A GIGANTIC, ENORMOUS, GARGANTUAN thank you goes out to my beta Noni, who still, after 7 months, agreed to continue editing my chapters. Super huggles to you!
I've kept you guys waiting for the next chapter long enough, so finally, without further ado, I introduce chapter eight....
EIGHT.propagation
Hermione ate her pumpkin pasty as she patrolled the halls of Hogwarts School. It was her night to make sure that none of the students were breaking any rules, and as evening turned to night ensure that no pupils were walking about after curfew without permission. A glance at the clock told her that it was nearing seven o'clock, and she sighed as she realized she had another five hours of patrolling to do. If there was one thing Hermione would change about her Prefect duties, it would be to shorten the time they had to spend policing the halls.
Hermione stood in the Entrance Hall, debating whether or not she could take a break. Most students were just sitting down to eat supper in the Great Hall, and those who weren't seemed to either be in the library, researching and studying for tests, or indisposed in the Hospital Wing. She tossed her head vigorously, as though trying to shake the debate out through her ears. How could she even think of skipping out on her Prefect duties? She hadn't been granted that honour by breaking rules or deserting tasks.
She was startled as the doors to the Great Hall opened and Malfoy came striding out. She frowned and looked at the clock once more. Five to seven. Supper starts at seven, Hermione thought. Why is he leaving before he's even eaten?
Draco Malfoy seemed not to notice her as he made his way quickly up the stairs and Hermione realized that he wasn't even going back to his dormitory. She raised her eyebrows slightly and made her way after him, keeping a distance so that she wouldn't be seen.
Once out of view from the Entrance Hall, Malfoy broke into a run, sprinting up the stairs. There was something mysterious going on; Hermione could feel it. She began to run after him, but not daring to match his speed for fear that her footsteps would be too loud. That proved unhelpful, however, as she lost sight of him and slowed to a walk.
To her dismay, she had no idea where he had gone. For a fleeting moment she wondered if he had an Invisibility Cloak like Harry, then dismissed that idea as she figured if he had he would have thrown it on long before now. Her ears strained for any sounds as she continued up the staircase.
She froze as the word "late" reached her ears. Looking around, she saw that she was nearing the North Tower, and tilted her head to the side, both in confusion and in an attempt to catch more of what was being said. Hermione could hear speaking, but unfortunately she was too far to make out most of the words.
The Gryffindor Prefect swallowed and tip-toed up to the Tower, pausing around the corner just outside the balcony. Her heart was pounding, knowing that what she was doing was wrong, but curiosity getting the better of her.
"It is a wonderful evening, don't you agree Draco?"
Hermione's blood ran cold as she recognized Lucius Malfoy's voice. What on earth is he doing here? she thought. And why is he here in secret?
"I didn't come here to talk about the weather with you, Father," came Malfoy's hard voice. "If that's all you wish to say, I'm leaving."
"You know full well that's not what I came here to discuss," Lucius snapped. "I don't appreciate your ungrateful attitude."
Silence followed and Hermione tried to breathe silently. Had Lucius called Draco to the North Tower to discuss his son's Death Eater initiation?
"Is... anyone else here?" Draco asked at length.
A chuckle. Then, "If by 'anyone else' you mean the Dark Lord, then no. But Crabbe is here, keeping watch. Do you see him?"
More silence. Hermione assumed that Draco had answered with a gesture.
"Why do--" Draco began, but his father cut him off harshly.
"Quiet! Someone is here."
Hermione felt the blood drain from her face. She flattened herself against the wall and held her breath. Her ears caught the sound of footsteps quietly approaching, and without a second thought, she turned and fled down the stairs, adrenaline pushing her to her fastest.
Lucius peered around the corner just in time to see a black cloak disappear down the stairs. He scowled darkly, and rounded on his son. "Didn't you check to see if anyone was following you?" he demanded.
"No," Draco said coldly. "I'm a Prefect, remember. No one should wonder about my whereabouts or question my actions if it's something as simple as walking up the stairs."
Lucius eyes darkened as his son's insolence. "Unless someone suspected you. Did you think of that?"
Draco hadn't, though he would be damned if he let his father know that. "No one suspects me. I made sure of that," he lied.
Lucius shook his head, angry. "We can't talk now. Whoever it was might be back. I will Owl you when another meeting can be arranged. Next time I expect you won't be as careless."
.
Hermione's feet didn't stop until she was back in the Entrance Hall. Five after seven. In a mere ten minutes both her suspicions and fears had been confirmed; Draco Malfoy was preparing for his Death Eater initiation.
She sat down on the stairs, caught her breath and calmed herself, forcing herself to think logically. What was to happen next? It came to her that she needed more information before any sort of action could be taken. The issue of where to get that information then arose. She decided that it wasn't the time to let Ron and Harry know. Not because she didn't trust them, but because she didn't trust others. Anyone could eavesdrop or overhear, or one of the boys could let it slip to another whom they deemed trustworthy. No, she told herself firmly. I won't tell them now.
Hermione was preoccupied for the rest of the night, and didn't even realize when her patrol shift was over. She wandered the corridors for an extra hour before pulling out of her thoughts long enough to realize the time. Then she made her way back to the Gryffindor Common Room, her mind muddled and her thoughts snowballing. The idea of making a Polyjuice potion struck her so suddenly that she came to a complete halt on the stairs leading to her dormitory. She could create the brew and turn herself into Crabbe; she knew his father was a Death Eater and assumed that he would be taking the initiation himself.
Although the solution to how to attain more information had been solved, Hermione's mind wouldn't let her sleep. Four o'clock found her in the Common Room near the fire, knitting socks for the House Elves. Her eyes were drooping but she worked quickly, almost as though she had had too much caffeine: the stimulant causing her exhaustion to go unnoticed. What a troubled mind will do to you, she thought bitterly, as she worried about how the following day's classes would proceed through her fatigue.
She examined the half-completed socks of navy blue, proud of how her knitting had progressed in skill since she had first started S.P.E.W. Then Hermione frowned, and looked closer at the socks. Of course! she thought, a smile coming to her face as she held the footwear.
Her mind was immediately put at ease, her new idea far simpler than her first. But with the calming of her thoughts came overwhelming exhaustion. Hermione fell asleep in the chair, the socks in her lap.
.
To her dismay, Hermione didn't get an opportunity to carry out her plan until Saturday. She had slept through most of Thursday and had to gather notes and get the homework from classmates. Needless to say she was up late into the night again on Thursday completing her work. Friday was the bi-weekly Prefect meeting at which Hermione made a note that Draco had not attended. No one else questioned his absence, however, as the meetings were sometimes forgotten. And so it wasn't until Saturday that Hermione was able to find time to be enlightened.
She awoke early that morning and made her way down to the school kitchens, deciding that the early morning would be the best time as none of the other students, or staff, were awake. She tickled the pear and the portrait swung open. She entered the kitchen and was surprised to see that it was deserted. It hadn't previously occurred to her that the House Elves would also be sleeping at such an hour on the weekend. She sighed, feeling annoyed. Would she truly be forced to return at a later time and risk being caught?
Hermione leaned on the kitchen counter, wondering if it would be wise to wake Dobby and bribe him for information with a previously knitted pair of yellow socks. She decided against that, knowing how she felt when she was awoken early for things that could be taken care of later. Though disappointed, Hermione thought it best to return closer to breakfast time, knowing that the Elves would be awake by then.
She turned to leave and nearly collided with someone. She looked up, surprised, and saw that Ron was standing there, confusion clearly readable on his face.
"R-Ron," she stammered. "Are you looking for food? Because if you are the House Elves don't seem to be awake yet."
"I wasn't looking for food. I was looking for you."
"For me?"
He nodded, frowning at her. "Is there something wrong, Hermione? You were up most of the night on Wednesday, slept Thursday away, and were only half there at the Prefect meeting yesterday. Now you're up early on Saturday and coming to the kitchens, of all places."
Hermione shook her head in dismissal. "I'm just preoccupied with school."
Ron looked at his friend searchingly. "You're always preoccupied with school," he pointed out, "but you're never like this. You can tell me what's wrong."
"It's nothing, Ron, honestly. I would tell you if something was wrong," but even as she said it, Hermione could feel her face colouring at the lie.
Ron nodded slowly. "Alright.... If you're sure."
"Of course I'm sure."
"Just remember that you can tell me anything." He gave her a small hug, then exited the kitchens in a hurry.
It took Hermione a moment to realize what had just ensued. Ron had admitted, without really admitting it, that he had been watching her. And not just when they were both doing the same thing in the same place, for he had known she spent Wednesday night in the Common Room. And he had admitted that he was worried about her. Then -- perhaps the most shocking thing of all -- he had hugged her.
All worry concerning Draco Malfoy, Death Eaters and Voldemort vanished and she felt her heart beat wildly. But as soon as her hope and excitement began it ended. She highly doubted that Ron Weasley liked her. Was it so wrong and unheard of for a boy to worry about a girl as a friend? For a man to hug a woman as a friend? But do friends watch friends so that they know the other's sleeping patterns? Hermione asked herself. She came up with two answers: one was no, and the other was yes, if the friend was worried. And Ron had proven he was worried.
Hermione felt her heart sink. She slipped to the floor almost as though her heart had brought her body down with it.
.
Hermione was sitting on the floor, dozing against the counter when the House Elves awoke. Dobby, knowing her best, poked her gently until she awoke.
She blinked and looked around her stupidly, forgetting for a moment where she was. She saw that she was surrounded by confused Elves, anxious to get to work. Standing on her leg she saw Dobby, his ugly face appearing even more deformed as he smiled at her.
"Good morning, Hermione Granger, ma'am. If Dobby can ask you, ma'am, why are you sleeping in the kitchens?"
It took Hermione a moment to remember the answer to that herself. She quickly explained how she had arrived early only to find everyone asleep, then said that she had decided to sit down and wait and must've dozed off.
"Winky wants to know why Hermione Granger was in the kitchens to begin with, ma'am, if she doesn't mind Winky asking, ma'am."
Hermione smiled at Winky, remembering how the House Elf had been when she had first arrived to work at Hogwarts. The Elf had come a long way. "I wish to speak with Dobby. In private, if that's okay."
"That's okay with Dobby, ma'am," Dobby replied. "Hermione Granger can go with Dobby, ma'am, to the Elves' sleeping quarters, if she doesn't mind, ma'am."
Hermione nodded. "That would be fine." She followed Dobby to the back of the kitchen, and behind her she could hear the other House Elves busy themselves with making breakfast for the castle.
Once in the Elves' dormitory, Dobby looked at Hermione confusedly. "Why does Hermione Granger wish to speak with Dobby, ma'am?"
Hermione, already feeling cramping in the low-ceilinged room, smiled grimly. "I need to know about Draco Malfoy and the Death Eaters. You used to live with the Malfoys; what can you tell me?"
She watched as Dobby's little body stiffened and froze. He was clearly hesitant, fighting with himself. He had lived so long being completely unable to speak anything ill of the Malfoys, and now although he was free to do what he wished, the conditioning had yet to wear off.
"No one will be angry with you, Dobby," Hermione assured him. "No one will know what you told me except for myself. Not even Harry."
Dobby's eyes widened even more than usual. "Hermione Granger won't even tell Harry Potter what Dobby is saying, ma'am? She won't even tell her best friend?"
"No, Dobby. It's best if Harry doesn't know."
Dobby seemed to dislike that prospect even more than the idea of telling Hermione about the Malfoy's connection with Voldemort.
Hermione pulled the yellow socks from her pocket. "You can have these if you tell me."
The House Elf grinned greedily as he snatched them from her hand and immediately proceeded to stick them on his ears. "What would Hermione Granger ask Dobby about the Malfoys, ma'am?"
"Anything you know about the Death Eaters. Maybe how Draco Malfoy feels about them, if you know."
Dobby looked thoughtful for a few moments before beginning. "Dobby knows that Lucius Malfoy is a follower of You-Know-Who, ma'am, and that if someone is sixteen or older than can apply to become a Death Eater, ma'am."
"How to they become a Death Eater?" Hermione inquired.
"Hermione Granger asks Dobby hard questions, ma'am. But Dobby thinks that the person must contact the Dark Lord or another Death Eater, ma'am, and then they will be given a task to do, ma'am." Here Dobby's face scrunched up and he appeared as though he were about to cry. He wrung his hands nervously and Hermione watched as his eyes darted back and forth from the fire at the far end of the room and her face.
She smiled at the Elf reassuringly. "You can tell me, Dobby. What kind of tasks?"
It took a moment before Dobby began speaking again, and his tone was slow and uncertain. "It is always different, ma'am," he said, his gaze dashing madly about the room. "Dobby would think, ma'am, that the Dark Lord would pick something that interests him at the time, ma'am. Dobby knows that if the task is completed, ma'am, the person gets the Dark Skull printed on their arm and they become a Death Eater, ma'am."
The words were barely out of his mouth when Dobby jumped up and bounded across the room to the fireplace. He made a movement to stick his head in.
"Dobby, don't! You don't have to hurt yourself," Hermione said, rising to a crouch to follow him. "You're not betraying anyone. You don't work for the Malfoys anymore."
Dobby turned slowly to look at her, his eyes wide. "If they knew what Dobby is telling you, ma'am, they would have his head."
Hermione smiled at him again. "They won't find out, Dobby. I promise you."
Dobby looked at her for a few minutes in silence, before finally sitting down. Hermione followed suit, then asked, "What do some of these tasks include?"
Dobby looked at the floor, muttered something about being free, then raised his head. "Dobby can't tell Hermione Granger for sure, ma'am. Dobby thinks that there would be death or pain, ma'am. Maybe the person must steal valuable information for You-Know-Who, ma'am." His voice was steady, but Hermione could see from the expression in Dobby's large eyes that he was still trying to convince himself that he could tell the Gryffindor girl about the Malfoys lifestyle.
She frowned then, liking the idea of the initiation less and less. "What about Draco Malfoy?"
"Dobby heard Lucius Malfoy talking to his Narcissa Malfoy a lot about Death Eaters, ma'am. Lucius Malfoy always planned for his son Draco Malfoy to become a Death Eater, ma'am. Dobby also heard Draco Malfoy tell his mother when he was very small, ma'am, that he didn't want to become a Death Eater because he was afraid of You-Know-Who, ma'am, but Narcissa Malfoy said that Draco Malfoy must to make his father happy, ma'am. So Dobby heard Draco Malfoy ask why he must make his father happy, ma'am, and Narcissa Malfoy said because Lucius Malfoy was a dangerous man, ma'am, and that it was fatal to disobey him when he thought so strongly about something, ma'am."
"And then...?"
Dobby didn't answer right away. It appeared that he was losing the battle of convincing himself a free Elf could speak his mind. Before she could stop him, Dobby jumped up, spun around, and stuck his hands into the coals in the fireplace. The howl of pain that followed sent shivers down Hermione's spine.
"Dobby! Dobby stop!!" she cried, and grabbed the back of his trousers, pulling him back from the flames.
Dobby looked up at her, his large eyes wet with tears, and Hermione couldn't help but think that they looked like soggy tennis balls. He waved his burned hands in the air in an attempt to cool them.
"That was unnecessary, Dobby," Hermione told him. "You didn't need to hurt yourself like that."
Dobby only nodded and wound a blanket around his hands. It was the only blanket in the entire room; Hermione assumed it was his own.
She gave him a few minutes to recollect himself, then posed her question again. "What happened after you heard Narcissa Malfoy said Lucius was dangerous?"
To Hermione's relief, Dobby replied right away, but he refused to look up at her. His attention was instead fixated on wrapping the single blanket around both of his burned hands while still giving himself enough distance between each digit to move them independently. "Draco Malfoy asked why there were still Death Eaters when the Dark Lord was gone, ma'am, and Narcissa Malfoy said that Lucius Malfoy and the others were still faithful and believed that the Dark Lord would return one day, ma'am."
He carried on without Hermione asking, but she could see, even though his head was lowered, that the conversation was upsetting him. She decided she would ask no more questions that morning. "When Draco Malfoy was older, ma'am, Dobby heard him talking to one of his friends, ma'am. He said that he didn't want to become a Death Eater, ma'am, because his father didn't really care about him and that he only wanted Draco Malfoy so that he could take Lucius Malfoy's place in the Death Eater circle when Lucius Malfoy died, ma'am. But Dobby knows that Lucius Malfoy is a powerful and intimidating man, ma'am, Dobby knows very well. He treated Dobby very badly, he did, so Dobby thinks that Draco Malfoy will be pressured into becoming a Death Eater like Lucius Malfoy, ma'am.
"Dobby thinks that if there is someone there for Draco Malfoy, ma'am, someone who cares about him and is willful enough to go against You-Know-Who, ma'am, Draco Malfoy will resist his father. Dobby knows Draco Malfoy has a girlfriend, ma'am, her name is Pansy Parkinson, but Dobby thinks that Pansy Parkinson is stupid and if Draco Malfoy becomes a Death Eater, she will too, ma'am."
Dobby raised his head then, and Hermione was surprised to see his expressive green eyes filling with tears once more. It hurt her to think that she was the cause of the small creature's anguish. She suddenly wished that she hadn't made her way to the kitchens that morning and hounded him for answers. Dobby was being forced to call upon painful memories that she was sure would rather be forgotten. Her heart went out to the Elf and she willed herself to remain strong.
"Dobby thinks... Dobby thinks that--" The House Elf took a deep breath and started again. "Dobby thinks that all Draco Malfoy needs is someone to care about him for him, ma'am, and not for what he can accomplish and become, ma'am."
Dobby looked at the ground once more, leaving Hermione to stare at the top of his head. Out of everything the House Elf had said, done, and felt, that was perhaps the most painful of it all. Hermione couldn't stop the tear that ran down her cheek.