The walls of the house whispered to her.
"Hermione," she could hear faintly. "Hermiiiiioooooneeeeee…"
She never responded, of course, because she wasn't crazy. Only crazy people talked to walls.
Only crazy people saw someone else in the mirror. A tall, handsome boy, in his early twenties, with neat black hair and a charming smile. No, she definitely did not see him in the mirror. She never looked in the mirror.
"Your aura has gotten dark," Professor Snape told her, looking across the room at her. He was sitting at his desk, but twisted away from it, staring at where she sat on his bed, knees drawn to her chest, twisting the blanket with anxious hands.
"It's the locket," she said. The locket she was wearing, which pulsed in time with her heart. The locket she was intimately aware of, connected now as they were.
"Obviously," he responded, but there wasn't a trace of sarcasm. He looked at her as if she were a strange, exotic specimen. He paused for a moment. "It's dark even when you're not wearing it."
"The power stays with me when I take it off," Hermione admitted. "I can feel it."
"Are you… well?" Professor Snape asked delicately.
Hermione shrugged. "I don't really feel anything," she answered honestly.
Professor Snape didn't look reassured by this. "Your health, then," he said. "Since…" Since the ritual. Since she'd torn out part of herself in exchange for-
"It's fine," she said.
"I need more detail than that," Professor Snape said, unamused.
"I've been having chills, I wake up every night at exactly midnight, I have violent nightmares every night, sometimes I hear whispers, and this morning I threw up black ichor," Hermione listed quickly, trying not to dwell on any particular symptom. She knew what it meant. She just needed time.
"Ah," Professor Snape said, leaning back in his chair. He looked at her over steepled fingers. "I did not expect that. Your symptoms are far more severe than I would have expected. It's possible the artefact is more powerful than I imagined. I would advise that you stop wearing it immediately, and disregard this entire plan of action." He said the words clinically, as if he had no personal investment in the situation.
Hermione stared at him, feeling a flush develop on her cheeks. Out of anger or embarrassment, she didn't know. "You said you'd help me," she said.
"I am trying to help you," he said, frustrated desperation creeping into his tone. "This is far worse than dark magic poisoning, I believe your life may be in serious danger." Was that a note of hysteria Hermione heard in his tone?
"It's so much power," Hermione said quietly. "At first I was scared it'd never work but- with this much power, I might have a chance."
"There are other ways," Professor Snape said. "The Order will be looking for her. Let them handle it."
Hermione shook her head. "No, no one else. I won't let anyone else die because of her." She hated Bellatrix Lestrange with every beat of her heart, with every breath she took, with every tortured minute of sleep she struggled through. There was only one person she hated more. "I can do this, I know I can."
"You can do nothing if you are dead," Professor Snape said harshly.
Hermione winced. "It won't kill me," she said weakly. She didn't actually know that for sure. "I just need time," she added. "Just enough time to get Lestrange, and then I'll do whatever purging ritual or whatever I need to do. It'll be fine. It'll all be fine." Was she trying to convince him or herself?
Professor Snape shook his head. "You foolish girl, you don't understand. You don't have time. This locket- whatever it is- will kill you. Purging it- it's likely already too late."
"It doesn't want to kill me," Hermione said automatically, the words coming out of her from somewhere deep inside. "It wants something else." She frowned, unsure of how she knew that.
Professor Snape drew in a sharp breath. "Has it spoken to you?" he asked softly.
She shook her head hesitantly. "No, I mean- well, it hasn't said anything. I don't know how I know, I just do."
"It's deeper than I thought," Professor Snape murmured to himself. "Perhaps it's time to contact Albus-"
"No!" Hermione cried, standing up off the bed before she could help herself. "Absolutely not." The cold rush of fear she felt when she thought of telling Albus Dumbledore what she'd done was unbearable.
"Miss Granger, you must listen to me-"
"No!" Hermione shouted, louder this time. "This is my life, and I'll do what I need to! With or without your help!" With that, she flung the door open and stormed out of his room, her heart beating wildly as she slammed the door behind her.
"Hermione?" came a voice from down the hall.
Hermione winced as panic twisted her stomach into a tight knot. "Oh, Sirius," she said evenly, hoping that she looked more calm than she felt.
"What were you doing in Snivellus' room?" Sirius asked, staring at her with wide eyes.
"Hermione was what?" And of course, Sirius was holding a mirror in his hands.
"I had a potions question," Hermione said slowly. Had he heard her shouting? Surely Professor Snape silenced his room?
Sirius' eyes didn't leave her face, even as the people in the mirror kept asking questions. "A private question?" he asked, and Hermione wondered at the look she saw on his face. The rules were different here than they would be at Hogwarts, they both knew that. But even that didn't make up for being in her professor's bedroom.
"A very quick question," she said.
Sirius nodded. "I've been looking for you," he said, without accusation. His tone was matter-of-fact, but the words felt like daggers.
He knew she was lying. Did he know why? "What's up?" she asked.
"I've got Harry and Ron, they want to talk to you," Sirius said. He held out the mirror, but made no other move towards her.
Hermione didn't look back at the door behind her. "Great," she said, although she was unable to muster even a fake cheer. She walked over and took the mirror from him. "Hello," she said politely, even though talking was the last thing she wanted to do.
Sirius took her elbow gingerly and led her to the kitchen. "I'll make some tea," he muttered, largely to himself.
"Hermione!" Harry said, a grin on his face. "What are you doing at Padfoot's? When are you coming back?"
"And what were you doing in Snape's room?" Ron added in disgust.
Hermione looked over at Sirius, who shook his head slightly. She couldn't believe no one had told them. For a second, she felt a flash of anger. How dare they leave this for her, to have to say the words with her own mouth. But the anger was replaced by cool numbness, and she realised the gift she'd been given. She didn't have to tell them. She could keep her pain private. "Just some f-family stuff," she managed, barely getting the word out. "I'm going to be here a bit, I don't know how long. Probably not too long though."
Sirius set a mug of steaming hot tea in front of her, and sat on the other side of the table. He gave her a measured look. "You can stay as long as you need," he said, quietly enough that the mirror wouldn't pick it up.
"Is everything okay?" Harry asked in concern.
"Yeah, it's fine," Hermione lied. The locket hummed where it sat around her neck. "Don't you two have class soon?" Even here, with everything going on, she knew their class schedule like she knew her own name.
In the mirror, Ron looked at his watch and cursed. "You're right," he said. "Harry, we should go."
"You'll be okay?" Harry asked again.
"It's all fine," Hermione promised. "It'll all be fine." This time she wasn't lying.
Suddenly she was looking at herself in the mirror, for the first time in days. It was her, thank god, and she hadn't even realised how scared she'd been that it wouldn't be. She looked horrible. No wonder Harry was so worried.
Wordlessly, she handed the mirror back to Sirius.
"I meant it," he said. "You can stay as long as you like."
"That desperate for company?" Hermione tried for a joking tone, but it came out flat. She took a sip of her tea. It was terrible.
Sirius fiddled with his mug. "I hated my parents," he said, not looking at her. "When I got out of Azkaban and found out they were dead, I was fucking happy. They were my blood relatives, but I hated them. I hate most of them, actually, especially Bell— fuck." He winced. "I'm cocking this all up. I'm not good at this sort of thing."
"That's okay," Hermione said quietly. "I think I get what you're saying."
"No, you don't," Sirius said, surprising her with the passion in his voice. He leaned forward, looking at her intently. "Look, Hermione, Charlus and Dorea practically raised me, okay? They were there for me when I needed them, over and over. When they died, James and I—" he choked off. It took him a moment before he could continue. "James and I went out and fucked up every Death Eater we could find, and we got ourselves hurt in the process."
Hermione stayed silent. She was painfully aware of the locket, warm against her chest. She already knew she was going to get hurt. She didn't care.
"And then after that Halloween, after I went to Azkaban— Merlin, I don't know. Hermione, what I'm trying to say is that I get what you're going through, okay? I know you want to hurt her more than anything."
"You can't stop me," Hermione said, the words coming out before she even knew what she was saying.
"I'm not trying to stop you," Sirius said. "Fuck, Hermione, let me help you. I know you're doing something with Snivellus, and I want to help. Whatever it is."
Hermione shook her head. "You don't understand, it's—"
"Dangerous? Stupid?" Sirius shook his head wryly. "I guarantee it's nothing worse than I've done before."
"Dark," Hermione finished quietly.
Sirius leaned back in his chair, shoulders slumping. "Fuck," he said. "Fuck, Hermione, that's…"
Hermione carefully ignored the hot prickles of shame she felt. "What else am I supposed to do?" she said. "Lestrange is so much stronger than me in every way. This is the only way I can even possibly begin to challenge her."
"She knows way more about dark magic than you, no matter how much studying you've been doing," Sirius said, but he didn't sound accusatory.
"I know," Hermione said, a new determination filling her. "But she won't expect me to know any. She'll underestimate me, and maybe I'll— maybe I'll have a chance. I just need more power."
"Are you sure about this?" Sirius asked. "Once you go down this road, you can never come back."
Hermione knew this to be true in a way she hadn't only a week ago. She'd already made a deal with the devil, and she could feel the consequences of that decision in her very soul. "I'm sure," she said. "And anyway, it's already too late." She couldn't meet his eyes. Her eyes were burning.
Sirius reached out and grabbed her hand. "Okay," he said simply. "Okay, that's fine."
Hermione looked up at him in surprise. "Do you mean it?" she asked, realising suddenly how vulnerable she was in this moment. How much she wanted Sirius to be on her side, despite what she'd done.
"Yeah, I do," he told her. "Now we just need to make sure your sacrifice was worth it."
Down the hallway, Severus leaned against the wall, head in his hands as he listened to their conversation. Anger coursed through him at the thought of Black offering Granger comfort that he could not. He closed his eyes and pictured slamming Black's face repeatedly into the wall, a trick he used to calm himself when his emotions got the better of him. It was less effective this time than it usually was. He couldn't get rid the image of Granger storming out of his room, magic practically flying off of her.
He took a breath and went through the process of clearing his mind. Carefully, breath by breath, he calmed himself to the point where he could actually think again.
"Master Snape is spying," came a reedy, unwelcome voice.
Severus' eyes flew open, and he stared at the house elf in front of him. "Do you have a problem with that?" he challenged the house elf.
"Kreacher is not caring," said the house elf in a sly tone. "But perhaps filthy master is."
Severus paused. "I know you hate Black more than you hate me," he said to the elf. "Just as I know your bindings prevent you from taking any… overt actions against him. Perhaps we could come to an arrangement of sorts."
Kreacher licked his lips. "Kreacher thinks is possible," he said. Severus could see the hunger in his eyes.
Severus had an unfortunately long history with Kreacher the house elf. He'd visited Regulus during the summers when they'd been at Hogwarts, and the elf had taken an instant dislike to him. Regulus said the elf was like that with everyone, but personally Severus thought the house elf had been… jealous, of all things. Jealous of his relationship with Regulus.
A noise came from the kitchen. Chairs being pushed back. "We will discuss this more," Severus promised the elf, and stalked off in the direction of the library. He would continue his research, his primary reason for being in this house. If he could rid himself of the curse, he could leave Granger to her efforts without any remorse, and rid himself of the pain of watching her self destruct.
And yet, even the thought of leaving her to herself gave him a headache, stress creating painful tension at his temples. The thought of Black comforting her-
"Oh," came a soft noise of surprise.
Severus turned around to see Granger hovering nervously at the entrance to the library. Black wasn't with her.
"I thought you were still in your room," she said, embarrassment keeping her gaze low.
Severus considered her. The thought of Black- "Come here," he said harshly, and retreated behind a shelf, where they wouldn't be seen from the door.
She followed obediently, but he could see her hesitation. She leaned against one of the shelves that had been emptied over the summer, crossing her arms defensively. She still wouldn't meet his eyes.
"You told Black," Severus said.
She nodded, still staring somewhere in the vicinity of his chest. Was it shame that kept her gaze low? Or anger?
"He can't help you," Severus told her. "He has some knowledge of the dark arts merely through his upbringing, that is true, but he is missing much of the subtleties, of the context required to navigate safely. If you follow his lead, you will die." Was his voice as steady as he hoped? Did she know the thought of her death gave him nightmares?
"What else-" she started angrily, finally looking at his face. Her eyes were bright, but she looked… tired.
"I will help you," he cut her off. "Black already knows, and if you don't allow him to assist you he'll run straight to Albus. But you must run everything he tells you by me before you attempt anything. Do you understand?"
"And you won't tell Professor Dumbledore?" she asked suspiciously.
He desperately wanted her to trust him. He told himself that he merely needed her trust in order to best help her, but truthfully, that moment after he'd rescued her (and admittedly, after she'd rescued him as well), when she'd grabbed his hand without hesitation, when she'd looked up and him and given him her full attention… He wanted everything she was willing to give him, anything he could get from her. "I won't," he promised. "I won't tell anyone you do not wish."
Granger nodded, a steely determination in her eyes now. "Good," she said. "But there's more."
"More?" Severus asked without thinking, and he knew anxiety was clear in his voice.
"I need you to be okay working with Sirius."
Severus felt his anger rising. "As I said, Black knows nothing that can help you. He will lead you to your death." Was his voice steady? Had he betrayed how much he feared for her? Perhaps she already knew.
Granger shook her head. "It's not that. I need something from him, I need-" she cut herself off with a wince. Even from here he could sense the spike of dark magic.
"Need what?" Severus asked, baffled by this. Then a dawning horror came over him and he pretended not to see the way she stroked the locket around her neck. Was the locket… sentient? Could it be controlling her? What had he done, helping her do that ritual?
"There's an artefact, and only Sirius has access to it," Granger said, obviously picking her words carefully. "So I need his help getting it. And I need your help with the dark arts stuff… Please. You don't even have to talk to him."
Severus' thoughts were racing. If the locket was directing her, it seemed that it was the sudden reason for her interest in this artefact. And unfortunately, that meant he likely wouldn't be able to convince her she didn't need it. Just how much influence did the locket have over her? Had she been lost completely?
He nodded slowly, and risked a quick glimpse through her eyes and into her mind. Her thoughts seemed genuine, and he didn't detect anything foreign, except- there. When she thought of the locket, there was some sort of mental link between them. It didn't seem she was aware of it. He hastily retreated. "I will still help you," he told her, noting her genuine relief. "I can see that it is foolish to expect you to forget this path altogether, so I will do what I can to help you along the way." And if that help required him forcefully removing the locket from her, then that's what he would do.
"Okay," Granger said. "Okay. Let's talk."
"Have you ever experienced something so tragic, so profound, that it becomes the defining core of who you are?" Granger asked, in a soft whisper. She was sitting on his bed again, an obscene sight. He couldn't stop looking at her.
Severus didn't answer, his mind immediately conjuring up faces he'd tried so hard to forget.
"That's what it feels like," she continued. "Every moment I experience is coloured by the pain of loss. I look ahead to the rest of my life, and everything I'd once dreamed of is gone. Who cares about the Ministry, or about house-elves? Why bother when life itself is meaningless? We exist in a world that doesn't care about us. And why should it? We are tiny, stupid, little things. We play at political games like children on a playground. There is an entire universe around us, and we are one minuscule insignificant speck. The universe doesn't even know we're here. We're all mad creatures, screaming into the void."
There was silence. Granger stared at him, wild eyes and clenched fists. Did she know how beautiful she looked? And how fucking young?
"That's a rather depressing viewpoint," Severus managed, although he found that at his core, he understood what she was saying. "But if all this is truly as inconsequential as you say, why seek vengeance? Why not simply… disappear?"
Granger stared at him, mouth agape. "You mean kill myself?" she asked. That's not what he meant, but it didn't surprise him that she went there. He'd thought of it as well, after. Almost constantly.
"Not necessarily. Why bother? Why not simply live out your life in quiet solitude?"
Granger clutched at her chest. "It hurts," she said, in an instant her voice gone from a woman's to a girl's. "Please. I can't bear it. I can't-" She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her head in them. She made no sounds, but her shoulders trembled.
Severus weighed his options and considered killing himself. The problem was not that he didn't want to comfort her. The problem was that he wanted to go over to her and hold her so badly that he no longer trusted his judgement. How was he to determine the proper course of action when there was one he desired to the point of self delusion?
We are one minuscule insignificant speck, her words of a moment ago rung in his ear. To her, they held a depth and meaning that was incomprehensible to anyone over the age of seventeen. To him, they were a reminder of the uncaring and unfair nature of the universe around them. Fuck it, who cared about impropriety? The girl was likely to get them both killed in her mad quest for revenge anyway. Why not offer her what comfort he could in the meantime?
He still felt like a lech as he moved to sit next to her on the bed, and carefully put his arm around her. He pulled her tight to him to stop her from shaking.
"The pain of loss never leaves us," he told her, his mind flashing through memories. His mother. Regulus. Lily. The people he'd killed under service of the Dark Lord. The people he'd killed under service of Albus. The student who'd been entrusted to his care, whom he'd failed when he missed the signs of drug abuse. "You will feel it always, and yes, it will define you. But it will not be the only thing that will define you. Your actions will define you. How you choose to live your life in response to this tragedy will define you. Future loss will define you as well, and believe me, there will be more loss. But you feel their loss so deeply because of the impact they had on your life, and that can never be taken from you. Do you understand? You will always have their memory, and the rest of your life is free to be lived however you wish. This choice that you make, that is what will define you. As will the rest of the choices you make, for the rest of your life."
At first he didn't think his words got through to her, but slowly, hesitantly, she unfolded herself. He was still holding her, but she didn't push him off.
"Okay," she said, and her voice was sad but strong and really, what choice did she have? "Let's talk to Sirius. I need to get in Lestrange's vault."
"Hermione, this is a crazy plan," Sirius said, but Hermione thought that he sounded more admiring than critical.
"For once, Black and I are in agreement," Professor Snape added, and Sirius gaped at him.
Hermione sighed. "I know, it's ridiculous, but we can't exactly walk into the vault disguised as Lestrange, can we? The goblins probably see that all the time. So we have to do this within their laws."
"Black is a wanted criminal," Professor Snape pointed out. Sirius seemed proud of this, once more causing Hermione to think that maybe Professor Snape was right about leaving Sirius out of it. He hadn't taken anything today very… well, seriously.
"We'd have a bit of time before the Aurors showed up. More if the plan actually works."
"All you need to do is talk to the goblins and dissolve Lestrange's marriage. That shouldn't take long, should it? And then since the artefact is in her personal vault, as the head of the family, you should be able to access it."
"Wait, why would I have access again?" Sirius asked, looking up from the Daily Prophet's daily word jumble.
"Since your burnt-out husk of a brain seems incapable of absorbing even the smallest amount of information, let me explain it again," Professor Snape said through gritted teeth. "Once Bellatrix is no longer married, you become her Head of House. Since she is a criminal, you have the right to reclaim her vault. Once you reclaim it, it becomes yours and you have full rights to it, even though you are not able to visit it as you are also a criminal. Then you can grant access to Miss Granger and me, and we will be able to visit it and retrieve the artefact."
"Why can I do all that if I'm a criminal too?" Sirius asked, looking suspiciously at Professor Snape.
Professor Snape's hands twitched as if he were restraining himself from reaching across the table and strangling Sirius. "Since you were never found guilty at trial, you are still technically the Head of the family, with all the powers that implies."
"But I can't visit my vault," Sirius said skeptically.
"Because you are a fugitive," Professor Snape answered through gritted teeth.
"Even though I never received a trial," Sirius said.
"The Ministry can declare anyone a fugitive regardless of whether or not they have received a trial. The Dark Lord, for example, has fugitive status even though he has never been caught, and thus never received a trial."
Hermione thought Professor Snape was holding himself together very well, especially considering the way his black eyes glittered dangerously and he looked as if he were trying to wandlessly set Sirius on fire.
"Makes perfect sense to me," Sirius said, as if Professor Snape were the one not understanding. Hermione quickly reached out to grab Professor Snape's sleeve to stop him from drawing his wand. "So I just need to get the goblins to listen to me."
Hermione ignored the way Professor Snape was looking at her, like he was in physical pain, and Sirius' sudden sharp interest. "They have a treaty with the Ministry," She explained, reaching over to flip through one of the books in front of her by habit. She didn't think Sirius actually cared enough to see the reference, but she felt strangely on edge. "So they're required to report all sightings to the Ministry. But there's no requirements as to when they report. And they don't have to give any details about what you were doing."
"So they won't report me then," Sirius said happily.
"Well, it's not quite that simple," Hermione hedged, glancing over at Professor Snape. "There is a bounty on your head, and if they catch you and turn you in, they'll make that money. You probably still wouldn't get a trial, since there's a Kiss on Sight order, which means that your assets wouldn't be frozen and Gringotts would still profit from your accounts with them. So there's really no reason for them not to turn you in, unless…"
"Unless I give them one," Sirius finished for her. "Right. I always hated those greedy bastards."
"Don't be foolish, Black. Their greed makes them worthy allies, for we know exactly what their motivations are and how to work with them," Professor Snape said snidely. Considering the rant he'd gone on earlier about goblins, Hermione suspected he was merely taking this stance to antagonise Sirius.
It was working. "Oh, you would think that, wouldn't you, Sni-"
"Sirius!" Hermione interrupted, before wands were drawn. "Would you stop? I really, really need you to be able to work together," she said. "Remember, you hate Bellatrix more, right?"
Sirius looked over at Professor Snape consideringly, so Hermione reached across the table and punched him in the arm. "Ow, Hermione," Sirius whined. "Fine, yes, I hate Bellatrix more."
Professor Snape raised an eyebrow at him.
"Well, she's family," Sirius explained with suspicious cheer. "No offence, but family always comes first. That's practically the Black motto."
"Always pure?" Professor Snape asked.
"Pfft. Everyone knows that's a lie. My Great-Aunt Cassie is half-veela. We think that's where Cissy's hair comes from. And of course, everyone knows about Great-Great-Great-Uncle Vilfred's affair with his house-elf. That's why my family started cutting off their heads instead of giving them clothes. They're part of the family, see?"
Hermione stared at him in horror. Professor Snape abruptly stood up and walked out of the room.
"It's true!" Sirius called after him. "Technically Kreacher is my cousin!" He turned to Hermione. "Okay, it's only sort of true. My family was cutting off their heads long before the elves made it into the family officially."
"Oh my god, Sirius, that's horrifying," Hermione said. "That's…"
"Apparently it was consensual, does that help?" Sirius said with a wicked smirk. "They had probably the healthiest relationship anyone in my family has ever had."
Hermione felt like she was going to be sick. "But they're… so small…" she said weakly.
Sirius completely missed her point. "Well, I think the house-elf curse won out over any genetics. That's why they don't look more human."
"Hang on, curse?" Hermione asked in surprise, gratefully latching on a change in subject.
"Sure, the curse that turned them into house-elves."
"What were they before?" she asked curiously. She'd done research on house-elves before, of course, but she'd never been able to find anything of their origins.
"Regular elves, I think?" Sirius suggested, with a frown. "I don't actually know much about it.
"Where did you learn this, then?" Hermione pressed.
Sirius shrugged. "Around, or wherever. You pick things up from rumours on the street. I wouldn't put much stock into it, I've also heard that Dumbledore was gay for Grindelwald. I mean, people say all kinds of things."
"Oh, that's… interesting…" Hermione said politely, trying not to think of her old professor in any sort of romantic relationship. "But anyway, do you have anything you think you can bribe them with?"
"The house-elves?" Sirius asked doubtfully. "Maybe I could drop trou…"
"No!" Hermione said quickly. "No, obviously I was talking about the goblins!"
Sirius smiled at her winningly. "Why didn't you just say so, Hermione? I have a couple of family heirlooms that are supposedly goblin-made. Although… once we have Bella's vault, we'll have all sorts of treasures we can bargain with."
"You know what's in there?" Hermione asked in surprise.
"Not exactly, but I'm sure she's got some great stuff. And worst comes to worst, I'll just keep offering them gold until they cave. It's not like I'll get a chance to use it again."
"Unless your name is cleared," Hermione pointed out. "Then you'd need it."
Sirius snorted. "Hermione, really, don't worry about it. Between my family's ridiculous piles of gold, and whatever Bella has, I'll be set for life even after a hefty bribe."
"Alright, if you're sure," Hermione said uncertainly. "If you're wrong about this, they'll probably turn you in immediately."
Sirius' eyes glittered with excitement. "I think that's a risk I'm willing to take," he said, leaning back in his chair.
Hermione didn't think he was taking this very seriously. He acted like it was all a lark, but did he realise he could actually die? He had the riskiest part of this plan, by far. But then again, did she really care? If he wanted to risk his life, it didn't matter to her, as long as he succeeded. And if he failed, she'd kill him her— No, of course she wouldn't. Hermione liked Sirius. And she loved Harry, and Harry loved Sirius, and Hermione would do everything she could to stop Harry from experiencing—
"-rmione?" Sirius' voice was concerned.
"Yes, I'm listening," Hermione responded automatically, still feeling a little disoriented.
"I said your name multiple times, are you alright?"
"Oh, yes, I'm fine," Hermione said, not meeting his eyes. "We'll go later this afternoon, okay? In and out, quick as we can."
"Sure, yeah," Sirius said. "If you're up for it." His excitement had dampened with his worry, but now it was starting to come back again.
"Yeah, of course," Hermione said automatically.
Sirius grinned at her. "Perfect."
Hermione hadn't been present for Sirius' portion of the plan, but she could only assume it was completely successful because a goblin had seen her and Professor Snape down to Lestrange's vault and let them in without a word.
"Which item are you after?" the goblin finally spoke, as they stared around the room in wonder. There was heaps of gold, of course, but also a surprising amount of jewellery and books.
This had all been Lestrange's, Hermione thought in a daze. And now it wasn't. She'd taken away all of her wealth, all of her prized family heirlooms. She wanted to burn it all to the ground, incinerate it into— there.
"That cup," she said, pointing high on a shelf.
The goblin started over to it obligingly.
"Wait!" Hermione called after him. The room reeked of dark magic. "It's all cursed," she said. "Give me a second."
She ignored Professor Snape's surprised stare as she waved her wand across the room. The motions felt familiar to her, even though she'd never performed them before. The words flowed easily from her tongue, even though she'd never said them. She felt the dark power inside of her rise up at her command, almost too easily. Like it knew what she wanted without her having to tell it.
"It's clean now," Hermione said, lowering her wand.
"Miss Granger…" Professor Snape said, and for the first time Hermione thought he looked— scared? Not of her, surely?
"I thank you," the goblin said, the first polite words he'd said to her all evening. "You've saved us some work." He shouted some commands at the goblins waiting outside, and they strode into the room and started carrying things out.
"All of it?" Hermione asked in surprise.
"The vault's contents, minus that one item. Mister Black was very persuasive," the goblin said, baring his teeth. "We came to a mutually beneficial arrangement."
That was an awfully steep price. Hermione wondered at what else Sirius had gotten from the deal. How dare he use her plan for his own personal gain? Only… what did she care? Why shouldn't he get something out of it too?
"It's time to leave," Professor Snape hissed at her.
She was holding the cup. When had she gotten it? It felt warm and right in her hands, as if it'd been made especially for her. "Yes," she said, and followed him out of the vault. She stashed the cup in her cloak, and obligingly followed Professor Snape into the cart.
They met up with Sirius in a small room that Gringotts allowed for Apparition, and with a gut-wrenching pop, they returned to the manor, Hermione obligingly holding Professor Snape's arm.
"Did you get it?" Sirius asked excitedly.
"Yes," Hermione said, touching the inside of her cloak again.
"It went so well!" Sirius exclaimed giddily. "I can't believe it worked! The goblins seemed thrilled to get ahold of Bella's stuff, she must have had some great things in there. They agreed to all my demands in less than ten rounds of negotiation."
Professor Snape nodded slowly. "Indeed, they must have been very eager if they capitulated so quickly," he said, but he didn't seem to think it was a good thing.
"I even got them to agree to a few other things too," Sirius said, pleased. "Which means I'll now have access to my money again. Although they're charging me twice the usual fee," he said, with a roll of his eyes.
"And you don't find it strange that they let you off so easily?" Professor Snape asked skeptically.
"Well… when you put it like that, yeah, I guess it's a little strange," Sirius looked pained to be agreeing with anything Professor Snape said. "But I didn't have anything in Bella's vault before, so now that I've lost it, it doesn't really matter to me, does it?"
Professor Snape snorted. "Of course you would say that," he murmured. "No regard whatsoever for the consequences of your actions."
"Hey, I helped Hermione, didn't I? That was the whole point of this thing," Sirius snapped back. "And what did you do again? Just stand around looking menacing? How did that help exactly?"
"I'm tired," Hermione said, grabbing Professor Snape's arm just as he reached for his wand. "I'm going to get some sleep."
"It's four in the afternoon," Professor Snape said in surprise, distracted from his rage.
"That spell wiped me out," Hermione said, half telling the truth. "I'll take a nap and be down for dinner later."
"I'll send Kreacher out for something," Sirius said happily. "Now that I have money again."
"Black, you imbecile, you're in hiding and you're sending—"
Hermione retreated up the stairs, away from the fighting. She let herself into her room, still decorated with all the silly things she'd put up over the summer, and sat down on her bed. Gingerly, she pulled the cup from her cloak.
"Hello," she whispered to it, cradling it in her hands. "What do I do with you?" She waited a moment, as if the cup would answer her, then felt foolish. "Of course, the ritual," she murmured. But she didn't have the strength to do the ritual again right now. She set the cup down beside her pillow and stood, stretching, and removed her cloak.
She froze when she caught sight of a now-familiar face in the mirror.
Tall and handsome, black hair curled slightly around his face. Steely blue eyes staring straight at her, a slight smirk on his lips.
"You can't hurt me," Hermione said boldly, at the man in the mirror. "You're just in my head."
"But Hermione," the man said back, and Hermione dropped her cloak in surprise. "You of all people should know: in your head is where I can do the most damage of all."