Chapter Eleven

It was supposed to be an ordinary day. No indications that Draco's life was about to be irrevocably disturbed presented themselves as he organized the back stockroom. He had a decent night's sleep and a normal breakfast. Hermione hadn't come out of her bedroom before he left the flat, but that wasn't unusual. Borgin and Burkes opened later in the morning than The Magic Chicory. Often she took advantage of the extra time to sleep a little later, especially if she'd been up late the night before with her books. Nothing was out of place when he walked down Knockturn Alley. His grandfather hadn't followed him since the day they spoke in The Leaky Cauldron. He had no reason to suspect anything at all was amiss.

The first screams were far enough away from the greengrocer that he initially thought he was mishearing them. Sound sometimes traveled funny though the London shopping district. When he heard them again and they began to get louder, he knew he wasn't going insane. He dropped the box he was holding to rush into the main part of the store where he could see what was happening outside.

Miss Doris was already standing in front of one of the shop's large windows watching the chaos unfold. He was about to ask where the screams were coming from when he saw the first terrified shoppers run past the shop. There was a panic outside. People all over Diagon Alley were running to get away from something, many of them tripping and falling in the process. The anti-Apparition wards that were in place all over the different Alleys to prevent theft kept those fleeing from just leaving right where they stood.

"What's happening, Miss Doris?"

"I haven't the foggiest. The screaming just started and then they began running."

"I'm going to stop someone and ask."

"Please be careful, Draco."

Stepping outside into the bedlam was a jarring experience. It reminded Draco far too much of the fear and chaos he experienced during that horrible battle at Hogwarts. Was it something just as sinister? 1965 was soon coming to an end but he knew the violence of the first wizarding war was still many years away. Had their presence in the past managed to alter the timeline enough to start it earlier? Pushing away his dread for a moment, he grabbed the arm of a panicked wizard, begging him to explain what was happening.

"Someone's cast Fiendfyre in Knockturn Alley and it's spreading."

He felt as if he'd just been punched in the stomach.

"Specifically where? Where did it start?"

"Borgin and Burkes is nothing but ash."

Draco's legs were already running towards Knockturn Alley before his mind managed to catch up. With a crowd of terrified people trying to exit Knockturn Alley, it was nearly impossible for him to get in. Only his determination and willingness to use his elbows got him past the crush. He was frantic. Was Hermione inside the shop when it burned? Fiendfyre was a thousand times more unpredictable and dangerous than normal fire. He was terrified that he was going to find her dead. What would he do then? Even as grumpy and unpleasant as she'd been, he'd gotten used to having her around.

If he thought there was chaos in Diagon Alley, that was nothing compared to what he found waiting for him in Knockturn Alley. Mercifully, someone was able to stop the fiendfyre, but the damage was extensive. He nearly threw up when he saw where the shop and their tiny attic flat used to be. There was no possible way Hermione could've survived if she was unable to exit the shop in time. Memories of Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement and knowing Vince was dead pushed to the front of his mind. He couldn't lose another person he cared about to such a horrific death.

Not ready to give up, Draco turned his attention to the crowd gathered in the Alley. She could've gotten out. Hadn't she already proven time and time again that she was a survivor? He screamed out her full name over and over hoping she could hear him over the din. Desperate to find some trace of her, he resorted to pushing and shoving bystanders out of his way.

A couple of minutes that seemed like an eternity passed before he saw the back of her head. There was no question it was her. He exhaled in relief and rushed towards where she stood.

"Hermione!"

She stared at a hooded wizard he didn't recognize. Not caring one bit he might be interrupting something, Draco yelled out her full name again. That time she turned around. She looked absolutely terrified out of her mind. After what she must have gone through, he couldn't imagine how scared she must have been. He pushed aside the last few gawkers blocking his path to her, ignoring their profanity and shouts of anger.

Hermione threw her arms around Draco when he was near, thoroughly shocking him in the process. It wasn't like her to be so affectionate, especially with him. He didn't really mind. Maybe he would've in the past, but he'd grown up since then. He wrapped his arms around her to hug her tightly. Her entire body trembled.

"It's all right, Hermione. You're safe now."

The hooded wizard stared at them. Even though Draco didn't know the wizard's identity or purpose for being there, he felt unnerved. There was nothing he wanted to do more than get far away from the wizard and the burned out shell of his former home.

"Let's go somewhere warm. We shouldn't stand outside. You don't even have your cloak on."

Instead of arguing with his suggestion as he half-expected, Hermione nodded and reached for his hand. He took charge leading her out of Knockturn Alley. The first place he could think of was back inside The Magic Chicory.

"Oh, dear, sit here. Drink this. It'll help."

Miss Doris was informed by one of their regular customers what the panic was all about in the time since Draco ran off. When she saw them both enter her shop, she nearly cried in relief. At once she pushed a hot cup of tea into Hermione's hands and gently pulled Draco away by the arm to speak privately.

"Tea will only go so far after the shock she's had. Take her to the Leaky and get her something stronger for her nerves. Take the rest of the day off."

She pushed a galleon into his hand with an expression that just dared him to argue. For such a kind woman, he knew he never wanted to be on her bad side. As soon as Hermione drank the last of her tea, he suggested they go. Again Hermione reached for his hand and wouldn't let go.

There was an excitement inside The Leaky Cauldron that made Draco wish he'd just Apparated them to The Hog's Head instead. All anyone could talk about was what happened in Knockturn Alley. He led her to an empty table in a quiet corner before he ordered their drinks. When he finally placed the glass of fire whiskey in front of her, he worried he wasn't going to be able to remain patient and calm as he promised himself he would.

It was evident to anyone with a working set of eyes that she was badly shaken. He was anxious to know all of the details of her ordeal at once. Hermione was in no rush to give him any explanation. For several minutes she sipped at her glass and appeared to be reminding herself how to breathe. The woman could be maddening. He knocked back the rest of his glass and rose to order another.

When he returned to the table she no longer sipped at her half-full glass. Her eyes were wide and her hand was shaking again. She didn't even seem to notice he'd come back nor did she seem to hear him when he asked if she was all right.

Draco followed where her eyes were focused. On the other side of the room the wizard from Knockturn Alley stared. Who was he? Did he follow them there? What did he want? He wanted to get them away from the mysterious wizard again.

Maybe he should've confronted the man, demanded to know what he wanted, but he was no Gryffindor. Reckless bravery wasn't something he was familiar with. Self-preservation was far more important. Instead of behaving like Potter or one of the blasted Weasleys, Draco requested a room from Tom the proprietor. He could feel the wizard watching his every move up until the moment he disappeared up the stairs with Hermione.

The very instant Draco closed the door to their room Hermione burst into tears. Unsure what to do for the distraught woman, he offered her a handkerchief and pat her shoulder. For the second time that day, she threw her arms around him. She only cried harder. He was desperate to know why she was so upset. Sure, the fire must have been frightening, but there was a lot more going on.

"Wait just a moment, Hermione."

He thought he heard a noise in the corridor outside their door. Were they followed? There was no one he could see when he opened the door, but he wasn't convinced they were alone. Feeling paranoid, he closed the door and coated the entire room with powerful silencing spells.

"Hermione, what happened? Who was that man staring at us? Why does he scare you so much?"

His patience had run out. He wanted answers.

"You don't recognize him?"

"No. Should I?"

"His name is Tom Riddle. You know him as the Dark Lord."

Again he felt sick. It had been his somewhat naïve hope that he could stay out of the Dark Lord's notice in the past. Knowing how interested he'd been in staring at them, that hope seemed impossible.

Talking helped Hermione calm down a little. She reached into the beaded bag he knew she always carried. Unsure what she could be searching for, he was startled when she placed all of the money he'd been saving in his hand. Forgetting the fact that he was nearly positive he hid it well in his bedroom, he didn't understand how she was able to recover it.

"If everything happened so quickly with the fiendfyre, how did you have time to get this?"

It wasn't his intention to sound so accusatory. He simply blurted out the question without much thought. Hermione burst into more tears again. At least he could see she was a little more like her usual self. How many times did he see her cry at Hogwarts or walk up on her somewhere hidden in the castle? Because she'd clearly had a difficult day, he didn't order her to quit her blubbering no matter how tempted he felt. Thankfully, she didn't cry long. Once she managed to compose herself somewhat, she added more privacy spells to the ones he already cast.

"Draco, I… I'm the one who cast fiendfyre."

He nearly rolled his eyes. Did she think he was stupid?

"I wish I could say I'm surprised, but I'm not. Why would you do something so foolish?"

"To destroy Borgin's body and the evidence I killed him."

Her answer was nothing like he expected. To describe him as shocked was an understatement. Given a hundred years to guess her motive, he wasn't sure he could. What exactly happened in that shop every day when he left for work?

"I wasn't careful. I let my mind wander and before I realized what was happening, Borgin had me trapped against a shelf."

He could feel his blood pressure begin to rise.

"The bastard threatened us both. He said he'd been hiding illegal and stolen items in your bedroom for months. He was going to have you arrested unless I agreed to have sex with him until he was bored with me."

Of course he'd suspected Borgin was a nasty creature who would resort to trickery to get what he wanted, but Draco never suspected he would go that far. He was glad Borgin was already dead. If he wasn't, Draco would be happy to make it happen painfully.

"It all happened so fast. I stood there trying to decide if I could go through with it to protect you, but…"

"What? You thought about it?"

Hermione's cheeks flamed scarlet and she could no longer look him in the eye.

"Of course I did. He wanted to frame you and put you in prison. I couldn't let that happen."

"No, Hermione. That's too much. You shouldn't have even thought about it for a second."

Her eyes shot up to meet his. There was a fury in them that nearly made him gasp.

"It's my body, Malfoy. If I chose to use it to keep you out of prison, that's my decision. Not anyone else's."

Even he wasn't about to argue. She calmed only slightly.

"He put his hand down my skirt and I panicked. I hit him as hard as I could in the nose with the back of my head. He was irate. Screamed at me and told me he wasn't going to be gentle with me, that he was going to make me regret fighting back. When he tried to grab me again, I cast a blasting spell. Maybe I used too much force. He flew backwards and hit his head on one of those gold statues. He must've died instantly. The back of his head was nothing but mush."

Draco's lips curved into a smile. It was wrong to celebrate a man's panful demise, but he couldn't help it. She was bloody brilliant. His first reaction was to grab the witch, pull her close, and press his mouth against hers.

Almost at once he worried he'd done something wrong. She froze against him. Even though she didn't gasp or push him away, it was awkward. Only a short time earlier she defended herself against a man's unwanted advances. Was Draco just as guilty? He pulled back and cleared his throat, but he didn't apologize. He refused to apologize for something he didn't regret. If it was possible, Hermione's complexion turned an even brighter shade of red. She stepped backwards and immediately started rambling, just as she usually did when she was nervous. Draco tried not to take it personally. His timing could've been better.

"Igor taught me how to cast fiendfyre. I used Borgin's wand to cast it so if mine was checked no one would know. I threw it into the flames before I ran out."

"Why fiendfyre? Regular fire could've destroyed the evidence. The number of candles he always had burning in that cramped shop was a fire just waiting to happen. It could've easily been explained away as an accident."

"Yes, but only fiendfyre destroys horcruxes."

Perhaps he'd been too hasty to bring her to The Leaky Cauldron instead of taking her straight to St. Mungo's. She could've been seriously harmed in her ordeal. Not all injuries were visible to the naked eye. Head wounds left untreated could be fatal. She wasn't making any sense and he didn't understand what she was trying to tell him.

"Do you know what a horcrux is, Draco?"

He shook his head. Was she just making up nonsensical words now? Was that a symptom of a traumatic brain injury? He couldn't remember.

"I'm not surprised. Most people have never heard of them. They're evil and disgusting. In order to create one, you have to commit a murder and that's only the beginning."

"Hermione, did Borgin hurt you? Do you need me to take you to a Healer?"

"No, Draco. I'm fine. Horcruxes are real. I didn't hit my head if that's what you're worried about."

Six months in the past together taught them a lot about the other. He looked in her eyes for any sign she was confused or telling him a lie. Deciding that once again he needed to trust her, he sighed.

"All right. Tell me what a horcrux is."

"It's a terrible object that an evil person can hide a piece of their soul in so they essentially become immortal. You can destroy their body, but if their horcrux is undamaged, they don't really die."

He wasn't sure what to think. Maybe he was the one to hit his head and he hadn't realized it yet. He tried to recall any instance where he might have heard that word, but he couldn't. Even with both sides of his family fairly open about using dark magic he had never known such an item existed. It sounded horrific. How did Hermione know about them?

"Voldemort created several. No one else had ever created more than one before, but he wanted seven. That's why he couldn't die when he attacked the Potters."

"But he did die at Hogwarts. I saw the body. We all saw the body."

"Yes, because Harry destroyed the horcruxes with help. That's what we were doing when we didn't go back to Hogwarts. We were hunting them. We found them."

More than once since their time in the past began Draco brought up the subject of their seventh year. He had been curious where she went with Potter and Weasley, what they were doing. The night they were captured and his wretched bitch of an aunt tortured her in his home could never be forgotten no matter how hard he tried. Sometimes he still had nightmares. If what she was saying was the truth, and he had less reason to doubt her the more she explained, then Potter and his little mates really did kill the Dark Lord. It wasn't a case of blind, stupid luck as he always assumed it was. He hated feeling any amount of respect for Potter. It felt weird.

"Professor Dumbledore destroyed one. It was an old family ring he found in the ruins of Voldemort's mother's childhood home. He liked to hide them in significant places. Because they are a piece of his soul, Voldemort used curses to keep them protected if he hid them in less secure places. Do you remember how shriveled and dead Professor Dumbledore's arm looked before he died?"

Draco nodded, unsure of what to say. Remembering the Headmaster was never easy. Likely for the rest of his life he would regret the part he played in the man's death.

"When he found the ring, Professor Dumbledore put it on. He knew he shouldn't, but the temptation was too great. Professor Snape was able to keep the curse from spreading too rapidly, but he couldn't keep it from killing him entirely."

"No, Professor Snape killed Dumbledore. I was there. I saw it with my own eyes. It wasn't the curse."

She placed a gentle hand on his arm. He appreciated the attempt to comfort him, but that didn't mean she was right. His failure to kill Dumbledore was why Professor Snape had to step in. No one, especially not the Dark Lord, ever expected him to be able to succeed. He was nothing to his former master but a pawn he could use to punish his father for his repeated failures.

"Professor Snape killing Professor Dumbledore was a kindness. For both Dumbledore and for you. He was already dying. There was nothing that could save him. He begged Professor Snape to kill him."

In only a few sentences she gave him a lot of information he wasn't sure he was ready to fully digest. Later, when he could think through it clearly, he would remember every word she said. He wanted to know more. She still hadn't fully explained why she used fiendfyre.

"Okay, so a ring was one. You said he wanted to create seven. What were the others?"

"He collected items that were supposed to have belonged to the four founders of Hogwarts. He managed to get one from three, but failed to find one for Gryffindor. Or he did but it was lost in the explosion of the Potters' home. Dumbledore thinks he was going to use the murder of baby Harry to make his seventh and final horcrux, but as you know, it went wrong. The wizard likes grand symbolic gestures and items."

He was sure he would have to ask her to repeat some details over in the coming days to fully understand everything. It was all overwhelming. Of course he'd heard the same whispers that the Dark Lord couldn't die and there certainly seemed to be enough evidence of that fact, but he never knew the mechanics of how such an impossibility could be made possible.

"He was the Heir of Slytherin. His family was directly descended from Salazar Slytherin. A locket was passed down through the generations all the way to his mother. Borgin and Burke cheated her out of it when she was pregnant and desperate for money. When Voldemort left Hogwarts, he worked at Borgin and Burkes."

"He did? Really?"

She nodded.

"Even lived in our flat. Those textbooks you found belonged to him."

"I had no idea. The name didn't mean anything to me. If I'd ever heard it before, I didn't realize it was his."

"Few people knew his real name. That was by design. Tom Riddle Senior was a Muggle who Voldemort's mother dosed with love potions. He's ashamed of his father. His murder was the one that turned his family ring into a horcrux."

Just when Draco thought it wasn't possible for him to be shocked again, he was. For being the main reason his family was destroyed, the Dark Lord was a complete mystery. Did he even believe in blood purity or was that just something he used to attract his most rabid followers? He wasn't even a Pureblood. How many other Death Eaters knew that? Did his insane aunt ever learn?

"He stole Slytherin's locket from the wealthy witch it was sold to. Also stole a gold cup that supposedly belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. The locket he hid in a well-protected cave on an island in the middle of a lake filled with inferi. Your cousin Regulus Black died stealing it. For years it sat in his family home until it was stolen by a petty thief Dumbledore trusted enough for some reason to let join the Order. It ended up around Dolores Umbridge's fat neck. Harry, Ron, and I snuck into the Ministry using polyjuice potion to steal it back."

"That's why you were there? No one could ever figure out why the three of you would be so stupid to… I mean…"

"No, I agree. It was an insane plan that nearly failed a dozen different times, but somehow we made it work. At least up until the very end when I inadvertently revealed our hiding place to that horrible Yaxley person. And then Hufflepuff's cup. Do you remember how angry your aunt was when she discovered we had the sword of Gryffindor when we were captures?"

She might have asked the question casually, but Draco felt like he'd been kicked in the throat. How could he not remember every single detail? All he could trust himself to do was nod.

"Bellatrix thought she had the real sword in her Gringotts vault but Professor Snape gave her a fake. He gave us the real one, but none of us knew at the time. Harry didn't find out how much he actually helped us until after Voldemort murdered him. But, the reason your aunt was terrified we'd been in her Gringotts Vault was because she had the Hufflepuff cup. Whether or not she knew it was a horcrux was unclear, but that didn't matter. She didn't want to disappoint the love of her life."

The dramatic rolling of her eyes helped to dispel some of the heavy tension. Draco nearly laughed. Did she mean to be funny or was it an accident?

"Her overreaction was exactly how we knew there was something to be found in Gringotts. That's why we broke in and stole the dragon. The Ravenclaw item was Rowena Ravenclaw's lost diadem. Voldemort found it in Albania, turned it into a horcrux, and hid it in the Room of Requirement. That's what we were looking for when you and your goons found us during the battle."

"You said fiendfyre destroys horcruxes?"

"Yes. When your mate tried to kill us, he only succeeded in helping kill Voldemort."

That was another experience in his life he would never be able to forget. Vince hadn't really been a friend, but he'd been sad when the dumb arse killed himself. Fiendfyre should never be cast by anyone.

"He also turned his snake into one. That's why at the end he was so protective of her. At that point he knew what we were doing. Neville was brilliant. Without him, Harry couldn't have killed him. Or rather, he couldn't have killed himself."

"That's only five. You said he wanted to create seven. What's left?"

"Harry was an accidental horcrux… sort of. There's no precedent for what happened to him. Voldemort imparted some of his soul into Harry the night he killed his parents. It's complicated and no one really understands what happened. That part of him had to be destroyed. But Voldemort's very first horcrux…"

She paused to take a deep breath.

"Was a diary he had as a teenager. He killed Moaning Myrtle to create it."

A heavy sadness fell all over Draco at that knowledge. Sixth year when he'd been so terrified and overwhelmed every single second, Myrtle had been kind to him. He had no idea she was dead because of the Dark Lord.

"He killed her when he opened the Chamber of Secrets. The diary eventually ended up in your father's possession."

"What? My father?"

She nodded.

"He didn't know what it really was. If he had, he wouldn't have been foolish enough to drop it in Ginny Weasley's cauldron second year."

"He thought it was just the key to opening the Chamber."

"And so it was, but it was also a horcrux. Harry destroyed it with a basilisk fang. Before the diary was given to your father for safekeeping, it had another hiding place."

"Where?"

"Inside a hidden compartment in his bedroom in his old attic flat."

Was she going about the long way to tell him she'd found a horcrux? And destroyed it along with Borgin's body? His head felt like it was spinning.

"I found it about a week after we moved into the flat. I wanted to destroy it, but I didn't know how. Basilisk fangs aren't easy to find. I carried it around with me every single second of the day because I knew if I lost it, I would fail my mission."

"What's your mission?"

"I'm going to kill Voldemort before he comes into his full power."

Completely overwhelmed, Draco needed another drink. He made his excuses to escape to the ground floor. After Tom filled his glass and he took his first deep gulp, he saw Tom Riddle watching him from the corner of the room. Suddenly more afraid than he'd been in his entire life, he sat down on a barstool with his back facing his old master. To his immense relief, he wasn't bothered. At the bottom of his second glass he had enough courage to look behind him to find the corner empty.