Hermione listened as Draco explained what he had in mind. She trusted him completely, even a little more than she trusted the Aurors. Not because the Aurors weren't competent, but because Draco's primary goal was to keep her out of harm's way, while the Aurors' primary goal was to catch Duncan. She wanted Duncan caught, of course, but not at the risk of her partner losing his life.
The mere thought of Draco being killed or sacrificed for her filled her with an absolute terror that shook her from head to toe. She looked down at her shoes, trying to hide her anxiety, as Draco continued to explain the plan to the listening Aurors.
She and Draco would go to the graveyard, Polyjuiced as Blaise and Ginny, while two Aurors — any Aurors — would accompany them, Polyjuiced as her and Draco. This ruse would at least allow, for a while, that Duncan, if it was indeed he who was disguised as Ivana, would go after the Auror-Hermione rather than the real Hermione. Draco explained that they had to check for spells on the graveyard before trying anything. Perhaps Duncan would have charmed the graveyard beforehand so that no one could get out, or no one could apparate in.
"I have to admit, it's a good plan, Mr. Malfoy," Fergus concluded before clearing his throat. "Have you ever thought about becoming an Auror?"
Draco was quick to answer. "No."
"Maybe consider it," replied Fergus. "Anyway. As you rightly said, Mackie is unpredictable and clever. He may yet surprise us. We may think we have the upper hand, but he may already be two steps ahead."
"Either way," the Slytherin replied, uncrossing his arms, "he'll come after you, which will give Hermione, me and the third Auror time to circle him and rescue you before things get out of hand."
Clive nodded slowly, as if soaking up the young wizard's strategy. He seemed a little confused. "And you believe that Mackie could actually defeat two Aurors?" he asked.
Draco's eyes darkened and the answer came out of him without hesitation. "Yes. Even three at once."
Clive rolled his eyes and growled. "Don't you think you're overestimating him a bit?"
Draco wanted to answer, already feeling the irritation burning through his veins, but it was Hermione who beat him to it, her face serious and hard.
"Better to overestimate him than underestimate him," she said, a little coldly. "Duncan, or Mackie, whatever you call him, is ruthless. Surely you remember what you saw in my memories."
The Slytherin smirked and raised his eyebrows at Clive as if to say 'Told you'. He interlaced his fingers with the brunette's.
Clive's cheeks turned pink and he sighed. "Yes, Miss Granger," he replied softly. "I didn't mean to imply that what he did to you wasn't too serious."
"I'm not admonishing you. I just want you to be safe. We can't risk losing any more people to him."
Clive seemed touched by the Lioness's words to him, but it was with a steady gaze in her eyes that he replied. "The Auror profession involves sacrifice, many times. For the common good."
Hermione's throat closed slightly, clogged with stress. Her brother's figure, dressed in his Auror uniform, danced in her mind for a few moments, only to remind her that he too had that sacrificial value and would not hesitate to give his life to save even one innocent.
"If Mackie can beat three Aurors, we need an emergency plan," Willem said, leaning against the wall between two portraits of former Headmasters. "Just in case it happens." He looked at his two colleagues sternly. "And needless to say that it won't happen and that we'll have the situation under control."
McGonagall spoke for the first time in a long time. "What do you do when you're on a mission, another mission, that requires reinforcements? Or extra help?"
We have a Portkey system at the Ministry that allows the Auror Office to receive an emergency message when we call for backup," Fergus informed her. "Actually it's confidential so I can't reveal the incantation, in case any of you are jeopardized, but we have specially created an emergency spell that sends a message directly to the Aurors' Office. A Portkey will lead them directly to the indicated location."
Hermione gave her partner a sidelong glance, who reciprocated. The coins. Draco traced circles with his thumb against the back of her hand. She wasn't sure if she wanted to reveal that they too had magical items that let their friends know they were in danger.
McGonagall nodded, looking relieved at the answer, and uncrossed her wrinkled fingers. No one said anything for a moment.
"Are you absolutely sure you want to be part of this plan?" Willem finally breathed, examining the two Heads carefully.
"It wouldn't work without us there," said Hermione. "Let's say you go to the graveyard, Polyjuiced as us, but without us, it's like Draco said. He could kill you, capture you, torture you, anything, thinking it's us. And then we'd be no better off. But if we come along too, then we can focus on Duncan while he's distracted by you."
Draco had never felt a greater attraction to his partner than at that moment.
When they returned to their dorm that evening, Blaise and Ginny had left. It was late, after all, but neither Hermione nor Draco felt like going to bed just yet.
"I want to try again," the Slytherin said as soon as they stepped through the portrait.
They hadn't let go of each other's hands the whole way back from McGonagall's office. Hermione blinked, trying to figure out what he meant. He guessed her confusion.
"Accidental magic," he clarified. "I want to... well, I have to be able to attack or defend you if I find myself without a wand."
He dropped her hand and walked to the living room, where he stood before the fireplace, just like before. Hermione followed him in slow steps, her mouth pursed and her hands clasped in front of her as she sat on the sofa.
"You look concerned," Draco remarked.
"So do you," she replied.
He sighed and scraped the carpet with the tip of his foot. "It's just... it's very fucking easy to imagine the worst that could happen there."
The brunette nodded because she felt the same way. Her heart had been beating faster ever since they had left McGonagall's office. Everything was more official. More dangerous. She didn't have to say yes to the plan, and she knew that anyone in that office, including Draco, would have been more than relieved if she'd refused. But somehow she felt like she had to witness... the end. She had to witness the moment when Duncan would be stopped, whether by death or imprisonment. She knew in her heart that she had some role to play in that outcome. She didn't know what it was, but even if it was just disarming Duncan, then that would be it.
"Hermione?" Draco huffed.
The Lioness blinked and came to her senses, resting her attention back on her partner. He had moved closer, still standing, and was looking at her with concern. She smiled.
"What are you waiting for?" she asked softly. "I'm ready."
He returned her smile, even though deep down he knew what she was thinking. Without further ado, he closed his eyes and focused. Ginny's voice from just over an hour ago came to mind. You can fill yourself with your feeling like a Patronus, and then make it do what you want. Let yourself be filled with a feeling. A strong feeling. Rage. Anger. Fear. Angst. Draco let the flames of the fireplace behind him warm his back. He forgot his surroundings and focused on his fingers, which he frantically folded and unfolded. The rage. The anger.
The images, the memories of Duncan's dark silhouette snaking through the trees of the Forbidden Forest, running away. Laughing at the top of his lungs. Revelling in the pain he had just inflicted on Hermione. His Hermione. Mackie, the great Mackie, had opted for the cowardly solution of having his deeds carried out in the castle by a mindless bitch. Together they had tormented Hermione. Like she was a doll. As if she deserved it, simply because she was a "Mudblood".
A Mudblood.
A Mudblood.
Acid bile rose in the Slytherin's throat. Just the sound of that word, the shape of its letters, made him red mad.
A new growl awoke in the pit of his stomach, just below his navel. His fingernails dug into his palms, creating half-moons of glowing, vermilion red. The sensation in his stomach turned into a pinch that tightened his ribcage. Hermione's voice came to him, as if speaking from a great distance, and for a moment he didn't know if he was hearing it right in front of her, sitting on the sofa, or in his head.
"You can do it," she was whispering.
The idea that Duncan would want Hermione dead only to make her pay for being born into a Muggle family. The idea that he wanted her agony because he wanted to avenge the death of his own Pureblood girlfriend. The idea that if he could get his hands on her, capture her, he would indulge in every conceivable form of evil, each more cruel than the last.
Why?
Why did blood matter so much? Why was it necessary to decide who had the right to live and who didn't, simply on the basis of the status of blood? Blood is a colour.
Blood is a colour.
BLOOD IS A COLOUR.
A... colour.
The pinch in Draco's chest turned into a blockage, like a tiny piece of metal that could be ripped off with his bare hands if someone tore at his chest. You can do it, the voice of the woman he loved repeated. The blockage didn't hurt him. He felt it as the embodiment of a huge, deadly anger that threatened to coat all his organs in a devastating storm.
Grab it.
Grab the storm.
Grab the storm and protect her.
PROTECT HER.
Draco let the blockage build up and it slowly rose, like a thunderball, to his head. His brain buzzed for a few moments, as if momentarily filled with a swarm of rattling mechanical ants, each more rabid than the last. A thousand, a million of them. And soon their mouths, if they had one, burst open and proclaimed in one voice:
protect her.
protect her. protect her.
protect her. protect her. protect her. protect her.
propect her. propect her. propect her. propect her. propect her. propect her.
propect her. propect her. propect her. propect her. propect her. propect her. propect her. propect her. propect he. propect he. propect he. propect he. propect he. propect he. propect he propect he. propect he. propect he. propect he. propect he. propect he. propect he. propect he. propect he. propect he. propect he. propect he. propect he. propect he. propect he. propect he. propect he. propect he. propect he. propect he. propel he. propelhe. propel he. propel he. propel he. propel he. propel he. propel he. propel he. propel me. propel he. propel he. propel me. propel me. propel me. propel me. propel me. propel me. propel me. propel me. propel me. propel me. propel me. propel me. propel me. propel me.
Draco opened his eyes sharply, his head still throbbing with the song of anger boiling in his brain, and stared at the worktable several feet away.
"Hermione, come behind me," he ordered, his tone low.
She rose quickly from the chair and stood behind the Slytherin, without touching him. Draco, eyes still riveted on the table where they had spent many hours working, frowned and let the throbbing grow, climbing into his throat and tickling his tongue.
Break.
Something propelled itself out of him, like breath expelling from his lungs and energy ejecting from his ears, and the table broke, cracking in the centre. Hermione gasped in surprise, turning around on the sofa, and Draco fell to his knees, breathless, one hand clutching his heart.
The brunette rushed towards him and kneeled. "Draco!" she exclaimed, bewildered, her eyes sparkling. "Oh my God, you did it! You've done it!"
The blonde wizard continued to gasp for air. Only the echo of thousands of mechanical ants still reverberated against the walls of his head. A victorious smile nevertheless hung on his lips.
Hermione grabbed the back of his neck and planted a kiss on his forehead. "You only have to practice more, but you did it…"
She continued to praise him, amazed, proud, nervous and excited all at the same time. Her partner really was one of the most powerful wizards she had ever met, all things considered.
All six students were gathered in the library an hour before closing time. It was sheer coincidence that they had all ended up there. Hermione had been there for several hours with Harry and Ron helping them with their N.E.W.T. studies, while Blaise, Ginny and Draco had arrived a little later to study - but Draco knew full well that Blaise and Ginny only wanted to snog - and had bumped into them. They had pushed two tables together and continued their homework, trying not to talk too loudly.
Now an hour before closing time, Madam Pince wasn't as strict about her rules when the library closed soon, not to mention that since Hermione's accident, she'd practically let her do whatever she wanted.
Draco leaned towards Hermione. "How did you manage to study with those two for six years?"
"They aren't so bad," she defended them.
Draco pointed at Harry. "Didn't you notice that Potter mumbles what he writes out loud?"
Hermione looked at her friend and bit the inside of her cheek. She had probably noticed it a long time ago, but was completely used to it now and didn't even hear it anymore.
Draco pointed his quill at Ron. "And Weasley here taps his fingertips on the table."
The brunette saw that Draco was in fact correct and she turned to him, eyebrows raised. In turn, she pointed the tip of her long quill at Blaise at the other end of the table. "Didn't you notice that your friend scratches his head when he thinks about what to write?"
Draco looked up at Zabini and waited a moment before noticing that Blaise, leaning over the table, was now scratching his head, quill hanging over his parchment.
"Who cares," grumbled Draco.
Hermione bit back a smile and returned to her assignment. It wasn't long before she was leaning towards Draco. His scent was very appealing and comforting to her.
"You know," she whispered, "you should tell them about it."
He tilted his head towards her, only inches away, and watched the chocolate in her eyes. "About what?"
"Your... magic. You need to keep practicing. But you should tell them. And also about the graveyard plan..."
"I could just tell Blaise," he retorted quietly.
Hermione shrugged and glanced at her friends. "Everyone should know."
Draco lifted his hand and gently brushed the strands of hair that fell across the Gryffindor's forehead. He sighed, continuing the delicate touch of his fingers against her hair.
"What I wouldn't do for you..." he murmured, his expression half amused, half annoyed.
Hermione smiled fondly and kissed her boyfriend softly, merely resting her lips against his without moving them.
A crumpled ball of parchment hit Draco square on the head.
"Hey, you two!" hailed Blaise from the other end of the table. "Get a room!"
Harry, Ron and Ginny, who had all been concentrating on their homework or books, raised their heads in one motion and stared at Draco and Hermione.
"We didn't do anything!" exclaimed Hermione.
"Come on, Zab," Draco joked, extending his arm behind Hermione's chair. "For the number of times I've caught you snogging Ginny... "
Ron let out a grunt, making a face. "Please..." he pleaded. "I don't want to hear this."
"I can tell you a lot of things, Weasley..." Draco added, his smile a little more vicious. "For instance, when Ginny was Head Girl, one time I came back to the dorm and they were both on the sofa and—"
Ron put his hands over his ears, his face red, and began to sing the first thing that came into his head. "Weasley is our King, Weasley is our King, He didn't let the Quaffle in, Weasley is our King..."
Harry, Hermione and Blaise burst out laughing at the same time, but Ginny glared at Draco. She was sitting next to Blaise. "Don't traumatize my brother," she warned. "I'm not sure he can handle it."
Ron finally removed his hands from his ears, his face still red, and avoided Blaise's gaze. He had long since accepted that his little sister, his only sister, was a Slytherin's girlfriend. A decent Slytherin, after all. But hearing stories that made him visualise her doing... No.
Madame Pince approached them after twenty minutes. Her face was smiling, which was rare enough. Her eyes rested only on Hermione.
"Miss Granger," she said softly, "I'm sorry to have to send you away, but it's time to leave."
"Of course," Hermione replied.
Everyone got up to gather their things. Ron and Harry walked ahead and went out first. Like pairs following each other, Harry and Ron had a great head start, then Blaise and Ginny, hands clasped, were almost skipping, and Draco and Hermione were trailing behind. Once out of the library and into the dark corridor, Draco grabbed Blaise by the sleeve and pulled him to a stop.
"Yes, princess?" Blaise smiled.
Draco rolled his eyes. Ginny, who was walking beside Blaise, had stopped too.
"I did it," Draco said.
"Good night!" exclaimed Harry and Ron without looking back, already far down the corridor. They disappeared around the corner without waiting for a reply.
"Don't make me guess what you've succeeded at," Blaise retorted. "I have several things in mind, including bedroom achievements…"
Hermione rolled her eyes, mimicked by Ginny, but Draco ignored his friend's comment. "I've managed to control my magic," he clarified.
Blaise and Ginny's faces shifted dramatically. A smile spread across Blaise's mouth, and Ginny threw a friendly punch into Draco's stomach.
"I fucking knew it would work!" said Blaise, looking proud.
"He has to practice," Hermione added, arms folded over her books which she held to her chest. "We're going to the graveyard in ten days…"
"How did you do it?" asked Ginny.
Draco looked around. Even though it was already dark and the halls were deserted, he didn't feel like talking about it openly in the middle of a corridor. Hermione detected his discomfort.
"We should talk about it tomorrow," she suggested. "After school."
"I've got Quidditch tomorrow," Ginny sighed. "The coach is not independent yet. Ugh." No one said anything, but Ginny shrugged. "But Blaise will tell me everything, won't you?"
Blaise leaned over to his girlfriend and planted a kiss against her temple. "Of course, darling."
"Perhaps you could tell Harry and Ron?" Hermione said. "If they want to come."
Draco clenched his jaw but didn't object. He had already agreed. Ginny nodded.
Blaise looked at Draco. "Let's say before dinner, shall we? In front of the weeping willow."
"Why the willow?" Draco retorted.
"I have a theory to test. You'll see."
"Well, good night then," said Hermione.
Draco put his free arm on the Head Girl's shoulders and pulled her to him to lead her down the corridor.
"That's assuming you sleep!" Blaise winked.
Draco rolled his eyes, his back already turned. "Shut up, Zab!" Hermione and him said in unison.
Blaise walked Ginny back to the Gryffindor common room before heading for the dungeons. He was right on target. Indeed, that night Hermione and Draco didn't sleep much. For the exact same reasons he had assumed. But neither Hermione nor Draco would give him the satisfaction to know.
It was four o'clock in the afternoon the next day when Draco and Hermione headed for the outer grounds, walking to the weeping willow. It was the same willow tree around which they had gathered when they had made fireworks for the 'New Year'.
Blaise was already there, with his back against the trunk, looking at the shimmering surface of the Lake. He was wearing his Slytherin scarf wrapped loosely around his neck.
"Well, so my theory…" he began as soon as they were close enough.
"Hello to you too," Draco cut in.
Blaise pointed his index finger at Draco. "Smartass." He took an exaggeratedly polite and cheerful tone. "Hello Draco! Hello Hermione! How delightful to see you on this splendid afternoon!"
"What's your theory, Zabini?" asked Draco.
Hermione shoved her hands into her pockets. Before Blaise could answer, Harry arrived, walking slowly. He wasn't wearing his wizard robes, but a light Muggle jacket.
"Oh, hello Harry!" greeted Blaise.
Harry reached the small group around the weeping willow and looked at Blaise. "Erm... hello."
"Weasley's not coming?" asked Draco, unable to hide his smile.
Harry shrugged. "He wanted to come, but after class he fell asleep on the couch and I couldn't wake him up…"
"Typical," Hermione smiled.
"Well," Blaise said, turning his attention back to Draco, "I need to know how you did it. So what did you do?"
Draco frowned, trying to describe exactly what he had done and felt. "Like you guys said, I focused on violent emotions. They... flooded me. I felt them swarming inside me like insects. And then I felt like they were begging me to come out."
Blaise looked at Hermione. "What about you? Did you feel anything while this was happening?"
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "No, I didn't. He told me to stand back and the next thing I knew the table was breaking."
Blaise nodded.
"What theory do you want to test?" asked Draco suspiciously. "I forbid you to use Hermione as a guinea pig…" To back up his words, he put his arm around Hermione's shoulders and pulled her closer to him.
She grabbed his hand and did not push him away, keeping a careful expression on her face. She looked up at her partner. "It's up to me, don't you think?" she kissed the underside of his jaw.
Draco grumbled something but said nothing. It was Blaise who spoke up again. "I want to check if it works when Hermione is in danger, or in danger of getting hurt."
Harry and Draco both widened their eyes at the same time and began to object as one, and even Hermione bit her lip in mild bewilderment. Blaise held his palms up in front of him to silence them.
"Wait, wait!" he hissed. "Don't throw rocks at me just yet until you know my idea. I'd like Hermione to stand under a big branch. I'll take care of breaking it, Harry will take care of casting a protection spell on Hermione if need be."
"What about me?" snarled Draco, unable to hide his horror at the idea.
Blaise pointed at him. "You, you will ask your magic, without a wand of course, to prevent the branch from falling on her."
The Head Boy immediately shook his head and took a few steps back, dragging Hermione with him. "No way," he growled. "Zab, you're out of your mind. You want to drop a fucking branch on her head?"
"Draco..." Hermione began.
"For once, I agree with Malfoy," Harry breathed, his eyebrows furrowing at Blaise. "Hermione could be hurt."
"Only if you're not good at spells," Blaise retorted.
Harry grumbled and sighed, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. Hermione's thoughts were racing. If the idea had seemed crazy and dangerous at first, the more she thought about it, the more she knew it was a great way to practice, or at least try, Draco's wandless bursts of magic. Gently, she raised her hand and placed it against her boyfriend's chest, who seemed agitated.
"Listen," she said slowly. "It'll be fine." She smiled broadly to show her ease. "I'm not afraid. Harry is excellent at spells. And Blaise will only have to break a branch high enough to give Harry time to react. If necessary."
Draco gritted his teeth, eyes glued to the glistening surface of the Lake. The brunette leaned in a little closer to him in a tone of confidence. "In fact, I'm sure you'll be able to protect me from the branch."
The blonde Slytherin took a long breath, welcoming the fresh air that filled his lungs. After a moment, he laid his cold eyes on her. "If the branch touches you, I'll break his legs," he scolded.
Harry, who could hear everything, opened his mouth to take offence, but Hermione hurried to smile. "Works for me!"
She winked subtly at Harry, who rolled his eyes, and peeled herself away from Draco. He grudgingly let her walk over to the weeping willow. Blaise rubbed his hands together again and moved a few feet to the left of the trunk, and Harry followed suit to the right. They both drew their wands. Draco moved back several feet, so that he was about fifteen meters away from the Gryffindor, standing still under the willow.
"Hermione, are you fucking sure about this?" sighed Draco, shaking his hands as if he was about to strike.
She nodded stiffly, concealing the nervousness that was nibbling at her stomach. She trusted Harry. Completely. She also had absolute confidence in Draco and knew that if he had succeeded once, it meant he could do it again and do it better.
Blaise considered the Lioness's location a few meters below a huge branch at least twenty centimetres in diameter. The fall of this branch on her head could seriously injure her, or even kill her, if Harry wasn't quick enough. He swallowed his doubts for a moment. How else could they test Draco's magic if he couldn't try it when his girlfriend was in danger?
Blaise glanced at Harry. "Ready, Potter?"
He nodded.
"Wait, wait, wait!" cried Draco. "I have to get ready!"
Blaise lowered his arm. "Get ready? This isn't a fucking Ball, Malfoy!"
"What do you mean?" asked Harry.
"It takes a while for me to feel the power that wants to come out of me," Draco explained. "If Zabini breaks the branch right away without me even summoning my magic or my emotions, it won't work."
Harry pursed his lips and Blaise frowned. "Can you tell us when it's time?"
Draco blinked. "I think so."
When he closed his eyes to focus and summon his raw emotions, they quickly awoke, as if they had been waiting deep inside him all this time. Falling back into his gory thoughts where Hermione's body, fractured and white, lay in the snow, he noticed that the buzzing was quicker to run through him. The clicking of ants soon ripped through every gruesome image, memories and scenarios intertwined, of Hermione in danger. Rage numbed his brain, and his saliva tasted sterile.
Draco waited for the throbbing to grow in intensity, the same way it had the first time in his dorm, and he could almost feel the request emanating from within himself: propel me. But as he let this army of microscopic angers build, Blaise didn't wait to cast his spell upon the branch above Hermione.
Draco's eyes widened in shock and horror, and two things happened simultaneously. He saw that the huge branch had snapped and would hit Hermione before he had time to grab his wand. And at the same time, he felt the ignition of his magic like a vein running from his hairline to the tips of his fingernails, and a single, dry, clear PROPEL ME boomed in his head. The next second, without him having commanded anything, his heart pounding in anguish, he felt his magic spring out of him like a force field at lightspeed that pulverised the branch into a thousand pieces just as Harry shouted a Protego. The protective spell still reached Hermione and saved her from receiving only a few tiny pieces of bark on the head.
Harry, Blaise and Hermione's mouths were all hanging open in amazement, but Draco was already rushing angrily towards Blaise, ignoring the strain that had fallen on him.
"I told you to wait!" he hissed. "What's wrong with you?"
Hermione and Harry rushed towards the two Slytherins, but no one had pulled a fist, though Draco was certainly in the mood for it. Blaise took a step back, defensively.
"My theory was to test if your magic could react before you were even prepared. Danger will never wait until you're ready! I had to find a way to test if your magic could react to the danger Hermione was in without you ordering it to do anything."
Draco swore, but couldn't think of anything to say at the moment. He let his heartbeat slow down and finally hurried to close the distance between Hermione and himself and pulled her into a smothering embrace.
"Are you alright?" he whispered.
Hermione patted his back gently, but her chest was so compressed by Draco's strength that she could only manage a hoarse "Yes…"
Draco released her immediately, suddenly realizing his grip, and took her hand.
Harry cleared his throat. "Is that what happened, Draco?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Your magic reacted without you commanding it to do so?"
Draco shrugged, still on edge from what had happened. "I guess so," he replied quickly.
Blaise rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw. "Don't tell me we did this for nothing and have to do it again! Did you order your magic to protect Hermione or not?"
Draco bit his tongue and swallowed his scathing retort. "No," he confessed, a little bitterly. "No, I didn't command my magic."
"Did you know if your magic would break the branch or do something else?" Harry continued.
"No."
Hermione stroked the top of his hand with her thumb. "What exactly did you feel?" she asked softly.
Draco continued to take deep breaths to calm his anger, which was receding more and more. He concentrated on describing as accurately as possible what he had felt.
"First I put myself into a state of mind to focus on my intense emotions. My anger. My when I'm full enough, I start to feel some kind of pulsating... Like I'm being pinched. All over."
"Like electroshocks?" Hermione breathed before she could think twice about the fact that Draco would have no idea what she was talking about.
"Like... what? Never mind," he sighed.
Harry knew what Hermione meant, but he didn't interfere.
"You know, like little jolts," she explained.
"It's not really like that, if I know what you mean... it's more like something... er, buzzing inside me."
Blaise frowned and began pacing in circles. It helped him think. "Like... bees?" he suggested.
"Yes... but no," sighed Draco. "Smaller still. More violent. Angrier."
Hermione raised her head to study her partner's face. "Ants?" she blurted out.
"Yes! Fucking ants!"
"Wait, wait, wait," Harry finally interrupted. "You have ants inside you?"
The Lioness gave him an obvious look.
"We're talking about the impression he has, Harry," she said.
Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Blaise beat him to it.
"And those ants... what are they doing?"
"They're... eating me," Draco continued. "They go through all my limbs. I can feel them in the cartilage of my bones. And they—"
He paused abruptly, biting down on his words to keep them from coming out of his mouth. Hermione, Blaise and Harry stared at him, waiting for him to continue. Blaise stopped walking and glanced at Hermione in bewilderment.
"Wait, wait, wait," Harry finally interrupted. "You' ve got ants inside you?"
The Lioness gave him an obvious look. "We're talking about the feeling he has, Harry," she said.
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Blaise beat him to it. "And those ants... what are they doing?"
"They're... eating me," Draco continued. "They're going through all my limbs. I can feel them in the cartilage of my bones. And they—" He paused abruptly, biting down on his words to keep them from coming out of his mouth.
Hermione, Blaise and Harry stared at him, waiting for him to continue. Blaise stopped walking and glanced at Hermione in bewilderment.
"They what, Malfoy?" Blaise finally encouraged.
Draco didn't want to say it out of concern that he would sound like a lunatic, but only the welcoming eyes of the woman he loved prompted him to be honest.
"They scream," he said. "They screech. They stampede and ask to be pushed out. To be propelled. They want to protect. That's how I felt the first time I managed to break a table."
The other three who were listening to him remained silent. Hermione continued to caress the top of his hand. She felt impressed by the obvious power Draco wielded to be able to extract it from himself wandlessly. Oh, hell, how much she loved that man...
"The first time, you allowed your... ant magic... to come out?" asked Blaise after a moment.
Draco nodded.
"But this time?"
"This time I felt the swarming, but I didn't command anything. As soon as I opened my eyes and saw that the branch had broken off and was falling on Hermione, they jumped out on their own."
"This is nuts," Harry huffed, running a hand through his hair. "So your... accidental magic is now under control, but at the same time, it's not?"
"Something like that," Draco growled.
"I don't even know what to call it," Blaise admitted. "Controlled accidental magic, but independent."
Hermione had been silent for a while, listening to the boys talk. Her thoughts were spinning like a speedy merry-go-round, with each metal horse representing an idea. Accidental magic. Controlled. Independent. Accidental.
"We should just call it the ANTS," she finally said.
Draco almost choked. "Say that again?"
"The A.N.T.S. Accidental Not Totally Safe magic."
Harry smirked. "Wanna make badges, Hermione? Just like the S.P.E.W?"
The outburst of laughter that came out of Blaise spooked a few birds that flew away, offended. Draco frowned at his girlfriend. "Can't we find something else?"
She looked at him innocently. "What's wrong? It's easier to say, to pronounce, and we totally know what it refers to. Plus, it describes how you feel!"
"You're nuts," said Drago. "Couldn't last a year without making an acronym, could you?"
"I love you too," she smiled back.
Blaise pulled Hermione towards him to quickly hug her. "Oh, dear God, what did I do to deserve you?" he laughed. "But anyway, back to you, sunshine," he stepped back and looked at Draco.
"It will take more practice," said Blaise.
"Do you mean creating scenarios where Hermione is 'falsely' endangered?" he spat. "No fucking way!"
"But Malfoy! You saw it in action! And it all worked out!"
"No thanks to you," Draco snorted sarcastically.
"Exactly!" exclaimed Blaise. "Thanks to you! To you protecting her!"
Draco raised his arms to the sky. "I didn't even know what I was doing!" Anger was scratching at the pit of his stomach.
"Yes, you knew!" countered Blaise. "But subconsciously! Your fucking ANTS don't need permission, so I gather, to be released to perform what you consciously wanted them to do. You wanted to protect Hermione from harm, and they heard you! The ANTS are not a separate entity from you, Malfoy, they are you!"
"Unbelievable," Harry muttered, still amazed at how much he was learning and understanding.
He looked at Draco Malfoy as if he had never seen him before. His expression almost caused him to laugh, but he restrained himself. He didn't want to get the smack of his life.
"We just need to test the limits of your magic," Hermione whispered softly. "I'm not afraid of getting hurt. I'm telling you."
After a long moment of hesitation, Draco finally gave in, feeling he had no choice but to agree. So the four of them stayed out until dinner time, trying different ways to 'put Hermione in danger'. They tried the broken branch scenario again, but this time Draco's magic propelled the branch into the Lake instead of shattering it. Hermione agreed to let Blaise cast a laceration spell on her, which Draco's ANTS magic hurried to deflect as soon as the spell sprang from the tip of the wand. Harry and Blaise together levitated Hermione's body high above the Lake to test what would happen. When they dropped her like a rag doll above the cold black surface, she was suspended by one foot just before she hit the water, so close that her hair soaked into the Lake.
"It's amazing!" she exclaimed, her head turned upside down and hair floating on the surface of the Lake. "Draco, you're a genius!"
He grunted in reply and pulled out his wand himself to levitate her to the shore, where he hastily set her down on dry land. Her hair dripped down her shoulders and onto her back. Harry muttered a drying spell behind her back, even though she hadn't asked him to. Hermione felt filled with adrenaline, pumped up by the fact that she was witnessing a new side of magic that she had never heard of. All the logistics of the inner process going on in Draco's mind escaped her, but in practice, the results were impressive.
The last thing Blaise wanted to test was whether the ANTS magic could activate if Draco wasn't watching and didn't know what the danger was. Without telling Draco what they were going to do, Blaise and Harry tried the branch scenario again. Hermione stayed under the willow and Draco kept his back turned, not knowing if Hermione would get a spell, a blow, a branch, or any other form of harm.
He concentrated in the same way he had all the previous times and felt the now familiar and more comfortable swarming. But when he heard the loud crack of the tree behind him, he felt no energy propelling itself out of him. It was only when he heard Harry shout 'Protego!' that he knew it hadn't worked. The branch slammed hard against the spell barrier surrounding Hermione and fell to the ground behind her.
Blaise lowered his wand, followed by Harry. Draco turned to face them, deadpan.
"Well, I think that settles it," he said.
The week before April 21st, the 'graveyard day' as they called it, went by quickly. The closer the fateful date came, the more nervous Hermione and Draco became. Of course, they had found a moment to describe the plan they had agreed with the Aurors to their friends, but worry had overridden any other emotion. They had talked about the magic coins. Everyone had been to Chiswick Graveyard at least once, except Harry. They had talked about the Polyjuice scam. They had talked about everything that was supposed to happen. They had discussed the worst case scenarios, and the best case scenarios. Eventually the discussion had died down and no one had anything else to say. Only Harry hadn't opened his mouth since the beginning, deep in his own morbid thoughts as he watched his best friend march slowly towards the monster's jaw.
That week, Draco spent a lot of time in the library, reading. He borrowed a lot of books that he brought back to the dorm, reading as fast as he could. Hermione even surprised him mumbling and waving his wand a couple of times. One evening, she had decided to ask him what he had gotten himself into, and he showed her the cover of the book without taking his eyes of the page.
"Healing Spells, Cures & Other Mending Charms," she had read out loud.
"I've got to be prepared," he had said, even if she didn't ask.
She had said nothing more and had left him alone. She knew what he was preparing for.
Clive had summoned them outside the Great Hall during a meal and handed them each a personality question sheet with questions about themselves and their relationship. The Aurora who would be taking their appearance had to learn and study who they were to be able to represent their character accurately if Mackie came to ask questions, since he had already known Hermione personally.
On April 20th, all students received the official invitation for the Seventh and Eighth Year graduation ceremony which would take place on June 20th. It seemed so far away to Hermione. In two months she would be graduating. She had given very little thought to where she wanted to go after Hogwarts, and most people were pushing her to be the next Minister of Magic, but that wasn't exactly what she wanted. Yes, she wanted to change the world. But it was more specific than that. No one could change the wizards in the world. What she wanted was to change the world of every wizard. A silly thought had occurred to her as she noticed a momentary veil of sadness in Ron and Ginny's eyes, who had also lost their brother. Grief was coming back to haunt them, just as her own grief was coming back to knock on the door of her life to remind her that it was still there, alive and aching. What happened to the bereaved wizards who had all lost one or more of their loved ones in the war, or even at the hand of a Death Eater, or in a simple accident? And most importantly, how do wizarding schools deal with such traumatic situations to enable their bereaved students to receive the support they needed while continuing their studies?
At dinner, no one had managed to eat much because of the palpable nervousness. Only Ron had eaten a little more than the others, but a lot less than usual. Harry kept his eyes glued to his plate, almost absent from the surrounding conversations. He felt helpless and miserable. The atmosphere was heavy at the end of the Slytherin table, where the four Gryffindors were now also eating. Hermione didn't want to admit to herself that this might be their last meal. She tried to stay positive and optimistic, but the thought of seeing Duncan again for the first time since the night of the Forest knotted her stomach with a fertile, paralyzing panic. Not to mention the fact that the next day she might even lose the love of her life...
Tonight is the last night you can afford to be afraid, she thought inwardly. Tomorrow you can't be afraid. You'll have to step up.
So to lighten the mood, she started asking everyone about their post-Hogwarts career plans. She hadn't really bothered to ask during the year, too focused on her own drama and, well, because she was in a coma.
"I'll keep playing Quidditch," Ginny replied at once. "Playing pro. I like coaching too…"
Blaise leaned sensually towards her. "Oh yes, coaching is your thing," he whispered before kissing her nose.
"Guys!" Winced Ron.
"What about you?" Hermione asked.
Ron shrugged. "Auror, probably."
Hermione nodded, smiling, and moved on to Harry, who still seemed lost in thought. He'd been quite moody for several days. He didn't immediately realize that everyone was staring at him. He finally flinched slightly and Hermione repeated her question.
"Erm... I was thinking of maybe being a teacher. Or Auror. I don't really know."
Hermione looked to Draco for an answer, but her blonde partner only shrugged sheepishly.
"Potions Master, probably," he muttered casually.
It was the answer he'd used to give automatically whenever he'd been asked, and he hadn't had time to think about whether or not that was the career he really wanted to pursue. He said nothing more and let Blaise finish. But Hermione kept her eyes on him a little longer, surprised and slightly confused. It wasn't exactly the answer she had expected from him, but on the other hand, she didn't know what she had expected from Draco Malfoy either.
Attention turned to Blaise, the last to reply. He grinned a little deviously.
"I've been told I'm good at solving problems," he said. "Oh, and I hear everyone wants my advice, so after Hogwarts I'll probably start a little private business. One Galleon for each piece of advice. I'll be fucking rich and buy you useless junk at Christmas."
His answer was followed by an awkward silence, before everyone burst out laughing at the same time. The atmosphere lightened immediately. As everyone left to return to their common room, after Blaise and Ginny gave their hair to Draco and Hermione, which they kept in a small vial.
"Are you heading there after lunch?" Ginny enquired.
Draco nodded. "But we'll leave earlier. We actually have to go to the Ministry first."
"Will you join us for breakfast tomorrow, then?" asked Blaise.
Hermione's mouth quirked to one side. "I don't know," she admitted. "I hope so."
There was another silence, where no one knew what to say, and finally Ginny hugged Hermione. One, two, five, ten seconds... Hermione patted her shoulder gently.
"Come on, I'm not going to war, Gin," she smiled to reassure her, though that was exactly what she felt like doing. "You'll see me again."
Ron, Blaise and Harry in turn hugged her and Hermione accepted every embrace, refusing to believe that it would be her last. When Harry put his arms around her, the brunette whispered in his ear:
"Harry, are you all right?"
He pulled away from her and held her at arm's length, his hands on her shoulders. He had a resolute look on his face that she knew he had when he was decisive about something.
"It'll be fine, Hermione," he replied.
He leaned over and kissed her cheek quickly before patting Draco on the shoulder twice as a goodbye. He was the first to walk away towards his common room, leaving the small group behind. Hermione watched him walk away, her throat tightening, before looking at Ron.
"Would you please try and find out what's wrong," she asked him. "I don't understand what's with him."
Ron nodded. "I will. But I think he's just worried."
I'm not going to die, thought Hermione deep down. I am not going to die.
Am I?
That evening, in their dorm, Draco and Hermione were sitting in front of the fireplace, hands folded together. They hadn't spoken for several minutes. Hermione knew that they would need a good night's sleep to have enough energy for the next day, but she couldn't close her eyes without a plethora of scenarios running through her mind. She knew full well and logically that she shouldn't ask the wrong questions, the fatal questions, but her brain decided otherwise. The chorus of what-ifs played like a terrifying cacophony in every corner of her head and gave her no respite.
What if Duncan managed to escape tomorrow?
What if he went back to Hogwarts to take revenge and kill her friends?
What if Draco was captured for ransom so that she would surrender?
What if all the Aurors died and they had no one left to defend them?
What if they lost the magic coins?
What if the person in the graveyard wasn't Duncan and they ended up killing an innocent?
What if she died, what would Draco do?
What if she died, would she see Sam again?
Hermione shivered and shifted uncomfortably. Draco rested his cheek against her head. "Are you alright?" he asked gently.
She drew in a shaky breath. Her tongue could not shape out the words. What words? What was it that wanted to come out of her mouth? She gulped to soothe her dry throat and blinked a few times. The Slytherin remained silent, respectful, until she could formulate her answer.
"What if we both die?" she finally whispered, her eyes still fixed on the flames.
Draco slipped his arm behind her shoulders and pulled her against him, rubbing her arm vigorously. "Mackie will have the same fate as us. If we die, he'll die with us."
"But I don't want you to die," she whispered.
He kissed her temple, but kept his face pressed against her head. "I know," he answered in a whisper. "I won't die until I'm sure you're safe. I promise you that."
"That's not what I want, Draco. I don't want to live without you. I won't." She shifted a few inches so that she could look into his eyes. The light from the flames danced freely across his cheek. "If you go, I go."
"Hermione..."
"I can't bear the thought of leaving that graveyard without you tomorrow."
"It won't happen," he reassured her as he pulled her back to him to rest her head against his chest.
He was not convinced of his own answer. He honestly had no fucking clue about what would happen tomorrow, but he tried to rule out the most horrifying possibilities. The only thing that mattered to him was that Hermione made it out. Whether it was at the expense of his own life or even that of an Auror. Even if Mackie made him choose between killing the Aurors or killing Hermione, he would kill the Aurors without fucking blinking. Nothing, absolutely nothing, would even brush his witch's hair.
"I need to do something," she suddenly blurted out, peeling herself away. "Tonight."
"Now?" Draco asked, eyebrows raised.
She nodded. "Alone."
The blonde wizard's face hardened. "You know very well that I'm not leaving your side," he grumbled. "Not after everything that happened to you in the castle. I'm coming."
"You can come, but I don't want you to ask me any questions. Got it?"
He agreed.
Midnight was approaching. Draco had followed Hermione into the dark and silent corridors of the castle. It was a full moon. The bright, milky glow shone through the window panes and cast white, squared shapes against the walls. He hadn't asked any questions, not even when he realised that Hermione was heading for the Owlery. They hadn't run into Filch, who was probably on patrol in another wing of the castle. And even if he caught them in the corridors after curfew, since they were both Heads, they could find any excuse to justify their rule-breaking.
Hermione asked Draco to wait at the bottom of the Owlery's staircase. He didn't want to agree, but since he had promised her that he wouldn't ask questions, he did and swallowed his protests. She climbed, alone, to the top of the Owlery, where the owls were hooting softly as if they were chatting with each other.
"Hello, guys," she whispered to the birds.
They looked at her with round, glowing eyes, and she walked over to the window with a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. She pulled herself up onto the windowsill, glancing down for a second, and sat down. Her legs hung in the void. The night wind tousled her hair and she took several breaths to calm the rush of sensations that clashed together like waves crashing on a beach before receding.
The last time she was here, it was with a very different intention. She had wanted to jump, to end her life.
But the "real" last time she was here was during her coma. And she had seen her brother.
She gazed at the dark blanket of the Forest's tree tops, at the gentle curve of the land, at the little footpaths, at Hagrid's hut, tiny from here. At the rings of the Quidditch pitch, with its silent bleachers.
"Do you really want me to do this, Sam?" she whispered to the sky, pecked with a myriad of stars.
The horrific scenarios of the many dangers that awaited her the next day — or rather in twelve hours' time — continued to send shivers of anxiety down her spine.
"I don't want to lose another person I love," she breathed. "Do you understand?"
An owl hooted softly, as if to answer her. Her eyes went down to her lap, and she rubbed her sweaty palms against her jeans in a continuous back and forth motion. The tip of her nose was getting cold, but it felt good, that little pinch.
"I'm not sure I can get through more grief," she confessed to the stars.
She blinked a few times, realizing that beads of tears had decided to rise from the corners of her eyes. "If I lose him, I'll lose myself."
She swallowed and blinked, examining the starry dome above her.
"So tell me, Sam, is this what I have to do?"
Whether by chance or magic, or maybe divine apparition, the wind strengthened and whisked her hair with energy. Hermione almost wanted to smile. Her nervousness subsided, like air being taken out of an over-inflated balloon. Her lungs inhaled a liberating amount of oxygen. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel her brother's hand ruffling her hair.
She had to jump into tomorrow just like she had to jump off a cliff, hoping the landing, at the end of the day, would be smooth — hoping there would be a landing at all.
"Okay, okay," she murmured with a half-smile, "but you'll watch over him, you promise?"
That night, when Draco and Hermione returned to their dorm, they made love with a tender, feverish despair. With flesh against flesh, mouth against mouth, soul against soul, they gave themselves up to each other with the passion of two condemned men waiting for the gallows.
Jump, and you will find out how to unfold your wings as you fall.
Ray Bradbury