THE SPY IN THE TOWER
It was on a Monday that the seven of them all sat for breakfast at the Gryffindor table, still whispering furiously about the Founders. Only this time, they were more concerned about the tombs, and where they could be found.
They were seated on a table near the end by the double doors, so were separated from most everyone else on the Gryffindor table...who kept stealing funny glances at them. They did have a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin sitting with them, anywho.
Ron sat beside Hermione, thoroughly entranced in Ginny's and Harry's theory that Hufflepuff's tomb was somewhere below the Greenhouses. As of this morning, he and Hermione hadn't had the chance to fill Harry in on the tomb they found in the kitchens. Really, all Ron had to do was mention the idea of the Founders all being buried within Hogwarts and their gifts (for the most part) being buried with them, and the theories went wild.
He noticed Lavender glancing over at him and Hermione several times forlornly, and Ron knew he should go over to her. But he was just so...happy...sitting with his sister and best friends. He didn't want to leave them to go over to where Lav was sitting.
It didn't occur to him to invite her over to where he was sitting.
"Ron, we really should tell them," Hermione whispered to him, face close to his, with a grin. "They'll go mad, trying to figure it out themselves!"
Ron chuckled and leaned in to whisper in her ear, his hand cupped around it. "That's what makes it so fun, seeing them go mad with all the wrong theories. Is this how you feel all the time, watching Harry and me stumble around for answers during homework? It's evil, is what it is."
Hermione laughed, the sound filling the air around them, and Ron grinned as he watched her.
They had an audience, however.
"What're you talking about?" asked Harry, suspicious.
"Nothing," they both said, presenting an innocent front.
"Oh, please, like we believe you," said Ginny. "You know something, Ron."
"Yes, they both have red cheeks," Luna noted. "Like they are keeping a secret. Or like they are being infested with blumdingers...which is highly probable."
She scooted away from them, just in case.
"All right, we'll tell you," said Ron, after glancing at Hermione. "But you have to swear to keep it a secret."
He cast a silencing charm around them, and they all scooted in closer to hear.
In hushed tones, Ron described what happened to him and Hermione in the kitchens the other night. They were dumbfounded when he got to the part about Hufflepuff's tomb, and even moreso when he finished the tale describing Hufflepuff's cup on the shelf.
"You're joking!" said Ginny, hands over her mouth. "In the kitchens?"
"Oy, why didn't you tell me sooner?" Harry was affronted. "We're best friends!"
Ron shrugged and smirked. "How about next time, you choose not to swallow the damn poison and you can come tag-along with us?"
"But in the kitchens though?" Ginny said again.
"Well, that was Helga's favorite place to be. Her sanctuary, if you will. It makes sense for her to choose that sacred spot to be her final resting place!" Meghan Freeman said, excited. "Just think, all the other Founders' tombs could be at Hogwarts too!"
"Wow, where d'you think Gryffindor's could be?" said Harry, eyes lit up.
The theorizing continued.
And yet Ron noticed that through the entire conversation, a white-faced Neville didn't say anything, but simply stared so piercingly into his scrambled eggs that Ron thought he was trying to perform Legilimency on them.
By the time they split off for their lessons, it was decided that Slytherin's was in the Chamber of Secrets (of course), Ravenclaw's was...probably in a tower? They really didn't know much about her, so it was hard to guess. Ideas thrown about for her tomb's location were the Room of Requirement, the Astronomy Tower, the Ravenclaw Tower, the library, and possibly the hospital wing. And Gryffindor's tomb was probably somewhere near the armory or Gryffindor tower.
"Now, if the Marauders' Map is any indication," whispered Harry as they walked out of the Great Hall, "then I think we can safely bet that if we were to take it with us and just walk the entire length of the castle, in every room and corridor, we'd be able to find the tombs in no time! Especially if we take it in shifts, so none of us are walking around the whole place."
"I can do the corridors when Ron and I patrol," Hermione volunteered. "And the library, since I know every nook and cranny in it."
Ron laughed and squeezed her hand. "Trust Hermione to volunteer spending more time in the library."
"I can do Ravenclaw Tower," said Luna. "And the other tower near there too. I do have quite a lot of time on my hands, and nobody suspects me of being up to no good."
"I can do the Slytherin common room and the dungeons," Meghan said. "The Hospital Wing too, since I'm there all the time."
Neville grinned at her. She smiled shyly back at him.
One by one, they all offered different parts of the gigantic castle, and Ron was beginning to see just how long this would take.
"...I doubt any of us would need to do the Dark Tower, as there isn't anywhere there to even house a secret room," Harry finished.
They all shivered. Nobody like being in the Dark Tower. Hardly anyone at all went in there.
"How about we just focus on the places we know the Founders frequented often for now," Ron suggested. "As Hermione and I have to patrol tomorrow night, I volunteer we have the Map first. We can let you know on Wednesday which corridors and rooms we were able to get to. Then we can switch off so a different person does it every day after classes."
They all agreed, and split off on their own for their first classes of the day.
And still, the Auror Guards followed them.
The blue fumes exhumed from the cauldron swirled lazily in the air.
Hermione watched them, bemused, as she stirred. Three turns clockwise, one turn counter. Three turns clockwise, one turn counter.
Classes had just finished for the day, and while her friends were off doing their Quidditch training, Hermione was off doing more important work.
She and Professor Snape were both in the Potion Master's office with Hestia Jones and Remus Lupin, who were seated opposite them, pouring over old scrolls and tomes. In order to beat the werewolves at their own game, they had started gathering more frequently to come up with the antidote needed to counteract the Wolflord Potion's properties.
"Is it time to add the wolfsbane yet, sir?" she asked Professor Snape.
Snape appeared to be on his best behavior in front of the other professors. Which...of course, for Snape...simply meant he was only slightly less mean than normally.
He swept around her, cloak billowing in the small space. "Aconite is the more precise term. In precisely three minutes," the Professor said tersely. "And I would remind you that only I am allowed to handle the poison."
Hermione nodded and went back to stirring. "Of course, Professor."
Three turns clockwise, one turn counter. Three turns clockwise, one turn counter.
"Merlin, Severus, you're going to take that girl's arm off. She's been stirring for almost an hour. I know you know the spell to make the stick stir itself. Just do it so Hermione can come help us with this research. From what I hear, she's bloody good at it," said Hestia Jones, appraising her.
Hermione bit back a smile as Professor Snape scowled and obliged her with the spell. She let go of the stick, grateful. The Wolfsbane was a monster of a potion to make. This was already their eleventh batch in the past few weeks they'd made. It had to be made perfectly each time in order for the miniscule change they substituted to turn it into the antidote for the Wolflord Potion. So far they had tried all the obvious measures, and the not-so-obvious ones, and still nothing.
Merlin abroad, I hope this works…
She pulled a jar of flobberworm juice off the shelf for Professor Snape and set it beside the wolfsbane on the table. The purple flowers and dark green leaves of the wolfsbane (which Snape insisted on only calling aconite) stared unassumingly back at her, as if vying for innocence. Its roots twitched about every which way, not unlike a newborn baby's legs jerking without thought or direction.
"This text doesn't make any sense," said Moony wearily. "It speaks of the disease agents, which we already know about, but it does not differentiate between the physical and the mental attributes imposed upon by the increased energy of the perigee."
And that, it seemed, was the height of the problem they faced with.
Moony set the book aside and rubbed his eyes with his hands. It was almost the full moon, Hermione calculated, looking at him. Saturday would make it six days away.
"That's because not enough research into the disease has been done. We will need to formulate our own simulation that can recreate the physical and mental aberrations, thus concluding how precisely the reagent hastens the adverse effect," Snape said with an unforgiving note in his tone. "If you had gotten more than an 'A' in your Potion Mastery N.E.W.T.'s, Remus, perhaps you would have understood far more about your condition that you settled for. I know that I would have, if it had happened to me."
It was a mark of how long Remus Lupin knew and had put up with Professor Snape that he merely blinked and turned the page in response.
Professor Snape finished with slicing the poisonous roots up and measured them carefully into an eighth of a teaspoon. He added it in. He and Hermione both stood back several feet as the potion bubbled and frothed in rage (or was it excitement?) at the poison being added in.
"Wait for it…" Professor Snape said quietly, as they all waited with captured breath while the caudron hissed and spat.
Seconds passed.
Then blue steam rose from the cauldron once more.
The disappointment was surmountable as they let out their collective breaths.
It didn't work.
Hestia Jones swore, then colored when she remembered a student was in the room. Moony slammed the cover of his book down and put his head in his hands once more. Snape simply watched the other two, but Hermione could tell from the few Potion sessions they'd had that this news hit him hardest.
Dejected, Hermione sat down in an empty chair, blinking furiously at the tears pricking her own eyes. They were so close...so close...and yet they were now back to square one. "I thought...I thought that the genetic component present in the blood and sputum might just morph the deterioration of brain function...instead of simply causing it," said Hermione woodenly.
"It was a sound theory...and a good idea to use the Wolfsbane Potion as a base, Miss Granger," said Severus Snape as he cleaned up the last of the ingredients. Hermione stood and helped him tidy up their workplace, hardly recognizing the compliment from her surly Potions Master. "But perhaps if we sleep on it, another answer will come," Professor Snape finished.
"We might not have that kind of time," said Moony quietly, disappointed. "Perhaps...if I go undercover and infiltrate Greyback's pack...that may cut the time considerably—"
"No!" snapped Professor Jones and Professor Snape together.
Hermione jumped.
"You know that mission is suicide, Remus!" Hestia Jones hissed. "They would kill you just as soon as look at you, let alone let you into their pack. And that's not even counting what the initiation ceremony entails."
"We will need to try again later, is all. More research, more infiltration of the Death Eaters, more forays into their thought process and finding out who is the mastermind behind this so-called 'Wolflord' theory," said Snape. He snapped the last cupboard closed with a wand-flick, and got back to his usual, imperturbable self. "Now if you three wouldn't mind, I would like my office back. You can see yourself out."
Hermione was the first to leave, although she wanted to talk to Hestia for a bit, she could tell that the two professors behind her were far too enveloped in their own conversation to make much note of her. So she stepped out of Snape's office and walked alone down the corridor.
She looked around instinctively for Dawlish, who had left her outside the Potions office with the professors mere hours ago. He wasn't anywhere to be found, however, and she shrugged it off. It was probably just the guard change, or maybe he was off using the loo or something.
Hermione left the Potions corridor and turned onto the empty Tapestry Corridor. In the solitude, she pulled out the Marauders' Map and searched it for Viktor. Today was going to be the day she would talk to him, she decided.
The both of them had been growing much farther apart recently. It used to be he wanted to make out with her every time he saw her, certainly several times a day. But it had been days since she last saw him or did anything with him, which wasn't like him. She wondered if he suspected that she wasn't as in love with him as he appeared to be with her.
Her heart broke, thinking of him being depressed because of her. Tears leaked onto the Map and she hastily wiped her eyes again.
There. She saw him on the Map, outside on the Viaduct bridge.
She hastened outside through the double doors, out into the courtyard, drawing her blue travelling cloak about her against the chill wind, in search of her boyfriend. Hoping to find him before he left for Hogsmeade, she quickened her footsteps.
It wasn't long before she found him in the middle of the architectural stone bridge, a lone dark figure amidst the swirling fog, staring down the chasm at the sharp rocks far below them. He looked...sad. Sad and depressed.
"Sickle for your thoughts," Hermione said quietly, sidling up to him.
He hardly glanced up, let alone responded.
Hermione's grip on the Marauders' Map in her cloak pocket was unusually tight. Her fingers clenched and unclenched in her effort to calm her nerves.
Merlin, this is difficult.
I can't break Viktor's heart. He is so good. He deserves more.
Here I am, telling Ginny to go after Harry, and I...I haven't been doing the same. Do I really love Viktor as much as I think I love Ron?
What should I do?
Should I break up with Viktor and tell Ron how I feel?
But I can't break up with Viktor...
She almost chickened out again, but then she thought of Ron, in his blue sweater with his Prefect badge pinned to it, grinning ruefully...and that alone gave her courage.
"Viktor, I...I need to tell you something," she said quietly. "About us…"
He didn't say anything, so Hermione haltingly continued. "My reasons for going out with you were not entirely honest, and I'm truly sorry. I do feel very strongly for you...I always have...but at the time I had just learned that I couldn't have Ron, and that made my actions...less than admirable. I shouldn't have acted on anything then. You should know, I've loved this past month and getting to know you and spending more time with you, and I really wanted us to work and be together, but…"
Still he didn't look up.
"...erm...I've realized that I'm still in love with him. And it is not fair to you in the slightest for me to be feeling this way when we're together. Viktor...I...I don't think we should be...together...any more. You deserve better. I want you to have more than what I can give you," she finally stumbled out.
Tears spilled out and fell down her face. The chill wind jumped at this chance to bring her more pain, and she realized she forgot to put a warming charm on when coming outside. She shook, both from the cold and the horrifying realization that she was breaking Viktor's heart.
"Viktor?" she whispered. "Please say something."
She reached out to put a hand on his own that was clutching the stone railing tightly, knuckles white.
He jerked away from her.
"Viktor..."
Still staring down at the ravine below them, he finally spoke—
"I see you vith Veasley."
It was said without accusation, merely an observation, as if he'd said nothing more than "A storm is rolling in."
Hermione bit her lip, unsure of what to say.
"I know there is history between you and him, Her-mione. I know you cannot stop being his friend. But I also...do not like it," he stated glumly.
Hermione put a hand on his arm. "You're right, Viktor. I haven't been treating you fairly. I thought I was over my crush on Ron, but I'm realizing that I never have been over it. You must know that my relationship with Ron...it isn't romantic in any way. He doesn't like me like that. We are always talking about other things, like the Sorting Hat's riddle at start-of-term, and—"
"That doesn't give you the right to go behind my back," he snapped. "I am in knowing of your feelings for Veasley. How do you think it makes me feel, knowing you are vith him every minute of every day? How do you think it makes me feel, vhen he can be vith you at all hours, and I cannot?"
Blinking back tears, Hermione could see the hurt in his eyes as he finally looked at her. He'd never acted this way with her before.
I've hurt him deeply.
"I'm so sorry, Viktor. I shouldn't have been with him behind your back like that. I didn't think that would hurt your feelings like it did. I've been friends with him and Harry for so long that I didn't think that would change when you and I started seeing each other."
Viktor's eyes darkened, and he gazed out over the Scottish landscape once more, with the mist rolling in and out of the forested trees, the mountains standing tall and prominant, the horizon shrouded in the distance.
Yet all Hermione could see was him.
"I see the vay you look at him," Viktor said. "I hear the vords you speak to him. Your heart is not drawn to me at all, is it? Your heart...has never belonged to me. You only ever think of yourself and vhat you vant. Never do you think of others and how your choices affect them. Did you only start going out vith me to get back at Veasley? Do you alvays treat others so cruelly?"
Hot tears filled her vision.
I'm a horrible person.
"You are right. Perhaps ve shouldn't be together anymore," he whispered, still not looking at her. "Perhaps ve never should have been together at all."
"Viktor, please—" she pleaded.
Before she could finish saying the sentence that she didn't even know how to end, Viktor walked away from her. His cloak collar was upturned in the chill as he cut the brooding, daunting figure once more.
I'm a horrible person.
Until the fog was the only thing left surrounding her.
I'm a horrible person.
She was left alone once more in the middle of the bridge.
I'm a horrible person.
She had just thoroughly shattered his heart. And it was all her fault.
I deserve to be alone.
Ron stared broodily into the fire.
It was just about bedtime, and he didn't know where the others were. He came right up to shower and see Lavender. He hadn't seen the others since practice. Truthfully, he was scared. Not...that he didn't know where they were. The library was his guess. No...he was scared about the next attack happening. He didn't know when it was going to happen. He didn't know who it was going to happen to. But he knew it was coming.
And that was by far the worst. Knowing...and not being able to do a bloody thing about it.
"Ron?" murmured the girl under the crook of his arm.
"Yes, Lavender?"
"Why are you so serious all the time?" she asked him.
"I…"
Should he tell her? Perhaps...really, it had already affected her...what with the Death Eater attacking in the alley...and the Hogwarts Express attack as well, in a way…plus she already knew his family was in hiding. Well, except Fred and George, the daft gits, who refused to leave their new shop in Hogsmeade this close to its opening, so new security measures were put in place to better protect them there.
And so Ron sighed, and told her everything. Well...except for the Git Lord being after Hermione too. He figured that was her own tale to tell. And Harry and the prophecy, of course...and...well...he didn't mention much about the Founders and their gifts and tombs either...right, so...not quite everything. But some things.
Lavender gasped at all the appropriate moments, and when he was finished, her eyes were flush with tears.
"I can't...I just can't believe it!" she cried. "How much you've gone through...you poor, poor boy...how hard it must be for you. Ron, you're so brave, honestly. I can't imagine how worried you must be...how scared...oh, Won-Won…"
He hugged her tighter to him. Relieved beyond measure that he had her. Lavender's words warmed his heart in a way that nothing else could. It wasn't like he was flowing in the compliments every day. But she...she understood him. She liked him. She...believed in him. When nobody else did.
And he found he didn't really want to break up with her. He didn't want to not have her anymore. Not have her talk about how brave he was. Not talk about how scared for him she was. He needed that. He needed to feel loved. He needed to feel...needed.
Not that Hermione ever needed him. She always just acted exasperated with him. Like she was just putting up with him. Like how she would put up with…
A brother.
That word stung.
But the portrait hole opened up just then, and his thoughts were interrupted by the bushy-headed Gryffindor herself.
Hermione was with Ginny, Harry, and Neville, but while the boys were cracking up over something, Hermione...wasn't. She looked sad, and her face was puffy from crying. Ginny had already picked up on it, because she was shooting the boys furtive glances.
"I have to get ready for bed first, then I'll be up to work on that essay with you. Sound good?" Ginny said to Hermione.
Hermione nodded, and stared over at Ron some more. He caught her eyes and tried to figure out what was wrong...why she was looking at him like that...why he couldn't stop staring at her…
But then Hermione just disappeared up the girls' dormitory staircase, and Ron wasn't the only one staring up the staircase, watching her go. When he looked down, he saw Lavender was too...when she wasn't watching him.
"You know what? I'm going up to bed too. Good night, charming," Lavender said, standing up. Then she bent down and kissed him, long and soft, her manicured nails reaching around to tousle his hair and pull him in closer.
And when she finally let go, a minute later, Ron felt lightheaded and tipsy and he grinned at the emotions flooding him.
"Good night, pretty girl," he said, wistfully watching her go. The way her blonde curls bounced and she ascended the stairs...the way her body swayed...the twinkle in her eyes as she left him—
"Earth to Ronnie-kins."
Ginny stood in front of him, eyes narrowed. "Wishing you could follow her, are you?"
Ron began nodding, but stopped when he saw the dangerous glint in his sister's eye. "N...no…just nevermind…"
He dodged her swipe at him and ran up the stairs to their dorm, Harry and Neville chuckling after him and following.
They all got ready for bed, and Ron was just about to fall asleep to Seamus' raucous snoring when he suddenly heard a noise outside.
His eyes snapped open.
Creeping to the window, Ron peered out into the sleeting storm. Lightning flashed in the distance, illuminating the grounds. But after several minutes he couldn't find anything amiss so he went back to bed.
Everything is fine. Just go to sleep. No more nightmares.
He downed the Dreamless Sleep Potion that Harry left out for him. It immediately calmed him, and he got settled in his bed, thinking of Lavender and how torn he was about whether he should break up with her or not.
He couldn't have been more confused.
Hermione lay in bed in her pajamas, not wanting to brush her windblown hair, not wanting to go to the bathroom and brush her teeth, not wanting to do anything but lay in bed and mope about breaking Viktor's heart.
She heard footsteps come up behind her.
"I cannot believe you, Hermione Jean Granger!"
Did someone just middle-name me?
Baffled, Hermione turned around and sat up. Lavender was glaring down at her, arms crossed against her chest. She grabbed Hermione's slipper off the floor and chucked it at her.
"What the...Lavender…"
"You are such a cow! How could you do that to me? I thought we were friends!" Lavender cried, incredibly distraught about something.
Hermione drew back, puzzled. "But we're on good terms now. I don't understand."
"I mean you're still in love with him, you half-wit! It is so obvious! How could you do that to me?" Lavender covered her face in her hands, breaking down in sobs.
"Lavender, I…I'm really sorry..."
The other girls in the room all glared at her, and Parvati went over to comfort her best friend. Lavender leaned into Parvati, obviously distraught.
"What are you trying to play?" said Parvati, rounding on Hermione. "You've been friends with him for six years! You could have had him any time you wanted."
"That's not true, Parvati, he was never 'mine' to have—"
"I don't bloody care! You've had years to tell him how you feel! How the hell can you justify going out with Viktor Krum of all people and still try to steal Lavender's boyfriend out from under her?" Parvati asked vehemently. "You're such a hypocrite!"
Hermione sat back in her seat, shocked.
"Ron could never be mine anyway," she said softly. "He's in love with Lavender."
"What I don't understand," Lavender spoke up again, red-eyed and voice thick, "Is how you can be in love with him and yet treat him the way you do."
"What...what do you mean?" said Hermione, afraid to hear the answer.
"I mean you are so incredibly horrid! Fighting with him the way you do. Arguing with him like he's scum beneath your boots, and he just sits back and takes it! You manipulate him constantly, especially with homework, and he doesn't want that. He needs...he needs...tenderness, and...and...kindness, and when I tell him how smart he is, and brave, he just becomes putty in my hands!" said Lavender passionately. "And yet when you guys were fighting, you hurt him so much! How could you do that to him? And with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named after him too! How could you do that to him when he was so vulnerable like that? How could you tear his heart out like that? He's better than that! He's better than you!"
Stunned, Hermione only felt the tears leave her eyes.
"I...I-I didn't mean to…"
"Just leave my boyfriend alone," snapped Lavender. "I care about him too much to let you hurt him like that! I won't let you."
She climbed into bed then, and wrenched her hangings shut. Parvati, Sally-Anne, and Fay all glared at Hermione some more, muttering under their breaths as they extinguished their lights and climbed into bed.
Hermione was only vaguely aware of Ginny standing in the doorway, arms still clutched around her Transfiguration essay and books, looking at Hermione with pity and trepidation.
"How much of that did you hear?" Hermione whispered, staring at the carpet.
Creaking of bedsprings as Ginny sat on it, and answered in another whisper, "All of it."
Hermione started sobbing then, and books, quills, inkpots, and essays fell to the floor as freckled arms encircled her. She was hardly aware of the silencing charm Ginny put around her bed as she cried. Hardly aware of the hangings closing so they could have privacy. Hardly aware of how kind Ginny was being, stroking her hair as Hermione soaked her pillow. Hardly aware of how long they stayed like this until they both eventually fell asleep together.
All she knew was how hopelessly in love she was with Ginny's brother.
He walked out onto the grounds, cloak billowing around him.
It was dark all around him—not a star shone through the thick, heavy clouds that covered the night. There was a rumble in the distance and as he looked up he could see the bolt of lightning cutting through the sky with a shape not unlike the scar on bleeding Potter's forehead.
But it didn't matter—he had something else to tend to tonight…and it was one thing he could not fail in.
He focused to the right of the lightning bolt and saw his destination—a tower was illuminated against the black night, the lightning reflecting off the glass windows that spanned seven stories above the castle's main bulk.
He gripped the broom in his hand and mounted it.
The wind already made heavier by the approaching storm whistled in his ears as he flew upwards, throwing back his hood.
His Death Eater mask remained firmly in place.
He counted the windows as he breasted the tower, seeing flashes of four-poster beds as he flew by.
Finally he reached the top-most east-facing tower windows and slowed to a hover beside them. Pulling out his wand, he unlocked the windows and swung them open.
The first thing he thought after his feet hit the thickly carpeted floor was how quiet it was. He brought his broom in and closed the window just as the rain drummed louder outside. The clicking of the lock did not disturb the five sleepers, however, and their breathing continued on.
This sound—and the absence of another—brought a smirk to his lips. He had lived in boys' dorms often enough in his life to know that with the male sex there was always bound to be at least one snorer in the bunch, if not several.
However, he seemed to have gotten the placing of the doors correct on the outside for he was now unmistakably in one of the Gryffindor girls' dormitories.
He set his broom in the corner beside the window and gazed around the darkness, wand out and unlit. Five four-poster beds greeted him, all with matching wardrobes, desks, and vanity mirrors beside them.
He walked to the last two, then stopped, trying to decide which one to pick. His wand landed on the bed to his right and he approached it.
Drawing back the hangings, they revealed a teenaged girl.
She was curled up on her side, her knees drawn to her chest underneath the large eiderdown comforter she huddled in.
He did not need the next flash of lightning to tell him he had the wrong bed—the posture was all wrong, the face shape even moreso, and the crimped blonde hair splayed across the pillow was worse than the other two.
He knew who it was, of course, just as he vaguely knew all the girls in the room. Lavender Brown.
She stirred as the brief light flash fell onto her face. He let the curtains fall back hastily.
It would not do to search the wrong girl's belongings, he knew. What he was searching for was far more important than a diary full of schoolgirl crushes and fan-letters.
He slowly crossed to the other Gryffindor bed, taking in how neat and orderly everything was compared to the other girls' portions and, in particular, how many books covered the shelves surrounding the bed.
He knew without having to draw back the curtain that he was in the right place, yet draw it back, he did.
She was lying on her back with only a sheet loosely covering her frame. One arm dangled off the bed while the other was being used as a pillow, her copious amount of hair distinguishable as it surrounded her face in an unmistakable hue.
Hermione Granger.
Oddly though, there was another girl in the bed with her, with red hair and freckles and half-clutching some spare scrolls and books. Ginny Weasley.
Not five girls. Six.
They must have fallen asleep together while working on an assignment, he deduced. Still a Gryffindor, he knew that already...yet the redhead was not a sixth-year.
He hadn't counted on that.
He paused for several moments longer, staring at the brunette as he tried to figure her out. Brown tendrils fell down her cheeks, moving ever so slightly every time she breathed out. Even the white nightgown, although modest in an upright position, scooped down far lower than he was used to seeing in these Hogwarts girls.
He turned away. The hangings danced away from his grip and left a gap that hadn't been there before. He did this on purpose, however, so he could keep an eye on her as he began to do what he came for.
There were only the few writing tools and trinkets from home that sat atop the desk beside an unfinished essay. He picked up the latter and scanned it thoroughly, but it only contained the details of the seven uses of dragon blood and which potions it could be used in.
Putting the essay aside, he rifled through the drawers. Careful to make as little noise as possible, it took longer than he had anticipated. He kept a whether eye on the slumbering young woman through the curtain's gap, ears attuned to the breathing sounds in the room.
If any of the girls were to wake, he reasoned, he would know.
Thankfully, the Death Eater's mask on his face would hinder any of them from finding out who he really was.
Ginevra Molly Weasley was not quite awake when she heard the familiar creak of the window being unlatched. By the time she had woken enough to convince herself that the wind must have blown it open and she would need to get up and close it again, she remembered that the window had been locked.
She opened her eyes and silently fumed.
Now which one of Hermione's room-mates could be stupid enough to let in the freezing air at this hour, I wonder? It could be Hermione, since she's always casting that warming charm around herself at night…but no one else's charms last all night like hers does so she can't have been stupid enough to open the window just because she was hot, and successfully freeze the rest of us…
Ginny didn't normally sleep in the sixth-year girls' dormitory. But when she did, it was almost always because they were having a little party and talking about hair potions and handsome wizards. Plus, she desperately needed Hermione's help with her Transfiguration essay. So Ginny went ahead and invited herself along with them, and then comforted the crying girl and fell asleep before she cared enough to go downstairs to her own dorm.
None of my roommates ever make me wake up freezing, though.
Ginny quickly ruled out Lavender as the likely culprit because she was always complaining about being cold. Parvati was actually quite possible because she said just a few hours before how much she loved to watch lightning, but the footfalls on the floor seemed far too heavy for the skinnier girl. Determined now that it must be either Sally-Anne Perks (a fellow redhead), or Fay Dunbar (a quiet mousy girl), Ginny got a good complaint ready and sat up.
It was through pure chance that she happened to look through the curtain gap before her hands could yank the hangings aside—and what she saw froze her in the action.
A tall man in a hooded cloak was now closing the window with a soft click and he was definitely not a sixteen-year-old Gryffindor girl.
The complaint died in Ginny's throat before it even had a chance to escape. She barely had time to pull back herself as he put his broom against the window and turned around.
It was a Death Eater.
Ginny's thoughts flew in tandem with the beating of her heart, and forced herself to remain calm. Her heart was telling her to scream as loud as she could to warn the other girls that there was a Death Eater in their dorm, while her fiery nature was itching to shoot a curse at him through the gap. It was her mind, however, that forced these first two instincts down and stated that she would be dead within ten seconds if she followed either of them.
Figure out first what the enemy is after before you try to stop him, said a voice which sounded eerily reminiscent of Defense training.
That's it. Just pretend you're asleep.
She heard footsteps crossing the room. Hurriedly, she fell back onto the pillow, hair askew, Hermione beside her, eyes closed tightly before she let them relax and fall into a lax position that mirrored her even breathing. She had just drawn her legs up in her usual sleep position when she felt, rather than heard, Hermione's hangings open.
I'm asleep. I'm asleep, I'm asleep, I'm asleep, I'm asleep, she thought, heart beating loudly. There was a hitch in his breath and before she could stop herself, she moved.
I'm asleep! She thought furiously. You're going to think I'm asleep and leave me alone and get the HELL out of our room!
Through the tiniest squint she could see the figure beside Hermione's bed. Her heart, already beating wildly, was speeding up. Was he going to…
Ginny waited, growing antsy, but he wouldn't stop staring at her best friend. It would have been creepy in a stalker way, had it not been so frightening.
Turn around. Turn around and go away. Don't do anything else, just leave. If all you came up here for was to look at us, then look. But please, please, don't do anything else...
His back was turned. If only she could Stun him—she had the perfect shot. But her wand was on the nightstand, and to get it she'd need to sit up, draw back the hangings, reach over to grab it, then aim. She wanted to underestimate him and believe she could do it before he turned around, but she knew better than that.
After what seemed like forever, he moved. The hangings were loosed and he turned to Hermione's desk.
Ginny shut her eyes quickly, but she only heard the opening and closing of desk drawers.
He's not looking. He's turned away from me and making noise. I could...
Slowly, not breaking her even breaths, her arm inched across the sheet. Biting her lip, Ginny concentrated on not moving too fast or making any noise. The Death Eater finished searching through the desk and moved on to the dozens of books on Hermione's wall.
She held her breath. Her fingers reached the edge of the bed. It wasn't until they had reached the corner of the opening that she realized how quiet it was. She looked back at the figure and saw he was frozen, tense, wand in hand.
Berating herself for being so stupid, Ginny slowly let the breath she'd been holding out in a sigh. For good measure, she stretched out her legs, letting the bed creak. Then, feeling very self-conscious, she let out a sound crossing a mutter and a moan. She took a few deep breaths, then let them even out into a steady rhythm.
He seemed to have taken the ruse. His shoulders relaxed, and he sighed deeply. Still, he did not put his wand away. Once he was finished looking through the desk, she saw him start to go through Hermione's dozens of books.
Ginny was relieved beyond measure.
Back at the Burrow, she had feigning sleep to the art of perfection. She'd needed it for all the times her mother came in to check in on her, especially after the Department of Mysteries fiasco. But she couldn't really blame Mum for it...Ginny knew she and Ron weren't the only ones having nightmares about it. Mum and Dad needed the reminder their youngest two were safe and sound as often as she and her brother needed it.
And now she was in another dangerous situation yet again.
She furrowed her brow and concentration, breathing deeply and focusing on getting her wand off her nightstand without the Death Eater noticing.
He put the last book on the shelf with a scowl.
There was nothing in any of them.
He'd picked up every one, rifled through the pages for loose leaves or tucked notes, read every title—but they were all schoolbooks, textbooks, and defense books. He thought he'd found something in Hogwarts: A History, but it was just a folded parchment with scribbles about Merlin and Ancient Runes and a list of books, no doubt for class. He pocketed it anyway, but if he went to the Dark Lord with only a folded note when he was expecting something worth far more...
Damn her! Where is she hiding the information? I saw her put it in a small, black tote, but it isn't anywhere...
Once, he thought one of the girls was awake. He had heard one of six different rise and falls cease with his well-attuned ears—but the next second, the breath was let out, a roll-over and content moaning heard next, then controlled breathing once again. She was asleep.
He crossed to the wardrobe, though he knew he'd find nothing but clothes. Hanging skirts, with pleats and without, pressed blouses, crisp school robes, every day robes, girlish sweaters and nice trousers, four pairs of shoes, nightgowns and pajamas, underclothes—
He snarled, forgetting for a moment the importance of silence.
There was nothing under the bed, wardrobe, or desk, he had even checked behind each. Pulling out her underwear and braziers, he felt for some hidden latch or false bottom, finding neither in any of the drawers.
The chest at the foot of her bed actually showed some promise of anything important or secretive—too much promise in fact, for it was sealed shut and warded with protective spells.
He then worked for five minutes on the trunk alone, trying every spell he knew to open it, but to no avail.
He sighed irritably, casting one more non-verbal curse at the trunk. Walking back over to the side of the bed, he wrenched the hangings open and glared at the damn know-it-all, his hatred for her growing with every passing second, thinking hard.
The information he was searching for was in the trunk—he was sure of it. Why else would it be so heavily guarded? None of the spells worked around the wards which meant that no spell could open them. Coupled with that and the fact there was no lock to open the trunk, he was quite positive that only a password was designed to do the trick. However, he had no way to guess what it could be—something simple and easily guessed, like "Dumbledore's Army" or "The Boy Who Lived", or something much more complex, like a series of numbers, or a phrase in Ancient Runes...
Thunder rumbled. The girl in the bed before him stirred ever so slightly before settling once more into a deep sleep.
The fingers on his wand twitched, and he longed to use it on the infuriating Mudblood…make her scream and beg for mercy at his hand...her entire well-being solely left up to him...the power he could have over her...her body writhing uncontrollably...
But he couldn't.
The prerogative was to get in, get the information, then get out. But now...now that this had turned out as a failed mission, perhaps bringing her to his Master would be smarter than coming back empty-handed…
But he couldn't yet. After the failed attempt on Saturday, he had come up with a new plan that bypassed the insufferable Hogwarts wards, allowing for an abduction. And it wouldn't be ready for another week yet.
And then he knew what to do. The trunk was guarded against spells that could be made to open it, but to remove it entirely—
He shrunk the girl's trunk to the size of his hand, then picked it up and tucked it into his pocket. The solution was so simple he wondered why it took him this long. Satisfied, and very well pleased with himself, he took one last look at the Mudblood Queen before turning to leave.
It was then that lightning flashed again, and he saw something he hadn't noticed before.
There, mostly hidden by the bodice of the Mudblood's nightgown was a trace of something on her skin...but he couldn't quite make it out...
His hand reached towards her breastbone, where the V-shaped neckline of her nightgown was resting. He paused, hesitating, then let his fingers pull the fabric down in the middle...further...a bit further...
There was a sharp intake of breath, but he wasn't paying attention. He could see on her skin a very visible scar, residing in between her breasts, the raised tissue marring her skin—
What the hell—
Several things happened at once.
A rumble of thunder split the silence just as a crack of lightning illuminated the room.
Hermione Granger's eyes fluttered open and met his.
Her bosom was still beneath his fingers, and he felt it rise, gathering air for a scream—but someone beat her to it—
There was a feminine war cry and the girl laying beside Hermione suddenly shot up.
"REDUCTO!"
Author's Note:
There is none.
