Song Suggestion: xxxtentacion– "I spoke to the devil in miami, he said everything would be fine"
A/N: This story is Hermione-centric, meaning that Dramione is integral to the overall plot, but it's secondary to her character arc. The first section of this story (chapter 1 through 21) doesn't feature him as much. He'll be in it a lot more after that. Those of you that have read my other stories know I have several plot twists ahead. Prepare to buckle up lol.
The lovely Frau Blucher drew an amazing fanart of the Coven of the Tree. I put it at the bottom of chapter 11. Go check it out!
MyPrivateInsanity deserves all the kudos for her editing skills!
Trigger Warning posted at the end for those that need it.
A Spinning Ballerina
When Hermione got home, she ran to the bathroom and vomited. Titus, seeing her distress, followed her and rapped on the door with his knuckles.
"Are you okay?"
Hermione wiped her mouth, sitting back but still hovering over the toilet. "I must have eaten something bad."
"I'll tell Bitty to get you a potion to settle your stomach."
A potion would do nothing. It wasn't food; it was horror.
For the first time since she was a child, she feared a monster. Blaise planned to wiggle his way into her future. The dilemma of what to do made her ill. She couldn't tell Titus. But neither could she stay silent.
For an entire week, she agonised over the decision. In the end, it was ripped from her hands.
Blaise arrived through the floo a day before winter break ended. Hermione had thought it was Theo coming back from Diagon Alley with his new quills. But instead, she saw Zabini enter Nott Manor, cleaning off the ash from exquisitely tailored black robes. Hermione froze in the doorway, watching as Bitty asked his name and purpose and then popped away to tell Titus.
Blaise looked up, met her eyes, and gave a wink, biting back a smirk as he placed his hands behind his back.
Theo had told her that he was raised by a single mum. His father died in Zabini's childhood, and his mum had a rotation of stepfathers and suitors stepping in and out of his life. If he weren't so horrid, she might have been sympathetic.
Titus walked into the room from the opposite side. When he reached Blaise, he stuck out his hand. Blaise grabbed it, shaking hard.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Zabini?"
Titus sounded calm, though she wasn't fooled by it. He was constantly analysing everyone in his environment, watching every detail of their movements, expressions and actions, which made him able to read people without the use of legilimency. He'd once told her that people gave away their secrets through their body language. A person just needed to pay attention.
Titus did the same now to Blaise, eyes sliding over him. Hermione wondered if he sensed the same things she did— a complete disconnect, something lacking in the soul.
Titus released his hand after holding it for a little longer than normal.
"I'm here to offer my token for Hermione."
Titus straightened with an expression a bit more hostile, though he smoothed it over.
"And why should I consider you?"
"As you know, my father was from a deeply respected Italian pureblood family— one of the oldest in the world— dating back to the Roman era. I'm also second in my class, and I've already secured an internship with Gringotts."
Titus glanced back, catching her eye. She still stood in the doorway, unsure how to escape the situation.
"Come here, Sprite."
She obeyed, shuffling in. The nerves jumped in her stomach again. Blaise played a game, but so did Titus. She saw the question in his eyes— why would Blaise have the audacity to show up at Nott Manor and ask to put in a token?
"What do you think?" Titus asked.
Hermione let herself relax, loosening each tense muscle before responding. What could Zabini do, really? She decided to call his bluff.
"No."
Titus turned back to Blaise, who looked aghast that he even asked her opinion.
"Then no."
Blaise pulled his lips back in pure disgust.
"Letting your pet decide? This should be reported and investigated by the Wizengamot. You must be confused about who is the dog and who is the master."
Titus didn't move, though his wand hand twitched.
"If Hermione doesn't like someone, then I don't like them either," Titus answered. "The Wizengamot wouldn't investigate me denying you a token. You're a second-rate wizard, and you'll stay second-rate. It's why you want Hermione, thinking an association with her will bolster you in the public eye. But she's more of a witch than you'd ever be a wizard."
Blaise grit his teeth, eyes finally sparking to life. It seemed the only emotion he could dredge from his soul was a feral type of rage.
"They'll investigate you once I tell them you've given your little pet a wand." Blaise wore a smug smirk with the subsequent silence. "Lucky for you, I don't really care. No one needs to know a thing. And before you decide to retaliate, just know that several important figures already have scrolls charmed to reveal the secret within the hour… that is, unless I deactivate it." He straightened his robes. "I'm willing to overlook the previous insult, as long as we have a deal. A token for my silence."
She didn't even see Titus extract his wand. It sprung into his hand.
"Cruico!"
Blaise collapsed against the ground, screaming in agony, body twisting into contortions.
"Coming into my house, threatening me?" Titus bared his teeth, holding the spell longer than she thought possible. The curse cast frightful shadows on his face. Hermione scrambled back, unable to believe what she was seeing.
Titus was using an unforgivable. She'd read about them in her stolen defence book, and though she knew he had killed people, she never thought him capable of an unforgivable.
When he let up the curse, Titus stepped toward Blaise. Each click of his boot on the tile below built the threat until he stood above him. Blaise's body still trembled with the shock of the torture.
"What am I going to do with you?" Titus crouched down and placed the tip of his wand next to his jugular. "I really want to unravel your insides. I'd like to see your expression while I do it. On every person, it's always the same, even if they know it's coming. It's as if they didn't quite believe they'd actually die. But they do, of course, usually quite painfully."
Blaise managed to sneer through his involuntary spasms.
"You're not allowed to kill me," his voice was cracking. "My mother is sleeping with Walter Filibus. "
"Your mother's cunt isn't worth that much."
"They'll put you in Azkaban."
"Do you really think they'd arrest me?"
"The law—"
"I am the law." Titus gave a derisive laugh. "You're going to learn a hard lesson today that political games are best left to the adults that understand them."
"They'll care that she can do magic with and without a wand."
"You miscalculated two things. One," he said. "I care for Hermione, making what you propose a threat to my family. Two—" His lips curled in disdain. "Your threat no longer has teeth for the bite. If you'd made it six months ago, I might have hesitated, but not anymore. I made sure of that. It might accelerate a few plans, but it's nothing I couldn't manage. No one is taking her from me, least of all you. The members of the Wizengamot now either owe me favours, life debts, or they're afraid of me… as you should have been."
Though it was obvious he tried to remain unaffected, Blaise made a small noise of disbelief.
Titus just stared, cocking his head. He leaned down with a glint in his eye and placed his wand to the middle of Blaise's chest, splitting his shirt apart with a rip, baring his chest.
"Due to my deep respect for your late father, I'll give you a warning. Try to threaten me again, and I'll drag your corpse to your mother."
For the first time, Zabini looked scared, as if he never thought Titus would actually harm him.
"Let's make a deal. I think we could—"
Titus ran his wand again down Blaise's exposed skin, and a low scream was ripped from his lips. When Titus finally pulled away, a thick line of welted flesh was left down the middle of his chest, seeping small droplets of blood.
"You need to stop talking."
Blaise panted, ribs expanding and shuddering. Involuntary tears ran down his cheeks. Hermione could only stare, unsure what to feel. Seeing Titus' violence disturbed her, but what disturbed her more was the satisfaction she felt hearing Blaise's pained scream. She'd never thought of herself as cruel, but she'd watched the torture, wishing it had been her wand, her vengeance. The intensity of it scared her.
"How did he know about the wand, Sprite?" Titus' voice was low like a growl. He reached into his robe and pulled out a knife. The cloying slime of dark magic dripped from it.
Hermione grabbed the sides of her dress, bunching the fabric in her hands.
"He cornered me in the Goyle library." She saw no need to lie anymore. He'd probably tear through Blaise's memories soon.
Titus flicked his eyes to her. In the few seconds they connected, she felt splayed open for him to read.
"Did he touch you?"
"He—he grabbed my face."
His eyes narrowed.
"Anywhere else?"
"He pulled the back of my hair. He wanted me to get on my knees and—" The words caught in her throat. "He told me to open my mouth to— I used my magic to protect myself."
Titus' rage slid off his face, replaced by a cold mask.
"What did I say would happen if any of them touched you?"
Her heart jolted, remembering his breath on her neck, hands on her hips.
"You'd slice their fingers off."
"What kind of man would I be if I didn't stand by my word?"
Blaise began to struggle while cursing, but Titus kneeled down, trapping his wrist to the ground with his knee. He used a nonverbal spell to keep the rest of him in place.
The room went still for several moments, as if a single breath would tip into chaos.
"I want you to go and wait for me in the back sitting room, Sprite." Titus tapped the flat side of the knife against Blaise's cheek. "I need to teach Zabini how to respect his betters. It might be awhile before I can join you. I think I'll take my time."
Hermione hesitated, wishing to stay. She'd never seen this brutal, cold side of Titus. But with one look at Titus, she knew she wouldn't win that argument.
She twisted and exited the room, shutting the door.
Before she even made it down the hallway, Blaise began screaming.
Hermione waited on a small red velvet settee. The back sitting room had been his mother's favourite. Compared to the rest of the house, the colours were light, with walls a soothing cream. A big picture window took up one wall, overlooking the north gardens. The giant unicorn statue stood in the center of the garden, surrounded by a maze of hedges. She'd loved it as a child, climbing on the unicorn's back, pretending it could come alive.
It could, she supposed. Titus told her long ago that all the statues around the property were spelled to animate and protect the family if under attack. Hogwarts had a similar security system. It had only been used once around four hundred years before. The statues slaughtered the invaders, leaving body parts strewn across the gardens.
Hermione turned her focus to the art on the sitting room walls. Dancers leaped and posed. A ballerina performed a pretty pirouette, looking as elegant as a swan as she then twirled, extending her arms and legs in turns. Theatre and dance were one of the few entertainments that muggles and wizards shared, even before the great war, though there were slight differences— or, at least, that's what she'd been told.
The door cracked open, and Titus entered. He pulled to a stop and stared at her while she studied the portraits. Then he slowly made his way to a cream-colored sofa across from her. He sat, smoothing his shirt. He'd cleaned most of the blood off him, but a splash of crimson marred his cheek.
"That one was my mothers' favourite." Titus pointed to the ballerina. "She bought it shortly after her marriage." He paused, as if expecting a reply, but she couldn't look at him. "She would have liked you. You both have strong spirits, and she wasn't afraid to tell my father her opinion. When she was at Hogwarts, she was a Ravenclaw and Head Girl. Many of the selections in the library were for her love of books."
"Are they? I wouldn't know."
"Look at me, Sprite."
"No."
"Please."
She shook her head, eyes on the twirling ballerina. Around and around on her toes, arm outstretched.
"I shouldn't have attacked him in front of you."
The violence disturbed her, but she was glad Zabini could no longer hurt her. She suspected if Titus hadn't put him in his place, the Malfoys would have.
It was the fact he was going to take her books again. The moment she informed him she went into the Goyle library, he knew she'd taken some. If she looked at him, she might hate him again.
She'd already decided to gather the books herself, before he had a chance to order her. She'd stopped by her room and had taken them out of her purse. Taking a risk, she'd left the one bound in skin.
Hermione placed her hand on top of the small stack of books next to her on the settee.
"These are what you're after."
She heard him sigh.
"Even if I overlooked your theft, I can't ignore how you put yourself in danger. Do you see now why I'm strict with my rules? He could have really hurt you. If he hadn't been the last Zabini, I would have gutted him."
Her head whipped around, forgetting that she didn't want to look at him. It was a mistake. His blue eyes glowed in the winter light, trapping her into his gaze.
"But he didn't," Hermione argued. "I'm not some wilting flower. I was perfectly capable of defending myself. If you'd let me have complete access to our library, I could have done even more."
"You fought fine against Zabini," he said, as if to placate her. "But you wouldn't have stood a chance against a more competent wizard, especially if they surprised you. I know you've started to chafe under the restrictions you're under, but you must learn to accept them. The rules are there to keep you safe, not to punish you."
Hermione felt like she was suffocating. She didn't want him speaking to her when her emotions boiled to the surface.
"I wish to be alone," she said.
He ran a hand through his hair and stood up.
"I'm afraid I can't do that." His jaw clenched, fist curling at his side before straightening. His temper was on a tight leash. Whatever he was about to say made him very angry—so angry he didn't trust himself. "When I went through Blaise's memories, I found something… concerning."
Hermione dug her fingers into the fabric of the settee. She prepared herself, stiffening her spine for the upcoming storm, knowing what he sought.
Titus walked over. She attempted to keep her eyes flat while he cupped the bottom of her jaw and tugged it up, keeping her stare.
"Were you ever alone with Draco Malfoy?"
"No." As much as she tried, it sounded rushed and tight. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but she failed.
Just as his hand tightened, she wrenched herself away from him and scrambled across the room, pressing herself to the wall next to the ballerina. She'd never seen Titus this angry, almost unhinged. Not even when she used the prank fireworks.
He took big gulping breaths and started to pace. Bringing both his hands to his hair, he dug them in and tugged, making a noise of rage.
"What did you do with him?" He stopped pacing and took a few steps closer.
"Nothing," she said. "We just talked."
"What did I say about lying?"
"We kissed!" She yelled, throwing all her emotions into it so it would distract him. A kiss was more innocent than what they'd done in the glade. She'd learned long ago to give away the least to deflect from the worst.
"You fucking kissed him!" He roared and walked forward until he nearly pressed against her, hands placed on the wall on either side of her head.
"We just kissed," she said again, this time softer.
"Anything more?" He asked, showing all his teeth in a snarl. He looked as if he wanted to reach forward and bite her. "Did he touch you?"
"Do you think I'd let him do that?" She answered a question with a question. Titus was usually cool enough to catch the manipulation, but he was seething, panting hard.
"I don't know what you'll do anymore. Every time I turn my back, you're being reckless." He paused and closed his eyes briefly, trying to regain control. "Maybe I should start your Trials before you do something irrevocably stupid."
"Don't." Panic spiked through her at the threat. "You promised."
He shook his head and then leaned down, resting his forehead on hers. His hands transferred to her neck, sliding them up and tangling in her hair. Hermione froze, unsure what to do with how close their faces were. His breath warmed her lips. A clean scent drifted toward her, mixed with cinnamon.
"Was it after Theo's games?" He made a frustrated noise. "Fuck, of course, it was after—Theo is not going to like our next conversation. I can't believe you gave that spoiled git your first kiss. He—"
"Don't get mad at Theo," she whispered. "I escaped him and found Draco. We kissed. Nothing more, I swear."
His hands tightened and then he released her. Maybe he believed her… or maybe he just wanted to believe her.
"I'm going to kill Malfoy."
"No!" Hermione cried, knowing he truly meant the threat. "It was my fault. I was the one who kissed him." Which wasn't a lie, and wasn't quite the truth. "I—I wanted to know what it felt like. I found one of your mother's books, and the man kissed the woman he loved—"
"Draco doesn't love you."
"How would you know?"
Titus walked back to the couch. He sat down, resting his elbows on his knees, and stared at the floor. Hermione had trouble reading him, but she thought he might be wounded, which only confused her. She'd rather he be angry again.
"Because, if he did, he wouldn't have risked so much for a kiss. What you're experiencing is infatuation, not love."
She agreed with him. She didn't love Draco, but she also didn't like being told what to do.
"So you're the expert on love now? Every week there's a new woman entering the manor, and you have the audacity to lecture me on feelings."
Titus' eyes snapped up. They burned through her, pinning her into place.
"Oh, I know what it feels like to love." He stood again, eerily calm, wearing his cold mask. He walked over to the window, staring out, clasping his hands behind his back. "And I also know it requires sacrifices. Denying impulses and selfish desires for the sake of the other person."
Hermione reeled with the words, trying to decipher what he was really saying.
"Your feelings are natural," he said more softly, as if conceding something. "Everyone your age has… urges. The kiss wasn't inherently wrong. You're both stupid and young, but it can't ever happen again. Not until the Trials. You have no clue what you and Draco are risking. If he'd — compromised you, all of us would have been punished severely."
She didn't think Titus' threat toward Malfoy was gone. He never forgot a slight. She knew he was only pretending to concede for her sake. Draco was in serious danger.
Her eyes felt hot for the first time in years, the closest she'd gotten to crying. The broken shards in her chest lacerated something. The fear emptied out of her, leaving a familiar suffocation, a feeling that had been growing all year.
"So I can't kiss Draco, but you get to have sex with whoever you want?"
"Don't be crude," he said.
"Answer the question."
Titus twisted to view her. He looked beautiful framed by the light from the window. Her protector. Her guardian. He was the axis to her world. But at the moment, he looked as unyielding as the statues decorating the garden.
"That's the harsh reality," he said. "You can either fight against it and choose to be miserable, or you can accept your circumstances. We all have roles and duties. Do you think I wanted to become the head of this household at sixteen? Do you think I was ready to take the responsibility for you and Theo? I was just a child myself, but I stood up and did what I had to. And no, I don't get to spend my nights with whoever I want. I'm bound by rules too." He closed his eyes for a moment. "My job is to protect you, even if it's from yourself, which is why I'm going to ban you from Hogwarts forever."
"Forever?" She could see the grey towers now. The quidditch pitch. The lake. The astronomy tower. The library. The glade filled with flowers. She didn't even know it was something to grieve until it was taken.
"I wish I didn't have to do this, but you've left me no choice. I'm not even going to use legilimency to find out if you've told the truth, though I want to. I'll let you keep your dignity in that, because it no longer matters. From this point on, you won't be able to do anything rebellious, because I won't give you the opportunity to put yourself at risk."
For the past few months, she'd felt like a flower, blooming in the sun. But the dark clouds smothered the light, leaving her exposed to the harsh elements. She placed a hand to her sternum.
A sob broke from behind her lips. It surprised even her. After, she pressed her lips together, refusing to let another slip out.
He looked alarmed at her reaction.
"Fuck—don't cry."
He walked close to her again, attempting to comfort her, but she shoved at his shoulders. It didn't move him, but he stopped, surprised. She'd never physically lashed out at him like that.
"Don't touch me!"
"Sprite—"
"Just leave me alone. I don't want you anywhere near me!"
Titus recoiled, as if she'd physically hit him.
She hurt his feelings with her rejection, and she hated that she cared.
He bowed his head a little with a frown, staring at the floor as if he could find the solution to his problems in the wooden planks.
"As you wish." He walked out of the room and slammed the door behind him. The sound echoed around her, settling into her soul.
Hermione sat back down and stared at the ballerina.
Spinning around and around.
Trapped in the painting.
Trigger Warning: Torture
