I might start to sound like a broken record, but MysticDew has made a huge contribution to this story – thank you!
I've also managed to acquire a second beta – thanks also to orlando switch! Being shameless really paid off this time...
Chapter title borrowed from a song by Death Cab for Cutie.
Chapter 28
Follow You Into The Dark
-oOo-
11AM, the 1st of October 2009 – Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Hogsmeade, Scotland
After dutifully putting it into her diary, Hermione didn't spare the appointment she had set up with Mrs Shunpike another thought for quite some time. She did wonder briefly whether the woman was related to the hapless Stan Shunpike; surely the name couldn't be that common?
Hermione was quite used to being contacted by wizards and witches she never had heard from before, who found themselves at their wits end butting heads with the Ministry. An encyclopaedic knowledge of wizarding legislation and, paradoxically, her seat on the Wizengamot seemed to make her the advocate of choice for the downtrodden. Being a member of the Wizengamot meant diddly-squat in terms of influence (unless Draco surreptitiously supported her initiatives), but somehow it had invested her with a hitherto unobtainable aura of respectability. Not even the fact that she had obtained it by virtue of being a Malfoy could seem to taint it.
Naturally, plenty of people who did contact her deserved nothing more than a kick up the arse.
Mr Gildersleeve and his attempt to make her re-enslave his house-elves were still a sore point. It didn't matter how many times Ron retold the story, with more embellishments every time; Hermione still failed to see the funny side of it. Mr Gildersleeve truly had taken the biscuit, and he had deserved everything he got. Usually, Hermione was a bit more considerate with her other clients, a narrow majority of whom actually had a genuine grievance and no one else to turn to.
Sometimes she seriously considered starting a Wizard's Advice Bureau in imitation of the Muggle institution, but she hadn't quite got around to it yet.
After moving out of the Dower House, she had rented an office in Hogsmeade where she could receive her clients. An elaborate set of wards had been set up to ensure that the people who contacted her did so in good faith, but even so she preferred to receive strangers on her own ground. It had been convenient and intrusive in equal measures to have clients coming to the Dower House. Hermione quite enjoyed having her own office set up; finally she could impose some order on her filing system. Draco had a horrible habit of hogging files even after he had forgotten all about them; there had been a marked improvement since he had to start Apparating to Hogsmeade to get his paws on her notes.
It came as a bolt out of the blue to be met by Percy as she stepped out of the yard behind Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes in Hogsmeade. She had Apparated there for her appointment with Mrs Shunpike, whom she was meeting in front of the Three Broomsticks. Hermione always travelled with her wand drawn; fortunately Percy had enough wits to approach her from the front where she could see him, while hissing his credentials to her.
"I'm Percy and it was Fred who shrank my towel that time, now will you just come on, Hermione!"
She gave him a minute nod to signal that she wouldn't hex him. Percy promptly grabbed her around the waist and Apparated them onto the shore of a loch. They were suddenly surrounded by fir trees and gnarled bushes. There were no other human beings to be seen, only the wide grey skies. Percy noticed her looking around curiously.
"Loch Errochty. I used to come here a bit the last year at Hogwarts–" He suddenly looked self-conscious, and Hermione remembered that he had been going out with Penny Clearwater then, and held an Apparating licence. It wasn't difficult to imagine what attractions the splendid Highland isolation had held, especially for a Head Boy blessed with brothers like Fred and George. "Well, that's neither here nor there," he abruptly ended his reminiscences, and methodically started casting an intricate web of spells.
Hermione watched, fascinated; beneath all his fussiness Percy had always been a skillful wizard. Unlike most of his siblings who excelled at thinking on their feet, he was at his best when while not under pressure. Out of all the Weasleys Percy was most like Hermione imagined she would have been, if she had been left to her own devices. She used to feel vaguely sorry that Percy never had his own Harry and Ron to shake him up a bit, but then he was a happily married and a family man, and Hermione– Well, she was hardly in any position to judge.
"We won't be overheard now," Percy declared confidently, letting his wand slide back into his shirtsleeve for the moment.
For the first time Hermione noticed that he was wearing Muggle clothes; unlike his late father, he appeared to have mastered the art of wearing a Muggle suit inconspicuously. In fact he was looking deceptively like a mid-level manager in the City of London, his slight paunch reinforcing the illusion.
"What's going on?" she demanded. "Why aren't you at work, and how did you know I was going to Apparate to the shop?"
"It was a lucky guess," he said. His mouth was forming a narrow line, in a way she recognised from when his prefect duties ceased to mostly entail stopping second-years from casting spells in the halls, instead demanding that he did his best to keep them safe from ancient monsters. Something had perturbed Percy deeply. "Sturgis Podmore almost broke his cover trying to get hold of me today."
Hermione looked at him sharply. Sturgis, formerly of the Order of the Phoenix, was one of the highest-ranking Ministry officials in the League and he had proved that he could keep his head at numerous occasions over the years. One of their more elementary precautions was not to betray that he had any relationship with Percy, beyond butting heads annually over the budget allocations. If Sturgis had been prepared to risk exposure, this must be serious.
"I think he managed to evade suspicion, but it was a close call. Hermione, I – I don't know how to say this." Percy pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, seemingly at a loss for words.
"Just tell me! For heaven's sake, get on with it!" Hermione commanded, exasperated.
"All right." He raised his head and drew a deep breath, before he looked down to meet her questioning gaze. "You know I thought it was a mistake for you to marry Malfoy, but there is nothing to prove that he's in on it."
"In on what, Percy?"
"Apparently you were about to walk into a trap just now, and Lucius Malfoy helped setting it up."
"What? That's impossible!" Even as Hermione dismissed the idea verbally, she started to consider it. Where had that letter from Mrs Shunpike come from? Her owl post still went through the Dower House to keep the Ministry off the scent, taking advantage of the excellent security measures they had set up. Why hadn't she changed it?
Hermione's hands flew up to fruitlessly pull at her hair in frustration, as if she could pull the truth out of it. Lucius couldn't have tampered with her post– Oh yes, he could. If he had a deal with the Ministry, she couldn't rule out that he had access to magic. Lucius Malfoy without magic was not an opponent to be trifled with; with it, it wasn't unthinkable that he could slip beneath even Draco's notice. She looked up at Percy, the cast of her mouth determined.
"Tell me everything you know. Please."
There wasn't much. Hermione would be seen with Mrs Shunpike in Hogsmeade entering her office, and then a tragic incident would occur. No one would be able to point any fingers at the Ministry. Hermione wondered what Lucius had managed to extract in return for his involvement, in addition to being released from Azkaban; the Manor, perhaps? Or was erasing the stain from the family tree sufficient compensation?
It was obvious that Percy would be quite easy to convince that Draco was involved if he only could find a scrap of evidence for it. Hermione didn't consider it for a second. Sometime between now and the last time her life was in danger, she had come around to the idea that Draco truly didn't want her to come to harm.
The corollary of that made her consider her next step carefully; she didn't exactly want to throw Lucius' betrayal in Draco's face, but something had to be done. Percy had forcefully dissuaded her from the idea to walk into the trap with support waiting in the wings. He was quite relieved when Hermione admitted that it not only would be harebrained when she didn't know what was expecting her, but that she also had missed her tip-off when Percy had whisked her away from Hogsmeade.
-oOo-
The sound of an owl pecking on the window, just an inch from her nose, startled Hermione out of her reverie. She was looking out at Bermondsey Street from the kitchen in her flat while she was waiting for the kettle to boil, having gone there to think after her cloak-and-dagger meeting with Percy. He was calling a meeting with the League in the next few hours, and until then she was at a loose end.
Draco was busy with some mysterious business of his own that she had judged wisest not to enquire into, lest she found out something she didn't want to know. His network of contacts and spies was very useful, but by mutual agreement Hermione remained in the dark about the details. She had sent him an owl in case he had returned home already, but she didn't anticipate hearing from him until the meeting; possibly he wouldn't even be there. This Christmas she was definitely getting Draco a mobile, she didn't care what he said anymore. His ridiculous refusal to acknowledge that Muggles had vastly outperformed wizards in the field of long-distance communications–
Hermione was rehashing the familiar argument in her head as she let the bird in, hoping none of the neighbours had noticed. She gingerly detached the rolled-up letter from the imposing owl (the Malfoy birds were not known for their kind disposition, unlike her own Ruta). She skimmed through the first part of Draco's message, which confirmed that Darwent definitely was on the take, and then came to an abrupt stop as she read the last few lines. As the implications dawned on her, she was so dumbfounded that she had to read it twice.
"Dear God," she said weakly, only managing to land on a chair by sheer luck, as she staggered and her knees suddenly gave out. She barely noticed the impact.
The letter was rather mundane compared to her reaction. Draco simply notified Hermione of his intentions to drop into her Hogsmeade office to collect the file on complaints against the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, since that was where Darwent worked; he wasn't sure when he would get there, but he thought it would be sometime in the afternoon.
The first thing Hermione did was taking a deep breath, and focus on the first happy memory she could think of; last Tuesday night, when she had brought Draco over to have dinner with her parents. Afterwards, they had played the thoroughly Muggle game of Scrabble. Hermione and her mother had gone head-to-head, and finally required a magical dictionary in addition to the old Oxford Dictionary traditionally used to settle such disputes in the Granger household. She remembered their faces, all lit up with laughter, and as she voiced the spell her otter Patronus burst forth from her wand.
Even as the otter disappeared through the window and became invisible in the sunlight, she knew that it most likely was departing on a fool's errand unless Draco happened to be somewhere in London. There was no quicker way for her to get hold of Draco other than by Floo, and Percy was already looking after that side of things. In either case, Draco was most likely still out somewhere, and it would be too late by the time the messages reached him.
Wordlessly, Hermione Summoned several objects and stuffed them unceremoniously in her pockets. She hesitated, before pulling out her sharpest kitchen knife and wrapped it in a dishtowel before shoving it in with the rest. At the last moment she remembered to let the owl out, before Apparating without looking back.
Arriving in the familiar hall of the Dower House, she was relieved not to encounter Narcissa. The wards must still recognise her as a member of the family, she thought distantly, as she blasted one door after another open in her search for Lucius. When she finally located him in the study, he looked up at her from his place behind the desk (Draco's desk, she thought irrationally).
His raised eyebrows were the only part of his face to betray any surprise at the intrusion; he was wearing an expression of mild contempt, as if Hermione was nothing more than some dust stuck on his boot and as easily disposed of. Well, that had been the plan, hadn't it?
"To what do I owe the unexpected honour of your company?" Lucius drawled, and even in the grip of her all-encompassing concern and fear for Draco his smug self-satisfaction manage to annoy Hermione royally.
"Spare me," she said coldly. "Draco is going to my office to pick up some files as soon as he's finished his meetings." If she had needed any proof of Lucius' involvement, the way his pale face turned stark white at this seemingly innocuous announcement would have been sufficient to implicate him. He made as if to rise from his chair, but instead he grabbed the desk for support, until his knuckles turned as white as his face.
"What? When?" he said with a voice turned hoarse with fear, and Hermione almost felt some sympathy for him.
"Any time now. I'm going after him, but you must tell me how to save him or it will be useless. Quickly!" she commanded, and Lucius looked at her with something like gratitude. She would have liked to throw it back into his face, if only there had been enough time.
Hermione blanched when she was told the details. Without regard for her audience she sent off her Patronus again and fired away messages using her old DA coin, in the vague hope that someone was within range. A solo expedition would be madness, and yet she would have to go ahead alone if she was to have any chance of getting there before it was too late.
It was obvious that Lucius had been to war; his report was brief, concise and appeared to contain all necessary information. Of course, Hermione had no way to determine whether he was truthful or sending her to her death like he originally had intended, but she couldn't deny that the man once must have been a decent commander.
"That's all?" she asked briskly when he seemed to be done. As he nodded, she was patting her pockets to make sure she had everything. She drew a deep breath, preparing to Apparate to the Burrow to see if she could round up any backup before walking into the lion's den.
"Wait!" Lucius said, and then appeared to regret it. "If you can save my son–" he commenced and then stopped, as he couldn't find the words.
"Spare me," Hermione said for the second time. "I can't imagine anything you could say that I'd want to listen to anyway."
She really didn't want to do this, but there was no time for anyone else and she had tarried too long already.
"If I don't come back, can you please find someone to pass on a message to my parents?" she asked stiffly. She hoped, against all expectations, that he of all people would understand the importance of family. "Just to tell them I love them, and that I had to try–"
Something indefinable passed over Lucius Malfoy's face, and Hermione recalled that he had killed several families just like hers during his Death Eater career, simply for having the audacity of bringing a Muggle-born witch or wizard into the world. She was already regretting her request when he spoke.
"I will, I swear it." Lucius bent his head in a stiff nod; like an emperor saluting those who are about to die, Hermione thought in the split second it took her to gather her determination around her like a cloak and focus her mind on a rickety house at the foot of the Devon hills.
When the sharp crack of her Apparition had ricocheted through the house, a wordless scream emanated from the wizard left behind, like an animal in pain. With surprising strength he threw over the antique desk. It crashed into the wall with a deafening sound of splintering wood and breaking glass. A chair, several books and the Sneakoscope Hermione had admired years ago soon followed it, while Lucius kept screaming at fate and human folly and the perversity of fortune.
–o –
Hermione Apparated straight to the lawn in front of the Burrow, and was relieved to see more people waiting for her than she had dared hoping for.
"I know where it is, I'll Apparate–" Quickly scanning the faces turned towards her, she didn't stop to deliberate. She had done her thinking when Lucius was talking, and had ruled out taking more than one person with her. "–Ron there with me. Then he'll Apparate back for the rest of you and tell you what's going on. Now!" she barked, cutting Ron off before he got any words out.
He latched on to all parts of her he could find purchase with (trust Ron to go for her bloody thigh) and Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, forcing anything other than the picture of the meadow above the Shrieking Shack out of her mind. She knew that Ron was familiar enough with it to Apparate there on his own, but she didn't dare waste any more time explaining what Lucius had told her about the way the trap had been set up, and the quickest way was to show him.
It was difficult to focus all her deliberation on the Apparition when she was acutely aware that she was staking all their lives on the word of a man who hated her enough to collude with the same Ministry that had imprisoned and impoverished him to have her killed.
The familiar feeling of her body being compressed from all sides until she thought she would burst gave way. As she opened her eyes, Hermione was greeted with the familiar feeling of weak Scottish sunshine on her face. They were in the meadow above Hogsmeade; far enough from the village to escape the notice of the villagers, while close enough to make it believable that Hermione would have passed it if she had gone for a walk. Under normal circumstances, it would have been a pleasant spot to visit.
Hermione had had sufficient presence of mind to cast a wordless Disillusionment Charm on all of them before Apparating; a Malfoy special, actually, which Draco had assured her was unknown to the Ministry and therefore would avoid detection by their wards. She was fervently hoping he had been right. After a few whispered instructions and a hurried detection spell, a quick hug and a soft pop announced Ron's departure. Hermione was on her own.
On the other side of the meadow a familiar head of pale hair was shining in the sun, surrounded by a grey haze, and it took all her might not to shout out to Draco. He was still standing, at least.
Hermione focused all her concentration on one simple spell, wand stretched out straight ahead of her. Her hand was shaking slightly as she clenched her fingers around it. Spells were usually more powerful if you could vocalise them, so she roared the words, digging her boots deep into the soggy ground as if she was drawing power from the very earth below her feet.
"ACCIO DRACO!"
And in the air Draco flew in a graceful arch, somehow managing to remain as lithe as if he was flying his beloved broom. The sight of him, undamaged and whole, made Hermione's heart twinge in painful realisation of what it would have been like if she had arrived too late. In the space of a breath, the fierce joy she felt at seeing him alive and the terror she had been ruthlessly suppressing ever since she had read his letter suddenly fell into place with the inevitability of gravity.
She loved him; she probably had loved him for rather a long time without realising it. Ever since she had been in love with Ron in sixth year she had known that you don't love somebody because they possess a laundry list of good qualities; it's the glorious inconsistencies, their humanity, that make you fall in love and not cold perfection.
If there had been time, she could have named a hundred reasons why she loved Draco; from his determination to be a better man than his father to the way he always made sure that his robes hung flawlessly with a careless shrug to his shoulders before leaving the house. None of them could fully explain why a world without Draco trying to manipulate her into something or other, or where she would never see his white-blond hair tower over a crowd again, like a beacon to set her course to, hardly seemed worth living in.
There was time for nothing more than a brief second to marvel that this love had crept up on her without her noticing. Hermione barely had enough time to gather her wits sufficiently to get her wand out of the way before Draco came tumbling down on her, knocking the two of them to the ground. He landed on top of her with his face tightly pressed against hers.
"Hermione," he said with an utter lack of surprise, in a tone of voice she had never heard from him before. It was intimate, as if they had just woken up together, and soft like a caress against her cheek. "I'm glad you got away." There was something in his eyes she didn't recognise, and the watchful look she was used to see on his face, the sharpness that was so like his father's, had disappeared. Draco seemed to be in no mood to shift as he continued to look down at her with a half-smile on his lips.
Hermione quickly grabbed her wand, wrapping her arms and legs around Draco, and tried to Apparate them out of there.
She felt nothing, not even the slightest jerk.
With a sinking feeling in her stomach Hermione unceremoniously pushed Draco over to the side while trying to crane her neck to see what was happening outside their little makeshift bubble. Something had gone very wrong with the Ministry's carefully laid trap, or Lucius had lied to her; the former was more probable since the Dementors had escaped from the part of the meadow that was supposed to be heavily fortified with wards to prevent Apparition and keep them contained. Somehow, Lucius' uncharacteristic honesty brought Hermione little comfort.
She went cold with fear when she saw that the grey cloud was gathered around them now; neither the edge of the forest or Hogsmeade were visible through it anymore. Draco was no help whatsoever; he was just resting his head on his elbow while lying on his side, studying her with that same foreign smile on his lips.
"You were screaming, and I couldn't stop her," Draco confided to her as she scrambled to her feet. Hermione knew immediately which memory he must have been immersed in and wrote him off. He was clearly befuddled and in no state to help them to get out of the situation, even if the Patronus charm had featured on the Death Eater curriculum. She would have to come up with a way of getting them out of this on her own.
It wasn't looking too well. For every second she could feel the cloud of grey closing in on them. Apathy seemed to weigh her down, making every movement laborious. Where the hell were Ron and his reinforcements?
Frantically, Hermione shook off the lethargy and tried to summon her Patronus for the second time that day.
It was futile. In the face of the advancing mist, she couldn't manage to summon a single happy thought. In desperation she tried to do it Harry's way and just focus on the people she loved. As soon as the idea occurred to her, she remembered Harry saying that the Patronus was the only spell she ever had any trouble with, when they were hunting the Horcrux in the Slytherin locket in the Ministry of Magic.
The memory of her friend seemed to be enough to bring the grey mist upon them.
