1. How to get to Sirius's Edge, and not another or my own.
2. How to safely pass to and from the Edge…through the Veil? Also not dying permanently or getting tapped there.
3. How to bring Sirius back with me. Alive.
At the sound of the library doors creaking, Hermione quickly folded the parchment and tucked it under a book. The coffee tray set for two had arrived just moments before. Hermione played with her quill, smiling lightly as Lucius greeted her. He took the seat across from her without pause, before pouring them both a steaming cup from the porcelain carafe.
"Cream and sugar?"
"Both, please."
Hermione watched him pick up the little silver pitcher, then as he nimbly plucked out two sugar cubes from the bowl and dropped them with a plunk into her coffee. When he slid it in front of her, Hermione took a small sip. Lucius did the same. Their teacups clinked back into their saucers.
"Busy night?" Lucius asked, finally breaking the silence. He waved at her books.
Hermione set her irked stare on the stack. "Yes, though not much has come of it so far. I know the direction of the research, but it's as if I remain torch-less in the woods. The moon casts a general glow, but it doesn't help me see far beyond the closest trees."
Lucius met her eyes over his teacup, before setting it slowly down. "Perhaps you need to cut down some trees."
Her eyes widened—she had been so focused on her newest three questions, so overwhelmed with the possibilities for each, that she hadn't considered writing down what wouldn't work. Her research so far had been all over the place due to the evasive nature of her pursuit. She'd spent so much time wandering down plausible paths, that she hadn't traveled one direction very far at all. "You're quite good at this, you know." His eyebrow arched in question. "Mentoring," she elaborated.
A smirk crossed his face. "And here I thought we were pursing elicit friendship."
She drank to hide her blush. "That too," she said quietly. "You could be a professor. Defense, maybe."
He chuckled. "You'd have a Death Eater in a classroom, teaching boggarts to third years? Half the room would be seeing double."
"I think you underestimate the mundanity of most peoples' fears," Hermione said, her mind conjuring the image of her own encounter with the boggart.
"And what did little Hermione Granger have to face?"
"Failing grades from Professor McGonagall."
His smile broadened. "My, my, now that would be something fearsome. Tell me," he said, leaning back in his chair, "What would you see now in the boggart?"
Hermione's eyes flicked over his waiting face, the light in his grey eyes. She swallowed a scathing sip of coffee. "A life where I am surrounded by others, yet alone. Perhaps…perhaps we are not so different in that," she said hesitantly.
His gaze softened. "Perhaps not." Lucius cleared his throat, then set his half-drained cup back on the tray. "I will let you get back to your work." He left without another word, leaving her alone with this revelation finally said aloud. A revelation for both of them, it seemed.
A couple hours later, Hermione was flying through a journal account of an early twentieth-century Irish wizard, Cian Foley. She had narrowed in on the goal of researching potions that worked on two people simultaneously. Her hope, however cursory, was that there existed some method of linking her soul to Sirius's. What she found, however, was even better than she could have imagined.
My love has asked me to join in his hallucinations provided by the Kaleidoscopic Potion. At first, I told Danny this was impossible—no wizard, no matter how strong, is capable of joining minds by any light magic. Oh, how wrong I was, and how glorious the sharing was soon to be!
I call it mind apparition, because I am not clever enough to think of a better name. Like physical apparition, the three objectives are of utmost importance, yet altered slightly.
Destination: How may one visit another's hallucination destination? Why, through the pensive of course! Danny plucked a previous trip from his mind to share with me. After viewing his memory, I knew exactly where to set my mind's compass to.
Determination: With any great love, there is a great want to join him.
Deliberation: I have to be in close magical connection with Danny, in order to mentally apparate into his hallucination. Touching Danny provided this, though I propose that other methods such as touching an object imbued with the partner's essence may suffice.
The entry continued on, describing Foley's…intimate encounter that took place inside his lover's hallucination. Heart thumping madly, Hermione called out, "Accio One-Hundered Illicit Potions and How to Brew Them," then watched the heavy tome fly onto her desk. She flipped to the page on the Kaleidoscopic potion, her grin spreading as she read.
The Kaleidoscopic Potion (circa 1864), transports the taker's soul into the Kaleidoscopic Realm, a place outside time and space. While ordinary hallucinations conjure physical realities in the taker's subconscious, the Kaleidoscopic Potion always brings the taker to the same immaterial, yet unchangeable, location. See next page for side effects, brewing, and dosage.
She sat back, staring at the book in a daze. This had to be it—this mental apparition was the first piece of the puzzle. The Edge and the Kaleidoscopic Realm were too similar for Foley's method to not work. Merlin, I hope.
Hermione took out her parchment from earlier, charming the second two steps to slide further down the page so she could write more.
1: How to get to Sirius's Edge, and not another or my own.
Foley's Mental Apparition:
1A. Destination – Find out where exactly Sirius's Edge is. Talk to Harry – his Edge was King's Cross, and others recalled transient spaces. Sound of water?
1B. Determination. Admit you are in love with Sirius Black…
1C. Deliberation. Find an object imbued with Sirius's essence. Bedroom?
Hermione smiled down at the parchment, tracing her finger over the next three steps. At this rate, she might have Sirius back before the winter was even over.
Her next course of action was to speak to Harry about the specifics of his Edge, but her excitement was quickly cut down when she learned from a note on the fridge that Harry was gone until the Monday after New Year's. Ron, unfortunately, would be home in time to ring in 1999.
Wonderful.
Her Wednesday trip to the library proved fruitless, and her conversation with Lucius more stilted than usual. She wondered if the impending new year was bothering him, like it was her. Calendar changes were so final. The new year always devastated the illusion that time was only trickling by. During the war, Hermione had longed for these calendar changes, praying for the next day when her world and loved ones would be free. Now, she dreaded them. Dreaded getting older, sinking deeper into the only life she knew.
Soon, she prayed, that would all change.
On Thursday during her lunch break, Hermione wandered up to the Ministry's owlery. She sent a note to Lucius telling him she'd apparate or floo directly to the manor Friday morning, if he allowed it. They had work off at the Ministry, and she hoped to get in a whole day's worth of research rather than just the evening. Tonight, Ron was throwing a New Year's Eve party, and though she had half a mind not to attend, she knew it was best to ease the tension between them. Pretend all was normal. Not like she was living with her ex-boyfriend roommate, walking on eggshells on her way to breakfast.
After a short day of work on Thursday, Hermione flooed home to find Luna in the sitting room, reading a magazine. "Hey Luna," Hermione said, as Luna looked up from the couch.
"Oh hello, Hermione. Looking forward to the party?"
Hermione smiled. It felt more like a grimace. "Not sure I'm one for parties anymore."
"There's only one mistletoe lurking in the house, in case that was your worry." She smiled fondly, her pale cheeks blooming with pink. "Charlie and I made it our mission to find them this afternoon."
Well that was relief. "The boys are already here then? Minus Harry, of course."
Luna tilted her head, studying Hermione for a long moment. "Ron and Ginny went out to pick up champagne from the Leaky."
"Oh. Right. He's not bringing a date, is he?"
"The French girl? Charlie told me about her. No, I believe they broke things off."
"Ah, well…see you later?" She eyed Luna's outfit of shimmering silver. "I could use help picking out a dress, if you and Ginny fancy lending me some of your fashion sense." Although she didn't mind her Ministry-approved wardrobe, other than the stockings, wool and plaid got terribly old after a while.
Luna grinned. "I'll find you once Ginny's home."
Hermione wandered up to her room, briefly glancing into her closet before resolutely shutting the door. She'd save that step for later.
Nerves fluttered a bit in her stomach as she sprawled out on her bed, letting her muscles relax into the mattress. Parties in the Gryffindor common room usually hadn't ended well, at least for her. And this one, hosted by Ron, would likely be the same crowd. Hermione had little hope that her peers had matured very much in the months since school. Even a war could not satiate most of her friends and acquaintances' appetite for a raucous party. If the stories Ginny and Harry told about the parties they attended were true, then half the crowd would be blackout drunk on fire whiskey before the new year even started.
Maybe she should give it a go. She didn't even have to get to Lucius's too early tomorrow, if she was hungover. She didn't have to spend Friday at the library at all, really. Her research seemed stagnant until she spoke more to Harry, and she highly doubted Lucius fancied spending his New Year's with her.
Though he did enjoy my visit at Christmas…
Hermione sat up, pushing the thoughts of research and Lucius aside. She was nineteen. It was New Year's Eve. She could party however she liked.
A few hours later, and Hermione was standing at the mirror in the third floor bathroom. Ginny stood beside her, applying makeup with careful precision. Luna sat on the closed toilet, painting her nails a glittering red.
Hermione met her own eye in the mirror. She looked…hot. An adjective not usually applied to Hermione Granger. But just because it was new, didn't mean she didn't like it. Luna had coaxed her hair straight, the light brown locks spilling down her back like a glossy waterfall. Ginny had worked her magic with the makeup, painting Hermione's eyes in shades of silver and green, to bring out her eyes, and her lips a deep burgundy. And the dress—Hermione twisted, watching the way the black velvet clung to her hips. A high collar pressed into her throat, but with the low-dipped back and mid-thigh hemline, the dress was anything but modest. Then again, it had come from Ginny's closet.
Ginny snapped a lipstick tube shut and grinned at the three of them. "You two look fit. Ron and Charlie are going to freak."
Hermione spun on Ginny. "Ron? What—what do you mean?" Ginny bit her lip, looking decidedly unhelpful. "Luna?"
"I believe Ginny is referencing his breakup with the French girl. Most of us have deduced that he wishes to kiss you at midnight and make up."
"Make up? Most of us?" Hermione sputtered. She slid her hands through her silky hair. "Does everyone know?"
"Not Harry," Luna offered. "Though he is in France."
Hermione groaned and leaned back against the bathroom door. "I can't look like this when I see Ron. He'll…he'll think I'm trying to seduce him!"
"Are you?" Ginny asked simply.
"Merlin, no!"
Ginny shrugged back her curled hair and took Hermione by the shoulders. "Then who. The fuck. Cares? Ron can limp around with a semi all night, and it wouldn't matter. You, Hermione," she said, forcefully spinning her around and pushing open the door, "are going to walk out there like you own the place, you're gonna snog whichever boy you fancy, and Ron's just gonna have to deal." She gave her a push, and Hermione stumbled forward on her black pumps.
To Hermione's relief, it was quite hard to even spot Ron through the crowd of young Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws. Apparently he had invited everyone their age plus the year below—some of the girls, Hermione was pretty sure, even looked like sixth years. The Prefect in her urged Hermione to grab their hands and drag them back to their parents. Or to Hogwarts detention, for that matter. Good thing Prefect Hermione was long, long gone.
Muggle music pounded in the darkness of Grimmauld Place, and colored lights flew around the rooms, spinning and bursting with magic. After grabbing drinks from the bartending Parvati and Justin, Hermione slunk out into the sitting room-turned dance floor and pressed herself into the writhing crowd. Beside her, Luna threw herself into Charlie's waiting arms.
"This is fun!" Hermione cried, flinging her hands around Ginny's neck, laughing when Luna pressed onto her tiptoes to kiss her boyfriend.
Ginny smirked as she swung her hips to the beat of the music. "You? Fun?"
"I'm not that boring!"
"Don't you do research after work?"
Hermione grinned as they spun, both giggling. "Yeah, but that's fun too," she insisted, her mouth against Ginny's ear. "Lucius is surprisingly fun."
Ginny's chuckle was hot against her temple. "Lucius, is it? I've been thinking more about your…situation. How he's changed. Supposedly. How you've changed. And you know what?
"What?"
"That's fucking hot."
Hermione flushed. The music pounded all around them. "I—he's not—"
"Hermione!"
"What?"
"Live a little." With that, Ginny downed her drink, threw the cup to the ground, then tipped Hermione's to her lips. She drank obediently, head swimming as the fast-acting champagne rushed down her throat. The bubbles burned, but oh how good it felt when they roiled inside her. As the champagne flooded her veins, and the music cranked up and up and up, Hermione let herself be pulled deeper into the crowd. Bodies squeezed and sweated, hands slipped over her skin—Ginny's, Luna's, someone who looked like Seamus with a fire-engine-red mohawk. And through the thicket of dance and laughter and song, Ron met her eyes. She smiled, and he glared, and she didn't care one fucking bit.
Live a little.
Some indistinguishable time later, Hermione found herself on a couch in the formal sitting room. A cup of sweet liquid in one hand, her legs stretched over the laps of both Luna and Charlie, who seemed quite content on ignoring her in favor of snogging. She supposed she should get up. Friends didn't put legs on friends while friends were snogging.
Hermione swallowed the rest of her drink, set it on an antique end table, and rose unsteadily to her feet. Thank Merlin for cushioning charms, or the heels would have come off ages ago. Would have been a shame. Ginny was right. She looked hot. The heels stayed on until she landed on her face. Shouldn't there be a…balancing charm? There should be a balancing charm…Hermione froze at the threshold. She glanced up, cursing when she spotted the leafy sprig. Hermione tried to step forward, but the magic kept her feet locked into place. Fucking George and his fucking mistletoe. Through the open doorway to the other sitting room, she could see the party still raging on. No one was looking her way, though. Is George here? He should be here. Should kiss me for his fucking mistletoe.
She craned her neck, searching the party. Her eyes landed on Ron, snogging Lavender Brown. Hermione grinned sloppily, one hand on the doorway as she watched. Good for them. Keep each other happy. So happy.
Hermione glanced back at Luna and Charlie, but both were so busy sucking the other's face off, it felt rude to interrupt. She sighed. Sirius would kiss me. So would Lucius.
Merlin, she really was drunk.
Hermione swayed, twisting to face down the hallway. Just as she turned, her eyes locked on George's. "You arse!" she hollered, fury rising as a knowing grin spread over his pink face. "Come help me!"
George practically skipped over, more gangly than usual. A champagne bottle swung from one hand. "You're a fetching sight! Feeling a bit stuck? No Ronnykins to help you out?"
She tried to stamp her foot, but the spell kept it glued to the floor. "Just do it!"
"Do what?" he said, eyes widening.
"Kiss me," she ground out.
George's face flew in both directions. "Hear that boys and girls? Granger wants a kiss from George!" A few heads inside the dance room turned. A lone cheer whooped.
"George!"
"All right, all right, don't get your knickers in a twist." George thrust the bottle into her hands, grabbed her face, and planted a sloppy, wet kiss on her mouth. Hermione leaned in, just a tad, before wrenching away. The charm unlocked, and Hermione had to catch herself on George's chest to keep from stumbling to the floor.
"I don't like you," she grumbled, yanking down her hem.
"Love you too, sis."
"First, you're disgusting. And second—not your sis anymore," she said, eyeing the back of Ron's head.
George turned and followed her gaze. "All the same to me, Granger," he said, clapping her on the back. "Good snog. Let me know if you require further assistance, yeah?"
Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed past him. George reached for the champagne, but she darted away. "Keeping this!" she called back, hips swinging as she strode away with the bottle held high.
When the remaining champagne had been drained, and her vision swimming, Hermione found herself in kitchen, alone and slumped into a chair. A pair of boys had stumbled in, all hands and mouths and laughter, before abruptly apologizing. She told them to find a room. She prayed the wouldn't find hers. Or Sirius's.
Sirius. It would feel so…so good to be kissed. Not even midnight. Any time, to be kissed. By Sirius. By Lucius.
Lucius?
She should visit, like Christmas. He liked that. She liked it too.
Head swirling, Hermione stumbled towards the fireplace. She grabbed a too-large handful of floo powder, clambered inside, and slurred, "Malfoy Manor," to the pretty green flames.
To her shock, the manor's back parlor swam around her as she wobbled out of the fireplace. She had been expecting the floo to be barred without Lucius. Had he opened it to her? Thought she'd visit, like Christmas? For tomorrow, probably.
Her heels were too loud as she meandered towards the library. Her head hurt. Pounded. Will Lucius be up still? Fifteen to midnight. Fifteen to a New Year's kiss. Not with Sirius. Not yet. But…
She passed the library and opened the door to the study, not knocking, not hesitating. Her face fell when she found it empty. Oh.
"Hermione?"
She whirled around, loosing her balance until a strong hand steadied her. Hermione clutched at the arm and gazed back at Lucius. Hair framed his face. Ribbons of pale silk. She wanted to touch. A hand came up, then drew back. Bad idea. "Hello," she said, blinking.
"Are you hurt?" He sounded so concerned. Looked it, too. Was odd, on a man like him.
She giggled. "Not one bit," she said with a lazy grin.
He seemed to really look at her for the first time. Eyes roamed down her body. His jaw clenched. Maybe he thought she looked hot too. "I forgot how young people celebrated the new year," he murmured, his arm pulling back. Hermione longed for the touch. Pressed herself against the wall instead. "How much did you drink?" he asked, meeting her eyes again. Silver flashed.
"One."
"One drink?"
She pursed her lips, wracking her brain. The memories were too bright. Her teeth too numb. Couldn't remember with her teeth numb. "One bottle, total, perhaps. Perhaps." A lock of hair fell against her sticky cheek. He stared at it. Stared long. Silence built.
Lucius sighed, then smirked. "You'll live. Barely," he chided. "Fisby!"
The elf appeared with a wonderful pop! "Yes, Master Malfoy?"
"Escort Miss Granger back to the floo. See that she makes it home to…"
"Grimm…Grimmauld Place," Hermione slurred, before her eyes widened. "No, don't want to go back to the party."
"Fine, then Fisby, set up a room—"
"No, I shouldn't…shouldn't stay. Ginny and Luna…they'll worry."
Lucius breathed out, his breath hot on her skin. He glanced at Fisby then back to her. "You'll feel better sleeping it off. Trust me, Hermione, I've been in your place."
She shook her head. Hair swinging, vision blurring. "Back, then," she relented. "But not the party…" She faintly heard him dismissing Fisby, before a hand found her chin. Lucius. A finger under her chin, making her look. Look into that silver. So unusually warm. Molten.
Almost midnight.
"Let me take you home, if you won't stay here."
She nodded. He let her go, tried to urge her forward by the hand. The hallway flipped violently, and she gasped, reaching out for the wall. Two hands came for her. "I can…I can walk. Capable of walking."
He ignored her. With one arm beneath her knees, and the other behind her back, he scooped her into his arms. Her face pressed into his shoulder. Smelled like…fire whiskey and books. She drank him in, blushing furiously when her attention shifted to his hands on her bare skin. Crook of her knees. Curve of her spine. "I'd rather you not break a bone in my house, Hermione," he scolded, as he carried her down the hall. "I imagine your friends might start to take issue with you coming here."
"Wouldn't want that," she mumbled into his shirt. His chuckle vibrated through her.
They were in the parlor before she knew it, in the flames seconds later. A terrifying woosh, then an empty kitchen wobbled around her. Thank Merlin. When Lucius seemed to pause, she muttered, "Upstairs."
Music pounded, but her head pounded more. He walked so quickly, steps pounding up the stairs. Arms wrapped tight so she wouldn't fall. He stilled and asked in a low voice, "Where to?"
Hermione lifted her eyes from his chest. They drifted over the next staircase before settling on the door at the end. "There," she said, pointing.
Lucius carried her forwards. Wood creaked. He breathed against her hair.
Almost midnight.
Inside, the room was dark. Only moonlight, shafting in like silver. Like his eyes. A mattress came up to meet her, then the arms and touch were gone. She lifted her head up. Brain felt like wool. She squinted at Lucius, still standing in the room. Foot of the bed. Eyes on the open closet. "This is your room?" he asked quietly.
Hermione sank back into mattress. The feathers drank her in. "Not yet," she breathed out.
Footsteps. A man, crouching. Fingers on her hair. Pushing it back. Warm. Real. Sirius? "Happy New Year, Hermione," Sirius whispered.
Her eyelids fell closed, too heavy to prop open. "Happy New Year," she whispered back. "You'll kiss me at midnight?"
A low chuckle. Fingers slid away. "If you're awake then."
"I…I will be."
The world faded away before she could keep that promise.