Hermione still held the invitation in her hand when she ushered the Duchess out the door. When she turned around, the Widow stood behind her, wand in hand with a new fire in her eye. Startled, Hermione began to whisper protego, but for once, the Widow was prepared. She didn't have a curse in mind though, only a summoning charm aimed at Hermione's invitation.
She took her time opening it, watching Hermione's face, but Hermione didn't move to stop her. Why bother hide it? She thought. She watched as the Widow's mouth drew up into a disgusted sneer. "What's so special about you that you got an invitation from one of the princes themselves?"
Hermione snatched her invitation back with her own summoning charm. "You know I don't answer questions." Mostly because I don't know the answers myself. "I will have a tailor coming to the house in the next couple of days. I need a dress."
Hermione brushed past her before anything else could be said, aiming for her bed in the servants' quarters. Her destination gave her pause; why did she continue to stay in the servant's quarters? She could literally take back any room in the house as hers; it would be nice to sleep in an actual bed again instead of the padded metal frame she'd gotten used too. Provided I'm ready to sleep with one eye open and a curse on my lips. Maybe it's better to sleep where they aren't willing to go. Yet, anyways.
As she came to the door of her room and twisted the knob, she remembered Sirius' warning. Whether or not the Wdow and her her daughters would venture here under pain of death, it was disturbingly easy to get in and out of her sleeping quarters. Inside she searched under her bed amidst the weeks of old newspapers for a book she'd taken from the library on protection spells and charms. She took note of suitable enchantments and what they were supposed to do before laying her hands on the wood of the door to her room, and whispering the words of spells and charms, imagining the wards acting as their descriptions on faceless intruders and evil-doers.
She'd never taken on so many spells at once, even practice didn't compare for most of it was trying to get the spells to work in the first place. Now words she'd never spoken before came easily to her memory from a text she'd barely glanced over. Images of her spells appeared in her mind as clearly as if they were paintings in front of her. She felt elated that wandless magic had begun to come so easily to her, but she was beginning to feel a bit drained, power beginning to ebb a little, like she was coming up on the bottom of a barrel.
When she finished, she felt tired. Extremely tired. She plopped down on her cot in exhaustion and wonder. Is this what the book meant by over-exertion? It was only a few charms. Hermione laid down searching under her pillow for another of the blocks of chocolate from Sirius that she stashed away. Maybe my blood sugar is just low. Chocolate fixes everything.
Drowsily, Hermione finished off a few squares and tried to cast a lumos, but the light wouldn't come. Not even a flicker. What did come was darkness, quickly creeping in from the edges of her vision. Wasn't the blood sugar.
Hermione woke quite a while later feeling as if she'd been sucking on cotton balls. Her head pounded as if she'd been drinking well into the wee hours of the morning. Merlin, what happened to me? It took her a few moments to remember what she did, but once she remembered, she cursed. How many times did they warn me not to overdo it? The book, Sirius, and McGonagall! But it was just so easy! Gah!
She pushed the heel of her palms into her eyes, trying to rid herself of the close-to-death sensation and the crusty build up in the corner of her eyes. She felt like a complete fool. And she was hungry, starving in fact. What time is it? Did I miss dinner?
"Tempus," she said out loud, holding her hand out, expecting the time to appear above her palm, but nothing appeared. "Tempus," she said again more forcefully, but still nothing. She swallowed heavily as her heart sank into her bowels. "Oh, no. Oh, Merlin. Oh shit!"
She struggled to stand up from her cot and ended up on her knees in front of it. Wildly, she searched out the book that started it all. She clasped it to her chest and used one hand to level herself up from the floor. She still needed light and the room was dark; she hadn't restocked her candles once she learned lumos and well, now she didn't seem to have a shred of her magic. The kitchen. I can even get something to eat. Oh Merlin I screwed up.
The walk to the kitchen felt like a hundred mile journey, but she could hardly think about that now. I'm such a fool! So stupid! How could I be such an idiot? How I'm I supposed to fix this one? The kitchen was dark but there were candles and matches from her magic-less days and a clock. It read 5:43 and judging by the dark, it was 5:43 a.m. After lighting a candle, she collapsed against a wall and opened the book and flipped to the back.
She stopped reading there because it only repeated warnings again. Surely there couldn't be something I missed? But obviously there was because she was sitting on the floor of the kitchen weak as a new born lamb and close to tears. Angrily, she brushed away the ones that fell and began reading in the candlelight.
This text has made many efforts to warn its readers, time and time again, but still, accidents happen. In the event that the reader has forced themselves beyond their magical capabilities, there's little more that he can do but to rest. Magic used in this way is very much like a muscle and a muscle, when overworked and strained, must be rested.
Mild exhaustion is normal, and while it should not be ignored, it is not to be worried about. Severe exhaustion, however, including blackouts, muscle ache, extreme hunger, requires food and a respite from magic. In some cases, a person's magic is weakened to latency. It will come back, stronger than before even, but the time required for recuperation is specific to the individual. Often, the stronger the person's magic, the slower the recuperation.
Hermione let her head fall back against the wall with a thump. How long must I wait? So much could happen in the blink of an eye. With more tears threatening to fall, Hermione rummaged around the kitchen looking for fruits, vegetables, cheese, anything that didn't need to be prepared. As she went she munched on what she found until-after what could have been considered an alarming amount-she stopped, feeling gorged and sleepy again.
She was pleased to find that it took less energy to force herself to stand, but she wanted her bed again. She trudged back to the servants quarters, laying her hand on the door before turning the knob; some of her protection charms required physical contact. Kreacher waited in her room shuffling from foot to foot impatiently, glaring at her as she walked in. I certainly don't have the energy to deal with your nasty temperament.
"Master tells me I must wait for your response," he muttered, holding out his missive from Sirius.
You'll never guess who I just had the most delightful chat with, Hermione. I didn't know you were going to the ball as a Prince's special guest. Mind telling me why Lord Peacock is sniffing around, asking about you? No chocolate until you tell the truth.
Hermione started to sigh, but yawned instead. I don't have a quill. I really need to sleep. Send the little gremlin away. "Tell Sirius to come round later. I'm too tired to deal with His Royal Sassiness and his crabby court jester."
Kreacher's eyes grew wide in his head before narrowing to a glare, but he was gone with an indignant snap of his fingers and Hermione was asleep just as fast.
She woke again around noon, judging by the sluggish movements of her stepsisters and the insistent growling of her stomach. Although famished, Hermione's exhaustion resembled a got-caught-up-in-a-book morning tiredness rather than the perpetually-bed-ridden feeling she'd been reduced to before. With her book on wandless magic in tow, she raided the pantry again and settled down in the parlor to read and wait for the Marquis. Though she got no response from him, she was sure he would show. The man was tenacious.
Hermione began from the beginning of the book -history, theory and all this time-and did not get far before her mind turned to the Malfoys. Though the answer to her predicament was burning a hole in her pocket, Hermione didn't want to acknowledge it. Rationally, accepting the Duke's offer made more sense than what she was doing now. Adoption was no longer an option. She could wait, take her mother's inheritance on her birthday and go, but what horror would the Widow unleash on her between now and then? Without magic, Hermione had no defense. With the right combination of spells, she could lock Hermione in a broom closet for untold amounts of time and no one would be the wiser. Or she could chain me up the same way I chained her. Hermione was powerful, but she was useless if she couldn't call it up.
The Duke's offer looked more and more lucrative, but Hermione couldn't help but wonder what would happen after she accepted. Lucius Malfoy conniving and mean in a way that the Widow could only dream of being. There was the off chance that she bore a non-magical child. What would happen if she couldn't bear a child at all? She would be a failed investment that Malfoy was stuck with. There was the other option of heir to think of, Theodore Nott. His wife could have a child first. So many variables. I don't think Arithmancy has a formula for futures with so many different outcomes. No way to plan. Which is the better of two evils?
A bit of a scuffle outside drew Hermione's attention out of her thoughts. Sirius was strutting in the door, Hermione's stepsisters behind him like moon-eyed calves. He shut the door behind him rather harshly, before they could follow him in, but the dashing smirk on his face belied the force he used.
"If they didn't have their mother's money-grubbing-mass-murdering genes, I might think your stepsisters quite lovely," he said, taking one of the chairs for himself. "What would that make me? Step-brother-in-law and uncle?"
Hermione giggled at the preposterous notion and sat in a chair across from him, the same one she burned before. "You're horrible. I'll never understand why I put up with you."
"Because you love me dearly. Now," Sirius leaned forward, elbows on knees and Hermione sighed. "What's this business with Malfoy? Why is he so interested in your comings and goings all of a sudden?"
Hermione hesitated a moment. Sirius was impractical and impulsive, but he wasn't stupid. If she didn't give him the full story, he'd ask questions until he had the full picture, starting from the very beginning, when the Duke approached her at the ball. He also had a nasty temper, and finding out that Malfoy cornered her more than once and that she never told anyone, especially him, could end badly.
She still had to tell him about her stagnant magic. He'd been so proud of her then, but what about now?
And then there were her stepsisters. They were stupid blighters when it came to most things, but they were still their mother's daughters. They could be listening at the doors or even have one of those eavesdropping ears that Ron's brothers created for their joke shop-anything really. Hermione didn't want to speak of anything in the house. At least, not outside of my only safe space.
Although, suddenly, Hermione didn't want to show him where she'd been sleeping for months now. She'd never been self-conscious before, but that was when she had a real bed, when her hands were soft and her clothes were plain because she preferred them that way. The thought of bringing the Marquis to the servants' quarters made her feel shameful and the dress she had on made her feel ridiculous.
The Marquis saw all the cogs in her head spinning and watched as she picked at her admittedly well worn dress. "When's the last time you left this house, Hermione?" Her lips pursed in a very Duchess-esque manner. It's been months since I've seen something beyond the front yard. "Well come on then," he said standing up. "An early dinner never hurt anyone."
He held his arm out to Hermione, waiting for her to take it. I'd look so shabby standing beside him, she thought, but she took it anyway. As Hermione suspected, Astoria and Daphne were just outside the door listening. Sirius flashed them a panty dropping grin-Hermione would call it downright devious-as he escorted Hermione out the front door.
"Tell me what's going on between you and the Malfoys. From the absolute top."
"What makes you think there's much to tell, Uncle? Am I not pretty enough to simply catch someone's attention?" Hermione wasn't snippy because of some perceived offense, just annoyed that she couldn't hide anything from the man beside her.
"Downright gorgeous, love, but you forget; I'm a Marauder. I know when I'm being lied to, and Malfoy doesn't do anything unless it serves his purpose. So, starting from the top, why is Malfoy sniffing about?"
Hermione opened her mouth, still wondering How much should I tell him? "Everything, Hermione." Perceptive bastard. At the gate of the estate, Hermione felt the uncomfortable squeezing sensation of Side-Along apparition between one step and the next. Sirius guided her towards one of the little restaurants nestled in Diagon Alley where the maître seated them.
Sirius sat across from her, looking expectantly for an explanation. "I'm just a means to an end Sirius. The Malfoys have a couple of problems to solve and I'm a convenient solution for both."
Sirius snorted, accepting the wine carafe from the waiter and poured Hermione a glass. Under the table, Hermione picked at a loose thread. "There's nothing convenient about you, Hermione. The Duke would have to search you out and then get past that harpy in order to even speak to you. What's so special about you? And what's this problem he has? His son's marriage?"
"Yes." Sirius' brows furrowed and he pursed his lips in a manner Hermione suspected he learned from the Duchess. He was getting impatient.
"There is a realm of politics that you were never introduced to because your parents are muggle, a realm that I grew up in, that I know. Flitting about the Malfoys is going to drop you right in the thick of it." He leaned forward, lifting her chin, as if to impress upon her his point. "You're intelligent Hermione, but if you don't tell me what is going on, you will have as much a chance as a snowball in hell. Tell me now, what does Malfoy want with you?"
Hermione looked back down at her hands in her lap. I didn't want any of this.
"He first approached me after-"
"Which 'he'?"
"The Duke, not his son." At his Sirius' nod, Hermione continued. "After dinner, the night Father met the Widow. I couldn't be in the same room as them canoodling, so I left. He found me in the garden, offered up his son to me. He didn't give me a reason then, just tried to scare me into it. He shoved me down. And then at the wedding, his son was my escort. We had one dance and it didn't end well. I hadn't talked to him again until a few days ago-the same day I told you about the Widow."
Sirius didn't look as angry as she thought he would. Instead he looked grimly pensive. "When he met you in the parlor, what did he say?"
"He's worried about his son producing a legitimate magical heir for the throne. Pureblood marriages are producing more and more squib children, so he thinks that children resulting from marriage with a muggle-born will increase his chances. He just wants to use me."
Sirius nodded slowly. "He chose you because you're intelligent, unnervingly powerful, and not at all hard on the eyes," he said reaching up to run his hands over the scruff growing on his face, making a rasping noise. Hermione's eyebrows flew up into her hairline and she could feel a serious blush making itself known across her cheeks. What a compliment.
Sirius grinned a little, at Hermione's reaction. "Did you think I was blind? I've noticed that somewhere along the way my little hellion of a niece grew up." She rolled her eyes heavenward, dearly hoping the rose bloom on her cheeks wasn't growing. Sirius grinned a little wider. "I noticed many other men noticing as well. Lingering stares and such."
She glared at him, even as her lush spread. "Nobody ever said anything about it before," she mumbled.
"They're all just too stupid or too scared to approach you," he scoffed. "Malfoy Jr resorted to asking daddy to do it."
Hermione was taken aback by her need to defend Draco Malfoy of all people, but kept her mouth shut. She remembered him being accepting of the idea, but not particularly pleased about the arrangement his father cooked up. Nor after the dance they shared, could she imagine him asking his father for any favors, especially something he could probably handle himself. He can handle you himself, huh?
"There is more," Hermione mumbled, cheeks still red. Sirius' eyes narrowed, compelling Hermione to tell him her last secret. "I-I messed up."
Sirius' brows furrowed. "What do you mean 'messed up'?"
"You're last letter had me worrying about my safety, so I looked up a bunch of wards in one of the spellbooks I hid and I layered them on my door so that only I could get in and she couldn't hurt me in my sleep or lay a trap for me or something else when I wasn't paying attention and I overdid it." Her words rushed out, but her last sentence was quiet and slow. "I can't use my magic and I don't know for how long."
His eyebrows rose up into his hairline, then dropped, darkening his face, lips pressed together. Hermione bowed her head and resisted the tears that pressed behind her eyelids. So stupid.
The waiter came back around with their plates-salmon Hermione was pleased to see- and left again. Hermione and Sirius ate quietly. Sirius seemed to be lost in thought and it unnerved Hermione a bit. Sirius was a talker, a doer, not a thinker. He didn't ponder options, make plans and such, yet here he was with the most pensive look Hermione had ever seen. She didn't think he could taste what he was eating. She wanted to know why he wasn't angry. Why isn't he foaming at the mouth? She quite expected him to blow up before she'd finished speaking. Two or three times, she thought he was about to say something, but he closed his mouth around his fork instead. Hermione was beyond anxious by the time dessert came around.
"Why won't you say anything?" Hermione asked him, pushing a bite of cheesecake around on her plate. "You made me spill my guts and now you've got me squirming in my seat and you still won't say anything." He sighed and leaned back languidly in his seat, crossing his arms.
"I've been thinking, love-"
"I'm well aware," Hermione snapped. Sirius lifted an eyebrow, making Hermione scowl.
"I've been thinking," he restarted. "And I think you've been thinking the same thing too, but, maybe this is your chance to get away from your step-mother. The woman's evil and unhinged and you're a threat. I don't think you have time to make another plan. Maybe you should just go along with Malfoy-"
"I don't want to 'just go along' with anything-"
"Then what would you rather do, Hermione?" Sirius hissed, leaning forward abruptly. "You can't save yourself. We've tried. Your magic is powerful, true, but you don't have it for an indefinite amount of time. How long before she notices you not using it for every little thing like I'm sure you were doing? You're intelligent love, but cocky. She'll take advantage of your helplessness in the blink of any eye. Even if you did have it, what would you do? Kill her? Azkaban is not the place for you, Hermione. It's no dream palace." In that moment, Hermione saw demons that her uncle hid resurface in his eyes. She looked down at her plate to avoid seeing them. He was angry and she was ashamed.
"I don't want to owe the Malfoys anything," she's whispered. "What if it's just as bad as living under the Widow's thumb? What if it's worse? They can hurt me in ways the Widow isn't capable of. And my child? What if the child's a squib? What will happen to me then? Uncle, there's so much I can't even begin to plan for. At least I know the Widow's evil."
The marquis grinned wryly. "That's why we play the game, Hermione. We may not win, but we won't be the losers."
Hello, lovely people! Long time no see. School just isn't letting up this semester, and I'm reaching the point where students start to think, "I have to get a job and be a grown up and pay bills after this." (I think that count's as a quarter life crisis right?) This chapter's a bit longer than usual since I tried to write in between class work and things just kept going. Actually, I'm pretty sure this is two chapters in one. Also, some reviewers have pointed out that the story has been a bit inconsistent with some facts so I'll be going over what I wrote before and making it match up with what I'm writing now. Please, please, PLEASE don't hesitate to point out if you see something along those lines that needs to be fixed/re-done. I more than likely won't catch everything myself but I'll try my hardest. All the best!