The Secret

Part One: Pretense

Chapter Fourteen

For the first time in her life, Hermione found herself at loss for words. How was she supposed to respond? Did he expect them to respond? He basically admitted to rising from the dead, which, no matter how old, powerful or resourceful your family was in the Wizarding World, resurrection was impossible.

How did he do it? How did he come back?

She had, on several occasions, brought up these questions when she could. Each time he would brush it off and say he'll eventually explain, when he was ready.

And finally, that moment had come.

"We, Mya and I, went into hiding when we found out she was pregnant. Cantrell women, like most women in the wizarding world, retreat from society and lock themselves in their homes; Mya was no different, especially considering the circumstances. War was growing, Voldemort was increasing in power and size. We managed to keep appearances, popping into the Order here and there, with an easy concealment charm over her stomach. I would still go out on missions and no suspicions were ever raised during those nine months and the subsequent two years that followed. Thirty-three months of family, happiness and love." He smiled, lost in the memory. "It wasn't long before Dumbledore was knocking on our door, warning us of Voldemort's intentions with our kids—with the both of you…I-We…Mya never trusted Dumbledore. And although my father always warned me about him…in my moment of weakness, and in our desperation to keep our family safe, I practically gave our lives to the man.

"We allowed him into our family. I showed him my powers, our abilities and regrettably, we shared our secrets. Fortunately, Mya convinced me not to tell Dumbledore about your magic or the lockets I put it in. He wasn't there to witness when I removed part of your magic but he was always there to repeatedly tell us to give you up. Of course we were against the latter. It wasn't until late September of 1981 that a lot of things changed.

"We were forewarned about a mission to attack our home. So, we moved around a lot—not sticking to one place, yet somehow a death eater would find us and we would be off to the next place. After the fourth time, instead of running we went into action. We wrote the letters of good bye and prepared the lockets. While we dropped off Isobelle, we left Nathanial in Dumbledore's care—which as you both know, was our biggest mistake. When we returned back to the manor, Dumbledore and Nate were gone, without a trace. We removed the familial bond to the locket by then…so there was no link…no presence of you a-and…" Cantrell took a deep breath, meeting Blaise's eyes. "I think that's what broke Mya…the lack of a presence. She—we—got so use to that bond; the presence of the two of you, intertwined with our magic, alive. When I removed the bond, I knew of the risks but nothing prepared us for the emptiness we would feel once that connection was gone. We had no idea where you, our son, was. No idea if you were safe and nothing to go off of except for a couple meaningless promises from Dumbledore. Not knowing broke your mother. She became desperate and was practically obsessed with the idea of being a family again. She wanted to find you, reseal the missing pieces of her soul and run off, away from anyone who knew us. Away from the wizarding world and away from Voldemort.

"The only way to do that would be for Voldemort to think we were dead, and the only way for Voldemort to think we were dead was for him, or his followers, to kill us. Driven with the need to survive and save her family, she dived to Dark Magic-it was the first kind of magic she was ever taught and sadly, the last she ever used. If it wasn't for the fact that I was also desperate to find my family and leave the wizarding world, I would've questioned how she'd found the potion so quickly. I would've stopped to read about the repercussions, or even do some more research—but it was all so easy and we were so eager to feel whole again." His voice broke off then and whatever force he was using to block her from reading his emotions, came down when he covered his face with his hands.

Hermione felt his sadness, his grief and above all else, guilt.

"She found the potion amongst the stacks of her grandmother's books. With the instructions from her grandmother and the vast amount of supplies in the Cantrell stocks, making the potion was easy—it's most important ingredient was phoenix and familial blood. We used mine, since it was Cantrell magic that kept our bond. Voldemort was still on a relentless chase to find us, and on September 30, 1981 he got through our wards. We drank the potion right before they found us, but we were stupid to think he would just use the killing curse…"

His voice became somber and was barely above a whisper. Hermione knew he was reaching the end. "He tortured her for hours and forced me to watch the whole thing…a-and I couldn't do anything…I—"

"You don't have to explain that part. I—we understand." Hermione found herself saying. Silent tears were falling freely from her eyes. The pain issuing from him was…familiar and equally as unbearable as the death of her parents.

"He…he thought she was pregnant. Her brother fed him the wrong information…so he tortured her to until death, ensuring that any babies she may have possibly had—died along with her. It was only then, that he turned and hit me with the killing curse." He continued quietly. "I woke up three days later, feeling… empty. Empty and alone. The remaining bond that I shared with Mya was gone, as if she…as if we, never existed. The emptiness was almost torturous. I wallowed in grief for a long time, long after Voldemort vanished. I dug myself a hole and remained in a really dark place for a very, very long time…it wasn't until much later, when I started reading about the potion she used…that I realized the potion was never going to save her. W-we used my blood to seal it…and Mya wasn't bonded to me by blood but my marriage…and she knew this…she sacrificed her life, to ensure that I kept mine."

Hermione had unconsciously stood up from her seat and slowly gravitated toward him as he spoke. Maybe it was the pain in his voice, or maybe it was because he sounded just as broken as she was. Whatever it was, she felt compelled to comfort him. To tell him that he wasn't alone anymore…to tell him that it wasn't his fault.

Cantrell's hazel eyes looked up at her once she reached him and she found herself imaging what those eyes had witnessed sixteen years ago. She expected his eyes to full of grief, which she found but above all else, there was a feeling of happiness—a sense completion and adoration at the sight of her…she saw a similar look back when he introduced himself in the library of the Cantrell Manor.

She crutched down next to the man and engulfed him in a hug. When he clutched on to her, she felt a sharp pain in her head and everything went black.

OOO

When she opened her eyes, she found that she wasn't in the little room at the back of the library. She was in a white room, crouching between two empty cots that looked like hospital beds. The room was familiar, but she couldn't quite place where she had remembered it until she saw the large, black clock on the wall opposite her, that she recognized the room as the small infirmary in the Cantrell Manor.

The dark doors to her far left opened and a much younger Cantrell-in his early twenties-slowly entered. His hair was shorter and elegantly parted to the side. His wrinkles were gone and his face gleamed with unremitting happiness and nervousness. He stood at the door, for perhaps five minutes, deep in thought. He didn't acknowledge nor feel her presence and that's when she realized she was stuck in a memory. His memory.

The clock ticked and she watched as both arrows landed on eleven. He looked at the time then walked towards one of the beds enclosed with curtains. Hermione quickly followed and gasped.

On the bed lay Mya Cantrell, sleeping peacefully; her hair sprawled out on the pillow and a small, content smile on her face. Hermione stepped from behind Cantrell and moved closer, mesmerized by the beautiful woman before her.

For a second she wished the moment was real. She wished when she reached for her face, her fingers wouldn't slip through. She wished she could shake her awake and tell her that her family was going to be okay. She wanted to tell Mya that she was going to love and take care of both of her boys as furiously as she did. She wanted to tell her that she was eternally grateful for the sacrifices she made for her family sixteen years ago. She wanted to tell her that she never thought it would be possible to love someone she couldn't remember, someone she didn't know...and yet love was all she felt for her as she lay sleeping.

Cantrell moved from beside Mya to the other side of her bed, where a small white crib was positioned. Hermione stood behind him, and watched how he picked up two new born babies; Infant versions of herself and Blaise. She was slightly surprised at how similar they looked; varying only in skin tones and Blaise bright hazel eyes would be recognizable anywhere. She almost laughed at the fuzz of hair that covered the top on her head but there were so many emotions running through her and tears quickly gathered behind her eyes.

Hermione sat at the edge of the bed, away from Mya, and watched Cantrell interact with his newborns. He looked down at her with the same look he always had when he looked at her; happiness, love and an overwhelming sense of completion.

Suddenly, he looked up as if he finally realized there was someone else in the room. When their eyes met Hermione panicked, anticipating anger but instead Cantrell smiled.

And everything was okay.

OOO

When Hermione opened her eyes, she was now looking at the worried face of Blaise Zabini.

"Holy fucking shit. Thank Merlin." He muttered as he helped her sit up.

Cantrell sat on her other side, worry and apprehension in his eyes. "Language." He said sternly, but didn't take his eyes off her. Blaise only grunted in response.

When she managed to sit up on her own, she rubbed her aching head, "What happened?"

"Well," Blaise begun, a frown sitting on his face. "We were having a pretty serious conversation, you got up hugged Cantrell, and…fainted, I guess."

She clenched her eyes closed, the throbbing in her head becoming nearly painful. "I-I—"

"What did you see?" Cantrell asked quietly. She turned attention to him, a smile creeping on her face.

"I-I saw a memory. I think." The dizziness she felt was saliently easing off but her headache was relentless. "Of you, me and Blaise…we were babies–new born babies. We were in the infirmary back at the manor. You picked me up and … Mya was there, alive but sleeping...She was so beautiful." She whispered. The more she explained, the clearer it got; it was almost like a scene from a movie, just replaying in her mind.

"Wicked." She heard Blaise mutter.

"You're right. It was indeed a memory; just a couple hours after you were born." Cantrell said, a sad smile on his face. "It appears you can see into minds, with a person's touch, as I do."

"That's…" She started, but didn't really know what to make of it. Did that mean she couldn't touch anyone without begin transported into a past memory? Into their thoughts? Would she faint each time?

"This was the first time. Its quite natural to faint—I can assure you that I blacked out numerous times before getting a hang of it. You will have to suffer through the headaches though…they take a lot longer to get rid of. Nothing a potion won't be able to fix though, if it gets too bad." He said, clearly sensing her confusion.

"How does it work? Would I faint each time I touch someone?" She itched away from Blaise's hands who were still out and ready to catch her, as if she would faint again.

"It is possible to touch someone and not be thrown into their mind, or a memory. You have to be very in tune with their own emotions because the emotions tigers the thought, or in my case as you saw, it triggered a particular memory." He paused. "You have to want to invade someone's mind."

Hermione quickly shook her head, "I didn't mean to invade—"

"I'm assuming, my emotions took ahold of you too strongly." He smiled, bashing away her concern. "That was probably one of my favorite memories. I am nothing but pleased that at least one of you got to see it." He stood up and offered her a hand, which she hesitantly took blocking off any other emotion that wasn't her own feeling of bewilderment. Thankfully, when he brought her to her feet, she remained in the present.

"Did you see me?" She quickly asked. The memory replayed in her head like a movie, and she couldn't escape the look that he had given her at the end. As if he knew her future self was there with him.

She wasn't very sure if he would understand her question but then he nodded yes, "The mind is a precious thing, and I take pride in my ability to know all parts of mine-including when there is an intruder."

Silence followed his response and they were once gain reminded of how powerful Cantrell truly was.

"I think that'll be enough for today. I'm sure you both need rest and time to…digest everything I've told you." He said, with a stern yet partially concerned voice.

Hermione nodded. "I'll see you in the morning," She said quietly, then looked at Blaise who was looking at the wizard with a face she couldn't read—her magic clearly spent.

Before either could say a word, Blaise stepped up to Cantrell and engulfed him in a-awkward-hug. Cantrell, who was about an inch shorter then Blaise's six foot two frame, reached around him and patted his back. A happy smile, which even reached his eyes, settled over Blaise's face.

"I'm…sorry." She heard him mutter.

Hermione looked at them in silent amazement. With them so close to each other she saw the hardly noticeable resemblance between the two; at the moment Blaise truly looked like his father's son.

She thought she would be able to keep the both of them at a distance but the more time she spent with them, the more she grew to care for them. Hermione intended to keep the promise she made in Mya in that memory; she was going to take care of them, keep them safe and love them as if they were… like they were..

Family. She thought. She was going to do all these things because they were her family.

Hermione was surprised to find Malfoy and Pansy sitting on opposite sides of her room as she entered; One sitting on the window bench and the other in her usual seat by the mirror. She didn't bother to hide her surprise.

"What the hell—"

"Relax Hermione. I told them to wait for me here." Blaise said, walk past her and throwing himself on her bed.

She crossed her arm over her chest. "Why not your room?"

"I don't have time for this." She heard Malfoy mutter.

She turned an accusatory glare in his direction and opened her mouth to instruct him to leave, only to be interrupted by Blaise.

"Hermione please. It's important." He mumbled into her sheets.

"Can't we do this tomorrow?" She asked tiredly.

"I won't be around tomorrow."

"Why?" She asked, now concerned.

"Take a seat and I'll explain." She sighed and went to sit beside Pansy, who had her eyes closed, clearly exhausted. Hermione couldn't blame her; she had been up since the wee hours of the morning, reading, organizing and researching.

Quite frankly they all looked pretty exhausted for entirely different reasons.

Blaise sat up, rubbing his face "So earlier tonight I met with Dumbledore and the Order to talk about becoming a spy."

Hermione perked up, "Great! How'd it go?"

"Alright I guess," He scratched the back of his neck. "Said I have to master occlumency...the lessons with Cantrell haven't been working so Dumbledore said he'll try."

"When do you start the lessons?" Pansy asked. She settled her head onto Hermione's shoulders, which looked slightly awkward considering Pansy was a couple inches taller than her.

"He said as soon as possible. He wants to get things situated first. Tell the heads and such."

"Wait-" Malfoy started. "Dumbledore is going to teach you?" He glanced at Hermione, some apprehension in his eyes which she immediately caught.

"Yes, he said he would, but…after what Hermione and I discussed with Cantrell I don't think that'll happen."

"Why not?" Malfoy inquired, a skeptical brow raised.

Blaise's jaw tensed. "He doesn't trust Dumbledore."

"Well that was obvious the night we first visited the Order." Pansy said with a roll of her eyes. "Why doesn't Andy trust him?"

"Long story."

"But—"

"Not important." Hermione said quickly interrupting. She didn't want anyone to know what Cantrell had just shared with them. Cantrell had a hard enough time just telling the two of them. Besides, it was…private. Between family. "Cantrell probably has no idea what he's up to, have you told him?"

"Haven't gotten the chance." Blaise frowned, and evaluated his next words. "I, um…asked him about it…"

"About what?" Draco asked, standing up and looking out the window. Hermione took a glance and saw the familiar light of the sun slowly rising over the horizon. Merlin, what time was it? How long were they in that damn library?

"I asked him why did he leave me with the Zabini's, instead of muggles." Hermione felt anger and annoyance slowly heave through his body. Suddenly she wanted Blaise's powers; his emotions were all over the place the whole night and she wished to calm his anger and take his pain and confusion away.

Draco looked back at them and nodded, "What did he say?"

Blaise laughed without humor. "What else? You know Dumbledore he never gives anyone a straight answer—I didn't expect him to either. All he said was that he 'had his reasons' and in the end it was to 'protect me.' Which is—"

"Bullshit." Pansy finished.

"Said the same thing in that first meeting too." Hermione added with a roll of her eyes.

"Yeah, pure hippogriff shite. I'm a bloody death eater for fucks sake! And I'm a Cantrell. We are not death eaters! I could hear my ancestors rolling in their graves. Dumbledore knew the plan he had in his head didn't go the way he wished!"

"Or maybe-" Malfoy started, "Maybe it went the way he wanted it to. Think about it; you're a death eater and as of today, a spy for the order. I think…this may be what he envisioned the whole time. This may have been his plan from the beginning."

Blaise's eye darkened upon the realization and truth to Malfoy's words. Hermione guessed this of course, but she didn't have the gull to tell Blaise-scared of what his reaction would be.

Also, admitting that Dumbledore saw Blaise becoming a Death Eater without stopping it, would also mean admitting that Dumbledore knew of the dangers that the Grangers faced and did nothing to protect them.

A part of her wanted an explanation. She wanted to believe that Dumbledore was a good man and a good man wouldn't put a defenseless child in harms way... but he did. How far would he go to take Voldemort down? How far did he go? Should she be worried about Harry's fate?

"It was war." Pansy tried reasoned. "Maybe he knew Voldemort would return, maybe he didn't. I'm sure he knew the Zabini's—he could've done much worse, like put him with the Dolohov's… He knew nothing really bad would happen to him with the Leiliani. I'm sure he kept an eye on-"

Hermione quickly interrupted her. "He wasn't going to let anything bad happen to him?! Blaise has a mark on your skin that will probably never go away! He wasn't given a choice." She stood up and started pacing. How could Dumbledore do that to the Cantrell's? Knowing how distraught Mya was. Knowing how broken her magic was after he disappeared with Blaise... "And what if Cantrell never came back for us?"

One look at Blaise's distressed form and the anger returned. She suddenly wanted to crawl under her covers and hide from this world-a world where many lied and trust was lost. She was surprised when Pansy stood up to hug her. Hermione flinched away at first, fearing being delved into her mind. But nothing happened when Pansy forced her into a hug again—she guessed she was too consumed with her own thoughts and emotions to be thrown into anyone else's.

"You guys are making some valid points but I think you're forgetting that it's Dumbledore we are talking about here. He's good-

"Good is subjective." Malfoy sneered from his corner.

Pansy glared, "Dumbledore might have lied and filled us with a whole lot of bull, but in the end I think he'll do the right thing. He's Dumbledore." The taller, dark haired witch said with an encouraging smile.

"His end may be sooner then we think." Hermione asked after letting go of Pansy. She considered not saying the next words, but she had been eating at her for almost week... "He's dying."

Blaise's and Draco's head snapped up to attention. "What?" They exclaimed in unison.

Hermione sighed. She refused to sit down-she was sure she would fall asleep the second she did. "His hand. I'm sure you've all seen it. It's a curse. I don't think he'll be able to fight it for much longer. Harry said he's had it for about a year now."

"A curse?" Malfoy questioned.

"I don't know what curse hit it." Hermione said, biting her lip as she withheld information. They didn't need to know it came from a Horcrux-that would start another row of questions. "But it's only worsened since Hogwarts ended. I think... Snape was helping him recover... but now that Snape has shown his true colors... there's no one to stop the curse from spreading."

Silence engulfed them as they digested her words.

"Dumbledore dead?" Pansy started. Hermione was surprised to see tears in her eyes. "That's going to start havoc! He's the only thing keeping Voldemort at bay! He'll kill thousands. He'll try to recruit me again. He'll take over the ministry-everything I'm working for-" she began trembling and breathing haggardly. Even her eyes looked around wildly.

She was having a panic attack.

Before Hermione could react, Malfoy had swiftly taken a spot in front of her. With his hands on both of Pansy's shoulders, he lowered his head so she was looking into his eyes. "Pans. Breathe."

Her hands continued to tremble at her sides. Blaise conjured a Calming Drought-his own eyes wide and frightened.

"I don't know for certain," Hermione tried to reassure her once the potion began to do its job on the witch. "But if Dumbledore's death comes sooner than expected, you have to be strong. There is an end to this war. I can assure you of that. There is a way to take Voldemort down-with or without Dumbledore. Just trust that the Order, which is now all of you, will continue to protect and fight any kind of evil."

It must've been a little past seven in the morning when Pansy had finally calmed down and Blaise volunteered to take her back to her room. The halls were bright but Hermione's own room remained dark with a charm Blaise placed on her curtains.

Malfoy lingered at her door. She had long past given up her resistance to her bed and laid on her side facing him. Her hair fell out of the braid she put it in earlier that day and the thick, unruly locks dropped all around her. It took all of her power not to close her eyes.

"Leave. I want sleep."

"It's Potter isn't it?" He questioned, ignoring her sleepy demand. "Who has to kill him?"

Her silence gave him his answer.

"And you're going to help him? You'll be risking your life..." He hesitated. "I don't know what you have to do to Voldemort but I know-"

Hermione laughed, finding humor in his words. "You care what happens to me Malfoy? Did Blaise tell you to do that too or is this coming from a place deep in your heart?"

He glowered at her. "I'm was going to say-"

"Wherever Harry goes, whatever challenges he faces, I will be right next to him. As his friend, I'll keep him safe. As his family, I'll make sure he survives." She said as sternly as she could.

Malfoy observed her. Reading her face in ways she couldn't describe. Her magic was so exhausted, she couldn't even read whatever emotion he felt towards her words-anger? Disgust? Who knew.

But his next words surprise her, "Potter wouldn't last an hour out there without you." Then he bid her goodnight and closed the door behind him.

Hermione was sure she fell asleep at some point because Draco Malfoy was only nice to her in her dreams.