A/N: Question for my readers and fellow writers: If you have the same erotic dream two nights in a row, are you obligated to turn it into a story?
Well, too late. I posted a new AU. Tom is a quasi-priest in black leather and Draco is a tortured soul with a chip on his shoulder. Because I love you guys.
Into the hole again
We hurried along our way,
Into a once-glorious garden
Now steeped in dark decay.
. . .
When Hermione and Doctor Riddle returned to the Home it was well past curfew, yet the front doors gave way effortlessly beneath his touch.
He guided her inside with one hand on her lower back, a gentle pressure urging her forward in place of her mind. She was too overcome to focus on anything as mundane as walking. She had no concept of direction. As she gazed around the dark gothic architecture she felt as though she were seeing it for the first time.
And for just a moment she lingered in the fantasy. This was her first day at the Home. She had just come from the solicitor's office, had just signed her life away in exchange for those she cared for most. She was about to be given the tour and shown her dorm. She'd meet her roommates. All the horrors of the last few hours were a dream.
And then she heard the sound of a throat being cleared. High pitched and grating to her ears.
And the fantasy shattered. Reality hit her full force in the chest, knocking the air from her lungs.
"Welcome back, Doctor." Umbridge stepped forth from the shadows, a vengeful demon materializing from the black pits of hell. "Ms. Granger."
Hermione swallowed as she was pinned beneath that malevolent stare and tried to take an instinctive step back, but his hand flattened along her spine, keeping her in place.
"Good evening, Madam. I do hope you didn't stay up simply to await our return."
The Matron's eyes flashed as she directed her focus upward, gazing up at the Doctor with a mixture of awe and hatred. It was a fascinating thing to behold if it wasn't so terrifying.
"When a member of staff takes a resident off grounds for several hours without notifying me of their intent I have little choice but to await their return, Doctor." Her eyes narrowed. "This was highly inappropriate, I can't begin to-"
"Perhaps this is a conversation best had in private, Madam?"
Umbridge bristled, lips pressing into a thin line as she released a forceful breath through her nose.
"Fine." She returned her gaze to Hermione, and if looks could kill, Hermione would be eviscerated on the spot. "Go to you dorm, Ms. Granger. You will do well to stay put. I have had enough of your rebellious antics. If I catch you out one more-"
"I believe Ms. Granger understands your instructions."
Hermione released a slow breath of shock and dismay as Umbridge turned such a deep shade of red she appeared almost purple, a life-sized eggplant set to burst.
"I am the head of this institution!" she shrieked, voice sharp and lashing. "You both will do well to remember that!"
Hermione blinked, glancing up at the Doctor. His pupils were blown so wide they swallowed the grey completely, two fathomless voids that froze the blood in her veins.
"I assure you, Madam, that is a fact I won't soon be forgetting."
Umbridge seemed to come to her senses beneath his piercing stare, shifting anxiously on her feet. She glanced away quickly, expression pinched and flush.
"You are dismissed, Ms. Granger. Get out of my sight."
Hermione didn't mean to do what she did next, she made no conscious decision to turn her head, had no control over her eyes as they looked to the Doctor for confirmation, for permission.
This night had left her in tatters, shredded her outer layers until only the bare bones of instinct remained. And her basic most instinct knew quite clearly who was in charge.
The Doctor met her gaze. The air swelled. He nodded once.
She released the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and quickly spun on her heel, walking quickly through the entrance hall until she emerged into the main corridor.
And sprinted for her room.
Harry drummed his fingers along the tabletop, eyes averted to the rim of his glass as his mind replayed the events of the night again and again beyond his control.
Hermione was so damnably stubborn. If only she had listened to him. The look on her face as she gazed upon the body of her friend would haunt him for the rest of his life.
It was almost enough to override his memory of the stranger holding her in his arms.
Almost.
The entire night was unnerving to the extreme. He hardly trusted his instincts. He needed time to process everything before making any rash decisions.
Unfortunately, he knew he didn't have that time as Hermione would be eager for answers. And if he didn't provide them for her, she'd hunt after them herself.
Which is why he was here, waiting to meet with one of the few people he knew would go to any length to help protect her. Even if that meant protecting her from herself.
The door to the pub opened and a familiar form slipped inside, pausing just past the threshold and flashing a look of disdain across the room. Their eyes settled upon Harry, scowl intensifying.
Harry took another long pull of ale, readying himself for the conversation to follow.
"This had better be good, Potter," Draco said as he arrived at the table in the far corner. "If I'm seen in here my reputation will be in tatters."
Harry rolled his eyes. "You've been spotted in every major gambling hall north of the Thames. I hardly think the Hog's Head will do you any more damage."
"Such statements make it startling clear you have no place in the aristocracy. Gambling halls are acceptable refuges for members of reputable families to dally. Filthy pubs in the back alleys of the East side are decidedly not."
"The patrons here keep their mouths shut. That's why I chose this place."
Draco sighed, taking a seat across the table, crossing his arms and leaning back.
"I'm only here because your note said you have news about Granger."
Harry took a deep breath, resting his forearms on the table.
"Her friend was found dead last night. Hermione identified her body at the morgue this evening."
Draco surged forward. "What? How the bloody hell did that happen?" His eyes narrowed to slits. "Don't tell me you were daft enough to let her go?"
Harry's jaw ticked. "I hardly control her actions, Malfoy. If I did she wouldn't still be living in that place to begin with."
"How did she even find out about the body?"
Harry glanced away. Draco scoffed.
"You told her. Fucking idiot."
Harry glared. "For your information, I tried to keep the fact hidden, but that went over like a dead weight. I did everything in my power to prevent her from going but she insisted, I'd like to have seen you stop her."
"I would have stopped her because I wouldn't have told her about the body in the first place. If our roles were switched and I was given free leave to do as I like I would have dragged her out of that den of wayward orphans the moment she stepped foot inside!"
Harry's fists clenched. Draco was prodding him on the sorest of subjects, his inability to protect her.
"Then you really are an idiot, Malfoy. Forcing her hand is the surest way to lose her trust. Maybe that's why she turned down your proposal."
Draco blinked, face paling. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, shoulders tense.
"She told you about that?"
"No. Of course not. She'd never risk embarrassing you. But it doesn't take a genius to figure out why the two of you stopped talking for three months."
Draco inhaled deeply through his nose, spine straightening. "Our relationship has nothing to do with you-"
"Trust me," Harry cut in, picking up his glass. "The less I know the better. I have absolutely no desire to hear about anything that happens between you. I just care if you hurt her. In which case-"
"You'll cut me open from neck to groin and slowly pull out my entrails, yes, I'm well aware."
Harry took another drink, brow raising. "I was going to say I'll kick your arse. But I like your idea much better."
Draco glared, then his expression sobered.
"How is she?"
Harry sighed. "She's out for blood. She wants to find the person responsible and I-"
"Wait, what do you mean the person responsible?"
Harry blinked. "Oh. I forgot to mention, the girl was murdered."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, such a minor detail, of course you overlooked it."
"I didn't overlook it! Christ, I've been dealing with a lot today, I'll have you know."
"You aren't the only one."
"If you're too busy to give a shite then just leave-"
"Did you hear me say that, Potter? You don't own the majority share in concern for her."
Harry leaned back, face tense. "I know that. That's why I called you here. I'm afraid she's keeping things from me and I can't protect her when I don't know what to protect her from."
Draco's jaw ticked. "You said she's out for blood?"
"She wants to find the killer. She's convinced the police won't do anything. You know how she feels about the Scotland Yard."
"As she well should. A bunch of bumbling idiots sitting on their arses."
Harry gazed into his drink. "There's a new commissioner. Maybe he'll be different, help reform the lot of them with the investigational unit."
Draco didn't spare the comment a moment's thought. "I doubt it. Granger is right. They won't waste time and resources on an orphan's murder. The girl was obviously already forgotten about, otherwise, she wouldn't have been living in that place to begin with."
Harry's gaze snapped up. "Mione isn't forgotten about."
"No, she isn't." A beat of silence. "But maybe that's what she wants."
Harry drew back. "What?"
"She's distanced herself from everyone quite purposefully, Potter."
"I'm not going to lose her."
Draco's gaze hardened. "Nor am I."
Harry nodded, relieved to hear the conviction in the other man's voice.
"So you'll help me then?"
"Help you what exactly?"
Harry's fists tightened anew, emerald eyes flashing. "Find the killer, of course."
Hermione hesitated in the hallway outside of her room, lingering behind the door as she tried to get her thoughts and emotions in order.
It was no use. Sorting it meant facing it, and she was already walking precariously along a narrow tightrope suspended over a pit of hysteria. She couldn't afford to tip her precious balance now.
Before she could formulate a plan the door swung open.
Parvati stood before her, hands on either side of the door frame, fire in her eyes.
"How could you?"
Hermione blinked, taking a step back.
"Oh no, you don't!" She lunged forward, catching Hermione by the wrist and pulling her inside, slamming the door behind them.
"How could you take off to the morgue without me? I thought we were in this together! I can't believe you told Hannah and Luna but went behind my back and-" she stopped short, eyes finally taking in Hermione's somber expression and red-rimmed eyes.
Parvati blinked, deflating before her eyes.
"No…"
Hermione swallowed, taking a step forward. Parvati held her hands up, halting her movements.
"No. I need to hear you say it."
Hermione blinked, tears welling anew.
"I'm so sorry, Parvati." Her voice broke on the final syllable. She covered her mouth, trapping in the sob.
Parvati stared at her blankly, shoulders dropped, arms limp at her sides.
"No. I don't… It wasn't her, it couldn't have been-"
"It was her." It took every ounce of strength to keep her voice steady. "I saw her with my own eyes." She swallowed again, holding her friend's gaze. "It was her."
Parvati started to quake. Her body shook at a steady vibration while her eyes sharpened to lethal points.
And then she exploded.
Hermione blinked in shock as the girl stormed to the dresser and swept her arm across the top with a blood-curdling scream, sending everything crashing to the floor. Next, she attacked the side table, snatching up the lantern and throwing it full force at the wall. The glass shattered and flew in every direction, oil running down the wallpaper and pooling along the hardwood.
"Parvati!" Hermione ran forward as she started to tear her bed covering off in violent tugs, screaming like a banshee all the while.
Hermione grabbed her arm but was shrugged off, she tried again but her hands met open air as Parvati leaped over the bare mattress and launched a book at the window, sending it clear through the broken glass.
"Parvati! Please!" Hermione screamed, tears streaming down her face.
Parvati let out a howl like a wounded animal and crumpled to the floor in a heap. Hermione landed hard on her knees at her side, wrapping her arms around her quaking form.
"No! Get off me!" Parvati struggled weakly in her hold but Hermione held tight, sobbing openly, pulling her closer. "Stop! Get off me!" But as she repeated the broken command she turned her face into Hermione's neck and collapsed into her body.
Hermione pressed her cheek into the top of her head and she gently rocked her back and forth, unable to hold back the force of her own grief in the startling wake of Parvati's breakdown.
Then the door crashed open.
"What the bloody ell is goin on in ere?" Filch bellowed from the doorway, a gathering of girls behind him, perched on tiptoes to peer over his shoulder at the chaos inside. "What did ya little vandals do?"
"Get. Out." Hermione seethed, her voice so fueled by hate and anger it dripped like acid from her lips, scorching holes into the floor.
Filch blinked, hesitating. He glanced rapidly between the two huddled figures on the ground, then to the broken glass and debris all over the room, then back to them.
"This better be cleaned up by mornin…" he set his jaw, grabbing the handle and slamming the door shut, leaving them alone with their misery and heartache.
Hermione took a deep breath, face hot and swollen, and smoothed a hand over the top of Parvati's head. The girl seemed hardly aware of Filch's entrance and abrupt departure, eyes fixed to a blank spot on the wall as she shook uncontrollably.
"Parvati…" her voice was strained, cracked and distorted. "There's more."
She felt the girl stiffen in her hold. She didn't respond, but Hermione knew she was listening.
She wet her lips, closing her eyes.
"Lavender was murdered."
The silence that followed was oppressive, surreal in the wake of the explosive chaos of moments ago. And then Parvati slowly drew back, face hovering so close to Hermione's their noses nearly touched.
"How."
It was more demand than question. Hermione swallowed past the constriction in her throat.
"Her throat was cut."
Parvati blinked, eyes gleaming in the low light.
"Just like your dream."
Hermione jolted, rearing back. She opened her mouth to dissent but fell silent as the haunting images of her nightmare superimposed the very real memories of Lavender's body.
"What are we going to do, Mione?"
Her voice was just as ragged, but it held an edge of hardness that was unmistakably Parvati.
Hermione inhaled through her nose, holding the air in her lungs until they burned, metal encasing her spine.
"We're going to take time to mourn her properly."
She held Parvati's gaze but saw a very distinctive set of storm grey eyes in her mind, illuminated by moonlight, coaxing her into shadow.
"And then we're going to get justice."
Umbridge drew her shoulders back, stretching to her full height.
She still had to crane her neck to look him in the eyes.
Tom could see how much their gaping height differential annoyed her. It brought him immense satisfaction.
"Take a seat, Doctor."
He fought back a smirk as he casually strode across the room and did as bade. Her jaw ticked with his slow pace, his utter lack of concern for her raging temper. If only she knew the storm that brewed within his heart and mind.
She would soon enough.
Tonight he would only give her a small taste of the venom lacing his fangs. He wouldn't kill her.
No. Not tonight.
He still needed her, unfortunately. Her disappearance would raise too many flags and only derail all the progress he'd made.
But that didn't mean he couldn't flex his jaws just a touch. Just enough to validate the instinctual fear that lay just beneath the surface. He'd fill her with just enough toxin to paralyze her limbs and make her pliable to his will.
His eyes gleamed with anticipation, tracking her movements as she rounded the desk and sat across, posture stiff and gaze narrowed. He held himself with an eerie stillness he was hardly aware of, the natural repose of a predator lying in silent wait.
"Well, Doctor," she placed her palms flat on the desk. "I do believe you owe me an explanation for your callous disregard of the rules I very clearly set forth."
He wet his lips, tasting the sweet promise of dinner in the air.
"I escorted Ms. Granger to the morgue this evening. She positively identified the slain corpse of her roommate, Lavender Brown. The girl you insisted had run away. The same one you refused to search for."
Umbridge blinked, leaning back in her chair with wide eyes.
"I… that's unfortunate to hear." She swallowed, blinking again. "But not surprising. Runaways are often targeted by malicious offenders on the streets."
He tipped his head. "So it's still your belief she left this place of her own free will?"
"Certainly. While the events that befell Ms. Brown are most tragic they are merely a reflection of her reckless behavior. She always sought trouble while living as a resident. It was only a matter of time until she found it."
His gaze remained unwavering. She squirmed in her chair.
"I suppose given the circumstances I can overlook this infraction," she continued tentatively. "But as an employee of this institution, you should have sought my permission first."
"Of course." He smiled, teeth gleaming. "I do hope the fallout from this tragedy does not impact you too harshly, Madam."
She blinked, face paling. "Why would it? I played no role in anything that transpired."
Interesting turn of phrase.
"Precisely. When word spreads of the girl's fate it may encourage someone to look into the conditions that encouraged her to run away in the first place."
Umbridge glared. "I told you, she was a reckless tart that-"
"I'm not the one you need to convince."
She leaned back. "What are you implying?"
"You rely on funds from the Crown as well as the estates of certain residents with the means to provide for their charge's welfare. If this transgression comes to light on the next inspection things could get very-" he wet his lips, "messy."
Her hands clenched atop the desk. "We've never had a problem passing inspection before. The Crown representative knows the type of residents we house, their exuberant dispositions-"
"And what about Ms. Granger's solicitor?"
Umbridge fell silent.
"He was just here the other day, yes? Do you think his opinion of this institution would be altered if he knew a former resident was found murdered not a week after her departure?"
His eyes narrowed just thinking about the man, but he kept his voice level, coaxing. "And not just any girl. His client's roommate. If he saw the distress this caused Hermione what do you think he'd do?"
Umbridge's face pinched. "He could decide to have her transferred."
The mere mention of Hermione seemed to disgust her.
His claws curled over the armrests, eager to tear grooves along the polished wood.
"Imagine all the money you would lose if others followed suit. You have a few other girls you receive monthly cheques for. Ms. Abbott included. Another friend of Ms. Brown, if I'm not mistaken."
She inhaled slowly through her nose, nostrils flaring. "I see your point, Doctor. But hindsight is 20/20. What am I to do about it now?"
He slowly leaned forward, eyes flashing. "I suggest doing everything in your power to make the girls feel safe and cared for, discouraging future runaways or transfer requests."
She scowled. "I already see to their safety and care."
"Then you must be even more accommodating. At least until the storm passes."
Her lips pursed, disdain clear on her face.
How he relished it.
"And to start, I think you should ensure those closest to Ms. Brown are given the resources they need during their mourning period." He drew in a slow breath before striking for her throat. "This may also discourage them from seeking relief from the authorities."
Her eyes widened as his fangs sank into her flesh. "The authorities?"
"Of course." He savored the taste of blood on his tongue. "Ms. Brown was murdered after all."
She swallowed, eyes flickering across the desk, as though searching for a solution hidden among the ghastly figurines. "Such an investigation would be nothing but a waste of valuable resources."
He smirked. "I doubt Ms. Granger would agree."
Contempt dripped from her lips even as his venom rushed through her veins, making her more pliable to his will with each successive heartbeat.
"That girl-"
"Is less likely to raise an army if she's properly distracted."
Her eyes snapped to his. "I already gave her leave to work at the Shoppe."
"Yes. But the rest of the time she's under house arrest."
Fire burned within her beady eyes. "I won't lift it! She broke the rules and she must be punished!"
"I wasn't suggesting otherwise, Madam." His voice was soft, placating, a silk cord around her neck. "There are other means in which to keep her busy while keeping her within these walls."
Her expression softened. "More chores?"
"She'll only view such tasks as punishment, becoming more rebellious."
Umbridge sighed her agreement, shoulders dropping.
He held her gaze, circling her slowly. "Allow her to assist in the clinic. She will view it as a reward and be less likely to act against you and the institution."
"I- I don't... " she swallowed convulsively. "I don't think that's a good idea."
The urge to leap across the desk and end this dance once and for all was strong. But he clenched the armrests and reminded himself of all the reasons it was too soon.
"I merely state a suggestion, Madam." He could smell the jealousy coming off her in waves, more putrid than the odor of the morgue. He tread carefully, leading her along the garden path to the cage awaiting her on the other side. "I am only looking out for your well being. If we distract the girl, we ensure her silence."
He knew he'd baited her sufficiently when her eyes softened at his choice of pronoun. She leaned forward.
"We… yes… yes of course." She wet her lips. "I see that now. It's not a bad idea, I suppose…"
He drew in a slow breath, holding it.
"Perhaps allowing her to assist in the clinic temporarily is fine… just until this blows over."
His lips formed a slow smile, eyes heavy with satisfaction. She flushed and drew back nervously, unsure how to interpret the predatory look but hopeful all the same.
But his mind had already discarded the prey seated before him, having sufficiently drained her of her usefulness for this evening.
No, his look of supreme pleasure was derived from his budding sense of anticipation… knowing that soon, soon she would come to him.
And his board would be complete.
He licked his lips, the air thick with victory. A honeyed wine to clear his pallet. The Matron gulped, eyes transfixed.
"I think that is a very wise decision, Madam." Shadows danced across his face. "Absolutely brilliant."
Hermione spent the remainder of her morning in a fog, her surroundings obscured by a transparent darkness that enveloped everything and everyone, herself included.
She'd lingered for several minutes on the floor with Parvati. Or perhaps it had been several hours. By the time she managed to convince the girl to retire to Hermione's bed, Parvati's remaining in tatters, the sun was just breaking the horizon.
Hermione left her friend staring blankly at the ceiling while she began to slowly clean the mess all over the floor, picking up items tentatively, using the chaos of the room to distract from the chaos of her mind.
After remaking the mattress and restocking the top of the dresser she was left with mounds of broken glass and an oil spill to contend with. She bit her lip, hesitant to leave Parvati alone for even a moment, but when she informed the girl she'd be right back she received not even a blink of reaction.
Halfway to the supply closet Hermione paused and started to shake anew.
She quickly suppressed the dwelling of emotion and spun on her heal, taking off for the stairs, keeping an ear out for Filch. After their brief encounter earlier she doubted he would actively seek her out, but she wanted to avoid him all the same.
She emerged into the hall of the lower dorms and quietly slipped inside Luna and Hannah's room, shoulders tense with resignation.
After Parvati's charged reaction she thought nothing else could impact her so. But seeing Hannah burst into tears had been a second lance through the heart.
Luna remained the most composed of them all, not bursting into hysterics but calmly crossing the room and wrapping her arms around Hermione.
"I'm so sorry you had to be the one to see her. I know how difficult it is." She had whispered into her hair while Hannah curled up on the bed and buried her face in the pillow, muffling her sobs.
Hermione swallowed heavily, recalling that Luna had been the one to discover her father's slain corpse. She returned the girl's embrace.
"Thank you, Luna." She inhaled shakily, Hannah's broken sounds affecting her deeply. "I feel terrible bringing you this news and leaving, but I need to get back to Parv. I don't want to leave her alone upstairs. I just wanted you to hear it from me first."
Luna nodded, arms falling away as she took a step back. "It's alright, Hermione. Parvati needs you. I'll take care of Hannah."
Hermione searched her gaze for any signs of turmoil. "Are you going to be okay, Luna?"
The blonde tipped her head. "I will shed my tears for Lavender after I've burned her a candle and spoken a prayer."
Hermione nodded, unsure how to respond.
"Alright. That sounds…" she searched her mind for the right word, lovely and beautiful feeling grotesquely out of place given the gruesome circumstances. She sighed, heading for the door instead. "I'll see you both later today."
She returned to her room, sweeping broken glass and scrubbing oil from the wall while glancing over her shoulder at Parvati's huddled form every few minutes.
Seeing the strong girl reduced to this only broke her heart further. When her parents had perished Hermione had been the primary person affected, the main one to mourn their loss. This was the first time her grief was spread out among others she cared for, and while there was a perverse comfort in sharing such tragedy, it also deepened the wound two-fold.
It made her…
Angry.
She blinked, halting her ministrations and staring blankly at the stain on the wall.
"And if afterward, you find that your anger still eclipses your sadness… I'll be waiting."
She closed her eyes.
What did he mean by that?
She'd been in such a daze on the ride back she hardly knew what was real and what was a figment of her dark, twisted imagination.
Did he really say it?
She opened her eyes.
Yes. Yes, he said it.
Hermione dropped her scrubbing brush into the pale and slowly sank to the floor, leaning against the dresser.
His words were yet another layer to the enigma that was Doctor Thomas Riddle.
But what disturbed her the most was the thrill his words had caused versus the fear they should have inspired.
She didn't want to sit around and watch the justice system turn its back on her plight once again. Especially since this time, it wasn't only her plight to suffer. She was fiercely protective of those she loved and if this tragic experience taught her anything, it was that she loved the girls she called her friends in this desolate place.
She wanted answers for their sake. She wanted justice for Lavender.
And she wanted revenge for herself.
"Have another helping, dear, you look much too thin. I can't even imagine what you're forced to eat on that ship, and don't get me started on the natives of those islands, eating leaves and twigs like-"
"For Christ's sake, mum, his plate is already overflowing, let him be."
"Ginevra Weasley! Do not use such crass language in this house! Honestly, I don't know where you get it from-"
"Oi!" Shouted a male voice from upstairs. "Whoever stole money from my room is going to get my boot so far up their arse they're going to be tasting my toes until Christmas!"
Ginny raised a brow, holding her mother's mortified gaze.
"I am terribly sorry you have to hear such things, Harry, I would like to say Ron and Ginny aren't mine but I'm afraid the Weasley hair can't be denied."
Harry finally swallowed the bite he'd been chewing throughout the exchange.
"No need to worry, Mrs. Weasley, I assure you I hear far worse on the ship."
Molly shook her head, face solemn. "You poor dear."
Ginny rolled her eyes, perching on the edge of the breakfast table and grabbing a strip of bacon from Harry's plate with her fingers.
"Ginevra!"
Harry hid his laugh behind his napkin.
"What? He doesn't mind, do you Harry?"
"I don't care if he minds! It's called etiquette, you do not eat with your hands and you do not sit on the table!" Molly threw her head back with a dramatic sigh. "Honestly, I don't know how we're going to get you through the next Season."
Ginny took a large bite of bacon. "Then let's skip it."
Molly blinked, mouth hanging open. Harry cringed, braced for the onslaught sure to follow.
"What did you say, young lady?"
The blessed sound of boots trodding down steps filled the kitchen, prompting Harry to spring from his seat so fast he nearly toppled his chair.
"Sorry, mate," Ron said as he rounded the corner into the sunny room. "Didn't mean to keep you waiting so long." He pinned his sister with a narrowed gaze. "But someone raided my nightstand and stole half my shillings."
Ginny scoffed, still perched on the table. "In your dreams. The most you had in there was threepence, you broke basta-"
"Ginevra!"
"Why am I the only one getting yelled at?"
"Because it is more unbecoming for a young woman to use such vulgar language. Although…" She walked up behind her son and smacked him upside the head.
"Ah! Jesus, mum!" He clutched his head, ducking away. "What was that for?"
Harry bit his tongue to hold in the bark of laughter desperately climbing his throat.
"That was for your comment earlier, young man. Just because you are given free reign to speak like a heathen while at sea doesn't mean you may bring such language home with you."
Ron rubbed the back of his head, eyes downcast and shoulders drawing in as he stepped around the formidable Molly Weasley.
"Sorry mum," he muttered, making Harry shake with the effort to conceal his amusement.
"I will forgive you this time, Ronald. Now go speak with Harry quickly, I won't have you starting your day without a full breakfast in your stomach."
Ron beckoned Harry to follow him into the hallway with a tip of his head. Harry eagerly complied, turning to bid Molly a farewell but falling silent as she perched her hands on her plump hips and glared at her daughter.
"What did I say about sitting on the table?"
Harry spun back around, seeking refuge in the hall, their squabbling growing muffled as he emerged into the living room.
"So, what's up?" Ron asked as he flopped into a threadbare armchair, long limbs hanging off the sides, broad grin firmly affixed beneath bright blue eyes.
Harry raised his brow, crossing his arms. "You seem disturbingly chipper for a man who just realized he's been robbed."
Ron shrugged. "Probably Fred and George. They're scraping together every pence they can get their hands on to move out. I'll get it back. With interest."
Harry tipped his head, examining him at an angle. "Doesn't explain the sunshine on your shoulder. Something's happened."
Ron's smile widened, dimples appearing on either end.
"I think I've found the one, mate."
Harry blinked, arms dropping to his side.
"You've got to be kidding me."
"I know it sounds crazy, but I've never felt this way before!" He leaned forward, face imploring. "Susan's absolutely incredible, I mean, I think about her all day and night, and-"
"Ron." Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. "You met this girl two days ago."
"So? Mum and dad fell in love at first sight. Not everyone needs years. Sometimes you just know."
"You don't know anything about her," Harry snapped, eyes narrowed. "You're just infatuated because she shows you attention. You can't go making any major commitments."
Ron's expression pinched. "You don't know what you're talking about, Harry. You've never been in love. You're right, I don't know every detail about her, but that doesn't matter, I can find all that out later. Right now all that matters is how we feel about each other."
"Bloody hell." Harry shook his head, glancing away in annoyance. "I get that you like her, but you can't possibly be in love. And if she's telling you otherwise she's lying right to your face-"
"Hey!" Ron stood, shoulders back. "For your information, I haven't told her how I feel. I didn't want to scare her off-"
"I'd say so! Christ, how many times have you seen her in person?"
Ron glared. "Three times, and each time was better than the last."
Harry ran his hands over his face, groaning into his palms. "I can't even process this. There's been too much insanity over the last twenty-four hours."
Ron sighed, stepping forward. "I know I just sprung this on you. But I'm taking her to the Royal Navy party this weekend. Once you meet her you'll see-"
"I've already met her, Ron."
Harry swallowed heavily, holding his friend's gaze.
"Yeah, you met her at the Scotland Yard event, but that hardly counts. You have to really speak with her, get to know her. She's so bloody witty it's-"
"Ron." Harry took a deep breath. "There's something I need to tell you."
Ron drew back. "What is it?"
Harry thought of the opium den, of Susan's sprawled form beside McLaggen.
But he couldn't seem to find the words when Ron was looking at him with such hope in his eyes.
He really liked this girl.
Fuck.
Harry swallowed, changing course. He was about to detail his late-night excursion to the morgue when another realization struck him.
Susan.
She could provide a useful resource into the CID unit, help him push Lavender's case into the right hands.
Which meant speaking to her about the newest developments. If Ron discovered their connection to the investigation it was only a matter of time until the circumstances surrounding their first meeting came to light.
Double fuck.
It was such a mess. He needed to tell Ron. But he couldn't bear to crush him, not right now, not after the night Harry just had. He needed more time to think this through.
"Harry, what is it, mate?"
Harry sighed.
"I just… I just wanted to tell you I planned on asking Mione to the party."
Ron blinked. "Oh, shite. You had me worried there for a moment, I thought you were gonna tell me someone died." He laughed, Harry forced a smile on his face.
"No. Nothing like that." Bloody hell he was exhausted.
"Well, I'm glad you're asking her. I hope she comes. I'd love for her to meet Susan, too."
Harry was spared from having to respond by the sound of the front door opening and a familiar face appearing from the other side.
"Oh, Harry! Good to see you, my boy!"
He released a breath of relief, eager to end the previous exchange and begin a more pleasant one.
"Mr. Weasley, it's great to see you."
"You're a grown man and sailor now, Harry, you can start calling me Arthur."
Harry smiled. "That would feel too weird, Mr. Weasley."
Arthur chuckled, shrugging out of his coat. "What brings you by the Burrow this morning?"
"Just wanted to check in with Ron."
"Well, I'm happy I ran into you. I heard an interesting proposition brought forth at last night's session and I'd love to get the perspective of a military man."
"Hey," Ron folded his arms. "What about asking your son?"
Arthur cocked a brow. "Whenever I mention sanctions and laws you make up some flimsy excuse to flee the room."
Ron rolled his eyes. "Most that stuff's boring as shite."
"I'm touched you hold my career with such high regard."
Harry nodded. "I'm happy to speak with you, Mr. Weasley. Are you just getting back from the office?"
"Oh goodness no, I managed to make it home last night. I just had to deliver some paperwork first thing this morning."
Ron shook his head. "Fucking Lestrange, forcing you to do his grunt work-"
"Ronald, mind your language, what if your mother heard you?"
Ron rolled his eyes. "She's already clomped me over the head once today."
Harry blinked. "You're still working for Rabastan?"
"Unfortunately," Mr. Weasley sighed, stepping further into the room. "Now enough about me, how have you been? I hear congratulations are in order."
Harry went rigid. "Um, I…"
"Congratulations for what?" Ron asked.
Mr. Weasley glanced between the two young men. "Oh, I'm sorry. I spoke with Remus last night and…" he wet his lips. "Perhaps I'll leave you two with some privacy." He stepped past Harry, patting him on the shoulder. "It was good to see you, Harry."
He nodded, steeling himself for the conversation to come. "You, too, Mr. Weasley."
As soon as his father entered the hallway Ron rounded on his friend. "What is he talking about?"
Harry took a deep breath. "I'm being made Lieutenant."
Ron stepped back. "What?"
"It's not a big deal-"
"Not a big deal? Are you bloody mental?" Ron's brows drew together. Harry swallowed, shoulders tight.
"Listen, I meant to tell you-"
"It's bloody brilliant, mate!" Ron leaped forward, nearly knocking Harry off his feet with his embrace. "Congratulations, Harry! It's about time they promoted you!"
Harry blinked, mouth opening and closing before he finally bent his arms and patted Ron on the back.
"Uh, thanks, mate."
Ron had always been jealous of the attention his older brothers received growing up, followed by the success of their careers as adults. Feelings of inadequacy had taken root within the man and followed him through his own career, as well as his relationships with his friends. At least according to Hermione, who seemed to have a much firmer grasp on such concepts than Harry.
He wasn't sure how Ron would respond to the news of his promotion, and he felt a pang of guilt for expecting his longtime friend to be anything but supportive.
Ron released him and leaned back.
"That's what you came to tell me, isn't it?"
Harry swallowed, images of the morgue, of the dead girl on the slab, flashing before his eyes.
"Caught me, mate." His voice sounded hoarse to his ears. "That's what I came to tell you."
Hermione didn't know what was more surreal, seeing Harry within the walls of the Home or the fact that Umbridge had obviously sanctioned his visit.
She stood in shock, taking in his appearance, the rest of their surroundings coming into slow focus around him.
"Mione, are you alright?"
She blinked, coming out of her trance.
"Yeah. I just... can't believe you're here."
His brows drew together. "I told you I'd be paying you a visit."
"I didn't mean that. I mean it's strange seeing you in here."
He sighed, glancing up the arched ceiling, the shadows hovering along the rafters.
"It's a bit…" he tilted his head. "Dark."
"That's one word for it."
"And creepy."
"That's better."
His gaze fell upon her once more. "How are you doing?"
She blinked, starting to respond, then closed her mouth and looked over her shoulder at the girls lingering along the wall, sneaking glances at them.
"Let's go somewhere a bit more private."
"The Caretaker… Filch? He said I'm not to leave this room. Something about corrupting-"
"The bodies and minds of the innocent. He stole that line from Umbridge." She rolled her eyes. "Come on, I know a secret route that will take us near the garden exit. I need some fresh air."
"Secret route?" He asked, falling in stride beside her. "That sounds exciting. Do you use it to transport contraband through the building?"
She smiled lightly, chest loosening. "Guilty. I'm the head of a smuggling ring. Very illicit stuff."
He smirked. "Ron would be proud."
Hermione slowed her steps through the narrow corridor, glancing up at him.
"Did you tell Ron?"
"No."
His answer was a bit too abrupt.
She narrowed her eyes. "Harry…"
"I didn't. He's a bit distracted at the moment, I haven't seen much of him. But he deserves to know. He cares about you, Mione. He'd be devastated if he knew you were going through this and didn't tell him."
"I will tell him." She glanced ahead, fists clenching at her sides. "But right now I just want to… I just don't want everyone knowing right now. I can't bear their sympathy. Not again. I just need to-" she trailed off, the look on his face unnerving.
"Harry?"
He glanced away. Her spine straightened.
"Harry. What did you do."
He quickened his step. "I didn't-"
"Harry!" She reached forward and grabbed his arm, halting his steps.
He sighed, slowly turning to face her. "I might have told Draco."
She reared back, heart stuttering.
"What? Why did you tell him?"
"Because he cares about you, Mione."
Her jaw tensed, eyes narrowing. "Is that really the reason?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are the two of you joining forces to stop me from following through with the investigation?"
He pulled free of her hold. "What? Of course not!"
"I don't believe you. Why else would you have gone to Draco instead of Ron?"
His gaze hardened. "Ron's busy courting the daughter of the new police commissioner. However, at least at the present moment, you remain Draco's main obsession. And he came with me to Amortentia, he deserved to know what happened."
Hermione shook her head and spun away.
"I don't see what the big deal is, Mione."
"The big deal is Draco's going to be kicking the door into this place!"
"Maybe he should. Isolating yourself isn't healthy, especially after a tragedy."
She sighed deeply through her nose. "I just need time to process things on my own before I can process them with other people."
"Last night you were talking about seeking out the killer on your own. I think you're processing things just fine."
Her eyes narrowed but she remained silent. Instead, she spun on her heel and continued to lead him through the passage.
"I only told him about Lavender. I didn't tell him about-" Harry stopped short, prompting her to glance over her shoulder in confusion.
"Didn't tell him about what?"
Harry wet his lips, eyes bright in the dim lighting. "I didn't tell him about the Doctor."
Hermione stumbled, catching herself against the wall even as Harry reached out to steady her.
"I-" she swallowed, blinking rapidly. "I don't understand, why would you keep that a secret?"
Harry held her gaze steady. She felt a slow flush inch up her neck.
"I thought it would upset him."
Hermione glanced away. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I think you do."
Her hands clenched at her sides. "I-"
"I don't want to have another fight. And I don't want you to lie to me. So I'm willing to drop the subject. For now. But we will be coming back it."
She narrowed her eyes. "There's nothing to come back to-"
"As I said, we'll discuss it later."
She pressed her lips into a thin line, something wild breaking open in her chest, the need to fight, to defend was strong.
But she resisted.
Harry wouldn't understand. And if he knew the Doctor's parting words after the carriage ride home he'd drag her from this place kicking and screaming. No, Harry couldn't possibly know what it felt like to fester and rot with a darkness growing inside you, each day another piece of you consumed, forever lost.
Only the Doctor understood. Somehow, she knew he understood...
So she quelled her tongue and nodded.
"If you insist. Follow me, the garden is just ahead."
They merged into the sun-drenched oasis, the sound of the street beyond the privacy fence breaking the unnerving silence that surrounded them in the corridor.
"This is nice," Harry said as they walked past several of Luna's rose bushes, hands in his pockets. "I wasn't expecting something so vibrant after seeing the inside of this place."
Hermione nodded, running her fingers along a stem, tracing the thorns. "Poisonous creatures always bear the most colorful skin."
"Hm?"
She wet her lips, glancing up at him. "Nevermind."
He held her gaze for a moment before rubbing the back of his neck. "Listen, there's something I wanted to ask you, well, I planned on asking you before last night happened, and now I feel strange asking even though I think it's a good idea…"
She tipped her head. "Christ, Harry, it sounds like your gearing up to propose."
He laughed, shaking his head. "Sirius is being made Admiral."
Her eyes widened. "That's wonderful!"
"And I'm being made Lieutenant."
She blinked, brow raising. "That's … also wonderful?"
He smirked. "Am I that obvious?"
"You look like you've just told me you have two weeks to live."
He swallowed lightly, averting his gaze to the roses. "Feels that way. I wasn't really vying for a promotion. I haven't had a chance to process it yet."
"I know the feeling."
He sighed, gazing upon her once more, eyes softening. "I know you do."
She stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. "I'm happy for you, Harry. What did you want to ask me?"
"Oh, right." He turned to face her. "They're having a party this weekend announcing both promotions. I wanted you to come as my guest."
She tipped her head. "You mean as your date?"
"That's how the majority of people will view it, yes."
She couldn't contain her smile. "Didn't want to risk stringing another lovestruck damsel along?"
He rolled his eyes. "I've learned my lesson the hard way." Then his expression turned somber. "But I want you to come regardless. Your friends want to see you, and I think you need to see them, especially now."
She let her arm drop, stepping away. Before she could speak he stepped forward and caught her hand. "We'll leave after an hour. It'll give me an excuse, you know how I hate those types of things." His emerald gaze pleaded. "I'm overwhelmed by this, Mione. And I'm going to have to walk the stage and face everyone. Please," he squeezed her fingers. "Come. For me."
She swallowed thickly, breath caught in her chest.
Dammit.
"Fine…" she relented, rolling her eyes as Harry tugged her closer and picked her up off the ground in a hug.
"Harry, you're causing a scene," she hissed, glimpsing the other residents pause their work to stare upon the strange sight of a man on the grounds.
"Am I? Well, I suppose I shouldn't twirl you then."
"Don't you dare- Harry!" She shrieked with laughter as he did just that.
Finally, he set her on her feet, a boyish grin alighting his face that made her heart stutter, it had been so long since she'd seen him truly happy…
But soon the moment faded and reality came crashing back down, oppressive and sweltering. She pushed through, reaching for his hand once more and leading him through the foxglove and bluebells.
"Filch hasn't discovered us yet, let's make the most of it."
He smiled. "I like this version of you. Wild and dangerous."
She bit her lip.
Be careful what you wish for, Harry.
Instead, she affected a light tone, leaning against his arm as they walked.
"So, who is Ron courting?"
Harry groaned, tipping his head back.
"Funny you should ask…"
Dolores had been called many things throughout her life.
Many, to put it delicately, harsh names.
She wore each one like a badge of honor. Harsh names were often given to women with drive and ambition. Dolores had earned every scrap of every meal she'd ever eaten, every item she'd ever come to possess. She poured her blood, sweat and tears into each task she ever undertook and she wouldn't apologize for her success.
There were no rewards, no handouts in her household. After her great misfortune of being born female to an already destitute family, she was raised to serve only one purpose in her life, to engage in an advantageous marriage.
But Dolores had been born with the double misfortune of not possessing classical good looks. Yet another failure in her family's eyes. Yet another travesty to set her apart from the little trollops running around the street outside her window, barely dressed and eager to spread their legs for any man willing to pay them a compliment.
Dolores wasn't jealous of them. Dolores didn't get jealous. She had been born with intelligence and a keen sense of survival that was far more valuable than a narrow waist and big doe eyes.
She was better than those harlots, she'd made something of herself without relying on a man to lead her along with his name and fortune.
She was a bloody role model for the masses. The residents should be lined up outside her office each morning, eager to earn her favor, desperate for just a moment of her time.
She should be inundated with praise and admiration.
So the fact that she'd spent her morning pacing her office in worry over some slut that went and got herself killed absolutely enraged her.
The fact that she'd spent the previous night pacing the entrance hall awaiting the Doctor's return made her murderous.
And all because of that girl.
The meddlesome little bitch. The ever growing thorn in her side.
Sticking her nose where it didn't belong. Thinking she was above them all because her father had been an educated man.
But she was nothing. Just another castaway with illusions of grandeur.
And she would not, would not, jeopardize everything Dolores had built by bringing the police to their door.
Dolores wished she could discard of her like the others, regardless of the monthly stipend. No amount of money was worth the headache the girl induced on a daily basis.
But alas, such decisions were not up to Dolores and never had been.
Maybe if I make a special request they'll make an exception for her, just this once-
She sighed deeply, leaning back in her chair.
No.
The Doctor was right. She had to be strategic about how she dealt with the aftermath of the body's discovery. Granger was a useless swot, but she posed a threat all the same.
She would have to tread carefully with the girl for the next few days to ensure her silence.
She flattened her palms to the table, hands spread out, examining her ring finger.
The Doctor had said 'we'.
She wet her lips.
He'd said he was looking out for Dolores's well being.
And then he'd said 'we'... twice.
She felt a thrill seize her.
She felt foolish for thinking he was under that little tart's spell. Of course, he was too brilliant to be wooed by such juvenile antics. The girl was rebellious, a child acting out. Weaker men would be led astray by such trickery but the Doctor was different… he was so unlike any man she'd known before.
And his eyes.
They had a way of skewering her right through the middle, pinning her in place, yet at the same moment causing her to levitate… it was... exhilarating.
She felt foolhardy succumbing to the wiles of any man. She promised herself it would never happen. Her own success came first. Only stupid bints fell for the illusion of romance.
But he'd been so adamant about protecting her from the fallout, he wanted to work with her…
Maybe I can introduce him to the others…
She pursed her lips, eyes narrowing in thought.
The last person she brought into the fold had been a complete disaster, one she was still trying to recover from. They didn't trust her judgment anymore. But how was she to know the man was a complete pervert? He was a licensed physician for goodness sake! She'd assumed he possessed at least a modicum of self-restraint.
But Doctor Riddle couldn't be more different than that fool. Perhaps if they met him they'd see what she saw.
She leaned back, the early workings of a plan taking root in her mind when a soft rapt sounded at her door.
She scowled.
"Come in."
It opened and in stepped the vile creature herself.
Dolores released a long breath through her nose. "Ms. Granger. Right on time. Do come in."
The girl shuffled into the room, graceless thing that she was. Dolores curled her hands atop her thighs, drawing every ounce of self-control within her to maintain the ruse.
"Please allow me to express my deepest condolences for your loss. Ms. Brown was an exuberant girl and she will be greatly missed."
The girl raised a brow, lips pressed into a thin line.
No manners whatsoever.
Dolores cleared her throat lightly, pressing on. "I apologize if I startled you last night. I was just very worried about your well being. No one notified me you were leaving the grounds."
She remained silent, staring out through vacant eyes. Dolores felt the temperature rise within her.
"Well," she clipped. "I do hope you enjoyed your little visit with your male companion. You should know men are not allowed within these walls under any circumstance. I made an exception to show you how very committed I am to seeing you through this difficult time."
If the girl remained silent much longer Dolores was going to throw a figurine at her head, just to see if she was really there or merely a figment of her imagination.
"How very kind of you, Madam."
Dolores was tempted to throw the figurine even more. The girl's voice was clearly embittered.
How dare her! After all the exceptions that had been made simply to make the little bint happy! How hard was it to show a little appreciation?
"Furthermore," Dolores leaned forward, raising her arms and interlacing her fingers on the desk. "I wanted to inform you that you have been given leave to assist in the clinic when you feel up to it." The words tasted like black bile on her tongue, the mere thought of the trollop working so closely to the Doctor beyond unbearable.
Alas, sacrifices had to be made. And he had made it clear he was on Dolores's side. The girl was merely a tool to be used and discarded.
"How does that sound?"
The girls showed her first true hint of life, eyes brightening, spine straightening.
"I... " she trailed off, the lingering silence too much for Dolores's wrought nerves.
Such a miscreant. Can't even say thank you.
Dolores inhaled sharply. "We want you to feel-"
"We?"
Dolores blinked.
"I'm sorry?"
"You said 'we'."
Of all the things to get her talking…
"Habit. I meant myself of course."
Something flashed in the girl's eyes, there one moment and gone the next. It was highly unnerving.
It almost reminded her of-
"That is very kind indeed."
Her voice sounded different. Like it harbored something… sinister. Dolores leaned back.
"I am happy to provide you with all the resources I can." Her face like it was cracking into pieces with the effort it took to smile at the ungrateful bint. "Please, do not hesitate to come to me with any requests or concerns. Consider my door open at all times."
The girl raked her eyes over Dolores's face, something unreadable in her expression. Dolores's knuckles turned white with the force in which she clenched them.
"Good evening, Madam."
Dolores ground her teeth. "And to you as well, Ms. Granger."
She watched the girl cross the room with narrowed eyes, sagging in relief as soon as she disappeared through the door.
The little strumpet was truly insufferable.
No matter.
Soon enough, Dolores would ensure Hermione Granger never posed a threat again.
"Master Theo, a guest is here to see you."
Theo launched off the sofa with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm. He tried to mask his reaction by casually closing his book, setting it calmly on the side table.
"Thank you, Winslow. See them in."
The butler bowed, spinning gracefully on his heal and returning to the hall.
Theo swallowed heavily, running his hands through his hair, gazing down at his shirt, smoothing a palm over the front.
The steady tread of boots sounded just outside the room, his heart leaped into his throat-
Then fell into his stomach as a tall blonde entered the room.
His shoulders dropped, breath leaving him in a woosh.
"Way to make a bloke feel special, Nott. You look like you just had your cock lopped off."
Theo rolled his eyes, collapsing back into the couch.
"What do you want, Draco?"
"Can't a friend stop round for a visit?"
"Certainly. So I'll ask again, what are you doing here?"
Draco raised a pale brow, sitting on the opposite couch. "We aren't friends?"
"We are when it's convenient to you."
Draco blinked. "That's not true."
"No? So you aren't here because you need something?"
Draco scowled. "For your information, I came to check in on you. I spoke with Pansy yesterday."
Theo's expression fell, eyes averting down as he picked his book back up, tracing the spine. "Is that so."
"Yes, it's so." Draco leaned his forearms against his knees. "And if her father told her then I'm certain you already know as well."
Theo's jaw ticked. "Father told me two night ago. After I returned from the Club."
The silence was sweltering. Draco sighed. "And… are you... alright?"
Theo raised a dark brow. "Are you high?"
Draco rolled his eyes, leaning back.
"Seriously," Theo pressed. "This is freaking me out. Since when do you drop in to check if someone's alright?"
"Fucking hell." Draco carded his fingers through his hair. "Am I really that bad?"
"Yes."
The blonde sighed, shaking his head. "Why do any of you still talk to me if I'm such a self-absorbed arse?"
Theo shrugged. "Because we're all self-absorbed arses."
"At least tell me I'm not as bad as Blaise."
Theo narrowed his eyes in thought. "Depends on the day really."
Draco groaned.
"I'm just fucking with you, mate. No one is as bad as Blaise. Although you certainly have your moments."
Theo crossed his arms and legs at the ankles.
"Honestly, what's inspired this bout of Sainthood?"
Draco rubbed the back of his neck. "I royally pissed off the Greengrass sisters. Pansy told me I need to be a better listener."
"What did you do?"
The blonde sighed, painfully familiar with the reaction it would elicit.
"I suggested Tori become a nun."
Theo snorted loudly, quaking with pent-up laughter.
"Fucking hilarious, I know."
"Please tell me you meant it as a joke."
"I meant it as a means of escape. I was trying to help her."
Theo tipped his head, gazing up at the ceiling. "I'm imagining Pansy's reaction if I made the same suggestion to her."
Draco's sour expression melted away to a wry smirk. "She'd take a carving blade to your bollocks."
"Hm. Sounds about right."
Draco examined his friend across the small space. "So, have you come to terms with it?"
Theo blinked. "What's to come to terms with? I knew I'd be saddled with someone of my father's choosing since I was old enough to understand the concepts of Peerage and marriage."
Draco glanced away. "Am I a fucking idiot for trying to find a way out of this?"
"Yes. But love makes people into fucking idiots." His jaw ticked. "Or so I've heard."
Draco didn't pretend to be confused by the statement. There was no point.
"What makes me even more pathetic is the fact she already turned down my proposal." He laughed without humor. "I'm doing all this to chase after a woman that consistently evades me at every turn."
Theo shrugged. "Some things are worth the pursuit."
"Perhaps." Draco ran a hand over his face, leaning his head against the cushions. "Depends on why the person being pursued is running though, doesn't it?"
Theo's eyes flashed. "Maybe she's just being realistic."
Draco blinked. "What do you mean?"
Theo swallowed. "It's not like the two of you can actually be together. Society would never allow it. Your family would never allow it. Imagine the look on your father's face if he knew the truth about you. If he knew what really dwelled within your heart."
Draco raised a pale brow, mouth opening to respond, only to promptly close when he noticed the vacancy in the other man's eyes, lost in some dark thought.
"Wanting someone isn't the same as love, is it? And even if it were, what does love matter in the long run? Love fades. People change. Why throw everything away for a fleeting feeling that will end up poisoning you from the inside out in a few years time?"
Theo's breathing hitched, chest rising faster, eyes fixed on a random spot on the wall.
"Family, duty, loyalty, those are unchanging. That's what truly matters. Not some whirlwind dalliance from your youth. It'll be nothing but a distant memory a decade from now. A wild phase. A passing thrill. If it was actually worth something then it would be worth fighting for. But if they don't want to fight then why the hell should you?"
Draco raised his other brow, watching Theo with unmasked intrigue. He slowly wet his lips.
"Theo." The other man blinked, seeming to remember Draco was in the room. "Is there something you'd like to discuss?"
The brunette swallowed lightly, adjusting on the cushion. "I just think it's foolish for you to throw away your future on someone that doesn't want to spend it with you."
Draco's expression darkened. "You don't know the first thing about Granger and me."
"I know what you've told me, which is that she turned down your proposal and avoided you for three solid months, and continues to avoid you even now." He pinned him with a sardonic look. "I may not be an expert in women, but I can certainly read the signs when they're hanging in front of my face."
Draco's eyes narrowed to slits as he leaned forward. "At least I'm fighting for control of my life! Not rolling over like some dog eager to lick his master's boots clean."
Theo scowled. "So much for your foray into sensitivity."
Draco rose to his feet. "My first urge was to hit you in the face. I dare say I'm making wonderful progress."
"You came here. If you were looking for blind encouragement try another house. You'll only find realism and practicality within these walls."
"Funny, the room positively reeks of depression and despair. I'm sorry you've decided to give up on any chance at happiness, but don't condemn me for still giving a shite about mine."
Theo shook his head. "Fuck off."
"Gladly."
Draco straightened his coat and headed swiftly for the door. He paused at the threshold, glaring over his shoulder.
"How could I have forgotten?" Venom dripped from his lips. "Congratulations on your engagement."
Theo launched the book at his head, but by the time it completed its journey across the room the door was already closed, and Theo was once more alone with his blackened heart and withering soul.
Hermione exited the Matron's office in a state of shock.
What the hell just happened?
She didn't know what disturbed her more, Umbridge's saccharine sweet disposition edged in poison or the fact she was giving Hermione leave to work in the clinic.
What is she up to?
Hermione didn't trust the woman for an instant. Her sudden change in mood couldn't bode well.
She must have some motivation. I need to think about it, it has to be somehow related to Lavender…
She started heading towards the dorms on instinct. It had been hours since she'd checked on Parvati. She wanted to afford her friend some privacy, she had taken the news the hardest of them all.
She sighed in relief when she opened their door to find her roommate asleep, breath rhythmic beneath the quilt. Hermione lingered at the threshold a moment longer before quietly closing the door and slipping back into the hall.
She felt off-kilter. There was still so much to sort through…
She wanted to see the Doctor. To tell him about her strange encounter with Umbridge and gauge his reaction.
Did he have a hand in getting the Matron to sign off on the clinic? What about Harry's visit? How the hell did he manage to sway such a frozen heart?
She unconsciously started walking towards the steps leading to the outside the clinic. She froze, placing a hand against the wall to steady herself.
No.
She wasn't ready to see him yet.
His words replayed on an endless loop inside her head.
"... if afterward, you find that your anger still eclipses your sadness… I'll be waiting."
She couldn't decipher the full meaning behind his words, but she knew enough about the man to know he didn't make flippant remarks.
She sensed something monumental on the horizon, large enough to block out the sun and cast the world into darkness. She just didn't know if she was ready to look upon it.
She changed course, heading in the opposite direction and descending the stairs leading to her friends' room. She knocked softly on the door, not wanting to barge in as she had this morning.
"Come in, Hermione."
Hermione blinked, entering tentatively.
"How did you know it was me?"
Luna smiled, eyes averted to the item in her hands. "You have a distinctive knock."
Hermione closed the door behind her, glancing about the room. "Where is Hannah?"
"She said she needed fresh air."
"How is she?"
Luna tilted her head, examining her project at a different angle. "She seems better. All things considered."
Hermione nodded, walking towards the bed. "What are you making?"
Luna glanced up finally, eyes a mesmerizing blue. "A dream catcher."
"Is that what you were working on yesterday?" Hermione examined the hoop, now completely covered in twine, intersecting patterns webbed inside.
"Yes. I meant to have it completed last night, but I ended up sleeping in your room to dissuade Filch."
Hermione sat gingerly on the edge of the mattress. "Are those feathers?"
Luna nodded, holding the item between them. "I collected them from Lauma. They help trap negative energy." She traced a brown feather with her fingers. Hermione narrowed her eyes.
"What are those?" She pointed to an ivory decoration, already fearing she knew the answer.
"Bones."
Hermione glanced up sharply. "From what?"
The blonde shrugged lightly. "I'm not sure. A rabbit I think. Perhaps a raccoon."
"Luna, please tell me you didn't handle an animal carcass."
"Of course not." Hermione sighed in relief. "Dennis extracted them for me."
Hermione groaned, palming her face.
"I would have happily done so myself, but I didn't want to risk irritating my wound." Luna glanced to the thick bandage still wrapping her hand.
"The bones could carry just as much disease as the rest of the body, Luna. They could be crawling with bacteria."
"The Doctor allowed me to soak them in a solution to kill any germs."
Hermione blinked. "He did?"
Luna nodded, gaze averting back to her creation.
Hermione tilted her head, examining the girl. "Do you speak to the Doctor often, Luna?"
"How do you define often?" she responded without a hint of mirth.
Hermione shook her head. "Nevermind." She ran her finger along the edge of the hoop.
"This is quite lovely. I wish I had your creativity."
Luna smiled. "Now you do." She held the dreamcatcher aloft. "I made it for you."
Hermione raised a brow. "For me? Really?"
"Mm-hm." Luna tipped her head. "I know how the dreams frighten you."
Hermione's face tensed.
"Yes. They do."
"This should help dispel them. At least to an extent."
Hermione wet her lips, glancing down, focusing upon the feathers and bones woven into the design.
"What if they aren't dreams?"
Her question was barely above a whisper, but Luna seemed to hear her just fine.
"This is meant to capture negative energy, dream or not." Luna placed a hand over Hermione's. "And if you continue to have visions, perhaps they aren't malevolent."
Hermione swallowed thickly, nodding. "Thank you, Luna."
"You're very welcome."
As Hermione made to set the dreamcatcher beside her on the bed she knocked over the ball of twine situated between them. It hit the floor and rolled beneath the bed.
"Oh, shite." Hermione hissed, getting to her feet. "Sorry about-"
"It's okay," Luna said quickly, scrambling to her feet. "I've got it."
Hermione shook her head. "Don't be silly, I'll get it."
She lowered to her haunches, reaching beneath the frame.
"Really, Hermione, just leave it, I don't need it anymore."
Hermione blinked as she slid her fingers along the floor, papers sliding beneath her touch.
"Oh, I think I…" she blinked again as she knocked over a stack. "What…"
She lowered her head to peak under the bed.
"Hermione, don't-"
"What are all these?"
Luna knelt down beside her, shaking her head. "It's just-"
"Are these resident files?" Hermione asked, pulling a paper out to examine it more closely.
"Why do you have these, Luna?"
"I…" the blonde wet her lips. "I'm not supposed to tell."
Hermione's heart skipped a beat.
She didn't stop to ponder how she knew.
She just knew.
"Did Doctor Riddle ask you to steal these for him?"
Luna glanced away.
Hermione shook with the force of her reaction.
"Luna…" she reached a hand out, gently squeezing the girl's arm. "I'm not going to say anything to Umbridge, I promise. But you need to tell me why you have these."
Luna took a deep breath, eyes still averted down. "He said he needed them."
Hermione's hands clenched, the paper bending in her grasp.
"Did he tell you why?"
The girl bit her lip. Hermione set the paper aside, gently grasping her chin and turning her face until their eyes met.
"What did he say he needed the records for?"
Luna blinked rapidly, tears forming in her eyes.
"He said he knew the last Doctor was a bad man." Her voice was hoarse, broken. "He said he knew what he did to us. He said he wanted to help."
Hermione swallowed thickly, body vibrating. "Help how?"
"He said he wanted to find out who the bad man hurt. He said the records would tell him who needed to be examined. Who needed to be tested for…" she trailed off, eyes closing.
Hermione released her, tears forming in her own eyes.
"He wanted to check for possible pregnancies?"
Luna nodded, tears dripping down her cheeks. Hermione drew in a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves.
"Luna…" she placed a hand on the girl's knee, prompting her to open her wet eyes. "Did the last doctor hurt you?"
Luna bent her head, blonde hair curtaining her face. It reminded Hermione so much of the eyeless apparition from the hall that she reached forward and moved the pale tressed away on instinct.
"It's alright," she said gently. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want, I understand." She drew closer, wrapping an arm around the trembling girl.
"We don't have to ever talk about it, I won't pressure you. But I want you to know that if something did happen, it wasn't your fault, and you have absolutely no reason to feel ashamed." She was hardly aware of the tears streaming down her own face. "You're one of the strongest and most caring people I've ever met. Nothing and no one will ever change that about you."
Luna leaned in to Hermione's side, nodding lightly. "I'm sorry."
Hermione wiped the tears from both their faces. "Sorry for what?"
"For keeping the files a secret. He told me it was okay because you would find out eventually."
Hermione blinked. A thousand questions burned within her but she knew they were better directed at someone else.
She felt fit to burst.
The man played on Luna's tragic experience to get what he wanted. He put her in an untenable position that could have very easily resulted in her expulsion.
It was deplorable.
Suddenly the door started to open. Hermione shoved the stray paper under the bed before she fully processed her actions. Hannah entered, glancing around the room and then staring in confusion at the pair on the floor.
"Hi."
Hermione forced a small smile. "Hi."
"What are you doing down there?"
Hermione swallowed, mind reeling for an excuse when Luna slowly pulled from her grasp and rose to her feet. "Hermione was helping me look for sprites."
Hannah tipped her head. "Sprites?"
"Elemental fae spirits. They're normally invisible to humans, unless they're feeling playful."
Hannah smirked. "Gotcha. Did you find any?"
"Not yet. Maybe next time."
Hermione stared at Luna in silent wonder, seeing the girl in a whole new light. She wondered how often she used her outlandish reputation to her advantage, steering people away from the truth.
"Right, well…" Hermione stood as well, brushing her hands across her skirt to remove the wrinkles. "I suppose I should be heading back to Parvati then."
Hannah nodded, opening her wardrobe. "Give her our love."
"I will."
She glanced at Luna. "I'll talk to you soon."
The blonde smiled. "Don't forget your dream catcher."
Hermione leaned down to retrieve the item from the bed. The setting sun illuminated the ivory bones in pale orange and violet.
"I have a feeling I'll be needing this very soon."
Hermione stormed down the corridor.
She paid no mind to hiding in the shadows or walking on tiptoes.
No.
She was livid and wanted, needed, that rage to be felt.
The Doctor had lied to her. Misled her. Used her.
Even worse, he had done the same to Luna.
Sweet, tender, nurturing Luna.
Hermione needed answers and she would get them now.
But she didn't march to the clinic. A face to face confrontation would only lead to more lies.
She needed to see the evidence for herself and connect the dots free from his coaxing voice.
So she stormed to the room he had taken her to after discovering her racing along the hallway after curfew.
The room across from his chambers.
The makeshift office piled high with paperwork. She hadn't paid close enough attention the night she was brought here, too overwhelmed by the haunting apparition and his sudden appearance.
But it was all starting to come together now. Keeping a private office so far away from the clinic.
He was obviously hiding something.
She was relieved to find the door unlocked. But she wasn't surprised. In order to lock it, he'd have to request the key from either Umbridge or Filch, which would mean tipping them off to his… extracurricular activities.
She inhaled sharply at the mess that awaited her inside, the same explosion of papers covering every surface, stacked high along each of the four walls.
She wondered how many Luna had stolen for him. The thought enraged her more.
Because something didn't add up. If he was truly concerned about the last physician impregnating a resident why did he request files for past girls that no longer lived in the Home?
No… he was up to something alright, but he had lied to Luna about whatever it was, playing her past against her.
Hermione tore through the office, grabbing papers at random, reading the headers, her stomach twisting into knots as she started to discover a common theme…
All of these girls were listed as runaways. None of them seemed to have any family or emergency contact listed outside the Home.
And then she found the most damning document of all.
Lavender's.
Tears filled her eyes as she read over the details in her friend's medical file, her behavioral write-ups, all of her past transgressions listed in black and white.
And on the last page, circled many times over in red ink, was one word, bold and ominous, pulsating before her eyes.
Suitable.
Hermione blinked, setting the papers carefully aside, as though they retained some piece of the girl they detailed and reached out to grab another file.
She flipped to the last page, heart jolting as she saw the same word circled in red ink.
Suitable.
Hermione swallowed, picking up the next stack, and the next, and the next…
Suitable.
Suitable.
Suitable.
She blinked rapidly, hands shaking.
The door opened behind her.
A tall shadow appeared across the opposite wall, stretching endlessly in either direction. She gasped, spinning on her heal, papers dancing in an invisible current.
"Ms. Granger." His eyes contained a raging storm. Lighting illuminated the room, thunder shook the floor.
It paired beautifully with the chaos brewing inside her chest. Her heart was a war drum, each deafening beat a call to battle.
He stepped into the small space, so close she could feel the heat radiating off his body.
She refused to retreat.
He pressed the door closed behind him, eyes never straying from hers.
"I've been expecting you."
His voice was a silk net cast over her head. She withdrew her blade and cut through the bindings.
"You told me to come when my anger eclipsed my sadness."
She tipped her chin up, defiant. His pupils expanded rapidly. She didn't flinch.
Instead, she raised the papers clenched tightly in her hand, pressing them against his chest.
"I find that I'm exceedingly angry."