Anti-Litigation Charm: It all belongs to JKR; I play for non-profit amusement.
Author's Notes: Neither HBP nor DH compliant.
Conversation in Italics signifies MindSpeech.
Happiest of birthdays to Harry Potter! This bonus chapter is a result of the fortuitous chance that two wizards were born "as the seventh month dies". I got told numerous times this week that I looked tired, but here you go. This weekend is for sleep. And hopefully review responses. ^_^
Much thanks, as always, to those who review. You guys rock my world. :D
The Problem with Purity
Chapter Thirty-Five: The Declaration
"Hermione!"
The shielding that had very narrowly prevented her from getting hit with the cutting curse was Harry's, she realized, as was the voice which had yelled at her.
As were the arms that were now wrapping around her, which was convenient, as her legs didn't seem to want to support her anymore, and Harry's help meant that she at least crumpled to the ground slowly.
"There was so much blood," she said, the long-suppressed tears deciding that they didn't care about her resolution about their not being shed. "It was so horrible, and it was my fault."
Harry only held on to her more tightly. "It wasn't."
She sobbed into his shoulder, breathing almost inaudibly, "He said."
"That's it," Harry snarled. "We're getting out of here."
"Is that so, Mr Potter?" Severus began darkly. "I—"
"That is so, Severus."
None of them had ever heard Draco take quite that tone with his godfather before, not even earlier when he had been annoyed outside the Great Hall.
"You have no idea what kind of a night we've had, Hermione especially, and she doesn't need this right now."
"If she can't react properly under all circumstance—" Severus started once more.
Draco stalked up to his head of house.
"She helped ten people gain their Animagus form so that they could be cured of lycanthropy. She watched one of them nearly kill one of her best friends in a bid to escape to rejoin the Dark Lord. She took his place, let herself be dragged all the way up the stairs with a knife to her throat so that she could Apparate him back to a cell so he couldn't harm anyone else. She went back to helping the werewolves transform so that all their hard work wouldn't be in vain, and she found the traitor dead in a pool of his own blood. She then came back to the school," Draco ended, nearly yelling now, "and put up with you being a complete arse. So I would say that yes, she can react properly under all circumstances, and now we are going to go get some much-deserved rest. If you have a problem with that, I suggest you take it up with the headmaster or with the head of Magical Law Enforcement."
Ron was staring at Draco as though he'd never seen the boy before. Severus looked caught between flabbergasted and incensed beyond all reason. Harry merely hoisted her to her feet and guided her out of the room without waiting to see if Severus was going to react or if the others were following.
Once they hit the hallway, he paused.
All right, love, he said gently. I don't want to see you again until Sunday evening.
What? she asked uncomprehendingly.
We're going to hold down the fort, and you're going to go out to the Forest. You're not going to come back until tomorrow evening.
She exhaled sharply. Go out to the Forest. That was so exactly what she needed and it meant the world to her that Harry had identified that fact and was making it happen.
Are you sure—? she began to clarify.
Hermione. He smiled kindly at her. Go. If there's any sort of emergency for which we desperately need you, you're only a thought away. I don't want you to worry about anything, all right?
She nodded in agreement with him, the movement becoming increasingly assured as she realized that he really was correct. He'd identified what she needed, he was helping her get it, and he'd promised to call her back if there was any disaster that required her attention.
Stepping closer, she hugged him again, reassured by the solidness of his embrace. Pulling back marginally, she kissed him on the cheek before moving away completely. With the ghost of a smile, she Masked herself and hurried away, not even pausing when she heard Ron, now evidently out in the hall, demand, "Where's Hermione?"
She'd never spent as much as twenty-four hours in the Forest before, but once she was safely beneath the trees, she shifted into unicorn form and didn't look back. Somehow, when she was a unicorn, the weight of guilt about Roger was lessened. She couldn't say if it was because she was less human, because she was absorbing all that soothing light, or because she could perhaps see the situation more objectively now. Whatever the reason, it was a relief.
A couple of hours running about out here, stretching her legs, and she felt as though she'd had the equivalent of a full night's restful sleep in human form.
When she felt able to support company, she joined Castina and the herd and found that their knowing what she'd done didn't shake their feelings for her in the slightest. Castina was quite firmly on Harry's side, as it turned out, declaring unequivocally that the ex-Auror's death was not Hermione's fault. It was the conclusion that Hermione knew she should get to on her own, but it definitely helped to have others whom she cared about and respected declaring those beliefs.
It soothed an ache inside her that had existed from the moment that she had realized that Severus was against her on this one. She respected his opinion, and it was a blow that he thought her culpable here. Since there was an unshakable part of her that felt the same, however, she couldn't entirely blame him. It was similar to the part of Harry that would always blame himself for Sirius's death—or for Cedric's. Much as she came down on the other side of that divide in that case, not wanting Harry to feel responsible for events that were far more the fault of Bellatrix and Voldemort and Pettigrew and Crouch Jr., the guilt lingered now.
The longer she spent with her herd, however, the more contained and manageable the guilt became. She did have a part in the death, but others did as well, and she had many people who loved her either regardless or while holding her blameless.
It wasn't perfect, but it was better.
By the time she headed back to the castle so that she could make an appearance at dinner on Sunday evening, she was in pretty good spirits, all things considered. She wasn't going to have an emotional breakdown every time Roger was mentioned, anyway, or when she saw a knife or a cutting curse. She would never hold herself completely blameless, but Harry carried his ghosts around as well. She had now done a slightly better job at laying the traitorous ex-Auror to rest next to her neighbours who had died when Voldemort couldn't find her parents.
She imagined it was the same place where Severus laid the deaths of those children on Halloween and all the others who had died when he was involved—although it was always hard to tell with Severus. Maybe he didn't have a place where he laid them to rest and that was why he could be such an arse.
Outside of Harry and maybe Albus—with whom she didn't much desire discussing the matter—Severus was the person most likely to understand what she was feeling. He had not. He had been everything that was not supportive. Though at this point she had not exactly had a rosy outlook concerning how that relationship was going, the further examples of its dysfunction were rather depressing.
When she tried to remember instances of his being kind her, it took rather a long time for her to finally recall that he had let her sleep after she had accessed the wards for the first time. But then he had ridiculed her and not agreed to help her and accused her of behaving inappropriately with Viktor…. She couldn't think of any more kindness, and then there was the looming cruelty of throwing her out after taking her virginity in February…. Was that really it?
She loved him. She was in love with him, with moments that she remembered and glimpses that she caught and a part of him that she felt as though she never saw any more. In moments like this, it felt as though caring for him was killing her.
But she couldn't choose whom she cared about, and she couldn't make Severus a different person than he was. She'd thought he regarded her as a friend, at least, or as near to a friend as anyone was with him, but the longer the year progressed, the more she was forced to admit that that seemed to have been an erroneous assumption on her part.
She kept saying it, but now she thought it really was time to retrench and try to survive the rest of the year without anymore emotional disasters. N.E.W.T.s were coming, and Severus wasn't going to become a new man and suddenly declare his undying love for her, so she was going to concentrate on her schoolwork and on curing the werewolves. And defeating Voldemort. And re-warding the school. She let out a sigh replete with wry humour. It looked as though she had plenty to be getting on with, so she should probably be grateful that she didn't have another call upon her time.
Since Ron's reactions were usually not the most subtle in the world, she advised Harry that she was returning. She arrived a couple minutes into the dinner hour, able to slide inconspicuously into the seat Harry had left open for her as everyone was busy serving themselves.
"Get your essay done?" Harry asked immediately.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Must you badger me, Harry? I already explained to you why I was shutting myself up in my room all weekend. Would I be here if I hadn't finished?"
He made a face at her. "Well, you have to eat sometime, 'Mione. Not go quite as well as you'd hoped?"
She brushed her hair behind her ears as she looked at all the unappealing food in front of her.
Fawkes, could you—?
The request has been made. Welcome back, Berit.
Thank you.
"It went all right," she answered Harry aloud. "I finished the essays for Transfiguration and Charms, but I'm not completely happy with the conclusion for the latter."
"So you'll be getting one hundred and two percent instead of one hundred and three?" Harry teased.
She made a face at him. "And I really thought I'd have time to get further on my Potions essay. I don't know where the time went."
Draco chimed in. "So now you're only four weeks ahead of the rest of us instead of five?"
"All right, all right." She knew the status quo had been maintained when she was forced to roll her eyes multiple times in a five minute period. "Are you all done having a shot at me?"
"I didn't get a go," Ron protested.
She smacked him in the shoulder, and he subsided with a grin. Alibi now firmly established, Hermione settled in to dinner. Fortunately, no one appeared to have noticed that food had appeared on her plate without her assistance. It seemed that the house-elves hadn't expected her back quite yet, so they hadn't stocked the table as they normally would. What had become the customary array of fresh produce was now before her, and they seemed to have decided that she was hungry, as it was rather a large allotment of food.
For once, at least, they seemed to have chosen rather wisely because she felt rather hungry; despite all the light that she had absorbed in unicorn form, it seemed that her human form was feeling a bit deficient. Had she not been sitting next to Ron, the amount of food she was consuming might have been worthy of comment.
She noted with amusement that the elves were also keeping Harry well supplied with hot sauce, and he poured it all over his food. Draco still grimaced faintly although the complaints and questions had tapered off. He'd seen Harry consume enough of the spices to be forced to concede that it was what the Gryffindor wanted.
Fawkes relayed the news that Albus would like a word, so after dinner, she made her way up to his office. Ron had a Quidditch strategy session which he actually offered to cancel, but she assured him that she would be fine—especially as she had Draco and Harry shadowing her, despite the fact that the invitation had not included them.
Albus did not seem terribly surprised that she hadn't come alone.
"Harry, Hermione, Draco. Thank you all for coming. Please have a seat."
They sat. He didn't offer tea or lemon drops, and she was uncertain if that was because they'd just come from dinner or because he'd accepted, finally, that none of them were going to risk drugged refreshments. He knew, at least, that she knew about the tea, and maybe even he grew tired of the ritual when everyone knew what was really going on.
"I've been giving a great deal of thought to your information, Hermione."
Right. She'd almost forgotten they needed to do this formally.
"Have you reached a conclusion, sir?"
She didn't want to drag this out any longer than necessary. Albus smiled faintly.
"That's why I asked you here, Hermione, yes. What you're proposing is very dangerous both to the school and to you personally." He paused for a moment, as though waiting to see if she would protest, but she knew full well that the plan wasn't without its risks. "I have discussed it at length with Minerva, and we have agreed that while it puts you in more danger than we would like, it is currently our best hope of success."
The same conclusion she had reached.
The headmaster continued. "You will have to coordinate with Severus." Harry shifted noticeably in his chair at Albus's words. "Together, you can ensure that the information is properly disseminated." He eyed Harry. "Will that be a problem?"
"I've already broached the topic with him, sir," Hermione said, ignoring Harry as well as Albus's question. "I will discuss it more thoroughly now that your decision has been made."
"Excellent." Albus smiled at them, blue eyes all twinkly.
Hermione had to wonder whom he thought he was fooling. She didn't take kindly to his attempting to interfere in her life. It wasn't like him at all to voluntarily allow her to coordinate this crucial detail with Severus away from the headmaster's control, and that meant he was trying to mend fences that it wasn't his business to be fussing with in the first place. She was probably lucky, actually, that he'd stayed out of it for as long as he had, and she knew that there were times where arguing with him only made it more embarrassing when he got his own way regardless in the end. She had to wonder which event, precisely, had attracted his attention.
Albus's expression grew more serious. "I also wanted to commend all of you for your behaviour on Friday. You handled a difficult situation very well."
"Thank you, sir," she said, echoed by Harry and Draco. The time in the Forest had done her good; she didn't feel more than a slight twinge as she said it.
"Minerva and Kingsley have both reported to me, and as I understand it, despite this setback, you intend to move forward as planned for the next phase of your cure."
"That's correct," she said firmly, squaring her shoulders as she faced him directly. "There are a lot of people counting on this cure, and I won't let Voldemort stop it."
"Very good." Albus seemed quite content about the whole thing. "I'll leave it to you and Severus to iron out all the details, then?"
Scheming old man. As if she'd forgotten.
"Of course," she answered, rising and trying not to roll her eyes too noticeably. She didn't want him to decide he should be more explicit in his prodding.
Harry and Draco followed her example, Albus allowed the meeting to adjourn, and she and the boys headed back to their common room. They hadn't been there for more than ten minutes before Viktor arrived, and Draco and Harry actually ducked into Harry's room without saying a word to her. She rolled her eyes now, contemplated calling them on it, and instead just let Viktor in, smiling at him.
"Hi."
"Hermione," he greeted her warmly. "I vas beginning to think I vould not see you again."
"You didn't speak to Harry?" she asked, gesturing him to the couch.
He sat. "I did, but 'She is unavailable' is hardly a reassuring answer."
"I needed some time alone."
"Vith not even your friends for company?"
"Not for a little while." She was not feeling up to the doublespeak that would be required to explain that she had, in fact, spent time with other friends. Instead, she added cheerfully, "But absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? You've had almost three days to remember what your life is like when Harry, Draco, and I aren't in it. Bit boring, is it?"
He nodded. "It is very dull vithout you for company."
She laughed. "It must have occurred to you that a school in the middle of Scotland wouldn't be as active as your Quidditch circuit."
Making a face of distaste, he said, "I do not need that sort of attention, mila moya, you know that."
"The life of a star," she said with a commiserating smile. "Would you like to have tea, then, and I promise not to ask a single question about Quidditch?"
He snorted. "Very generous of you, mila moya. I vill take you up on the offer, though."
Winky was delighted to bring them tea, complete with the foods friendly to her diet as well as all the scones, biscuits, jams, and creams that Viktor could possibly want. It seemed likely, however, that the single tall glass of mousse was for her. Despite the time she had spent in the Forest, she felt the lure of the chocolate confection even more strongly than usual and was happy to indulge.
Viktor stayed and chatted with her for an hour or so before she had to do her rounds. Given that Harry had covered her for all of Saturday, she wasn't about to shirk another evening's work, even if Harry was ready to be all noble and Gryffindor-ish because she had company. She sent Viktor on his way, agreeing to their established Thursday tea.
The rounds were painless, thankfully, and since Harry and Draco retired afterwards, she did the same. Given that she had spent about thirty hours in unicorn form, she didn't feel the slightest need to go to sleep, however, so she moved to her lab and did a series of Arithmancy equations.
Ever since Roger had tried to run off with only half a cure in him, she had begun to seriously wonder what would happen to someone like him on the full moon. The only scenario she had previously imagined was that someone might fail to achieve the Animagus form on the new moon. Her equations had indicated a high probability of a regular reaction if the werewolf moved back to the Wolfsbane for the full moon. The cycle with the Weresbane could then begin once more on the next new moon.
If, however, a werewolf had achieved the Animagus form on the new moon but then didn't take the Weresbane on the next full moon, what exactly would happen? She assumed that the Were would beat out the Animagus wolf and thus the afflicted person would cease to be an Animagus in that moment. But it wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility that they would become a werewolf Animagus, which would be undesirable, to say the least.
It would mean that they posed far more danger to society than usual, and the Ministry would throw a fit, she knew, if that possibility ever reached their collective ears. Another possibility was that the werewolf would defeat the Animagus resulting in a werewolf who could now beat her cure. If new werewolves were made by the werewolf who'd beaten the Animagus, it was possible that all of those future werewolves would be immune to the Weresbane, another outcome which she would like to avoid.
The results of her equations and calculations, unfortunately, weren't conclusive. She needed to do practical tests, and she did not intend to put a werewolf through such an ordeal. Her equations suggested that the possibility of making a werewolf Animagus were slim, which was a relief; just as the successful battle on the full moon meant that a werewolf became solely an Animagus, the theoretical equations told her that a failed battle would result solely in a werewolf.
Since she still wasn't sure about the possibility of this new werewolf being immune to her cure, she was simply going to have to be as assiduous as possible in ensuring that all werewolves engaged in both parts of the cure. It was another reason to have the safe house, she now realized; the werewolves might have come voluntarily, but once they were there, there was a minimum stay and a required course of treatment before anyone was released. As far as she could tell, there was only one dead traitor who had not been reconciled to that fact.
Once she'd tucked her work safely away in her journal, she turned her attention to her homework. Given that she'd been away for more than two days and that she had declared to the entire Gryffindor table, thanks to Harry, that she was finished several papers that she had not, in fact, completed, she work that needed to be completed as soon as possible. Besides, her compulsive nature was starting to prickle; she liked to be well ahead of her school work whenever possible, as this weekend was an excellent case in point of unanticipated events very much getting in the way.
By next Sunday, she'd have to get started on the Weresbane again, and she was hoping that the intervening week would be largely werewolf-, Voldemort-, and Final Battle-free. If it didn't pertain to school work, she decided, she didn't want to discuss it.
She spread all her books and scrolls and notes out in front of her. Surely she was allowed to have one week of the school year that was devoted solely to academic pursuits?
She made it until Tuesday. Potions had consisted of everyone glaring at one another, so that was basically business as usual, and it seemed as though, for the moment at least, Severus was avoiding them as much as they were avoiding him, so that was perfect. Charms was much more pleasant than normal, since Ron was back to being friendly, and they could hold a civilized conversation even with Draco in the group.
Tuesday, she had Runes with Draco, followed by Muggle Studies, where the blond would not, of course, deign to tread, despite the fact that she thought it would do him a world of good. While she was occupied during the afternoon, Harry and Draco were left to their own devices. At least one of the things that they did was discuss the information she had given them because after dinner, they brought to her attention the fact that she still hadn't explained exactly how Voldemort was going to die as a result of her warding lure.
That had been part of the discussion that had been truncated, she realized; she'd explained about the wards in some detail but hadn't made it past that. And since Harry was a big part of the destruction of Voldemort, she could hardly tell him that he couldn't know.
If she explained her "I want a normal week" philosophy to him, he'd probably humour her and wait a week for the details, but here they were on a Tuesday evening with no disasters, nobody calling a training session, and some time on their hands. Given how their lives tended to go, it was foolish not to seize that moment.
They settled onto the couch in the common area, and she wondered just how many serious and strange discussions the walls of Hogwarts had witnessed over the years.
"Voldemort has gone to great lengths to ensure him immortality," she started. "He is immune to many conventional weapons and has labelled you, Harry, as his only means of destruction. Unfortunately for him, his continuing efforts to kill you have resulted in his making his own death possible.[27]
"Solace, as I told you, was a Wards-mistress. She designed a great many wards, and she made some discoveries that she hid, as she knew how dangerous they could be. The spell that we are going to use on Voldemort is one which she never published. She wrote it in her journal."
"So that you could find it," Harry pointed out, perhaps just so that he could hear her admit it.
"So that I could find it," she agreed, not even trying to deny it. "She knew that I would have need of it, and she knew that I wouldn't misuse it. Many wards, as you know, incorporate blood. It's what allows Malfoys to cross their property wards when others cannot, and it's what protected you at the Dursleys', Harry. These are blood protections, of a sort, often woven into the wards that surround an area."
Harry nodded to show his understanding; Draco clearly knew all of this already.
"There are, in fact, very few delimiters for how wards can be cast. They're usually done around property of some sort, be it an area including grounds, a house, a room, or an area within one. Since most people don't study wards as they used to, the difference between wards, shielding, and other protection spells has been somewhat lost. Nowadays, people often speak about them interchangeably, when they really aren't." She conjured a pencil and set it on the table in front of them. "If I wanted to prevent that pencil from being picked up by anyone but me, I have a number of options. I could put a Repelling Charm on it or a Stinging Charm. I could make it invisible to everyone else. If I really loved that pencil, I could use a blood spell of some sort to ensure that only I or someone of my blood could pick it up."
"Or you could ward it?" Harry asked.
"Or I could ward the area around the pencil," she specified. "Wards can be cast virtually anywhere, as I've said, but they need to be anchored to the ground." It was part of the reason, she was sure, that she had such an affinity to them, because she was a unicorn, and unicorns were strongly terrestrial. "That's why it's impossible to ward a pencil and carry it around it my pocket. It's why property wards are generally so strong; they're cast directly against the ground. Properly cast indoor wards connect to what amounts to an immovable structure that has its foundations in the ground, and it comes to nearly the same thing. My wards would be strongest if I warded around the pencil while it was on the ground outside. I could ward around the entire table, and the wards would still be very strong, because that connects to the stone of Hogwarts, which is very deeply connected to the earth."
Harry's head tilted to one side. "So if you warded just around the pencil on top of the table—?"
Draco answered for her, demonstrating his clear grasp of the topic. "If you could manage it, the ward wouldn't be very strong; the table is easily movable and not strongly connected to the castle and then the ground."
The Gryffindor boy nodded once more. "But I could shield the pencil, right? Just the pencil?"
She nodded.
"But—" He broke off, considered, and began again. "How is that really different from warding? Someone can toss spells at both—or a physical attack—and be repelled. It's my magic that's powering the spell in both cases."
"Shields and wards are related," she agreed. "Shields could perhaps be considered a less complex form of warding. They're wards made portable, and they can be raised quickly by most everyone. Their job is generally to repel magical intrusion, which is the base of most wards. Since they don't have to be grounded, they can be used in the air—on a broomstick, for example. Part of not being grounded and not needing nearly as much time or skill to produce however, means that they're not self-sustaining. They last only as long as the caster maintains them. So yes, you can shield that pencil, but only so long as you maintain the spell, and even you could only get so far away from it before your shield would fail."
All things that Harry had known, but it didn't appear that it had ever been laid out for him quite like this before.
She got to the heart of the matter for this discussion. "People are even more particular than objects. You can't ward them."
"How about when you have one of the werewolves in a cell in the safe house?" Harry asked. "That's basically warding the person."
She shook her head. "That's still warding an object; it's the cell that has all the wards around it. A person like me can get through those wards, and the person who's inside the cell can be removed with the wards remaining intact and ready to be used the next time I lock the cell door. Wizards might be contained within the wards for a period of time, but it's not they, themselves, who are warded."
"But you said you could cast a ward right around an object, like that pencil. Why not the same with a human? Why not ward an area right up close to them?"
She nodded. "You're thinking of shields, and you've asked a very good question because shields can be cast very near to the skin when necessary."
Harry interrupted excitedly. "If you could cast one that doesn't allow magic past, it would be like having a perpetual shield that doesn't have to be maintained and which protects us from magic. Why wouldn't you use it?"
She smiled. "Because you're forgetting what you know about wards. You've mentioned the positive aspects, but wards are grounded, remember? So if I could cast them on you, you wouldn't be able to move from the area that I'd cast without destroying the wards. You'd be stuck in place. And although you can cast through my shields, even your magic can't indiscriminately pass through my wards unless I specifically spelled them to allow it."
He nodded.
"So imagine I didn't. Imagine I confined you to a small area and permitted no magic in or out. A cell without bars, if you will."
Harry was frowning now, and he obviously saw where his beautiful image faded into an unpleasant reality.
"Now," she said, "if I simply warded the area around you like that, you'd still have your magic available to you inside the wards. Theoretically, you would be able to attack my wards, and given your relative strength, you'd get through eventually, and then you'd be free."
He nodded, shadowed eyes saying that he was imagining all the people who'd like to make use of that sort of spell on him and take away his wand first.
"But if I actually warded you, Harry, you wouldn't be able to cast any magic whatsoever. If I could ward you, there'd be no room for you to manoeuvre. You couldn't move your wand, your core would be stifled; there'd be nowhere for your magic to go. If you can't get any magic through the wards, you can't make any magic whatsoever."
He stared at her before asking, "Why doesn't Voldemort do this all the time?"
He meant, she know, to ask why Harry wasn't already dead.
"It doesn't work like that," Draco said. "It just … doesn't."
One of those moments where the wizarding upbringing was so apparent; Draco knew even if he didn't know why.
"Because wizards developed a defence mechanism against such an action," Hermione said, nodding her head at Draco. "It's as if our cores have a repelling force. The more powerful the wizard, the stronger the emanation they have from their core. It's why wizards of strength," she said, indicating the three of them, "are more likely to feel the presence of wards and shielding; our magic is bumping up against that magic, and we're repelling each other slightly. Wards can't settle flush against the skin because our magic is pushing it away, always giving us enough room to be able to use our magic. The smallest area that can be warded with a person in it is the size of the person plus a half metre or so on every side. Cozy enough, but plenty of room for the wizard to still use magic. The stronger you are, the larger that external margin will be."
"I'm not going to ask how you know that," Draco said dryly, clearly curious.
She ignored the implied question; the experimentation had not been the most enjoyable ever.
"But you've said you have a way to defeat Voldemort," Harry pointed out. "You've found a way to get around it?"
She corrected him. "Solace found a way. The exception that proves the rule. It's a very specific form of blood ward which she named Cognatio Consilium.[28] As she designed it, when the person's magic recognizes the blood in the ward, it accepts it as a part of the wizard himself or herself. It therefore allows the warding to be placed."
Clearly remembering the unpleasant fate she had suggested would result, Harry made a face. "That's … horrific."
She nodded. "The spell is very complex. It requires the blood of three family members, and that's why it's only possible with Solace, me, and you, Harry. If Voldemort hadn't chosen to use your blood to resurrect himself, we wouldn't be able to get him now."
Harry's smile was a bit more of a grimace, but she knew he understood her point.
"But if he's all warded and no magic can get through him, what are we doing next? Didn't you say in the meeting that he would be destroyed?"
She nodded. "Because the Cognatio Consilium ward has a purpose. Solace didn't design it to slowly kill people of inanition; it's a judgement spell. It takes the judgement of the casters and applies it against the person they have warded. If they find the person acceptable on a moral level, I guess you could call it, he or she will be unharmed and the warding surrounding him or her will collapse. The person has been judged and has passed the test. If, on the other hand, the three whose blood has been used are morally opposed to the person they are judging, that person will be deemed unacceptable."
"And then they'll be destroyed?" Harry prompted when she trailed off.
She nodded once more. "The wizard has been found wanting by his very blood; the wards that surround him which his magic has accepted as a part of himself is now turned against him, funnelling the power of the casters. The wizard is obliterated; he ceases to exist."
"That's insane," Harry said, staring hard at her. "Why would she ever try to create something like that?"
Hermione contemplated that facile line about it being one of those things that had been discovered accidentally and which Solace had wished, in retrospect, to uninvent, but she told the truth instead.
"When she detailed the spell in her journal, it was the second time she wrote it down; she did give it to one person."
"Who?" Harry asked.
Draco's expression was very blank, and she knew that he had guessed. She wondered if he'd ever tell her about his childhood, if she asked.
"Her father."
Harry's face twisted up. "She gave that spell to her father? But I thought they weren't speaking. I thought he was angry—" He stopped abruptly, looking at her with horror. "You can't mean—"
Her nod was very stiff this time, her voice grave as she explained. "Her children were all grown up. Her husband had died. She felt as though she had driven her father out of the home that he had built, and she wished to reconcile with him. He was so angry with her, and she felt that this would be the way to remedy that fault. He could judge her, and she would die knowing that she had submitted to his punishment."
"But." He couldn't seem to get any more words out than that.
"He burnt the spell," she continued quietly, "and told her never to reveal it to anyone. He quietly died without anyone being the wiser that he and his daughter were reconciled in the end. He even offered to officially reacknowledge the kinship, but she refused, saying it was better that she retain her anonymity. I believe this is why. Today is why."
"How do we know that Salazar didn't really pass the spell down to someone else?"
Hermione was amused by the glare that this earned Harry from Draco, as though merely suggesting that the Founder of Slytherin might not have done exactly what Solace said he had done was blasphemy.
"If knowledge of it had leaked out, it would have been used by someone. If Voldemort had that spell, he would not have hesitated," she said with certainty. "Have you thought of what it could do? All you'd need was Narcissa, Bellatrix, and Sirius's mum or his brother together, and they could have destroyed Sirius and Andromeda and Tonks. Finding three wizards in a line would have enabled Voldemort to wipe out any dissenting members that he wished."
Harry had gone ashen, his quick glance at Draco saying that he had realized what Voldemort could have done with Lucius, Narcissa, and Bellatrix if events had unfolded differently. Draco didn't make any protest when Harry clutched at his hand rather tightly.
"You're the closest blood tie to Voldemort by far," she resumed. "Solace's spell indicates that it will work more easily with closer ties, but it is designed to work regardless. Actually, that probably means that it could wreak complete havoc in the wizarding world nowadays given that all the pure-bloods are interrelated."
She considered this with a frown but was snapped out of her introspection by Harry, who asked, "It won't matter that Solace is dead?"
"Between the two of us, I think we have a great deal of judgement on the matter," she answered matter-of-factly, "and the spell isn't really sentient. I know Solace better than anyone alive right now. I've read her journals, and I've read her condemnation of the evil that we face. So when the spell assesses if we are all in accord, I know it will find that we are, because I believe in her assessment, and you believe in mine."
"Right," he said, somewhat blankly. "You know I never imagined anything like this?"
"I know," she said softly. "And I believe that's why it's the 'power the Dark Lord knows not'. It's going to take everyone by surprise, and that's why it's going to succeed."
"Solace has explained to you how to cast the spell? All the details are there" Draco asked.
Hermione nodded. "I know all the proper incantations."
He regarded her with very sharp, narrowed eyes. "And you aren't going to say."
She shook her head. "This is information that's going to die with me. Harry and I are the only people in the world who need to know it right now, and we are never going to speak it out loud."
The two boys nodded solemnly because it was too easy to see how the spell could destroy the wizarding world in a matter of years, if not sooner. It would be an utter disaster if it became known to the general populace.
"We're going to say this spell," Harry pursued, "and that's going to be it? Voldemort's just going to die because we know he's a complete wanker?"
"More or less. It's not going to be easy," she admitted. "Although we have all the necessary blood, it's true that we're only working with two magical people instead of three; it's going to be one hell of a power drain. I don't think we could do it if we weren't both Pure Adults. Voldemort can't use his magic in a wand-wielding sense, but he's not going to want to be destroyed, and on a certain level, his magic is going to understand that, even if it can't properly defend against the connection that's already been made."
Draco frowned. "You're going to be doing all this while you're maintaining all of the Hogwarts wards?"
"I'll have re-established the wards by then," she said, hoping that she sounded as convincing as she wanted to and not like this was a completely insane plan that required her throwing far more magic than was even remotely wise into the project.
Since Draco now brought up a different problem, she trusted that she'd succeeded well enough.
"People are going to want to know how he died."
"And we're going to make something up."
He let out a short bark of laughter at this prompt but utterly uninformative answer.
"Right," he said, eyes dancing. "Of course we are."
"I'm not sure exactly when I became the pessimist of the group," Harry said, "but this can go wrong, right? It's not foolproof? We don't start casting this spell and have a guaranteed success."
She shook her head. "No. If we don't have enough magic between the two of us to power this spell, we stand a chance of burning out both our cores. If this occurs in the first phase, then the wards won't even set. I don't think that's likely, but it could happen. If we don't have enough power to properly pass judgement and kill Voldemort, then we'll burn out our own cores and bring the warding down with us in the process, since it's tied in with the judgement. Then we'll both be powerless and Voldemort will be … wounded but magical and pissed off."
"Not a nice way to die," Harry observed.
"Not particularly, no. So we're going to make it work."
Harry nodded very solemnly. "It's the best plan I've ever had going up against Voldemort, so I'm all for it."
Hermione wondered if she was just being paranoid that that statement suddenly sounded ominous when he'd triumphed in all his unplanned meetings with Voldemort. She gave herself a mental shake. There was no way that anyone was condoning going into the final battle without any sort of plan. Which reminded her.
"Draco—" she started.
"No need to say," he said immediately. "I can fully imagine what sort of horrid fate awaits me if I attempt to breathe a word of this to anyone else. My lips are sealed."
She smiled at him, especially as he went to the effort of actually miming sealing his lips, locking them, and throwing away the key.
"Might make it difficult for you and Harry later on."
She'd said it so deadpan that it took the two of them a moment to realize what she'd been implying, and this was followed with Draco's snort of laughter and Harry's usual crimson flush.
"Right, then," she said, rising. "My work here is done. The two of you have hijacked enough of my evening, which was supposed to be devoted to educational pursuits. Are either of you going to attempt to do any school work, or shall I adjourn to my bedroom?"
They both agreed that there was some work that they could probably consider doing; it didn't appear that they'd used any of their afternoon off in that sort of productivity. But they seemed happy, and she knew that was worth a great deal.
The week progressed. She got as much school work out of the way as possible on Wednesday, and Thursday evening was devoted to tea with Viktor.
Ron had apparently finally recognized that the end of the year was looming closer, meaning he wouldn't be coach of the Gryffindor team for much longer. Although Ginny was only a year beneath him, she was widely regarded as the logical choice for team captain for next year, so Ron wanted her to be in Viktor's presence as much as possible.
Somehow, adding just one more Quidditch-crazy person made the discussion exponentially livelier, and despite the fact that Hermione was completely uninterested in the topic, she greatly enjoyed their enthusiasm, especially as it was far away from the war and impending doom and destruction. Though she made sure never to tell any of them this, the mindlessness of the activity for her was rather soothing.
By Friday, the chiding looks she was getting from Albus were starting to become annoying. It was true, too, that given how busy the next week was likely to be, delaying any longer was foolish. She waited until the evening when the Map informed her that Severus was in his quarters, and then she went to see him.
He looked … less than pleased to see her, but he didn't send her packing straightaway. He also didn't offer her a seat or tea, just crossed his arms and glared at her, so she made do with what she had and addressed him from her position not very far inside the door.
Since it never did to make assumptions where Albus was concerned, she started at the beginning. "I don't know if he's said, but Albus has decided that you and I are supposed to coordinate Voldemort's being informed of the plan to ward the castle."
"I hardly think," he said coldly, "that you need be involved in any part of the process."
Making sure to keep her tone very even, she said, "I'm sure that's the case, sir, and if you want to inform the headmaster that you know better than he does, be my guest."
A scowl darkened his features. He knew as well as she how well that tended to go, but he seemed determined to stress his point anyway.
"Do you have any experience in the art of espionage, Miss Granger? Are you even marginally aware of the care that is necessary, the nuances of behaviour that separate life from death?"
This was hardly fair. She was nineteen years old and she'd spent virtually all the time since she'd known she was a witch at Hogwarts. She was part of Gryffindor house, and the Muggle-born best friend of Harry Potter. There weren't a lot of spying activities involved.
"I thought not," he drawled acidly, as though it were a conclusive and damning bit of proof that he had just uncovered. "Do not presume to tell me my job."
"That was not my intention, sir," she said stiffly. "I believe the headmaster only wanted to be sure that you knew all the necessary details from me and that I was aware of when the information would be shared. It's important that I know what lies are being told; we need to agree if there's anything that's going to be corroborated, that sort of thing."
He sneered. "I am more than capable of taking care of such details on my own."
"I'm quite sure that's true, but—"
"He'd only know I hadn't discussed it with you if you told him," Severus snapped.
That hadn't been her next point at all. Severus had been a spy for decades, and the fact that he was still alive and uncaught attested to the fact that he knew what he was doing; but that meant he should know to utilise all the tools available to him. The more she knew, the more she'd be aware of when he was in the most danger. She worried, dammit, and if she was going to be putting him in danger with transmitting this information, then she should at least be aware of the details.
She didn't have far to go to get back to the door, and she had her hand on the handle before he asked, "Where are you going?"
"It was quite clear you've finished with me," she answered, craning her neck back but not bothering to turn around completely. "You've chosen to trust me with one secret, and I'll keep that one. Tell Albus whatever you wish."
There was no response before she'd opened the door and closed it quietly behind herself. She walked back to her quarters with a heavy tread. She'd known that the conversation mightn't go well, but she hadn't anticipated it going quite that poorly. Had she not made it plain that she didn't want to interfere? A half hour would likely have been all the time they ever had to spend on the matter, if that was his wish. But he'd gone and made it such an issue, as he had done so frequently in their acquaintance.
She was tired of that. And it still hurt that he'd branded her a killer. Maybe that was it; he simply didn't want to have anything to do with her anymore. Certainly, he got enough of that with the Death Eaters, so maybe he'd decided only to spend time with spotless people at Hogwarts. It might explain why he didn't seem to have any friends, anyway.
She flopped onto the couch in the common room with a groan, glad that Harry and Draco were elsewhere. What did it matter, anyway? He'd taken care of Albus's manipulation by the simple expedient of telling her to bugger off and keep her mouth shut. Now there was no particular reason for them to interact outside of the classroom and training sessions—which didn't really require that much speaking, just hurling spells at one another, and that could easily be achieved by two people who were trying to have nothing to do with one another.
It wasn't exactly how she wanted it to go, but it was becoming more established, and she was just going to have to become more reconciled. It wasn't the end of the world.
Hermione started revising at mealtimes as so much of the rest of her time was taken up with non-academic pursuits. Sitting at the Ravenclaw table on Saturday morning, she reviewed her agenda of pending activities. She had to supervise yet another visit to Hogsmeade, make both the Weresbane and the Wolfsbane potions, no doubt suffer through another training session with Severus, work on the mountain of Easter hols homework, and see her nine Animagi wolves through an excruciating transformation that would hopefully change their lives forever.
Once classes resumed after Easter, there was all of a week and a half left of April, and before they knew it, it would be June and there would be N.E.W.T.s. She wasn't sure that anybody quite grasped how much more studying she'd done in years previous. It had all been with the goal of getting extraordinary scores on her N.E.W.T.s, and this was the year that she was insanely busy. It was rather panic-inducing when she thought of it like that.
Still, she reminded herself, she'd had the whole of this year without needing to sleep as much as normal. Yes, she was plotting to overthrow an evil would-be dictator, and yes, she spent half the month brewing a complex potion that she had spent part of that year designing, but there was no reason to panic. Unless she dropped dead of exhaustion, she would surely be fine; it didn't seem as though there could be a lot that any Ministry-appointed tester could assign as a potion, charm, or defence task that she wouldn't be more than able to manage—without a wand and half asleep, as Harry had pointed out when he'd seen the worry edging in. She knew this, but she hated the thought of imperfection, of error.
So, since she knew how to multi-task, she was revising at mealtimes, and she'd make sure she crammed more study time around the edges of her crazily busy days so that she didn't feel completely unprepared. It wasn't ideal, but very little about her life was ideal right now.
Hermione, Harry, Draco, and Pansy spent the rest of the morning supervising small children running around a small town buying too much candy and too many stupid joke products. Viktor was one of the professors supervising this visit, and he joined them partway through the morning, for his protection, he said with a smile, since he tended to be mobbed by giggling girls when he was on his own. Fortunately for him, declarations of adoration and love were slowed down somewhat when he was surrounded by seventh-year students who looked as though they might hex any approaching adoring fans.
Since wandering around with a professor also meant that they weren't bothered by students who wanted to gawk at the Boy Who Lived or ask impertinent questions about their collective love lives, they were all happy to have the Bulgarian, and they spent the second half of their morning quite calmly. Hermione was still relieved when they were allowed to head back to the school, although she admitted that she was not looking forward to lunch with a huge group of sugar-high children.
"Then have lunch vith me," Viktor proposed immediately. "I have not had an excess of sugar, I promise you."
She smiled at the offer and the teasing tone, but said, "I'm not sure the Head Boy and Head Girl should both be absent."
"Draco and I will keep everybody under control," Harry offered promptly.
Draco looked less than thrilled to be drafted to this task, but he nodded his head when he saw her looking at him.
"Are you sure?"
They nodded at her once more.
"In that case, I accept," she said happily. She looked at Pansy. "Do you think the Slytherin table can do without you for a meal?"
"I think I can do without the Slytherin table," she corrected. "I'd be happy to join you." This last was directed, questioningly, at Viktor, as though she weren't sure that the tag-a-long Slytherin had really been included in the invitation.
He smiled at the two of them. "It vould be my pleasure to host both of you."
When they moved to follow Harry and Draco inside the castle, Viktor caught their arms and shook his head.
"Ve are not eating in there. Come along."
Waving goodbye to Harry and Draco, they followed curiously as Viktor led them across the grounds. It was the beginning of April, but it was still a little nippy to be eating outside.
Viktor proved to have thought of that, though, as he ushered them into a greenhouse which had a temperature that approximated a very pleasant Scottish spring day.
"I spoke to Pomona," he explained. "She vas happy to let me borrow her space for this afternoon."
He led them down a corridor of plants until they turned the corner, and Hermione found that the lunch was premeditated; a picnic had been set up. There was a giant picnic basket that looked as though it would feed the entire seventh year, a genuine red-and-white checked tablecloth, and a profusion of flowering plants around them.
"Viktor," she exclaimed. "How lovely!"
He smiled at her as Pansy echoed the statement, although Hermione thought the Slytherin girl seemed slightly ill at ease. She hadn't spent a lot of time nearly alone with Viktor, Hermione realized, so it was possible she was feeling a little out of her depth. Hermione knew that Pansy paid far more attention to Quidditch than she herself did, so she might be a bit star struck, too. Since the Gryffindor girl was genuinely fond of the Slytherin, she did her best to put her at ease, joining Viktor on the tablecloth and gesturing Pansy down with them.
The ensuing conversation as they ate their meal was a little odd. Since Hermione didn't want Pansy to feel left out, they were restricted to topics in common with the Slytherin. Viktor wouldn't let her get away with just introducing the topic of Quidditch since that didn't include her. The only other year Viktor had been here was their fourth, and in that particular year, Pansy had been making a nice effort at destroying Harry and Hermione's lives.
In Viktor's defence, he didn't know that fact when he raised the topic. After all, they were evidently friends now, and although Viktor knew that Slytherins and Gryffindors were traditionally rivals, he wasn't privy to any of the details of Pansy's fourth-year "bugging" work; he therefore had no particular reason to suspect they hadn't gotten along in the past.
Had Draco and Ron been having this discussion, it wouldn't have gone well at all. She and Pansy, fortunately, were a great deal more mature and were not eager to ruin the perfectly lovely picnic that they were having, so they both picked carefully through the events and rustled up what common ground they could—and laughed through whatever couldn't be got round in any other way.
Viktor finally caught on to their verbal discomfort, and once they'd confessed the cause, he immediately cast around for a safer topic.
Hermione thereby learned that Pansy was looking at becoming a Weather Witch once she graduated, and they were all delighted when they were able to amicably discuss this. Viktor was very interested in weather prediction because it had such practical applications for Quidditch matches. A reliable prognosticator could give a team a definite edge, working out where practices and matches should be held and allowing the team to focus on the sorts of moves that would be most useful for upcoming matches.
Using her Astronomy and Divination background, Pansy was working on a theory that she thought would revolutionize accurate predictions; Viktor was effusive in his praise, which made Pansy nearly glow with pride. Hermione got the feeling the Slytherin didn't get to share these sorts of details with people very often.
What followed was a rather less satisfactory discussion about Hermione's career indecision. Viktor and Pansy readily agreed that she pretty well had her choice of fields (with the notable exception of Quidditch), and since that gave her far more options than most people had, they seemed to think it entirely reasonable that she hadn't made up her mind yet.
Hermione had, in fact, a bit of an idea about where her future might lie eventually, but she thought that she'd still have some time to fill with other career options, and with the wide world calling, it was very difficult to narrow her desires down.
Once a larger portion of the food had been eaten then Hermione had initially thought possible, they packed up and headed back to the castle. Since she and Pansy were already together, they agreed to do a quick set of rounds just to ensure that the sugar-high children weren't getting up to any visible mischief.
They bid Viktor farewell and hiked up to the top floor and worked their way down, reminding a great many students that they couldn't misbehave in the corridors and ignore the warnings of a Prefect and the Head Girl. Hermione wanted to know how on Earth they could forget those pertinent pieces of information from day to day, but Pansy theorized that the huge quantities of sugar had brought about some form of memory loss.
They spent two floors coming up with a sugary potion that could have that sort of effect, and two more floors-worth of miscreants went by as they worked out an antidote. By the time they reached the dungeons, they were considering mass production and dispensing it to all Prefects for use in just these sorts of situations. They'd just about reached the hallway that led to the Slytherin common room when Draco suddenly appeared and seized Pansy's arm.
"I'd like a word," he said as he began to haul her back down the direction they'd just come.
Hermione waved goodbye and heard just before they passed out of her earshot a defensive-sounding, "Because she asked me!" from Pansy.
Puzzled, Hermione headed back to her common room to find that Harry was sprawled on the couch with a Transfiguration textbook.
"Do you know what's going on with Draco?" she asked.
He glanced up briefly but then looked studiously back at the book. "He just wanted to talk to Pansy."
His forced casualness hadn't been the slightest bit convincing, but since she could easily ask Pansy later, she shed her outerwear and returned to the common room with her own school books.
Now that she'd done her duty with both chaperoning the visit to Hogsmeade and rounds, she felt that she had definitely earned the rest of the afternoon and evening for her own studies.
Draco rejoined them shortly thereafter, and she was unable to decipher his expression. It was sort of exasperated, but she thought there was more to it than that. Harry's presence cured him of the expression almost immediately, however, and they all went back to their books.
She worked quickly and efficiently until dinner, reread several sections of her Potions text during the meal, and returned to her papers as soon as she was back in her room. Others might think she was insane, but she knew that they'd be regretting their work ethic by the time they hit the hols. The professors had absolutely piled homework on for the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. students.
She saw it every year when she was here over the holidays, more and more students working more and more frantically as the holiday progressed; she didn't intend to be one of those people. If they had any sort of sense, they'd be working hard now, in the last week before the holidays started, but most of them seemed to be glorying in their supposed free time.
It was almost ten o'clock at night when Viktor showed up at their door, and Harry and Draco didn't have the opportunity to perform their vanishing act because they had too many supplies in evidence in the common room.
It turned out not to matter, as Viktor invited her out. She finished off the paragraph she was working on and rose to join him.
"Decided I can't live without you today?" she asked once they were in the corridor.
"I vanted to see you again," he said simply. "This seemed the most expedient vay."
She raised an eyebrow. "Asking generally is."
Viktor let out a huff of breath. "I vanted to talk to you earlier, but that vasn't possible vhen you asked Pansy to join us."
She frowned. "You invited us to lunch."
He shook his head. "I invited you to lunch vhile the others vere there."
"Oh." If he'd just wanted to have lunch with her, why hadn't he invited her by name? "I'm sorry," she offered finally, since it was her assumption that had apparently forced Pansy along.
"It does not matter," he said offhandedly. "I know that you meant it kindly, and ve had a very pleasant discussion. She is a nice girl."
Hermione smiled, relaxing slightly. "I'm glad you think so. Where are we going?" she asked as they continued to climb up numerous flights of stairs.
"Ve vill be there soon."
Several more staircases, and she was pretty sure she knew where they were headed, and an uneasy feeling had begun to blossom in her stomach. She wanted to stop and refuse to go any further but realized that wasn't entirely rational—and it certainly wasn't polite.
They emerged into the open air on top of the Astronomy Tower. It was a clear night, the stars shining brilliantly, the moon half full. She said as much, as she walked to the balustrade and leant against it, hoping she didn't sound as nervous as she felt.
"It is very beautiful," he agreed, but he wasn't looking at the sky.
She threw up privacy charms.
"Viktor," she said, a slight tremor in her voice, "why have you brought me here?"
"Because I could not speak to you at the picnic as I had planned."
"What could you not say in front of my friends?" she asked heavily, dreading his answer.
He stepped close to her, forcing her to look up to meet his eyes. His gaze was very intense and his voice thick with emotion as he said, "Mila moya, you must know how I feel about you."
She wrapped her arms around herself.
Although he had denied it the only time she had brought it up—several years ago now—she supposed there had always been a niggling suspicion in the back of her mind concerning how he felt about her. Since he had denied it overtly, she had hoped that could make it true. She didn't want to destroy their friendship.
He was staring so carefully at her, and she knew that a response was required, a good response because that was what he deserved, but her tongue felt wooden.
"Viktor," she said softly, finally, because the silence had stretched far too long. "We've talked about this."
"I know ve have, Hermione," he agreed, stepping closer to coax her arms out of their tight position so that he could clasp her hands, his fingers radiating heat. He smiled a little at her as he asked, "But has nothing changed? Have your feelings not changed?"
This was an impossible question to answer, because her feelings had changed a great deal since her fourth year, but not in the way that he was hoping for. She had fallen in love. Just not with him. And she now knew exactly what it was going to do to him when he found out that she didn't return his feelings.
She wasn't convinced that he should really be in love with her given how little time they'd actually spent together, but then she asked herself if she really knew Severus; she was forced to concede that if Viktor thought he was in love with her now, she could not tell him that he was wrong.
And she felt absolutely, completely wretched because she couldn't pretend. Given her own experience, she was most definitely in a position to say that leading him on, giving him false hope, would be worse.
"Viktor," she answered softly, "I don't want to be the one to break your heart."
He moved closer still so that they were practically touching, and she could see how pale his skin was and how dark and intense his eyes. She wanted so desperately for him to be someone else that it actually hurt. He squeezed her hands gently.
"Hermione, you could never do that."
Looking up into his earnest face, she remembered how sullen he had been when they had first met. Now she could recall myriad images of his smiling at her, laughing with her, even, soliciting her advice and listening carefully to everything she said even when it was about potions. At this precise moment, he was deeply interested in her. Only her.
"But I could," she answered with a slight shake of her head. "So easily."
Because he didn't understand the tempting offer he was making. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Severus was her mate. He could be completely horrible and they would never have a future together, but that didn't change the one fundamental fact that sang in her soul. It also didn't change the fact that she desperately wanted to be loved, and here was someone who was professing his love to her.
Viktor's hands slid to her shoulders as he leaned down towards her. The kiss told her everything she could ever want to know. She could feel that he'd poured his emotions into that kiss. For an instant, she contemplated giving in, contemplated letting him show her how he felt about her on a regular basis.
And then she thought about Severus, and her devastation if he were to do to her what she was thinking about doing to Viktor, pretending to love when it couldn't be.
She remained unresponsive, and after a long moment, Viktor drew back.
"Hermione," he said softly, and there was pain in his voice now.
She closed her eyes, tilting her head away from him as she felt the tears well up. "Viktor," she breathed. "I like you. As a friend, I even love you. But I'm not in love with you, and I won't start what I can't finish. You'd hate me."
"I couldn't ever hate you, Hermione," he said, and he sounded so sure of that fact, despite all that she had said to him. "I love you."
The first of the tears began to slide down her cheeks. "Part of me wants quite desperately to love you," she answered honestly. "I can tell how sincere you're being, I honestly can." He'd begun to look hopeful again, and she hated to crush him, but she knew she had to do it now. "But I'm in love with someone else. Irretrievably."
His face grew expressionless, and she was reminded more than ever of the man she loved. She reached out and was mildly surprised when he allowed the touch. Severus wouldn't have, not if she'd dealt him such a blow.
"I know exactly how you feel," she told Viktor, shaking her head as the tears continued to flow. "You don't know how fully. But it doesn't change how I feel. And it would be horribly dishonest and … so cruel if I let you go on thinking that there was a chance that anything could happen between the two of us. I've let it go on too long letting you agree that we were friends when I knew in my heart that wasn't what you were thinking." She drew a deep, shuddery breath. "I would like to remain friends, but if that isn't possible for you, I understand."
"And that is all?" he asked, pulling away, and she let her hand drop uselessly to her side.
She nodded, having to work to find her voice. "I can't love you as you deserve to be loved, Viktor. I want better than that for you." Her voice broke. "I'm so sorry."
He took a step away from her, turned, and walked away. She wanted to go after him, to hug him to her and make him feel better, but she knew it could not be.
Sliding down the balustrade, she buried her face in her hands, giving in to the sobs that had been fighting their way up her throat since his declaration. There went the one man who actually loved her and with whom she had some chance of a relationship. And here she was, pining after the man she did love who couldn't stand her. Fate could really be a bitch.
Never had she imagined that she would be subject to the humiliation of sobbing her heart out on the top of the Astronomy Tower.
[27] My fic does not deal with Horcruxes; as you prefer, they do not exist, or the spell that Solace designed overrides them, destroying every part of the judged person, be it "in body" or not.
[28] I know no Latin, so "Cognatio Consilium" isn't conjugated; I simply picked a word for "family" and a word for "judgement" which I thought sounded nice together.
The next chapter, in which a full moon rises, will be posted next Thursday.