Sending love to you all

This is chapter 2 out of either 3-4 for this scene. I promise, we are not done here.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.


Everything.

The word bounced around her head, rennervating through her body, mind, and soul. She stared, aghast, at the man in front of her. Her uncle. Who she had never seen before, never known…a man who must bear a similarity to her biological father, but she couldn't recognize anything behind his eyes.

"What on earth are you going on about, Nott?" she snarled, refusing to let her voice shake. Refusing to let this be personal. This man – her uncle – would not shatter her now, as he was trying to do. His evocation of her mother had shot anger through her like fire.

"Surely you've guessed by now, Hermione," the man said, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. His voice sent shivers down her spine. Like a long-forgotten nightmare, that resurfaced periodically, but you always forgot by morning. "You cannot honestly think that with the magic running through your veins and that mark on your arm your relationship to Draco would be merely…inconsequential."

She stared forward, breathing deeply, trying to calm her racing pulse, and trying even more desperately to ignore the blonde man in the room, whose eyes she could feel on her skin.

The emotions she felt were threatening to boil over. Her realization of Draco's betrayal had hit her with a force she had not thought possible.

Was betrayal the right word? You could not betray something that had never existed in the first place…

The memory of it all was burning her. Every moment, every night, every goddamn word he had said to her since she first saved his sorry self that fateful day in Diagon Alley had been a deception. She could hardly believe it, that it all had been staged, with the express purpose of getting her here in this moment.

She was the end goal. And Merlin, had he used her like the means to one.

"I did not say that my relationship with Draco was inconsequential," she said, her voice tripping over his name. "There will be consequences. You are about to face them."

Nott let out a massive guffaw, clapping his hands together. The sound echoed throughout the large drawing room, hitting them all in turn before the silence crashed down once again.

"Merlin, Lucius," Nott chuckled, clapping his hand on the back of the other man. "A firecracker. Just like Celia."

Her mother's real name caused anger to overtake her, as her eyes went white. For a moment she was blinded. Tremors wracked through her body, and somewhere in the distance, she heard a crash followed by a scream. Her eyes popped open moments before the chandelier above her head broke away from the ceiling, seconds away from crashing onto her.

She didn't even have time to react. She felt her magic jump into action without thought, but before she was able to put up a shield, jump out of the way, anything, the chandelier stopped mid-air.

She gasped as it stayed suspended above her, giving enough time for Blaise to pull her out of the way. Looking around desperately for the source, her eyes were drawn to only one person.

As if she knew all along.

Draco stood across the room from her, wand pointed at the chandelier. He was suspending it, stopping it from having crashed down on her head after her magic exploded in anger. The look of concentration on his face shocked her.

How had he had the reaction time? Everyone in the room had a wand, everyone in the room had heard the crash, had seen the chandelier start to fall. But Draco had been the only one who had raised his wand to stop it.

It was as if he knew it was going to fall before it was.

As if he knew It was going to fall on her.

Draco's eyes didn't move from the chandelier. She watched as he flicked his wrist and the chandelier exploded into dust, which sprinkled down upon the scene's spectators. As the remains of the once magnificent fixture floated through the air, her resolve faltered, and she looked at him.

He was looking back at her, his eyes glassy, his expression filled with something she didn't recognize. His eyes were grey now, storm clouds.

She saw the danger in them. She saw the warning in them.

But she would not falter in the rain.

The men surrounding Draco looked on in shock, their expressions filled with disbelief at his action.

"Draco," his father whispered, his voice carrying through the dead silent room. "How did you know?"

"Easy," Nott exclaimed, his expression different from the rest. He looked jubilant. "He felt it in his veins that the chandelier was going to fall on Miss Le Fay, isn't that true?"

Draco, suddenly seeming to have realized the extent of his actions, nodded.

Nott turned back to Hermione. "How is that for inconsequential?"

She heard Blaise mutter at her side.

"Bloody fucking hell."

"You see, Hermione," Nott continued, his eyes dancing quickly between her and Draco. "Your relationship is different. This young man knew you were in danger before you knew yourself. How could that possibly be?"

"Intuition?" she whispered, blankly, the seriousness of the moment overcoming her.

Nott chuckled. "No, dear. That means you've chosen an Other."

"Stop using that stupid word," she burst out. "It's meaningless to me."

"But Draco, young one, is not," Nott continued. "The Le Fay women are some of the most powerful witches in the history of Magic. And they, consciously or not, take that power seriously. They aim to protect it. And in order to do so, they pick a life partner with skill enough to last at their side. To protect the line, and to, as Draco just demonstrated, protect them. To protect you."

Nott's words hit her in sequence, before scrambling up in her head and coming back together in an instant. Her mouth popped open, and her eyes, against the better judgement of her mind, flicked to Draco.

He was still looking at her, his grey eyes solemn. The warning she had seen prior was gone, the storm was over. Instead, she recognized gentle, quiet raindrops in them. A feeling spread through her, a feeling that reminded her of curling up in an armchair, with a cup of tea, during a rain shower on a Sunday morning. A quiet peace.

A distant memory pushed itself to the forefront of mind. A song that her mother used to sing to her as a child to put her to sleep.

Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket/

Never let it fade away/

Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket/

Save it for a rainy day/

For love may come and tap you on the shoulder/

Some starless night/

Just in case you feel you wanna hold her/

You'll have a pocket full of starlight

A starless night indeed.

She tore her eyes away from his, refusing the barrage of emotions from overtaking her. This was a nightmare. This could not be real.

He had betrayed her. Whatever had happened between them was a mirage, a carefully executed con. She had fallen for it. She had been manipulated. She had been used.

And yet, Nott's words struck a chord in her that she did not even know existed.

A voice shook her out of her reverie.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Of course, Seamus would be the first to vocalize the ridiculousness of the situation.

Even as she thought it, the word ridiculousness did not sit well.

"You know my words are true," Nott said again, ignoring the Irishman's outburst. "You feel Draco in your veins the way he feels you in yours. I saw Tiberius and Celia up close. I would recognize the Le Fay Other connection anywhere."

Hermione took a deep breath, trying desperately to calm her emotions. They were erratic, conflicting, threatening to pull her under.

"Even if you are speaking the truth," she said, thankful her voice had steadied. "In what world would I choose Draco Malfoy as my magical lifetime partner?"

She felt a sharp pain in her core at the words. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Draco put his hand on his chest and wince.

Nott smirked. "The choice in unconscious, dearie. Whether or not your mind is currently a fan of Draco Malfoy, your magic has chosen him. You know it in your soul. You cannot deny that."

Nott's words, his certainty, his overwhelming, pompous knowledge on the subject sent a wave of anger through her body. Whether or not he knew the Le Fay legends, whether or not he had seen Tiberius and Celia, whether or not he knew the details of her relationship with Draco, she was not to be spoken down to by this man, of all people.

Had she felt hatred like this before? She was unsure.

Her eyes narrowed. "How dare you try to tell me who I have chosen? Who my magic has chosen? I may be a Le Fay, I may have the power of Morganna in my blood, but I am also my mother's daughter. And I will not let you men tell me what my soul knows."

Out of the corner of her eye, she swore she saw Draco smile.

"Now, Hermione," Lucius interjected, a shadow of uncertainty crossing his face. "There is no need to get testy. You know as well as us that you've chosen my son."

She raised her wand and pointed it directly at him. "Even if my bloody fucking heritage tattoo has decided that Draco Malfoy is my lifetime partner, I have not. I would never choose him."

The venom in her voice had increased tenfold. He flinched as if her words physically wounded him.

And she would never have admitted it in the moment, it wounded her too.

"It does not matter," she whispered, eyes dropping to the floor of the drawing room for a moment. "It doesn't fucking matter."

She felt him snap before his words hit the air.

"Of course, it fucking matters, Hermione!" Draco burst out. Her eyes snapped to his.

The storm clouds had returned.

Without taking her wand off his father, she turned to face him fully. Behind her, she felt movement as the Order flanked her, preparing for the confrontation.

The anger in her veins was pounding. She looked at him and she saw pain. She looked at him and she saw betrayal. She looked at him and saw lies, and cowardice, and evil.

And it burnt her to the core.

She had kissed this man. She had made love to this man. She had allowed this man to hold her in his arms, to hold her magic in his veins. She had felt him in ways she had never felt anyone.

And it had been a lie.

The pain was indescribable. The disbelief was tempting. If only she could see it as an error. As a mistake.

Her heart screamed at her.

She could not. She could not see it as such. Because it wasn't.

At least not to her.

Rage overtook her as she realized what Draco had taken from her. What she had given willingly. What he had stolen. What she had wanted.

Who she had wanted.

Two conflicting storms in her heart, each threatening to take over.

Magic shimmered in the air like electricity as rationality won this round

"Why?" she spat at him. "Why does it matter, Draco? Why does anything bloody matter except for the fact that you are a cowardly lowlife? That we saved your life, offered you asylum…all for a ruse. A ruse that you are central in. You played your part masterfully."

"Hermione," he responded, torment over his face. "Yes, that's the way it started, but you've got to believe…"

The maniacal laughter that burst from her throat scared even her.

She felt deranged. Unhinged. Destroyed.

"I don't have to believe anything, Draco," she hissed. She felt sweat on her brow. "I don't have to believe you. You…you played us. We were all pawns in your game. I was a goddamn pawn to you."

"No," he said, his eyes trained on hers. "You were always the queen."

"I've never cared much for wizard chess," she spat, pushing through her hurricane of emotion. "But I do know that even if the Queen has the most power on the board, she's the one that you want to destroy first."

"Hermione," he replied, eyes downcast, his voice quiet. But she could hear him. She would be able to hear him whisper in a crowded room.

Even if she was screaming.

"Don't," she said again, her voice finally cracking. "Just don't."

"You can't just pretend that there's nothing here," he exclaimed, eyes meeting hers again.

"I'm saying it doesn't matter," she said. "You bloody Death Eaters have never understood this concept very well. You can tell me that my magic has decided, and that fate decrees, or whatever you bastards can think up of. I may have the most powerful magic in this room, but I also have free will. I will always have my choice.

"And I am choosing to see you for what you are, Draco Malfoy. A cowardly, spineless, manipulative, useless excuse of a wizard, and even less of a man."

Her words pierced his psyche like blades. She watched him stumble back, the pain in his eyes burning her.

She felt his pain as her own.

She squashed it.

She turned her attention back to Lucius. "So, what was the point then?" she muttered, trying to put Draco in a box at the back of her mind. Forcing him to stay there. "Get inside my head? Learn my secrets? What do you want?"

Lucius appraised her silently for a moment. "I would have thought that would be obvious by now, Miss Le Fay. We want you returned to your side. Your proper side."

Her mouth popped open. She gasped, shocked, disbelief evident.

There was a lot of that today.

"My what?"

"You are wizarding royalty," Lucius said. "Standing amongst peasants. We offer you a place where you belong. Standing as a queen by those who can recognize your worth. Standing at the side of your family. Past," he shot a look at Nott. Then Draco.

"And future."

The word of promise. Of hope.

Not of betrayal.

Before Hermione even had a chance to react, she heard a snarl from behind her.

"You all really are thick if you think Hermione would switch sides because of a fucking tattoo."

"Really?" Lucius said, raising an eyebrow at Blaise. "Why?"

"Because this side knows loyalty," Seamus piped in. "You lot may have some stupid pureblood fetish with Hermione, but we are loyal to her, and she to us."

"This I find doubtful," Lucius smirked. "Or do my eyes deceive me? Where is the Chosen One and his blood traitor sidekick?"

Hermione's eyes flashed. "Don't you dare mention them."

"They aren't here," Lucius continued. "And they haven't been for a while. Left you behind. Didn't they? Loyal, so you say."

Lucius lifted his wand and waved it absentmindedly.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak and found no words would come out.

"Or what about the fear that has permeated your precious Order since your 20th birthday, Miss Le Fay?" Lucius continued, his eyes narrowed, but holding a newfound confidence. She hadn't seen it before. "The fear at what you could do. Fear of uncertainty. Fear of difference."

She felt shivers go down her spine. She still couldn't speak.

"Fear of power," Lucius continued, his voice drawling. "Fear of who you are. Is it or is it not true that you were essentially quarantined in your Headquarters because your Order feared what would happen?"

"This tactic will not work," Remus's voice filled the room, speaking for the first time since arriving. "You will not trick her this way, Lucius."

"No tricks, Werewolf," the Death Eater responded. "Just facts. And the fact remains that your Order abandoned you, tried to use you as a weapon, as their tool, and locked you away like a weakling."

Lucius's words assaulted her as memories of the past few months swept through her mind. He was lying… wasn't he? But even as she thought it, images of Harry and Ron leaving, of Remus calling her a weapon, of Seamus and the fear he exuded whenever her saw her…they all flashed before her eyes.

Lucius smirked as she faltered. "Power is not to be feared. Power is to be embraced. Power is to be respected. And yours, my dear, was not by any of your so-called allies."

"He's lying," she heard Blaise whisper desperately at her side.

The words did not stick.

Lucius continued, taking a step towards her, closing the gap.

Her wand arm shook.

"And wasn't there only one person who saw you as you were, who treated you with reverence, with respect for your power?" he said, his voice lower than before. "Who did not fear you, but met you where you were? Who did not treat you as if you would combust or shatter? Who treated you like the Wizarding Princess that you are?"

She couldn't breathe. She was suffocating.

This was hell. This was purgatory.

Lucius stalked towards her as her vision blurred. When it came back into focus, she wasn't looking at the Malfoy in front of her.

No, she was looking into a different pair of grey eyes.

A pair of grey eyes that seemed to be screaming at her.

Screaming what? She couldn't read them.

A shiver went down her spine again.

These were not the eyes of a man wanting her to join his side.

"You may think," Lucius continued. He was heartbeats away. She couldn't move. "You may think that this 'Other' business is nonsense. But you see the truth in it. You know your magic, and it knows you. Who else would it have chosen for you? Why would Draco have not been the one your magic chose?"

"It recognized in him what you needed. A man who did not fear you, but who knew that you were not his equal. That you were his superior. The Le Fays are to be revered. And did he not revere you?"

And did he not revere you.

The memory of their night together overtook her for a moment. Of the way he looked at her. The way he held her in his arms like she was precious. Like she was perfect. Like she was magic incarnate.

That couldn't have been a ruse…could it have been?

She felt hypnotized. Her gaze, against her will, against her conscious want, shifted back to Draco. What overcame her when their eyes met was not something she had ever felt. It was…it was as if the room had disappeared and it was just her and this bastard man. The anger, the unadulterated hatred she had felt not ten minutes ago had dissipated, and as she tried, she could not muster it.

She did not understand what was happening. She did not understand why her mind, her logical mind for which she prided herself, was failing. It was as if she was in a cloud, as if her life were now in a haze. She was spinning wildly.

The other storm won out.

And Draco was still standing there.

She took a step forward.

"Hermione, no!" she heard someone shout out. But the voice sounded so distant. From another universe.

"She has a shield up," someone else said. She suddenly felt pressure at her side, followed by a release and a bang.

Someone had reached for her, only to be thrown back.

"See, Miss Le Fay," Lucius said, somewhere in front of her. She could barely see him. "You may try to deny it, but your magic knows otherwise. The Le Fays always stand by their Others unless the line is in direct danger. This is outside of your conscious control. This is outside of your realm of choice."

"This is what your magic wants."

Whatever Lucius had said did not break through to her psyche. She was entranced, her magic leading her forward, step by step towards the man standing at the opposite end of the room.

He looked at her, emotions flicking through his eyes so quickly that she could not recognize them. She saw the muscles in his forearm tighten, veins press against the skin. He was shifting his wand between his fingers. His mouth was moving but no words were coming out.

She finally recognized something in his eyes.

Indecision.

What could he be deciding? She thought absentmindedly, as in the back of her consciousness, she began to hear shouts, and crashes, and lights bounced around the room.

Draco's eyes shifted quickly to the scene behind her before flashing back to meet hers. His mouth opened again.

"Hermione, I…" he started, his voice dying out. Was he whispering? Was he screaming? She couldn't tell.

She was so close to him. She was so far.

Grey met green.

She finally recognized it.

Decision.

Before she could blink, Draco was rushing towards her. Whatever shield she had put up against the others was permeable to him. He crashed into her.

They crashed into each other.

The momentum with which they had collided sent her flying back. Before she could fall, Draco had his arm around her waist, pulling her against his body.

The impact broke the spell. The haze lifted.

She stared up at Draco in shock, in anger, in confusion, as reality doused her like cold water. He shook his head before lifting her to her feet.

She felt the Order congregate around her. But her eyes were still on Draco.

He took a deep breath. The centuries passed.

And he turned his back on her. On the Order. Towards his side. Towards Nott. Towards his father.

She heard him mutter under his breath.

"You'll be the death of me."

And he raised his wand.

Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket/

Save it for a rainy day.


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