Hello all! I hope the holiday season is treating you well :) I wrote this entire chapter on a transatlantic plane ride today, so in that regard, going home for the Holidays is treating me great.
Thank you for all the lovely reviews, I really appreciate it.
A LOT goes down this chapter. It has been building for a while, and some of you have asked in reviews, "why hasn't x said this, or y done this yet". This chapter answers that question, as we fall forward into the next part of TSP. Trust me, this story is FAR from over. But also trust me, not all has been revealed yet ;)
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
"You can't be fucking serious, Hermione."
Making sure to manage her breathing, she ignored the viciousness in her ex-lover's voice. Staring forward, Hermione looked Lupin in the eye and tried to read the expressions flitting across his face.
More than anything, he looked pensive.
"I'm not sure if that's the best idea," he admitted after several moments of pronounced silence.
"And why would that be, Remus?" she asked, her voice clipped, each syllable punctuating the room like a knife.
"Well," her old teacher said, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table, drumming against the wooden surface with his fingers. "Firstly, we do not know where he is."
"As if that's stopped us from trying to find the captured before," she retorted. Instead of feeling herself get angry at pushback, she felt calm and in control. Her pulse felt steady, rushing through her now golden mark.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
"Second," Remus continued, not acknowledging her counterpoint. "He's not on our side. He's, well…a defected Death Eater. I'm not sure we should waste resources or risk lives on him."
"That's not what you said about the Zabini mission," she reminded him, thinking back to their rescue of Blaise a month prior.
"I wasn't a Death Eater, 'Mione," Blaise chimed in. Her eyes shifted to him briefly. He seemed paler than he had prior. There was something dancing across his face, a fleeting emotion that she couldn't grasp before it disappeared behind a facade.
"No," she stated, narrowing her eyes at him, frowning. "You were neutral and we all agreed that was reason enough to save you."
"I mean," Fred interjected, wincing slightly when Hermione's eyes shifted to him. "Malfoy isn't neutral either."
She raised an eyebrow. "No, he's under our protection, remember? He was promised asylum here, and was captured fighting for our side, if you do not recall. That should afford him a standing higher than mere neutrality, correct?"
"I understand what you're saying, Hermione," Remus conceded slightly. "But after such a disaster of a mission, should we really all run back into the wolves' den? They knew we were going to the Summer House and we have no idea how. Wouldn't you expect them to know that we're also going to try and rescue Mr. Malfoy?"
"We face this risk every mission."
"Hermione," Remus said, softly, meeting her eye again. "We don't even know if he's still alive."
"He is," she said resolutely. "I'm certain that I would know if he wasn't."
"How?" Remus asked, raising an eyebrow. "You aren't a seer, Hermione, and I know how much you detest the profession anyway."
She scoffed. "No, I'm not relying as something as flimsy and inaccurate as Divination."
"Then what are you relying on?"
She raised her left arm, showing off her golden mark to the group.
"I'm relying on this."
The Order Members at the table all stared at her, some incredulous, some exasperated, and one Irishman seemingly furious, barely believing that they were even giving this conversation the time of day.
"Hermione," Kingsley spoke, his deep voice filling the room. "How could your mark be informing you of the young Mr. Malfoy's state of being?"
"It knew when he was taken," she said, thinking back to that horrible moment and the overwhelming emptiness that followed. "It was a physical reaction. The mark turned grey and I felt…hollow. It was as if my life had been sucked out of my veins, leaving me breathing but not alive."
"It's no longer grey," Fred aptly pointed out, before receiving the Death Glare of the Century from Seamus. "What?" he said defensively. "If I don't point out the obvious, who will?"
Hermione cracked a small smile. "You're right, Fred. The second I said I was going to go rescue him, it turned to gold. It's turned so many colours over the past month, but never gold. It means something, I know it does. And if Draco was dead, I know it wouldn't be giving me the feeling of hope that it is right now."
A decadent moment of silence followed her statement.
"Hermione," Remus said, slowly, his words testing the water, as if he was dipping a toe into the ocean, afraid that the next step would take him over a drop off. "What you're saying, if I understand you correctly… Mr. Malfoy's state is reflected in your mark, that's serious. That means you two are…connected."
Hermione nodded. For some reason, embarrassment or a wish for privacy was the furthest thing from her mind.
"So, forgive me Hermione, but I have to ask…how are you two connected?" Remus asked tentatively, staring only at her.
Hermione did not know how to answer. She was not about to admit what had transpired between them the night prior. But, her body's physical connection to Draco… no … her body's magical connection to Draco was now centre stage, fueling her nerve to utter the next words.
"It's because of the magic transfer."
To say one could hear a pin drop in the room would be an understatement. The kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place filled with such a deafening silence that Hermione felt as if she could hear the blood pumping in the veins of those around the table.
"The what?" eventually hissed Seamus, his face red, and the vein at the base of his neck showing.
In what felt like a different life, she had kissed him there, where his neck met his chest.
"I think it's because of the magic transfer," she said, confidence growing, eyes turning from her old lover, thinking forward to her current. She felt shimmers over her skin. "A few weeks ago, when my mark sent me over the edge and you were all gone on mission, Draco and I performed a magic transfer."
Remus looked gob smacked. "You mean when it was you, him, and Fred?"
Hermione nodded, and Fred looked down at the ground, for once saying nothing at all.
Neville chimed in, a frown overtaking his kind features, as the others remained shellshocked. "Blimey, Hermione, you've got to be kidding."
She shook her head. "I was overloaded with magic. And he was there," she whispered, recalling the moment that her relationship with Draco had changed. Perhaps that wasn't necessarily true; their relationship had changed when he arrived, when they spoke, when they had tea as the stars allowed. But it was the moment her relationship with Draco had fallen over a cliff into an abyss that she felt no desire to climb out of.
"I had so much power inside me and it felt like it was burning and trying to reach the surface. He, Draco I mean, he took some of the power from me until I could breathe again. And now...well, now I can sense when he enters the room, when he leaves, and when he was taken today. So, trust me, I'm bloody well certain that I'd know if he died."
After a few more beats of silence, Remus spoke.
"Holy fuck, Hermione." He said, staring forward. Hermione let out a small gasp.
She hardly ever heard Remus swear.
The unnamed leader of the Order looked around the table. She couldn't read his expression.
"Who knew about this?"
After a moment, Fred raised his hand. Then, a second hand went up.
Blaise.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. She had known that Blaise knew that there was something transpiring between her and his former best friend, but she hadn't realized Draco divulged this to him.
They were closer than they appeared at first sight.
Remus stared at the two men with hands raised, mouth sputtering for a moment. "And no one felt the need to let me know that our asylum seeker possessed the magic of the most powerful Order Member?"
"He didn't possess it," Fred chimed in. Under Lupin's glare, he shrugged. "Look, I was there and you all weren't. Malfoy didn't charge into the room, hold her at wandpoint and steal magic from her piece by piece."
Hermione blushed slightly, remembering how the moment had transpired.
"Hermione was overloading," he continued. "Malfoy offered himself to Hermione as a way to unload herself. He basically did the magical equivalent of ripping off his shirt and telling her to take him."
"That's disgusting," Neville muttered.
Fred shrugged. "Imagine how it felt to be in the room. Anyway, he doesn't possess her magic. He shares it. She gave it to him willingly and he took it on."
"Semantics," Lupin muttered. "You still should've told me."
"Nah," Fred said, eyes dancing to Hermione for a moment. "I knew this would send everyone into a totally rational tailspin, and frankly, I like my war resistance group drama-free, please and thank you."
Remus didn't even bother acknowledging the twin's comment with an eye-roll.
"And you, Blaise?" he turned to the former Slytherin. "Did you not think this would be something we should know? How did you even find out?"
Blaise paused a moment before responding. Hermione watched him think over his answer carefully.
"Draco told me," he said, lips pursed. "I noticed him acting weird. Bloody hell, I basically grew up with the guy, I know when he's not telling me something. I called him out on it, he told me what happened."
"And you didn't tell us because…"
"Because I didn't want any more spotlights on Hermione or Draco, for that matter," Blaise responded. "Whatever is going on with our magical willow princess has made her powerful enough to repel the Killing Curse without any personal damage. Now Draco has that power in his veins. The less people who knew, the better. Keeps everyone safe."
"We're in a war, Blaise, no one's safe," muttered Neville.
"I know," he responded. "But frankly, I didn't want to put a target on my childhood best friend's back, or yours, princess." His eyes flicked towards hers. There was something deeper in them, something he wanted her to read. Their eyes connected, and she felt him pulling at her, desperately, begging her to understand.
He was sending her a message.
Remus was shaking his head slowly. "I cannot believe this."
Hermione turned away from Blaise. "You all didn't need to know. It was private anyway; it only matters now because you need to believe me that I know Draco isn't dead."
Remus appraised her slowly.
"You know magic transfers are permanent, right Hermione?"
She nodded. "I know what I did."
"Why did you do it?" Blaise asked, his eyes flicking to her once more.
It was the question that had been rattling inside her brain since it had first happened. "Because I trusted Draco in that moment, and I needed to get the magic out."
Seamus coughed, muttering something under his breath. Hermione ignored him.
She turned back to Remus. "You know what's at stake for me here. And if you think about what my mark has been able to do, imagine what Draco can do for them. You may not like it, you may not trust him, you may not want to put us at risk, but this mark means something. It's old, it's powerful, and the Death Eaters know what it is. And now, they have a portion of it under their control."
Remus blinked at her for few moments of silence, feeling as if they were an eternity.
"Go to bed, Hermione," he eventually said.
"Remus, I am not going to leave him…"
"Go to bed, Hermione," he repeated, leaning forward in his chair. "So that you'll have energy in the morning to make a plan."
Her heart was hammering, centering on her mark.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Hermione," came a whisper from the second-floor landing.
Hermione turned slightly. It was much later in the day. After the explosive revelations of the post-mission meeting, the group has dissipated quickly. Seamus had stormed out of the room first, barricading himself in his room, refusing to let anyone speak to him, not that she had felt any desire to. Hermione had left soon after, but not before seeing some of the higher level members of the Order, Tonks, Kingsley, Molly, Lupin, Bill, huddle up at the end of the table, discussing the new developments with an intensity she did not quite recognize.
Unable to bear the scrutiny after her admissions, she had retreated to her room. Ginny was still occupied with the rescued prisoners, so the empty space gave her a few hours to decompress, to think, and to try desperately to understand. Her courage during the meeting had stemmed from her glowing mark and a desire to save Draco. Now, she felt drained again, with her mind on a pair of missing grey eyes. She had snuck back down to the kitchen for a cup of tea, hoping it would help her shaking nerves. It was on her way back up to her room that she heard a voice call out to her on the landing.
She turned to meet Blaise's eyes. "Yes?" she asked, heart thumping, holding her tea a little closer to her chest.
He motioned with his head for her to follow him into his room. As if drawn forward against her rationality, she walked into the small bedroom.
Blaise sat on his bed, crossing his arms, and staring up at her. She watched him for a moment before sitting in a chair across the room. They studied each other.
Eventually, she spoke.
"You know something, don't you?"
It wasn't a question in any world of understanding. It was a statement. It was a realization that had begun to dawn on her earlier in the day, as Blaise's odd looks, speaking eyes, and gestures all pieced together a puzzle of information that led to this moment.
He didn't try to deny it. He just kept looking at her.
"What is it?" she asked, the question bursting from her lips desperately. "Merlin, Blaise, with everything going on, why didn't you just tell us all earlier?"
"Because this is not for everyone's ears," he replied, leaning forward, staring at her intently. "Just yours, Princess."
She shivered under his gaze. "Why do you...and Draco keep calling me that?"
He didn't reply. Instead he leaned back against the wall, crossed his arms and appraised her. He sighed, air leaving his chest gently, before sucking it back in and propelling the following words at her:
"I know something about your mark."
Whatever she had been expecting him to say, it wasn't that. She gaped. "You...you know something this?"
He nodded.
"Have you..." she started before the words were lost in her throat. Pulling herself together, she persisted. "Have you always known something? Since the moment you first came?"
Blaise flinched under her increasingly hard tone. But nonetheless, he nodded.
Shock. The emotion that filled her was not anger, as maybe it should have been, or confusion, as would have been acceptable. Pure, unadulterated shock.
After a few seconds, she found her voice.
"Why didn't you come to me sooner?" she asked, finding her words quivering as they moved through the air towards her old schoolmate. "I know we aren't close…"
"I actually thought that we've become fairly friendly," Blaise interrupted, his face taken over by a blank smile.
She cocked her head. "That makes it even more shocking. You've been here since the beginning of this mystery, Blaise. Your rescue mission was the first time the mark acted up. You've seen firsthand how it affected me, how it changed my standing in the Order, how everyone views it as an unknown weapon, how it…" she took a deep breath. "You know how it changed my relationship with Draco."
Blaise sighed, and ran a hand through his dark hair. "I didn't say anything to you for the same reason that I didn't say anything to Lupin about the magic transfer. I didn't want to put a target on your back."
"So, you knew it would put a target on my back?"
"Of course, I knew," he scoffed. "Look, Hermione, you did not grow up in this world. It's not a knock on you, it's just a fact. I know that you've seen war, death, tragedy and everything in between but this…this is old magic. Your mark," he breathed, glancing down at her forearm. "This is not magic that just anyone has access to. This mark sets you apart, it sets you above the crowd. In a war, either side would kill and evidently, has tried to kill to get access to it. The less people who knew the better and I'm sorry, but that included you."
"Why are you coming to me now?" she said, musing over the man in front of her. She should have felt furious. Blaise had seen her suffer, cry, and even kill over this mark. He had stood there in every discussion on the matter, saying nothing. Quiet, distant, standing in the background.
Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a secondary character with knowledge of every key plot point.
Blaise sighed. "Because it doesn't matter anymore. The Death Eaters would never have made such a risky play if they didn't know what the possible prize was. They were willing to let some of the strongest Auror members go, let a defected Death Eater live, just to get you in a room. They know, they must. It's a different war now, Hermione."
"A different war?" she raised an eyebrow. "Seems a little dramatic."
Blaise shook his head. "It's not. We're on a different playing field now. The goals have changed. Which means that you need to know what weapons you have."
She leaned forward, heart thumping, lips pursed. "Then tell me. What is it? What does it make me?"
Blaise sighed, staring forward at her, eyes meeting with an intensity so intimate that her breath caught.
"It's not a what, Hermione. It doesn't make you something. It makes you someone."
As if pulled out of an infinite reverie, her lips formed a question as all her senses overwhelmed her.
"Who does it make me?"
Knowing everything was about to change, if it hadn't already, Blaise answered her question.
"What do you know about Morganna Le Fay?"
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