To Professor Severus Snape
Potions Master
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Severus,
I was wondering if you could help me in locating a few texts that would cover the theory and history of Katherine's Potion. I had attempted to obtain them through the usual channels I've used when buying books for Hermione on her birthday and holidays, but as they are apparently considered 'Dark Magic' the owners of the shops have been unwilling to forward the information.
Cordially,
John Granger
To John Marcus Granger, D.D.S.
327 Rosewood Lane
London
John,
I'm not surprised that the shop keepers are balking at your request. However, even if they were less fearful, I doubt they would even know where to look for such volumes. Approaching the shops in Knockturn Alley, however, would raise unneeded suspicion. Instead, I am enclosing three texts from my private stores. Being a Wiggentree, I am certain you'd rather cut off your own hands rather than deface a book, so I feel comfortable in opening my private library to you. Please do not hesitate to contact me if you have need of any further reference materials.
Cordially,
Severus
~***~
Hermione had managed to avoid further advances by Draco for the rest of the Yule Ball. With so many students watching, the Head Boy and Girl had to set an example. Professor Snape's potion helped a great deal and managed to keep her from attacking some poor boy on the middle of the dance floor. She didn't want to imagine the shock on Professor McGonagall's face had she suddenly thrown some dance partner down and proceeded to force herself on him. It helped further that, the day after the Yule Ball, Lucius Malfoy had called his son home for the remainder of the holidays. Several other students from Pure Blood families, all of whom had close relations under suspicion for being supporters of Voldemort, were also called home. The Headmaster had no choice but to allow them to go, against his better wishes.
However, before he had left the school Draco had managed to arrange for a package to be delivered along with the rest of Hermione's presents. It had been obvious which one was from him. It had been professionally gift wrapped from a well-known and hideously expensive jewelry store in the Magical Market of Paris. She had never been so thankful that the Head Girl had her own, private room. She wouldn't have wanted to explain the package to Lavender or Parvati. She hadn't opened it right away, either, but rather hid it underneath her pillow when Ron, Harry and Ginny had knocked on her door. It wasn't until they had exchanged their own gifts, joined the remainder of the students for the Christmas Afternoon Tea and enjoyed an expertly prepared dinner that she dared unwrap the gift in privacy.
The silver and green wrappings had revealed a black velvet box about three inches wide and six inches long. Her throat had gone very dry just before she opened it, and once she had, she had almost dropped it in shock. Glittering back up at her was an exquisite bracelet of diamonds and rubies set in platinum. It was so beautiful that she had forgotten to breathe for a few moments after laying eyes upon it. Though never one to let her head be turned by gifts, even she was enough of a woman to admit that presents such as this could turn a girl's head. She had closed the box and tucked it into the safety of her dresser drawer, resolute in her decision to return it to Draco personally and explain why she could not accept such a gift.
Her decision to do so, however, was halted by his behavior after he had returned from the holidays. There had been a sadness about him that she had never seen before. Often she had caught him watching her with an almost heartbroken expression. He looked very much like a child who had just had his favorite toy taken from him, or a puppy who had been kicked for a reason he could not fathom. She just didn't have the heart to hurt him further by returning what he had doubtless thought was a thoughtful gift. Not after seeing him like that.
Ginny was still giggly over the party at the Wiggentree estate. She tended to recall parts of it in great detail and sometimes hinted at what a fine catch her brother Bill was. Harry and Ron thought that Mr. Zabini's advice that she avoid his son was quite funny and decided that Mrs. Zabini must have been the Slytherin in the family, for her husband was obviously a Ravenclaw. Ron teased her mercilessly about Old Man Diggle's pawing, so much so that she was forced to stoop to his level and ask him if he's spoken to his girlfriend, Millicent, recently. Ginny had laughed so hard at that her skin had almost been the exact same shade of red as her hair. When they were alone, Ginny had blushingly admitted that the lovely little diamond pendant she was now wearing had been a gift from Harry, but she kept it hidden under her clothing while at home so that Fred and George didn't torment her about it.
"He gave me a new writing set in front of the rest of the family. He was too shy to get me the necklace when they were all watching. I think he was afraid that he might make them feel uncomfortable, giving me something so expensive with them all goggling at us. He's rather sensitive about it." Ginny was lying on her stomach across Hermione's bed, feet in the air. Harry and Ron were at a meeting of the Quidditch team, discussing tactics only since the snow was still too thick for practice.
"He always has been. He once told me that he'd gladly split his entire vault with your family if he could. He considers you all as family." Ginny's face blushed scarlet. "What is it?"
"Oh, just something we spoke about over the holidays, Harry and me, I mean. He… he said that he's going to get a place of his own after graduation and that when I graduate he… he wants to ask my mum and dad if we can get married."
Hermione blinked and carefully set down her quill so she didn't muss up her Potions essay. "Did he really?" Ginny nodded, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh Ginny! That's wonderful!" She got up from her chair and flopped onto the bed next to the younger girl, hugging her tightly. "I'm so happy for you!"
Ginny hugged her back just as tightly. "Thanks. I just about cried when he said that. I think he was afraid I didn't want to."
"Well that's the silliest assumption he's ever made. I hope you set him straight."
Ginny giggled and nodded her head. "I did. I think I may have frightened him. I all but attacked him." Her blush deepened further.
"So? You are his girlfriend, aren't you? Although, I will admit that I don't understand this fetish for redheads the Potter men seem to have." She was rewarded for that quip by a sharp fist in the arm. Both girls fell into giggles, rolling about on the double bed. The portrait door swung open to allow Ginny's fiancé and brother entrance. "Hey! Don't you know you're supposed to knock when you enter a lady's room?"
"When you're a lady, we'll knock." Both boys gave a flying leap onto the bed as well, Harry next to Ginny, Ron next to Hermione. Ron managed to fend off a blow from Hermione at the joking insult. "Just kidding, we know you're a lady. But honestly, it's just you. And it's not like the two of you were playing strip snap or anything."
"Now that would have been something to see."
"Ugh! Harry! I don't want to see my little sister naked, and I'd rather you didn't either."
Ginny blushed, but snuggled closer to Harry. Ron made pretend gagging noises against Hermione's shoulder. "Ron, if you want Harry to be your brother one day, you'll have to get used to the idea that he'll be sleeping with your sister."
"Well, just as long as they get their own place so I don't have to hear them going at it, I'll be fine." Ron grinned at Hermione. "So, get any letters from your admirers?"
"Shut up."
"Mum and Ginny think that you ought to give Bill some serious thought, but I'd just as soon you didn't. He's almost as brainy as you are, and I don't think that the wizarding world could stomach any children the two of you made together."
"I'm not going to marry your brother Bill."
"Why not?" Ginny looked up from mid-kiss with Harry. "Bill's wonderful. Brains and good looks all in one package… and he's got a great sense of humor."
"When we went back home for Christmas after the ball, Mum was riding him about how he should've trimmed his hair before the dance at the manor. Then she started dropping really blatant hints that he should send you flowers or something. It's part of her master plan, see. She wants you and Harry in the family so she'll be able to run your lives, too. Probably thinks that you can't take care of yourselves."
"Well, at least her heart is in the right place." Hermione started feeling around Ron's robes, making him squirm.
"What are you doing?"
"Looking for chocolate," she answered matter-of-factly. With a triumphant grin she plunged her hand into one of his pockets and pulled out a chocolate frog. With a smile, she opened it, caught it and handed the card to him while she bit into the enchanted sweet.
"Typical. After me for my chocolate."
"It's the only thing you're good for."
"Heartless woman." He gave her a playful nudge. "That's going to spoil your dinner, you know."
"How far is dinner?" Harry asked, breaking free from a kiss. Ginny scowled up at him, as though insulted his stomach might come before her.
"In about twenty minutes. That's why we came up here, remember?"
"Oh yeah," he grinned down at his girlfriend with her mulish expression, "We were coming to fetch the two of you. Come on, let's go." He slid off the bed, grabbing Ginny's hand as he did so. He pulled up her and started dragging her to the door.
"Want me to carry you to the Great Hall over my shoulder?" Ron grinned at Hermione, waggling his ginger eyebrows.
"No, I think I'll pass." She gave him a quick tickle before scrambling out of his way and hurrying towards the door. She took off down the hallway at a run, Ron shouting something about what a bad example she was setting behind her.
~***~
Draco liked this little spot. It was just barely large enough for two people, if those people were very affectionate and didn't mind being pressed together with little room to move. It was a perfect place for a single person to sit and go unnoticed. He had found it in his first year when he had needed a place to go and get away from those sycophantic goons of his. He sat there now, his head in his hands, his fingers gripped in his pale blond hair.
What did he do now? Did he confront her with what he knew and offer his shoulder to cry on? Did he rat out her secret to her friends, whom he seriously doubted had the slightest clue about it? Or should he just run to the top of the Astronomy Tower and scream out against the injustice of it all?
His granddaughter! The Dark Lord's granddaughter! No wonder his father was all hot and bothered about what he saw as a too-slow pace of seduction. Lucius Malfoy was probably salivating over the prospect of having such a strong tie to his master as marrying his son to Hermione would bring him. Draco's head had been pounding ever since his father had taken him with him to the little 'meeting' at the Grangers' residence.
He could still see the entire event in his mind. He could see Hermione's father, his shoulders rigid as he faced the man who claimed him as his son. He remembered how her mother hand hidden her face against her husband's shoulders, offering him her support. Was that what a real couple looked like? Were the photographs of three people with warm smiles on their faces what a real family looked like? Though he never would have admitted it to anyone other than himself, he had always envied Ron Weasley. His family may be poor in gold, but they were so rich in other ways. Arthur Weasley stood by his convictions and wore his heart on his sleeve. He and his wife would likely eat the lowliest cuts of everything and wear the meanest rags for months on end to make sure that their children had all that they needed. Though Ron wore robes that were likely passed down to him from at least two of his older brothers, he always had what he needed and the love of a large family behind him.
Love that was the one thing Draco never had in abundance. His mother tried her best, but it was difficult with a git like Lucius Malfoy as your husband. The master of the house didn't encourage signs of affection and caring. Narcissa was expected to be a cold, untouchable beauty, and she had learned the skill well as long as her husband was there to criticize. When Lucius was gone, and he was often out of the home under the pretense of business, she allowed herself to be somewhat more like an affectionate woman. When she felt it was safe to risk it, she would shower her son with kindness.
Narcissa's idea of showing love was buying expensive presents, and it hadn't been until coming to Hogwarts that Draco had learned that there were other ways for parents to bond with their children. Pansy's mother loved to work with clay, and had passed that love to her daughter, indulging in large masterpieces that took four hands to complete in a summer during the holidays. Goyle's love of food came from all the times he spent in the kitchen alongside his father, who had a secret fondness for cooking that he hid from even his lifelong friend Mr. Crabbe. Terry Boot of Ravenclaw collected stamps with his own father and Ernie McMillan of Hufflepuff had mastered the piano so that he could play accompaniment to his mother's flute. He wondered what little past time Hermione shared with her own mother and father. After seeing her family's home, he could easily imagine that they probably selected some literary masterpiece each summer and took turns reading it aloud in the cozy atmosphere of their den.
From his little hiding place behind the large statue of Lady Rachael of Galonondale, a rather odd mix of sorceress and warrior who lived during the Burning Times, he heard footsteps echoing through the hall, coming closer. Lowered and excited voices drifted on the chilled January air. "I can't believe it. Not Hermione Granger! She's… well… she's Hermione."
"I know. I told Mum she's off her rocker, but she's an editor. She sees all the stories that deal with Society and such before they're put to press. She swears that's what Rita Skeeter put in the article."
Draco tilted his head against the cold stone of the alcove, hidden in the shadows of the statue but able to see through a gap between Lady Rachael's cloak and the wall. Two girls were walking through the hall. One was some chit he didn't know wearing Hufflepuff colors, the other was Juliet Norquist from Ravenclaw. He knew that Juliet's mother worked for The Daily Prophet and was bane of many Society matrons. Her turn of phrase could make or break a reputation. He felt his blood turn cold.
The Hufflepuff girl started shaking her head just before they passed out of sight. "But this is Hermione Granger! She's one of Harry Potter's dearest friends! Professor Dumbledore wouldn't let her be that close to Harry if she had anything to do with You-Know-Who."
"She's probably using some kind of Dark Magic to hide her true self. You know how brainy she is."
The girls were now out of earshot, their gossiping become too soft to hear over the pounding of his heart in his ears. Draco swallowed the giant lump now lodged in his throat and sat there in muted shock for an extended moment before bolting from his hiding place. Breakfast had begun about half an hour earlier, and after obsessively watching Hermione over the past six years, he knew she would be at the Gryffindor table with Potter and Weasley. He could claim some bit of Head Student business and pull her away, take her someplace quiet where he could warn her and give her a chance to prepare for the onslaught, if he could just manage to beat the morning mail.
It's an odd truth, but time really does seem to stretch out when you need it to move faster and hallways do seem to grow longer when you're trying to run through them. It appeared as though the very castle itself was plotting to keep him from reaching the Great Hall in time. Twice a staircase shifted while he was running down it, forcing him to take a different route. He plowed through a gaggle of first years, shoving them roughly aside when they blocked his path. Peeves, seeing that Draco was in a hurry, decided to amuse himself by toppling suits of armour into his path.
He finally made it to the Great Hall, skidding to a stop and pausing a moment to smooth his pale hair before entering. It might raise suspicions if he made an appearance looking like he had just run the entire length of the Quidditch Pitch a dozen times. He tried to will his heartbeat to stop pounding in his ears, but even over the rapid thumping, he heard the cold, unsettling sound of hundreds of voices whispering excitedly. Draco felt as though the bottom dropped out of his stomach, but he forced himself to walk towards the open doors of the Great Hall and step inside.
The Daily Prophet had already arrived, and the students were already discussing what was no doubt the front page story. His eyes quickly sought out Hermione, locating her at the Gryffindor table where she sat across from Harry and Ron, staring down at her own paper. Her skin was very pale, paler than Snape's, even paler than the school ghosts. She looked somehow diminished, as though she wanted to shrink into nothingness. Potter was talking to her, but she wasn't responding. Draco watched as he reached across the table and pulled the paper out of her hands, turning it around so he could see it.
Don't read it, Potter. He saw Weasley's head lean over to examine the article with Potter. Hermione was staring down at the table, as though she still held the paper in her hands. Draco tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he watched her two best friends look up from the paper. They must have said something to her, because she suddenly looked up at them, then looked around the Great Hall. The other students were looking at her while whispering to one another from behind their hands. She whipped her head back around to look at her friends, and Draco could see that their mouths were moving, probably asking her to deny what was written on the page. She looked as though she were going to break down into tears as her shoulders began to shake. And then, Hermione did something very unlike a Gryffindor.
She ran.
~***~
Harry and Ron looked at the now empty place where their best friend had been sitting just a few moments ago. She hadn't even thought to grab her book satchel. Harry noticed this right away, his mind forming the thought that she'd be very cross with herself if she misplaced her book satchel.
"Harry? It can't be true… can it?" Harry turned his head to look at Ron. The taller boy had gone a rather odd shade of green, which made his freckles stand out even more. "I mean, this is Hermione. There's not an evil bone in her body. There's no way she could be related to… to Him, is there?"
Related to him? Related to Voldemort? Their Hermione? It didn't seem possible, and they knew from experience that Rita Skeeter wasn't above printing lies.
But her face, Hermione's face. The look in her eyes when she had seen that story, as though she knew that particular bit of venom all too well, but was still shocked to see it in black on white. That horrified, pained expression as she realized that everyone was talking about her, that all the whispers were about her. That mournful, sorrow-filled look in her eyes as though her whole world was crashing down about her.
Harry leapt up and knocked aside a jug of milk, sending it splashing over Dean Thomas' copy of the paper. Dean hardly noticed, he was still in shock. Lavender and Pavarti looked up in surprise, watching Harry grab Hermione's bulging book satchel and drag it across the table towards him as he climbed off the long bench that served as seating for the students. "Come on, Ron. We've got to find her." He slung the satchel of his shoulder, grabbed his own bag with his other than, and ran between the tables towards the door.
They went to the library first, since that was easily Hermione's favorite place. Unfortunately, she wasn't there. Nor was she in Professor McGonagall's classroom, and when they tried the office they found Professor McGonagall who asked them what was wrong. Ron, who hadn't spoken a word since leaving the Great Hall, offered her the newspaper with a shaking hand. The Transfiguration teacher scanned the article, her face going white.
"Has Miss Granger seen this?"
Ron nodded, still unable to speak. Harry had to talk for both of them. "Yes, Professor. She got upset and ran out. We're looking for her."
"Good, keep looking then." She rolled up the paper in her hands, and Harry noted that her expression was one of mixed concern and rage. "And you have the day off from classes, all three of you. Once you find her, take her directly to the hospital wing and stay there with her. Do not let her out of your sight."
What? "Professor! You can't think that she's dangerous! It's Hermione!"
"Of course I don't think she's dangerous, Potter, but she is definitely going to be distraught. She needs you both right now, even if she doesn't realize it herself. Now off with you both! Find her and get her to the hospital wing." She shoed them out the door and locked it behind all of them before she headed off in a direction that would take her to the Headmaster's office.
"Harry?" Ron had found his voice again, but it as oddly hoarse. "Maybe we should try the map. She wouldn't leave the school, and the map would show us where she is."
The map! Why hadn't he thought of that himself? His idea had been to check the Astronomy Tower next, but the map made much more sense. The pair of them hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, deposited all three book satchels onto Harry's bed (they wouldn't be needing them now) and dug the Maurauders Map out of his trunk. Tapping his wand to is, he muttered the password and waited impatiently for the map to draw itself out. It seemed like an eternity before the sprawling lines finally formed a complete drawing of the school. Harry and Ron both leaned over the map to peer at it closely, making their forehead bump into each other. They scoured the multitude of red dots until they found one labled "Hermione Granger" in a particular girls' bathroom they were rather familiar with.
Harry wiped the map clean before they both bolted from the dormitory, down the spiral staircase and out the portrait hole. Everyone else had just begun their first class of the day, making the corridors empty enough that their quickened footsteps echoed against the stone walls. With everyone in class, there was no one to notice two seventh-year boys entering a girls' lavatory.
She wasn't in one of the cubicles as they had expected her to be. Instead she was sitting in a corner by the far wall, her arms wrapped around her legs and her head on her knees. Her mass of bushy brown hair draped down to cover her arms but did little to muffle the deep, soul-wracking sobs that were coming from within her. Ron and Harry exchanged worried looks before daring to walk towards her.
"'Mione?"
She flinched as though Ron's voice had been a slap. Hermione's head came up, her face barely visible as the brown hair fell over it. Her nose was red from crying, as was the one eye they could make out. She gasped and scrambled to her feet, pressing herself into the wall as though afraid of them.
Harry was alarmed by this odd behavior. "Hermione! It's us, it's Harry and Ron. We came to find you."
Hermione didn't speak, and when Harry took a step towards her she tried to squeeze herself more tightly into the corner. "Don't!"
"C'mon, Hermione! You can't think that we care what that stupid article says!"
"But it's true, Ron! All of it!" She sniffed, her expression one of absolute misery. "He really is my… my grandfather."
"Why didn't you tell us?"
Harry looked at Hermione and felt as though a knife had been twisted deep inside his gut. She had come to school this year as the same vibrant and courageous girl they had known since they were eleven, thrilled at being Head Girl and at discovering her lost family. Now she seemed somehow diminished and worn. Harry felt his heart break, because somehow he knew what the trouble was. "Because she feels dirty," he said in a soft tone. Hermione looked up at him from the curtain of springy, brown hair. "I know, Hermione, because that's how I felt in our fifth year when I thought Voldemort was possessing me. I felt unclean, like I didn't deserve to be in the same room with decent people."
He walked forward, not reaching out to her for fear of causing her to bolt, but not willing to let her get away. "But it isn't true! It doesn't matter whose blood you've got in your veins. You probably thought Ron and me would turn against you if we knew, didn't you?" He didn't wait for her to answer, but continued speaking. "That's probably the first stupid thing you've ever thought, Hermione. After all we've been through together, how could you think we'd turn our backs on you?"
"This… this isn't some broomstick or… or a rat." She seemed to be at a loss as to what to do with her hands. Finally she settled for using them to push her hair back from her face.
"Nah, those things were actually important. This is just Voldemort." Harry and Hermione both froze in place, then turned their eyes towards Ron. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, the color back in his cheeks and looking surprisingly calm. When he noticed that both of his friends wore the same pole-axed expression, he shrugged. "Well, it is."
"Ron… you said 'Voldemort'."
"So what? Correct me if I'm wrong, Harry, but ain't that his name?"
"But… you can't bear to even hear his name. You even flinch when Hermione says it and then scolds you for flinching."
Ron gave another shrug. "Dunno why the change. I guess he just doesn't seem as scary anymore. I mean, he just doesn't seem as bad if some of him is floating around inside Hermione. I know she'd never hurt us, and she's broken all his old school records. She's smarter than he is, and she's on our side." He gave Hermione a goofy sort of grin that seemed to coax a short and incredulous little laugh from her. "Besides, it doesn't matter who your family is. None of us can help that. I mean… most of mine's all right, but there's still Percy. And look what Harry's stuck with. So you've got a little Voldemort in you. You've also got a bit of Wiggentree and a bit of whoever your mum's folks are. One bad egg in the family doesn't mean all of you are bad. You've never killed anyone and you've never used an Unforgiveable. You're who you choose to be, not what you're born from."
Harry grinned at Ron, something inside him relaxing as though it had been tensed up in fear that he'd have to play referee for his best friends again. He turned to Hermione, who was finally starting to calm down. "Ron's right, it doesn't matter who you relations are. It's like Dumbledore told me during our second year: It isn't our abilities that make us who we are, but our choices. You choose to be good, to be on the side of the light. That's who you are, and no matter how much Voldemort tries to change that, that is who you'll always be."
Harry finally dared to reach out to Hermione and take a hold of her hand. He applied a gentle, but steady pressure until she moved towards him. Once she was standing next to him, he pulled a crumpled handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at her tear-streaked face. "Now, stop blubbering like a first-year Slytherin and start acting like a Gryffindor. Professor McGonagall has given us all the day off. Don't look at me like that; you're in no state to go to classes! We're supposed to take you up to the hospital wing and let Madame Pomfrey have her fun fussing over you and try to smother you with the bed sheets. Don't worry, Ron and I will be there the entire time."