A/N Happy Friday. Your reviews filled me with joy as they always do. We are almost done with these little snippets. They do grow up so fast (sniffle). I've dropped a pretty big tell in this chapter. Let me know what you think. Have a wonderful weekend. -Lark
Objects of Beauty Chapter 15
Winter 1951
"His mother just abandoned him? Just like that?" Harry was angry. "She should have stayed for him." The three of them were standing at the edge of the pensieve. Dumbledore had just taken them through the rather tragic beginnings of Tom Riddle.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Yes, it appears that Tom grew up with no knowledge of love."
"Does it mean that he has no capacity for love then?" Hermione asked. She remembered his cold eyes as he had tortured her and shivered.
Dumbledore steepled his fingers and studied Fawkes who was grooming himself opposite them. The three of them had been reviewing memories in the pensieve. "From his past actions one would suspect not" he turned to Hermione. "And yet..."
"The second will take his heart." She whispered,remembering the prophecy, realization hitting her. "You think Tom would desire me?" She was incredulous. "He will kill me more like. Especially if he ever discovers it was me who stole his horcruxes all those years ago."
"From all of the reports he shows little interest in women with the exception of Bellatrix Lestrange." Harry said.
"You will permit me to say Miss Smith that you are quite unrecognizable from the wild eyed orphan I first met." He tapped the surface of the pensieve. The silvery form of a young Tom Riddle aged eleven rose up and rotated blinking hostile eyes. "I think it is likely that he may form an attachment to you at some point. If he does, you must not push him away. Indeed, we have seen that Tom was never given love. He was a little boy alone in the world."
"Harry was a little boy alone in the world and he did not grow to be a monster!" Hermione exploded. "Even as you placed him with the Dursley's who you knew hated what he was. How dare you ask this of me!"
"Wait! Are you suggesting my cousin prostitute herself to the darkest wizard this world has known?" Harry's green eyes shone clear and bright with rage. His body tensed as if ready to attack the elderly wizard.
"No, you misunderstand, I was going off of the clues in the prophecy." Dumbledore was appalled.
"But that is what it's saying? Isn't it?" Hermione's voice was hard. "Isn't that just the way for the women. Harry is the hero and I'm the...the..." She looked down at her hands which had balled into fists. She glanced up, her eyes defiant. "What if I do not accept this fate? Hasn't it taken enough from me? From us?" She gestured time Harry.
"I understand you. I truly do. More than you realize." Dumbledore's unmarred hand stroked the ring on his blackened finger. "You are just as much a hero in this as Harry. Do not ever doubt that. I see it myself. With Harry's courage and your brilliant mind you will vanquish Tom. Just think dear, this is the man who murdered his own parents, Hepzibah, Myrtle Warren and countless others. He has the combined gifts of his considerable magic and Grindlewald himself. I fear hundreds, perhaps thousands of lives will be destroyed if he is not stopped. Though you are children, you are the best hope we have. It is not fair to ask you to fight but I fear I must. For the greater good, I ask you in hopes that your children will one day be able to walk free on this earth."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I know what you're doing old man." She said but she sounded resigned. "This was why Hepzibah insisted on all those lessons on how to beguile, flatter and ensnare the attentions of wizards I suppose."
"She was very good at turning political tides in her favor when she was young." Dumbledore said delicately. He turned to Harry.
"I fear your chat with the snake during the duel has reached the wrong ears. My spies tell me that you have become a point of interest for Tom." He said.
Hardy shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't even realize. I was trying to keep it from attacking anyone else."
"Yes, commendable, however, it is now known that you now possess a skill only thought to be held by one living wizard. As you know from our perusal of these memories, Tom does not like to share." Hermione shivered at this. Her skin was still crawling at the thought that Tom might one day find her desirable.
Dumbledore continued. "It is likely that Tom will now be suspicious of that night at the Potter's. Up to this point he thought that your mother must have protected Harry and that's why Grindlewald's spell backfired. Tom had not thought that perhaps he inadvertently transferred some of his power to you that night. Now his suspicions are raised."
"I hadn't thought of that." Hermione's eyes were wide. Harry was all the family she had left. Suddenly it did not seem like such a big thing to ask of her. She would protect him from Tom if she could. Of course she would.
Dumbledore seemed to realize that she had reached the same conclusion. "I see you've understood. Now, I must ask you both to be here tomorrow night." He flipped his sleeve over to hide his blackened hand. The movement caused him to grimace. "I'm sorry but you both will have to come here frequently in the coming weeks. I've so much to tell you and I fear we are running out of time.
Out in the darkened hall Hermione turned to Harry with tears in her eyes. "Oh Harry!"
"What? What is it?" Harry was alarmed and immediately put a steadying hand in her.
"It's Dumbledore. I know what's wrong with his hand. I've just put it together. He's dying. Dumbledore is dying. That's why the sudden urgency and moving me from Beauxbaton's abruptly. He's been cursed."
"No!" Harry slumped his shoulders. "Are you sure?" Hermione nodded. "I've been doing research and I've just now put it all together. And I'll just bet it has to do with Tom as it always does." She suddenly hoped that Tom would fall madly in love with her. If this unlikely event occurred she would not be kind. Hermione wanted to be able to take from him just a fraction of what he'd taken from them.
...
Draco walked the halls quietly now. Shamed by Voldemort's inner circle he was given a wall of silence. This wall grew ever more impenetrable the longer it took him to allow the DeathEaters access to the castle. Even Pansy had turned her back to him.
The Slytherins whose families were not part of the inner circle had been giving him a wider and wider berth since his attack on Hermione. They looked through him. Draco felt much like he imagined the Bloody Baron felt, always carrying his family's name and subsequent shame about his neck. His mother had given him the tongue lashing of his life over the incident with Smith while his father had disproved of the public way in which he had carried it out.
He had thought a lot about her quiet words as they had both lay in pain. It had been true, she had never sought him out, had never engaged him in conversation and often would subtly slip from the group if he approached.
When he was younger he had thought this right. He had been taught that she was beneath him in every conceivable way. He assumed that she was jealous of him and his group, a lucky little social climber, his father had called her. Now he realized that it was Hepizabah's wish not hers that she join the parties.
After hearing about her scholarly exploits fourth year he had looked into it. Shame and rage had burned into him when he'd come to the realization that not only was she a better student than him but was in accelerated study as well. Eventually Lucius had caught wind of it and had lashed out violently at his son for his failure to surpass Mudblood trash.
He had noted in recent years that while Granger had developed friendships among some of their Pureblood peers from other houses she was also well respected by the adults. Indeed, he had heard her debate and win with some of the more elite political minds in the ministry. Nott had called her a know-it-all. Pansy had called her a pretentious bitch. None of them could refute the fact in recent years that Smith was eerily intelligent.
He slipped into advanced potions still deep in thought. And then there was Smith's long standing friendship with Harry Potter. He had thought them romantically linked but seeing her with Krum that day had proved otherwise. Draco knew that the Potter's had been murdered on Grindlewald's orders and somehow Harry had survived a killing curse. Indeed, this had caused quite a stir.
This fact was not widely known but his father had been a member of the inner circle. When they had started school Lucius had asked Draco to befriend Potter to see if the boy had any special talents. The embarrassment of Potter's dismissal of him still smarted. And now Voldemort was interested in the specky git, probably for the same reason. The last time he had seen him, the snake faced man had painfully rummaged through his mind. He had seemed pleased that Potter wasn't particularly gifted magically. Draco suspected his days were numbered which wouldn't have bothered him much. The scars from Potter's curse were fading to a white spider webbing across his body. They would always be there.
The potions dungeon was as gloomy as ever. Class had clearly not gone as planned for the Fourth years in the previous period. A funk of blue haze that smelled of lilacs and eggs still hung over the classroom. Slughorn sat at the front of the room methodically chewing his way through what appeared to be a raspberry ginger scone the size of his head. Draco spotted Granger's head of curls and slid into the table directly behind her.
He had taken her words to heart. He did not speak or taunt her any longer. The one directive he could not seem to adhere to was that he now watched her. They had the bulk of their classes together. Dumbledore had apparently chosen to put her in the classes at her age level and have professors give her private tutorials separately. Or so Draco had overheard.
Smith, Potter and Weasley had their heads bent closely together and were whispering intently. Subtly Draco leaned forward to hear.
"I told you Harry, there isn't a cure! I'm not even sure how he's survived this far." Hermione muttered.
"There's got to be something that can be done." Harry argued back.
"Awww, look at that! Old Sluggy has us doing Blood Replenishers today! I'll never be able to. Partner with me Hermione?" Ron begged.
"It's actually a fairly simply recipe, it's just a lot of very finicky steps." She told him calmly. Picking up her crisp potions book, she flipped to the already marked page. Beside her Potter pulled out a much less pristine copy of the potions text. Smith eyed it disdainfully. "I would think after the dueling incident you'd have returned that." She sniffed.
"I've told you! I'd no idea what that spell did." The hair's on Potter's head seemed to droop a little which, in Draco's opinion, did nothing to improve his looks.
"Well, the git shouldn't have attacked her. He deserved it." Weasley spat.
"No one deserved that!" Smith's voice was tired. "Someone should have stopped him, yes, but he'll have those scars for life."
"He deserves them. D'you know, I think Harry's right..." Ron started as Theo Nott noisily slid in next to Draco.
The three turned to glare at them. "Need anything?" Theo challenged. "If not.." he made an elegant, turn back around gesture with his fingers. They turned back to the front but Potter shifted in his seat so he could see both the Slytherins and the front of the class.
Slughorn had finished his scone and was brushing the crumbs from his moss green sweater. He explained the basics of the potion and cautioned the class on not adding the black wood fungus too soon. They got up to file into the potions cupboard two at a time.
It transpired, of course, that Smith and he would go in together. Draco could have asked Nott to go in his stead but at the last moment he slipped in. Smith had gathered almost everything and turned in the small space as she heard him enter. A flicker of fear went across her features. Draco went to stand beside her and collected his ingredients. He watched her. The small spray of freckles he'd noticed all those years ago were fading and he felt an inexplicable pang of loss. He could smell her perfume along with the scent of books and a hint of the strawberries he'd seen her eat at breakfast.
She glanced helplessly at the shiny black wood fungus behind his head and waited for him to move. Draco quickly grabbed two of them and held one out to her, his face impassive. Avoiding his eyes, she took it from him, their finger's grazing. Whirling around, she walked stiffly from the room.
At the tables He laid out his ingredients carefully. Nott came to stand beside him, his gangly frame taller by several inches. Crabbe and Goyle had failed to make sufficient marks and had left potions behind for less scholarly pursuits. Draco sometimes missed their silence. He had to be so much more careful with Nott. Both of their fathers were influential but Lucius had always been one step ahead of Nott Senior. The two boys had been pitted against one another since birth. They were friendly enough if it suited them politically.
Draco grasped his silver paring knife and began the arduous task of splitting mangosteen seeds. In front of them Weasley had just accidentally shot one of the slick seeds across the classroom which unfortunately hit a portrait of a dour looking wizard right on the nose. Smith let out a musical laugh and put her arm affectionately on the red head's shoulder.
"Looks like the Mudblood is all healed up." Theo muttered.
"Indeed." Draco began to powder the wood fungus.
"Would've been bad for you if she'd not survived." Theo's eyes ran laciviously down her body. "Wonder if she scarred." He said thoughtfully.
"What's that mean?" Draco kept his face calm.
Theo threw him a look. "I mean, she's been trained by Hepzibah Smith wasn't she? You've heard the stories, I'm sure. I was thinking if HE wins this I might ask for her. You know he's promised to divvy up the Mudbloods for his elite. I'd not want her marked up."
"Do we actually know for sure she's a Mudblood?" Draco wondered. His father had chided him over the attack, yes, but Draco had also seen the pride in his eyes. His father had told him that there was a time and a place to deal with people like Smith. He thought of her small body as she lay bleeding out by his hand in Snape's classroom. There had been no glory in it. She had just been a beautiful girl struck down by his idiocy. These thoughts, he knew, could get him killed.
"Doesn't matter really. How would she ever prove otherwise?" Theo said as he continued watching her in a way he would never look at a girl from a good family. "This one even comes with her own fortune. It was a disgrace that old Hepzibah kept carting her out to all of our events all those years. It's just not done."
Draco didn't say anything more as they continued to brew their potions. Slughorn lumbered from table to table making small comments and inspecting each potion. He gave a nod of approval to both Draco and Theo's work but announced that Smith's was the best of the class, he awarded Gryffindor ten points.
They packed up their bags to leave. "He can't be a proper Slytherin." Theo said loudly. "Hasn't the man any pride?" Weasley shot him a dirty look but Theo ignored him. Draco kept silent.
"Oh, and Malfoy? I expect an invitation to your family's...gathering for Spring Equinox. I hear there's going to be a good party in Wiltshire." Theo winked. Draco knew that the Dark Lord was planning a fete and frankly he wanted no part in it. He still had nightmares of he and his mother writhing under the Cruciatus.
"I'm sure you're invited." Draco shrugged. He felt eyes on him and looked up to find Smith regarding him with a mixture of shock and confusion. Catching herself she shook her head and grabbed her bag. Skirting around the two Slytherins she rushed from the room.