Chapter 19 – Sleepless Nights
Hermione carefully slid the soft eagle feather into the vial, stoppered it, and stored it in her bag. Draco's offer to assist her had already shown one benefit at least. She tucked her bag at her side and allowed Draco to lead her out of the castle and past the gates. She could risk being seen leaving with Draco, everyone would just assume that they were attending Death Eater duties. Thankfully Draco had not realized she also left the castle on her own, she was not keen to show him Harry's passage.
"Where are we going?" Hermione asked, struggling to keep up with Draco's brisk pace. He had agreed to help, but it was clear that he wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. Part of her wanted to snap at him to just leave, but Hermione knew that finding Boomslang Skin would be difficult and it took long to brew correctly. At least that's what she told herself. She did not want to admit that she missed his company even if he was being abrupt with her. She was forced to be his wife, but he had somehow become her lover, friend, and confidant. But he had lied to her and ruined everything. You've lied to him too, a small voice in her head whispered. Hermione ignored the voice and focused on the task at hand.
"We are going to my Aunt Bellatrix's house," Draco said, when she had finally caught up. Hermione stopped in her tracks.
"You could have mentioned that sooner," Hermione replied. She wasn't necessarily afraid of Bellatrix, but going to the witch's lair was not on Hermione's list of places she wanted to visit.
"She won't be there," Draco responded. "She never is. Though I'll warn you the place is a dump, and she does have a peculiar intruder alert system."
"It sounds like nothing could possibly go wrong," Hermione replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Draco raised his eyebrows and continued as though she had not interrupted.
"You realize that Boomslang Skin is quite hard to come by?" He said. "Especially if you don't want people to know you have it. It's traded underground, bought with proper registration papers, or gathered from the source. If you happen to be a Potions Master like my mother or Snape, you'd have a regular dealer. But they both keep track of their inventory so they will know if any has gone missing. Bellatrix, on the other hand, is a bit of a hoarder, but she's too erratic to keep track of anything. Now, can we go?"
Hermione nodded and took the hand he offered. Her heart skipped a beat, and she cursed her own foolishness. She felt the familiar squeeze of apparition, before the stench hit her. She gagged, but held back a cough. Hermione looked around the dingy room.
It had old wood stove and a big dining table, so Hermione assumed it was meant to be the kitchen. But Bellatrix had covered the table with an assortment of weapons and other metal contraptions, most of them covered with the rusty stains of dried blood. Hermione grimaced and followed Draco out of the room and into the dimly lit hallway. Paintings hung askew on the wall, and spider webs hung from the ceiling. When they reached the stairs, Hermione saw that the railing was caked with dust.
If possible, the upper level was in even greater disarray. Furniture lay toppled over, clothes were spewed about, and the portrait on the wall had a dagger through the canvas, Hermione expected its occupant would not return. She pretended not to notice that Draco had kept looking over his shoulder to check on her. She was perfectly capable of doing this herself, Hermione thought indignantly.
The floor creaked beneath her weight, and Hermione stepped back hastily as the noise echoed through the house. Draco's hand had reached out to her automatically, but he snatched it back quickly, and shoved it in his pocket.
They entered Bellatrix's bedroom, and Hermione immediately noticed that the window was cover in barbed wire. There were mouse traps scattered all around the floor, and they had to tread slowly and carefully to avoid setting any off. Finally, they reached the closet. In place of clothing, Bellatrix's closet was filled with a variety of jars, boxes, and small objects. Hermione saw a small grey skull with maggots crawling around the eye holes and looked away quickly, her stomach turning.
"Got it," Draco announced, as he carefully pulled out a single piece of Boomslang Skin and tucked it way. "Let's get out of here." Hermione followed Draco out of the closet. Now that they had got what they had came for, Draco was moving much more briskly and she struggled to keep up with him while avoiding the traps scattered around the floor.
Hermione inhaled sharply as she narrowly avoided colliding with an overturned armchair. Draco craned his neck to look back at her, and Hermione saw him stumble, a curse word slipping out as he fell towards the window. Hermione's arm darted out, her hand fisting around the fabric of Draco's shirt. Draco's eyes were wide as his back hit the barbed wire on the window. He cursed again and Hermione tightened her hold. He managed to balance himself, but his shirt was caught.
"Stay still," Hermione commanded, letting go of the fistful of shirt she held. She could see scratch marks on his neck from where the wire had hit him. Hermione shimmied around him in the tight space, careful to avoid any more mouse traps. She took a deep breath, the scent of Draco's cologne calming and familiar, and then she carefully untangled his shirt. He was shaking slightly, from holding himself still for too long, and his hands were clenched. Once the fabric was free, Hermione put her hand on Draco's back, signaling to him that he could move again. His back flexed under her touch, and Hermione fought the urge to pull her hand away.
She looked up and found him staring at her intently. She had felt his eyes on her the entire time she had worked on his shirt, and now she felt the full intensity of it. All of a sudden his hand cupped her neck and he kissed her fiercely. Hermione's hands clenched the front of his shirt of their own accord, pulling him as close to her as possible, as his lips continued to move against hers. Hermione was surprised when Draco pulled away first, and took a shaky breath. In that moment there was nowhere else she'd rather be. She tried to remember why she was mad at him. Why had she ended things when it had been going so well? Harry, Hermione remembered, how could she have forgotten?
"We should go," he said, his voice raspy. Hermione nodded and tried to compose herself, when all she wanted to do was kiss him again.
As she followed him out, more carefully this time, Hermione's thoughts wandered to Harry. Was she really mad at Draco for ruining her opportunity to join them on the hunt for Horcruxes? She wanted to believe that was all it was. But a little voice kept nagging her. She wondered if she would even be able to leave Draco and his family at this point. No doubt Voldemort would kill them over her betrayal. It finally dawned on Hermione that the real reason she might be angry was that Draco had lied to her. For a moment he had been the only person in the world on her side, until he wasn't.
Draco could barely hear over the thudding of his heart, and was grateful that his aunt seldom stayed at her house. He was not being nearly as carefully as he should be, and his constant glances back at Hermione had cost him. His neck and back still stung from the wire, but the pain was well worth the moment of pleasure that had come with it. It felt like months since they'd last been together, rather than weeks. But Draco knew it was not going to be so easy to get earn Hermione's trust back. Especially when he was not willing to make any sacrifices to give her either of the things she wanted. Joining Potter was not an option without sacrificing his parents, and he refused to become a spy. He had given the second option more thought since their quarrel, but it was still an idea he could not stomach.
Draco flinched as the backdoor groaned under his touch. He heard Hermione's inhale of breath behind him, followed a moment later by the whosh of her exhale on his back. He held the door open, helping her over the jagged stone step. He was drawn to the smooth feel of her skin, and held on a moment too long, causing her to pull away.
"It smells so much better out here," Hermione said in a clear attempt to break the awkward silence that had fallen over them since their kiss. Draco tried to smile, but it was fruitless. With Hermione standing there in the moonlight and the breeze causing her curls to sway, he was painfully reminded of everything he was missing. He never imagined his feelings for her would grow to be anything other than disdain.
"We'd best be getting back," he said, offering her his arm. As much as he missed her, he was eager to get away from her and the awkwardness that they had become. Her guard had gone up, and so had his. He could no longer laugh with her or share his thoughts and stories. The girl he wanted was right in front of him, yet so far away.
She took his arm, her touch firm and impersonal, unlike moments ago when she had been desperately pulling his body closer to hers. Draco felt the dizzying sensation that he had grown accustomed to, and then opened his eyes to find them back at Hogsmeade, right outside the Hog's Head. Suddenly deciding that he needed a drink, he veered in that direction.
"I'm stopping for a nightcap," he said. He meant in to be a brush off, but his manners made a rare appearance, "would you care to join me?" Hermione looked up at the bar and for some reason her face took on a melancholic expression. She shook her head, bade him goodnight and turned toward the castle.
Draco watched her make her way up the path, until she reached to gates of the castle and was swallowed by darkness. She had not looked back once. Draco turned into the bar, and ordered a double shot of fire whiskey.
Hermione rubbed her eyes and held back a yawn. She could not remember the last time she'd had a full night's sleep. Both Moody and Voldemort had been demanding her presence to discuss the impending Muggleborn Testing. She had not even had time to work on the antidote to her Marriage Vow since she and Draco had ventured to Bellatrix's house.
She pulled back the curtains on her four-poster, and glanced at her still sleeping roommates with envy. The sun had yet to rise, but Moody insisted that they meet before the Testing began after breakfast that morning. Hermione was starting to feel like she was dealing with children. Every time Voldemort called her for a meeting, Moody would too. As she stepped into the shower and the hot stream of water woke up her groggy brain, she recalled the events of her meeting last night.
"The Dark Lord is in my study," Lucius said, in place of a greeting. Hermione nodded and headed there without another word. She was not sure if Draco had told his parents what was going on between them, but she was avoiding them either way. She pushed the study door open with some hesitation. She hated these private meetings with Voldemort, even though it signified that she had moved up the ranks. As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, she was overwhelmed by the weight of Dark Magic that always lingered in his presence. It made Hermione's chest constrict and a wave of nausea rolled through her. She went around the desk to kiss the hem of his robes, causing the nausea to intensify.
"Have a seat, Hermione" Voldemort said. "My faithful servants have detected several other candidates who have been deemed…unfit to study at Hogwarts. I have the list here," he indicated a scroll of parchment on the desk and Hermione looked through it. Some of the names were familiar to her, as members of the D.A. It seemed careless of Voldemort to dismiss them from Hogwarts with no way of tracking them. Hermione said so and a devious smile crossed the Dark Lord's face.
"The students will be stripped of their belongings and any magic on their being will be removed. They will then be given a portkey to an unknown location and left to fend for themselves as Muggles in the Muggle community. What are your thoughts on the plan?"
"It's very impressive, my Lord," Hermione replied.
"Come now, Hermione," he said, "I've heard you are a witch that speaks her mind. No need to be so demure." Hermione forced a smile to her lips.
"Truly, I think it's an excellent plan," Hermione reiterated. "If the Muggleborns were left with their belongings they would still have connections to the Wizarding community, but this way they are truly shunned and forced to face the reality of their new lives."
"You were once a Muggleborn," Voldemort said, watching her carefully. "You do not think shunning them from their friends and family is not too harsh. Their only crime is attempting to hold a birthright that is not theirs to possess."
"I hope you will forgive me for saying so, my Lord, but I think you are being quite generous," Hermione replied. "If they were allowed to return home with their belongings they would always be tempted by our world. It would hand over their heads like a constant shadow. Leaving them to start anew, allows them to be fully immersed in the Muggle world. Their memories of magic will fade away, as if it never happened."
"You are wise beyond your years, Hermione," Voldemort said, "although I do feel you are not solely talking about the plan at hand." His gaze was intense, and Hermione felt the energy in the room change. For a moment , he allowed her a glimpse into his mind. He showed her a single memory of the first time they met, when he had forced himself into her mind and saw her tear up the photo of her with Harry and Ron.
Hermione kept his gaze as she returned to the present. "Sometimes a clean break is for the best," she said quietly.
"I could not agree more. Goodnight Mrs. Malfoy," he said dismissing her. Her new last name echoed in her ears as she left the study. It was his way of reminding her who she had become.
"And these are all the students he wants to fail?" Moody asked her again. "You're sure he isn't onto our plans? Why would he allow trained Wizards and Witches to be out of his control?"
"He plans on deporting them on the spot," Hermione explained. "After the testing is complete, students who have failed will have their wands destroyed and be given a portkey. They won't be allowed to bring any belongings, so they will pretty much be stranded there. The ministry has decided to keep no records of who is assigned which portkey, so it will be as if they are actually erasing them from our world.
"Why not erase their memories them?" Moody questioned her. "If he really wanted to eliminate the threat, he would have given them new lives and identities. They would never even be aware of our world." Hermione shuddered at Moody's idea, and was grateful that they were on the same side.
"That was discussed earlier on, I believe," Hermione said, "but I think the Death Eaters were too keen on them being haunted by the memory. I recall someone saying that not knowing was more than they deserved."
"Alastor, we have enough problems to deal with, without thinking about how the Dark Lord could have done worse," McGonagall said irately. "If they are keeping no records of which student gets which portkey, we will have no idea of where they end up. Our recruits may end up on the other side of the planet!"
"That is a problem," Moody conceded. "And they will be stripped of all belongings?"
"Yes," Hermione answered, "even their clothing. They will each be given Muggle clothing to wear at the time." The sat in near silence, only breaking it to offer and dismiss ideas.
"We have gone through all this trouble to find a discreet place to house and train recruits and it will all have been for naught," McGonagall said in frustration, casting a stern look at the sleeping portrait of Professor Dumbledore.
"Well, it's not as if they would be much use without wands," Hermione commented. Moody and McGonagall shared a look, and caught Hermione's attention at once. "Or have you found a way to get them wands after all? Has Ollivander finally agreed?"
"No, he hasn't," McGonagall explained, "Remus found a Brazilian wand maker whose niece attended Hogwarts. His mother was a Muggleborn so he was partial to our cause, and has agreed to come and fit them all for wands early in July."
"That gives us a little time then," Hermione said. "I've had one idea, although I'll warn you it is far from fool proof."
"Well, what is it?" Moody snapped.
"All the students will be stripped of any magical belongings and any spells placed on them. So I don't think magic is the answer to this problem. All the students are Muggleborn so they should know how to use Muggle technology. If we get a telephone where they can contact us, then they can memorize the number and call us. We can send someone to pick them up wherever they are."
"But they won't have these tele-phones," Moody said.
"That's the catch, until they find one they will be on their own," Hermione said. "If they end up in the middle of nowhere it would be a problem."
"What about the younger students? They might not be able to memorize a telephone number?" McGonagall asked.
"This is strictly for the recruits, Minerva," Moody said gruffly, "I don't want to leave a trail for the Death Eaters to pick up."
"Alastor, some of these students are first-years," McGonagall said, rising to her feet. "As Headmistress of Hogwarts, I will not allow them to be overlooked!" Moody regarded her stubbornly.
"Why don't we give them another number to memorize?" Hermione suggested. They might not remember, but those who do will be able to get to safety. I'll keep a list of all the students, so we can contact their families. Actually, we should tell them to call their parents, they will probably remember their own phone numbers." Hermione was pleased at finding this detail that Voldemort overlooked.
"I'll have a trusted upper year student in each house talk to those being tested," McGonagall said.
"Fine," Moody snapped, as he headed toward the fireplace, "but be discreet." With a swish of his cloak he disappeared into the green flames.
Hermione stepped back as a blue flamingo trotted past her and into the Entrance Hall. She wasn't exactly sure how a fifth year could mess up a simple Transfiguration spell that badly. The student in question chased after the bird and Hermione rolled her eyes. The Ministry 'representatives' who had turned up were mostly Death Eaters in disguise, and they were clearly enjoying the distress around them.
The flamingo was the least of the week's issues. Five first years had begun to cry before their examination started. Eight students had been sent to the Hospital wing. The house banners had caught fire twice and someone shattered one of the Great Hall windows.
At the end of each day, students were called back in to receive their results. All the students who had failed were forced to watch as their wands were collected, snapped, and then burnt. Now the tears started in earnest. The Ministry Officials would check each student and confiscate any personal effects. Then they were given pieces of mismatched Muggle clothing to change into. Then the students would disappear as the portkeys took them to their predetermined location. After the first day, Hermione chose to busy herself with paperwork at this time, because she could not bear to see the looks of terror that surrounded her, knowing how easily it could have been her in their place. Each night she left the hall physically and emotionally exhausted, and eager to escape the acrid smell of smoke.
Thursday morning was the last Testing day. Hermione was not sure if relief was the right word to describe what she felt. It was the last day, but also the hardest. Sixth and seventh year testing would occur and that was where all Moody's recruits were. Hermione expected to be the first into the Common Room that morning and was hoping to get a little more studying done for her N.E. , but when she arrived she found Dean already there accompanied by Neville.
An hour later, without having actually accomplished any studying, she greeted the Ministry Officials and took her usual post at the door as testing commenced. Hermione was unsurprised when the first loud bang occurred. She glanced over at the six year who had turned beet red as all eyes in the hall turned to her. The cabinet she had been attempting to charm had exploded into a whirl of fluffy white feathers.
Hermione was surprised that this was one of the students Moody was looking to recruit. The girl made a show of it and eventually did manage to transform the feathers back into a cabinet, but the examiner looked unimpressed. Hermione, however, was extremely impressed at how realistically the girl had failed. She had done well in all the practice sessions, Hermione recalled, so she was failing on purpose as Moody had no doubt instructed her to do. The girl, Penelope, Hermione thought her name was, even had a sheen of sweat on her brow.
Hermione wondered if she played her own role as convincingly. Everyone seemed to be deceived by her newfound love of the Dark Arts. The only one who was ever suspicious of her true intentions had been Draco. Not for the first time, she wondered what Harry and Ron would think of who she had become. She had blamed Draco for lying to her about them coming to find her, but Hermione had to admit that if they truly wanted to find her they would have. Perhaps they believed she really had betrayed them. Hermione wondered how many others she had deceived so well, and small part of her brain questioned if she was fooling herself.
Draco leaned back inhaling the woodsy scent of the fire burning in the Common Room grate and Pansy's spicy perfume. The combined scents were intoxicating, at least to Draco's alcohol ridden brain. From her perch on his lap, Pansy leaned forward to pour him another glass, pushing her rear into lap as she did so.
Pansy gazed into his eyes as he drank deeply, savoring the burn of the whiskey and the intensity of her stare. He was not aroused yet, but it would not take long. He tried to recall if Hermione had ever sat on his lap like this. The only memory that came to mind was the glow of the firelight on her skin the night of their interview with Rita Skeeter. She had barely touched him, but her affect was far more potent than Pansy's he thought grudgingly.
"If you're tired of that," Pansy said, indicating the bottle with her chin, "I have a bottle of spiced mead in my room. We could take the party upstairs?" She was leaning in close enough to brush her cheek against his, and did not hesitate from doing so. Draco paused for a moment, the memory of Hermione's face broken in betrayal fresh in his mind, but she had wanted a divorce he reminded himself. Draco took another long swig contemplating Pansy's offer. He was about to decline, when a throat cleared behind them.
"Isn't this a cozy sight," Blaise said quietly. His eyes were locked on Pansy's and he looked furious at his fiancé. Pansy stared defiantly back, purposely stroking Draco's chest as she did so.
"Actually, it's a little stiff down here," Pansy smirked, "we were just about to head upstairs." Draco noticed Blaise's clenched jaw, and wanted nothing more than to abandon the two of them. Pansy slid off his lap, making no attempt to hide her thighs as her skirt rode up. She looked at Draco pointedly, but he remained in his seat, not wanting to be caught up in their argument.
"I'm surprised you're not down at the testing," Blaise said smirking now that Pansy had been rejected.
"Hermione is perfectly capable of handling some underage Mudbloods," Draco said trying to maintain his composure. All of a sudden the severity of his actions sunk in. He could not afford for anyone to suspect their relationship issues, not even Blaise. He checked his watch in an attempt at normalcy. "Actually, they should be finishing up soon, so I'm off to meet her."
The moment Draco was out of the Common Room, his trademark smirk fell off his face and was replaced with a scowl. Blaise was becoming unbearable. First flirting with her and now questioning him. His first concern should have been to make their relationship believable, and now he was too busy worrying about she was up to. The trace on her had been removed with their marriage. If she wanted to leave, she was free to do so, and he would face the consequences of her actions.
When Draco reached the Entrance Hall, students were already filing out. They all looked horrified, and many were clutching their wands protectively. He suspected these were the few who survived the testing. On a whim he conjured a rose with a flourish obvious enough to catch some attention. He convinced himself that the gesture would prevent suspicion, but his mind wandered to the time he'd made love to her in the green house at the Manor, the air thick with the scent of roses.
"Hmm," Hermione hummed, as Draco slid hands down her arms and around her waist. He pressed his lips to her neck, lingering long enough for her to feel the brush of his tongue, before moving to her ear. His hands had travelled lower, brushing over the soft skin of her thighs and lifting the hem of her skirt.
"Draco…" she breathed, stilling his hands with her own, "I'm supposed to finish the potion." Her voice held no conviction, so Draco continued to rub his hands over her. Her head dropped back onto his shoulder, and her rear nestled against him. He suppressed a groan as he rubbed himself against her. For a moment, the only sound was their heavy breathing, until the cauldron began to smoke.
Draco cursed, pulling out his wand quickly to set it right. He murmured another incantation to freeze the potion at its current state. "Impressive," Hermione said, turning to face him once her potion was settled.
"You should see my other talents," he quipped, brushing a stray hair from her face.
"Why don't I show you some of mine?" Hermione asked. Her hand brushed down his chest, followed slowly by her lips. She undid each of his buttons following each with a kiss that left Draco gripping the sides of the worktable.
Draco was pulled abruptly from his thoughts as the object of his fantasy left the Great Hall. It did not take long to reach her and still wrapped up in his daydream, Draco swept her into a deep kiss. He could see the surprise on her face when he pulled away, and felt a twinge of regret.
"We don't want to make people suspicious," he explained in a whisper, and handed her the rose. Her eyes widened, and for the first time Draco noticed the exhaustion in them. The testing had run her ragged.
"No, we wouldn't want that," Hermione replied, her voiced seemed sad, but still cold somehow. She pecked his cheek, and walked away, leaving him in the Entrance Hall.
Hermione's mind was reeling as she walked away from Draco. For what felt like the hundredth time, she wondered if she was making a mistake walking away from him. She still had feelings for him, and the look in his eyes right before he kissed her made her sure he did too. But the signals always seemed so mixed up. One moment he was kissing her, and the next he's giving her a rose – one of the ingredients for their potion.
Her head already felt like lead from a week with very little sleep, and now Hermione had one more thing to think about. As she entered the library, she decided to put her issues with Draco out of mind. She had hardly studied for her N.E. and she had her first exam on Monday. She expected she would spend most of the weekend in the library pouring over her detailed notes. She found a quiet spot near the restricted section where she was sure no one would bother her, and despite her massive headache, she began to study.
A shark poke in the back woke Hermione, and she sat up immediately alert. She turned to find a disgruntled Ministry Official.
"It's past closing," he snapped at her. Hermione noted the darkened skyline outside and suppressed a groan. She had lost so much valuable study time.
"I'm going," she replied, hastily shoving books and parchment into her bag.
"You aren't going anywhere, Missy," He growled at her, grabbing hold of her arm. "You broke library policy. I'm taking you to Professor Carrow so you can serve the punishment."
"Excuse me," Hermione asked, putting on her best Malfoy airs. She yanked her arm out of his grip. "I'm not quite sure you understand the situation." The Official looked shocked at her outburst, but his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
"I don't want to hear excuses," he said, making to grab her arm again, "Professor Carrow deals with all disciplinary matters. You can take it up with him."
"And who does he report to?" Hermione sneered. She brushed her band over her left forearm, where the Dark Mark would be if she had one. The man glanced down and then back at her face.
"Who are you to think you can speak to a Ministry Official in that tone?" He asked, but his tone had become less accusatory and more cautious.
"Hermione Malfoy," she said.
"I'll let it slide this time," the Official conceded, "but don't let me catch you here after hours again."
"I'll let your attitude slide this time," Hermione retorted, "but if you speak to me like that again, you will face consequences much worse than those of Professor Carrow. Good evening, Sir." With that, Hermione turned on her heel and left the Official standing flabbergasted in her wake.
As Hermione crawled into bed, she still could not believe she had pulled it off. Having the Malfoy name had come in handy. Hermione thought about their potion again. She had hit a roadblock, and now after losing hours worth of studying she decided it could wait until she finished her N.E. . Her eyes had drifted shut and before she could give it further thought, she was once again fast asleep.
Coming up in Till Death Do Us Part:
"Morsmordre." Hermione watched her handiwork as the Dark Mark bore down upon the village, before she vanished with a swish of her cloak.