Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
"You went and talked to Malfoy?"
Hermione sighed, running her hand through her hair in preparation for the same argument, tossing the curls over her shoulder like she always did when she was nervous.
She was in the kitchen with the rest of the Order currently staying at Headquarters. She, Lupin and Tonks were sitting, with Harry, Ron and Seamus standing, demonstrating the distinctive sides of the argument.
At the moment, though her fingers were twisting in her hair, Hermione's eyes were fixed on the three men who for some reason, could not just let her be.
"I did," she responded, taking deep, measured breaths, hoping a calm front would deescalate what she assumed was soon to be a screaming match. "We had a very civil conversation."
"Do you know," Ron said, his voice shaking, with red splotches appearing on his neck and face. "How absolutely stupid that was?"
She blinked several times, irritation triumphing over her attempt at civility. "Oh, I didn't. That's why you're here, right Ron? To tell me how fucking stupid I am."
He took one step towards her before Harry grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back.
"Hermione," the latter said, pushing his black hair out of his face, the crease between his eyebrows showing his worry. "What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking that maybe I should talk to the person who is being offered asylum here," she snapped, drumming her fingers impatiently on the kitchen table. "Did you honestly think I'd never speak to the man?"
"Why would there be any reason for you to?" Seamus demanded, crossing his arms.
"I don't know, maybe because we LIVE IN THE SAME HOUSE."
"You are all arguing in circles," Tonks interrupted, her hair changing from pink to red in agitation. "Draco is, at the moment, under asylum at Headquarters. As one of the permanent residents of this building, it is likely that Hermione is going to interact with him."
"That's true," Lupin added on. "Frankly, the three of you are treating Hermione like some sort of fragile object that needs safeguarding."
"Thank you," Hermione responded, exasperated, flopping back in her chair. "I don't need you three to act as my bodyguards, especially not against Draco Malfoy."
"Seems that man is all anyone talks about these days," Blaise's voice said, as the Slytherin sauntered into the kitchen and joined the conversation. Falling into a seat like this was his own kitchen table, he pouted at Hermione. "What is it? The hair?"
She chuckled at him while the other men fumed.
"I don't feel comfortable with you around him," Harry said, ignoring Blaise's entry entirely.
"Well, that's nice Harry, but I don't give a rat's ass what you're comfortable with."
"God, Hermione, stop being so obnoxious," Ron snarled, his hands in tight fists at his sides. "We are just looking out for your best interests."
"In theory, yes," she replied. "But not in any form of reality. Especially not this one."
"How is not wanting you near Death Eater scum not looking out for your best interests?"
Hermione sighed, getting tired of fighting the same fight over and over again. Blaise, sensing her discomfort, rose from the table and poured a cup of tea. Placing it in front of Hermione, he shot her a sympathetic look. Reaching forward, she took his hand for a moment in gratitude, gently grazing her thumb over his knuckles.
Seamus eyed hers and Blaise's intertwined hands. She could almost feel heat from his burning gaze. Shifting uncomfortably under the scrutiny, she took her hand back, and turned back to the men.
"A few things," she started, folding her hands in her lap. "He is not Death Eater scum. He's a deserter."
"Still scum," Harry pointed out.
"I'm not disagreeing with you," she responded, rolling her eyes. "Secondly, I'm a powerful witch who, thanks to this tattoo, has a brand new power source on her side. When you grabbed me the other day, Harry, I burned you off without an ounce of effort or thought. And that you were trying to get my attention. Imagine what this mark would do if someone was trying to harm me."
There was a moment of silence.
"I think it's protecting me," she muttered, more to herself than to anyone else. Her eyes fell on the willow tree. "I heard something the other day, whispers in the back of my head…"
"You're hearing voices?" Harry asked, his voice shooting up several octaves in worry. "Hermione, you know what happens when you start…"
"This isn't Tom Riddle's Diary," she interrupted, frowning, eyebrows tensed in thought. "It's something else."
"How could you possibly know that?" Ron asked. "We know nothing about it."
She paused and glanced once again at the maroon mark. "I just do. It's a gut feeling."
"What were you saying about the whispers?" Tonks asked, pulling the conversation back on course.
"After Malfoy was brought back here," she continued, talking more to the Auror than anyone else. "I heard a voice at the back of my head saying the bloodline must survive. And when it burned me at dinner the other day, I heard bring her back where she belongs. This mark keeps protecting me. Fred was right, I should not have survived saving Malfoy."
"And yet you went into that damn building anyway," Seamus muttered.
"But I did survive," she continued, ignoring him with an ease that surprised her. "This mark wants me to live. And if it can protect me against a room of flames, then I'm not sure what Malfoy could do to me."
"I think we should put time into finding out what the mark is," Lupin stated, stroking his chin. "I don't think we can simply ignore it."
"It's not letting me ignore it," Hermione agreed. "It wants me to know something, I…I think it wants me to understand."
"You're talking about it like the bloody tattoo has feelings," Seamus snapped.
"Maybe it does," she responded. "It's different…it's important, it has to be."
Lupin leaned back in his chair. "The Black Library is one of the most extensive personal collections in England, with volumes dating back hundreds of years. I'm sure the answer is in there somewhere."
"I'm going to start spending all my non-mission time there," Hermione stated. "I'll figure it out. I always do."
"Hermione Granger, smart with the books and absolutely nothing else," Ron muttered.
The burning cord inside of her snapped. "You know, Ronald," she started, eyes flaring in his direction. "For someone who isn't even going to be living here next week, you care a lot about what the living situation is going to be here next week."
An uncomfortable moment of silence followed as her statement hit everyone at the table.
Lupin was the first to speak. "What's that supposed to mean?"
The vindictive and petty side of Hermione seemed to stamp out the rational. She turned to Harry and smirked. "Want to tell everyone about your choice to leave?"
Lupin's eyes shot to the boys. "You're leaving?"
Harry stuttered his response. "We…we were going to talk about it at dinner tomorrow, when everyone was here."
"Sucks when things don't work out the way you want, huh Harry?" Hermione muttered.
Lupin was gaping. "What could possibly drive you to leave?"
Harry's eyes were downcast. "Dumbledore left us a task…"
"The task that no one has seemed to mention in years?" Lupin asked. He looked around. "The task that he left you, Ron and Hermione?"
"Not me," she piped in. "I was exiled from the group."
"By who?" Lupin asked, flabbergast.
She turned her eyes back to the boys. "By my prison guards."
She stood up and walked over to face Ron and Harry directly.
"It seems you got what you wanted," she said, trying to stop her body from shaking. "I get locked up with the books while the dangerous duo goes on adventures."
Harry sighed. "Hermione, you know that is not why…"
"The only thing that makes me feel better," she interrupted, speaking over the ones who always spoke over her. "Is that you get to live with the knowledge that you are just giving me an opportunity to spend all my time with Draco Malfoy."
Ron's eyes narrowed. "Don't you fucking dare…"
"Too dangerous for me here, too dangerous for me out there," Hermione said, shrugging and shaking. "You can't have it both ways, boys."
With that, she turned on her heel and left the room, taking the stairs two at a time. Once she reached the third floor, she had nowhere else to go. She headed into one of the spare bathrooms, slamming the door behind her.
"Calm down, Hermione," she muttered to herself, grasping the sink. Energy was pulsing through her body, her blood an electrical current down her sinews and veins. Her hands gripped the edge of the basin like a raft at sea. She glanced down.
Red light was emanating from her fingertips. "What in hell…" she whispered, her body overcome with tremors.
Suddenly, there was a pounding at the door.
"Hermione, open the bloody door!" a voice called.
"It's fucking unlocked, Seamus," she shouted back, focused on her hands.
The Irishman stormed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He turned to face her, anger dissipating instantaneously at her hunched and shaking pose.
"Are you alright?"
A severe tremor wracked her body. "There's too much energy."
"Your fingers are red," he whispered.
"I know, Seamus, I know okay?" she snarled, turning her back on him and grasping the windowsill, trying to quell the spasming of her muscles as sweat poured down her face.
"You need to calm down," he said, shrinking the distance and placing his hands on her shoulders. The human contact sent a shockwave through her. She saw white.
"No," she muttered, shaking her head, forcing her vision back into focus. "What I need is to get the energy out, it's burning me, I'm on fire, Seamus…"
She could feel his breath on her neck, the intimacy of their closeness shrouded in dark complexity. "Just breathe, you can get through this."
"I'm so angry with you," she snarled, the effort at anger draining her rapidly decaying power source.
"I know, and we'll talk about it after you're okay," he whispered. His hands were running up and down her arms.
"No…no we won't," she replied, turning on him, pushing his hands away. Magic was rippling off her skin. "How are you calm right now? You've been fighting me for days!"
Seamus nodded, nervously running his hand through his hair. "I…I just want you safe."
"But you're angry," she shot back, the force behind her words increasing as she was hit with another tremor.
"Of course I'm angry," he stated. "But I don't hate you."
Sparks flew out of her fingertips. "Why are you choosing this moment to be nice? You've been on my case for over a week."
"You're having a rough night, I thought with Ron and Harry leaving…"
"Don't fucking talk to me about that," she snarled, groaning at the reminder. "God, Seamus, why would you bring that up right now?"
"I thought you might need to talk about it."
"If you honestly think," Hermione started, feeling tears at the corners of her eyes and fire at her fingertips. "That I need to talk about that at this exact moment, then I don't think you know what I need at all, Seamus."
"Then tell me what you need, Hermione!" he shouted, desperation saturating his words.
"That's the thing," she said, shaking more and more with each moment. "We've been together for a year and a half…"
"Is that what we are? Together?"
"You sure as hell have been acting like it recently," she shot back. "My protector boyfriend, jumping to my rescue at all moments."
"I care about you, you know that."
"And I care about you," she replied. "But this…this thing…whatever we're doing…recently, it's changed. I'm not sure…"
"Not sure about what?" he asked, fear evident in his voice.
She took a deep breath and tried to calm her shaking figure. "I'm not sure if you're what I need."
Her answer sent him staggering back. "You can't…you can't be serious right now."
A shot of energy went through her head, causing her to cry out in pain.
"Hermione?" Seamus demanded, stepping forward. "Goddamn it, just tell me what you need!"
She panted, forcing herself to stand up straight. "I need to get the energy out."
He reached up to cup her face. "How?"
Another pulse went through her. "Fuck this," she muttered, before latching her lips onto Seamus's and pushing him against the door.
"Hermione?" he panted, as she moved her lips downwards and started unbuttoning his shirt.
"This," she whispered, feeling the sparks shoot out from her fingertips. Seamus barely reacted as she scorched his skin. "This is what I need right now."
He pulled her face up to meet his. "Happy to oblige," he muttered.
A while later, the two lay panting on the bathroom floor, her head in his lap and her fingers fingers clasped around his thigh. The energy was gone, her blood wasn't pounding, but her head hurt more than it had in a very long time.
"Hermione?" Seamus asked, his fingers running over the burn marks she had left on his chest.
"Yes?"
"What did you mean earlier, when you said you weren't sure about…this?"
With the moment passed, and the energy expelled, she found she had no response. Pulling herself to her feet, she slowly found her various items of clothing, throwing them back on with a calmness as Seamus appraised her with burning eyes.
"I don't know, Seamus," she said, before stepping over him and out of the room. "I just don't know anymore."
In the next room over, Draco Malfoy rolled over in his bed, wincing at the pain the movement caused.
The walls at Headquarters were very thin indeed.
Review :)
