Authors Note: Finally the last chapter is done. Thanks as always to my beta and all those of you who leave me such encouraging reviews. I am toying with the idea of an epilogue from Draco Malfoy's point of view to round the story off, but it depends on you my readers. If you would like me to write one, let me know and I'll do the honours. As you all most likely know, the disclaimer hasn't moved from the prologue.
Chapter 15
The house was quiet, only the sounds of the gurgling pipes intruded on the stillness that had descended on it like a shroud. Even the portrait of Mrs Black was silent, in itself an unusual occurrence. Outside, the sighing of the wind as it rustled through the branches of the trees was blocked out by the thick stone walls of the house. The room was dark; shadows flitted here and there giving the impression of movement where there was none.
Hermione uncurled herself from beneath the sheets of her bed and sat up. She had been lying here for the last few hours not quite asleep, but now that she was sure that the inhabitants of the house were in bed, she was able to get up. She stood up trying not to wince as her joints protested loudly at the sudden enforced activity. Glancing quickly across the room to Ginny's bed, she was relieved that its occupant didn't stir. She gazed for a moment at the still figure lying curled on her side beneath the sheets, her red hair creating a splash of colour against the crisp white of the pillow case. Hermione envied the other girl her untroubled dreams, dreams which were undisturbed by visions of wizards force-feeding her a potion before making her participate in a marriage to someone whom she hardly knew.
Turning to squint at the clock on the wall, she could make out that it was 3:30 in the morning. She had lost count of the number of hours she had been lying in bed feigning sleep so as not to have to talk to the other occupants of the house. She must have dozed off for the last time she had taken a quick peek at the clock; it had been 11:15 and Ginny had just got into bed.
Hermione winced as her empty stomach let out a growl – oh how she was hungry. By her estimations, it had been well over twenty-four hours since she had last eaten, and the effects were starting to catch up with her.
Pulling herself together, Hermione crept across to the trunk at the foot of her own bed, opened it and extracted a cotton dressing gown which she pulled on over her pyjamas. A few more moments of frantic searching unearthed her slippers, which she gratefully stepped into. She had no wish to wander round this dank old house in her bare feet. She was grateful that Mrs Weasley had had the forethought to apparate to her parent's house and pack some clothes for her earlier during the day.
Grabbing her wand from where it lay on her bedside cabinet, she stared at it for a moment in the dim light of the bedroom. Once again she was grateful, but this time to Snape who had shown more foresight than she would have given him credit for, and had retrieved her wand from Narcissa Malfoy's pocket while she had been busy embracing Hermione and Draco after the completion of the ceremony. Hermione stuffed it along with a quill and parchment into her pocket, and made her cautious way over to the door, which she pulled open. Slipping through, she made her silent way down the stairs, thankful that the shrunken heads of Kreacher's ancestors had been removed, through the eerie hall, and down the basement stairs to the kitchen.
Pushing open the door, she was relieved to see that it was empty. Crossing the high-ceilinged cold room, she pulled open the pantry door and started looking along the shelves just as her stomach gave another growl of protest. She had only a vague idea of when she had last eaten, but she was determined to fill her grumbling stomach before doing anything else. She had a lot of planning to do and an empty stomach would not help her accomplish anything.
Finally, she was seated at the table, with a piece of cold chicken and ham pie, no doubt left over from the evening's meal, plus a large mug of hot chocolate set before her. As she ate, her brain, slowly fortified by the food, began to plan and strategise. Finishing the slice of pie, Hermione frowned when her stomach clearly not satisfied, gave another loud growl. Getting up once more, she rummaged in the pantry, bringing out a loaf of bread, some cheese and butter. As she made herself a large cheese sandwich, she marvelled at her body's ability to demand food at a time like this. Soon she was back at the table munching her way through the bread and cheese, her brain working frantically now it was being supplied with energy. The kitchen clock glared down at her, displaying the message 'Too early to be up' in large red letters, but Hermione ignored it. Soon the quill she had grabbed was out and she was busily scribbling notes as she devoured the food before her.
Brushing the breadcrumbs from the front of her dressing gown, she looked down her list and smiled grimly to herself. It was the only way, she thought detachedly, rolling up the parchment and putting it into her pocket. Now all she had to do was to bide her time until Quentin paid a visit to the house. Then with any luck, she could put her plan into action. She looked round the large chilly kitchen and thought grimly to herself that this house would be one place she would be glad to see the last of. Although Grimauld Place had undergone a thorough cleaning and some fresh paint in a few rooms since the Order had made it its headquarters, it still held vestiges of the personalities and tastes of those who had lived there in the past.
The sound of the door opening behind her, made Hermione whirl round to see Mrs Weasley entering the room, in slippers and dressing gown.
"Hermione dear," the older woman greeted, as she shut the door behind her, "what are you doing up at this hour?"
Hermione stared inscrutably back at this woman, who for the last seven years of her life, had been a surrogate mother to her in the wizarding world. Now, however, she replied in a remote voice, "I wasn't aware that the kitchen was out of bounds, Mrs Weasley."
"Well, of course not dear, but…" The other woman trailed off at the look on Hermione's face. Then as though coming to a decision, she made her way over to Hermione and with a wave of her wand, replenished the chocolate in Hermione's mug. She didn't speak as she opened a cupboard and brought out a large apple pie from which she deftly cut a large slice, placing it before Hermione. Then pulling out a kitchen chair, she sat down at the table opposite the wide-eyed young woman. Leaning forward across the table she said, "I've no doubt that you are ravenously hungry."
Hermione simply nodded, her mouth too full to speak.
"It's natural," Mrs Weasley carried on quietly, "Our body's way of replenishing all the energy used during the bonding." She watched the quiet, sombre-looking young woman from across the expanse of wood separating them. How she seemed to have aged overnight; the sparkle had gone from her eyes to be replaced with something Mrs Weasley was reluctant to name.
"That explains why I'm so hungry," Hermione said dryly swallowing her mouthful of pie and looking up. With a slightly twisted smile, she went on, "I've been eating continuously for the last fifteen minutes but only now has my stomach stopped protesting."
"Yes, the hunger won't leave you until your body has recovered all its lost energy. Taking into account that the ceremony can only be performed on an empty stomach, it is no wonder you are making up for lost time," Mrs Weasley gabbled, trying not to reveal the nervousness she felt.
"Hmm," Hermione answered absentmindedly.
Mrs Weasley didn't say anything for a moment, and then evidently deciding to take the bull by the horns, she said, "Hermione, I cannot pretend to understand what you're going through right now. I remember as though it were yesterday the effect of the magic that was used to bind Arthur and me during our wedding ceremony. It was… well, it was elemental… and extremely powerful and I'll never forget the after-effects – that that was with me being a willing participant of the ceremony. I cannot even begin to imagine what it must feel like with you forced into such a ceremony. Believe me, if I'd known of the danger you were in, I would have insisted you be taken from that Manor then and there."
Hermione, stifling a mirthless laugh, shrugged. "But Mrs Weasley I wasn't taken away from the Manor," she looked at the older woman over the rim of her cup of hot chocolate. "And I was forced to go through the wedding ceremony," she put her cup down onto the table with deliberate calm, "so I suppose there's little point in rehashing the 'buts' and 'ifs' of the matter." She looked pointedly at Mrs Weasley, a harsh half-smile on her countenance. She would be damned if she was going to make this easy on any of them.
"What I'm trying to say," the other woman struggled on valiantly, "is that we're looking into ways to see how it can be undone and—"
"Mrs Weasley, you know as well as I do that the only way the ceremony can be undone is through death; or is the phrase 'for as long as they both shall live' just mere words in the ceremony?" Hermione asked coolly, draining her mug and placing it on the table before her in that deliberate manner that was beginning to worry Mrs Weasley. Hermione gave the older woman a sigh and another half-smile, "I'm sure we are both aware, Mrs Weasley, looking for 'a way it can be undone' is the Order's way of allaying their consciences."
"Would you like any more pie?" Mrs Weasley ignored Hermione's dig, determined to reason with the young woman with her mothering.
Hermione nodded and helped herself to another slice although she was not so easily distracted. "Frankly, Mrs Weasley, the only way 'it can be undone' is if I'm prepared to end my own life, which I assure you I'm not—" another mocking sigh, "—I'll just have to learn to live with the consequences of the Order's mistakes."
"Now really!" the other woman exclaimed heatedly, getting fed up with Hermione's aloofness, "There's no need to take that tone, young lady. No one knew what would happen; do you really think we would've let you stay in that place knowing what the Malfoys' plans were for you?"
Hermione didn't answer. She took a large bite of the crusty apple pie instead.
"As I said before," Mrs Weasley went on in a more gentle voice, "all that has happened has been an unfortunate—" she wanted to say 'mistake' but felt awkward naming it as such; "—it's unfortunate that what has happened has happened, Hermione. Nonetheless, all is not lost! I promise you, we'll do all in our power to rectify the situation, and Hermione, you must understand that what happened to you isn't a matter of life and death! After all, thanks be to Merlin, you're still alive and well – and surely that's all that matters? The Order did rescue you from the Malfoys in the end, so shouldn't that count for something?" A slight note of pleading had entered her voice, but Hermione still didn't look up from her plate, causing the other woman to grip the edge of the table nervously.
"I suppose that depends," she finally replied in a calm voice
"What do you mean?" Mrs Weasley asked, endeavouring to keep her voice on an even keel, "Hermione please, you're not thinking of doing anything silly now—"
"Oh no, Mrs Weasley, have no fear. I've no intentions of ending my own life – it means far too much to me," Hermione shook her head, her mocking tone making the other woman wince. "One could say that yesterday the veil was ripped from my eyes and I saw things for what they really were. If I'd had any sense, I would've realised earlier the way the wind was blowing, but no," she looked blankly ahead of her, "being the naïve innocent I was, I didn't realise it until it was too late." Shaking her head, she added with a mirthless laugh, "You could say that this unfortunate situation was all my own fault for being too trusting."
Misinterpreting Hermione's words, the older woman shook her head, "I know how you feel, my dear but really, you can't blame yourself. The Malfoys have always been rotten to the core, but they have money and charm, so it's not difficult to see how easy it would be for them to gain your trust. Although," Mrs Weasley's eyes hardened, "this time they really have gone too far! Entrapping a young girl into marriage! How they managed to arrange the ceremony so swiftly is beyond me."
Leaning back in her chair, Hermione's eyes narrowed at the other woman, anger starting to boil up within her. She marvelled at the easy way Mrs Weasley had subjugated her own conscience, and was glad of the plan that had formed in her mind. "Oh no, Mrs Weasley," Hermione said in a deceptively silky voice trying hard to keep her anger under wraps, "It isn't the Malfoys who have deceived me. On the contrary, the Malfoys are the only ones in this who acted with any honesty. At least, they never pretended to be looking out for anyone's interests other than their own. No, it was the Order who have betrayed me. And this, Mrs Weasley, is the important lesson that I have learned in the last twenty-four hours, the lesson learnt as the result of my foolish naivety. We both know, don't we, that I was the Order's bait to lure the Malfoys? Did it matter at all what my feelings were regarding my role as bait? No – my feelings in the matter be damned! What about my reservations regarding this manner of 'fact-finding'? Was it even taken into account? Not at all! What really makes me laugh is the fact that I was sacrificed, but to what purpose? The Order hasn't found out any more of Voldemort's plans through me, so it was all a waste of time!"
There was a ringing silence as Hermione finished speaking and Mrs Weasley stared across at her speechless. Hermione simply shrugged as she sat watching the older woman's expression. She knew she was beyond hurt now, anger had settled in her stomach like a stone. She dimly recognised that her anger was no longer passionate, but detached and cold. Only once before had she been anywhere near this angry, and that had been when she had caught Tom Angers, her boyfriend of the previous year, cheating on her. Then, choosing to simply smile coolly and saying nothing instead of ranting and raving, Hermione's swiftly penned letter to his parents had soon ensured payback. A week later, Tom received an unexpected howler from his mother which had shouted for the whole school to hear how he had bought shame on the family by his dishonesty in cheating on the best thing that had ever happened to him. With the howler's message still ringing in his ears, the once popular Ravenclaw soon found that people were looking at him with new eyes, and girls who had previously hung on his every word, were now giving the two-timer a wide berth. This time however, Hermione reflected, she had no recourse of parents to appeal to, nor high drama to ensure payback. Nonetheless, she would be certain to react in a way to ensure that she was protected, and if a few people got a taste of their own medicine along the way, so much the better.
"Hermione please," Mrs Weasley sighed, "I know you're feeling less than charitable right now, but you must understand that—"
Hermione, not wanting to hear anymore, pushed back her chair. Tamping down her anger, she smiled coolly at the woman opposite her and got to her feet.
"If you'll excuse me, Mrs Weasley," she said with cold politeness, "I think I'll try and get a few more hours sleep before breakfast."
"Yes… yes, of course dear," a subdued Mrs Weasley nodded getting up too.
XoXoXoXo
Shifting her position, Hermione stared out of the window of the large and dank drawing room and sighed with relief. Finally, he was here. She waited until the front door far below her had been opened and Quentin had stepped into the house before turning away. She hadn't long to wait. Soon the sound of swift footsteps could be heard on the stairs and she smiled as the drawing room door was pushed open and Quentin stepped in.
"Hermione, Ginny told me you were in here – she said you wanted a word," he said, coming into the room and closing the door.
Hermione saw with a slight pang that his eyes were shadowed with fatigue.
"Yes, thanks for coming." She smiled a real smile for the first time that day, "There's a lot I would like to discuss with you."
Quentin seated himself on one of the large sofas in the room and waited until Hermione had done the same, before pulling out his wand and waving it round the room. Hermione knew that he had performed the dome of silence – now no one could eavesdrop on their conversation.
"So how are you?" he asked in his no nonsense way.
"Bearing up," she replied, "the first shock's worn off, but Quentin," here she hesitated for a moment, and then blurted out, "I want out."
"Pardon?" he asked, raising dark brows in enquiry while making himself comfortable on the sofa.
Not knowing if he had simply not heard her or was trying to buy some time, Hermione repeated slowly and carefully, "I want out. That is, I want to leave the wizarding world."
Quentin was silent for a moment and then sighed, "I thought as much. You have endured more in the past few days than most wizards do in a lifetime – it makes sense that you want to get away from it all for a while." He ran a weary hand over his face as he spoke.
"No, Quentin you don't understand, "Hermione explained, leaning forward, "I want to get away from all this," she waved a vague hand at the room around her, "I've had more than I can take of the wizarding world and I want to get away from it all. Everything. Besides, realistically, even if I wanted them to, the Order couldn't keep me hidden forever from the likes of the Malfoys. As things have turned out, I want nothing to do with either the Order or the Malfoys from now onwards."
Quentin shook his head, the vehemence of her words finally sinking in. He said nothing for a moment, his eyes fixed on the empty fire grate while he digested Hermione's news. "I'm sure you've given this a lot of thought," he said pensively, "but Hermione, think of what you'll be giving up by leaving the wizarding world – a career for which you have worked hard, and to which you are well suited, friends—"
Hermione interrupted him with a snort, "Quentin. Honestly, we both know that my career such as it is, is now out of the question. I can never attend Stanwick – the Malfoys'll track me down in a heartbeat. And as for my so-called friends... well, I'm sorry to say that as far as I'm concerned, I no longer have many of them in the wizarding world. Those whom I once considered friends have turned out to be no more than Dumbledore's puppets!" Disgust laced her last words.
Quentin returned her level stare. "Hermione, that isn't quite true," he countered quietly. "Dumbledore and I are currently not on speaking terms for I cannot forgive him for knowingly putting you in danger like that. Having got to know you very well this past year or so, I think of you as my own. I can't forgive myself for not having done more to protect you; and I can't simply forgive those who knew what was at stake but still saw fit to let you stay on at Malfoy Manor while knowing the risks involved."
"I know you did everything in your power to protect me," Hermione gave him a conciliatory smile. "And I don't blame you for what happened. But Quentin, I need your help now! I can't leave this place by myself and you're the only person I can fully trust."
"What about Harry, Ron and Ginny? I thought they were your closest friends," Quentin frowned in puzzlement. "I'm positive they didn't know about the plan – and they would have done anything to get you out of it, I'm sure. Leaving the wizarding world would mean leaving them behind as well," he reasoned almost desperately.
Hermione looked down at her hands. "Yes… I know that, but," her brow furrowed in thought, "this is really difficult for me to explain," she sighed. "You see, when they found out about the marriage, all they could do was to tell me that it wasn't the end of the world! I tried explaining the magic used during that ceremony but they were convinced that I was blowing the whole thing out of proportion. I would've thought… I would've thought that Ron and Ginny, with their magical upbringing would have at least understood the gravity of the ceremony, but no. I was basically told to stop moaning and get on with my life," she bit her lip, hurt at her friends' reactions. "Oh they didn't say it in so many words, but the meaning behind Ron and Harry's sighs was perfectly clear. It didn't help at all that they reminded me that it was done for the Order! As if that made everything I had gone through fine and dandy! That was simply the last straw." She couldn't forget the absurd promises her friends had made when they had tried to console her; when their promises of revenge hadn't work to get her out of her agitated state, they had become frustrated and told her to "grow up and be thankful she was alive to tell the story." It did not help for Ron or Harry to recount their adventures thus far, comparing the dangers they had undergone with the relatively 'safer' fate that Hermione had endured. Ginny had tried to comfort her but she, like the others had not understood at all what Hermione had had to undergo.
Once Hermione had exhausted her tirade, Quentin spoke up. "Hermione, you must understand that the ceremony that was performed is an ancient one, and very, very rarely used nowadays. What is done though, even for traditionalists, is a… simplified form of what you had gone through… a modified ceremony, which puts far less strain on the couple than what you and Draco Malfoy went through. Needless to say," he gave her a quick smile, "having to spend a few days recuperating from one's wedding is off-putting to many who would rather spend their time on their honeymoon." Fascinated by Quentin's explanation of the wizarding traditions, Hermione nodded as Quentin continued, "The less traditional wizards have even done away with the modified ceremony altogether. Just a quick trip to the Registry office, where the ceremony is much like the muggle one. Of course, there is some wand waving to make the magical contract… erm, marriage certificate, binding, but nothing in the league of what you experienced. Elemental magic was used to bind you and Draco Malfoy together – powerful magic, that. I doubt that anyone who hasn't actually witnessed such a ceremony will ever understand the power that is involved. The only thing I'm thankful for is that Severus Snape got you away from there when he did. If he hadn't…" he shook his head, a serious look settling on his countenance.
"What would have happened?" Hermione asked, leaning forward with interest.
"The 'consummation charm' would have been activated. The spell increases the couple's desire for one and other until they finally give in; not only that, it prevents them from moving more than twenty paces from each other, until the marriage is consummated. I can only be thankful that you weren't forced to consummate the marriage – once that has taken place, the bond between the couple is sealed." He gave a chuckle, "I can almost imagine the look on Lucius Malfoy's face when he realised that you'd gone when you did."
"I don't understand," Hermione frowned, "Wasn't the ceremony enough to bind a couple for a lifetime? And wouldn't consummation be difficult to take place with the severe drain of energy?" She lifted her brows as she added, "I couldn't even move a muscle, much less walk twenty paces."
Quentin pursed his lips. "The consummation charm is the natural outcome to the ceremony – not that the other spells aren't activated during the ceremony itself; believe me, they are. Essentially, the spells activated by the main ceremony – the witnessed ceremony – are those that ensured the couple remain loyal to each other. Inherent in the many blessing spells are protection spells such that the couple always know when the other is in danger… or doing something they shouldn't." In spite of the gravity of the situation, he grinned. "I could tell you a tale or two about that… but I won't. The consummation charm… well, it's not really a charm as much as a result of the main ceremony; the couple are separated for an hour after the main ceremony so that they can recuperate from the massive magic expended, then they're placed within twenty feet of each other for the charm to activate. Consummation need not be immediate, but the desire for it starts building up from then on. And, like I said, the couple can't move twenty paces away from the other, which is not a difficult thing to circumvent, seeing as how most couples would be put into a honeymoon suite for a week and be attended by House-Elves. Once the couple's energy level is replaced… well…" he shrugged, and Hermione understood exactly what would happen.
"Anyway," Quentin added, "as I've said, very few people actually bother with the traditional ceremony nowadays. Not only does the ceremony requires so much from the participants in terms of preparation and a drain on their magical energy, there's simply a lack of time for most modern couples to consider spending a week locked up in a room – and as to the cost of getting House Elf service! Well, that is quite another wedding item to consider. And with the traditional ceremony, more expenditure in the form of ceremonial garments and a banquet for all the guests… well it isn't so surprising that your friends can't comprehend what is involved; modern weddings by comparison are much less of a hassle."
Hermione brushed that aside, and in pursuit of more understanding of the ceremony she had gone through, she asked, "Fine, whatever. But I still don't quite understand how the consummation charm works, Quentin; but now can't I get out of this union between me and Draco Malfoy? Since we didn't consummate the wedding, does this mean—?"
"No, Hermione," Quentin shook his head grimly, "it doesn't mean that the wedding did not take place, nor does it mean that the ceremony can be reversed. With consummation, other spells are activated, and the marriage is… well, the word translated from the Ancients loosely means 'perfected'."
Frustrated that even that sliver of hope was taken away, Hermione bit out, "Perfected? At this moment, I can only be thankful that I can still make an escape; go into hiding. Can't you see why I can't stay here?" She gestured at herself as she pleaded, "I can't live like this; I can't trust the Order would keep the Malfoys at bay. I can't and I won't have the Malfoys complete the ceremony and make me one of them. I won't!"
"Yes, but Hermione, leaving the wizarding world is at best a temporary solution and nothing more. I hope you're aware of this," Quentin attempted to reason.
"Look Quentin, all I want right now is to get away from here, from wizards. One day maybe when I'm feeling stronger, I'll face facts and then maybe do something about it. At the moment, I want to make my life in the muggle world," she said determinedly, "to build myself a muggle career and—"
"Never be able to enjoy the company of a man?" Quentin interrupted innocently.
"Right now, I would be happy to curse all men to kingdom come." Hermione retorted heatedly.
"Fair enough," Quentin tried but failed to stifle a smile, "By the sounds of it, your mind is made up, and nothing I can say will change it."
"No, it won't," Hermione said in relief.
He nodded and Hermione swiftly outlined her plans to him leaving nothing out.
After she had finished speaking, Quentin sat thoughtfully watching her. "You have thought of everything, have you not?" he smiled. "I don't foresee a problem in performing the Fidelius charm on you. I would be happy to be your secret-keeper, and for extra protection, will even take a wand oath that I will always ask your permission before informing someone of your whereabouts. Perhaps you might want to consider putting a Detracement charm on yourself – it will ensure that people can't perform tracking charms on you. As for the forged documents you will need," he grinned, "they won't be a problem in the least."
Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding in.
"It's unfortunate that the news about the kidnapping of the Malfoy bride is all over the Daily Prophet – the wizarding public has been notified to keep a lookout for you. No matter; we'll just have to work around that problem, agreed?"
Hermione nodded.
"Fine. I'll first need to pay a visit to your grandmother's old cottage in Somerset; Anti-apparation wards will have to be put into place and the cottage will have to be secured. Fortunately, I was party to putting some of the wards in here," he gestured vaguely at Grimauld Place, "so I'll just put most of the same ones up in your new home," he grinned. "Other than your immediate family and myself, is there anyone else you might want to keep in touch with or allow access to your cottage?"
"No," Hermione shook her head emphatically, "there isn't anyone else."
"Right then, there's plenty to do, so I must get going," he was all briskness as he got to his feet. "But first things first, Hermione; the Detracement charm. It's better if I cast the charm on you rather than you doing so yourself. And if you don't mind, I want to use your wand to cast it." Hermione got up and handed him her wand as he explained, "Thanks. It's not that I can't use my wand, but the magic given off by your wand will protect you much more effectively than with any other. Add to that a caster whose only aim is to protect you, what you get is a very powerful combination."
Quentin turned Hermione so that her back was to him and started performing a strange sequence of movements, which looked like runes to Hermione. She watched fascinated, as he circled her performing the strange runes while all the time frowning in concentration. Then he repeated the same wand movements but this time over her head. Hermione felt as though a light breeze was blowing her curls about. Quentin gestured her to lie down on the sofa facing her and once she had complied, he repeated the wand movements but this time aiming them at the soles of her feet.
Finally he was done, and panting slightly, straightened up. "Thank Merlin that's over," he said, handing her wand back. "Your wand is most certainly powerful. I suspect that it was only cooperating with me because I was putting the protection spell on you."
"Why did you draw those symbols all round me?" Hermione asked interestedly.
"They work like runes and provide a magical barrier round you that will deflect any tracking charms that people may cast on you. That's why I had to ensure that the top of your head and the very soles of your feet were included in the charm."
"Don't clothes matter?" Hermione enquired.
"No, your clothes make no difference to the spell. You can even put on a dress spelled with a tracking charm and it will be deactivated. No, essentially, the Detracement attaches to your person. So now whatever tracking spells have been put on you prior to the Detracement have been deactivated." Giving Hermione a half-smile, he asked, "Would you like to know how many tracking charms there were on your person?"
"You could tell that there were tracking charms during Detracement?" Hermione asked incredulously.
Quentin's smile grew as he appreciated his protégé's avid interest in gaining magical knowledge. "When the Detracement charm is performed, the air around the subject shimmers as the tracking charm is deactivated," he lectured with relish. "You have three tracking charms on you – and I took particular note of them since I was on the look out for them all."
"But where were the charms placed?" Hermione asked, wide-eyed.
"One was in your hair – no doubt Dumbledore's work. The second one on your back; I'm guessing that was the work of another Order member, but as to who it is, I can't say. The final one—" Quentin raised an eyebrow dramatically, "—is certainly well hidden – on the sole of your right foot. If I had to guess, I'd say that last one was the Malfoys' doing. Clever, really; nine times out of ten, people won't bother to protect the soles of their feet. Not only is placing charms there difficult, the thought of the feet as a placement for charms isn't quite there, if you know what I mean."
Hermione's brows furrowed, but she nodded.
"In this instance, I'm glad I took the precaution of warding even your soles," Quentin continued grimly. "I have also added a charm – a deflection charm – recently developed by a friend of mine. Anyone who tries to follow you will have a difficult time doing so," Quentin's eyes looked amused. "Essentially, what the charm does is to deflect the gaze on the person tailing you, so that they'll loose sight of you."
"Thanks Quentin," Hermione smiled sincerely at Quentin. For the first time that day – that week for that matter, Hermione began feeling a sense of hope and purpose taking root within her.
"Now, Hermione," Quentin gentled his look on the young witch, "I'll have to get going. There's still plenty to do before this day is out. I believe that it'll be safer if you stay here for the time being until I have sorted things out at the Somerset cottage. I will let your parents know of your plans, but I'll leave this as the final thing to do. I've little doubt that the Malfoys will pay them a visit to discover your plans; it seems little point to burden them with knowledge that will be easily obtained through veritaserum, even if they can't reveal where you are because of the Fidelius. No, we'll just have the Malfoys think that you've totally cut ties with everyone before contacting your parents again," Quentin said grimly.
"As long as the Malfoys don't hurt them," Hermione began, a note of fear in her voice.
"No," Quentin shook his head. "I doubt even the Malfoys would be that stupid. Lucius Malfoy wants to keep a low profile regarding his Death Eater activities, and getting rid of your parents certainly won't endear him with the public or the Ministry of Magic. How do you think it will look for the Malfoys' muggle in-laws to suddenly disappear along with their muggleborn bride? The suspicion will undoubtedly be cast on the Malfoys. Besides, they need your parents alive – they still need to convince you to return." Quentin now let out a mirthless laugh, "No, if anything, they'll make sure that no harm comes to your family to ensure that they remain blameless of anti-muggle sentiments."
Hermione nodded, considering what Quentin had said.
"I should be back by evening," Quentin continued, consulting his watch. "In the mean time young lady, pack everything you need. I'll check up on your parents to see if the Malfoys have made contact, and make sure that they will be prepared for any future Malfoy visits. Is there anything you need from home?" At Hermione's headshake, Quentin nodded. "Right. I'll tell your mother to pack all your clothes. Once I'm certain that all is safe, we'll make a quick stop at your parents' house."
Hermione sighed. "Thanks very much for this Quentin," she said quietly. "You don't know how much I owe you."
Quentin gave her a curt nod. "We all have different ways of dealing with trauma, Hermione. And since I was unable to prevent you going through the ceremony, helping you deal with it in your own way is the least I could do." With that, Quentin undid the dome of silence and pocketing his wand, left the room.
XoXoXoXo
"But Hermione, you've packed everything that Mum got you from your house. If you aren't going away, why do you need to pack—"
"For the last time Ron," Hermione turned to glare at him, "It's none of your business what I do, so please leave me alone!" She bent once more over the trunk in the pretence of straightening some books lying in the bottom of it.
"Hermione, we're worried about you," Harry began tentatively.
"Well, there's no need to worry Harry," she straightened herself up to address Harry, and then returned to her packing. "As you said yourself last night, I should be thankful I'm not dead and am able to recount what happened to me." Lowering the lid on the trunk, she turned to face Harry coolly.
A dark flush spread across Harry's cheeks, but Ginny, sitting on her bed watching proceedings, now spoke up. "Hermione you may not be dead, but you've suffered a lot in the past few days. We're only trying to help – after all, what are friends for?" Her voice seemed unnaturally high in the quiet room.
"Friends," Hermione flared, "respect you enough to leave you be when you ask them to do so." She now looked at all three, her impatience getting the better of her. Why couldn't they see she wanted to be left alone?
"We were only—" Ron broke off as the sound of the doorbell chimed through the house. Hermione smiled grimly as she shrunk her trunk and put it into her pocket. Then, pushing past Harry and Ron, she pulled open the door to the room she and Ginny had shared and stuck her head out. She peered over the banisters to see Quentin stepping over the threshold into the house.
Quickly, Hermione made her way down the creaking stairs and with a welcoming smile, met him in the hall.
"Ready?" Quentin asked with an answering smile.
She could only guess that this meant that all had gone according to plan.
"Where's Hermione going?" Ron, Harry and Ginny had reached them and stood behind Hermione. They were all wearing looks of worry, tinged with desperation.
"I'm taking Hermione to visit her parents," Quentin answered Harry's question. "We thought it may be good for Hermione to get away from Grimauld Place for a while."
"Oh right," Ron nodded. "Yeah sure. Hermione, if we'd known that was where you were going, we wouldn't have pestered you like that." He smiled at her in relief, but she did not respond.
"Do you want me to come with you?" Ginny stepped forward to stand beside Hermione.
Hermione, who had had more than enough of the three of them alternatively coddling her and counselling her to get over her problem, shrugged. "I really don't think there's a need, Ginny. Quentin is perfectly capable of taking care of things in case trouble comes along."
"Well, if you're sure, dear," an anxious Mrs Weasley appeared from beside the front door where she had been hovering, "I'm sure that seeing your parents for a while will do you good." She was tactful enough not to ask how long Hermione intended to stay with her parents.
"If you're ready Hermione," Quentin nodded at the rest of the group before taking her arm.
Hermione turned to face her three friends. Looking at each in turn, she said nothing as she braced herself for what she was about to do. Her eyes travelled slowly over each familiar face and she wondered with a pang when or if she would ever see them again. For a moment, she felt doubt over take her; what if she was making a serious mistake? What if she was merely jumping from the frying pan into the fire – and all without the support of her friends?
Ginny's voice, high-pitched and slightly panicky, pulled her from her concerns, "Hermione, what's really going on? Please Hermione—"
"Now calm down, Ginny," Quentin intervened smoothly, "Hermione is simply going back to live with her parents for a while, to try and put behind her what has happened."
"Living with her parents for a while?" Ron questioned, "I mean no disrespect, Hermione, but I don't think your muggle parents would understand what's happened. They won't be able to appreciate why a wizarding marriage is such a big deal – and I don't think they'll be able to do anything about your situation."
"And you do Ron?" Hermione bit out, eyes narrowed, all doubt as to what she was going to do vanishing in an instant.
"Of course," he nodded earnestly. "I mean, naturally, getting married to a slime bag like Malfoy can't be counted as a high point in your life, but I'm sure Tonks and Lupin will be able to find out how to annul it. Besides, you'll be well protected from that slimy creep if you remain here – Grimauld Place's unplottable!" he stated the obvious.
Quickly forestalling Hermione's remarks, Quentin interrupted; "It's only a quick visit. I'm sure Hermione will be quite safe at her parents – I've been there to ward the house."
Not giving Harry, Ginny or Ron another chance to object or even to say goodbye, Quentin pulled open the front door and led Hermione down the front steps of the house.
"Here," he said, as they stepped on to the pavement. He threw a silvery invisibility cloak over Hermione, "We can't be too careful."
Taking the arm Hermione gave him, he guided her over the rough uneven paving stones across the square until they had reached the opening of a dark alley way.
"Ready?" he asked. At Hermione's verbal agreement, he continued, "I think tandem apparition will be easier; I can't see you, and if we got lost at our end point… well, it's better to avoid that, then." Sliding his hand up to Hermione's shoulders, he Apparated them to appear a second later behind the hedge running along the bottom of the Grangers' garden.
"I hate tandem apparition," Hermione muttered, stumbling as she regained her balance," I've done it once before with—" but here she trailed off, not wanting to complete the thought.
Quentin said nothing as he took her arm once more. They walked in silence around the hedge bordering the Grangers' back garden and around the side of the house.
"The cover story is already in place." Quentin finally broke the silence as they emerged on to the Grangers' drive. "I know it will be difficult, but try and look convincing." He spoke so quietly that Hermione standing beside him was barely able to hear him.
"Right," she said nervously.
They walked up the path to the front door and stood back once Quentin had knocked.
A moment later, the door was pulled open by Peter Granger who smiled on seeing his visitor.
"Ah Quentin, come in. I thought Hermione—"
"If I may," Quentin said, shunting the other man aside and pushing Hermione into the house, before stepping in himself and closing the door. "Hermione is with me, but it wasn't safe to draw attention to her outside the house, where anyone could be watching."
"But…Hermione?" Peter broke off as his daughter, flinging off the invisibility cloak, seemed to materialise from thin air.
She threw herself into her father's arms and hugged him, delighting in the comfort of his familiar presence.
"Hermione!" Lyn cried, coming into the hall and pulling her daughter into a tight hug. "We were worried! That sketchy note you sent the other night wasn't exactly enlightening," she reproved gently, looking into her daughter's pinched face and frowning.
"I'm sorry Mum," Hermione mumbled, wondering what note her mother was talking about. She would have to ask Quentin about it.
"We haven't much time," Quentin said. "Shall we go into the sitting room?"
Soon, Hermione was seated on the comfortable sitting room sofa, a large plate of cakes sitting before her, a mug of hot chocolate steaming beside it. Quentin and her parents were watching her as she leaned forward to help herself to a slice of cake. Mathew sat with the invisibility cloak draped over his lap examining it in fascination.
"So what is this about you changing your career plans, Hermione?" her mother ventured. "I must admit that when Quentin informed us that you had decided to rejoin our world completely, your father and I were very taken aback. We thought you loved the wizarding world and wanted to pursue a career there – why the sudden change of heart?" Lyn's face scrunched up in thought, as she looked into her daughter's pale face.
"Actually, Mum, I've been mulling over it for a while now," Hermione replied evasively. "Honestly, the wizarding world isn't all it's cut out to be. I think… I think before I make such a major decision about a career there, that it would be better if I tried living in the muggle world for a while – at least by doing so, I'll be making an informed decision, right Mum? Besides, I've always wanted to try a career in teaching, and it's one of those careers that has very limited openings in the wizarding world, right Quentin?"
The solemn wizard corroborated Hermione's sentiments with a nod.
"But Hermione," Peter shook his head, frowning, "you don't have any paper qualifications to teach. I mean, to be accepted onto a PGCE course for example, you'd need at least a degree and three A-Levels and I don't see—"
"Ah Peter, that is where a wand helps matters," Quentin gave him a half-smile. "We have all the relevant certificates to prove that after her primary school, Hermione has been home-schooled. She's taken her GCSE's as a private candidate, as well as her 'A'-Levels in the same manner. You'd be please to note that Hermione's taken A-Levels English Literature, English Language, Biology and Geography, and has scored A on all subjects," he grinned. "Naturally," he added ironically, "we expect nothing less from Hermione."
"But if Hermione were home-schooled, I doubt any school would hire her to teach," Lyn objected.
Giving Lyn an enigmatic smile, Quentin replied, "I've considered that. Hermione's resume will include a teaching stint at Godolphin and Latymer School—"
"Godolphin and Latymer?" Lyn interrupted, "But that's where we were planning to send Hermione before we found out about Hogwarts!"
"'Go and Let' kids are all hoity-toity ponces in their hoity-toity uniforms!" Mathew piped up sneering. "You should see Tom's sister; she's like some kind of princess-high-and-mighty; too good to hang out with the rest of us in the neighbourhood." He let out a snort of disgust to emphasise his words.
"That's quite enough Mathew," his mother shot him a reproving look, but Hermione simply shook her head, smiling at her brother. It was nice to know that some things didn't change. "But how is that possible?" Lyn asked Quentin, bringing the discussion back to Quentin's earlier remarks.
"It so happens that I have friends connected to the school. One of them happens to be the school administrator, and another one sits on the Board of Governors. My administrator friend is willing to provide references for Hermione," Quentin gestured to Hermione. "I think that with Godolphin and Latymer's references and Hermione's brilliant A-Level results, most private schools would be clamouring to take her in as a staff member even without a degree. Of course, as an unqualified teacher, the school will want to put her on the Teacher Training Agency's 'Registered Teacher Programme'. It's perfect, of course, as Hermione will have the opportunity to both teach as well as work towards a degree. The programme usually takes two years, but with Hermione's calibre, I won't be surprise if she completes the programme at its minimum of one year," he smiled at the young witch with pride.
Peter frowned, clearly unconvinced. "But there has to be a reason for this sudden change of life plans," he persisted, "Something must have happened for Hermione's change of heart. No," he said, turning to his daughter, "it's not like you to deviate from your plans. I mean, one minute you were all set to start at that wizarding Medical school, and just as you were about to begin classes there, you've done a complete 180 degree turn and want to rejoin the muggle world to become a teacher! It simply doesn't make any logical sense."
Hermione lowered her head and chewed her lower lip.
"Peter," Quentin sighed as he drew Peter's attention away from his daughter, "I think we owe it to you to explain why Hermione has decided on this path. You are quite right in that this is not exactly what Hermione wants." Quentin hesitated, looking at Hermione, who nodded at his unspoken request for permission to speak freely. With another sigh, he continued, "The situation in the wizarding world—" Again, he hesitated, choosing his words carefully, "—At the moment, Peter, the climate is… difficult… for witches of non-magical descent like Hermione." He paused here, letting the Grangers decipher his cryptic phrasing. "For Hermione's safety, she has decided to totally remove herself from the wizarding world."
Immediately, the Grangers' expressions cleared, only to be replaced with looks of alarm. Both parents were well aware of the prejudiced attitudes of some of Hermione's contemporaries at school, and were perfectly capable of putting two and two together. So, these antiquated attitudes must have escalated to the point that Hermione had to flee from the magical world she fell in love with, to return to living her life without magic – all for the sake of safety!
"You need say no more," Lyn said firmly. "I was afraid that it would come to that. Yes, I agree – best all round if you make your career in the non-magical world Hermione. It's certainly much safer for you here." All business-like now, Lyn took over the discussion with the brisk no-nonsense logic that she employed in expanding her dentistry practice with her husband. "Hermione, Quentin mentioned something about your moving into Grandma Katharine's old cottage. Well, the cottage's a bit run down, but a lick of paint and some care will soon restore it to rights again."
"This cloak thingy," Mathew interrupted, "Can I keep it? It'd be cool to show it off to the boys at school and—"
"No!" Hermione said sharply. "Invisibility cloaks are very rare and valuable. Besides, you know you can't—"
"Yeah, yeah, I know, I know… I can't go around telling people about the magical world," Mathew grumbled. "I was only asking, all right? No need to get your knickers into a twist – blimey!" He huffed, stroking loving fingers over the silvery material of the cloak.
"There's one more thing," Quentin said, looking at the Grangers seated opposite him. "It is possible that wizards, namely Hermione's old friends will approach you to ask what has happened to her, just like the people the Malfoys sent earlier. On no account must you reveal that you are in contact with her. The less people know of her whereabouts, the safer it is for her."
The Grangers looked as though they may interrupt but both thought better of it and simply nodded. Quentin knew that they were aware of Voldemort's existence. It was probably this rather than anything else which ensured their acceptance of the change of plan.
"I still don't like it," Peter muttered, "but it if it means keeping Hermione safe then so be it."
Hermione smiled at him in relief. At least she would not lose contact with her parents. She knew that their support in the upcoming weeks would be crucial to her. The conversation carried on and although Hermione's parents were suspicious as to her motives for wanting to leave the wizarding world so suddenly, neither made any more objections, although the glint in her mother's eyes told her plainer than any word that the moment Lyn got her alone, she would drag the story out of Hermione.
Hermione looked round the large sitting room with its wide screen television and DVD recorder sitting in one corner. A pair of leather sofas sat on each side of the room; the last wall of which contained French windows leading out onto the patio. She smiled, for she had very happy memories of this house and wondered when she could see it again. No doubt it wouldn't be for a while yet.
ZoZoZoZo
"So here we are," Quentin shrugged, his eyes taking in the room in which they stood.
The two of them had departed from Hermione's house with the Grangers promises to visit soon ringing in their ears. Much to Hermione's displeasure, they had tandem Apparated here.
Hermione looked round the small but cosy sitting room and smiled. The cottage was small but quaint in its beauty. A sitting room, kitchen and dining room downstairs, and two bedrooms plus bathroom upstairs meant she would have ample room. The cottage's back garden was rather overgrown, but she was looking forward to taming the rampaging weeds and coaxing the garden back to its former glory.
"Your neighbours are mostly quite old," Quentin said. "I had a look round earlier."
"Oh I don't mind that," Hermione said, smiling slightly. "I don't particularly want much company at the moment. I need to pull myself together before I do anything else, and this seems like just the place. Away from memories and things."
There was a pause in which Hermione moved restlessly round the room looking at the furniture.
"Hermione, there are a few things I need to warn you about," Quentin said earnestly after a moment. "You are well hidden here and it is unlikely anyone will think of looking for you in this little niche of the country. However, there are spells that if activated, will override the secrecy charms as well as the Fidelius charm and bring your husband to you before you can even blink."
Hermione stared at him in puzzlement. " Spells?" she echoed, "What spells?" She turned to face him, putting down the picture she had been examining.
"Remember what I told you about how you are now magically bound in marriage?"
Hermione tilted her head, to which Quentin elaborated. "I did tell you, didn't I, about the protection spells inherent in the blessings spells used in the elemental ceremony? If you should be in mortal danger, your spouse would be immediately summoned. So you must take care of yourself, Hermione."
"Well, seeing as the only time I'd be in mortal danger would be when I'm with the Malfoys, I doubt that that spell would be so easily triggered," Hermione rolled her eyes, lightening the serious tone Quentin used.
"There is another thing," Quentin began, but hesitated. "Well, er… that is… Remember what I said about the ceremony binding the couple in loyalty? Err… well," he took a deep breath and continued, wishing to get this unpleasant but essential news over with, "Your spouse might be summoned if you…err… are unfaithful to him."
"What?" Hermione asked but wasn't surprised at this news. Then another thought reared its unwelcome head and in shock she asked, "You mean, I'll be summoned if he's being unfaithful to me as well?"
"Well, it works both ways."
"So why bother with the Fidelius? I thought the charm protected against all that!" Hermione frowned.
"Well, elemental magic is such that wizards cannot tamper with it," Quentin pursed his lips. "Not that wizards haven't tried – more fools they," his lips curled in amusement.
"So all Draco Malfoy need do is to get into bed with some bimbo and I'm there in the room with him?" Hermione was seriously upset. She could just imagine him doing something like that in order to activate the charm.
"Well, you don't have to obey the summon if you don't wish to. You'll find that the summons can be uncomfortable if ignored, but you'll also learn to recognise the degree to which you are called. Now, I don't know about you, but you're the one in hiding. I suppose you'll be ignoring all that young Malfoy will be up to?" He grinned again, "Believe me, he will try it. I don't know the boy but from what I've heard of him, he is certainly persistent."
Hermione nodded with an eye roll, "Of course. Anyway trust me, I have no intention of sleeping with anyone! He'll just be wating for a summons I bet. The very idea of him popping in would cool any ardour I might have," she gave an unladylike snort.
"One more thing,"Quentin cautioned the young woman who was throwing open the windows of the cottage to air the room. "It is best to keep your wand use to an absolute minimum." Pulling out a wand from his pocket, he handed it to her. "This one's unregistered, so can't be as easily traced. Nonetheless, any magic done will leave a trace, so use this sparingly. If all possible, never use your own wand again. It's linked to the Ministry and far too easily traced."
"I really don't intend to use any magic here," Hermione gave a slightly twisted smile. "This," she held up the unregistered wand, "I'll only use in emergency situations. As for my old wand, I'll put it away somewhere safe. But Quentin, about my parents…I know you told them not to reveal my whereabouts," she worried her lower lip, "but you did say that veritaserum would get it out of them!"
"I have anticipated that, Hermione," he smiled. "I modified their memories – not quite obliviate, but have planted a memory that remembers you being in India, in there minds. Your last meeting with them, they remember of course, and so too, will they remember you meeting them even after this. It's just your whereabouts – this cottage – that they have no memory of. I had to do it, Hermione, to protect them against occulumency. They'll just say 'Hermione's in India. We don't know where exactly. She comes and goes on her own schedules.' Their mind's eye would see a map of the sub-continent where they ought to be seeing this cottage."
"But how would that protect my family?" Hermione sighed.
"Don't you get it, child?" Quentin's eyes lit up in amusement. "Try imagining the Malfoys or Dumbledore using that as a lead to pick through the length and breadth of Calcutta to look for you! No, it'll waste too much time and effort – not to mention the climate and time zone differences they would have to factor in! Besides, it gives both parties impetus to keep your family in good health just hoping to catch you when you do come back."
Hermione's smile grew. "But I won't meet my family at home, would I? I'd meet them on my terms with the use of the invisibility cloak."
"Of course," the older man chuckled, knowing that Hermione was on her way to regaining a sense of herself in her fight to preserve her own.
"Are you ready with your letters?" Quentin asked, once the levity died down.
"Oh yes," Hermione rummaged around in her pocket and pulled out five envelopes. "These are to Ron," she flipped over the top envelope to show Ron's name written neatly on the front, "Harry, Ginny, Mrs Weasley, and Dumbledore. I have already owled Stanwick."
Quentin nodded. He said nothing for a moment but surveyed her. "Hermione, I know things might seem uncomfortable now, but time is a great healer," he said, laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "The pain will fade eventually, and hopefully you'll be able to try and put all that has happened behind you and make a new life for yourself. I'm not saying this is a permanent arrangement, for we both know it can not be that, but it will give you time to find your feet again."
Giving Quentin a wry smile at his speech, Hermione nodded, "Thanks for understanding that I need this time to regain my sanity. I would've gone mad otherwise."
"If there is anything else you need, let me know," he looked down at her, unwilling to leave her alone to begin on this lonely path which would take her away from all she knew.
"You'd better go," Hermione said gently. "I can never forget how much you've done to help me."
"It was nothing," he replied gruffly. Turning away, Quentin prepared to depart. He couldn't speak as he hugged Hermione's too-thin frame before stepping over the threshold into the street.
Quentin did not stop her as she closed the door on him. Instead, he simply stared at the peeling paint of the door, wondering what was going to befall this remarkable girl, who in order to gain a measure of freedom, had broken away from the life she knew and loved, to embark on a journey that would take her he knew not where. He was glad though, that he would be able to keep an eye on her. Given time, Hermione would learn to live with what had happened to her, and hopefully, one day would return to the magical world and her rightful place in it.
Turning away from the cottage with a heavy heart, Quentin trudged down the street. Reaching the corner, he Disapparated, leaving Hermione alone in her new house to begin her life as a muggle.