A/N: Hey friends! Thanks for understanding that I didn't update for a couple weeks; I spent so much time with my family that I didn't really have time to use my computer, so I'm glad I warned you ahead of time. Without further ado, on to the chapter (more notes at the end).
Chapter 32 - Reverse Eight of Swords
Swimming back to the surface among the myriad of memories was exhausting. No matter how hard she fought, it seemed as though Hermione was dragged back under the surface, drowning in memory after memory until she could no longer decipher reality.
But through it all, Draco was there, and Theo and Luna. The sound of their voices, familiar, far away touches, the pop and crackle of a fire in a grate… all of it anchored her, calmed the magic roiling within her, and she clawed her way back to the surface.
When she finally pried her eyes open, the unimpressive dilapidated beams of the cabin were shadowed with slanted sunlight, and she could hear the steady dripping of water as snow melted outside. Distantly, she wondered where everyone was, why the quiet of the cabin felt so oppressive around her, but when she pushed herself up to sitting, she saw Luna and Theo wrapped around each other in Theo's cot.
Malfoy was nowhere to be found.
She had no idea how long she'd been lost within the labyrinth of her mind; everything held the faint, hazy quality of a dream after a too-long sleep. What she was sure of was that her lips and throat were cracked, her nails torn to stubs. Glancing at the transfigured bedroll she'd been deposited on, she realised that the length of them were likely lost within the long scratches that had been gouged into the roll's surface.
But she remembered. Night after night sneaking from Gryffindor tower to train with them, to learn Malfoy and Nott. To become friends with them, until it tumbled into more. And her heart ached for the lost time, for the things they had seen since they'd been forced apart.
More than anything, guilt weighed on her like a stone, that she'd forgotten someone so very important to her.
No matter the war, no matter this new magic that had settled in her that had become foundational to her very being, the depths of the feelings that assaulted her shouldn't have been so easy to mask. That she'd allowed, even asked, for Theo to charm it all away settled over her, a heavy weight.
And everything that had happened in the interim…
But the dull pounding that had roused her from her sleep pulsed again, and a low groan tore from her throat. The sound wasn't meant to be loud, but it gained momentum as she swung her legs over the bed, the ache spreading from the base of her neck down her spine in a sharp flash.
Even as she clamped her lips together to quiet the sound, movement from Theo's cot disturbed the quiet, and Luna's piercing blue gaze met hers through her mass of messy, blonde waves. "Hermione!"
In a spectacular display of limbs and awkward disentangling, Luna extricated herself from Theo's grasp. Finally, when her feet landed on the floor, Luna rushed to her, waving her hand and summoning water from where it sat on a table that hadn't been there before.
Though Hermione tried to brush off the help, Luna leveled a disappointed frown at her. "Hermione, let me help you." Her tone bordered on demanding, a side of Luna Hermione wasn't overly accustomed to, so she acquiesced with a sigh. Tipping the cup to her lips, Luna slowly dribbled a stream of water between Hermione's cracked lips. The first sip was like salve on a wound she'd been unaware of, greedy and desperate in her pulls from the ceramic cup. The cool liquid settled in her empty stomach, an unwelcome reminder of her close brush with mortality.
As she reached upward with shaking hands, intent on draining the liquid that remained, Luna leaned the cup away, wiping away a dribble of water as it rolled down Hermione's chin. "Not too much; you'll be sick." The whimsicality that she'd grown to associate Luna with was gone from the girl's voice. Instead, it was shaky with relief, her eyes wide as she assessed Hermione. "We thought—"
"We didn't know if you'd wake up." Theo. He crossed the room shakily, his gait unsteady but vastly improved from the last time she'd seen him moving.
As he approached, fear clawed up her throat, the fluidity of his motions stoking her fears of how long she'd laid there. When she finally managed to work her voice around the lump in her throat, she whispered, "How long?"
Theo settled down beside her on the pile of blankets she'd been reclined upon, his hand rising as though he'd settle it on her knee, but she flinched away from him, regret and shame washing over her. "A week. Long enough for the sutures to heal well enough for me to be able to move more freely. Luna also found a small vial of Dittany in her supplies, which she used to heal some of the more stubborn spots." Hundreds of words settled between them in his pause, and when he finally spoke again, she closed her eyes against the onslaught of pain his words brought with them. "Hermione… you did what you thought was best. How were you to know that it was Ron behind everything?"
Ron. Oh gods. Flashes of their time on the run together, when she'd allowed him into her bed for solace on those cold, lonely nights, memories of his roving hands juxtaposed with the sharp hate he wielded against them now… he'd been behind so much of what had caused them to land here. And she'd allowed him to make her vulnerable.
The water she'd just drank rioted against her, stomach flipping with disgust, and she surged past Luna, past Theo, ignoring the pounding of her head as she reeled toward an empty corner and expelled it all. Luna settled quietly behind her, gathering her hair into her hands and weaving it into a long plait as she gasped around desperate heaves. Finally, when her throat worked around dry gags and sobs, she rocked back on her heels, willing the tears she'd jarred loose away.
"I should have known." She wasn't sure if the words were more of an accusation at her own naïveté and blindness or a plea for absolution, but there they hung, heavy and desperate between them.
But then Theo was there, his weather worn but kind face staring down at her as he offered her his hand and pulled her to her feet. "Hermione, it's okay. The spell… it was designed to make you repress everything. You weren't supposed to remember to keep you safe." His wry grin, the subtle preening as he straightened his shoulders and lifted the right one in a shrug, all of it was suddenly so painfully familiar that she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.
It was… different than what she remembered, her memories now tempered by the war she'd seen, the falsities she'd grown to believe, but it felt right. The embrace felt like the memories she saw, though part of her wondered if it was just another trick in a long succession of acts meant to break her.
When she pulled away, though, and saw the relief and the slight sheen of moisture in Theo's eyes, she knew. He'd been there, from the beginning. The silent presence in her cell witnessing her torture in solidarity, the one to get her cleaned up, the one who stood up with her following Blaise's death… he'd been the friend that she remembered all along.
But that also meant…
Theo noticed the change in her disposition, his hands dropping from where they'd cupped her shoulders. Canting his head to the side, he nodded toward the propped door, the whistling wind coming in around the edges. "He's outside." His lips tightened into a thin line. "But Hermione… go easy on him. I meant what I said at the manor; he never wanted this life for you. He's been beating himself up the entire time."
Hermione nodded, steeling her spine as she stared at the floor. Contradicting images were flitting through her mind: Draco curled up with her by the fireplace, then rapidly flashing to him standing over her in the cell. "I understand." She turned to slide past him, thoughts clashing inside her head, when his hand settled on her elbow.
Slowly, she turned her gaze towards him, a half-smile that bordered on a grimace lilting his lips. "I don't think you do, Hermione." He released her, pointing her toward the door. "But I can't be the one to tell you. Go."
She slipped past him, her footfalls gaining confidence as she gathered her wits about her, shaking off the haze and fear that she'd felt upon waking up. Pausing before the door, she closed her eyes, sucking in a deep, steadying breath, before she pushed it open.
The sunlight was blinding, and Hermione stumbled to a halt, her hand flying up to shield her unprotected eyes. The copse of trees around them was no longer weighed down by heavy mounds of snow. Instead, they were slowing springing upright, their creaking bringing the barren area to life as snow slipped from its branches and water dripped to the forest floor.
Her heart caught in her throat at its beauty even as she squinted her eyes to see it. Spring was coming to England.
It shouldn't have settled a seed of hope in her, but it did, and the unexpected warmth it bore pushed her forward, seeking her third companion.
Draco was leaning against the deteriorated railing, staring out at the forest. Even with his back turned to her, she could imagine his face: brows pulled tight, lip drawn between his teeth as he worried it, eyes hard as he tried to puzzle through a thought. The porch groaned under her shifting weight, but either he was too focused to pay it any mind or he was ignoring her with a concerted effort.
It was a testament to the strength of Theo's magic that he'd been able to make her forget the torrent of emotions that raged within her upon seeing him again. It stole her breath away, seeing him from afar, even as she warred with confliction.
Sorrow, that they'd lost so much time together. That they'd both been dealt such a terrible hand, been forced to face horrors neither of them ever should have.
Anger, that he hadn't tried harder to stop her, that he'd kept it from her for so long despite her demands otherwise. Fury that he'd allowed so much terror to befall her without stepping in.
Relief, that they'd found each other. He'd never given up, not through any of it, and here he was. In one piece but just out of her reach.
But the anger was the easiest emotion to latch on to, and so she straightened her spine and steeled her shoulders, crossing the porch with heavy thuds.
"You knew." The accusation in the words was heavy on her tongue. It was unfair, she knew that, but it felt better to accuse than to sit mired in the knowledge of what she'd done.
Draco's eyes narrowed for a moment before he forcibly smoothed his face and turned to her. His curt reply stung, but she refused to let it show. "You did, too. And if you were paying attention, you didn't exactly give me a choice in the matter. You and Theo—" He threw his hand toward the doorway. "I wasn't given a bloody option in it."
It stung, the truth of it. It lodged beneath her breast bone and still she trudged forward, pushing herself into his space. "You knew, this whole time. You let me think you were a monster. You and Theo… both of you just let me sit here and doubt you."
His breathing was harsh when he turned to face her. "You weren't ready, Granger. Theo told you the risks. You knew what would happen if you pushed too hard, if you tried to remember before you were ready." He gave a sharp laugh, the sound bordering on a sob. "You could have died. Merlin, you bloody nearly did! I had to pick you up out of the snow, had to watch you writhing in on yourself. We couldn't do anything as you scratched yourself bloody."
Her heart pounded in her ear as she marched forward, her finger coming up and jabbing him in the chest even as her finger shook from the depths of the emotion that assaulted her when his pain was so evident in his tone. "You let them. You stood by and watched them break me down, tear me apart. You did nothing."
Malfoy wilted, shame and guilt flashing over his features as his shoulders curled in on themselves. "I know. I know, Granger, and I hate myself every bloody day for it."
Fury roiled through her, hot and insistent, and she stepped closer, her voice a hiss. "You let me forget and you watched them torture me." A sob broke her voice and when she raised her finger to jab his chest again, the fight went out of her, her hand falling uselessly at her side. "You let it happen."
Twin spots of red rose on the tips of Malfoy's cheekbones, emotion swirling in his eyes, and Hermione realised with a start that it was the most open she'd seen him. No mask, no bravado or swagger or cunning planning… shame and regret flashed in his eyes. "I did what I could, Granger. It wasn't enough, but I helped you where I could. The torture… you were supposed to be awake. They wanted you awake, and I suppose in a sense you were, but I blocked what I could." Earnest sincerity shone in his gaze when he stepped forward, her hand flattening against his chest.
She remembered. All those times when it became unbearable, when the worst of it had just begun and she slipped away behind a black haze of unconsciousness, she recognised the familiarity in it. The dark circles that seemed to only grow worse as he watched, the way he wouldn't quite make eye contact or watch what they were doing to her.
And it dawned on her, the reason that everything had been so easy for her, the reason he'd always been able to slip so readily past her Occlumency shields, was that they'd practised.
In the Room of Requirement, they'd worked through Legilimency together, Draco teasing her for how terrible her shields were, that she wasn't a natural Occlumens. He'd slipped behind her walls so many times that she'd never thought to stop him when he wasn't making himself obvious, because he was as much a part of her as she was.
And she remembered, suddenly, words that hadn't been there when she'd drifted into the darkness, a familiarity so comforting that she'd begun to seek it out when she was alone, when she didn't think she could do it alone: I'm here, Granger.
Over and over and over again, the mantra her unconscious had clung to even when she was unaware. His voice. His presence. He hadn't been able to stop it lest he risk both of their death, so he'd done what he could.
He provided her a lifeline, provided her an out, and then trained her to use the horrors that had befallen her. All in an attempt to get her out.
Before her, Draco puffed his lips out, his eyes flicking between hers urgently as he tried to explain. "I didn't want to let you go, and I've beaten myself up for what happened every single day because of it. I listened to my mother when I should have listened to my gut, vision be damned, because I knew you'd put yourself on the line for that scar-headed twit. I wish I would have taken you away… No, instead I let you sacrifice yourself like some bleeding martyr, leaving everyone that lo—"
Both of them froze, but Hermione stepped forward, her hand closing around his soiled shirt as she raised on her tiptoes, shaking her head. "An explanation can wait, Draco."
She pressed her lips against his tentatively, the soft pressure nearly undoing her as a whirlwind of emotions, of memories, assaulted her. Stolen kisses in broom closets, the desperate last kiss he'd pressed to her lips before he disappeared from the Room of Requirement with tears in his eyes, the promises they'd whispered to each other ringing in her ears in the dark of a canopied bed where he curled around her clothed form.
All of it and more came rushing back, and she knew. This was real, the feelings that threatened to pull her under as his hands slid up her back, into the plaited hair that rested along her spine. As his lips broke from hers only to press against hers again, a puzzle piece filling empty space, she poured herself into the kiss.
It was right. The war still raged on around them, outside the boundaries of this forest. There was still a world that wanted Muggles and Muggle-borns dead, still Voldemort to deal with, but a small part of it quieted as Draco's arms wrapped around her and pulled her close.
Finally, after moments of losing themselves in each other, Hermione pulled back, breathing laboured, and she settled her hands on his chest as her heart twinged painfully within her. A shocked gasp drew her gaze upward, and slowly she turned her head, seeking out what Draco stared at in awe.
Around them, a warm, golden ring of light settled, its iridescence illuminating the shadows of the porch. Within the cabin, Theo's strangled shout sounded, and pounding footsteps preceded the door crashing open. Theo hobbled out, wand in hand, before Luna breezed past him, a brilliant smile on her lips.
"It's fine, Theo." Her voice even held her smile, musical and serene. "Hermione is happy, that's all."
It was true. For all the fear that roiled inside her, all the loose ends that they needed to discuss, the problems they had to work through and unspoken conversations… for the first time in months, Hermione felt as though a piece of her had been returned to her.
And in a way, it had.
Slowy, the magic faded, the barrier around them disappearing as she extracted herself from Draco's hold. A few steps backwards put a conscious space between them, and Hermione drew her lip between her teeth, eyeing Theo and Luna as awkward silence settled over them.
Finally, Theo broke it. "I take it you… talked?" Mischief lit his gaze as he glanced between them, a welcome respite to the seriousness of their situation. "Or didn't, judging by the way Malfoy refuses to look at me."
Despite it all, Hermione laughed, relief palpable as she doubled over, wrapping her arms around her stomach. The others joined in on the brief moment, but when she gasped, a sharp pain shooting through her head again, Theo was there, wrapping an arm under her shoulder. "Why don't we get you inside, yeah?"
Luna settled on her other side, and though Hermione wanted to insist that she was more than capable of walking inside, another shooting pain lanced through her head, accompanied by the flash of a memory, and her knees buckled. Distantly, she was aware of Malfoy rushing toward her, but she closed her eyes against the pain, forcing one foot in front of the other as Theo and Luna led her blindly toward the cot.
The short distance felt like an eternity, but Hermione breathed a relieved sigh commingled with pain as they lowered her to her cot. Immediately, her hands went to her temple, pressing against the soft divets to ease the pain. If anything, though, it only increased as another recovered memory assaulted her.
Harry and Ron sat on the opposite side of a campfire. In his hand, Harry held a worn copy of the Tales of Beedle the Bard. "It just doesn't make sense, Hermione. Why would Dumbledore have a copy of this on him when he died? Unless…"
But Ron shook his head, standing up and pacing around the tent. "Harry, you can't keep chasing after this idea. The Elder Wand doesn't exist."
"But I have the cloak, Ron. If one of them exists, don't you think the rest could be—"
But Ron whirled around, anger in every line of his features as he stalked forward, a chain around his neck as his face reddened. "Harry, I've got family out there; I have people counting on me, and we're just sitting here in the forest while you sit around with starry eyes about some stupid kids' tale."
Hermione stood, anxious energy roiling in her stomach as her eyes fell on the chain around his neck. "Ron, take it off. Take off the horcrux."
He rounded on her, eyes wide and angry. Before she was aware of what had happened, he stepped into her space, staring down at her scornfully. "And you, panting after Harry every time I'm gone. I'm not stupid, no matter what either of you think." Empty laughter fell between them, and he spun toward the door, marching with purposeful steps. "Well, I'll solve the problem for you."
And then he was out the door, leaves crunching even as she and Harry scrambled after him, his name ringing frantically through the forest.
Then he was gone with a loud pop, leaving both Harry and Hermione staring after him in shock.
Ron and the horcrux were gone.
Someone was shaking her shoulders, and her eyes fluttered open slowly, realisation dawning over her. Without answering anyone, she shot up from her seat, hurtling toward the small, beaded bag she'd discarded near the hearth the night before. Desperately plunging her arm inside, she felt through the depths for the book she sought, but after a few frantic movements, she withdrew her hand with a muttered curse, summoning the book.
The horcruxes. How could she have been so stupid?
From the depths of the bag, she heard materials topple over one another, wincing slightly at the sound, but she breathed a sigh of relief when it settled in her hand, opening to the pages that had been read time and time again.
The Tale of the Three Brothers.
She turned, willing her breathing to regulate, to calm the racing of her heart as she approached the three other occupants of the cabin, each staring at her in bewilderment. Finally, she stopped, lowering herself to her knees and placing the open book between them, the text facing away from her.
Theo glanced between the book and Hermione, brow furrowing and lips pulling into a tight frown. "The Deathly Hallows? Hermione, this is a children's story, a faerie tale. No one believes these any more than the next person. What do you—"
But understanding flit over Draco's face, and he leaned forward, turning the pages until an illustration of the Elder Wand adorned the pages.
Her voice shook when she spoke, but she was sure. This was it… all along, the answer had been in her pack, and she'd overlooked it. With slow, methodical movements, she slid the wand free of the holster she'd fashioned in her trousers, settling it besides its likeness on the page. "I know how to beat him. The Dark Lord."
A/N: If you're needing a little bit of a pick-me-up from all the angst and darkness, you should check out my new fic, Scripted! It's based on The Ugly Truth, and it's been really fun to write. It's humour and romance, and a new chapter goes up every Friday (and the posting schedule will increase once I finish the last three chapters over the next two weeks).
Beyond that, I just wanted to leave a quick note of thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read this fic. It's been a long journey that will be coming to a close in the next couple months, and I'm really grateful for each and every one of you for reading my words. This fic is by far my most read, and I'm kind of shocked so many people are reading it. So thanks for making this all so wonderful.
As always, thank you to LadyKenz347 for her killer alpha skills and tofadeawayagain for being a wonderful beta. I am forever indebted to you both for your help.