I'm pretty fucking worried about it."
"I have too many things to be worried about," Hermione muttered. "I don't have space in my brain to worry about the missions slowing down."
"Too busy with your protector boyfriends," Fred piped up.
Her eyes darted up. "Who told you about that?"
"Tonks," he answered. "In a rant. She's pretty angry at them."
"It's juvenile," Hermione said. "We're all Order members. We are all trained and qualified. They're all treating me like a breakable item."
"You are breakable," Fred pointed out.
"We're all breakable," she snarled. Taking a deep breath, she continued. "We're human and mortal. That's a part of life. But we're in a war, and risks have to be taken."
"The worst thing is," Fred interrupted, leaning forward. "Talking to Draco Malfoy isn't that much of a risk."
"Thank you," she muttered, shaking her head. "I was referring more to Ron and Harry leaving without me, but the Malfoy thing is ridiculous."
"Oh yeah," Fred said, glancing at her. "Tonks said they were heading out today."
"The two best friends, saving the world all on their own," she said, shaking her head. She raised her eyes to meet Fred's. "It's not that I think leaving for the task is a bad idea. I don't. In fact, I was the one pushing for them to do something. I just think that Harry's living in fifth year. He has to do everything himself. He won't let anyone in, except of course, Ron. He's living a teenage fantasy of being able to solve everything with his best friend."
"Everyone knows you're the brain of the group," Fred said. "They won't be able to get very far without you there."
"It's always been me, you know?" she whispered. "I mean, it was always me figuring things out and letting them have the glory. I figured out what the monster was in the Chamber of Secrets. I figured out that Lupin was a werewolf. I trained Harry for the third task. I'm just so incredibly tired of doing the work and not getting any respect or credit. Not that I need them to validate my abilities, but it's frustrating to work and work and get pushed aside."
She took a deep breath. "Sorry, I know this doesn't really matter right now."
Fred shook his head. "It's probably not the most important thing in the middle of a war, but it's your emotions. Your emotions have validity. You have validity."
She offered him a small smile. "Thanks, Fred."
He stood up and walked around the table to offer her a hug. He leaned down and rested his head on her shoulder.
"Hermione Granger, these are tough times, and they are not bringing out the best in any of those boys. They care about you, but they are not acting with any form of respect."
"They have reasons," she sighed. "But their wells are running dry."
She could feel Fred's cheek. "They'll figure out how moronic they're acting when you inevitably save all of their asses."
She chuckled bleakly. "Inevitably?"
"Hermione Granger, there are only a few things that are certain. Harry's hair is going to look stupid, Ron is going to act stupid, and you are going to figure it all out with a stupid amount of time left. Those are the cornerstones of my life philosophy. Don't ruin it."
She took deep breaths as she ascended the stairs. Morgana, she didn't want to do this, but knew she would regret it fully if she didn't.
She reached the room and knocked twice.
Harry opened the door.
"Hey," she breathed, looking over his shoulder to see Ron paused half-way through packing a rucksack. She turned her eyes back to Harry. "Can I come in?"
He nodded at her. She stepped through the doorway and shut it behind her. She turned to her two best friends.
"I wish that this wasn't happening the way it is," she admitted, looking down. "I wish I was packing with you guys. I'm not here to argue about it anymore, so don't get angry."
"But, I hope you remember that we aren't at Hogwarts anymore. This isn't a fun adventure or new task to discover. This is life or death. I know you two don't want me to go because you care about my safety. Well, I care about you two just as much. Please, promise me that you'll think things through and not take any unnecessary risks."
Ron sighed. "Hermione, we're not stupid..."
"We promise," Harry interrupted, shooting the redhead a silencing look.
"Good," Hermione said. She looked up and finally met Harry's eyes. "You two are the only ones with the power to stop this war. Take care of yourselves. We're all depending on you now."
Harry strode forward without warning and wrapped his arms around her. After a moment's hesitation, she hugged him back like it was their last meeting.
For all she knew, it might've been.
"I'm sorry about how we've been acting," Harry whispered. "We just…"
"I don't want to hear it," she cut across him. "Just go do your task, and come back. That's what needs to happen now."
Harry let her go. She looked over his shoulder to meet Ron's eyes.
"I'm not going to blink first," she stated.
A smile appeared at the corner of his lips. "Alright then." He walked forward and gave her a hug.
"Take care of yourselves," she whispered into his neck and she held him close.
"Right back at you, Willow Tree," Ron said. "Figure that shit out."
She chuckled. "You know me. Figuring shit out is my specialty."
They stepped back. For a few moments, they just observed each other.
"Something of Ravenclaw's, the cup, the snake," Hermione said. "Good luck. I hope to see you on the other side of this darkness."
Harry smiled at her comment. "Oh, 'Mione, I won't be seeing you on the other side."
"Why not?"
"Because," he said, eyes looking down. "There is no light at the end of the tunnel. There is light in the tunnel, at least there is when we're together. There's light in you, and no war can destroy that."
Curled up in front of the fireplace in the kitchen, she drank her tea slowly. It was that night. Harry and Ron had left hours ago, disappearing into the world to end a war.
A war that seemed to be dying on its own.
Fred was right about the missions. They had been slowing down for weeks. The other side was stopping attacks. There were less murders, less disappearances.
Something was off. The world she had been stuck in for years had shifted, and shifted drastically. A transportation mission? A month ago, no one could be spared for something so menial with catastrophes all around.
She didn't trust it, not for a second. If they were slowing down, it just meant they were planning something, or waiting for something.
Something had changed to put them in this period of calm.
The calm before the storm.
She was brought out of her reverie by sounds of movement behind her. She turned her head around the side of the chair only to be surprised.
"Malfoy?"
Sure enough, the blonde was standing in the middle of the kitchen, dressed in a dark t-shirt and pajamas. Looking much better than the last time they had interacted, his burns were nearly all gone, and any other evidence of the fire was disappearing as well. Brushing his hair out of his face, he nodded in her direction. "Princess."
She gaped. "What are you doing down here?"
He shrugged. "Just came for a casual stroll." He walked over to where she was sitting and gestured to the empty armchair. "This seat taken?"
"I guess not," she replied, unsure of what else to say.
He smirked and slid into the seat.
"How'd you get out?" Hermione asked, sipping her tea.
"Get out?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't have to escape. Your fearless leader took off the handcuffs, deemed me healthy enough to walk around. He doesn't think I'm going to do anything after he so graciously offered me asylum."
"Are you going to do anything?"
He shot her a look. "What could I possibly do?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. Steal secrets?"
"Steal secrets for who?" he replied sharply. "In case you forgot, bookworm, I no longer have a side."
"Maybe not officially, but I'm sure you do mentally."
He tilted his head. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She stared at the flames. "They marked you up for not murdering that girl. Branded you as a deserter. But it's not like you actively left. You got kicked out. Just because you are no longer part of the organization doesn't mean you know longer agree with them, or hold the same ideology."
There was a moment of silence. "Are you asking me whether or not I'm still a death eater at heart?"
Another beat. "I suppose I am."
"Merlin, bookworm," he breathed, chuckling slightly. "You don't give a guy a break, do you? I almost died last week, can't you wait before hitting me with the questions about my beliefs and philosophies?"
She gave him a sideways glance. "That's not an answer."
He paused, mouth half open. "I don't support anyone who orders a father to torture his son."
She didn't have an answer to that.
The firelight flickered through the room, casting dancing shadows across the walls. Her eyes traced the outline of Malfoy's face, distorted against the wall.
"Heard your boys leave today," the Slytherin said, breaking the silence. "Not going to be around for a while, are they?"
"Please," she scoffed. "I doubt you care about what Harry and Ron do."
"No, I really don't," he answered bluntly. "But I am curious."
"I'm not telling you what they're doing," she muttered, clutching her cup closer to her body.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Good, because I don't give a damn."
She sat up straighter. "That's rich, Malfoy. We're in a war. Regardless of where your allegiance lies, I'm sure you care what each side is up to."
"Of course," he answered. "But, frankly, Potter and Weaselbee could explode all of London and it wouldn't interest me. They are uninteresting."
"Interest is a bit of a luxury in a war."
"Everything's a luxury in war," he answered. "Even this conversation. Human contact is growing scarce, have you noticed bookworm? Doubt you would be talking to me otherwise."
She shook off his statement, ignoring the odd sensation their talk was causing. "What do you care about then, if not what they're doing?"
Malfoy leaned towards her before answering. It was such a microscopic difference that she shouldn't have noticed, and yet, she did.
"I care, Miss Bookworm, that they didn't bring you along."
She couldn't help the short laugh that burst from her mouth. "Oh that's rich, Malfoy. Does that mean you care about me? I'm honoured."
"I would be honoured as well," he answered, the firelight dancing in his eyes. "But no. I care because it's interesting. I find it interesting that after almost a decade of friendship, Scarhead prances into the big, bad world without the only competent member of his band."
Strangely, she felt complimented by his statement. "They think it's too dangerous."
"Life is too dangerous," he responded, rolling his eyes. "That's such a classic Potter move. He has to be the knight in shining armor for the females in his life. I would be offended if it were me."
"I am offended," she responded. "But, there are more important things to care about right now. I have my own things to work on here."
"Like that mark on your arm?" he asked.
His question shifted the mood of the room. Her eyes moved to his very slowly.
"What are you talking about?" she said, forcing her voice to remain steady.
He pointed at the willow. "The tree. Besides the fact that you've been cradling it this entire conversation, the walls are really fucking thin in the goddamn building. It's all anyone's been talking about. Hermione Granger and the mysterious tattoo. Sounds like a book title."
"It is a mystery," she responded, cradling the tattoo out of his line of sight. "It showed up a few weeks ago, and has done nothing but offer me confusion and occasional blackout pain."
"And power," Malfoy said softly, his eyes turning back to the fire.
"Pardon?" she asked, her heart skipping a beat.
"Power," he said again, turning back to face her. "I had the…uh…unfortunate pleasure of overhearing an interaction between you and the Irish the other day. Thin walls, you know."
She felt her cheeks heat up. "You heard that?"
He smirked at her discomfort. "I did, indeed. And besides the interesting concept of you shagging Finnigan, I did understand that that mark was offering you energy. Energy you had to spend somehow."
"I'm sorry you overheard," she muttered, trying to keep her mind in the presence.
"You're a powerful witch, bookworm," Malfoy said. "I wonder how much more a little mark can give you."
"You'd be surprised," she answered, unsure as to why she was being so open. "I don't even know my limits anymore."
"You can't know your limits without testing them," he replied before giving her a smirk. "Finnigan not pushing you enough?"
"Don't be vulgar, Malfoy," she muttered, glancing down, ignoring the sinking reality of his statement.
"And yet," he smiled. "No answer."
She sighed. "Seamus is great, he really is. But, he's not…he's just…well…"
Malfoy eyed her with something she didn't quite recognize. "He's not what you need."
She paused. "No. He's not what I need."
Malfoy leaned back in his chair and glanced at the fire. "What do you need then, Princess?"
Hermione felt as though she had fallen down a rabbit hole. Disoriented, unsure of her surroundings, she felt dazed and confused. "I…I don't know."
"I do," he replied, his grey eyes flashing over to meet her green eyes.
"Do tell, Malfoy. I'd love to hear this."
He paused for a moment before answering. "You need more. You need something more."
"More than what?" she asked, her heart suddenly beginning to stutter irregularly.
He smirked. "More than ordinary. More than simple. More than regular, or natural. You need something difficult, something to work for, and something worth it. You need someone who's worth it."
She felt as if the world was spinning around her. Her mark was tingling slightly. "How could you possibly know what I need?"
He shrugged. "Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm full of shit. But something tells me that what I just said is resonating inside that pretty little head of yours."
She had no response.
He looked at her for a few more moments. "I've decided something, bookworm."
"And what is that?"
He turned his gaze back to the fireplace.
"I like the green eyes."
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