Chapter 23 - I don't know
The evening before classes resume, Neville returns from his Easter visit to his Gran's house. After a quick reunion snogging session up in their dorm, he and Theo head down to dinner, while Theo catches him up on the twists and turns in the events of the past week.
He tells him about what he saw in the crystal ball – the farmhouse, the sword, the crown – at a whisper, their heads bent together against the noise in the Great Hall.
After dinner, they go up to the Room of Requirement.
"An eagle… and blue…" Neville muses. "Does that sound like Ravenclaw to you?"
"Yes," Theo says briskly as they reach the expanse of wall concealing the entrance to the Room. "I'm hoping it isn't actually. Or maybe I am. I don't know anymore."
"Yeah," Neville nods. "I wish there was someone who could just tell us the answers."
"Yeah," Theo agrees.
Neville touches his hand to the back of Theo's in a show of sympathy. "Okay. We need to tell the Room what we want."
Theo squares his stance in front of the wall. "I want you to become the room with all the stuff."
"All the stuff?"
"I don't know!"
"Okay," Neville laughs lightly. "Now we need to walk past three times."
They do, and on the third walk past, Theo whirls around to find the door, just as he remembers it. His heart jumps into his ears.
Neville grabs the door handle, and catching Theo's trepidation, steps through first.
"I guess those were the right instructions," Neville quips.
Before them, the Room is filled with mountains of things, immediately recognisable as what they saw before with Draco and Hermione. Theo pauses in the doorway, unable to resist taking a moment to wonder at the vastness and randomness of it. So much magic, so much history, so many things.
"So where was this crown?" Neville asks, reminding Theo what they're doing there.
"Oh, over here," Theo says, heading confidently towards it. He remembers exactly where it was. He can see it as clearly in his mind as he can in the reality of the room.
Up close, the crown is even more beautiful than it was in his memory or in his crystal vision. It sparkles, even in the dull, diffuse light of the Room. The blue stone is shockingly sharply cut and nearly transparent in its clarity.
And the carving of the eagle is unmistakable as the emblem of Ravenclaw.
Theo reaches for it and Neville yanks his hand away.
"I don't like it," Neville declares. "There's something off about it."
"How d'you mean?" Theo murmurs, unable to take his eyes off the shining crown.
"It's creepy," Neville says. "It has like a weird… energy or something. Don't you feel that?"
"I like it," Theo says, reaching for it over Neville's protestations.
The metal is warmer than he would have expected, the same temperature as his skin. Neville's right, it does have an energy to it. Theo can almost feel it pulsing under his grip, like it's alive.
It's not creepy though. Not at all. It's special. Magical. Theo likes it. He likes it a lot.
"I'm going to take it with me," he says.
"What? No," Neville interrupts. "Theo, it's doing something to you. Put it back."
"But I want it. And I was sent here by a vision. It's like it wants me to have it. It's basically mine," Theo reasons.
"No, Theo, put it back," Neville says, his voice rising in pitch and urgency. "It has to stay here."
"Don't you think it's beautiful?" Theo asks, a bit of hurt creeping into his tone. Why isn't Neville happy for him?
"I think it's cursed," Neville says. "You need to put it down now, Theo."
"No, it's not cursed, it's lovely," Theo argues. "And I think I was meant to find it. I need to protect it."
There is silence for a few seconds while Theo examines the crown. It's fate that he found it, it has to be. It needs him. It's important, like the sword and the cup. But it's different. The sword is strong already. He doesn't know about the cup, but the crown… it's like a fragile little bird, its heart beating in his hands. He needs to keep it safe.
"Can I hold it?" Neville asks quietly. Theo had almost forgotten that he was there. "I want to feel how nice it is. We can protect it together, maybe."
Theo's not sure he can trust Neville with the crown. He doesn't know it like Theo knows it. He doesn't love it.
But that's silly. Neville is Theo's favourite person. And he trusts him with everything. Maybe he just needs to hold the crown to love it as much as Theo does. Then he'll know how special it is and they can take care of it together.
He doesn't want to let it go. But as Neville wraps his hands around the other side of the crown, overlapping with Theo's fingers, and gently eases the crown into his grip, Theo finds it easier and easier to let go.
He even manages to tear his eyes away from the crown for long enough to look at Neville. He wants to watch Neville's face when he realises how special and perfect the crown is.
Instead, Neville looks revolted, his face twisted up in disgust.
"No, no, no it's horrible," he whispers. "I can't —"
"Then give it back to me," Theo says sharply. "I can protect it on my own."
"No! Don't you see how it's manipulating you? This thing is vile."
"HEY!" Theo yells. "Don't talk about it like that! And give it back!"
He reaches for the crown, but Neville whirls around, moving it out of Theo's reach. Theo jumps around trying to grab it, but Neville keeps swirling away.
"No!" Theo cries. "It's not yours, give it back!"
Theo jumps on Neville's back and finally manages to get a hand around a piece of the crown, his fingers gripping tightly to the eagle carving. He tugs.
But Neville holds tight and Theo puts more weight on him, tackling Neville to the ground. He pulls hard on the crown and finally manages to release it from Neville's hold, but it takes so much effort that he loses his grip on the crown too, and it goes flying across the room, crashing against a pile of old books.
The moment the crown hits the ground, Theo regains his sense of reality.
"Fuck," he mutters. "That was weird."
"I'll say," Neville says drily, disentangling his limbs from Theo's and sitting up.
"Oh Merlin, your nose!" Theo groans. It's bleeding. "I'm sorry. Shit, Nev, I'm so sorry." He takes a closer look, fussing over him.
"I'm fine," Neville insists. "I'm just glad that thing has lost its hold on you."
"But you're bleeding! Do you trust me with an episkey?"
"Sure," Neville nods, the movement of his head causing even more blood to dribble out.
Theo rushes to fix his nose and clean up the blood, then flops over onto his back lying on the floor. Neville joins him and they both pointedly avoid looking anywhere near the crown.
"What was it like?" Neville asks.
"I dunno… I just really liked it and wanted it. It seemed like it was meant for me. And I don't know, it was like it had a heartbeat or something, like a little creature. I felt like I needed to protect it from something."
"Hm," Neville says. "I felt that too, the heartbeat thing. But I also heard screaming. Like people being tortured."
"Oh. That — that must have been awful. I'm sorry." Theo reaches for Neville's hand and squeezes. Neville squeezes back.
"I wonder why we had such different reactions?" Neville muses.
"I don't know," Theo says. "That thing is seriously cursed."
"Maybe that's part of it… Trying to pit us against each other?"
"Maybe… I wish I knew why it came up in my vision. Or why I keep coming across these house-related objects."
"You could ask Professor Dumbledore," Neville suggests. "He knew about the cup."
"I could," Theo agrees. "But would he even tell me anything?"
"Hm," Neville frowns, stumped.
They lie like that in the Room of Requirement, amid the piles of junk for a long while, lost in their own thoughts.
"You know," Theo says eventually. "It's okay if you're not fine sometimes."
"What do you mean?"
"You're always supporting me, and being so strong. Which I love. And appreciate, so much. But I'm just saying, it's okay if you're not fine." Theo presses his foot to the side of Neville's leg and circles his thumb around his palm. "You had to hear the screams of people being tortured today. I know how hard that must be for you. And you saw me lose my mind a little bit. And you got knocked to the ground by your boyfriend. None of that's okay. So, it's okay if you're not okay with it."
"Okay," Neville says, then groans. "That's not what I meant. But… today was scary, I guess. I don't — I don't want to dwell on it though. I just want to move forward."
Theo sighs, then rolls onto his side so he can give Neville a kiss. He lets the kiss linger for a moment, allowing himself to sink into the distraction and pleasure of it. Neville meets his lips eagerly.
"So what are we going to do about it?" Theo sighs when he reluctantly breaks the kiss.
"Leave it," Neville answers instantly. "Neither of us should ever touch that thing again — you especially."
Theo nods.
"And then look up if there's some sort of famous crown linked to Ravenclaw. And maybe ask Dumbledore about it at some point," Neville continues.
"Okay," Theo says, standing up. "Thanks for coming with me. I'm sorry for all of it."
"Not your fault," Neville says, taking Theo's proffered hand. "Let's get out of here."
Hermione knows a lot about Draco Malfoy.
She knows he has a violent streak. He always has, and she's always known.
She knows he trapped her against a wall. She knows she was scared.
She knows he used the imperius curse on Katie Bell and at least one other person.
She knows he's spent most of the year planning a murder.
She knows he put Ron in the hospital barely a month ago.
She knows he has a Dark Mark branded onto his wrist.
She knows that, back at the beginning, he wanted her as a trophy, as a way of winning against Harry and Ron.
And also.
She knows he's scared. She knows he didn't want to become a Death Eater. That he had no choice, as he always says. She knows he's perhaps not as prejudiced against muggleborns as people think. She knows what his lips taste like. She knows what his voice sounds like, whispered low in her ear. She knows how safe she feels in his arms and how much she likes talking to him and how he makes her laugh. She knows how sometimes late at night she would stay up imagining a future where they were together and everything was alright.
She thought she knew all that.
But what if she doesn't?
What if Draco has been trying to distract her or drive a wedge between her and Harry or find out information or do any number of horrible, Death Eater things? Or what if it was about the game, all this time? Manipulating her until she slept with him and then bragging about it and torturing Harry with it?
Because the Draco Malfoy she thought she knew wouldn't cast a crucio as part of a schoolboy fight. He would use dark magic when he needs to, yes, when he has no choice, but not because he wants to. He wouldn't want to.
But he would want to, wouldn't he? Or would he?
Hermione finds that somehow, despite all that she knows, she doesn't really know anything at all.
She visits him in the hospital on the morning before classes start again after the holiday. She brings a small pile of toast and a cup of tea from the Great Hall and sits in a chair next to his bed, watching him breathe.
He's unconscious still, and likely to remain so for several more days. He's quite pale and bandaged up. But he's breathing.
Madam Pomfrey says the blood replenishing potions are doing their work, as is the salve that is fusing his skin back together where it was ripped apart. If she wonders why Hermione Granger, muggleborn and best friend to Harry Potter, is spending most of her free time at Draco Malfoy's bedside, she doesn't ask. She doesn't ask either, about the mark on his arm.
Hermione's not entirely sure why she's here. Maybe she hopes she'll get some answers from watching him. It makes no sense, but perhaps he can tell her something while he's asleep that he couldn't when he was awake.
She's only there for a few minutes when Pansy arrives, her shoes tapping loudly against the cold linoleum of the hospital wing floor.
"Still asleep I suppose?" she asks idly, pulling up a chair next to Hermione. She grabs Draco's hand immediately, something Hermione had been scared to do.
"Yes," Hermione replies. "Madam Pomfrey said it could be a few days still."
"Potter really did a number on you, didn't he Draco?" Pansy murmurs, still focused on her friend. "Tell me again what happened, Granger."
"They got into a fight," Hermione explains wearily. "Harry tried a curse without knowing what it did."
"More," Pansy demands. "What was the fight about?"
"The usual, I guess," Hermione hedges. "You know how those two are…" Pansy raises an eyebrow at her. "And, well, me, I suppose."
"Hm," Pansy nods. "What else? There's something you're not telling me."
Hermione sighs. It would be nice to tell someone, to talk about it with someone who knows Draco, loathe as she is to talk about it at all.
"Harry said that when he used the curse, he was blocking a crucio."
"Ah," Pansy says. "You idiot," she murmurs to Draco. "Can never just make things easy for yourself, can you?"
"I don't know what to think," Hermione confesses. "I didn't think he would use a curse like that. Especially not without a good reason."
"You're that surprised?" Pansy asks evenly.
"I don't know," Hermione says again. "I don't want to imagine that I could ever lo— have feelings for someone who could do something like that. And I knew already that he's used imperio, and he was planning to use… the third one, when the time came. But I mean, unforgivable curses should be, well, unforgivable. Shouldn't they?"
She looks expectantly at Pansy, who continues to study Draco's unconscious form.
"I would still love Draco even if he crucioed a thousand people," Pansy says quietly. "He's my family."
"But what if it was someone you loved? What if he tried to crucio Millie?"
Pansy shudders, her face twisting in pain at the mere thought. "I would hate him," she says. "But that doesn't mean I'd stop loving him."
Hermione marvels for a moment at Pansy's ability to effortlessly hold contradictions in her mind. For Pansy, it seems this isn't difficult — love and hate can just go together. Hermione has always preferred clean, easy answers. Needed them, really.
She shifts around in her chair. "There's something else as well," she says, twisting her fingers around the sleeves of her robes. "When they were fighting, Harry said Draco was bragging…about me and, erm, that we — the night before…"
"I knew it," Pansy smirks.
"Well, yes," Hermione says. "But now… Anyway, he was bragging about it. And way back months ago, he said something about how he wanted to be with me because it would be like winning against Harry and Ron, and — I just. What if that's all he wanted?"
"He went through a lot of trouble for you Granger, I'm quite sure that's not all he wanted."
"But I thought he was past that, that things had changed. That he'd changed. But between that and the crucio… What if he's just the violent, mean bully I always thought he was?"
"So what if he is?" Pansy challenges her. "What if he is a violent bully? Does that mean he can't also be a good friend, or a good boyfriend, or stand on the right side of your cause, or whatever? Why does he have to be only good or bad? Because honestly Granger, I'm not sure anyone is."
"I'm not saying he has to be perfect… but it just seems like, if I were to look at it objectively, that unforgivable curses and talking about me like I'm some sort of trophy is over the line. I would tell any other girl that she shouldn't stay with him."
"But you're not objective. And you're not any other girl." Pansy sighs. "I'm not here to make your decision for you, and I understand what you're saying. Honestly though, the poor boy's unconscious. Can't you at least wait and talk to him when he wakes up?"
"No, that's the problem," Hermione protests. "If he's awake and talking to me and looking at me… I'm worried I would just do whatever he wants. It's happened before. He's just so hard to say no to."
Pansy snorts. "I think that's a you problem. I say no to him all the time. But," she says, her tone turning worried, "did you ever do anything you didn't want to?"
Hermione shakes her head. "No, but it's not really a question of want. Of course I want him. But people want lots of things that are bad for them."
Pansy just leans over her and strokes Draco's hair, pushing it back off his face.
"He is who he is," she says. "You've always known that."
"I know," Hermione says.
"And frankly, he's the one in the hospital bed. Potter walked away fine."
"I know that too," she says. "But I've been thinking about it for days. This can't work. And it's not just about the crucio. It's the whole thing. I can't be on his team and Harry's at the same time. And he's planning to commit murder, Pansy. Whatever side he says he's on, he's still working for the wrong one. And the way I feel is one thing, but it's not about that, in the end, is it? I've been crazy and distracted and all messed up, all year. I can't be doing that anymore. I can't do this anymore, I just can't. It's all wrong."
"Well," Pansy clips, a sarcastic lilt to her voice. "I suppose that's it then. 'So glad you woke up from your coma, Draco, enjoy being dumped.'"
"I have no choice."
Theo stops in to visit Draco on the afternoon that marks a full week of his hospital stay. He's dropped in every day, mostly just for a minute or two, but a couple times he's stayed and done his homework at his bedside. Theo's not a big fan of hospitals.
But that day, when Theo enters the room he can sense an immediate difference. It's way less depressing in there.
Draco's eyes are open and he's slightly closer to vertical than he was before, propped up on a pile of pillows.
"Hey," Theo says as he approaches. "You got fucking sliced open."
"That's what I heard," Draco croaks.
Theo drops into the chair by his bed. "It was like a blood-splosion."
"You saw?"
"Yeah," Theo says. "I got there right before Snape did. If he had been one minute later…"
"Right," Draco grimaces, his voice still weak.
"How are you feeling?"
"Okay, I guess. A bit like I got cut open and then slept for a week."
"Makes sense."
"Tell me what happened?" Draco says. "I don't remember much."
"Didn't Madam Pomfrey or someone tell you?"
"Vaguely."
Theo nods and recounts the story as he understands it — a fight with Potter about Hermione in the bathroom, a possible crucio, a spell Potter didn't know but that turned out to be a vein-slicing spell.
"Huh," Draco says when he finishes.
"Ringing any bells?"
"I guess. I remember that morning… I was supposed to meet Granger at breakfast… but Potter came into the bathroom… and I'm not sure I remember much after that."
"Maybe it'll come back to you," Theo suggests.
Draco nods slightly, the movement rustling the pillows around his head. "What happened to Potter?"
Theo scoffs. "Detention and banned from quidditch."
"Typical," Draco mutters. "Did he really say I cast crucio?"
"Yeah."
"Do you believe him?"
"I don't know. Do you?"
Draco stares sullenly at the white hospital blankets. "Sure," he says. "I guess."
"Have you ever used it before?" Theo asks tentatively.
"Not on a person," Draco explains. "I've practiced it though. On nothing, mostly. And on a bird."
"A bird?" Theo attempts to keep his tone neutral, even as he pictures a sparrow writhing in pain.
"Yeah. I thought he might make me use it sometime, so I thought I should know how."
Theo nods. That fits. Draco would be scared of getting caught out unprepared in front of the Dark Lord. Partly because failure could mean receiving a crucio himself, but also because Theo's not convinced that Draco is entirely over his desire to impress the Dark Lord — and his father in the process.
"Anyway," Draco says. "Has anyone else been to see me, do you know?"
"Your mother was here the first day. I don't think she was able to get away to visit again. And Pansy's been here a lot. And Hermione."
"Do you know if Granger — if she's mad at me? For fighting with Potter?"
Theo shrugs. "I haven't talked to her much since right after it happened. She was just worried about you then."
"Good," Draco says. "That's good."
They settle into quiet, no sounds but the ticking of a clock from somewhere else in the hospital wing. Theo lets out a breath, like he's been holding one in all week. Perhaps he has.
"Tell me more about this you-and-Hermione thing," Theo asks, seizing the opportunity for distraction and to satisfy the curiosity that's been burning at him for more than a month.
The slightest of grins pulls at Draco's mouth. "I don't know. You know I've always had a thing about her. Or for her. But I suppose the feeling's mutual, at least somewhat. And she's been surprisingly understanding about the whole —" he waves a hand vaguely "— thing."
"You really do like her, don't you?" Theo asks, his voice tainted with wonder.
"What's not to like?" Draco looks genuinely confused.
"Plenty, I'd imagine. Her friends, for one. Her hair for another. And doesn't she make you feel like an idiot? I always feel so dumb after talking to her."
"I like her hair," Draco declares. "Though her friends I could do without, I'll give you that."
"And I guess blood status is less of an issue than I would have thought?"
"Yeah." Draco holds himself a little straighter in bed. "I don't give a fuck about that anymore. Not after everything."
Satisfied, Theo moves to stand up. "I should let you rest."
"Let Pansy and Granger know I'm awake?"
"Of course." Theo starts to walk away, then turns back. "I don't suppose you know anything about the Hogwarts founders' relics?"
"No, why?"
"Just thought I'd take a shot. Get some rest."
There's a lot more they need to talk about, and so much more to figure out. He still doesn't know what's going on with the cabinet, and they're now past the deadline he and Neville set.
But as he walks out of the hospital wing, he's stepping a little lighter than when he walked in. Draco's going to be okay. He escaped from the menacing crown. He's got Neville and Draco's got Hermione, and it actually feels like everything might be alright.