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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
The sun streaming through the open window woke her up. Blinking her way back into consciousness, she realized her head was lying on top of a book. Surrounded by stacks and volumes, her location was obvious.
Stretching her neck, Hermione sat up. Had she really fallen asleep? Surely she hadn't been working that late…
Yet she had. The sunrise painting the sky was evidence enough. After her interaction with Seamus the day before, she had immediately gone to the library, skipping dinner to research the mark.
After hours of nothing, she must've passed out. The book she had slept on was called Original Symbols of the Wizarding Age.
It had been a good pillow, if nothing else.
She sighed and leaned back in the chair, pushing her hair out of her face, the tangled curls impossible to control. As she raised her left hand to brush away a stray tendril, she caught sight of the willow tree once again, burned into her skin.
It had to be here somewhere, she thought to herself, frowning. Something this powerful had to have been recorded once, by someone. How could all written records miss this?
Unless, it predated written language.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the door to the library swinging open. Who else at Headquarters would be searching through books this early in the day?
Glancing up, she saw Fred. The man looked exhausted; huge bags under his eyes complimented his disheveled hair. While Hermione looked as if she had slept on a book in the library, Fred looked as if he hadn't slept at all.
She gave him an incredulous look. "You alright, Fred?"
He nodded, yawning into his arm, and taking a few steps into the room. He practically fell into a chair across from her. "Just an overnight transportation mission."
"Transportation mission?" Hermione asked, unable to hide the surprise in her voice. "I haven't heard of a transportation mission since last summer. In fact, when was the last time someone had a non-combative mission anyway?"
"I don't know," Fred shrugged. "Feels like a million years. Missions have been slowing down the past few weeks. Less attacks, less disappearances. Seems… off."
"I had noticed that," Hermione replied thoughtfully. "Bit of a relief after the hell we were in before."
He shook his head vociferously. "This is far worse. It's a façade of peace. It's not real. We are in a war."
"Then why do you think things are slowing down?" she asked, closing the book in front of her and resting her elbows on it.
"I have no idea. But I'm pretty fucking worried about it."
"I have too many things to be worried about," Hermione muttered, closing her eyes for a moment. "I don't have space in my brain to worry about the missions slowing down."
"Too busy with your protector boyfriends," Fred piped up.
Her eyes flew open. "Who told you about that?"
"Tonks," he answered. "In a rant. She's pretty angry at them."
"It's juvenile." Hermione started tracing the mark on her arm absentmindedly. "We're all Order members. We are all trained and qualified. They're all treating me like a breakable item."
"You are breakable," Fred pointed out.
"We're all breakable," she snapped in response. Fred's eyebrows flew up, and she winced. Taking a deep breath to soften her tone, she continued. "We're human and mortal. That's a part of life. But we're in a war, and risks have to be taken."
"The worst thing is," Fred continued, shaking his head slightly.. "Talking to Draco Malfoy isn't that much of a risk."
"Thank you," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "I was referring more to Ron and Harry leaving without me, but the Malfoy thing is ridiculous."
"Oh yeah," Fred said, glancing at her, his expression concerned. "Tonks said they were heading out today."
"The two best friends, saving the world all on their own," she murmured. She raised her eyes to meet Fred's, who was regarding her with worry. She sighed.
"It's not that I think leaving for the task is a bad idea. I don't. In fact, I was the one pushing for them to do something. I just think that Harry's living in fifth year. He has to do everything himself. He won't let anyone in, except of course, Ron. He's living a teenage fantasy of being able to solve everything with his best friend."
"Everyone knows you're the brain of the group," Fred added. "They won't be able to get very far without you there."
Hermione tried to ignore the egotistical swell of pride in her chest.
"It's always been me, you know?" she answered, attempting to put her frustrations into words. "I mean, it was always me figuring things out and letting them have the glory. I figured out what the monster was in the Chamber of Secrets. I figured out that Lupin was a werewolf. I trained Harry for the third task. I'm just so incredibly tired of doing the work and not getting any respect or credit. Not that I need them to validate my abilities, but it's frustrating to work and work and get pushed aside."
She took a deep breath, wincing slightly at her prideful tone. "Sorry, I know this doesn't really matter right now."
Fred shook his head. "It's probably not the most important thing in the middle of a war, but it's your emotions. Your emotions have validity. You have validity."
She offered him a small smile. "Thanks, Fred."
He stood up and walked around the table to offer her a hug. He leaned down and rested his head on her shoulder.
"Hermione Granger, these are tough times, and they are not bringing out the best in any of those boys. They care about you, but they are not acting with any form of respect."
"They have reasons," she sighed. "But the well of my forgiveness is running dry."
She could feel Fred's cheek rest against her own. "They'll figure out how moronic they're acting when you inevitably save all of their asses."
She chuckled bleakly. "Inevitably?"
"Hermione Granger, there are only a few things that are certain in this crazy world. Harry's hair is going to look stupid, Ron is going to act stupid, and you are going to figure it all out with a stupid amount of time left. Those are the cornerstones of my life philosophy. Don't ruin it."
She took deep calming breaths as she ascended the stairs. Morganna, she didn't want to do this at all.
But if she didn't, the regret would eat her alive.
She reached the room and knocked twice. A few moments later, Harry appeared in the doorway.
"Hey," she breathed, looking over his shoulder to see Ron paused half-way through packing a rucksack. She turned her eyes back to Harry, his green eyes guarded. "Can I come in?"
After a second of contemplation, he nodded at her. She stepped through the door, closing it quietly behind her. Then she turned to face her two best friends; the people who had always been by her side.
At least, until now.
"I wish that this wasn't happening the way it is," she admitted, her eyes downcast, her chest tight. "I wish I was packing with you guys. I'm not here to argue about it anymore, so don't get angry."
A tense silence filled the room. Hermione tapped her foot a few times against the wooden floor, expelling the energy that was building in her core.
"But, I hope you remember that we aren't at Hogwarts anymore. This isn't a fun adventure or new task to discover. This is life or death. I know you two don't want me to go because you care about my safety. Well, I care about you two just as much. Please, promise me that you'll think things through and not take any unnecessary risks."
She forced her eyes up to appraise the boys. Both of their expressions were unreadable.
She had always been able to read them before.
After a moment, Ron ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "Hermione, we're not stupid..."
"We promise," Harry interrupted, taking a step forward and shooting Ron a look to silence him. The latter's mouth slammed shut as he acquiesced.
No one wanted this moment to be worse than it had to be.
"Good," Hermione whispered. Her eyes met Harry's. "You two are the only ones with the power to stop this war. Take care of yourselves. We're all depending on you now."
Harry strode forward without warning and wrapped his arms around her. The pair of arms were so familiar, so comfortable to her. Yet she felt frozen in their embrace.
After a moment's hesitation, she tentatively lifted her own and wrapped them around his frame, squeezing tight. She held him as if this was their last meeting.
For all she knew, it might've been.
"I'm sorry about how we've been acting," Harry murmured into her ears, the shame trickling out with each syllable. "We just…"
"I don't want to hear it," she whispered fiercely, holding on tighter. "Just go do your task, and come back. That's what needs to happen now."
Harry let her go. She looked over his shoulder to meet Ron's eyes. The two friends stared at each other, engaging in a battle of pride.
Neither of them were quite flexible in this department.
"I'm not going to blink first," she stated fiercely, allowing herself this one victory.
And Ron seemed to understand.
A smile appeared at the corner of his lips, the blue in his eyes brighter than normal, a shine appearing in them that tugged at her heartstrings.
"Alright then." He walked forward and gave her a hug.
Familiar. Comfortable. Soon to be absent.
"Take care of yourselves," she whispered into his neck and she held him close.
"Right back at you, Willow Tree," Ron said, giving a watery chuckle. "Figure that shit out."
She couldn't help but laugh. "You know me. Figuring shit out is my specialty."
They stepped back. For a few moments, the three friends observed each other. A decade's worth of adventure and love seemed to go unsaid.
"Something of Ravenclaw's, the cup, the snake," Hermione said, wrapping her arms around her body, hoping to prevent any shaking. "Good luck. I hope to see you on the other side of this darkness."
Unexpectedly, Harry smiled at her comment. "Oh, 'Mione, I won't be seeing you on the other side."
"Why not?"
"Because," he said, eyes downcast, as if looking her dead on would shatter him. "There is no light at the end of the tunnel. There is light in the tunnel, at least there is when we're together. There's light in you, and no war can destroy that."
Curled up in front of the fireplace in the kitchen, she drank her tea slowly. It was that night. Harry and Ron had left hours ago after saying goodbye to the other members of the Order. Then, they disappeared into the void to end a war.
A war that seemed to be dying on its own.
Hermione glanced at the fire, her brain pondering. Fred was right about the missions. They had been slowing down for weeks. The other side was stopping attacks. There were less murders, less disappearances.
Something was off. The world she had been stuck in for years had shifted, and shifted drastically. The end of stasis, an endless repetition of two steps forward, three steps back.
A transportation mission? A month ago, no one could be spared for something so menial with catastrophes all around.
She didn't trust it, not for a second. If they were slowing down, it just meant they were planning something, or waiting for something.
Something had changed to put them in this period of calm.
The calm before the storm.
She was brought out of her reverie by sounds of movement behind her. She turned her head around the side of the chair only to be surprised.
"Malfoy?"
Sure enough, the blonde was standing in the middle of the kitchen, dressed in a dark t-shirt and pajama pants. Looking much better than the last time they had interacted, his burns were nearly all gone, and any other evidence of the fire was disappearing as well. Brushing his hair out of his face, he nodded in her direction. "Princess."
She gaped. "What are you doing down here?"
He shrugged. "Just came for a casual stroll." He walked over to where she was sitting and gestured to the empty armchair. "This seat taken?"
"I guess not," she replied, unsure of what else to say.
He smirked and slid into the seat.
"How'd you get out?" Hermione asked, sipping her tea, forcing her eyes forward.
"Get out?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't have to escape. Your fearless leader took off the handcuffs, deemed me healthy enough to walk around. He doesn't think I'm going to do anything after he so graciously offered me asylum."
"Are you going to do anything?"
He shot her a look. "What could I possibly do?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. Steal secrets?"
"Steal secrets for who?" he replied sharply. "In case you forgot, bookworm, I no longer have a side."
"Maybe not officially, but I'm sure you do mentally."
He tilted his head. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She stared at the flames, trying to ignore the flush appearing on her face. "They marked you up for not murdering that girl. Branded you as a deserter. But it's not like you actively left. You got kicked out. Just because you are no longer part of the organization doesn't mean you know longer agree with them, or hold the same ideology."
There was a moment of silence. "Are you asking me whether or not I'm still a Death Eater at heart?"
Another beat. "I suppose I am."
"Merlin, bookworm," he breathed, chuckling slightly, the malice she expected absent in his voice. "You don't give a guy a break, do you? I almost died last week, can't you wait before hitting me with the questions about my beliefs and philosophies?"
She gave him a sideways glance. "That's not an answer."
He paused, mouth half open. "I don't support anyone who orders a father to torture his son."
She didn't have a response to that.
The firelight flickered through the room, casting dancing shadows across the walls. Her eyes traced the outline of Malfoy's face, distorted against the wood paneling.
"Heard your boys leave today," the Slytherin said, breaking the silence. "Not going to be around for a while, are they?"
"Please," she scoffed. "I doubt you care about what Harry and Ron do."
"No, I really don't," he answered bluntly. "But I am curious."
"I'm not telling you what they're doing," she muttered, clutching her cup closer to her body.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Good, because I don't give a damn."
She sat up straighter. "That's rich, Malfoy. We're in a war. Regardless of where your allegiance lies, I'm sure you care what each side is up to."
"Of course," he answered. "But, frankly, Potter and Weaselbee could explode all of London and it wouldn't interest me. They are uninteresting."
"Interest is a bit of a luxury in a war."
"Everything's a luxury in war," he answered. "Even this conversation. Human contact is growing scarce, have you noticed, bookworm? Doubt you would be talking to me otherwise."
She shook off his statement, ignoring the odd sensation their talk was causing in her chest. "What do you care about then, if not what they're doing?"
Malfoy leaned towards her before answering. It was such a microscopic difference that she shouldn't have noticed.
And yet, she did.
"I care, Miss Granger, that they didn't bring you along."
She couldn't help the short laugh that burst from her mouth. "Oh that's rich, Malfoy. You care about my involvement and exclusion? I'm honoured."
"I would be honoured as well," he answered, the firelight dancing in his eyes. "But no. I care because it's interesting. I find it interesting that after almost a decade of friendship, Scarhead prances into the big, bad world without the only competent member of his band."
Strangely, she felt complimented by his statement. "They think it's too dangerous."
"Life is too dangerous," he responded, rolling his eyes. "That's such a classic Potter move. He has to be the knight in shining armor for the females in his life. I would be offended if it were me."
"I am offended," she responded, the banter putting a small smile on her face. "But, there are more important things to care about right now. I have my own things to work on here."
"Like that mark on your arm?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
His question shifted the mood of the room. The firelit shadows on the wall turned menacing from the puppet figures they were before.
Her eyes moved to meet his very slowly, her chest rising and following at a dangerously fast speed.
"What are you talking about?" she said, forcing her voice to remain steady.
He pointed at the willow. "The tree. Besides the fact that you've been cradling it this entire conversation, the walls are really fucking thin in the goddamn building. It's all anyone's been talking about. Hermione Granger and the mysterious tattoo. Sounds like a book title."
"It is a mystery," she responded, turning her forearm inward so that the mark was out of sight. "It showed up a few weeks ago, and has done nothing but offer me confusion and occasional blackout pain."
"And power," Malfoy said softly, his eyes turning back to the fire.
"Pardon?" she asked, her heart skipping a beat.
"Power," he repeated, the shadows extenuating his fierce cheekbones. Like a knife had cut across his cheek. "I had the…uh…unfortunate pleasure of overhearing an interaction between you and the Irish the other day. Thin walls, you know."
She felt her cheeks heat up. "You heard that?"
He smirked at her discomfort. "I did, indeed. And besides the interesting concept of you shagging Finnigan, I did understand that that mark was offering you energy. Energy you had to spend somehow."
"I'm sorry you overheard," she muttered, trying to keep her mind in the present, away from moving limbs and lips.
"You're a powerful witch, bookworm," Malfoy said softly. "I wonder how much more a little mark can give you."
"You'd be surprised," she answered, unsure as to why she was being so open. "I don't even know my limits anymore."
"You can't know your limits without testing them," he replied before giving her a smirk. "Finnigan not pushing you enough?"
"Don't be vulgar, Malfoy," she muttered, glancing down, ignoring the sinking reality of his statement.
"And yet," he smiled. "No answer."
She sighed, Malfoy's expression somehow allowing her to answer honestly. "Seamus is great, he really is. But, he's not…he's just…well…"
Malfoy eyed her with something she didn't quite recognize. Curiosity with a mix of… longing. Longing for what?
"He's not what you need."
She paused as Malfoy's words hit her sharply. She felt the truth of them in her blood, as painful as the realization was.
"No. He's not what I need."
Malfoy leaned back in his chair and glanced at the fire. "What do you need then, Princess?"
Hermione felt as though she had fallen down a rabbit hole. Disoriented, unsure of her surroundings, she felt dazed and confused.
"I…I don't know."
"I do," he replied, his grey eyes flashing over to meet her green eyes. Her heart skipped another beat.
"Do tell, Malfoy. I'd love to hear this."
He paused for a moment before answering. "You need more. You need something more."
"More than what?" she asked, her heart beginning to stutter irregularly. Tachycardic chaos.
He smirked. "More than ordinary. More than simple. More than regular, or natural. You need something difficult, something to work for, and something worth it. You need someone who's worth it."
She felt as if the world was spinning around her. She was out of orbit.
Her mark was tingling slightly. "How could you possibly know what I need?"
He shrugged. "Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm full of shit. But something tells me that what I just said is resonating inside that pretty little head of yours."
She had no response.
He looked at her for a few more moments. "I've decided something, bookworm."
"And what is that?"
He turned his gaze back to the fireplace.
"I like your green eyes."
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