AN: Hello everyone!
I recently read the lovely Cysteine's story One Step Left and decided to write my own interpretation of such an incredibly unique idea. I plan to part from Cysteine's story fairly quickly, with less angst and violence in mine (because I'm a sensitive soul really). If you have not read her story I highly suggest it, it was truly an epic ride.
I already have some chapters written so I will try to post fairly consistently but please be patient with me. I have no beta so any mistakes are mine.
Enjoy!
The stone beneath Hermione's body is cold and solid, grounding her as her vision swims back into focus from unconsciousness. Her head pounds and she instinctively reaches up to it, hissing as her fingers brush against small shards of glass in an open wound. The pain brings her even more clarity as she slowly begins to remember not only where she is but what has just happened.
A silver knife presses against her throat as Harry, Ron, and Dobby burst into the room, demanding that Hermione be released. Chaos unfolds as the chandelier falls, and Hermione is shoved to the side as Bellatrix throws herself away from it. Bolts of multicolored light begin to light up the room above her as Hermione rolls to the side over countless shards of broken glass. She sees Draco hesitate as his aunt begins hurling increasingly lethal spells toward the escapees.
Draco's wand flies through the air and lands next to a scrambling Hermione who immediately throws up as strong of a shield charm as she can muster. She ducks behind some broken furniture and grasps the unfamiliar wand in panic, begging it to work well enough for them to get out of this alive. She is running toward her friends, blasting hexes and shields almost at random toward the attackers until she hears the familiar beginning of the killing curse.
Lucius Malfoy stands tall with fear and anger unbridled in his eyes as his lips begin to form the words, his wand pointed directly at her. It is a moment that becomes rather blurred as she dives toward Dobby, unleashing her magic in a wild motion toward Lucius with no intention other than to prevent him from doing any more harm. Draco's wand channels this intent in a rather unusual way for the young witch as crimson begins to spread across Lucius Malfoy's pale neck.
His eyes are wide in surprise and disbelief, pale fingers reaching up to the deep gash now carved into his neck and upper chest. Blood spurts freely from the grievous wound and it is not but a few seconds later that his body collapses, unresponsive on the white marble floor.
Hermione's body lurches as she slams into an invisible wall, her fingers ghosting across Dobby's as the familiar feeling of disapparation began to take hold. The feeling does not last long as she crashes into the unseen barrier and her fingers slip away from the house elf's. His wide eyes look apologetic as Ron and Harry both scream to her as the magic grabs hold, blinking them out of existence taking only the shiny silver dagger thrown at the last moment.
Hermione cries out in anguish as her only chance to escape disappears before her very eyes and her vision begins to tunnel until her body slumps against the marble floor, her own blood pooling slightly below her.
Hermione sits up straighter in alarm as she hears voices arguing outside of the dungeon entrance. Her eyes attempt to adjust to the darkness, and she startles at the sight of a body near the stairs. She approaches it slowly, only to find the familiar form of Pettigrew crumpled there. Hermione inhales sharply as one of the voices draws suddenly closer to the wooden door above.
"I will not. I can feel it already Bella, there is nothing left to do."
A moment later the sound of a lock opening and murmured spell could be heard as the dark space lit with a softly glowing orb of light. The woman entered then; her light blue eyes guarded.
"Ms. Granger." Her voice was cold, but it held a certain softness and tremor that caught the young witch off guard.
Hermione regarded her more closely then, noticing the dark circles under her eyes, the paleness of her skin, the gauntness of her cheeks. It seemed certain that the woman had been suffering and Hermione couldn't find it in herself to feel glad about that fact, despite being enemies. Perhaps it was the Gryffindor in her, she supposed.
"There is much we need to discuss." Narcissa Malfoy stood tall and strong despite the uncertainty ghosting within her eyes. Her voice was certain and held power, something that caused Hermione to bite her tongue. Hermione's eyes tracked the witch as she summoned two comfortable looking armchairs.
With her back pressed up against the cold stone of the dungeon wall, Hermione warily watched the woman take a seat with a heavy sigh. It was odd to see her perfectly crafted façade break for a moment and it only served to make Hermione more wary. She was certain this would be another trick to get her to talk about Godric's sword or where the boys must have gone. Hermione's arm burned as she thought of this, and she looked down to the angry, red carving in her forearm. 'Mudblood' stood out against slightly tanned skin, blood still seeping from the wound.
Blue eyes followed brown and Narcissa seemed to almost twitch as she looked. Her eyes raised once more to Hermione's and she summoned a healer's kit to her side, gesturing to Hermione's arm.
"May I?"
Hermione jerked her arm down and away, her eyes burning toward the woman before her. The message was taken in stride it seemed as Narcissa simply folded her hands in front of her elegantly.
"You killed my husband, Ms. Granger." Narcissa's voice was quiet and her eyes distant as she spoke.
Hermione inhaled sharply and pressed herself further against the wall, preparing to fight the widowed woman if it came to it.
"I would not expect a Mud-" Narcissa winced as she cut off her own words before continuing. "I would not expect you to understand what that means. Your heritage prevents it."
Hermione's voice was rough from hours of screaming not much prior and it shook slightly as she spoke. "It means I will die. But I will die with one less Death Eater for those I love to fight."
Narcissa's eyes sharpened as they snapped to Hermione and her lips twitched upward.
"No." Narcissa crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair, cold blue eyes boring into Hermione with upped intensity. "It means that you have bested Lucius on his own land in a duel to the death. Thus, by the Old Ways of Pureblood tradition to which my family aligns, you are now the rightful head of the Malfoy bloodline. You have inherited all to his name, including everything he owns."
Narcissa pauses and glances away briefly, as if forcing herself to say what comes next.
"Including me."
The room suddenly feels much smaller to Hermione as blood thrums in her ears, creating a static whooshing of white noise that cancels out all else, including the concerned voice of one Narcissa Malfoy – no Black – as she steps toward the swaying girl.
Hermione wakes once more in yet another unfamiliar space. However, this time there is a distinct softness to her surroundings as she rouses. Sitting up slowly, she notices first the silky sheets below her as well as the plentiful pillow supply at her head, keeping her cradled gently.
Glancing down, Hermione notices pristine white bandages wrapped around her left forearm. She continues to look around and notices a piece of folded parchment on the bed next to her. The parchment is labeled in beautiful, elegant writing "Ms. Granger."
Curiosity peaked, Hermione picks up the parchment and begins to read.
Ms. Granger,
I cannot imagine what you may think of this news no more than you can imagine what I do. I have taken the liberty to treat your arm so please do not undo it. I will give you time to yourself as much as I can but know that we will not have long before we are called before Him. I have assigned our house elf Nibsy to ensure that you do not do anything reckless. She is also available should you desire anything for comfort. If you wish to finally discuss this further, I will be reachable through Nibsy as well.
I do not blame you for killing my husband Ms. Granger.
Narcissa
Hermione blinked at the parchment, reading it over and over again. The reality began to set in slowly and she could not help the tear that escaped nor the river that came after it.
After a time, Hermione noticed the sun setting on the horizon through her no doubt heavily warded window and she sighed. Her stomach rumbled in protest and she frowned. The thought of starving herself did occur but she knew that she would never be allowed to die from it, only suffer.
Taking a breath, Hermione called out to the space of the room. "Nibsy?"
With a pop a house elf appeared in front of her, eyes wide. "Yes, Master Granger?"
Hermione's eyes widened comically, almost to the point of matching the smaller creature and her mouth hung open for a moment before she snapped it shut.
"Ummm.. Can you bring me something to eat? Or just bring me to the kitchens so I can prepare something for myself."
Nibsy looked stricken at the suggestion. "Nibsy can prepare Master's food. There is no need for Master to cook when Nibsy is here."
Hermione sighed defeatedly. "May I leave this room Nibsy?"
Nibsy looked up at her with confusion. "Nibsy was told not to let Master out until Nibsy is certain that Master would not leave or do harm to herself or Mistress. Nibsy is not yet certain so Nibsy must not let Master out. Mistress says Master will be confused and possibly angry for a long time. Nibsy will wait."
Hermione stared at the elf once more, her jaw hanging slightly open. The elf took her silence for acceptance and disappeared with a pop. Hermione took this opportunity to look around her room, obviously a guest quarters of some kind in Malfoy Manor. The room was richly decorated and Hermione was immediately surprised to see a certain likeness in style to the Gryffindor common rooms. Opulent did not even begin to describe the room as Hermione continued to explore it, taking in the massive empty closet and grand bathroom.
Nibsy returned moments after with a steaming platter of food. Hermione's mouth immediately watered at the delicious scents and she gave the elf a small, hesitant smile.
"Thank you Nibsy."
The elf curtsied proudly. "Nibsy did not know what Master would prefer so Nibsy made an assortment. Nibsy is here if Master needs anything more."
The elf disappeared once more, and Hermione sat down at the small table by the window. The food smelled divine, and Hermione began to eat slowly. Her mind was running too quickly to keep up and it felt like it was slowly driving her insane. With a groan, Hermione lowered her head onto the wooden table and simply lay there for a few moments.
She knew that she needed to speak to Lady Malfoy and soon, even that she wanted to if she let her mind go there for a moment. She was also however, very afraid of what she might hear from the older woman. Their situation was something Hermione had never even heard of, not that she perused ancient pureblood laws and traditions often.
Steeling herself, Hermione prepared to call back the house elf and ask for an audience but hesitated as she caught a look of herself in a mirror through the cracked bathroom door. Her hair was wild and tangled, with a sticky dark substance clumping sections together. Gratefully she noticed that the shards of glass were gone and the cuts themselves had been healed before she woke.
It was then that she decided that she would bathe. Not because she cared what Lady Malfoy thought of her unkempt appearance but rather for herself. If she was going to die, she might as well enjoy a languid bath first.
Drawing the water without magic proved to be impossible and Hermione huffed in annoyance as she covered herself with a towel and called for Nibsy once more. As soon as the steaming bath was drawn, complete with a variety of oils Nibsy decidedly added, Hermione lowered herself into the water with a soft moan.
The water itself was perfect but the bath, or whatever had been placed in it, magically soothed each of her sore muscles and rid her of any bruises or foreign substance she had acquired from the day. The bath also served to care for her hair, creating a silky and much more manageable version of it as she rose out of the water.
As she stepped from the bath, Hermione noticed an immediate warming charm underfoot so that wherever she stepped it felt comfortable against her bare feet. She made her way to the closet in search of pajamas, stopping to search the drawers of the room when she found none.
"Nibsy? I need clothing for bed." Hermione called out.
Instead of the familiar soft crack of apparition, Hermione was surprised to hear a gentle knock on the door to the bedroom. She stepped backwards in alarm as the door swung open slowly, revealing a familiar figure whose arms were stacked with clothing.
"I apologize for the intrustion Ms. Granger. Nibsy is out running errands for me but let me know what you required. I hope these are suitable." Lady Malfoy strode into the room with confidence and purpose, laying the neatly folded clothing on one of the dressers in the room before finally glancing up.
Narcissa's breath caught suddenly as she noticed Hermione standing there in nothing but a towel, her wet hair framing her face and drawing attention down to the smooth skin of her neck and collarbone. Her face flushed instantly, and she turned sharply, embarrassed that she would allow herself to have such a reaction, even if it was largely induced by the ancient magic now coursing between them.
Hermione for her part mistook her reaction for disgust and frowned. "I'm sure they will suffice just fine" she bit out.
"Lady Malfoy.. I would like to talk when you are ready."
Narcissa's eyes couldn't help but seek out the voice as Hermione disappeared into the bathroom to change. Narcissa stood awkwardly still as she waited for the other witch to reemerge, allowing herself to show a bit of weakness before turning to cold impassiveness once more.
Hermione exited the bathroom not but a few moments later, her figure hugged by the nightwear she was given. Hermione for her part looked affronted at it and frowned at the older woman as soon as she saw her.
"Lady Malfoy. Why in Merlin's name am I wearing what I can only assume to be your lingerie?"
Narcissa looked embarrassed for a brief moment before schooling her features once more. "It is all I had to give. Be happy that you got anything at all."
Hermione's frown deepened and she folded her arms in front of her in protest. She did, however, let it go, choosing to take a seat on the edge of the bed. Narcissa sighed and took her own seat in an armchair which she faced toward Hermione.
"What would you like to know?"
Hermione could both hear and see the exhaustion written on the other witch and decided not to push her too hard. "What is this tradition? What does it entail?"
"When a pureblood marriage is made, according to the Old Way a contract is created that magically connects the husband and wife together. Due to the prevalence of arranged marriages in pureblood society, this contract comes with a certain magical manipulation so to speak. There are compulsion charms put in place to ensure not only a subservient, perfect wife, but also to ensure that the marriage produces heirs as is the purpose. Pureblood families do not often marry out of love, rather for influence, heirs, or monetary gain. For this reason, the head of house for a pureblood family bonded in the Old Way retains full control over everything he owns, including his wife." Narcissa pauses as Hermione's face contorts into one of disgust and righteous anger. Her eyes reveal a certain level of enjoyment upon seeing that reaction before she continues.
"It is within the same line of logic that a clause is put in place in the original contract. If the head of house is ever bested in a duel to the death on his own property of which he willingly took part, everything that is his goes to the victor. In this case, that person is you."
Hermione stares at her with mistrust, confusion, understanding, and a myriad of other emotions as the words slowly sink in.
"How do I know that you are telling the truth? And what does that mean for us?"
"I suppose you do not know. However, I can only assume that you will come to feel the effects of the compulsion soon once your adrenaline has lessened. As for what it means for us that is something yet to be seen. This is a first for anyone, let alone someone in the middle of a war that neither wish to be in."
Hermione looks mildly surprised at the confession. "So, this compulsion… what is it exactly?"
Narcissa's lips twitch into a small smirk and then frown as she responds. "It is an ancient magic used to bring partners together as I said. This means that we will feel a certain draw to one another both physically and emotionally. It is often difficult to fight unless large contrary emotions are present such as now. It is meant to encourage heirs to be made and, if not love per say, an amicability between partners so that they may remain a united front in society."
"You mentioned the charms making the wife subservient and perfect" Hermione grimaces. "How does that work?"
Narcissa's frown deepens. "It means that I may not speak against you or ill to you without pain to myself. It means that if you were to command me to do something for you it would be very difficult for me to resist. It also means that I would give my life to protect you and likely that you would feel a similar but lessened draw to do the same for me."
"That's barbaric!" Hermione cried out. "And misogynistic, and awful, and.. and.. ugh. Does that mean that you had that with Mr. Malfoy?" Her face contorts into an odd mixture of resentment and empathy.
Narcissa nods and hums her agreeance. "Indeed. It would not matter how many times he caused me harm so long as I never did the same. I am used to my role, Ms. Granger. It was something expected of and taught to me from birth. I will not, however, lose everything that I have built to something that you choose to foolishly do."
"I will not join this side of the war. I don't care if you are suddenly my property or my w-wife." Hermione stutters over the word hesitantly but her face remains sure.
Narcissa nods. "I do not blame you Ms. Granger. However, you are young, and the Dark Lord will demand your brilliant mind. That is if he does not kill you for your blood first. You will have no say in the matter just like I never had a say. I have done what I had to in order to protect my family and you will do well to remember that. You are not at Hogwarts anymore Ms. Granger. Fair does not apply here. Neither does leniency."
Hermione stares at her incredulously. "You always have a choice Lady Malfoy."
When Narcissa responds her voice is sharp and cold. "The fact that you believe that only shows how insolent and misguided you are." She winces in pain. "You have no idea what I am capable of doing or choosing. None."
Hermione remains silent at this, much to Narcissa's relief. There is a pounding in her head and the taste of copper on her tongue from speaking out against her new wife so blatantly, but she ignores it. She is exhausted and feels even more trapped than before.
"You're right. I'm sorry." The soft voice takes Narcissa by surprise as she looks up into saddened brown eyes. "But I cannot join this side. I would rather die."
Narcissa flinches at the words even though she expects them, something she loathes greatly. "I understand, Ms. Granger. I will not ask you to. But as long as the Dark Lord lives, you cannot be against him. He will not stop at killing you."
Understanding seems to wash over Hermione's face and there is a strange pang in her heart as she imagines the other woman being killed for something Hermione did. Her mind lingers on the thought too long and begins to realize that he would likely torture them both to insanity or worse rather than provide a quick death. She shudders and takes a deep breath.
Cool blue eyes watch her with sympathy.
"Do you know Occlumency, Ms. Granger?"
Hermione shakes her head no in response.
"Then you must learn. If we are to survive this then we must both be able to hide our minds and true intentions from the Dark Lord. I do not want to die, Ms. Granger."
Hermione's eyes widen and her heart thuds at the confession. It is as if those simple words carry as much weight to her as the older woman on her knees begging for her life. It is in that moment that Hermione Granger realizes that she would do whatever it took to protect her.
"Yes, alright." Hermione clears her throat. "Can you teach me?"
Narcissa nods and blue eyes pierce into brown as Hermione suddenly feels something foreign in her mind. It is subtle and silky in its presence almost like water slowly making its way into the deepest parts of her psyche. Hermione revolts at this and her magic flares, but the silky presence of Narcissa Black cannot be stopped as it pulls forward memories deeply hidden.
Narcissa is only inside for but a moment before she pulls back out. Worry is etched on her beautiful face and Hermione frowns.
"There is much to teach. The first lesson is that every legilimens has their own style and thus you may need a slightly different approach to keep them from finding what they seek. The second lesson is that it is often worse to block yourself entirely than to misdirect. Providing false information to confirm an expectation is often more useful than providing nothing at all."
Hermione nods along in understanding and Narcissa continues.
"Now, to begin I want you to come up with a way to guard your mind from my intrusion. Oftentimes, people imagine walls or safes in which to hide their secrets. A good leglimens knows how to break down those walls and unlock those safes. A great occlumens knows how to hide their secrets where no one would look."
They go again, this time with Hermione focusing intently on creating an internal vault full of endless corridors and filing cabinets. Each time that Narcissa opened one drawer she encountered another within it. Hermione could feel her mix of frustration and pride as she continued her search. It didn't take long for Narcissa to find a weak spot and shatter Hermione's defenses, but it was an admirable start.
"Very good, Ms. Granger. An interesting adaptation. Continue to work on this and any other technique you may come up with. I will continue to work with you on this. I only hope that we are able to achieve enough success to grant us safety when the Dark Lord calls on us."
Narcissa stands and brushes out her robes with a nod. "Have a goodnight Ms. Granger and please do not hesitate to call on me should you need me."
"Goodnight Madame Malfoy." Hermione is surprised by the softness of her own voice and her brow furrows.
As the door to the bedroom opens, Narcissa pauses, her hand delicately grasping the door handle.
"I am so very sorry, Hermione."
Her voice is but a whisper, full of pain and quiet acceptance. Hermione watches her leave, unsure if the words were even spoken at all. There is a strange feeling bubbling within her and try as she might, she cannot get her mind to stop replaying that moment over and over as she goes to sleep.
"Hermione." Oh, how sweet it sounded falling from her lips.