She sighed, heavily placing down her hand upon the desk; the crumple of parchment softening the hard wood beneath her wrist. Her other hand smoothed the ever deepening wrinkles that marred her fast aging skin. She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply, willing the stress away with every breath she took.
"Albus," Minerva McGonagall said to the man in the portrait observing her carefully, the oils in his painting shimmering with his movement. "I'm missing so much here. So much doesn't add up." She sighed, shifting a mass of parchment to uncover a book that was so touched by age the pages were almost worn thin.
"I will help the best I can," he replied, as the other portraits shifted behind him, each murmuring their agreement; some slipping into frames that was not theirs as if to demonstrate their willingness to help.
"The magic used…it doesn't make sense. Magic of that time was very wild; you could barely trust it. Source after source says this; that just binding the magical essence to the grounds would have been enough. Yet, we know that this isn't the case. Wands were developed a hundred years after this type of magic was becoming more commonly used, then the first warding spells another three hundred years after that. It doesn't add up. There is only a single documented case of combining verbal spells with the raw base magic of old." Minerva sighed once more, aware that she'd only just scratched the surface of all the issues that weren't quite adding together. "We are missing something Albus, and I feel it's very obvious, but we're just not seeing it. It's within fitting a type of magic traditionally used without a wand and incantation; to the use of both." She smoothed her hands over her head, patting her steely grey bun in place. Ignoring Dumbledore looking at her with the first twitches of a smile under his crooked nose.
"In fact, the only documented case of this kind of magic, fits when Hogwarts was founded but I refuse to accept the use of that spell here. I refuse." Minerva said shifting another pile of parchment and dropping it with a surprisingly weighty thud. Albus' silver brows lifted slowly, sympathetically and sadly as he regarded his old friend.
"Minerva," he said gently, encouragingly.
"No, I refuse it Albus. It is…illegal. Illegal beyond all senses of the word; it's as bad as Voldemort!" She whispered a distraught edge to her hissed tones.
"Times were different then; very different then." Albus replied, dipping his head with a great sigh.
"This cannot happen!" Minerva retorted her expression desperate, as if if she said it enough, she could unfurl the fabric of magic and replace it all with something better.
"Think Minerva, think on all the questions and what you learnt that day; you know it is so." Albus again prodded her gently, as her head fell into her hands once more, disparagingly.
"We cannot have another death." She moaned, unable to look up at him.
"Hogwarts and its lands aren't just a reserve; they're a portal into the wizarding world. These lands are practically unplottable. Love will make fix it half way; but the most powerful portal we know is-"
"Yes, Albus, I understand. It is death; it is leaving one world and entering another." She responded, almost as if she were to give up completely. "But a death; willingly given…Albus…it just cannot happen. We abandoned these magic's for a reason."
"But the spell is tied to the passing of a being is it not?" Albus asked her, all pretence of his friendly sparkle vanished.
"It is," she confirmed; sighing once more.
"You have your answer."
A knock on the door startled her, and she looked at the clock; wondering if she'd forgotten a meeting, only to find that it was still early morning.
"Come in!" She called, as Albus continued to stare her down knowingly. The doors handle shifted slightly, as if they were having a difficult time opening the door and self-consciously, her fingers gripped her wand warily. The door finally opened, and swung open to reveal Hagrid standing there, a silvery substance upon a rag, a grim expression over his giant features.
"Oh! Hagrid, come in, come in." She motioned, as the half-giant stumbled forwards. She looked at him fondly, knowing and liking the giant for his good heart, even if his lessons could be a little inappropriate.
"Yeh ought teh know Minerva; a unicorn has been slinkin' about the edges of teh forest. They don't usually do that. Keep to themselves they do. It's wounded." He finished, holding up the silver stained rag.
"Could it be the unicorn that gave its blood to us earlier?" She asked looking at the blood with concern.
"Nah, they heal too quick for it to be a real issue. This one is on its last legs." Hagrid mentioned and McGonagall's brow creased, thoughtfully. Her time in the wizarding world had taught her that every time humanity missed something; the animal world had picked up on it, and were working on fixing it or fleeing from it. She flicked her gaze up to Albus, who was looking at her with his sparkle back; but dread had seeped into the corners of her heart.
"Keep me updated Hagrid, let me know of its condition daily; do all you can for it. Don't try to capture it however." She warned him, as Hagrid bowed his head in understanding.
"Wouldn' dream of it." He replied, taking his dismissal and leaving. She watched him go, her heart heavy and she sighed once more. A death was needed to fix Hogwarts; a bridge between the oldest magics and the newer ones. A bridge between worlds. A bridge between things they would never understand. If a unicorn was preparing itself for death on the edges of her forest; her problem could be solved. The death sounded like it was being willingly given, but the idea of a mysterious creature famed for its purity; its strength of being so good turned her stomach. She felt strongly like they did not deserve the passing of such a creature. If the death wasn't for them however…
She fought back a retch, pushing the parchment away from her, unwilling to read of the muggle sacrifice any more.
:: :: ::
The four of them stood awkwardly outside of the room of requirement. Unwilling to throw insults, and unwilling to make idle conversation. Instead, furtive looks were thrown between the group, until Draco decided a statue looked unbelievably interesting and sauntered off to peer at the mans carved face as if it were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
Ginny had taken the opportunity to throw him curious, but ultimately confused glances; whilst Harry simply peered at him with a tormented expression on his face. Hermione tried to gloss away her vision of him on their sofa; her hand on his brow, his hand gripping her wrist. The memory of it sent her emotions into a confused twist.
They'd all offered to help clean the room of requirement, as after a gentle reminder from Harry, and the acceptance that students would always be 'students', and go searching for what they shouldn't, the room of requirement and it's deadly curse would have to be sorted out. Minerva had been practising the counter charm in her spare time; which wasn't much at all, and had requested help with brushing the debris out; due to the unlikelihood of the house-elves being able to enter a room that had to be summoned. Even then, McGonagall was happy to admit she simply didn't want to risk the house-elves.
Footsteps began to approach them, and almost in synchrony, their heads turned to view the approaching Headmistress. In front of her, were several cages, within them sets of gloves. She levitated it all over a rock; and placed it down in front of them; her flustered face taking in a deep breath.
"I am sorry for being late; but I forgot about the chance of Ashwinders." She explained, gesturing to the cages, and with drawing her wand. It was then that Hermione noted she had a set of dragon hide gloves on already, and she opened a cage, retrieving the gloves for them all, and placing them on top. She slipped her gloves on; noting Malfoy's steadily greying expression, his mouth becoming a determined grim set line.
With her own determined expression, McGonagall began the pacing in front of the wall, summoning the room of requirement.
"With any luck, it would have burnt itself out, but if not, and it tries to escape; slam the door shut. Do you understand?" She asked them, pulling her sleeves back, her wand in her hand and her stern expression pride of place. They nodded, shuffling to be behind the door as McGonagall reached to open it. A deep breath taken.
She opened the door.
The heat blistered out at once; but darkness loomed.
They peered, curiously about the door to view an utterly black room. Everything had been charred. Everything was destroyed. Not even a hint of ochre smoulder on a page was left.
"Open the windows please; we need to let some of this heat out of the castle before it kills us all." McGonagall said, as she lit the tip of her wand instead, casually flicking orbs of light upwards, illuminating the room. Harry and Ginny had split to each window, casting it open and hanging their heads out as the cool air from the outside began to blow through the corridor. They sauntered back, and McGongall seemed to have a relieved expression upon her face.
"It doesn't look like there will be much work to do at all, I suggest you hunt for ashwinders, and please keep the door open. Set up some mops to clean the place; all this ash will do no one good, and I'm not risking ashwinders. Then you can leave." She told them, as an owl spied McGonagall from outside, and swooped in to land on her shoulder, its leg instantly outstretched in waiting. She sighed, looking between the owl and the small group and back again, before sighing in apology. Taking the owl and rushing the way she'd came.
"She seems stressed." Ginny commented, as Draco snorted.
"You have no idea; her office is just parchment and owls." He told her, as Ginny looked startled, before narrowing her eyes. Hermione recognised the expression as her waiting for what she had; the insults, the baiting, teasing laughter. Harry gritted his teeth, tormented once more.
"Let's get to it then," Hermione announced as Ginny took the first steps into the room, her wand at the ready.
"Check the corners first, for Ashwinder eggs, I don't think we'll find any live ones," Ginny said absently, nudging a pile of ash carefully with her foot, her wand at the ready. They crumpled beneath her, and she gasped, spying the little round eggs. Freezing them at once, she took them out and placed them into a cage. "Or not," She commented casually as she strode back in, Malfoy's amused expression delicately ignored, as Harry scowled behind her, his green eyes flashing his confusion.
He deftly summoned a bucket and mop; demonstrating the house hold charms Molly had taught them back at the burrow with an ease Hermione admired, setting the mop loose on the corner had just evacuated of eggs, Hermione copied.
Draco watched them all tentatively, his pallor still a deathly grey as he walked into the room, his eyes on the floor searching it so desperately Hermione stopped looking for eggs. He searched the floor, gently nudging larger piles of ash carefully, his mouth set in a grim line.
"What are you looking for Malfoy?" Harry called over, his voice stern.
"Crabbe." He replied, and Harry turned from him, his jaw setting with shame, anger; and sheer confusion. Hermione shut her eyes, remembering the chimeras, dragons, and the serpent that had sprung from Crabbe's wand, decimating all in its path. How it had taken it's caster with it. Uncaring.
"I don't…I don't think you'll find him." Hermione said gently, watching as Malfoy nudged another pile of ash, watching it reveal Ashwinder eggs. He froze them, and turned to Hermione, his winter eyes as cold as the blizzard behind them.
"Obviously," he responded in a droll tone, carefully picking the eggs up and placing them in a cage Ginny had brought in. Grief began to mar his features, and silence fell upon the awkward group; the cleaning of the room of requirement efficient and smooth as no-one was willing to provoke the other.
They cleared the room of eggs, and began to sweep the ashes out of the room, thick; heavy piles that clouded the air and made their clothes black. Their wands shot cleaning charms with little problem, the water becoming dark the moment it hit the floor. Eventually; after hard work, the floor became its usual colour, and the layer of ash began to vanish.
"Right," Harry announced, charming a last mop to wash and turning his wand on himself, vanishing the soot on his hands and face, "I'm taking the eggs down to Hagrid, we're done here. I'll see you later Hermione, Ginny…Malfoy." He added on the end begrudgingly, his face twisting with torment as he said it.
"Later Potter." Draco replied, not looking up from his mop, the part of his floor still drenched with water.
"Give me a moment Harry, I'll come too," Ginny said, as she charmed another mop in her place, cleaning herself off with her wand the way Harry had done, and picked up a cage of eggs herself. The pair went, Ginny throwing a smile to Hermione, and nodding at Draco; a similar confused expression upon her face and followed Harry out.
Hermione and Draco stood in the room for a moment longer, before with a great sigh, Draco seemed to copy Harry's ritual. Charming another two mops on top of his one to make sure the room would be clean.
"I'm getting food Hermione, you're welcome to join." He said to her, his tone completely emotionless as Hermione began to absently copy the actions of those before her. Soon, several mops were wiping up the last dregs of ash, and Hermione and Draco were walking in silence down to the kitchens.
They walked, a distance between them through the corridors, Hermione's mind becoming drenched with guilt, recognising that she thought of Draco yet more when she shouldn't be. When she should be reading the books from Flourish and Blotts on the school, when she should be with Molly Weasley, when she should be putting the school back together.
Their footsteps fell into time with one another, until a staircase approached, and Draco suddenly grabbed her.
His arm twined about her waist, pulling her roughly against his chest, his hand coming to settle over her mouth. He pulled her into an alcove before she could register what was happening. She struggled to turn in his arms, wanting to face him so she could see her hatred of him. Against her wriggling, Draco loosened his grip slightly and she spun about facing him instantly. He tightened his arm once more; and her eyes widened, her mouth opening to shout at him as Ginny's distressed voice came to them both.
"…Harry, this is going beyond a joke, I swear, if something doesn't change; if you don't tell me what's wrong we're done." She threatened, a clanking sound following, and Hermione assumed she'd placed the cage down. Her eyes had widened, and she caught Draco's eyes, his silvery gaze upon hers; amusement sparkling there. He took his hand from her mouth, letting it fall to his side as her lips began to mouth nothing in particular, her ears straining for Harry's response. Her raven haired brother seemed to be struggling with something, sounds of him pacing starting up in the corridor to the side of them as Hermione realised just how herself and Draco were right then.
He hadn't loosened his arm about her waist, and she was pressed; tightly, right up against his solid chest. She recounted how hard she'd had to struggle to move around to face him, and a blush began to form. Her eyes were still on his, searching, curious, and winter like eyes; their gazes locked. His breath, sweet and faintly minty blew at the strands of hair that made her fringe, and the smell of earthy, fresh cut grass throbbed from his being, overwhelming her. Tentatively, she moved her arms up, placing her hands on his chest carefully, and pushing backwards so that her eyes could take in his expression. His sharp features, which gave him such a lethal beauty when angry, were somehow softened by the darkness of the alcove, but his features were schooled into a plain expression, registering nothing. Nothing but the fierceness of that stare.
"Marry me Ginny." Harry eventually said, and Hermione's jaw dropped, Draco's blond brows rising in surprise. They stared at each other in the darkness, unable to rip their gazes away from one another as Ginny seemed to laugh dryly.
"Oh how romantic." She said sarcastically, as Harry made a strangled like noise. "Oh Merlin. You're serious." She followed it up with, and Hermione's shock registered further, her fingers absently gripping at Draco's shirt; scrunching the fabric up. Draco didn't move, but the arm he'd allowed to fall moved, closing Hermione into his unconventional embrace still further, his hand sliding up her back in a slow delicious movement.
:: :: ::
He'd pulled her into the alcove the moment he'd realised she hadn't heard the first wails of the Weasley girl, and Potter's distraught retorts. She'd continued stepping towards the stairs as if nothing was going on, seemingly so lost in her own thoughts she was going to stumble onto one of the most important conversations in Potter and the Girls' relationship. He'd grabbed her waist, dragging her behind a large statue that had its own inset in the wall and pulled her against him, inwardly restraining the urge to bury his face in the smell of her hair. She'd not made a sound much to his surprise, but then the memories of knowing she was on the run returned to him, and he paled as she struggled against him.
Of course she wouldn't scream. She may be arrogant and blind to the obvious, but she wasn't exactly as thick as she could make out she was. His grip had loosened on her, and he thought she would run, but instead she'd spun about to face him. He stared at her, sinking into those chocolate brown eyes with such inquisitiveness behind them he felt like he could melt under her gaze. She was blushing; her peaches and cream complexion flushing in such a charming way Draco couldn't understand why he'd never noticed it before. Never realised she had such a sweet vanilla like scent that spread into all his senses, drowning him in a heady joy.
"Marry me Ginny." Potter said, every inch of seriousness, as Hermione's jaw dropped a little. He felt his own brows rise as the Weasley girl laughed, and he continued to look at Hermione, the dim light framing her jaw softly, highlighting her heart shaped face so alluringly he tried not to swallow. The Weasley girl was taunting Potter with his lack of romance, seemingly not realising that he was serious as Hermione's hands tangled themselves in the fabric of his shirt. He moved his arm in reply, watching her soft lips part in yet more shock as he slid his hand up her back, taking in the gentle build of her body, before entwining his hand in her hair at the base of her neck. Her mahogany curls imitation silk; the smell of vanilla over powering as he disturbed her bushy mane. Her blush had deepened, and Potter seemed to be talking again.
"Of course I'm serious. If you accept we can be engaged for as long as you want. I don't care, I just want you to be mine; for the rest of our lives."
"Why have you been so off with me?" The Weaselette was asking, and his attention was on the possible engagement of the two, but Hermione…Hermione was enchanting.
"We were back after the war, and there was no issue. Nothing to do; nothing to take you from me. All I wanted was you. I wanted to be around you all the time. I literally wanted to be the clingiest man. You're the best person in the world Ginny. The best thing to have ever happened to me. I didn't want to scare you off, but I don't know how to not be full on now. I can have you. I'd rather keep my distance and keep you, than be all over you and lose you." He explained, as Hermione's eyes softened; clearly wooed by the words Potter was saying, she seemed to fall for them as if it was her he was speaking to and not the redheaded girl. A tendril of jealousy began to snap at his ankle and he leaned over her slightly more. His fingers curling into her hair, rubbing against the base of her skull, pressing her to him slightly more.
She was just so soft.
Everything about her was soft, sweet, simple.
"Harry, I don't think you understand wizarding weddings are different to muggle ones, ancient magic binds you together; it's incredibly difficult to separate." Ginny was explaining to him gently, but he was fighting impulse to rest his forehead upon Hermione's only she had raised a questioning brow at him, and he nodded, the movement seeming to become difficult. He wished more than anything that the stone would take them. A medusa from legends old would look upon them; freeze them so that he could hold the intriguing girl within his arms forever.
"Let's get married then Potter." Ginny said, finally, as Harry had repeated he was sure over and over; just as he was sure that Hermione was growing on him in a way he had never expected.
"We'll get you a ring whenever you want one, you choose; any ring." Harry said as the scraping of cages being picked up off the floor was swiftly followed by jaunty footsteps down the corridor; out of earshot.
:: :: ::
The moment the voices stopped, and the footsteps vanished, he disentangled himself from her; fleeing the alcove taking his severe gaze with him. Breaking at a run down to the kitchens she assumed.
She slid slowly down the frozen stone wall, using it to cool her; to wish her beating heart into some semblance of stillness. Harry and Ginny were engaged, and wizarding marriages were difficult to leave. She thought briefly over her own future, realising she'd never really thought of a future career seriously. What was she going to do now that Voldemort had been killed, and her life didn't revolve about hoping she made it out of the war alive. She blinked, wondering if she even wanted what Harry had just signed up for with Ginny, and a silvery blond haired boy came to the front of her vision. She dismissed it immediately, thinking of all the jobs she could have if she wanted them; but cringed, realising that her future would have to be sorted out again, now she could legitimately dream of having one. Whatever she wanted.
She blinked at the knowledge, her hand snaking up to her chest and clutching her heart. Guilt and joy slipped into it, beating a fresh cool wave of blood about her body as she closed her eyes, resting her head against the stone. The smell of cut grass had gone, taken with Draco as he fled; and her thoughts began to clear. She hadn't expected to be in such an intimate position with Draco Malfoy ever, but her desire for it to happen again was building already, pushed out by the guilt swelling in her stomach.
All she was doing was thinking about Draco Malfoy.
He made her furious. Filled her with longing. Set fire to her senses.
He was managing something she was finding almost impossible. Pinpointing his flaws and fixing them efficiently. He wasn't actively provoking fights, but he was still provoking. Tonks and Lupin's funeral came into mind, as did his lazy verbal sparring with Ron after he'd been beaten by him. He was still managing to change. He was kind. He'd touched her. More than once. Their brief encounters had never been like this; pressed up against him, so close she could smell his breath. So close she could feel every line of muscle on his stomach. So close she could almost kiss him if she wanted. She blushed, deeply imagining the idea. Soon finding herself unable too. The idea was too far-fetched, even with the first born steps of their new relationship –whatever it was; blossoming.
The guilt broke its dam, and she thought of all the books she should be reading, the time she should be spending with Mrs Weasley, and her sons, with Ginny, and Harry. She should be doing everything other than spend so much time with a man who had haunted her dreams. Stood and watched while she was tortured.
She sighed, realising she was bringing up useless arguments. Things that couldn't be applied to the new person he was attempting to display now. She dragged herself to her feet; heading towards the front gates of the school; planning to apparate away and spend the next few days with the Weasley's.
To grieve.
To research.
To do anything but think of Draco.