Chapter 25: The Fealty of Beasts
Yesterday
"You haven't told him," Theo commented gruffly over her shoulder, and Hermione promptly dropped the vial she'd been holding, barely managing to grasp it between two fingers before it shattered on the ground.
"I - what?" she stammered, slowly recovering from the surprise of his appearance. She found, despite her best efforts, that she couldn't quite manage to meet his eye, busying herself with the vials and books she'd set out on the counter. "Haven't told him what?"
Theo tilted his head, noting her avoidance, but pressed on. "You're still hearing voices," he remarked, and at her reflexive grimace, he frowned. "Don't deny it," he warned. "I'm not up for playing dumb today."
"I'm not denying it," she insisted. "I'm just - " she waved a hand, gesturing to the counter. "I'm busy."
"You certainly are," Luna agreed, leaning over her shoulder, and Hermione flinched, shaking her away.
"There," Theo pointed out, frowning. "You just - " he mimicked her motion, making a face. "Is it still Ginny?"
"Oh, it's Ginny now, is it?" Hermione prompted crossly, not wanting to address the actual question. "Not Weaslette?" she mused. "Or She-Weasel, or - "
Theo cut her off, waving a hand. "You and Daphne are risking your lives to go get her," he reminded her. "I think I can at least manage the burdensome effort of calling her by her name."
"Well, that's nice," Luna contributed chirpily, and Hermione sighed, thoroughly irked by both of them.
"What is it you want?" she demanded, and Theo smirked.
"Me?" he asked impishly. "Or should I leave you to the private conversation with the phantom in your mind?"
"I know what she wants," Hermione muttered. "To drive me insane, as always."
"Not true," Luna remarked brightly, perching on the counter and swinging her legs. "I'm just keeping things in perspective."
"What I don't know," Hermione continued, ignoring her, "is why you're here, Theo."
He shrugged. "Draco said you were working on blood wards," he supplied. "Figured I should help."
"Why?" Hermione sniffed. "You think I can't do it?"
Theo bristled. "What I thought is that you might need some blood," he informed her, pointedly holding out his wrist; the unmarked one, she noted, but she still felt herself bristle at the subtle implication. "Or were you thinking of trying something entirely different to get through the wards this time?"
"You mean that you thought I needed some pure blood?" Hermione prompted, suffering a rush of annoyance. "Did you come here to remind me that you're better than me or something?"
"No," Theo snapped, looking startlingly offended by the accusation. "I came here, Granger, because I'm a closer relative to the Lestrange bloodline than Daphne, Draco, and Pansy, and considering that you need to mimic Lestrange blood, I thought I should be the one to help. But if that doesn't seem logical to you," he growled, "then fucking - fine, then - "
"I'm sorry," Hermione cut in hastily, reaching out to prevent him from leaving. "Theo, I'm just - I'm stressed," she lied, shaking her head. "I haven't done this in a while, and I'm just - I'm sorry," she repeated, releasing his arm. "Okay?"
He looked more than a little bit irritated, but forced a nod. "Fine," he muttered, and leaned against the counter a second time. "You know fucking well that I don't give a shit about your blood, by the way," he pointed out, and she nodded regretfully, feeling a twinge of shame.
"I know," she agreed. "I guess I just - " she grimaced. "There's just something about doing this that makes me really uncomfortable."
"What, handling blood isn't one of your preferred indulgences?" Theo joked. "Astounding. And here I thought you'd find it sublime."
"You know," Luna interrupted spiritedly, "if you told him what you know, I bet he'd underst- "
"So, anyway," Hermione interrupted loudly. "Yes, Theo, if you're offering, I could use some of your blood. Draco gave me this," she added, holding up a book of Sacred Twenty-Eight genealogy, "but I haven't checked it yet, so - "
"My mother was a Fawley," Theo told her. "Her mother was a Lestrange."
"Ah," Hermione permitted. "So, you and Rodolphus are - "
"Cousins of some kind," Theo confirmed, shrugging. "Never really thought it relevant until now." He paused, watching her set up the series of vials. "How exactly do you do this?" he asked, gesturing to the open page of an old potions textbook. "What are these incantations for?"
"Well, it's essentially muggle science," Hermione said, "though it would take far too long to do without machines, I'm sure, not to mention a highly advanced proficiency in both chemistry and hematology - "
"I don't know what any of that means," Theo cut in flippantly, "but continue."
"Essentially," Hermione began, taking Theo's hand and holding her wand to his palm, murmuring a slicing spell and then letting the subsequent trickle of blood drip into the cauldron she'd dug up from Draco's potion stores, "I use severing incantations to separate the elements in the blood, and then I use them to form a mimicry of someone else's chemical makeup. In this case, I can make a mixture of Rodolphus Lestrange's blood by, um - " she paused, trying to figure out how to describe it. "Pulling strands, basically. Think of your blood like a series of intertwined threads," she clarified, and Theo nodded. "I use a severing charm to pull out the threads that you and anyone else in the house might share with Rodolphus, and then I fill in the blanks with whatever other threads I can find."
"Sounds," Theo began, and paused, frowning. "Imprecise."
"It is," Hermione agreed crisply, healing the cut on his palm and then turning back to the sample he'd provided. "But blood wards are ancient magic, really. Not unlike the other things we've handled today," she added, waving a hand to reference upstairs. "But the point is, it's not that difficult to fool a blood ward - particularly when most purebloods already share so many common threads."
"Ah," Theo said. "And you figured this out how, exactly?"
"Well, as you've mentioned, I'm a genius," Hermione reminded him, and he smirked, rolling his eyes. "Though I'm beginning to wonder if Luna hadn't actually been the one to sneakily plant the idea in my brain," she muttered under her breath, glancing at the counter.
"Aw," Luna said cheerfully. "You're sweet."
"Luna?" Theo echoed, watching Hermione's gaze flick to where the blonde was sitting. "Are you talking to Lovegood now?"
Hermione hesitated, and then sighed deeply, setting the vials back on the counter. "She won't go away," she admitted, finally permitting her frustration to show. "I can't seem to get rid of her," she confessed, "ever since I saw - "
She stopped. Theo arched a brow.
"Yes?" he prompted, and Hermione forced a smile.
"Nothing," she lied. "But she's been popping up since yesterday."
"Huh," Theo said, looking thoughtful. "You said these visions of other people that you have," he mused, eyeing her. "They each represent something different?"
"I think so," Hermione told him. "Harry kept me alive," she explained slowly. "Ginny shows up to give me hope, or encouragement. Bill is cynicism, mostly," she sighed, rolling her eyes, "and then Luna is - " she grimaced, and Theo gestured expectantly, waiting. "She tells me things I don't want to hear."
"True things?" he prompted, and Hermione hesitated.
"She's supposed to be my truth, yes," she permitted, thinking of what Luna had forced her to see in Theo. "But I don't know if that necessarily means that everything she says is true."
Theo scoffed. "Astonishing that you would need someone to provide you cynicism," he remarked drily, and Hermione made a face.
"I'm just saying that she was a master of doublespeak when she was around in real life, and she's no different in my subconscious - or whatever this is," she clarified, gesturing to her temple. "She has a knack for being right, sure, but I'm not about to run around calling her some sort of seer."
"Nor should you," Theo agreed. "But as a reminder, she's not here. Whatever you're seeing," he commented pointedly, reaching out to tap the center of Hermione's forehead, "it's you."
"You don't know that," she reminded him grimly. "Hearing voices is - "
Theo waved a hand, cutting her off. "Yeah, yeah, for a normal person, it's a problem," he said, as though that were not a consummately worrisome remark. "For you, though, it means something. What's she saying?"
"Uh," Hermione said uneasily, glancing at Luna's eagerly blinking eyes, "nothing, really. Just, making comments here and there." She paused. "She did say that she thinks Pansy is trying to take care of me."
"You think that," Theo corrected her. "It's your brain - "
"I'm sure you're right," Hermione pressed, "but still. Can we just pretend, as a fun game," she suggested with a sigh, "that I'm not entirely insane, and agree to act like it's possible that Luna is - I don't know, visiting me through some kind of advanced magical hallucination?"
"You're not insane," Theo reminded her. "But doesn't it strike you as interesting, at least, that the person who is supposed to represent honesty in your life appears to you while you're keeping a secret from Draco?"
"What's your point?" Hermione asked, frowning. "Are you suggesting that if I tell him I hear voices, Luna will just - " she grimaced. "Go away?"
Theo shrugged. "I don't know," he said flatly. "I'm just trying to connect the dots, since you clearly don't wish to do it yourself."
She groaned, dreading a lecture. She considered, then, that perhaps that had been what it was like for Harry and Ron to be friends with her, and she silently thanked them for their many years of allegiance despite her nosy condescension.
"What's your insistence on me telling Draco?" she asked Theo, making a face. "Why is it so important to you that I tell him about this?"
"Because you're fucking hearing voices, Granger," Theo growled back, glowering at her. "Just because I don't think you're crazy doesn't mean I think it's normal, and I'm not exactly thrilled about keeping it from my best friend, either - "
"You know, you keep reminding me that he's your best friend," Hermione cut in carefully. "There's no reason for you to keep this from him," she added, testing his limits, "unless, of course, there's something of your own that you're not telling him."
"Like what?" Theo demanded. "Are you wanting to accuse me of something, Granger? Because if you're going to question my loyalty to him - "
"I'm not," she said quickly. "I wouldn't," she insisted, "but - "
"Good," Theo snapped, turning his back on her and throwing the word bitterly over his shoulder as he turned to leave. "Don't."
"Theo," she blurted after him, fighting a groan of disappointment with her own blundering insensitivity. "Theo, I - I know, okay?" He paused then, skidding to a stop, and she let out a burdened sigh. "I just - I know, Theo."
She watched his shoulders tense, the line of his spine slowly going rigid as he processed what she'd said.
"Know what?" he snarled unexpectedly, whipping around to face her. "What is it you know, Granger, because from where I stand, you can't fucking know anything. Anything." He stopped, breathing hard. "Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Theo, I understand you perfectly," Hermione retorted, taking a step towards him. "In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm the only person who can understand, so don't just - "
"We are not the same, Granger!" Theo shouted, his eyes flashing as he stared at her. "Whatever you feel and whatever you think I might - whatever I - " he stumbled to a halt, shaking his head as his color rose in his cheeks. "We're not the same," he told her bluntly. "Don't pretend you know how I feel, okay? Don't fucking pretend, Hermione, because you can't possibly understand."
He turned around again, heading for the door, but then he stopped in the doorway, hesitating; Hermione stared silently at the degree of resignation in his posture and wondered what she could possibly say that wouldn't be met with fuck off, or you don't know me, or some other expected bite of his ill-humored wit.
"Just tell him," Luna whispered loudly, and Hermione sighed.
"Shut up," she muttered to Luna, and Theo turned slightly, startled. "Look," Hermione said, taking a step towards his back. "The first time I broke a blood ward, I made a vial of Draco's blood and broke into the vault at Malfoy Manor." She stopped, swallowing, and he didn't move. "I chose him on purpose."
Theo angled his chin over his shoulder; listening, but opting not to meet her eye. "Why?"
She grimaced, wishing she had an answer that had any logical merit.
"I've spent my life colliding with him," she offered tentatively. "Crashing into him against my will." She took another step, angling them so that if she'd chosen to reach out, she could have; but she stopped, holding her hands at her side. "Eventually you start to wonder if it's by design," she mused.
Inevitability, she heard, and punishment -
"So?" Theo asked gruffly. "What's your point?"
"So," she said slowly, "my point is that I know what it's like to circle him. To orbit him, and exist around him, and - " she held her breath, preparing herself to confess. "To want him," she clarified hoarsely, "but wish I didn't."
She watched Theo's chin drop, weighed down by a sudden understanding. They stood in silence for several moments, sharing the same dark places, before he took a slow, deep breath, clearing his lungs of the confession.
"I'll keep your secrets," Theo offered slowly, "if you keep mine."
She nodded, and he slipped away from the doorframe without pause.
Today
Cormac's apparation, guided by Daphne's instruction, took the three of them to the woods adjacent to the eastern corner of the Lestrange manor house, landing them just outside the aged stone wall of the estate. The wall itself was at least ten feet high and crumbling, worn by weather and centuries of decay, but Hermione could feel the pulsing of the protective enchantments, certain that behind the stone there was far more than met the eye.
Her hair, now dyed several shades darker courtesy of Pansy, fell distractingly into her eyes and she brushed it aside, taking a steadying breath as she turned expectantly to Daphne. It was Hermione's first time outside the walls of Draco's house for weeks, with several months before that since she'd last been out in the world; she found it strangely unnerving, though she imagined the air seemed crisper than she remembered, the smell of it twice as sweet.
"The blood will get us through most of the spellwork," Daphne offered, pressing her hand to the stone and looking up. "The only enchantment that was added was an extra barrier charm - the Dark Lord's design."
"What?" Cormac asked, frowning. "Barrier charm?"
"Think of it like inserting a key," Hermione explained. "Having the right blood puts the key in the lock, and the additional enchantment turns it."
"Right," Daphne confirmed, nodding. "Once we open the wards, though, any additional magic will be suspect, or could garner their attention - "
"So we'll have to find Ginny and get out without using any other spells," Hermione finished, and Daphne nodded again. "And you're sure that won't set anything off?" Hermione asked, gesturing to the monogrammed ring on Daphne's finger that they'd found amidst the items in Draco's house.
"The ring itself isn't cursed or anything," Daphne assured her. "I mean, it was probably used to poison someone in Draco's bloodline, I'm sure - "
"Definitely," Cormac agreed, making a face.
"But the ring itself doesn't have any blood enchantments, and the powdered Death-Cap that Pansy put inside it isn't going to trigger anything, so we're safe," Daphne said, and then grimaced. "Relatively speaking, that is."
"We've simplified it as much as we could have," Hermione reminded her. "Pansy said Mulciber, Lestrange, and You-Know-Who are all traveling. We just need to get in and get out with Ginny without attracting the attention of anyone else who might be there - "
"Including Ginny," Daphne said emphatically, and turned to Cormac. "Don't try to talk to her," she warned. "She won't recognize you."
Cormac's expression hardened. "Right."
"Okay," Hermione said. "Ready?"
"You're sure this will work?" Cormac asked, eyeing the drying spatter of blood on his wrist and turning a tinge green. "You're positive this is enough to break into the Dark Lord's house?"
"I'm sure it'll get us in," Hermione confirmed, battling her nerves. "It's getting out that I'm concerned about."
"Leave that to me," Daphne said firmly, stepping forward and pressing a hand to the stone, closing her eyes. She murmured a series of barely audible spells, shifting her fingers, and then there was a slight warp in the air around them; a vacancy large enough to slip through, and past it a darkly foreboding manor house that wavered in the distance. "Come on," Daphne urged, beckoning, and Hermione and Cormac followed her through the tear in the wards, setting foot in the startlingly bare gardens of the Lestrange Estate.
"What a lovely shithole," Cormac muttered, looking around at the yellowing decay. "Clearly his Lordship is quite the phenomenal topiarist."
"Shh," Hermione hissed, nudging past him to follow Daphne; the other witch had a surprisingly long stride for someone who wasn't much taller than she was. "How will we know where she is in the house?"
"Summoning spell?" Cormac suggested, and Daphne rolled her eyes.
"No magic," she reminded him briskly, flattening against the wall and waiting for the other two to do the same before checking through a small glass pane on an ornate wooden door. "Elves will be wandering the house," she warned, "and there are two ghosts, and the suits of armor are enchanted, too - "
"Great," Cormac muttered, rubbing his neck. "I already need a drink."
"Ginny likes windows, and heights," Hermione whispered. "She had a favorite spot in Gryffindor tower where she'd do her homework in the sun around this time of day."
"That's true," Cormac confirmed. "She told me once that's why she loves quidditch so much," he added. "Being closer to the sun makes her feel invincible."
Daphne hesitated, considering the insight. "She's not herself," she reminded them tentatively, but Hermione shrugged.
"She has to revert to something when nobody's telling her what to do," she said. "I'm just saying that if there's somewhere up high - a room inside one of those turrets, or something - "
"The aviary," Daphne realized, her eyes widening. "Yes, there's one."
"That sounds right," Hermione agreed. "How do we get there?"
Daphne paused, thinking. "There's a small stairway from this side," she said. "It shifts, like the stairs at Hogwarts, so watch out." She checked the pane of the door again, looking around. "Nobody's around. Be careful," she warned, and then pulled the door open, padding softly across the faded ornamental rugs of what looked to be a drawing room and leading them towards a staircase.
Hermione blinked, feeling temporarily unsteady as they crept up to the base of the staircase. Beside it, there was a narrow door that she was sure she had seen in a glimmer of memory; a flickering image of a gloved hand on the iron handle.
"Daphne," she whispered, reaching for her arm. "What's in there?"
Daphne turned, blanching as she saw what had caught Hermione's attention. "Another staircase," she murmured back. "I've never used it. It goes - " she hesitated. "It goes down under the house. I think they're - "
"Dungeons," Hermione realized, forcing a swallow as she pictured the windowless room, the light in the corner, the lines on the floor, Draco's voice - you've been in the old Lestrange manor house for six months -
"Don't think about it," Ginny whispered, tapping Hermione's shoulder and prompting her to jump in alarm. "You're busy, Hermione - remember?"
"Are you okay?" Cormac asked her, frowning, and Hermione tore her eyes away from the specter of Ginny beside her to look at him, nodding firmly.
"Yes," she said. "Sorry, I just - "
"You were kept there," Daphne realized, the color draining from her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Hermione, I had no idea - "
"It's fine," Hermione assured her, gesturing up the stairs and forcing herself not to look back. "Let's just get Ginny and get out."
Daphne forced a nod, taking a deep breath and aiming herself up the stairs.
"I think it's nice that you know where to find me," Ginny commented, toying with her ponytail as she spoke to Hermione. "You're risking quite a lot, you know."
I'm aware, Hermione thought with an inward sigh. Why didn't you tell me about Cormac?
"Perhaps I had my reasons," Ginny remarked, tilting her face up with a smile as a stray beam of light came in through a narrow windowed panel along the curved stairs. "You were always more Harry's friend than mine, anyway."
I thought you were sad about Harry, Hermione thought, frowning. Was it Cormac you were missing the whole time?
"Better pay attention, Hermione," Ginny cautioned, smiling faintly. "You know it's never been easy to get me to follow directions," she murmured, and Hermione felt a chill.
"Hey," Daphne whispered, coming to an abrupt halt. "Assuming the house didn't shift while we were on the stairs - "
"It does that?" Cormac asked, making a face. "Holy hell."
" - it'll be the second door on the right," Daphne said, tilting her head to indicate the narrow passage. "I'll drop the ring as close to her as I can, and then - "
"I'll apparate us out," Cormac confirmed.
"To the exact same place we entered," Daphne cautioned. "I opened the wards, and I'll have to close them before we go."
"Right," Cormac confirmed, fidgeting. "Well, let's go g- "
"Wait," Hermione hissed, thrusting an arm out as something glinted in the corridor. "Did you see that?"
Daphne leaned in, checking. "It's Felix," she whispered. "One of the ghosts. He'll be gone in a second," she added. "He's just looking for Wynona."
"Who?" Cormac asked, and Daphne rolled her eyes.
"Long story," she said. "But better Felix than Wynona, I assure you - he just swoops around moping. She actively tries to steal your soul."
"But ghosts can't do that," Hermione protested. "They're non-corporeal beings!"
"She's very persistent," Daphne sighed, "but it's not her fault. She was being haunted by evil spirits when she died." At Hermione's questioning glance, she shrugged. "Like I said. Long story." She leaned in, checking again. "Okay, he's gone."
Daphne led them in a quick sprint to the second doorway, pausing with her ear to the door. "There's someone in there," she mouthed, and Hermione nodded, holding her wand out.
"I'll cover you," Hermione assured her, and Daphne raised a hand, silently counting to three on her fingers and then nodding once before pushing the door open.
The small turreted room was empty except for a single wooden cage in the center, which stretched from the ceiling to the floor and appeared to have once held a menagerie of birds. The cage was filled with one large, lifeless tree in the center and a variety of smaller flora that had long ago wilted to the floor, a mess of dead insects and vermin scattering the bottom of the enclosure.
Through the iron mesh they could see the window on the other side, the light streaming in to fall against a single, glowing obstacle: a young woman, her long plaited hair a shade of crimson so familiar it made Hermione's chest contract in pain.
At the sound of their entry, the vacant shell of the real Ginny Weasley whipped around to face them, her brown eyes blank as she registered their presence in the room and raised her wand without hesitation.
"Avada Kedavra," she intoned expressionlessly, and Hermione lunged to the side, yanking Daphne to the floor as Cormac leapt in the opposite direction.
The curse shot through the mesh of the aviary cage and sizzled against the heavy wood of the door behind them as Hermione and Daphne frantically looked up, trying to locate Ginny's moving presence in the room. She had taken a few steps towards them, her wand still raised, and with a slow deliberation she met Hermione's eye with her own, tilting her head slightly and opening her mouth to mutter another spell.
"Expelliarmus," she said, casting Hermione's wand aside and kicking it out of reach before turning to Daphne, who promptly rolled out of the way of a blasting curse that bore through the old wooden panes of the floor. She landed on her side, panting, and Ginny took three rapid steps, raising her wand to hold it to Daphne's temple.
"Ginny," Cormac called breathlessly, leaping to his feet on the opposite side of the cage and drawing her attention, prompting her to pivot towards him. "Ginny, it's me, okay?"
"I hope he doesn't think that'll actually work," Daphne muttered as Ginny turned, struggling to her feet and then tossing Hermione's wand back to her. "I just need to get a little closer - "
"Ginny," Cormac continued, his hands outstretched, reaching for her. "I came for you," he supplied coaxingly. "Remember? I said I'd keep you safe - "
Ginny stared at Cormac with the same lack of recognition she'd given Hermione and raised her wand again, aiming it between his eyes. "Avada Kedavra - "
"Ginny," he repeated, his eyes wild as he darted behind the cage, just missing the curse as it ricocheted from the iron bolts. "It's me," he pleaded, "remember?"
"Daphne," Hermione whispered. "Now - "
Daphne dropped the ring on the floor beside Ginny's feet and leapt backwards, watching the tiny enameled compartment flip open to release a puff of pulverized Death-Cap extract into the air that wafted under Ginny's nose, prompting her to sneeze. Her wand arm faltered momentarily and then her entire body swayed once, wildly, before she promptly collapsed to the floor, her wand slipping out of her palm to roll towards Daphne's feet.
Cormac instantly leapt forward, reaching for her, but Daphne stopped him, bending to pick up Ginny's wand.
"Don't," Daphne warned him, pointing to the dust of powdered Death-Cap that hadn't yet settled. "We need you conscious."
He nodded, fidgeting, and Hermione glanced over her shoulder, hearing footsteps on the stairs.
"We should chance the apparation," Hermione warned Daphne, listening to the sound of someone coming closer and knowing with certainty that she didn't want to wait to find out who it was. "Even if it sets off the wards, we're leaving, so - "
"Use this," Daphne said, tossing Ginny's wand across the room to Cormac. "She's not on your little Snatcher map, is she?"
"No," Cormac confirmed, staring numbly at her wand in his hands. "I looked for her, but her wand isn't registered - "
"Good," Daphne said crisply. "Then that's the wand you should use to get us out of here."
"You want me to apparate four people out of this house with a wand that isn't fucking mine?" Cormac demanded, looking up to glare at her. "That's risky as fuck, and you know it - "
"All of this is risky," Daphne retorted. "But you want to save her, don't you?"
"Yes," Cormac snarled defensively, "but - "
"But nothing," Daphne said, stomping towards him. "You are what's magic, not the wand, so you'll fucking get us out of here because you have to. Now - " she whipped around, grabbing Hermione's wrist. "Let's go, McLaggen, before - "
They stopped as the handle of the door began to turn, heavy footfall landing outside the door.
"Go," Hermione hissed, and Daphne lunged down to take hold of Ginny's shoulder at the same moment Cormac took Ginny's hand, sucking them out of the room with a tangible slurp just as the door began to open.
Hermione landed on her back, winded, in the same place they'd initially landed outside the walls of the Lestrange Estate; she turned her head groggily, looking for Daphne, and let out a sigh of relief as Daphne struggled to her feet, snatching Ginny's wand from Cormac's hand and raising it to repair the vacancy she'd created in the wards.
Hermione turned, eyeing Cormac as he cradled Ginny in his arms. "Is she okay?" Hermione asked. "And are you?"
"I - I think so," Cormac said, dazed. He looked up, gesturing to a large rip in Daphne's blouse that matched one across the sleeve of Ginny's robes. "Not bad, really - just fabric, not skin or bone - "
Hermione felt her breath catch, swelling in her lungs, as she watched Daphne's tattooed phoenix rear up, flapping its wings twice across the blade of her shoulder. "Yeah," she murmured, feeling an unexpected surge of pride at the sight of it. "Not bad."
Daphne lowered her hands, staggering slightly. "Done," she said, shrugging exhaustion from her shoulders. "Let's go."
"Wait," Cormac said. "Should we - does she have tracking spells on her?" he asked tentatively. "Or, I don't know, anything that could lead him back to her?"
"There's the Imperius," Daphne reminded him, grimacing. "Once he notices she's gone, all he has to do is will her to come back."
"We'll break it," Cormac said with certainty. "But shouldn't we, I don't know, check - "
"We just have to get her to Draco's house," Hermione cut in. "He couldn't follow even if he wanted to - the blood wards there can't be altered - "
"Revelio," Daphne attempted, aiming her wand at Ginny's chest. The spell seeped in, and they waited, but there were no changes. "Hermione's right," she ruled, satisfied. "We have to get her back and deal with the rest there." She took a step forward to crouch gingerly beside Hermione, forming a tight circle around Ginny's unmoving body. "Are you ready?" she asked Cormac, making an attempt to be sympathetic. "Do you need to rest first?"
He took a deep breath, shaking his head. "No," he said, swallowing. "I need to get her safe."
Daphne nodded, pleased, and Hermione reached out, looping one arm through hers and then placing the other on Cormac's shoulder. "We'll work out the curse later," Hermione promised him. "Just - just get us home, okay?"
He nodded slowly, taking his own wand in hand and apparating them back to Palace Gardens Terrace, landing them steadily - far more steadily than the last time - on the pavement as Hermione cast a disillusionment spell around them, blocking them from view.
"In there," she said, pointing to the mailbox, and Cormac charmed it open, taking hold of the small ivory brooch inside and transporting them to Draco's front door.
Daphne knocked once, loudly, and Paul the house elf materialized in the doorway, his ears drooping limply as he noticed it wasn't Pansy's heralded return. "Oh," he squeaked in disappointment, gesturing them inside. "Miss Daphne is kicking life?"
"Do you mean alive and kicking?" Daphne asked, and the elf shrugged something that appeared to be affirmation as he led them down the corridor, skirting the sitting room's fireplace. "Yes, actually," she confirmed, and glanced back at Hermione as they stepped through a doorway to a brightly lit room, the walls of which were encased - magically, Hermione assumed - with glass. "This room," Daphne commented with a frown, gesturing around them. "Was it here before?"
"This is new," Hermione sighed, shaking her head as she looked around the brightness of the small octagonal solarium. "But at least there's space," she added, gesturing around them. Cormac, following behind them, carried Ginny over to a narrow chaise in the corner, setting her down with a gentleness so reverent that Hermione couldn't help but wonder how he could be the same boy she'd once known.
Cormac reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Ginny's ear and staring at her, seeming to absorb the features of her face; he looked as though he wished to breathe her in, experience her anew. He let out a long, hard-fought breath, and Hermione stepped forward, tentatively resting her hand on his shoulder.
"What's it like?" she asked. "Seeing her again."
Beneath her hand, his posture slowly relaxed. "Like waking up from a nightmare," he confessed, not taking his eyes from Ginny's face, and Hermione nodded, letting her hand slip from his shoulder as she moved back towards Daphne, catching the other woman's hazel eyes and finding, somewhere, the ability to conjure the faintest half-smile.
"We did it," she murmured, and Daphne nodded.
"We did," she agreed, and they stood in silence a moment, letting the realization dawn. It was hard, knowing what they knew, not to each bathe in their respective fields of guilt - the way they'd each felt themselves a piece of the suffering by the broken redheaded witch who lay unconscious on the chaise.
It was Cormac who broke the silence, the sound of his forced swallow seeming to echo around the room.
"Is it just me," Cormac muttered uneasily, "or was that too easy?"
Beside him, Ginny stirred, her eyelashes fluttering.
"Oh, that was only the beginning," Luna remarked, leaning forward to laugh in Hermione's ear. "I think the real fun happens next, don't you?"
Yesterday
"Tah-dah," Pansy declared, tearing the towel from Hermione's hair and gesturing to the newly silky curls, dyed so dark they rivaled Pansy's own raven twist. "Behold - my magnum opus, my pièce de résistance - "
"Stop talking," Draco commanded instantly, feeling his eyes widen as he stepped towards Hermione, taking her in. "It's not going to stay like this for long," he ventured tentatively, "is it?"
Hermione offered him a weary smile. "Hate it, do you?"
"I just like you better as you," he said with a frown, reaching out to take one of her curls in hand. "It is very soft, though."
"Yes, well, that won't last," Pansy sniffed. "It's a temporary conditioning charm, and more hair potion than I care to admit to even owning. But the color enchantment will stay for a bit, which is probably best," she clarified. "Better safe than sorry, I think, in case she's spotted by anyone who might recognize her."
"Which I don't think anyone would," Hermione reminded both of them, holding up a small silver hand mirror to eye Pansy's handiwork, "considering they didn't before. But it does look nice," she admitted, her cheeks slightly flushed. "You have a knack for beauty charms, Pansy."
"Of course she does," Potter remarked, peeking his head in the doorway. "Just imagine what she actually looks like under there," he added, gesturing to Pansy's face and ducking as she threw the towel she'd been holding where his head had been.
"Potter," she shouted, stomping after him. "Get back here - "
"He's there, grab him!" Daphne exclaimed from down the hall, the sound of laughter rising to a shriek and then promptly fading as Pansy must have chased them both down the stairs.
"Animals, the lot of them," Draco sighed, and Hermione looked up, shaking her head in amusement.
"Isn't it amazing?" she remarked fondly. "How easily it comes back to us."
"What does?" he asked, pulling her up to take her in his arms.
She smiled radiantly. "Joy," she murmured, and he tilted her chin up, brushing his lips across hers.
"Hey," Potter said breathlessly, appearing in the doorway and making a face as Draco and Hermione jumped apart. "Where's Nott?"
"Grabbing some clothes from his house," Draco supplied, rolling his eyes. "Which is the same answer I gave you twenty goddamn minutes ago, you unbearable swine - "
"When are we going?" Potter demanded. "I thought you might manage a sense of urgency, Malfoy, but clearly I aimed much too high - "
"We can't go until Cormac's able to get away from wherever he's stationed," Hermione reminded him, adopting the very patient cadence that Draco noticed she often used with Potter. "And as another point of relevance, it really wouldn't do you much good to show up at Hogwarts in the middle of the night, would it?"
"I don't care," Potter said crossly. "You have to get Ginny, and I have to find Luna - "
"Which we'll do," Draco trumpeted impatiently, "if you can just manage to sit down for five fucking minutes - "
"I need a distraction," Potter sighed. "I hate waiting."
"That's true," Hermione somberly informed Draco. "He's stupendously horrible at it."
"Run through the plan again with Pansy, then," Draco suggested impatiently, gesturing downstairs. "She'll apparate us to Hogsmeade and wait for a signal," he prompted, "and then you'll get Theo and me through the castle with your, whatever, maudlin map - "
"Marauder's map," Potter corrected, and then grinned, looking smugly satisfied. "Look at you, Malfoy," he commented, "you're finally settling into your role as the leader of the Order - "
"I AM NOT - " Draco bellowed, but was promptly cut off by Hermione's hand nudging itself delicately against his mouth, capturing the words between her fingers.
"Harry," she ventured brightly, "could you give us a minute?"
Potter made a face. "Fine," he said stubbornly. "But only out of respect for the new Order," he added irreverently, leaping away as Draco pulled out his wand in warning, pointing it at his rapidly retreating form.
"Put that down," Hermione sighed, lazily batting Draco's wand from his hand. "You're not going to run around cursing Harry, are you?"
"Not unless he asks for it," Draco muttered. "Which he is - "
She cut him off with a kiss, her fingers making their way from his shoulders to the back of his neck and then cupping the base of his scalp, digging in as she rose up on her toes. "Hush," she said, and he obliged, his breath suspended at her touch.
"You're sure," he whispered against her lips, closing his eyes as he gave in again to unrelenting worry. "You're certain you can get past the wards?"
"I've done it many times before, including to your house," she reminded him. "And frankly," she added, frowning slightly, "even if I had doubts, Daphne's certain enough for all of us."
"She is, isn't she," Draco remarked, shaking his head. "You've converted her to your little cult of heroism, haven't you?"
"She's no quicker a study than you," Hermione teased, and Draco grimaced, thinking of the matter he and Pansy had already discussed.
"I wouldn't jump to conclusions about that, Granger," he told her. "We'll see if I follow through on my promises before we foolishly dub me any kind of hero, okay?"
"You are, though," she assured him, digging her fingers into his hips. "And Theo is," she added, looking thoughtful.
"He might be," Draco agreed. "He certainly takes to it more willingly."
"You'll get there," she assured him, and he sighed.
"I just don't understand what I've done to deserve my house being made a menagerie of idiocy," he grumbled, and she shook her head, tutting softly as she pulled him closer. "And to think you wanted me to fix Potter," he lamented into the top of her head, "as if he weren't his usual twatting self - "
Hermione leaned away, her brow furrowed. "You don't actually think this is Harry in proper working order, do you?"
Draco shrugged. "If it looks like a duck - "
"He's reckless," Hermione cut in, frowning. "He's a constant explosion, he's careless with his own life - he's too agitated to sit down, to even feel loss - "
"And this is new?" Draco asked, and Hermione sighed.
"Maybe not," she admitted. "There was always a little bit of inequity after Ron - " she trailed off, grimacing, and Draco hid a swallow of guilt. "Harry was just never really the same," she finished, looking saddened. "I think that after Ron was gone, a piece of what kept him balanced was gone, too."
"Well, if you want me to be Weasley, I think you've tickled the wrong sleeping dragon," Draco informed her, and despite her obvious attempt to maintain a straight face, she laughed.
"No, I don't want that," she agreed. "I just - "
She paused, something settling apprehensively on her tongue, and he pulled her close again, tucking her cheek against his chest.
"Go ahead," he said, feigning exasperation. "Tell me a story."
He felt her smile into his shirt, warming him completely.
"Once upon a time there was a prince," she murmured, and he nodded against her curls, resigning himself to listen. "He was a hunter, born and bred to kill, but found within himself a spark of something more - desiring, in some way, to draw from a well of mercy instead of a quiver of arrows."
"One day, when he had gone some way through a thick, dark forest, he came across a wolf who was alone, caught within a hunter's trap. The prince took aim, fearing for his life, but then the wolf spoke, beseeching him: do not shoot me, and I will be a faithful friend to you. The prince, feeling sorry for the wolf, and not wishing to see her unmade by a hunter's trap, set her free, and the wolf followed him, keeping her promise."
"Soon after he came upon a lion, wild and untamed, and he, too, begged the prince not to shoot, promising him fealty in return for the prince's compassion, and a pledge of bravery for his benevolence. So the prince went on his way, and the lion followed; and so this happened again, with a fox, a hare, a boar, and a bear, until the prince had quite a troupe of beasts that followed faithfully behind him."
"Once they had made it through the forest, the prince, being a solitary man, bid his beasts farewell, thanking them for their companionship, and they parted ways; but as it happened, upon leaving the forest, the prince came across the series of hunters whose traps had been lain in the woods, and they, being less worthy men than he, did not hesitate to slit his throat, leaving him dead on the roadside."
"Grim," Draco pronounced glumly, and Hermione leaned back to hold a finger to his lips, smiling.
"The faithful beasts, feeling in their bones the loss of the merciful prince, came to his body and wept, wondering what they should do. The wolf, who had loved the prince first, knew some secrets of magic, and so she called to the lion, who spoke to the fox, and on and on until they had reached the ear of the phoenix, who heard their mournful pleas. The phoenix, being a bird of healing, flew down to rest upon the chest of the prince."
"Magic has give and take," Hermione continued softly, "but because the prince had once given, so then the beasts gave; they bade the magic to take from them, because the prince had once been loyal, and they could only do the same for him. Then, once the phoenix had shed three tears upon his wound - one each for healing, swiftness, and strength - the prince took a gasping breath, and he was healed, and so he rose to life again, surrounded by his friends."
She looked up expectantly, and Draco frowned.
"So, what you're saying," Draco postulated slowly, "is that I should be nice to Potter in case someone slits my throat someday?"
"I'm saying," Hermione corrected, shaking her head, "that if you're loyal to him, he will repay the favor - and maybe," she added, "hopefully not in a throat-slitting situation, of course - that loyalty will have been worth the moments you had to bite your tongue."
Draco exhaled heavily. "That's quite a statement," he informed her, and she smiled, running her fingers carefully over the bruises on his cheek.
"You're quite a prince," she promised, warming him with the rays of her smile, "and when we've both make it back here tomorrow, you'll see that I was right."
Today
"Listen," Blaise interrupted, arching a brow. "If I knew what alleged portkey you were talking about - "
"Which you do," Theo muttered.
" - and if I had ever smuggled anyone through it - "
"Which you did," Draco grumbled.
" - why, exactly, would I share that information with you?"
"Say, for purposes of argument, that we've gone horribly rogue," Draco proposed, grimacing at where he knew Potter was standing beneath the cloak and leaning against Blaise's desk. "Would that change your mind?"
"It would certainly comfort it," Blaise permitted airily. "Is this why you needed me to cover for you when you missed your last portkey, then?" he asked. "One of your rogue missions?"
"Yes," Theo confirmed flatly. "The least rogue, really, now that everything's gone approximately to shit."
"Still," Blaise sighed, "I'm going to need some good faith here, gents." He leaned back in his seat, beckoning. "I want to believe you, of course - "
"Of course you do," Draco heard Potter scoff under his breath.
" - but it's hardly that simple," Blaise continued. "If I were actually doing any of the things you suspect, I'd be balls deep in an enormous vat of fucked, don't you think?"
"We know the feeling," Theo replied drily, and Draco nodded.
"I'll take veritaserum, if you want," Draco offered, and Theo glanced up, startled, but Draco only shrugged. "Just one drop. Enough for five minutes. Enough," he clarified, "for you to know you can trust us."
Blaise cocked his head, considering the offer. "Fine," he agreed, shifting towards his desk. Draco caught a slight shuffling of parchment rolls as Potter quickly dodged out of the way, moving elsewhere in the room as Blaise searched his desk drawer. He drew out a small vial, holding it out for Draco. "One drop."
Draco nodded, glancing at Theo; the other man's mouth was set in a grim line, but he nodded once, his hand on his wand in muted precaution.
"Okay," Draco said, removing the dropper from the elixir and tilting his head back, dripping it onto his tongue. He shuddered as the liquid went down, feeling the gears slow in his head as everything else seemed to grow faint and fuzzy, Blaise's face swimming before him.
"Is this a trap?" Blaise asked quietly.
"No," Draco heard himself reply, surprised that he had spoken. The word seemed to have slipped from his lips without his mind's approval.
"Were you asked to come here by the Dark Lord, or another Death Eater?"
"No."
"Have you been in contact with any Snatchers?"
"Yes."
"Any who'd cause me harm?"
"No."
"Were you instructed by someone to find me, or anything I traffic in?"
"Yes."
From the corner of his eye, Draco saw Theo twitch forward. "It's not what you think, Blaise," Theo inserted hastily, and Blaise frowned, focusing on Draco.
"What do they want from me?"
"To know where someone went," Draco answered.
"Why?"
"To find them."
"Who?"
"Luna Lovegood."
Blaise took a step back, reeling. "Who asked fo- "
"You're getting off track," Theo interrupted, clearly trying to avoid mention of Potter. "You had questions about our loyalty, so ask."
Blaise sighed. "Do you intend me any harm?"
"No," Draco said.
Blaise jerked his chin at Theo. "Does he?"
"No."
"Do you wish me to get caught?"
"No."
"Do you oppose what I'm doing?"
"I don't know for sure what you're doing. But no."
"Why did you come here?"
"To find out if the portkeys to other schools are real."
Blaise turned to Theo, surprised. "Other schools?"
Theo arched a brow. "The portkey part you don't take issue with?"
Blaise hesitated. "I just meant - "
"So the portkey's real, then," Theo deduced triumphantly, and then shook his head. "But you don't know where it goes?"
"Hey," Blaise snapped. "I thought I was conducting this interrogation?"
"You're not," Draco informed him, blinking, and Blaise turned to shake his head, groaning.
"Who gave you any reason to suspect me?"
"I knew," Draco replied. "I saw your scars. I know you're unhappy, I know you're angry, and I knew it had to be you."
"That answer is too nuanced," Blaise muttered, grabbing the vial from Draco's hand. "It's wearing off."
"It's still true," Draco replied. "I knew it was you."
"Why didn't you say anything before?"
"I didn't know before."
"But you hinted at something."
Draco shrugged. "Thought you were fucking Warrington."
"I am," Blaise replied, "but that's more a matter of convenience."
"I don't care. The world's shit. Fuck whoever you want."
"Okay, now it's definitely gone," Blaise sighed, walking back to his desk and tucking the vial away in a drawer. "Though I think I've heard enough."
"The portkey," Theo reminded him, lurching to his feet. "What is it?"
"It's less a portkey than a portal," Blaise informed them, as Draco suddenly forced back an odd aftertaste, the sour flavor of uninhibited truth.
"Okay," Draco muttered, wanting to scour his tongue. "Where is it, then?"
"The door to the Room of Requirement leads there," Blaise said. "I don't know where it goes. It doesn't appear for me alone," he added, shaking his head. "It showed up the first time when Lovegood came looking for me."
"I thought you said that room was fucking barbecued," Theo said with a frown, casting a glance at Draco. "What do you mean the door leads there?"
"And how did Lovegood find you?" Draco pressed.
Blaise held up a hand, pausing them. "One thing at a time," he sighed, shifting towards one of his potion cupboards. Draco caught a glimpse of something flickering in the air as he moved, realizing Potter had been standing there. "Cassius has a Snatcher connection," Blaise said, pressing his hand to the door of the cupboard as the protective enchantments beneath it yielded, clicking like the latches of a series of locks. "Flint, remember? Quidditch players make the best Snatchers, or so they say. Something about being good at following orders, I assume."
"Okay," Draco said, leaning forward to eye the collection of materials in the cabinet. "What's in there?"
"Things," Blaise said flatly, gesturing inside. "Nothing important. A lot of letters," he offered. "People trade valuables for us to help them communicate with loved ones. I don't keep them for long."
"And I take it Lovegood heard you were doing this," Theo guessed, and Blaise nodded.
"She showed up in the castle one day. Fucking wand to my throat and everything, like some kind of manic pirate fairy," Blaise added, shaking his head. "She told me they'd used the Room of Requirement during our seventh year, but that it wasn't working for her anymore." Draco and Theo exchanged a glance, remembering the classmates who'd disappeared throughout the year. "I went up there with her, and then, for the first time, the door showed up unscathed."
"What's behind it?" Draco asked. "A portal, you said?"
"The door opens to a very small room," Blaise explained, "with about enough standing room for four or five people, and an empty frame. When I took Lovegood, the frame filled with a painting, and she stepped through it. I tried to follow," he added, "but by the time she had walked through, the painting had gone."
"What's it a painting of?"
"It's a landscape," Blaise supplied. "Nothing special. I never get a very good look at it," he added glumly, "since it never lets me pass through."
"You've done this multiple times?" Theo asked bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest. "For how many people?"
Blaise shrugged. "Maybe half a dozen?" he guessed. "Lovegood must have sent them to me."
"Does it work both ways?" Draco asked, frowning, and Blaise shook his head.
"No," he supplied. "Obviously the castle produced an exit, but not an entrance. Which makes sense," Blaise added, suddenly slamming the cupboard door shut and stopping as it hit an invisible obstacle with a loud, crunching smack, prompting him to pause with a look of surprise. "What was - "
He shut the door again, easily this time, and Draco smirked at Theo, figuring Potter had finally taken the hit to the face he'd long deserved. "Anyway," Blaise continued, stepping back towards them. "I don't think I can help much. I don't know where they go after they leave here, I just - "
He broke off sharply as the door suddenly opened behind them, revealing Amycus Carrow in its frame as Theo and Draco whipped around.
"Zabini," Amycus said slowly, taking a few steps into the room. "I thought I heard voices."
"Carrow," Draco offered as calmly as possible, angling himself towards him and trying to hide his panicked breath. "We just stopped by for a visit."
Amycus' eyes narrowed. "Did you," he mused coldly, his gaze flitting over the lingering cuts and bruising on Draco's face. "Seems like with the rate unfortunate things are happening to you, Malfoy, you should probably just stay home."
"Tried that," Theo interrupted, with his affectatious drawl. "But you know how insatiably social Draco is."
"I know precisely how Malfoy is," Amycus commented humorlessly in agreement, crossing his arms over his chest as he scoured the scene from afar. "You forget, boys, that I'm in charge of keeping an eye out for behaviors. I'm tasked by the Dark Lord himself, not only for identifying skill and potential," he said airily, "but also for making note of inadequacy."
"Yes," Theo confirmed brightly. "You're certainly an expert in the field of inadequacy."
Draco glared warningly at him, but Amycus only smirked. "I recall your reticence, you know," he said slowly, glancing between them. "If the Dark Lord had asked me then, I'd have advised against giving either of you the Mark - but then, you were both so thoroughly devoid of use for so many years that I very nearly forgot about you. But with recent events," he offered, the corners of his lips twitching with mirth, "perhaps certain qualities of yours are beginning to come to light."
"They were just visiting," Blaise offered neutrally. "We're old friends, Amycus, as I'm sure you know."
"Yes, yes, I recall," Amycus agreed, his eyes traveling from where Blaise was standing to the floor just beneath him, the older Death Eater's brows knitting together as he seemed to catch sight of something. "Very good friends," Amycus murmured suspiciously, his voice trailing off as he leaned forward, squinting at something on the floor.
Draco followed his gaze and instantly went rigid at the sight of a few drops of blood, a small pool of it where Blaise had slammed the cupboard door into Potter's face and then a thin trail that lead a few feet away, near where Theo was standing. Theo, catching the subtle arc of Draco's scrutiny, met Draco's eye with a widened stare of panic.
"You know," Amycus remarked, sounding entirely too delighted. "For quite a while there, the two of you were very nearly . . . invisible, wouldn't you say?"
Draco watched with horror as Amycus' dark eyes flicked almost imperceptibly to where Potter must have been standing, the Death Eater's fingers twitching as he carefully reached inside his robes.
"I suppose," Draco offered unsteadily. "Metaphorically, that is, though naturally I now regret that you would think so."
Amycus shifted, giving him a small smile. "I see," he remarked, and Theo, who had been eyeing Amycus' concealed hand, seemed to involuntarily lurch forward, jerkily thrusting an arm out just as Amycus drew a thin silver knife from his pocket and - with a speed Draco had not known he possessed - suddenly threw the blade of it, aiming directly into the span of air where the faint blood trail had led.
"Whoops," Theo declared impishly, presumably shoving Potter aside as the blade of the knife just managed to nick his forearm, slicing effortlessly through his sleeve before lodging in the wall behind them. "Looks as though your knife slipped, there, Amycus - "
Amycus' eyes narrowed suspiciously, but as Theo glanced down, shifting his sleeve to cover the slow trickle of blood from the narrow cut, his lips curled up in an unreadable smile.
"Quite," Amycus agreed, walking over to Theo and shoving him out of the way to pull his knife out of the wall, tucking it back into the inner lining of his robes. "Well," he murmured, glancing over at Theo and eyeing the cut on his sleeve, "I suppose it is natural to be a bit . . . clumsy, from time to time," he permitted ambiguously.
"We should go," Draco announced uncomfortably, finding the moment incalculably bizarre. "I'm sure your potionmaster has quite a lot of work to do, Amycus - "
"I'm sure he does," Amycus agreed coolly, flashing Theo a saccharine smile before promptly striding to the door, pausing with his palm on the handle. "Oh, and between friends? I'd advise you to watch yourselves, gentlemen," he warned, his smile fading to a grimace as he moved to exit. "You're not invisible anymore."
As he passed through the door, Theo let out a hiss of pain, flexing his fingers as he eyed the cut on his forearm. "Fuck," he muttered. "That knife is sharp."
"What just happened?" Blaise demanded, glancing between them with confusion. "What did he just - "
"Look, if you can do something to fuck with his memory, I promise I will owe you a favor in return," Draco told him quickly. "Just - trust me," he said emphatically, "we need to make sure he doesn't remember that."
"I can try," Blaise said, chewing his lip thoughtfully. "He is very predictable, and the fae spores I picked up last week do have some very subtle memory modification qualities - "
"I'd appreciate it," Draco said, grabbing Theo's spare arm. "Listen, we should go check out the portkey upstairs - "
"Should I come?" Blaise asked, frowning, but Draco shook his head.
"I know how the room works," he assured him. "Even if it's different, I think I've got it covered, and we need to get out of your hair."
Theo blinked, wrapping his hand around his arm and nodding vacantly. "Better that you get to Amycus," he agreed, and then offered Blaise his usual knavish smirk. "Zabini forever, as they say."
Blaise rolled his eyes. "You're both a lot more trouble than you're worth, you know," he said, shoving open his desk drawer and pulling out a small jar that he carefully tucked in his pocket. "But if you think it's important - "
"It is," Draco assured him, feeling around beside him until he'd grabbed onto Potter's elbow with one hand, yanking him forward, and then used his other hand to pull a somewhat dazed Theo along behind him. "Really, Blaise, it is - "
"Good luck," Blaise called after them, looking as though he very much suspected they'd need it.
"Thanks," Draco muttered thoughtlessly, and then paused, turning back towards him. "Blaise," Draco called, meeting his eye. "I'm sorry I didn't do something sooner."
Blaise smiled wanly. "Go," he said, waving a hand, and Draco nodded, hustling forward with Theo on one arm and Potter stumbling after them under the cloak.
"Did you not notice you were bleeding?" Draco hissed to Potter, sparing a glare at where he assumed the other man was. "Fucking hell - "
"My nose," Potter snapped under his breath. "I think Zabini fucking broke it."
"Episkey," Theo said weakly, and Draco glanced at him in confusion, frowning.
"Okay then," Draco muttered, arriving at the seventh floor and performing his usual ritual, pacing in front of the wall. "Okay, we need that portal - we need to get to Lovegood - "
After three rounds of pacing the door appeared; a different door, Draco noted, frowning at the way it so closely resembled the Durmstrang ship as he remembered it from fourth year, but he quickly pushed it open, dragging Potter and an absurdly slow-moving Theo behind him.
"Here," Draco said, eyeing the portrait after sealing the door shut behind him. "Look, the landscape - "
"It's probably a portrait of exactly where the portal leads," Potter remarked, removing the hood from his cloak to reveal that he'd likely been correct - Blaise had broken his nose with the impact of the cupboard door. "Come on," he urged, stepping through it, and Draco sighed, pulling a listless Theo along behind him.
"What's with you?" he muttered in Theo's ear, but as Theo forced out an incoherent response, Draco was distracted by the rarity of Potter being correct twice in a row; they had stepped into a wooded area that looked precisely as the landscape painting had, with coastal conifers that circled a hard-packed clearing lined with a mossy-looking grass.
"We're near the water," Potter pointed out, listening for the sounds of it. "Explains why they took a boat, really, if we're actually where you think we are - "
"Potter, come here," Draco beckoned, calling him back and aiming his wand as he turned. "Episkey."
"Ouch, fuck," Potter swore, doubling over as his nose promptly knocked back into place. "What was that for?"
"I was fixing it, you insufferable shit," Draco reminded him. "Or do you want to stumble across Lovegood with your nose completely askew?"
"Eh, she's seen worse," Potter said, pivoting to make his way through the clearing as Draco turned, gesturing impatiently for Theo to follow.
"Theo," he beckoned, glancing over his shoulder. "Are you com- "
He stopped, startled, as he caught sight of Theo's face, his skin pale and bloodless as he stumbled forward, trying to follow. "Theo, what the fuck?"
Theo staggered slightly, blinking to clear his vision. "Draco," he managed with difficulty, the name emerging in a slur. "Draco, my - my arm - "
"What is it?" Draco asked, launching forward to catch him as Theo suddenly pitched sideways, his knees buckling beneath him. "Potter," Draco yelled, calling to where the other wizard had wandered forward into the clearing. "Come here - "
"What happened?" Potter asked, taking a few quick strides to reach them and watching as Theo's head swung forward wildly, momentum drawing him down until Draco was supporting the entirety of his weight, straining to throw one of Theo's arms over his neck. "Is he - "
Potter stopped, choking on startled recognition, and then closed the distance between them to grab Theo's arm, his eyes widening as he looked at the cut from Amycus' knife. "Fucking hell," Potter gasped, tearing open Theo's sleeve and holding the arm up for Draco to see. "The wound is fucking - it's dying, Malfoy - "
Draco felt the blood drain from his face as he looked at the unrecognizable flesh that had only minutes ago been the neatly muscled line of Theo's forearm, the area around the cut spreading with a spidery flush of decay; the wound was clearly infected, rotting from the inside out and spreading through the webs of Theo's veins until the blood beneath his pale skin had turned a sickening shade of black. "What - " Draco began vacantly, not sure he could believe what he was seeing. "What is - how - "
"Nott," Potter said loudly, frowning as he reached up to shake Theo by the shoulders. "Nott, stay with us - "
Draco felt his own pulse slow, morphing to a dull roar; and then, violently, it raced.
"Is," Draco began, fighting for his voice, "is he conscious?"
"No," Potter said, frowning as he slapped Theo's cheeks, trying to jar him awake. "He's - he's barely fucking breathing, Malfoy - "
"We have to go back," Draco said suddenly, shifting Theo under his arm and then collapsing with him on the ground, scrambling to kneel over the slow fall of his chest. "The knife must have been poisoned, or cursed," Draco muttered, eyeing the wound with a mix of blinding terror and putrefying revulsion. "We have to get Blaise," Draco ranted, "he'll have an antidote, he has to - "
"We can't," Potter reminded him gruffly, his cheeks colorless as he dropped to his knees beside Theo. "You heard Blaise, Malfoy, the portal only works one way, and it's gone now - "
"We have to do something," Draco returned blankly, feeling Theo's breath start to falter beneath him. "He's - he's not breathing, Potter, we have to - "
"I - I don't know," Potter stammered. "If I were Hermione, maybe I'd - I could, but this - I - "
"WE HAVE TO DO SOMETHING," Draco suddenly erupted, scrambling for his wand. "Tergeo," he muttered desperately, pointing it at Theo's forearm; nothing. "Vulnera Sanentur - Confervo - "
"Not working," Potter said, shaking his head. "Malfoy, it's not - it's not working - "
"It has to work," Draco half-shouted, running through every healing spell he could think of. "It fucking has to, Potter, this is - " He looked up, fighting the burn that had lodged in his throat, stabbing the backs of his eyes. "This is Theo," he choked out, struggling for breath. "Potter, it's Theo, he can't - " he looked back down, his hands starting to shake as he watched Theo's face gradually drain of color. "Something has to fucking work, Potter - Potter, please, I owe him my fucking life - "
Magic has give and take, he heard Hermione say, her voice a solemn whisper in his mind.
Potter leaned forward, pressing his ear to Theo's chest. "He's not breathing," Potter muttered hoarsely, shaking his head as he shifted to press his fingers to Theo's neck, feeling for a pulse. "He's not breathing, Draco, his heart's not beating - "
Magic has give and take -
"No," Draco retorted flatly, the thought seeming impossible even as he himself could feel the telling signs of his best friend dissolving beneath him, the irreverent grin long gone from his lips. "No, that's - that can't - no, Potter, you're wrong, you - you're not a healer - "
"I'm not wrong, Malfoy, I'm not fucking wrong," Potter returned maniacally, checking his pockets. "I - there has to be something, we have to - "
Potter's gaze abruptly sharpened, his hand closing around something; he reached into his pocket, pulling out the vitae dagger and then roughly shoving Draco aside.
"Potter," Draco shouted hysterically, "the last thing we need is more motherfucking knives - "
"He's already dead, Malfoy," Potter snarled at him, slicing a line into his own palm. "What he needs," he hissed, grabbing Theo's injured arm, "is life."
Magic has give and take -
"Potter," Draco shouted frantically, reaching for his shoulder. "Potter, what the fuck are you doing?"
The other man ignored him, shoving Draco's hand away and pressing the cut on his palm to the gaping slice in Theo's arm. Draco, horrified, stared at him, and saw for the first time that there was something iridescent in the other man's hand; a metallic liquid that had poured out - melting, like molten gold, into Theo, the black tunnels of his poisoned veins lapping it up like honey.
Potter was saying something; Draco tore his gaze away, focusing on the dark haired wizard's face.
"Come on," Potter was saying through his teeth, repeating it over and over as he pressed the knife wound on his palm to Theo's arm. "Come on - Nott, you fucker, wake up - "
"Potter," Draco gasped desperately, watching with horror as darkened shadows began to form around his green eyes. Shadows sank into his cheeks, making a mockery of his youth, as pale streaks sprouted in his ebony hair. "Potter - Harry, you have to stop - "
Magic has give and take -
"Harry," Draco shouted, grabbing him. "If you give him any more, you're going to fucking die - "
He jerked Potter away forcefully and they both collapsed, panting, falling onto their backs from momentum; Draco took his hand hurriedly, cleaning and sealing the wound, and as Potter's palm slowly stitched itself over the transformation of his face finally stilled, the lingering shadow of the knife's damage glittering along a seam that gradually disappeared.
They both stared, panting, as Potter drew a hand to his cheek, feeling the peppered stubble that had sprouted there; and then there was a twitch of motion from Theo and they both turned, holding their breaths.
From a few feet away, Theo suddenly gasped, his chest filling with a sharp, brusque force that launched him forward, propelling him forth and then sending him reeling, like he'd been dragged up by a string.
"What happened," Theo rasped without hesitation, his fingers white where they pressed into his own injured arm; Draco could see that the only remaining evidence of the poisoned knife was a jagged black line, like a lightning bolt across his arm. "I was - it was dark, and then - "
He broke off, catching sight of the knife that had fallen to the clearing floor - the edge of it still dripping with whatever it had stolen from Potter - and his eyes widened, slowly shifting to focus on Potter's face.
"Did you - " Theo asked hoarsely, staring at him. "How - why did you - "
He faltered, and then fell silent.
"How much did you give me?" Theo croaked eventually, and Potter shook his head, uncertain.
Draco wordlessly tore his gaze away from Theo to take in the state of Potter's damage, unsure what to expect. The other man had clearly aged several years in a matter of minutes; his hair was marked now by narrow streaks of silver, flecks of it dusting the sides of his temples where there had once been a solid pitch of black. His mouth, once lined with youthful mischief, now bore deepened crevices on either side, the lines of his cheek more sharply angled, the shadows a little darker under his eyes - and his scar, Draco noted, was more pronounced than ever, a chilling echo of a past that couldn't be hidden.
Magic has give and take -
"At least ten years," Draco forced out in answer, choking on a combination of awe and disbelief; on a breath that was splintered, torn between laughter and sobs.
Magic has give and take -
Magic gives, and it takes, and it takes, and it takes -
"Harry," they heard a voice say tentatively. "Is that you?"
Magic takes, but we always fucking rise.
a/n: Story inspiration from The Three Princes and their Beasts, a Lithuanian fairy tale from The Violet Fairy Book compiled by Andrew Lang, and dedicated to VictoriaSwan (for the feels). Hoping for updates to pick up (should the muse cooperate) to take us through the next series of big events.
PS - left a little trinket for those of you who read the most recent Amortentia one shot; hope you enjoyed . . .