Propensity and the Chaotic Pendulum.
Chapter 6.
Morsmordre.
---
"And then Voldemort bungled the whole thing by calling for his Death Eaters," Snape filled in when Hermione took a pause. Her eyes were suddenly deadened.
"I was alone there… in Malfoy Manor. Precisely what my plan called for, as I was able to search the manor uninterrupted. It just wasn't, shall we say, a pleasant experience."
"A, forgive me love, Mudblood in the Darkest pureblood's house. I imagine even the walls hurled abuse at you." He leaned forward and gently touched Hermione's forearm. "But we both know the only trash here is Malfoy."
"I'd just rather not---let's go on."
-----
When Draco and his father returned, Draco's entire manner towards Hermione changed. Before, she was something of a necessary annoyance, but he had long since ceased to care what she did or didn't do. The only time she came in handy was when he needed to get out of a tight spot, and she happened to be the only one capable of helping him. Since that day, he'd treated her slightly better. She had realized during their school years that his constant antagonism of her had little to do with her. It was mainly about appearances, and as an added bonus--it annoyed Harry.
But this symbiotic relationship changed in the wake of the latest Death Eater gathering. Draco now regarded Hermione with a kind of sick curiosity--as if she were a wonderful new opportunity. Which, she soon learned, was exactly what she was. Hermione was laying in the secluded room where Draco had stuck her. She'd placed countless wards on the door, but no one had ever accused Draco of being unskilled with a wand. He penetrated her defenses with little effort and she found herself being dragged through the manor. She managed to escape his physical grip but she had nowhere to run. She had been forced to beg him to let her go.
"Let you go, Granger? I'm not completely daft. They think I'm not strong enough to fight for Him. I need to prove myself here, and I think you'll do quite nicely."
"Draco! I know you aren't daft… but listen, there must be a better way to do this. You need to prove yourself to them, I understand. And I agree--I'd be a great way to do that. But if you take me to your father right now, he's bound to ask how you got me."
A look of comprehension replaced some of the rage on Draco's pointed face. "I'd have to admit that you've stayed here," he realized.
"Yes, and I don't imagine your father would be pleased about that."
"So what do you propose I do, Granger? Let you run away?"
"Let me run away, yes. But catch me. I promise you, I won't hide. Give it a few days, and then find me. I swear on my honor that I won't make it hard to find me."
"Your honor, Granger?"
"Yes. This will work, it really will," Hermione gushed, completely confused. She had no idea what she was saying. It was as though someone else were planting these ideas in her head.
"I don't get it, Granger. What's in this for you?"
"A chance to prove that I'm not on Dumbledore's side anymore… a shot at a different life."
Draco looked unconvinced, but quickly saw he had no real choice. "I better be able to find you, Mudblood," he hissed as he escorted her, once again Disillusioned, out of the manor. She didn't reply, but ran as fast as she could. She had to see Dumbledore, right away.
---
"And don't bother telling me it was stupid to ever promise such a thing to Malfoy, all right? I don't know what came over me."
"You don't?"
"What--you do?"
"Of course. Death Eaters usually know when one is placed under Imperius."
"What?" Hermione screeched, knocking over her water glass. Snape looked surprised.
"I thought you knew."
"No, I bloody well did not know! Leave us alone!" she snapped at the waiter who had approached with a fresh glass of water. He set her glass down and scurried away.
"Wonderful. Listen, you are an incredibly talented witch. I do not argue this point. But did you honestly believe Lucius Malfoy didn't know someone had been in his home? Of course he knew you were there, silly girl. He didn't let on to Draco, but he cast the spell on Draco as well, forcing him to capture you."
"And then he cast the spell on me, to let me get away?" Hermione asked incredulously.
"No, you foolish child! Honestly, I thought you knew things. You said it yourself--how would it look if Draco brought his stowaway Mudblood to the attention of everyone? He wanted you to flee. Lucius loves a chase," he added with a bit of sarcasm.
"But… did he intend me to go to Dumbledore?"
"Yes, and he would have followed you if I hadn't interfered. I will admit, I wasn't aware that I was helping. I simply had good timing."
"Jesus," Hermione whispered, sinking her head into her arms.
"Don't dwell on it. It's happened."
"That's a funny thing coming from you, the prince of dwellers."
"Touché… keep going, love. I'm sorry I interrupted again."
Hermione sighed. "I don't know how much of the rest of it was actually me, and how much was someone else's designs. Am I a total idiot?"
"Absolutely not. You simply fell victim to someone quite stronger than you. Its certainly not your fault."
She snorted but continued, resigned to the explanation and curious now to see how else he could augment her understanding of events.
---
Hermione went to Grimmauld Place immediately, hoping she would find Dumbledore there. She didn't, of course, but she found Lupin, the next best thing. She poured out her tale and tried to ignore his constant reprimands for the danger she had placed herself in.
"We have to find Harry! And Malfoy is our only clue. Can you blame me for being a little reckless?" she had shouted. Lupin had shrugged mildly.
---
"Yes, that does sound like dear old Remus," Snape muttered grimly. Hermione chose to ignore him.
---
Hermione had been given tea and ordered to rest. Dumbledore would be contacted. Within the hour, he was at the door, looking very concerned. He was ushered into one of the upstairs bedrooms with Hermione. She had personally never seen him so tired and pinched. He looked thin and quite older than she remembered. He smiled wanly at her.
"What's the trouble, Miss Granger?" Within minutes she had poured out the entire story, her desperation, the way she had seemingly pulled the plan from nowhere. Dumbledore looked grim. He shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry to say this, Hermione, but you are in quite a spot. We don't need to incite the wrath of a Malfoy. Not now, when they may have Harry."
"They DO have him, sir. I know it. I just can't prove it," she admitted angrily. It hurt to say that. It hurt to imagine Harry, who knows where, counting on the Order--who were unable to help him at all.
"When Malfoy apprehends you, you must pretend to think quickly. You must find a way to entice Draco to save your life--and even…" Dumbledore lowered his eyes. Hermione leaned forward.
"Even what, sir?"
"Make him take you as his bride."
"What? He'd never go for it! I'm not pureblood."
"No, you're not. And that will be difficult to overcome--but it must be done. You must make Draco see that killing you would be an incredible waste. Get him to imagine the possibilities! One of the Gryffindor Three, come to the Dark Side because of Draco Malfoy!"
"He'll love it."
"Indeed. And, don't worry--we'll make sure any marriage is not legally binding."
Hermione sat in silence, pondering this new turn. She was awfully keen on knowing why Dumbledore had come up with this plan--and why, precisely, he was so enthusiastic about it. She'd expected him to help her escape, not invent new ways to imprison her. Finally, she cleared her throat and spoke timidly.
"Do you reckon this will help us find Harry?"
"I certainly hope so. More than that, it will give a direct link into Malfoy's actions."
"So, I'm to be a spy now?"
"Something like that," Dumbledore agreed. Hermione stewed inside but said nothing--there are certain people one doesn't challenge. Albus Dumbledore is definitely one of those people. She merely nodded in deference. Dumbledore left several minutes later, bidding Hermione good luck and telling her, "At the first sign of danger, grasp this and call my name," passing her a small, unassuming rock. "It will find me and I will come to your aid."
"Thank you sir."
Hermione lay in bed that night, hundreds of questions swirling about in her overactive brain. She tossed and turned. Why had Dumbledore suggested marriage? He didn't even have to think about it. The plan was right there on the tip of his tongue, like he'd been waiting for the right time.
----
"Well, of course. Dumbledore does know everything, doesn't he? He had a hunch that you'd go to Draco, that Draco would sell you to his father. He had to think of something." Snape pointed out.
"Something that helps the Order. NOT something that saves my life!"
"We all have to sacrifice. No matter. You didn't die. Continue, please."
---
The night passed with Hermione in a fitful sleep, dreaming of Draco's face (horrifying enough) descending upon her, spitting insults. Suddenly Snape swooped down upon Draco and wrenched Hermione away, taking her into his arms and--
"Hermione, you may want to wake up now." Lupin's voice drifted in from the hallway. Hermione jerked awake, keenly aware that she had just kissed Snape. It took her a few minutes to gather herself.
---
"Is kissing me really that disconcerting?" Snape wondered humorously. Hermione cast a glare at him, he withered, she continued.
---
Hermione wiled away the early morning hours in the house, eating breakfast and hoping for a pleasant day. She finally decided to go into Hogsmeade. She could do with some sweets. Hopefully Draco had the sense not to descend upon her in Hogsmeade. She dressed quickly, carefully. Making sure she didn't particularly stand out.
---
"But to me, you always stand out," Snape admitted grimly--as though this were not a compliment at all, but a rather annoying behavior that she should cease at once.
"I suppose. You managed to find me, didn't you?"
"No, I believe you found me. I distinctly remember."
"You tell it, then, if you're so smart. It's about time you took over." As if agreeing, the waiter finally appeared with their food. Hermione dug ravenously in and looked at Snape expectantly. He sighed.
"All right. I suppose I do need to tell you a few things about our, hmm, encounter."
---
Snape had felt like a little chemical assistance, and not of the potions variety. So he headed for the Three Broomsticks--to drink away his pain, he thought with a sardonic smile. 'How very apropos. I'm feeling particularly self-loathing, so why not compound the problem by imbibing large quantities of alcohol and attempting to think about my life philosophically?'
As it happened, Hermione popped in to the Three Broomsticks. Snape saw her enter, but as her existence was rather tangential to his, barely noted it. Until she appeared at his elbow, slightly flushed and whispering urgently. "Professor Snape, I need to speak to you immediately--privately," she emphasized, going so far as to take his arm and attempt to pull him up from his stool. He had sneered at her, but complied. He'd had just about enough Firewhiskey for this to seem a good idea.
She had led him to a bench on the outskirts of the main business area and roughly pulled him to a sitting position beside her. Again, the Firewhiskey prevented Snape from objecting heartily, as he would normally have done. In fact, as he looked upon Hermione's urgent countenance, he found himself feeling very different, indeed.
"Professor, I know you still spy sometimes with, you know, the Death Eaters… sorry!" she hastily said as Snape's jaw set.
"No bother, continue," he had mumbled, feeling very disoriented. What in the world was she on about?
"Well. I don't know if you know this, but I was at Malfoy's house. Looking for Harry, you know. I didn't find him, obviously, but I was thinking--well, if the Death Eaters have Harry, surely they all know about it?"
"A perfectly logical argument. Flawed only in one regard. We have no inkling of the idiot boy's whereabouts."
Hermione finally realized that Snape's behavior was perhaps a bit altered due to his visit to the pub. She attempted to catch his eye but found that he was having difficulty keeping his eyes in one spot.
"Of course you're drunk. I need you, and you're drunk." she muttered.
"Miss Granger, you know enough about the world to find Potter on your own, I'm quite sure. You don't need me."
There was a silence; Snape felt rather comfortable within it, but Hermione looked quite consternated. "What's wrong, Miss Granger? Anything I might be able to help you with?" he asked. Suddenly she turned on him.
"You should drink more often, Professor. You're almost agreeable."
"I shall never drink again," he joked. Another silence fell. Snape felt distinctly uncomfortable this time, mainly due to the way he had suddenly noticed Miss Granger's proximity. He attempted to slide away but found the bench was not really overlarge. He was rather stuck. And their thighs were touching.