Chapter 24: Dumbledore Part 2
"Any point for this charming visit?" Draco said around his sore tongue, his voice muffled by the palm he held over his mouth. Hermione looked down and quickly began buttoning her shirt, abruptly thankful that her Slytherin hadn't gotten far.
"Yeah, there is," Ron said indignantly. "Though, if you'd like us to come back at a better time…?" he added nastily, indicating Hermione, whose fingers were trembling so badly that she couldn't button her shirt properly.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake! I can snog whomever I want! Get to the point of your visit," she snapped. "And knock next time." Draco slowly lowered his hand, smirking, and she felt her own mouth twitch in response. Fearing to ruin the moment, she shoved his smirk back at him. It would not flow over to her this time.
Harry sighed and looked at Ron, who was furious. The redhead swallowed his rage, turning an unnatural purple color before returning to his normal skin tone. "We did knock," he growled indignantly. Hermione frowned and looked down, thinking. She and Draco would have heard a knock…. The book that they'd been looking at was on a thick pile of Draco's clothing, and she realized what had happened. On that pile of clothing, the book wouldn't have made a sound. But if two boys had knocked (quite unfortunately) at the same time the book fell….
"Okay, you did knock. We didn't hear it," Hermione said, hoping Draco would gather what happened in her thoughts. "That still doesn't explain why you've come."
The two boys looked at each other, obviously debating. In the end, Harry spoke, "We wanted to be friends again," he said. Hermione could see that he and Ron both were holding back 'but after seeing that…'. Well, it certainly wasn't her fault they'd walked in on her and Draco, and she was not about to apologize for it.
No one said anything. Draco's smirk slipped, and he ended up wearing a cold mask. "Why?" Hermione said at last. Her voice seemed hoarse in the silence, and Draco edged closer to her.
"Dumbledore wanted us to. He told us everything. But more than that…we missed you," Ron said. There was a challenge in his voice, daring her to say something rude or disbelieving.
Hermione did no such thing. She glanced over at Draco, and they mutually thought that it was something the headmaster would do. Yes or no, Draco?
Your choice, he thought back, and held up his hands to say that he had no part in the decision. Even so, he stepped closer to her, and she could feel him standing behind her and to the left, ready for anything.
Are you expecting a fight? Hermione thought, alarmed. She shot him a sideways look over her shoulder.
With you, I never know what to expect. She had no time to be humored by this and turned back to the two boys standing in the doorway. "Come on in, then, it's no use shouting to everyone that we're in here." The two of them hesitated, and Hermione rolled her eyes and shoved her anger at Draco. This was not a good time to be getting irate. "Breakfast?" she murmured to him.
Draco growled in the back of his throat and struggled with her anger. The apology she sent him was largely ignored as he stormed out of the room to get breakfast.
Hermione gave Harry and Ron an apologetic look and moved to sit in an armchair by the fire that hadn't been there before. "So you came to make friends because of Dumbledore," she said laughingly. "Not exactly what I would have expected from him, but then again…I am currently one of the best in the game."
Harry looked somewhat alarmed by her speech and shared a glance with Ron. There was no way she could have known her words were so close to Dumbledore's.
"So what is it you really want? Surely you didn't come back here because you missed me," she said. I will not get hurt by them again, she resolved. Draco's thoughts snorted within hers, and she jumped in her seat. "Perhaps Dumbledore used some of his compulsion magic on you? Even if he didn't, I expect you simply want to use me to get to…my father," she murmured.
At that, the two Gryffindors cringed. Hermione smirked—that had been what she wanted. Stop being such a bitch! Her thoughts screamed. She wouldn't though, and she knew it. This was her barrier, her protection against them. If she continued to be mean and uppity, they could do nothing to hurt her. So she hoped.
The looks Harry and Ron were exchanging did not reassure her whatsoever. Her walls crumbled a little, and she cursed herself for daring to hope that they wanted to be friends again, and not just use her. "Oh my gosh," she whispered. "You really did just want to use me. How dare you. I am not a tool!"
By now she was on her feet and Draco was in her mind, worrying here and there, trying to set her to mind to rights. Dimly, she felt herself leaning against a wall, breathing in deeply and trying to sort everything out. She allowed Draco's actions to take over, and could feel her deep breathing mirroring his.
Are you all right? Are you all right? Hermione! Hermione, answer me!
I'm fine, she sent back faintly. Thank you.
Blinking rapidly, she swayed on her feet as she drew her mind back into her body. Her anger was gone, Draco had swept it up into himself, and she felt drained, tilting back and forth there in front of the fire in their room. There was a heavy plop as she sat back in her seat. "Look," she said quite calmly. "Harry, Ron. I'm not going to help people who only want to use me. I've already done that once, and it did me absolutely no good." Hermione crossed her legs. "That mistake won't be repeated."
"But…Dumbledore said…" Ron began.
"Oh? Going to do something simply because Dumbledore says so? Yes, you two always were good at that. What you don't seem to realize is that I will kill him. What are you going to do then?"
Once again, all they did was stare at her. "Draco gives better conversation than you two," she muttered. No, she must not get annoyed. Feeling guilty, she pushed the irritation to the vague border between herself and the blond. Thankfully, he took it upon himself as well. I owe you ten times over for this, she thought with it.
If Draco replied, Hermione didn't know, because Harry leapt to his feet yelling. "How dare you compare us to him! After all the pain and trouble he caused us since the moment we got here, and you're sleeping with him, and snogging him and who knows what the hell else with him! It's disgusting, and so are you! I can't believe Dumbledore wanted us to talk to you and we actually considered it for a moment…!"
Harry continued, and after her initial surprise at his outburst, Hermione settled back in her chair with a smirk. At least he was talking now. "…And what the FUCK is that look for?" Harry bellowed.
Draco's laughter bubbled up in her mind. "Amazing. So you do speak," she said sarcastically. "I didn't expect that to be what set you off, but now that it seems you have crossed this imaginary boundary, maybe we can have an actual conversation." Harry's mouth gaped at her, and she couldn't help but snicker.
"Fine. Maybe we don't want to be your friend," Ron assented. "But we need you. That's what it comes down to." Harry stood, looking between the two of them in amazement. Hermione's eyebrows rose. This she had not expected, particularly from Ron.
"I'll accede to that," she said, giving him a tiny nod. Touché, she thought. Draco's curiosity piqued, and she allowed him into her mind to hear the events. For an absurd minute, Hermione imagined the group of them sitting in an old-fashioned parlor discussing philosophy and sipping at tea. The moment passed and in her mind, she faintly heard Draco laugh at the image.
"Then you'll help us?" Harry said, flopping back onto the couch but leaning forward eagerly.
Hermione sat and thought. Logic warred with her emotions and with Draco's own feelings about this. Draco's feelings said no, no, no, no, no. Her emotions whined, stay away, don't get hurt again. But logic said, think of the benefits to everyone.
The conclusion came to her as always, in cold, hard, logic. She breathed out a long breath that she didn't even know she was holding. "Yes. On one condition: you must be civil to Draco."
This time, it was Ron's mouth that dropped. Harry, however seemed to think it over. "He must be civil back," he said.
"You are in little position to negotiate," she reminded him and tucked away her smile. Harry's outraged look was worth it. "However…" she paused, and silence fell upon the room. The doorknob rattled, and Draco walked in carrying a full tray of food, which he set down on the coffee table. "Draco?"
"Fine, I'll be civil," he growled as he perched on the armrest of the armchair she sat in. Hermione smirked at the astonished look on Harry's face, and then grinned as Ron's face reciprocated it. Particularly from out in the corridor, there was no way he could have known what they were talking about. "Breakfast?" she asked, offering no explanation.
"Oi, get me a butterbeer!" Fred called across the room. His brother, grinning, picked up an extra three and headed over to him.
"What do you think this meeting's about?" George asked, looking over to his mother, who was frowning in disapproval at the number of butterbeers he was stacking onto the table. He knew only as much as Fred did, but their mother may know more.
Much to their disappointment, Mrs. Weasley shrugged. Tonks seated herself energetically next to their mother and swiped a butterbeer. "Hey!" the twins protested simultaneously, but she simply grinned at them and swung her barstool around so that they couldn't reach. Her hair was currently long and dark blue, and her face made her look like she was sixteen, dotted with freckles and with a lightning quick smile.
Once her butterbeer was done, she conked it onto the table and leaned in close to the twins, who eyed her uncertainly. "You two know what this meeting is about?" she asked. They shook their heads, and she sat back on her stool, put out. "No one else does either," she groaned. "Everyone was summoned here with little to no notice, and none of us know what for."
There was the sound of the door opening and shutting, and Tonks jumped up and hurried off in that direction. Fred and George hoarded their own butterbeers closer to them as Lupin walked in with Mad Eye Moody. Tonks was already kneading them for information, but it was obvious that they either knew nothing or would not tell.
People filtered in until about eleven that night. Bill came in at half past eleven, out of breath and flushed from the cold outside. Fred and George took sympathy on their brother and handed him their last butterbeer, which he took gratefully.
At midnight precisely the room hushed, and everyone turned to look at the door, where Dumbledore stood. He had made no noise at all entering the house, which added to the expectant aura that hung over him.
"I have a great piece of news to tell you. I wish you all to hear me out before you begin to talk or question my judgment. If you have questions after, as I'm sure everyone will, I won't mind answering it then. But hear me out." Dumbledore looked around the room, and Fred and George met each other's eyes uneasily. Armed with this disclaimer, the meeting did not appear to bode well for hopes of good news.
"For the past few months, I have had yet another spy in the ranks of the Death Eaters. This one has, as of yet, been not very useful, but I anticipate that her value will appreciate in the future. I personally feel that Voldemort has been too reclusive for us to give Harry and good chance at defeating him. So I began thinking that I would need to do something…something to draw him out of his cave.
"It was then that this second spy came to me and gave me the answer to my problems. She gave me a way to do this. I believe that if I do what she suggested—however indirectly—that I may give us a fair chance at winning this war. The element of surprise will take us far, so I expect you to apply it generously.
"If all goes well, what I have chosen to do will give Voldemort a false sense of security. Hopefully enough to get him to loosen his security. I want the Order to lie low for a few months, pretend to disband or at least lose order. Wait for him to grow comfortable. Then strike.
"I have set this all up so that it may go with considerable ease. Harry and my contact are in touch with one another, and therefore he can see into Voldemort's ranks as almost no one else can.
"I am going to die. Now, before you protest, think. I may be a good wizard, but I am old. I had not thought to die this soon, but the opportunity has presented itself, and I believe it to do more good than harm."
Of course, despite earlier warnings, everyone was on their feet, shouting, protesting, or staring in complete disbelief. Dumbledore raised his hands for quiet. "Listen." Thankfully, the room fell silent, and he continued, "My death will secure my spy in Voldemort's ranks. She is already in his inner circle, and is intelligent enough to pass information to Harry without too much trouble. Not only that, but when I die, Voldemort will loosen the tight strings on his security."
Of course, after that, the meeting was chaos. It was four in the morning before everyone accepted that Dumbledore would not be swayed and they began to plan out what to do in the aftermath, putting together different arrangements for variables. Though no one would challenge him, everyone had doubt on their minds about Dumbledore's plan….
The girl next to him was sound asleep. Her thoughts had no consistency, and so he lay down beside her, safe in that she would not awaken. The urge to sleep was strong, particularly with the bond between them, but he struggled with it. This was the only time he had yet dared to think about what the Dark Lord had told him to do.
Draco shivered at the memory. Though Voldemort's mouth had moved to Hermione's mission, in his mind, clear as a bell, he could hear the words, Protect her at all costs. If she can't see her mission through, you must do it. Also…kill Snape. He has been disloyal.
The words weighed heavily in his mind. The first task was not a problem. He would fight for her no matter what. The second bit was worrisome, but he refused to think about it. It was the third order that bothered him. Kill Professor Snape? The man who had been so kindly toward Draco since he'd come to the school? Impossible.
And necessary. Voldemort would know if Snape was not killed. Unless Draco leaned occlumency enough so that the Dark Lord could not read his mind, it was an impossible mission both to do and not to do. Oh, the insanity of the Dark Lord…
"Draco?" Hermione whispered. He shoved his orders to the very back of his mind.
"Yes?" He asked her. Her eyes were beautiful in the darkness, deep pools in the paleness of her face.
"Are you all right?" she asked him.
"Yeah," he reassured her, settling down on his side and wrapping his arm around her. The position was far more comforting than he had ever noticed it to be, and he found himself releasing the tension that his secret tasks had placed on him.
"I love you," she whispered, squirming closer.
Draco clutched her tighter. "I love you too," he answered back, closing his eyes. This time he let the exhaustion overtake him, and they slept.
Dumbledore sat in his office rubbing his temples. There was a beautiful sunrise outside, and he took the opportunity to appreciate it. His days were numbered, and he felt the immensity of it more than he wanted to. The lightening sky was decrepit, clouds like places where a bad paint job had peeled off. Someone had drawn on the walls under the cobalt blue paint of the sky, vivacious reds and bubbly purples and loud oranges. With a miserable sigh, the professor touched his wand to his head and took the memory out, placing it in his pensieve.
"Too much beauty," he murmured.
"Do you enjoy manipulating your students?" Phineas yelled as he came back into his picture frame. "Making Potter and Weasley dream of her? That is despicable! Can't you just let things be on their own!"
"And yet they still did not go to her on their own. Malfoy was a bad move, publicly, for her. But I think he'll be very useful in the long run," Dumbledore said calmly.
"You…you're just as bad as the Dark Lord," Phineas bellowed. The other portraits looked up in alarm, and a few even rushed over to try and shut him up. But the stubborn ex-headmaster would not be silenced, ducking and weaving through other frames until he got his point across. "Manipulating others until they bend to your will, dance to your tune, and what's worse is that you make them think that it's all their idea! You never admitted to them that you were sending them the dreams. You never admitted to them that you already knew everything that was going on!
"I saw you when she came in here to admit that she was working for the Dark Lord. That look of surprise on your face. And yet, you had known about it all along. You knew since the summer when she actually was initiated. It was like back in their first year, when you knew the three of them were figuring it all out, piece by piece. You did nothing, waiting for them to see it through.
"About the only thing you weren't expecting was them to go in while you were out on a trip, when you wouldn't be around to suddenly step out from behind your little shielding spell and reveal yourself and save them all. You are despicable!" Phineas finally stopped, huffing and out of breath. Five headmasters and three headmistresses piled on top of him, but the damage was done.
Albus Dumbledore looked sadly at Phineas. "You are perfectly right, on most counts. But I do it for a cause, Phineas. I am trying to rid the world of a man who seeks to destroy most of the population. What hurts more than the fact that you've just handed all my most shameful moments out to me on a platter is that I will die before my "tune" is ended, and all of my hopes are resting on the dancers to continue during that last prolonged note of it until it is ended with Voldemort's death," he murmured, turning away from the portrait in which nine headmasters and headmistresses were heaped atop each other, each of them staring at him in amazement.
Refusing to be so distressed in his last few weeks—if he even had that—Dumbledore took the memory of this conversation out and put it into the pensieve. He took out a piece of parchment from a drawer, with the words To Do at the top. He crossed off Meet with Order from the list and looked at the next task. Meet with staff.
"This will not be fun," he murmured. "But first…I need some sleep." Standing up made his whole body ache—he was too old to pull all-nighters anymore. But these last days I have are precious…so precious…I can't lose them just because I can't stay up all night and still be fine the next day like when I was young.
A week had passed, and everyone was waiting with bated breath. If the school was water, someone had dropped some muggle electronic into it. The staff was jumpy, as were a few particular students, and the paranoid, frightened mood was catching. Only four of the student body knew what was really going on, and the rest made up rumors just as quickly as fire can burn a dry grass field.
Hermione and Draco were tense, Harry and Ron were snapping at everyone, and between them all Ginny sat confused, for no one would tell her anything.
Two weeks now…Hermione and Draco rarely spoke to anyone, and their thoughts ran amok with one another, making for incomprehensible chains of thought. Teachers seemed angry with them and would kick them out of classrooms for fidgeting. This fed the wildfire of the students' rumors, and they all suspected that the odd couple had gotten caught having sex. Or worse, the rumors proclaimed.
Everything and everyone was falling apart.
February fourth was a bad day for them all. The teachers, already stressed, were slowly going mad. Hermione was given a week of detention from Professor McGonagall when she managed to correctly transfigure a watch into a bullfrog on her second try. Snape was so frazzled that during a potions class, he took more points away from Slytherin than from Gryffindor, and overcompensated when at lunch he found a fifth year Gryffindor reading in the library. He deducted 25 points for reading too loud, and when the student protested (truthfully) that she had been reading silently, he deducted another 75 for talking too loud in the library and arguing with a professor.
Professor Flitwick suggested using Cheering Charms on everyone, but with all the students happy and smiling at their next class, most teachers lashed out.
Even Orlando, good, trustworthy Professor Wood, fell prey to the tension. When a student in his class was bitten by a pixie, he told her to walk it off because at least it wasn't murdering her.
No one had reacted well to knowing that Dumbledore was going to die willingly, and prolonging it for two weeks had been torturous.
Hermione and Draco stumbled through classes and detentions so fast that Hermione was hard-pressed to do her homework.
"Just give it up!" Draco snarled at her when at one in the morning she was working furiously to finish up a two-foot charms essay. "They're going to fail you anyway for not dotting an i!" Face it, Granger, they all hate us, his thoughts whined furiously. She endured the momentary wave of hate that radiated from him and he felt ashamed by his outburst.
"Well maybe if you were doing your homework, you wouldn't already be failing!" I can't just give up! She shouted back into his mind. Thus ensued a cruel thought-war between them to see who could hurt the other more. In the end it was a draw as they climbed into bed exhausted and fell asleep, gratefully, in each other's arms.
February fifth dawned bright and early. Hermione was up, watching the sunrise. Waiting for the summons that hadn't come in the past two weeks. "I think," she told herself philosophically, "that this whole affair was made to drive me crazy."
Draco came in with breakfast right then and, sensing her miserable thoughts, promptly set the tray of food down on the table and slumped onto the hearthstones behind her. His arms wrapped around her, more comforting than the fire had been in the dewy sunrise. "Much as I don't want to do it at all, can I just kill him now and get it over with?" she whined.
Draco laughed humorlessly and leaned his head on her shoulder. His breath tickled her neck as he breathed, but he did not say anything. It was all right. Nothing he could have said would have reassured her that it was all going to be okay. What he did instead was more reassuring. He breathed warmly on her neck and kept his arms wrapped lovingly around her and his body protectively right up behind hers. "Always," he murmured, and she understood.
Classes were a living nightmare. Hermione just had yet to wake up. She kept the memory of how Draco felt wrapped around her in her mind and it made the whole thing minimally more tolerable. As soon as classes were over, she went straight back to the room of requirement, where Draco was waiting for her. She fell into his arms immediately, and had to give three sighs to encompass the troubles of the day.
Hermione was asleep within minutes. Draco shakily stood and carried her over to the bed. She was becoming gaunt, and carrying her was much too easy. "Love," he whined once he was next to her in the bed. "Please, don't kill yourself to do this." But she heard nothing, and her own thoughts held the frightful stillness of a deep sleep.
A burning pain in her left arm. Hermione sat up in bed immediately, rubbing her arm with her eyes wide with fear. Her back ached too, and she tried to clear her head of the pain. "Sorry," Draco whispered, and abruptly the pain was gone from her arm. The small of her back ached dully.
"What's going on?" she asked blearily.
"It's time," Draco said and got out of bed. He pulled on his Hogwarts robe and tied his shoes while still waiting for her to realize what was happening. While she was putting on her own shoes, he snatched the dragon dagger from under her pillow. She didn't notice and he tucked it into his belt. Just in case.
They walked through eerily silent halls. No one was active at this time of night, but there was a light shining under Orlando's door as they passed. They silently made their way to Dumbledore's office. The knock on the door sounded hollowly, and the headmaster's voice was unsettling as he called, "Come in," just as he always had.
"Ah, yes. So it's time now?" he asked as they entered. Hermione nodded, too choked up to speak. Professor McGonagall entered the room through a side door and stood severely behind his desk with him. Her lips were pursed, her eyes red-rimmed from crying.
"You realize what you're doing?" The older woman said coldly, and Hermione shook under her gaze, palms slippery against her wand.
"Now, now, Minerva," Dumbledore chided. Turning back to Hermione, he said, "Let me just take out my last thoughts, and then you can kill me, and then please paint." Draco felt queasy, and Hermione nodded
Professor McGonagall went ramrod straight. Her lips were pursed, her expression frozen as Dumbledore took out four tendrils of memory and put them into the pensieve. "I'm ready," he said, turning to her.
Hermione's hands shook and she pulled out her wand. Draco was rooted to the spot. Would she really manage to kill Dumbledore, one of the greatest wizards of the age? "Avada Kedavra," she whispered.
There was a short blast of green light, and it hit Dumbledore's stomach. He fell back and clutched the desk, looking up at Hermione with wide eyes. "You can't…he said hoarsely, "You can't cast an Unforgivable without the feeling behind it. I thought you knew that." His eyes were pained. Obviously the little blast had hurt him, but still was not enough to kill him.
"A-avada Kedavra," Hermione said frantically. I didn't mean to hurt him! Her thoughts screamed. Draco shuddered back to life and tried to take her thoughts upon himself but couldn't. He simply didn't have enough skill.
This green burst had the same effect, and Hermione was almost in tears as Dumbledore slumped to the floor, fully conscious and clearly hurting. With his back to the desk, he looked up at her pitifully, and her wand dropped to the floor. "Finish it," he said harshly.
Abruptly, Draco knew what to do. He pulled out the dagger that he had tucked into his belt and handed it hilt-first to Hermione. His thoughts jostled against hers enough that she turned around and saw what he held in his hand. Trembling, she reached for it and took the dragon dagger in her hand. There was no mistaking the relief on Dumbledore's face.
Hermione knelt by her beloved professor and leaned over him to hold the blade to his throat. "I'm sorry," she whimpered. His blue eyes peered at her behind half-moon spectacles for one time. The last time. Hermione steeled herself and whisked the blade across his throat.
Blood. Too much blood. This was worse then Louis Frunge, worse because Dumbledore had done nothing wrong. Hermione freaked out. "No!" she yelled, dropping the blade. She suddenly wanted very much not to have done that as she held her hands to his throat, trying to keep the blood in. Dumbledore gargled a sigh and blood dribbled from his mouth. Hermione held his throat crazily, trying to keep in all that blood…
"Professor!" Draco squealed. McGonagall, who had been immobilized by Dumbledore's wand-less spell, was now trying to get at Hermione. Draco was now grappling with her, trying in any way he could to keep her from Hermione. "He was willing!" Draco grunted. Hermione picked up the dagger and stood up so that they could get out of there and let Professor McGonagall have time to cool off.
After that, everything happened very fast. The door burst open and Snape rushed in, letting out a cry of shock to see blood all over Dumbledore and on Hermione, whose back was to him. Draco pulled his wand and immobilized Professor McGonagall. Snape covered the room in three large strides, but Hermione looked up at the noise of the door slamming against the wall and turned around.
The dagger was held out straight in front of her, and Snape walked straight into the sharp steel. Hermione shrieked as the man collapsed onto her and fell over Dumbledore's legs. Snape fell on top of her, and the dragon hilt jammed into her hip, driving the blade deep into the stomach of the head of Slytherin house.
Draco scrambled to get the professor off of her, but it was too late. Snape was dead. "I didn't mean to," Hermione stammered. "He walked right into it! I swear…" her eyes were wide and scared.
Professor McGonagall was standing with her eyes just as wide and wild as Hermione's. She had dis-immobilized herself wand-lessly but had been too shocked by what was happening to move.
It was McGonagall who spoke at last into the silence of the room. "What have you done?"
Neither teenager could find the words to answer her.
Be strong when things fall apart,
(Be strong when things fall apart)
Honest, this breaks my heart
It's so hard…
—Blink 182, "Please Take Me Home"
Spastic Asian: Um...I never really had a set time for exactly when the CB was made. But sometime in the two days where they were being...(pardon) S & M-y. I would agree that it may have begun when she cut herself, but I think I...er...the "book" said that both people had to be feeling the pain. Or something. My own thoughts on the subject are muddled, because I changed my mind so many times on just what exactly I was to say about it.
