AN: Information about horcruxes comes from Pottermore/Wizarding World of Harry Potter. Thanks so much for reading and commenting! You don't know how much it means to me that so many of you are following my story. Thanks to my amazing alpha: ladeedaa and brilliant beta: astrangefan. Enjoy!
A Meeting with the Headmasters
"Padma, I love you, but I swear to Godric, if you don't let me out of this bed…" Hermione threatened. "I don't have time! If I'm to get stronger, I have to actually be allowed to use my own muscles."
"Stow the theatrics, Hermione," Padma replied with a roll of her deep brown eyes. "I've come here precisely to start the process of you getting out of that bed."
Hermione sighed with relief and blatantly ignored the smirk on Draco's face. "Finally!"
She'd spent the required twenty-four hours in bed and was not willing to waste any more time. After calling on Madam Pomfrey - a task made more difficult by her weak magic - and a thorough once over of Draco when he woke the previous night, it had been decided that he was facing no real consequences to the ritual beyond his body having needed three whole days of catatonic sleep.
He was also being force fed protein and iron, but he was perfectly capable of moving back to the common room. Hermione insisted on the same.
"Malfoy, do you mind?" Padma asked, indicating for him to take Hermione's left arm while she took the right.'
Draco was at her side instantly, his firm but gentle hand under her elbow as Hermione placed her feet on the floor and stood up. It frustrated her how weak she was. She did feel stronger. She wouldn't need Harry's help all the way to the bathroom anymore, but she felt lightheaded as she stood. When she wobbled, Draco's arm went around her waist.
"I'm fine," she insisted. "Just give me a minute to get steady."
Tentatively Draco unwound his arm from her and returned to guiding her elbow.
"You good?" Padma asked after a moment.
"Yes," Hermione assured her. She took a step and then another, smiling as she didn't wobble. "I'm fine," she insisted. "Weak, but fine. I just need some pepper up and a blood replenishing…"
"Blood replenishing we will absolutely give you, but you aren't going to artificially invigorate yourself," Padma said. "A pepper up now will mean fallout later. It's counterproductive."
"Fine," Hermione pouted, though she did know, intellectually, that Padma was right. "I'll stay in the common room and rest but I have to research. I have to meet with the portraits in McGonagall's office."
"Portraits?" Draco asked, "why?"
"Snape and Dumbledore knew about as much about horcruxes as anyone at this point," Hermione said. "I thought we could brainstorm."
Draco snorted. "They don't have brains, Hermione."
She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."
"I suppose I can't be of much use on the grounds anymore," Draco said, his tone somewhat disappointed.
"You could help me research," Hermione offered. "Or Theo and Ron are working on something to do with the destroyed Horcruxes. You could help with that."
Hermione was glad she actually had a job for him to do - both him and Theo - because she knew how much they wanted to be of use. It wasn't patronising either. Theo was actually helping according to Ron's report that morning.
"Actually," Draco said, "Madam Pomfrey has asked me to help with potions again, if…"
"Oh, that's great," Hermione beamed.
While she'd been distracted talking to Draco, Padma had wheeled the wheelchair up to the bed. "In," she indicated.
Hermione didn't argue. The truth be told, she wasn't certain she'd make it all the way up to Gryffindor Tower without its aid and she absolutely didn't want to overtax herself. Padma gave a wide smile when she complied.
Hermione lay on the carpet in front of the fire with Secrets of the Darkest Art - thankfully bestowed upon her immediately upon her return to the common room by Harry. He'd gotten it from McGonagall, who only knew it was in her office because Dumbledore's portrait told her the moment he'd found out that the Dark Energy was actually a horcrux trying to break through the barrier.
Hermione had seen this book once in her Unspeakable training, but in all reality, outside Voldemort, no one was really making horcruxes - at least not accurately. So, it wasn't a very important part of her education. Her personal curiosity after those months looking for horcruxes, though - she'd read over the criteria more than once.
According to the ritual, one didn't just accidentally make a horcrux. There were three criteria. First, one had to intentionally kill - and not in self-defence. Secondly, there was an entire concoction created and imbibed that included wormwood and snake venom. Lastly, after the concoction was ingested, a period of time had to pass, then blood spilled upon the intended object for creation of a horcrux. It was obvious that this did not occur. The waiting period was twenty-six hours according to Owle Bullock, and Voldemort was dead long before that time had passed in relation to his murder of Severus Snape.
On the other hand, Voldemort had created a kind of horcrux when he had killed Lily Potter - one that latched onto Harry.
Wait a minute.
'Harry wasn't a horcrux, though,' Hermione mused to herself. And yet, Voldemort's soul persevered inside Harry, though it never had control over him. Not the way Voldemort could and did have control over Nagini or the Diary…
She was chewing on the end of her Muggle pen, mulling over the issue in her mind when Harry sat down on the couch behind her.
"How's the book?" he asked.
"Illuminating," Hermione said in her best Snape impression.
Harry snorted. "I can't believe we are back here, in this place, doing this all over again."
"Help me up," Hermione said, rolling over and extending her hand to her best friend.
He pulled her up and she plopped down next to him on the couch. Resting her head against his broad shoulder, Hermione sighed. "How are you feeling about all this?" she asked.
"Feeling?" Harry said, as if the word were foreign and he didn't quite know the meaning. "I haven't had a chance to feel anything. It's been one crisis after another."
"I know," she said. "I just - I know this has to be particularly hard for you. You literally killed this monster twice - well, once and a half. Your mum did most of the heavy lifting the first time."
"It's maddening, Hermione. And what if in killing him this time he just breaks off another part of his soul…"
"Well, we have to ensure he has no chance to kill anyone in the process," Hermione interrupted. "He'll never get another chance. That has to be a priority."
"Agreed," Harry said. "Which is why I also don't want to bring this to the DMLE…"
"I'd wondered about that. I'm sure when I talk to Rilla later today, she's going to agree that this goes beyond the purview of the Department of Mysteries. But I don't trust the Aurors - no offence."
"I trust most of them - about this at least. But not all, and I don't trust the bureaucrats. I'm going to have to clue Kingsley in," he said. "And I don't see how I can avoid mentioning the link to The Marks."
Hermione nodded. "I had considered that. But - I don't trust Kings."
"He's been in The Order for ages," Harry countered.
"I know, Harry, but he's the Minister of Magic now. As much as we don't want to believe it, the fact is that power corrupts." She saw Harry about to protest, but she shook her head and continued. "I'm not saying Kingsley is actively corrupt. I'm saying that he's in the rat race of politics now. He's at least partially interested in keeping his position which makes him susceptible to putting what is easy over what is right. Right now - especially if word gets out about Voldemort's soul still being active - locking up Death Eaters will be incredibly easy."
"Kingsley doesn't think Nott needs to be in Azkaban, and I'm sure he can be convinced about Malfoy with a pensieve," Harry said.
"Kingsley, the man? Sure. Kingsley the Minister? I'm not convinced, and I can't risk it," Hermione explained. "Please, Harry, you have to understand my position."
"I do," Harry said. "I suppose I could treat the entire thing with the Horcrux like a separate matter. It is separate now that neither Nott or Malfoy are Marked. And we can keep the issue with their Marks under the jurisdiction of the Department of Mysteries. But you are going to have to tell Kingsley something if you want to avoid a hearing about that with the Wizengamot."
"I know," Hermione said. "It's on the list."
"Does that list ever get shorter?" Harry asked, quirking an eyebrow up at her.
"Nope." she replied with a sigh. "In fact, one of the things on my list because of my meeting with Rilla is to speak with Dumbledore and Snape's portraits. Would you be so kind as to escort me, kind sir?"
Harry chuckled, "Can do, madam." He offered her his arm and bowed, and Hermione snorted in amusement, but took it.
The walk seemed much longer considering her lightheadedness, but Hermione didn't dare complain, for fear that Harry would call Padma and she'd be tethered down to a bed again. Besides, the walk was good for her. She needed to build up her stamina and endurance - the quicker the better.
When they arrived at the gargoyle statue, Harry asked, "Would you like me to stay?"
Hermione waved him off. "No, of course not. You have plenty to do. I can send McGonagall's owl up to the Common Room when I'm ready to go."
Harry nodded and made his way back to Gryffindor Tower.
"Tartan," Hermione said quietly, and the gargoyle moved instantly. Professor McGonagall was not in her office, and Hermione hadn't expected her to be. With no children in the castle, her time was hers to do with what she wanted.
"Miss Granger," Dumbledore beamed when she moved toward the broad desk that sat in the middle of the room just in front of where the frames of Headmasters Dumbledore and Snape were placed on the wall.
"Good afternoon," she greeted politely, sitting in the chair in front of the desk, pushing it closer so she could utilise the desk space to take notes.
"Oh, a Muggle pen!" Dumbledore cried. "I do wish the Wizarding world would adopt them. So much more convenient."
Surprisingly, Snape nodded in agreement. Though he was raised as a half-blood in the Muggle World, Hermione had assumed Severus Snape was as resentful of Muggle Technology as any.
"To tell the truth, sir," Hermione said, "I think it's just pure stubbornness. Even my boss - who hasn't an anti-Muggle bone in her body - is absolutely manic about the use of quills."
"As fascinating as the talk of writing implements is," Snape said imperiously from his frame, "I don't believe you came to talk about pens."
"Quite right," Hermione agreed, pulling her notebook out of her cloak and flattening it onto the desk.
"I know you are both very interested in what Draco and I discovered near the boathouse. I'll give an overview and then I have a number of questions," she began.
"Go on," Dumbledore encouraged.
Hermione nodded. "Okay, we started with the idea that the Energy, since it had Voldemort's signature, might have had something to do with the few incidents where his power was greatest. That left us with the Great Hall where he was vanquished, The Forbidden Forest where he destroyed the horcrux inside Harry, and the Boathouse where he killed Professor Snape." Her eyes darted up to Snape's portrait, but if she'd expected a reaction, she would have been disappointed. His stoic face gave away nothing.
"At the time, Draco was still Marked. When we investigated the Boathouse, he could feel the Mark's call," she explained. "That's when we found that the energy moved through a rat hole out onto the grounds. My working theory is that the rat died, and it left Voldemort's soul without a home. I'm hesitant to drop the wards on the area and observe the Energy because that would give the soul something to latch onto."
"That's wise," Dumbledore agreed with a slow nod. "Now, you said that Harry was a horcrux, but there is need for a clarification."
"Yes?" Hermione asked, her interest piqued.
"Harry's scar was not a true horcrux. As I'm sure you've already read in The Secrets of the Darkest Art, there is a required procedure to create a horcrux. That is, you cannot create one by accident. This is also why Harry was never controlled by Voldemort. He never was possessed by Voldemort the way a horcrux can be," Dumbledore explained.
Hermione nodded, happy that he was noticing the same thing she had. "Exactly. Whatever happened to the rat, it sounds like what happened to Harry."
"That would by my hypothesis, Miss Granger. Although, even in this instance, it's not a direct correlation. Voldmort split his soul when he and his familiar killed Severus - a familiar that was imbued with a horcrux that he painstakingly made. When his soul split, it rebounded onto the rat. This is very similar to what happened to Harry, but this split of the soul badly debilitated Voldemort when Lily cast her protection spell. There was no such protection spell cast for Severus. That makes this situation entirely unique."
Hermione nodded, jotting down notes. "Now, the rat may never have had any indication he was connected to a wizard at all, much like Harry never knew a thing until he entered the Wizarding World and became a target for Voldemort. He may have lived his life until he died at which point - I'm afraid I don't have any answers," Dumbledore went on.
"Miss Granger, this has never happened before that we know of," Snape explained. "There have been cases of horcruxes inside living things - Nagini for instance - but when the animal died, the Horcrux died. That's exactly why they make poor hosts."
"But if this isn't a horcrux…" Hermione mused out loud. "Let's say that the theory is true. The rat died and then the part of Voldemort's soul that was left behind was expelled - do we have any information on souls surviving outside a host?"
"Not that I can recall," Dumbledore said, his finger tapping his chin as he thought. "Even ghosts are only copies of a soul - not genuine. It is possible that the soul attached itself to an unsuitable host and this could be why the energy of Voldemort's soul is calling out - seeking help."
"Unsuitable host," Hermione jotted down and underlined it twice.
"Are there any other works that you think could help?" Hermione asked. "As far as I know, the entirety of horcrux academic literature is in that one bloody book. But if, as you say, it's not actually a horcrux…"
"You don't understand, Miss Granger," Snape said, "Harry Potter is the only known case of a soul fracturing and attaching to something else unbidden. There is no literature because only a few people know anything about it. It's possible Voldemort was prone to this phenomenon because his soul was already so fractured, or perhaps he's genetically predisposed. We have no idea. My suspicion is that it's the former."
"For this reason," Dumbledore cut in, "it is vital you don't let him take another human life. He must be killed without taking a life. You understand."
"I understand," Hermione said, having already come to that conclusion ages ago.
"How is Mister Malfoy doing?" the portrait of Dumbledore asked.
"Fine," Hermione said, her tone clipped. She did not feel inclined to talk to her former headmaster about a boy he used as much as he used her best friend like a chess piece.
"I can see you are not happy with me, Miss Granger," he said, finally putting words to the thought he'd probably been carrying for weeks. Hermione wasn't sure she knew how to respond. She wasn't happy with him, but the reasons were so varied and vast it was hardly the time or place to get into them.
But as Dumbledore was accustomed to doing, he continued right on without her input. "I understand that I made a number of choices that you don't understand, that you think put Harry in worse danger…"
"Stop," Hermione said, her voice harsher than she intended. "Don't defend yourself," she said, looking up at him defiantly. "You used us - all of us, including Draco - like pieces on a chess board. I already know you justify it by saying it won the War. I already know you think you did the right thing. I wonder, though, what might have happened if you hadn't held all the cards and dealt them out just when you saw fit."
"I, Miss Granger, have asked him the same question more than one-hundred times and you'll never get a satisfactory answer to that," Snape said, in the natural bored tone he'd perfected in life.
"I don't dispute that I have my own biases, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "I don't dispute that my myopic path toward the goal of ridding the world of Voldemort distorted my ability to make the best choices, but my choices did save us. Do you think Harry would have offered himself in the Forbidden Forest had I told him from early on that was his destiny?"
"Yes!" Hermione cried, "And if you knew anything about him, you'd know that. But even forgetting how badly you left us when you died, how bereft of a path or plan, what I want to know - what I've wanted to know for years - why did you do nothing while those vile people abused Harry? Why did you let your ongoing biases and prejudices, in essence, force the Slytherins of Hogwarts into the arms of Death Eaters?"
Her voice rose with every sentence until she was shouting, but the exertion left her lightheaded. She rested her head against the desk and took several deep breaths. Snape and Dumbledore remained silent as she caught her breath. Then, Dumbledore spoke.
"This is a conversation I should have had - should still have with Harry. What the Dursleys did to him was grotesque, and I've never forgiven myself for putting him in that position. My only defence was that I knew it would keep him safe for sixteen years and I knew Petunia well enough to know that she did still hold love in her heart for her sister. It was that love that did, in the end, protect him." Hermione scoffed but said nothing. "I've gone over this time and time again in my mind. Voldemort knew he couldn't touch him there. And so, he never tried. If Harry had been in Order custody he would have tried, often. And it would have put not only Harry, but everyone around him in danger. I made a calculated decision…"
"And what if he'd become an obscurus?" she questioned. "You knew Petunia and her vile excuse for a husband not only didn't approve of magic, they hated it. Did you not think that was a risk? You, of all people, should have known the risk involved with putting a powerful magical child in the hands of anti-magic bigots."
"Despite what it might appear to the outside, I didn't leave Harry on a doorstep at one and walk away with no way of knowing about his treatment. I knew. I was perfectly capable of stepping in…"
Hermione interrupted again. "Fine. So, he lives in a cupboard, nearly starves to death, and is pummelled by his cousin, but he was still on the path to Hogwarts, so fine. Let's call that a ringing success. Never mind Harry carries around the trauma of that abuse to this day," she huffed. She knew she was being disrespectful, she knew she sounded like a brat, but this was years of grievances and her first opportunity to address them.
"What about the Slytherins? What about Draco? You gave up on them. You never bothered to think they might be worth saving, did you?" Hermione accused.
"I admit that one of my deepest regrets is how I handled the House rivalries. Stealing Slytherin victories was poor sportsmanship, and by the time you and your friends arrived at Hogwarts, my biases ran deep. In death, sitting here in this portrait looking over Minerva's shoulder as she runs the school more equitably, I see the myriad mistakes I've made. I could have and should have stepped in and stopped the bullying of James and Sirius…"
Snape snorted.
"I could have, and should have, made it clear to all Slytherins that there was another way. I left so many doors closed to them, and for that I do apologise. I also apologise for leaving the last months before the end of the War a bit of an unsolvable puzzle. I had intended to sit with Harry and go over everything, but…"
"It was the curse," Snape supplied. "When he put that ring on his hand like a fool, the curse affected him. It couldn't stop him from acting of his own free will to seek out horcruxes, but it did call to him to put off telling Harry everything he needed to know until it was too late."
"It was sentient?" Hermione asked, now fully over her argument with Dumbledore and intrigued by Snape's explanation.
"Not entirely. The Headmaster had full control of his faculties and choices. But he hadn't wanted to tell Harry the full extent anyway. The curse exploited that desire and he put it off too long," Snape explained.
Hermione sighed. She supposed it was all water under the bridge now. She had a million gripes with Dumbledore, but he was dead. Whatever he'd done, he couldn't fix it now.
"I'm sorry I've been a disappointment to you," Dumbledore finally said. It wasn't a self-pitying kind of statement. He sounded tired.
"It's fine," she said, shuffling her papers together. "It can't be helped now. At this point, I have far too much to worry about ahead of me to dwell on what's behind us."
"Wise, Miss Granger. Very wise." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and for the first time in a long time it didn't irritate Hermione.
"These beds are so much more comfortable than the ones in Hospital," Draco noted as he settled in and opened his arms for Hermione to join.
"Mmm," she moaned in agreement as she pulled the down blanket up to her chin and settled into Draco's side. "Can I see it again?"
Draco's laugh rumbled against her cheek as he pulled his left arm out of the blankets and showed her the spot where The Mark had been. "I'll never get tired of that."
"Obviously," Draco quipped. "You've looked at it thirty times this afternoon."
"Pain, scale of one to ten?" she asked.
"Two," Draco said.
Hermione's eyes darted up to his, "Two! What's wrong?"
"What's wrong, is that I have a beautiful witch in my bed and I'm not fucking her," he said.
Hermione rolled her eyes and slapped his chest. He chuckled again.
"I'm joking. I have no pain, I'm perfectly fine except the rogue Death Eaters we can't find and The Dark Lord, surprise, being alive in a blade of grass or some such shite."
"You know, I hadn't thought about plants…" Hermione was immediately interrupted by Draco's lips on hers.
Whatever she was about to say flew directly out of her brain as she moaned against him. Clearly, he didn't want to talk about the Energy anymore and she wasn't opposed to allowing him to distract her.
"Fuck, you taste good," he breathed against her. The rough growl of his voice sent electric energy straight to her core. Wrapping her leg around him she hauled her weak body, with great effort, on top of him and kissed him slowly and deeply - as if she wanted to suck the soul from his body.
His hands firmly rested against her hips, but he pushed her back when she writhed against him. "Hermione…" he breathed.
"Mmm," she was beyond words as she tried to recapture his lips but he dodged her.
"You aren't strong enough," he insisted.
Hermione pouted. Okay, so she was already breathless, and her muscles strained, but Godrick Gryffindor she wanted him so badly.
Draco chuckled and rolled her back over to lay beside him, but instead of moving off her he kissed her neck and let his hands wander up her shirt. "You aren't strong enough for that, but that doesn't mean I can't make you come," he breathed against the shell of her ear and she shuddered.
"Please," she begged wantonly and she felt his cock twitch against her thigh.
Like an expert, Draco peeled her clothes off and settled between her legs before feasting on her wet quim like a starving man. He brought her to the edge of orgasm over and over until she begged him to take mercy on her.
He did, over and over, licking and sucking at her tender flesh until she was a weeping, shaking mess - high on her own multiple orgasms. Proud of himself, Draco pulled off his own clothes and slid against her under the sheets, warm flesh against warm flesh. Her heart slowed as she felt all of him behind her, holding her tightly to him and whispering the naughty things he planned to do to her when she had her full strength.
She felt euphoric and strong in a way her body wasn't at the moment. Her fingers rubbed gently against his left forearm as her eyes grew heavy and she knew in that moment she was completely, entirely, in love with Draco Malfoy.