Hermione's heart flew into her throat as she looked upwards, searching for the damage that her magic had caused.
A large branch crashed through the treetops, landing on the ground with a jarring thump. It had narrowly missed Pansy's mount, and Hermione's hand flew up to her chest in shock as the mare spooked, rearing up and dancing frantically on the spot as Pansy none too gently forced it to calm.
"This isn't over!" She shrieked, waving her hand at Hermione. "You won't last another week at court-"
Several tiny branches snapped, plummeting downwards and striking Pansy on the crown of her head. Hermione gaped open mouthed at the sight as Pansy let out a cry of rage and pain and spurred her mare onwards, through the forest and away from them. Her ladies followed in a flurry of silken dresses and clattering hooves.
Hermione fell to her knees, clutching at her stomach as a stabbing pain shot through her body. She fought to catch her breath, shaking like a leaf as the magic slipped away from the surface of her skin. The agony was gone as quickly as it had arrived, and Hermione dragged a hand across her mouth, sagging slightly with relief as it came away unmarked by blood. Hagrid's thundering footsteps slowly made their way to where she was slumped on the ground.
"Ye all right, lass?"
"I think so," Hermione muttered, taking a deep breath.
Hagrid's giant hand patted her on the shoulder, and she gratefully accepted his help to stand. Her knees were still unsteady, and she was too embarrassed and worried to see what his reaction was.
After a moment, the forest fell silent once more, and Hermione finally snuck at peek at Hagrid. He stood slowly, staring at her as if she'd sprouted a second head.
"Hagrid..?" She asked weakly, unsure how to explain what had just happened. "I-"
"Ye weren't jesting about the magic," he replied slowly, watching her warily out of the corner of his eye. "Ye're lucky that she didnae recognize that branch fallin' for what it was."
"Something's changed," Hermione admitted miserably, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I can't control it today, and I don't know why-"
"Read the story, lass, it'll help ye understand. Faroe legends ring with truth," Hagrid said kindly, raising one bushy eyebrow at her. "Now, I don't fancy speakin' of it anymore. Let's get back to the keep; ye have some reading to do."
Hermione nodded, taking the basket of mushrooms from him. "I actually do need one of these mushrooms, so thank you."
"Hmmph, perhaps ye shouldnae thank me," he muttered. "They're not edible. I use them to kill flobberworms. Cantarella are dangerous, Hermione."
Hermione didn't know what to think of that. She ignored the quip about the mushroom; she didn't need it to be edible in order to help Draco. She'd had an idea. "I know, I just need one. "
He looked at her for a long moment before shaking his head and handing her a brightly coloured toadstool.
The walk back to Hagrid's hut was heavy with a crushing silence. Hermione was so deeply engrossed in her thoughts that she was almost grateful for the lack of conversation. She glanced at Hagrid once more as they exited the forest, and she was very much relieved to see the small smile that he sent her way; he didn't appear to be terrified, and that made her very glad.
After bidding Hagrid goodbye at his hut, she re-entered the keep.
Her whirling thoughts kept her company as she moved quickly thought the stairwells that led her upwards to Slughorn's lab. She paused before entering the room; she could hear that Horace wasn't alone. She ignored her trickle of worry and pushed the door open, slipping inside the room with as little fuss as possible.
Oh good god. This is the last thing that I need. I can't trust these two farther than I can throw them, and now they're together in the same room.
Anger sputtered to life in her belly, but she forced her mind away from her fear and distrust of the room's occupants. It wasn't the time to address any of her suspicions.
She had to wait and be strategic.
Father Albus greeted her cheerfully from the table, raising his long-fingered hand in a small wave as she closed the great oak door behind herself. "Miss Granger, I was hoping to see you at some point. Are you well?"
"I am, thank you, Father," she lied seamlessly, smiling at Slughorn, who sat perched on his stool like he was ready to take flight. He beamed at her and gestured animatedly at Albus.
"There you are! As I was saying, we'll crack dear Lord Draco's case very shortly, isn't that right?"
"Yes of course," Hermione replied, trying to sound cheerful and not at all worried. "You'll have found a cure within a fortnight, I expect."
Slughorn boomed out a laugh and patted his belly. "See, Albus? I can't go wrong with such an educated, enthused supporter."
Keep your head on straight, Hermione.
"Thank you, Professor," Hermione muttered, fighting to keep her smile plastered on her lips.
"Have you seen the Earl this morning?" Slughorn asked abruptly, raising his eyebrows at her.
"I have," she admitted carefully. "He was in the library."
"How was his mood?" Albus asked quietly, leaning forwards slightly in his chair. "He denied Horace an audience."
Hermione didn't see any reason to lie; she knew that she needed to act with caution, but it served her to tell the truth just this once.
"He appears to be well. His energy is good, and his temperament was…even," she said judiciously, shrugging. "Lord Draco didn't appear to care that I was there reading."
"Excellent," Slughorn said, wagging a finger at her. "I told you that mercury would stabilize his mood."
"Right you were," Hermione replied immediately, more than slightly annoyed that Slughorn thought that his miracle cures were the reason for Draco's change in personality; a tiny little voice in the back of her head was chomping at the bit to tell him how wrong he was. The sudden taste of cinnamon on her tongue made her clench her fist behind the camouflage of her skirt.
She hurriedly squashed that strange feeling of rebellion and pushed her sleeves up to her elbows. I need to find something to distract myself.
"Thank you for your help, Hermione, you don't know how appreciative we are," Albus said softly. Her mood rose slightly at the sight of his bright blue eyes twinkling at her from across the table. The sparkling shade of sky-blue reminded her of Ron, and she was suddenly very aware of the letter that was still tucked into her stocking.
As soon as Draco and I figure out how to get out of this mess, I'm going home. Away from the secrets and the lies.
Hermione smiled a wan smile and walked over to the worktable on the other end of the room. I need answers. If I let myself think about anything for too long, I'm going to lose my mind. I can't focus on Albus and Horace first; I don't think that they're the most immediate threat. I need to find that story and decipher what that means for Gwaethe and me.
She quietly drummed her fingers on the polished wood, debating whether she dared to simply walk into Slughorn's library and search for the story that Hagrid had mentioned. She decided against it and made herself busy by organizing and polishing the bottles of oils and tinctures that sat on the corner of the table. As she moved some of the larger bottles to the side to dust under them, her eyes widened.
The moon charm that she'd made sat behind one of the decanters; the chain was wrapped around a small piece of parchment. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure that the two men behind her were engrossed in their conversation about the Spanish navy before subtly unrolling the note that Draco had left for her.
Her eyes narrowed as she read the words on the parchment.
If you insist, I'll take you next time. It won't be pleasant, but if you keep your large mouth shut, I will be able to complete my task.
P.S. Don't wear shoes to the oak tonight.
It was signed with an odd symbol that she'd never seen before. Hermione assumed that it was a signature of some kind. She resisted the urge to click her tongue with annoyance at the tone of Draco's note; she wasn't a child.
My mouth is not large!
She slipped the note into her sleeve, careful to conceal the charm and the note in a tiny pocket that she had just quickly made by slipping the tip of a silver knife into the seam between two layers of her dress and rocking it back and forth until the threads parted, leaving her just enough room to stuff the two precious objects inside. Her attention was snapped back to Father Albus as he asked her a question.
Sheepishly, she had to ask him to repeat it.
"Head in the clouds?" He asked cheerfully, gesturing towards Slughorn's restricted section. "Have you perused some of Lord Slughorn's more interesting books?"
Hermione decided against lying. "I have," she admitted, lacing her hands together in front of her stomach. "But I haven't read all of them."
"He has a fascinating section about pagan legends," Albus said merrily, watching her over his half-moon spectacles. "Are you still as eager to read those stories as you were when you were a child?"
Hermione nearly choked; panic flooded into her mouth as she considered his words. She managed to cover her surprise with a cough just in time.
He hadn't mentioned any stories of that kind to her since she was eleven years old. She barely remembered the conversation, but a bitter, acrid note of anxiety pulsed in her chest at his question.
"I can't say that I am. It's been years," she finally replied, glancing over at the bookshelves with new concern. Hermione had decided to take a leap and just ask for the book; while they were on the subject of legends, it was the perfect time to segue into the discussion. However, Father Albus' comment gave her pause.
But why would he ask me that..?
"I may have something that will change your mind," Slughorn said conspiratorially, leaning forwards in his chair. "You see, I have a new addition to the collection that should pique your interest. Albus was most eager to hear your opinion of it."
Before she had a chance to say anything else, Albus stood and gestured for her to come with him. She followed, unsure what on earth he was doing. Her eyes widened as he quickly perused Slughorn's library, finally selecting a book that had a bright green binding that she hadn't seen before.
"I think that you might find this story fascinating," he said quietly, watching her with eyes that sparkled with merriment as she ran a hand over the butter-soft cover. It was embossed with celtic knots and leaves, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from the way that the elegant design made the leaves appear to dance across the length of the jacket.
"It's beautiful. Is it new?" She breathed, forcing her eyes away from the book.
Slughorn waved a dismissive hand. His tone was falsely modest as he puffed his chest outwards. "It's incredibly rare, took me more than a decade to track it down. Only seven copies have been recorded, it's an old legend from the island of Faroe that's been passed down by word of mouth for centuries."
"What is it?" Hermione asked, fighting to keep her breath from sounding breathless as she asked the question; she already knew what it was in her bones.
Slughorn stroked his moustache, waving his hand at the cover. "I was unable to track down a copy in the King's English, but the translation from Gaelic is "Bound Fates". I cannot, for the life of me, pronounce the original title."
"Beatha ceangailte," Hermione whispered, knowing instinctively what the book was. Hagrid's words echoed in her mind as she traced over the embossed title, shimmering with gold leaf. The weight of the book was suddenly almost too much; she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that there was something inside those pages that would change everything.
Her brows knotted together in confusion as she debated throwing the book as far away from her as possible; out the window would be even better.
Either the magic is getting stronger, or something is going on here.
"That's precisely it!" Slughorn declared, tapping the side of his nose as he beamed at her. "Is there anything that our dear Miss Granger can't do! Don't hurry back with the book, my dear, it's sure to enchant you."
Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly at his words, but she wiped all traces of surprise and suspicion from her face. She forced a wan smile to her lips.
"I can't possibly borrow it, but thank you. I can't speak Gaelic, you see-"
"That shouldn't be a trouble, Miss Granger. There is a specialty merchant in the town of Sussex; his interest is in books of unusual character. He will be able to help you find a suitable dictionary," Albus said cheerfully, raising one eyebrow at her. "Mr. Flamel is a renowned author in his own right, he will be more than happy to help you if you mention that we are in acquaintance."
"Nicholas Flamel? As in, the author who penned most of the occult books in your library? The alchemist?" Hermione couldn't help the question that burst from her lips, and she nearly clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the urgency in her tone.
Damn it all. The only mention of him being an alchemist was in Riddle's diary.
To her great relief, neither of the men appeared to notice her slip-up.
"Precisely. They are one and the same," Albus replied, inspecting his goblet. "He and I have been very good friends for a number of years. I would very much like to gift him a lemon, so if you would be so kind as to stop by the chapel before you leave tomorrow, I would be very grateful."
For once, Hermione was struck completely speechless. Even the magic that pulsed through her veins had fallen dormant.
"You may have tomorrow afternoon to visit him. His shop is in the main square of town," Slughorn said crisply, hopping to his feet and bustling towards the door. He opened it with a flourish and gently gestured for her to leave. "My apologies, my dear, but Albus and I have several delicate matters to attend to. You understand that we are privy to many important secrets, I'm sure."
There was no way that Hermione could miss the subtle undertone of his words.
"Of course," Hermione said automatically, still reeling from what she'd learned. "Thank you."
Numbly, she thanked Father Albus and left, cradling the book to her chest. Once she was safely outside in the hallway, she glanced over her shoulder at the door. She heard the key turn in the lock, and she let out a long, shuddering breath. The book still felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds in her hands. It didn't hold the same kind of magnetic power as Tom Riddle's diary, but there was something about it that both confused and terrified her in equal measure.
For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to open it. Something gnawed at her, reminding her that it was odd that Father Albus and Hagrid had both mentioned the same book on the same day. Not to mention that Albus had brought up the one and only conversation that she'd had with him as a child. He'd passed through Ashwood many times over the years, but Hermione had only ever spoken to him alone once.
She chewed on her sore lip for a moment before making a split-second decision. She knew that it was reckless, but there were times when bravery was more important than caution. This was one of those times; she had to know if Albus and Slughorn were up to something that concerned her and Draco.
She silently moved back towards the wooden door and concentrated hard. The magic that lay just underneath her skin began to swirl excitedly in time with her rapidly beating heart. Hermione both thanked and cursed Draco with her next thought; the magic was easier to summon due to his magic reserve being renewed, but that didn't mean that she was comfortable using it.
She closed her eyes. "Minima finestra."
Her still-rudimentary knowledge of Latin made the nearly silent words that puffed out of her mouth stuttering and hesitant, but it appeared to do the trick. As she watched, a tiny hole appeared in the door, allowing the sound of the conversation inside to trickle through the crack. She nearly let out a hiss of pain as an uncalled for spike of pain made her lungs throb. The taste of iron flooded into her mouth, but she stubbornly stifled a pained cough and leaned closer to the tiny window, covering her mouth with her sleeve.
"She doesn't suspect anything?" Slughorn asked insistently. Hermione frowned at his words; without context, they could have meant anything.
"Within the next day, we will know if we are correct. I can tell by her hesitance to answer our questions that Hermione overheard our conversation here several nights ago. She was precisely where she should have been."
Hermione's jaw dropped, and her stomach plummeted into her knees.
"You are certain that you have set her on the right path?"
"Perhaps," Albus mused, "We have given them several of the most crucial tools that they will require to begin their journey. I have not written to anyone, but ideally, the threat of an inquiry by the church should be enough to motivate them to move quickly-"
Hermione jumped backwards at the sudden sound of his chair scraping across the floor. She waved her hand across the door, whispering feverishly as the magic that had twined around her hands in silver strands flowed across the hole, repairing it.
"Reparo!"
Her lungs burned.
She turned on her heel and fled, desperately running down the stairwell outside of the lab. She made as little noise as possible, hoping that Slughorn and Dumbledore wouldn't hear the sound of her shoes skidding along the rock of the stairwell.
She finally found herself on the main floor of the keep, and she pressed herself into a small alcove. She coughed uncontrollably for a moment, frantically trying to clear her lungs of the hot, metallic blood that spread through her mouth.
Her heartrate was still high; she could barely hear anything over the thunderous sound of her blood pumping through her veins. Hermione's eyes widened as she caught sight of the magic that still flickered at the ready under her fingernails. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the power to ebb away. After a moment of her holding her breath, it finally dissipated.
Hermione let out a tiny groan, allowing her head to fall back against the smooth wood of the panelled alcove as the pain ebbed away. The old magic must be angry with me? I was fine to use the magic yesterday, but now, it's painful to try it. I need to talk to Draco about it.
Determinedly, she forced her mind to another subject.
So it wasn't a coincidence that I overheard that conversation. Somehow, they knew that I was there.
How could they have known-
Her thoughts flashed to Harry, but she quickly dismissed any notion that he had betrayed her location. He was too open and too honest; Hermione had learned that her gut reaction these days was often the correct course. She wasn't concerned about him.
Father Albus isn't what he seems, and I still need to find out who exactly Horace Slughorn is. There's something important that they're not telling me. If they know about the fae, then they may know what's happening to me. If they don't know, then what's the end game?
Ugh, my brain is spinning. I'm too tired to speculate.
Maybe meeting Draco later will illuminate a few things, she thought wistfully, plodding down the corridor towards her small room. The sun was starting to descend in the sky; she only had a few hours to waste before she was to meet him.
She intended to use every possible minute to come up with a plan that would keep them both alive. She needed to go back to the library.
Gwaethe leaned back on his heels, staring up at the bright moon that shone its light into the clearing where he stood. The cold night air was invigorating to his tired body; he hadn't managed to sleep a wink, despite attempting to rest that afternoon. He'd meditated for several hours instead, but his mind wasn't nearly as calm as it should have been.
His curiosity burned a hole in his stomach as he thought. He was both resentful and relieved that his mother had seen fit to only speak to Hermione through Tom Riddle's diary. He didn't relish the thought of trying to explain how he had failed to find Narcissa, despite years of searching. He relished the thought of coming into contact with the book even less.
His thoughts wandered to Hermione, and he let out a quiet sigh. He suspected that she'd used more magic; he'd experienced several rushes of power that had no apparent cause. For the first time, he was considering her safety even more than he was worried about his own. He knew how to hide his presence, but Hermione clearly didn't realize the waves that her magic use was going to cause if she couldn't rein the power in.
Draco's eyes snapped to the side as the sound of rustling leaves greeted his ears. Hermione strode quickly into the clearing, clearly searching for him. He remained silent, waiting, as she bustled around, stirring up crackling leaves. His eyes narrowed as he took in her pinched, worried expression.
Something was different about her, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
"What are you doing?" He finally asked, crossing his arms and watching her with vague amusement as she spun around. He stepped out of the half-darkness.
Draco fought to keep a small smirk away from his lips as Hermione's irritated gaze quickly settled on him. The way that her eyes flashed when she was upset was strangely satisfying.
"You startled me," she said accusingly, crossing her arms. "Why were you in the shadows?"
"No reason in particular," he replied, stepping closer. "You wore shoes, even though I told you not to."
Hermione flushed. "It's cold. I can take them off if necessary."
"Are you ready to tell me what you're up to now?"
She ignored the barb. "Yes. I learned a few things today. Why did you leave the moon charm in the laboratory? I risked a lot to make that for you, you know."
Anticipation curled through his veins. They were working their way up to a nice, calming row, and Draco was looking forward to it. It didn't matter what the argument was about, he was itching to take his mind off of his mortality.
"I no longer need it. It's far too rustic for a lord to wear, so I took it off," Draco replied smoothly, expertly skipping over the answer to the question that she wanted. Hermione's expression fell slightly, and he watched her closely as she looped the necklace over her head, tucking it into her bodice.
"My mouth is not large by the way, it's unnecessary for you to be so rude," Hermione sniffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest and pursing her lips.
It was a strangely endearing gesture, and Gwaethe was suddenly reminded of the child that she had once been.
"I was referring to the way that you chatter incessantly," he quipped, noticing with some chagrin that his tone held a fraction of the venom that he usually infused into his acerbic observations.
"My point still stands," she muttered. "You could have just said that you don't need to wear it anymore."
He didn't feel like explaining. Besides the fact that he had enough magic to hold his own for the moment, the metal of the charm contained enough iron to have left a small burn mark on his chest. He changed the subject instead.
"What have you learned?"
She took a long, shaking breath. "Do you want the good, bad, or terrible news first?"
That didn't bode well.
Draco mused for a short moment before he nodded. "Terrible news first."
"Ever since last night, every time that I use the magic, I experience pain. The last time that I did it, I coughed up blood," Hermione whispered. "Something's happening to me. Please tell me that you aren't experiencing the same thing."
"That is the cost of disturbing the balance," Draco murmured. Worry spiked through his veins as he regarded her. "I suspected that you were far more powerful since last night. I could sense it. This is the wrath of the Old Magic. It will get worse."
Her lips parted, and she sucked in a shocked breath as he impulsively stepped closer to her. Her pupils dilated, and he couldn't help his transfixed stare as her eyes glimmered with tiny flecks of gold. He didn't need to hear her to know that her heart was hammering, pulsing with uncertainty and a tiny measure of fear.
"Have you been affected? You didn't answer my question."
"Not yet."
For the first time, he hoped that she wasn't afraid of him. Irritably, he reminded himself that he personally didn't care what she thought of him, but her fear would get in the way of their plan to break their bond.
"Why is my magic so unpredictable?" She whispered, not moving an inch as his hand slowly reached out to turn her hand, revealing the silver light that silently flashed underneath her skin. Her hand seemed so small, dwarfed by his wide palm as he inspected her skin. He could feel her pulse now, thundering through the thin skin of her wrist.
"I'm stronger now, it serves to reason that you are reacting to the magic that I have," he said carefully, watching her intently. "I have enough power to stay healthy, although I do not know how long it will last. Apparently, if I am weak, then you are strong."
"I see," she said quietly, watching him with an enigmatic expression that, for once, didn't give away any of her thoughts. "You are stronger now, so I'm weaker. Why aren't you experiencing pain when you don't have much magic?"
"I was in pain last night," he shot at her, fighting against the annoyance that wove through his belly. Draco forced himself to relax, unclenching his fist and releasing the tension in his shoulders. "I was experiencing symptoms. That's why I was so desperate to make a deal."
Hermione hummed her agreement. "One of us must shoulder that, I guess. What happens if we are both weak or both strong?"
"I don't know."
"Why is it changing now? Why wouldn't it have affected us before?"
Draco shrugged. "We're close to one another now. I told you that fae magic is unpredictable. Is it reacting to my presence?"
"I think so," she replied shakily. "Can you feel it?"
Silently, Draco nodded. He couldn't drag his gaze away from her wrist.
Her blood sang with magic. It practically flooded through her veins, and he forced himself to focus on anything other than the way that the power called to him. It wasn't earth magic, of that he was certain. Her blood pulsed in time with his heightened heartbeat, and he couldn't deny his curiosity.
He let out a shaking breath, determined to think about anything other than the longing that thrummed through every atom of his body. The magic was off limits for now, and he knew damn well that there was no point in indulging his self-pity.
Hermione made a small sound as if she was about to speak, but her words died on her lips. Her exhaustion was evident in the cast of her eyes as she took a deep breath and looked down at their hands, which were still touching. She tensed slightly as if to pull away, and Draco was strangely relieved when she didn't move an inch.
"Tell me what you're thinking," Draco said insistently, inspecting her face for any clue to her answer. He wasn't disappointed as Hermione drew in a shaking breath and raised her gaze.
"What happens if I can't control it? It burst out of me earlier, responding to my emotions, a-and I could have killed someone! It was a near miss, but Lady Parkinson was just so rude-"
Her volume dropped further, and Draco had to lean in slightly to hear her speak. His eyes widened slightly in surprise.
"What did you do?"
"I don't really know," Hermione admitted miserably, "One minute I was angry with her for being so cruel to Hagrid, and the next, there was a wave of magic that exploded out of me. Pansy almost got hit with a huge branch; it would have killed her for sure had it struck her."
"We need to work on your aim," Draco said drily, smirking as her horrified expression turned on him. "What? She's insufferable."
"That's not the point!"
"Get to the point then," he murmured, raising his eyebrow at her.
"Can you explain what happened?"
He didn't have an answer for her, and that rattled him. "No. And what happened to you last night?"
"I just woke up, for no reason. There was a rush, and then a light, and then nothing. I awoke to an illusion of my home. Ever since then, I can't seem to control it."
"What do you mean, control it?"
"The magic keeps seeping out of my skin-"
"Show me," he murmured, unable to keep his hunger from his tone. She shied away for a second before something new flashed across her expression. Draco couldn't resist his tiny shiver of anticipation; he knew that look.
She was determined, and that was exactly what he needed. Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Suddenly, they snapped open; she'd made up her mind.
"You need to get some kind of reaction out of me," she said insistently, searching his face with an intensity in her golden eyes that made him want to shrink away and hide. Determinedly, he drew his shoulders back.
"Boo," he said mockingly, smirking as her expression hardened.
"That's not what I asked, and you know it!" She hissed.
"What makes you think that I will do anything that you ask, human?" He purred, relishing at how easy it was to annoy her. "You demand too much of me."
"When I have I ever demanded-"
"Stop talking," he ordered, "Look!"
"Draco-"
"Shut up," he snapped, gesturing with a jerk of his head.
"How are you such an arse-"
Draco's hand flew up, silencing her right in the middle of her infuriated reply. "Look, Granger."
"Oh," she breathed. Her eyes widened and she let out a short, breathless laugh. "It worked. Bloody hell."
Draco, strangely, found that he had to agree.
Silently, moving as quickly as smoke, her skin began to glow with tendrils of barely-constrained magic. Draco's eyes widened as the glowing light began to stream towards him, enveloping his hands in a shimmering mist.
He reflexively closed his palms, wallowing in his sudden rush of frustration as his hands passed straight through the smoke without absorbing any of it. His confusion deepened as the power swirled over the surface of his skin, drawn to his innate magic.
"What have you done to it?" He demanded, trying once more to grab onto the magic and force it into his body. His efforts were fruitless, and his anger bubbled to the surface. "This was my magic, and you've corrupted it-"
"I haven't done anything! This is new! I told you that I can't control it!" Hermione hissed, prompting yet more magic to pour out of her body. She blazed with an unearthly glow, and the jealousy that reared its ugly head in Draco's belly tempted him to attempt to overpower her and take it back by force.
No. I will not harm her.
Years of frustration poured into his already dark mood, and Hermione must have seen something in his face that frightened her; she took several hurried steps backward.
Draco's chest suddenly constricted painfully; he'd never felt a pang of regret this fierce.
Still struck by the fear that was so clearly etched into her expressive face, Draco turned away, forcing himself to breathe through the anger that still threatened to overtake his careful control. "I have no intention of harming you, Granger. It was a lapse in civility."
She made a small sound of disbelief, which prompted him to whirl and face her. "What?"
"You can't keep doing that," she said firmly, drawing herself up to her full height and glaring at him with a stare so fierce that she could have easily melted glass. "There's only so much that I can take. You need me more than I need you-"
"Don't threaten me," he replied coldly, turning to face her fully. His tone was icy, and she reddened at the accusation in his tone. "I'm trying to learn to get along with you. You haven't learned a thing. I have spent years trying to get my power back, and you have so much of it that it is literally overflowing. You'd be ornery in my position. "
Her mien softened slightly, and she crossed her arms protectively across her stomach. "Fine. How would you control it?"
"First, you need to learn to assert some kind of power over your emotions," he replied softly, tilting his head to the side to study her. "Your emotions usually control you, but today it's worse. Why?"
Her expression darkened, and she took a step towards him, pointing an accusatory finger at his chest. "That is none of your business, Malfoy. Stay out of my head!"
"I can't read your thoughts, honestly, how you managed to function-"
"Shut up! You have secrets, and so do I!" She snapped. She hurriedly turned away from him, but she wasn't quick enough to hide the emotion that shone in her eyes. Draco's first thought was to force the truth out of her, but he held his tongue. There was something about the tension in her shoulders that bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
"I don't want to know your secrets. But if it is something that will affect our lives, then I have a right to know."
"It has nothing to do with you," she said sharply, shifting her left foot almost imperceptibly. His gaze dropped to her leg; she was hiding something physical on her person.
"Fine. Then drop it."
She opened her mouth as if to reply, but thought better of it and closed her mouth. She glowered at him instead.
"We'll address the first lesson, then. You need to control the magic before anything else happens," he said smoothly, forcibly ignoring the way that his chest tightened just slightly once again as her ever expressive face betrayed the fact that she was immensely relieved that he hadn't pried.
He didn't want to admit it, but the fact that she was hiding something from him threw him for a loop; every time that he thought that he'd figured out how she thought, she'd do something that surprised him. "Your body will react to it and harm you if you can't keep it contained."
"What do you suggest?"
He sighed. "Well, first, you need a conduit. There isn't enough power in my body to channel yours, so you have to use a tool."
Her eyebrows rose, and Draco had to admit that he didn't mind the sight of her nose scrunching up in confusion. "Like what?"
He hesitated, reminding himself that getting frustrated wasn't likely to help anything. "A-what do you call it in your world-a wand?"
"No! I'm not keeping something that is going to get me burned at the stake," she began hotly, tossing her wild curls over her shoulder. "Don't be stupid-"
A quiet, deep growl of annoyance rumbled out of Draco's throat as he strode forwards, snatching her small hand in his and turning her hand so that the inside of her wrist faced him. She cut off, watching him with wild eyes as he drew a small line down the length of her forearm with his finger.
"You won't be walking around with anything! Let me get my words out, troublesome human," he half-yelled, imploring her with his expression to shut up and let him talk for once. "You'll store it here. It won't appear unless you need it. It's meant to help you-"
"No, absolutely not!"
"Then why bother asking me for help-"
He trailed off into his first language. His frustration rippled across his tongue as he spoke of shattering rock and crashing waves. He knew that Hermione would only hear foreign words, but he didn't really care. He felt like being a little bit petty. After saying a few rude words that would only sound like rippling water to her ears, he took a breath and looked her in the eye.
"Fine, out with your questions, then, Granger. You bloody humans always insist on knowing everything," he grumbled. "You'll never see reason until you get answers."
Hermione relaxed slightly, although her heartbeat still thundered against his palm. Her voice was breathier than he'd ever heard it when she finally found her voice to reply. "How does the wand work?"
"You can store some of your power inside of it, if we can find the right ingredients to make a proper one. That should take the edge off enough that the magic won't attack your body," Draco replied. He hurriedly let go of her wrist, taking a step back from her and crossing his arms. "Think of it as a symbiotic relationship."
"A…what?" She tilted her head to the side.
Draco's brow furrowed. They really don't understand much about their world.
"It's a…beneficial relationship of sorts. You'll be bonded to it, giving it life. In return, it will work as a tool for the magic to pass out of your body."
"I'm cautiously intrigued," she admitted, raking a stray curl away from her face.
"I do have one proposition regarding its use."
"What is it?" She asked cautiously, absentmindedly rubbing the place where his skin had touched hers. Draco forced himself to ignore the tiny flicker of annoyance that her reaction had elicited and focused on searching for the most neutral way to say what he was thinking.
"If you store enough power in it, I might be able to use it. Think of it as a small energy source that we can share."
She glowered at him. "So, you just want to use me to get your magic back."
"That's the point of this arrangement. With how it's affecting your body, you can't expect me to believe that you want to keep it," he reminded her, rather coldly. "I will help you, but I require your cooperation. It will benefit us both. I can keep my body strong, and you should be able to control the magic. If you insist, I will share the wand with you."
She regarded him with thinly-veiled suspicion. "How do I know that you're telling the truth?"
Draco's face flushed. "How many times do I have to tell you, I can't lie-"
"Gwaethe-"
He flinched. Her tone was commanding, and it sent a bolt of panic through his body.
"Don't-!" Draco snapped as he stumbled backwards a half-step. The moment of silence that stretched between them grew almost painful as he recovered. Hermione, thankfully, didn't say anything. It took a moment for his heartrate to return to normal, and he huffed out a long sigh before raising his head. "You shouldn't use my name, it's dangerous for me."
Her eyes widened.
Any hankering that he'd been nursing for a row had been killed stone dead, and he gritted his jaw; he needed to tell her a little bit more about fae magic, lest she use his name and force him to go careening off of a cliff.
She's going to get me killed.
He ran a hand over his face, finally accepting that although she was clever, she had to be told an annoyingly large number of things. "Sit down; I have some explaining to do, clearly. I should have told you this the moment that you used it the first time."
She moved slowly, obviously hesitating. With a grunt, he gracefully flopped to the ground and pressed his palms together, searching for the most efficient way to explain something that had taken him nearly five hundred years to understand.
"Naming and blood magic are what created us," he began, gesturing with one long-fingered hand. "We search for the essence of something in order to control it. The more names that you know, the more things there are that you can manipulate. It's unusual to reveal your name, and I'm starting to think that I was incredibly thick to have let you know what mine is."
"I see," she said quietly. "Anyone can have control over you if they learn it. So, the way that I just used it…"
Draco let out a small, relieved sigh. "Yes, that's essentially it. Draco is as good a name as any, it will do for now."
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "And you're right. I don't want to keep this magic, not after learning what it's capable of."
"Right, okay," Draco said lamely, mentally kicking himself for failing to come up with something scathing and witty to say. He was too damn tired to try and antagonize her any further tonight.
"Can I ask you something?"
He sighed. "Yes."
"Your mother mentioned something about blood and names," Hermione trailed off, watching him expectantly. Oddly enough, he didn't mind indulging her curiosity for once.
"She is correct. Fae magic relies on them, as I mentioned. Earth magic can use them, to an extent, although it's not quite the same thing."
"How does the blood work?"
Draco shrugged. "Sometimes, you can force something to reveal its nature using blood. I won't explain it to you; in all likelihood, it would kill you outright."
She paled slightly. "Duly noted. So how do you learn true names? Can they be taught?"
Draco let out a small hum of thought, searching for the right way to explain the concept.
"They reveal themselves to you, no one knows why or when. It's only a testament to my age that I know the names of most of the plants and trees of this world, water, and some of the stars, but that's about as much as I've been able to learn."
"How do you use it?"
"To use them requires an exchange of energy, which is why there is so much excess power in your veins. To name something is to use what energy you already have to manipulate the energy that is taken from the thing that is named."
"So you call whatever it is into existence?"
"Yes," he replied simply, pleased that Hermione had caught on.
She hesitated, clearly mulling her question over in her head as she thought. "So, the more energy that you expend to name something, the greater the cost it is to your body."
"Yes. There are certain names that require too much power. They can never be used; the caster wouldn't survive. You couldn't control more than a rock at the moment."
She rolled her eyes. A tiny smirk ghosted around Draco's mouth at her reaction.
"Are you saying that I need to name things in order to use your magic?"
"No, but, you aren't using the fae magic the way that it should be used, hence the blood. You're being very stupid about it, by the way."
"How so?" Hermione demanded, sitting bolt upright.
"You are using my magic as if it were earth magic. Earth magic can be thrown around, used without an exchange. There must be balance with fae magic; otherwise it will turn inwards and cause harm. There's currently no transfer of energy when you've used it, which is why it's seeping out of your body and misbehaving. The wand will do the exchanging for you," he said impatiently, waving his hands.
"Why is earth magic different? Why is it working?"
"You don't need to know the details," he replied evasively. "It is taken, not given. Therefore, no exchange is required. It's different, less…elegant. It only works as well as it does because my magic gives you an edge. Without it, you couldn't access the magic at all."
She let out a tiny snort of derision, making his eyes narrow. "What?"
She shrugged. "Interesting word choice."
He glowered at her. "Since you seem to want to get rid of it, you shouldn't need to learn to use it."
She shivered. "Fair point, I don't want it to be in my body. How old are you, by the way?"
He was pleased that Hermione had changed the subject. Hearing his name had sent a shiver of foreign unease down his spine; before Hermione, he'd never told anyone other than his mother the name that had been given to him. The fact that Narcissa had seen fit to trust this human with his secret was a cautious step in the right direction; if she trusted Hermione, then perhaps he should attempt to shift his perspective on her kind somewhat.
Draco shrugged. "Time passes differently on your world, so I'm probably…two thousand years old?"
Her eyes quickly went as wide as saucers. He could practically hear her brain whirring as she calculated.
"Give or take a few centuries," he added quickly, attempting to smother a tiny smirk that once more threatened to spread over his mouth at her reaction. "One year on your world is roughly a quarter of a year on mine."
"That explains your eyes," she breathed, crossing her arms and surveying him so thoroughly that he was tempted to take a step back into the shadows. Her gaze was unnerving; he couldn't shake the feeling that she was analyzing him down to the smallest detail.
"What about them?" He asked sharply.
"I can't explain it, but you look like you've been through a lot. Your eyes have a weight to them, uh, it's not a concept that I've been able to find words for," she said hurriedly, breaking eye contact and playing with her hands.
"I've been alive for a long time. Which is why I'd like to continue to live," Draco muttered, choosing to drop the subject. He decided to steer them back towards the subject at hand before she made up her mind to ask him some more invasive questions. "Back to the matter at hand, then. The wand will allow us to keep balance between our magics."
"Our magics?"
"Yes. Fae and earth. If I have to continue to explain that, I'm not likely to remain civil. You led me to believe that you were clever," Draco said irritably. "The Old Magic requires balance. Right now, the scales are tipped. If you give me some magic, fae will return to fae. That will buy us more time."
"The scales are tipped," Hermione repeated thoughtfully, twisting a curl around her finger.
"Like this," Draco drawled, raising both hands in an exaggerated pantomime. He dropped his right hand for emphasis.
"Oh shut it," Hermione said irritably. "That's not helpful."
"I disagree," he said lowly, watching her through his thick eyelashes. "You need to understand the concept if you're to make use of it."
"How does that apply to me? I can't use earth magic," Hermione asked bluntly. Draco nearly rolled his eyes before he caught himself. Patience is the only way that I'll get through this. If she doesn't learn this lesson, she'll never leave me in peace until she figures it out.
"It doesn't matter; you should be able to sense it, at the very least. Our first deal has changed something in you; you have a knack for it that wouldn't have appeared otherwise. You shouldn't be using my magic the way that you do. Take your shoes off and I'll show you," he answered tightly. She watched him for a moment before slowly untying her leather shoes and slipping them off of her feet.
"Now, stand up and tell me what you feel," he continued, crossing his arms and watching her as she did what he asked.
"Nothing. I'm freezing, can I-"
"No. Use the magic, Granger," Draco muttered. "I don't give a shit if your feet are cold."
"Oh." She concentrated hard, screwing up her face into a strange grimace until her eyes snapped open. He listened along with her, allowing his mind to let the deafening racket of earth magic rise to the surface of his consciousness. Her wondering expression made another pang of envy flare to life in Draco's belly.
"What do you sense?" He asked, unconsciously leaning closer to her. Silver light began to trail in faint wisps over her skin as she laughed breathlessly.
"It's like a heartbeat. I've never felt this before. All of the trees are connected, and the mushrooms, and even the dirt-"
"Yes. You feel this and you don't even know their names," Draco said quietly, staring at the magic that was still rising off of her skin. "You feel this because I know some of them. What you aren't doing is allowing some of that energy to dissipate. The wand isn't a permanent solution, but it should do for now until we are able to sever our bond entirely. You cannot house this much fae magic and expect to remain healthy."
"Is it dangerous?"
He huffed out a quiet laugh. "Yes. But what alternative do you have? You are full of fae magic, and I am full of earth magic. Neither one of us can take this for long. The earth magic can't hurt you; it was made for this world."
She fell silent for a long moment before sighing. "Fine, we should make a wand. Shall we discuss the other two things that I need to tell you first?"
"Very well."
"Father Albus and Slughorn know something," she admitted slowly, wincing as his gaze bore into her. "I don't know how they found out-"
"You're throwing magic everywhere, are you honestly surprised-"
"Shut up and listen! You wanted the bad news first, so now you're going to listen to me tell you about the good news," Hermione snapped, "They know that there is fae involvement, but apparently they are trying to steer us in some predetermined direction. I think that we should pretend to know nothing, at least for now. I don't think they know exactly what's going on between us."
Draco snapped his mouth shut. He wasn't often baffled, but he certainly was at the moment. "Continue, then."
"If they want us to follow in a particular direction, I want to find out what it is. I overheard Father Albus say that the threat of the church was a bluff to get us moving more quickly. I think their end goal has something to do with this book."
She reached into her small leather bag that she wore looped over her shoulder and withdrew a lovely book bound with green leather. Draco's eyebrow rose as she held it out to him. "Hagrid mentioned that this story could help us, and then Father Albus and Horace practically forced it into my hands. It's an old Faroe story apparently, and I can't shake the feeling that they want us to read it because it will offer us some hint as to how to fix our problem."
"How do they know?" Draco asked bluntly. "Why are you telling people about us?"
"Only one person! I needed help, and Hagrid is trustworthy," she insisted, tightening her hands on the book until her knuckles went white. "And I was right, he told me about this legend."
"What is the story?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "But, I know that Hagrid's intentions aren't sinister. Tom Riddle's diary mentioned something about binding his apprentice to a fae, and they both died. If there is anything in this book that could help us, we should try to find out. Your mother gave me the hint."
"I have a sneaking suspicion that there is a catch," Draco said quietly, watching her like a hawk. Hermione's eyes flashed with irritation for a split second before she recovered her composure.
"Not exactly. It appears that Nicholas Flamel has a book shop in town," she said pointedly, tapping her finger on the embossed cover of the book. "Quite a coincidence, don't you think? I was looking for his name in the library this morning, and his location fell into my lap this afternoon."
He nodded. He didn't trust himself to say anything; the peace between them was fragile as it was. Draco didn't like the idea of being led around by two Machiavellian men with potentially dangerous intentions, but he couldn't fault Hermione's logic.
"I can go alone, I don't need you to accompany me-"
"No, I'll come with you," Draco said firmly. "I want to hear for myself what the hell this is all about."
Despite his reservations, a tiny ember of hope pulsed in his chest. Any clue, especially one that came from the islands where his mother had held power, couldn't be ignored. Hermione breathed a tiny sigh of relief as she tucked the book back into her bag.
"Alright. Good. So the next thing is to facilitate your recovery so that you can leave the grounds as you choose," she said quickly, pulling out a small mushroom. "Your nighttime excursions have most likely led to the guards outside your rooms."
Draco frowned. "You can't be serious. That fungus is poisonous."
"Yes," she acquiesced, nodding. A small smile played around the corners of her mouth. "So it's a good thing that we both have magic."
"What are you getting at?"
"You need a dramatic, irrefutable recovery. If it doesn't happen, there will be questions, and I may be sent away."
Hermione's words ignited a complex mix of emotions; most of which bordered on fear and worry. If she was gone, his chances of surviving dwindled to almost nothing. "What do you suggest?"
"So here's my idea," she continued, "Tonight, we make this wand and you take it with you when you leave. I made a small bottle of medicine, but you aren't going to take it yet. You're actually going to eat a small piece of a mushroom that will put you to sleep until I administer the antidote."
Draco laughed softly. "That's your miracle cure? The whole thing is ridiculous-"
"Listen, please! I can pull you out of the deep sleep. The next step is to insist that I must be your constant companion in case of a relapse. That way, it won't be strange if we are ever together –in a public setting- of course," she said hastily, flushing furiously at the sight of the small, mocking smile that slid over Draco's mouth at her words.
"What do you suggest to keep my body alive?" He asked slowly, relishing the way that her cheeks reddened further. "I'm not immune to poison."
"No, you wouldn't be. That is where the wand will come in handy; with your help I should be able to put some kind of healing spell on it. Perhaps you should store it inside your body. Can we forge some of it from the moonlight?"
"You've thought this through," Draco said slowly. His expression softened a mite, and he ran a hand through his silvery hair.
"I was busy thinking while you spoke to me as if I were a child," Hermione replied. "We don't have time to twiddle our thumbs, as you've so helpfully established. So, I took a page out of some of the fairy tale stories that got us into this mess. Poetic, isn't it."
For once, Gwaethe found himself entirely speechless. Her plan had come together so quickly that he'd been caught off guard. To implant a source of moonlight directly into his blood, one forged from magic to boot, was a far better plan that he'd come up with. She could replenish it with fae magic from outside of his body, and he wouldn't have to worry about becoming so weak that his body would give out.
"Maybe," he finally admitted. "The plan is alright, but we don't know-"
"I know," she blurted out, taking a step towards him. "But it should give me enough time to read the book and figure out how to break our bond."
He watched her silently for a long moment, and just as she made a small move as if to break the silence, he raised a hand. "Very well, Granger. I'd better not regret this."
"You won't," Hermione insisted immediately, reaching out to deposit the mushroom on his palm. He sighed and pocketed it, steeling himself for what was to come.
"We shouldn't waste time. Close your eyes."
"Why?"
Draco reminded himself to breathe normally; patience was still something that continued to elude him. Why is she so annoying?
"I don't ask much of you, Granger, so just stop questioning everything that I ask you to do and trust me. I'm placing my trust in you, so shut your gob-"
She made a small sound of surprise, and he couldn't keep his gaze away from her. Her cheeks had flushed, and there was a new kind of warmth in her eye that both confused and startled him. She was looking at him like he'd just promised her something precious and his mood plummeted.
She thinks that she's winning because I'm trying to trust her. Why is she like this? I can't figure this damn sam'eseha out.
He almost felt guilty at his avoidance of the word ma'helb'eha. Draco's stomach flip flopped uncomfortably at the word that his brain had spat out instead; it hadn't even crossed his mind that his perspective had shifted slightly.
He also didn't like the tiny, flickering ember of contentment that pulsed in his chest at the sight of her pleased expression; it was so different from the determined, anxious cast that normally graced her expression that he was thrown. Determinedly, he hardened his heart to her once more and gestured impatiently for her to close her eyes. Slowly, she complied with his request, and as soon as her intense gaze had left him, he relaxed somewhat.
Gingerly, he stepped behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. Hermione tensed, holding herself rigid. Draco let out a tiny huff of annoyance and she immediately relaxed, although he could see her hesitation.
"Concentrate," he reminded her, none-too gently as she squeezed her eyes shut harder and took what he assumed to be a calming breath. "You're searching for anything that calls to you. Focus on the trees."
Hermione breathed out a long breath. She listened to Draco's words, breathing with the pulse of the forest. Magic palpitated upwards, like a tiny heartbeat in the soles of her feet as she stood rigidly still. To her surprise, she didn't feel the cold anymore; she was too busy wondering at the life that flowed through every inch of the woods.
"How did I not notice this before?" She asked wonderingly. She was tempted to just take off running, just to see what she could discover. Draco's steadying hands on her shoulders grounded her, and she forcibly yanked her attention back to the present.
She could feel Draco's shrug. "You weren't listening before. Earth magic is loud."
"In what way?"
"Like you, it's annoying. Focus, or we'll be out here all night," he grumped, hardening his tone. Hermione was surprised to find that she didn't care about the small insult; for some reason he didn't really seem to have the heart to provoke her at the moment. He just sounded tired, which reminded her of her own exhaustion. She had to agree with him, and the thought sent a small pulse of warmth through her palms.
"What do I need to do?"
"You need to picture the wand," Draco murmured. His breath ghosted across the back of Hermione's ear, and she shivered. "That will help narrow your search. You'll know when you have the right image in mind."
"Why?"
Draco sighed. "The tree will choose you. Don't try to force a connection; it'll speak to you when you're ready. The wand always chooses its user."
In her mind's eye, she pictured a comically large baton, as tall as she was and as thick as her thumb. Hurriedly, she discarded that idea and after shuttling through several ideas that didn't seem quite right, she finally managed to settle on a foot length of wood that was subtly decorated with flowing leaves.
"I have an idea," she breathed, reminding herself to keep her eyes shut as Draco's right hand left her right shoulder. Hermione flinched with surprise as his finger tapped her left temple. Her eyes flew open, staring at him with wide-eyed shock as he tapped her face again. His silvery eyes were barely two inches from hers, and Hermione had to remind herself to breathe.
"You're fighting me," Draco said bluntly, narrowing his eyes at her. "Stop thinking so much and let me use the memory."
"What..?" She asked weakly.
"Unclench, Granger. Stop looking at me like you think I'm about to ravish you," he muttered, raking a hand through his mop of hair. "Let go of the memory of the wand. I'm going to use it."
"Like this?"
"Yes. Don't move."
Hermione's jaw dropped as a thread of silvery light emerged from her temple, twisting and weaving around Draco's finger. He withdrew his hand and stepped away from her, cradling the shining silver light in his hands.
"Alright. Good."
"What now?" Hermione asked breathlessly, poking at the twisting silver fragment. It curled automatically around her finger, and she let out a quiet laugh of disbelief. "What is this?"
"A memory. It's going to lead us to the wand," Draco replied quietly. "You need to mark it as yours, so that the wand will only work for you. My magic called it into being, so it'll work for me if you aren't touching it."
Hermione's hand suddenly withdrew from the dancing fragment. She eyed it, suddenly unsure if she was ready to use the magic.
"How do I do that?" Hermione asked warily, worrying at her lip as she thought. She forced her left hand to drop; unconsciously, she'd been pawing at the scar under her chin. Draco's eyes flashed in the faint moonlight as he took a step away. The glowing thread of memory swirled listlessly between his palms, illuminating his angular face with an alien radiance.
"You need a drop of your blood."
The way that he said it sent a small spike of panic through Hermione's veins. He was oddly calm, watching her with an intensity that she'd come to expect of him; but the cast of his eyes was eerily similar to the way that he'd looked at her when they'd first met. Hermione was suddenly reminded of what he was. Despite their agreement, he was trapped, same as her. She didn't know him well enough to judge what he was capable of, and she suddenly felt like a fool for blindly trusting his instructions.
Distrust flared in her belly, and she stared at him for a moment, frozen in place, before she clenched her fists.
"Is there any other way?"
Draco's expression softened a mite, and for that she was immensely grateful. Guilt replaced the distrust in her system; she'd been too quick to assume that he had sinister intentions. She disliked the gnawing feeling of suspicion that lay just beneath the surface of her thoughts. He'd told her flat out that he had no intention of harming her; she had heard the words leave his lips.
Fae can't lie.
Hermione liked to see the best in people, and at the moment, she wasn't proud of her rush to judge Draco's quiet request. As he'd once pointed out, she barely held the high ground.
His reply was what made up her mind; she was going to trust him.
"No one can duplicate your blood. This is fae magic; I don't know any other way to make the wand."
Hermione sighed. "Alright. What do I need to do?"
A strange new glint in his eye made her stomach do a nervous little flip, but she determinedly stepped closer as he beckoned. His delicate, long-fingered hands gently cupped the now-frantically twisting silver light of memory, and she couldn't help but stare at the tiny smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"Just follow the memory. Go!"
With that, he opened his palm. The memory rose into the air for a second before it spun wildly and took off through the trees, leaving streaking, silver wisps of magic to dissipate among the branches.