Chapter 12

Hermione didn't know what this feeling was. She wasn't sure she could ever have fully understood it till that moment.

For most of her life she had relied on her friends to be her unwavering rock and support, and to the most part they always had been. She was the smart one and the one they always listened to. She cited her miserable weaknesses for not speaking to Harry earlier and for likewise, foolishly trusting that he would unashamedly agree with her about everything. They were no longer children, he could make his own mind and Hermione had instead made the inconceivable judgement to pit him against the one person he loved more than her.

Hermione could have crumbled under the knowledge of his anger at her. It stung like a betrayal – more so from Ginny who she thought would have admitted more freely to her husband the truth. Just goes to show that one can never know someone. Yet, there was the resolute part in Hermione that knew she needed to move forward and continue with her task. She needed to help Draco –even if he was still not the person she most wanted to help, she needed to.

It was the morning after her devastating visit to Harry's place and Hermione found herself in a whirl of emotions. She had barely slept, re-thinking the previous night's events and wondering what she could have done that would have made it better, if anything. For one, she shouldn't have used Ginny's birthday as an excuse, she knew that now.

Sighing, Hermione looked around her home. It was a bare London flat that was comfortable but basic – with a single bedroom and bathroom and a small living room with an attached kitchen. Hermione spent so much time at work she had never felt the need to make up the place into anything more livable; it was sparsely decorated and fitted to be functional over ornate. At least it's not my prison, Hermione thought to herself sadly.

How could she help Draco though? They had looked in nearly every book in the library, poured over pages of information without a strand of insight, there was no point returning without knowing more. What she needed was to talk to someone smarter than her who would give her a different perspective she could tap into but there were few to no people who matched that bill and were alive. Did they need to be alive? Dumbledore

She leaped onto her feet – yes, Dumbledore. He was the wisest wizard there ever was and if there was one person who would know something that no other person would, it would be him.

She knew what she needed to do. She would go visit Dumbledore's painting in Hogwarts.


Three hours later and Hermione found herself sitting on the Hogwarts Express as it chugged away from the gloomy London city and meandered around the country-side. She sighed, a feeling of melancholy hitting her so hard. She had not been back to Hogwarts since the end of school, and most certainly never on her own. It was always with Ron or Harry or some other classmate. It felt odd to go entirely alone, yet at the same time she was eager to see the place she still called home once more.

As Hogwarts came into view, it took her breath away again, like the first time she had laid eyes on it, its wonder and magic still sending rippling excitement through her. It had been her home for so long – somewhere where she had forged her identity and had adventures that would shape her so fundamentally. She couldn't help but smile as the train finally lurched to a halt, signaling that it had reached its destination with a loud roar.

She was quick to leave, bouncing out the carriage and starting the long walk up to the castle. It seemed so familiar, as if it had not changed one bit. Hermione struggled up the steep slope and it took her a good while before she reached the entrance of her old school. Thankful that she didn't have to journey anymore, she entered the castle and walked through to the main hall.

It was empty – probably most of the students were in class or out on the field enjoying the lovely late afternoon. She smiled sadly when she saw the Gryffindor table her, Harry and Ron used to sit at all the time. An image of the laughing trio stuck in her mind and again she was reminded of the painful argument she had with her best friend the night before. The truth was jarring.

Looking over, she paused violently when she saw a flag with the Slytherin crest, swaying gently in the wind. Her heart dropped so suddenly and without warning, that Hermione was rooted to the floor. She knew how stupid she had been to leave Draco on that note. She was very sorry for their argument – sure, it was despicable of him to have used that word but she knew her frustration had gotten the better of her and she had provoked him when he was already in a corner.

Hermione knew she could make it up to him though if she just found a counter-curse. Dumbledore would have one, she was positive of that. Or at least as positive and hopeful as she could be.

It was very easy to find his painting which sat beyond the main hallway at the head of the teacher's table. It had been installed in the summer after Harry had defeated Voldemort and the new painting had made quite a presence for himself very quickly, especially for being cheekier than the Headmaster most students remembered. Perhaps, it was to do with the fact that he no longer had any duties or perhaps precisely because he was only a representation of the dead Dumbledore, he was very much more care-free.

Hermione hesitantly approached the frame and was relieved to find that the portrait of Dumbledore was sitting in his usual place, twirling his beard. As soon as he spotted Hermione, he paused and he beamed, a twinkle appearing in his blue eyes.

"Well, Ms. Granger! How delightful to see you – I was wondering when you would come and visit me. I didn't think I'd have to wait this long! My, my!"

Hermione smiled embarrassed, "Sorry Professor. I have been so busy. I should have come earlier, I have been meaning to for so long! It's strange, Hogwarts is just like I remembered it".

Dumbledore smiled back amicably, "Ah my dear, but of course it is! How are you? How is young Potter?"

Hermione's face paled and Dumbledore noticed but he continued without pause. "Well then my dear I expected you came to ask me a question. You have that look on your face that I know all too well. Tell me, what's troubling you?"

Hermione felt a tear slip out before she could stop herself and she sank to the floor at the base of the painting. "It's a mess" she replied honestly, "And I don't know if you will believe me".

"Well, I've never had a reason to not believe you before". His frank honesty appeased Hermione and she told him everything – from first meeting Draco, to finding out about the Clariano spell, to their fight and then to Harry not believing her. He listened without asking questions, his head cocked thoughtfully. When she was done, Hermione gulped for air and sniffled slightly. Despite being 28 years old she felt like a child under the presence of Dumbledore which was both comforting but also off-putting.

"Very interesting" the old wizard mused, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "I did hear about this charm being used in Azkaban – mind you it was such a scandal when it came out!"

"You did?" Hermione asked hopefully. She couldn't help but spring up with excitement. He looked at her gently, "Now Ms. Granger, I know you want to help your friend but it is true - there was no cure for it ever found".

As Hermione's face dropped he continued on kindly, "Don't be disheartened my lovely child. Every magic curse can be tricked. You said it was a shield that surrounded the manor, right? If I am to look at history, I think this shield will break, 'fall away' as it is, if Draco manages to go outside it."

"But he can't" Hermione countered, "not without being struck down with such pain. It's so bad it leaves him with scars".

Dumbledore only smiled back at her, "Ah but maybe he doesn't have to step through."

Hermione gazed at him confused. Sometimes this old man did not make any sense at all. "I don't understand what you mean…"

"You're the smartest girl I know Ms. Granger. You will find a way" he replied mysteriously. His gentle smile had returned.

There was a sudden sound behind her and looking behind, Hermione realized the main doors had opened and school-robed children were starting to stream in. It was nearly dinner time. Some of the students crawled to a stop as soon as they spotted her.

"Oh my god it's Hermione Granger." "Who? Oh!" "Oh that is so cool – do you think I could get an autograph." "She's so pretty" "Is that actually Hermione?"

Hermione flinched and turned to Dumbledore apologetically, "I think I need to go…" The wizard nodded understandingly, his gaze never leaving her as Hermione quickly hurried past the groups of ogling students and out the main hallway. She forgot how famous she had become after the war. The media mostly left her alone (except for the few stories when she had unsuccessfully dated anyone else other than Ron) but she would always turn heads in public.

Hermione was just about to reach the entrance when she heard a shout. She panicked, thinking it was a student who had followed her out, when she realized the voice was much older. A figure jogged up to her and she immediately recognized it as Neville Longbottom.

"Neville!" The two crashed into an akward hug, before Neville stood back and beamed at Hermione. "Blimey, Hermione! I didn't know you were coming here. You should have told me – I could have freed up some classes."

Of course, Hermione had nearly forgotten that Neville had become a Herbology teacher at Hogwarts. "Sorry Neville – I'm actually here on a research mission so I completely forgot".

"Ah, for work?"

"I…yes" Hermione smiled tightly. While she enjoyed Neville's company usually, Hermione was itching to finally go back to the manor, apologise to Draco and tell him what Dumbledore had said. However, knowing the blonde Slytherin he would just say what stupid things the old foolish man was saying again.

"How's Harry?" Neville asked.

God, why did people keep asking her that. "He's fine" she snapped back a bit too harshly. Realizing her mistake, she smiled apologetically, "Sorry, just you know, work is stressful. How is Luna?"

At least Hermione could muster some interest on the well-being of Neville's wife – she was constantly fond of the blonde girl. Neville and Luna did make an odd pair but they also fit so charmingly well together.

"She's fine. She's harvesting fairies for a good luck potion".

"Fairies?"

"Yeah she's gone to Czechia of all places to search for some of them. She should be back soon though."

"That sounds intriguing! I hope she has luck finding them". Neville smiled gratefully at Hermione, glad she hadn't made any snide comment like most other people would.

"I really should be going though Neville" Hermione said, trying not to sound hurtful to Neville's sensitive feelings, "However, if I do come back here you will be the first person to know" she promised. Neville seemed to understand, after all Hermione was an important Auror and gave her one more hug before seeing her off.

With new resolve, Hermione headed down to the Forbidden Forest – the only place she could apparate from the castle The train was probably a safer option of travel but Hermione knew it would take too long and it was already starting to get dark, the sun receding rapidly.

The apparation successful, Hermione immediately stumbled down into the clearing before the Malfoy manor. Thankfully, her mind had better formed the idea of the manor so she was not dumped in the middle of the forest again. Hermione quickly hurried through the gates and up the front entrance. She paused momentarily before the door – she wasn't sure if it was the same nervousness but something did not feel alright. She opened the door and stepped in, only to be greeted by absolute silence.

It was like the first time she had walked in, all those weeks back. There was no fire and Draco's usual seat was unoccupied. Hermione felt the hairs raise on the back of her neck. Something was definitely amiss. She quickly checked all the rooms downstair, the dining room, kitchen, sitting room but there was no sign of any life. Panic rising in her, Hermione dashed upstairs and then floundered. There were so many room doors – she did not know where to start. She went to the library, but it was empty again. The pile of books were left untouched from when she had stormed out. Ducking back out, Hermione realized she did not know where Draco's bedroom was. With heart in her mouth, Hermione took the task of dashing up and down opening up each and every door.

The dread kept on building up, the more and more rooms she searched with no sign of Draco or Masher. Finally, at the end of the hallway she screeched to a halt at a the last door. It had to be his. It was as big as her room door and painted a deep rich black. The dark wood was emblazoned with a wolf's head with a snake coiled around it loosely. Quickly, Hermione pushed open the door and dashed in.

She froze as soon as she entered and took in the sight before her. Draco lay still in bed, his face a deathly pale white and his shirt torn open to reveal painful new gashes grazed deep across his whole chest.


Author's Note:

Enjoy!