Chapter Twelve
Waking up the morning after the fire was surprisingly difficult for Hermione. Living in constant proximity to Voldemort's first horcrux for months made a decent night's sleep nearly impossible. She'd always been a light sleeper and the disturbing dreams only made it worse. After Draco left their shared room to get another drink, she took advantage of the hot shower in their private bathroom to wash off all memories of the Fiendfyre and the feel of Borgin's touch on her skin. Somehow she was able to put on clean pajamas and crawl into the only bed in the room before she passed out from sheer exhaustion.
She could've slept for days if she allowed herself. The energy required to cast Fiendfyre had also taken a lot out of her. Magic always demanded a price of some kind. Most spells were relatively mild and didn't need much. Reaching inside of her to pull out enough energy to cast that devastating spell had been taxing. The alcohol she drank didn't help. Still unused to drinking, especially hard liquor like fire whiskey, it was understandable why she would sleep hard for a long time.
When she rolled over in the comfortable bed, Hermione saw a pile of blankets on the floor. Draco was still asleep. They hadn't spoken to each other since she told him everything and he chose to go back downstairs. She wasn't even sure when he returned to their room. Likely he was up many hours drinking at the bar. Could she really blame him after what she told him? He had a lot to think about.
So did she for that matter. What was she going to do next? If her whole purpose was to defeat Voldemort before he grew much stronger, she was wasting time. Every moment she wasn't seeking out his horcruxes put her more and more at a disadvantage. If she waited too long, she might not be strong enough. It would be a shame to come so far back in time only to die without preventing the wars that would devastate so many. She felt confident she would be all right with dying in her pursuit if she was successful. The sacrifice would be worth it.
A loud knock on the door startled her out of her deep thoughts. Draco's blanket nest stirred feebly. Nervous about who would disturb them so early in the morning, Hermione could hear her heart pounding in her ears as she crossed the room. Good news rarely arrived with harsh morning knocks.
Two wizards stood outside in the corridor with stern, fierce expressions on their faces. Despite their attempts to be intimidating, she nearly wept with relief. Part of her expected Voldemort to seek her out for a private meeting. It had been bad enough knowing he'd followed them to The Leaky Cauldron. She couldn't be sure what else he might do.
"Are you Hermione Granger?"
The older of the two wizards didn't even try to put her at ease. Based on the robes they wore and the badges pinned to the front, they were aurors from the Ministry. It took her a moment to recognize the auror who was none other than Alastor Moody. With both eyes and an undamaged nose, it was easy to forget who he was.
"Yes, I am. Who are..?"
"We're investigating the Fiendfyre incident that took place yesterday afternoon in Knockturn Alley. Until yesterday you lived and worked in Borgin and Burkes, did you not?"
"Yes, I did."
"Witnesses we've spoken to claim you were there at the time the fire started. Is that true?"
Should she tell the truth? Hermione didn't know what to do. Of course there would be a full investigation after the loss of both property and life. She had been expecting it, but now that it was happening, she was nervous and unsure. Finally convincing herself that she would be fine if she just told them the story she'd decided upon, she didn't hesitate to respond.
"Yes, I was."
"You will need to come with us to the Ministry for further questioning, Miss Granger."
Her stomach sank. Did that mean she was being arrested? Who were the witnesses? Did someone witness something she didn't realize?
"Gentlemen, is there something I can help you with?"
Hermione was grateful to have Draco's presence next to her in the doorway. She'd been so consumed in her own worries she hadn't notice him approach.
"Are you Draco Black?"
"Yes, what's happening?"
"We are here to escort you both to the Ministry of Magic for further questioning. We will wait out here in the corridor for you to dress."
Moody pulled the door shut. Even without saying so out loud she knew he would blast through the door to drag them out if they didn't comply. Draco tried to calm her down with a bright smile, but she could see how nervous he was in his eyes.
"Just standard procedure. Nothing to worry about. We'll answer their questions and be out in no time at all."
Only a few short minutes passed before they were ready to leave. Moody gave them the impression he wouldn't allow more than that. Better to just get it over with. The waiting and wondering could sometimes be worse than the reality. Each auror grabbed one of their arms when they were outside The Leaky Cauldron to Apparate them straight inside the Auror Office.
Hermione was immediately led into a small room with a table and four chairs. Just like the stereotypical interrogation room present in every Muggle police television show, there was even a large mirror on the wall she knew was really a window. One of the chairs was already occupied by a severe looking woman in dark robes with a quill and parchment. Moody led her to another chair. Unfortunately, Draco was forced to wait outside. She would've appreciated a friendly face inside the room.
After a few preliminary questions for the official record regarding her identity, Moody went straight into the hard ones. Hermione tried very hard to remain as calm as possible. If she gave them any reason not to trust her answers, she might be forced to drink Veritaserum. That could be disastrous.
"Were you inside the shop Borgin and Burkes yesterday when the Fiendfyre began, Miss Granger?"
"Yes, I was."
"Did you see how it began?"
Hermione nodded her head, needing a moment to formulate her proper answer. If she wasn't a talented enough liar she could end up in her own cell in Azkaban. What she did to Borgin was technically a murder even if she had good cause. She might be excused for that because he was threatening to harm her, but nothing, absolutely nothing would excuse the use of Fiendfyre. Not only was she covering up evidence of a crime, she destroyed property and possibly killed more than just Borgin. No one had told her yet how extensive the damage was.
"Mr. Borgin cast the spell that created it."
"Why would he do something so foolish and dangerous, Miss Granger?"
She forced a few tears to roll out of her eyes that she hastily wiped away with the back of her sleeve. It wasn't hard. She felt on the verge of tears since the whole ordeal began. Allowing a few to be seen by her interrogators could only help satisfy them that she was telling the truth.
"He threatened me. He liked to taunt me. When we were alone in the shop, he…"
Moody's eyes narrowed. He wasn't the sort to be moved by a woman's tears. The other auror was much kinder. Though he didn't say anything, she could tell he trusted she was telling the truth. He even offered her a small smile.
"He told me that if I kept rejecting him, I would wake up one night with my bed covered in Fiendfyre. To show me he meant it, he cast Fiendfyre. He seemed to have it under control at first, but then he couldn't stop it. His robes caught on fire and then the shelves around him. He was screaming, but I ran. I was so scared I cast a blasting spell on the door. I know I should've stayed to try to help him, but I didn't know what to do. Maybe I could've helped him if I stayed."
Hermione covered her face with both hands and gave in to the tears she held back. While it may have been a bit of a performance put on for their benefit, the whole experience of being called in for questioning regarding the serious crime had been quite upsetting. The kind auror placed a gentle hand on her shoulder to get her attention long enough to accept a clean handkerchief. She was glad she wasn't stuck in there alone with Moody.
"Dawlish, check her wand. If she's telling the truth, it should be easy enough to find out."
Testing her wand was all of the evidence they needed to trust she wasn't the one responsible. Once Auror Dawlish verified the last spell she cast with her wand other than a few personal hygiene spells that morning was a blasting spell, she was free to go.
"Of course we may have more questions for you, Miss Granger, as our investigation continues."
Moody's last statement echoed in her eyes as she made her exit. She wasn't sure she wanted to go through that again. There wasn't time to say anything to Draco before he was escorted into the same room she just left. Hoping his interview wouldn't take long, she paced the small waiting area.
"Hermione?"
It had only been a few minutes when she heard the familiar voice call out her name. She was happy to see Igor and it was evident he was relieved to see she was all right. When he was close enough to touch her, he pulled her into a tight embrace.
"I've been so worried about you ever since I first heard about the fire."
Guilt spread all over Hermione again at his statement. Because of what she did, her friend lost everything he owned when the building burned down. How could she make it up to him? Was it even possible?
"You and Draco weren't there when I went to see how bad the fire was. The newspaper said there was only one confirmed death but a few missing."
"Borgin is dead."
She didn't like the way Igor looked at her. He seemed different, very unlike his usual self. Was he still in shock from what happened or was it more than that? Pulling her back in for a close hug, he whispered softly in her ear.
"I'll never tell anyone I taught you that spell. Never. I don't know the details, but I know the bastard had it coming."
Igor shot her a cheeky wink that was more like his usual self when they broke apart. He took her by the hand to lead her to two chairs. Only when they were seated did he release her hand. She was glad to have the presence of her friend while she waited for Draco's questioning to be over. Every passing second seemed to take longer and longer.
"My potions master has allowed me to move into his cellar."
"That was generous of him."
"Yes, I've traded one dank hole in the ground for another, but I suppose it could be worse. At least I know I won't be there forever."
The back of his hand brushed against the bare skin of Hermione's wrist. His gold ring with what she thought was his family crest had a rough edge that sliced through her flesh. She hissed at the pain.
"I'm so sorry, Hermione."
When he saw the small drops of fresh red blood on her skin, Igor was terribly embarrassed. He wiped away the blood with his handkerchief before casting a healing spell. Over and over he apologized for his clumsy accident.
"I will take my ring straight to the jeweler's when I leave here again to have it repaired."
"It's all right, Igor. I'm not hurt."
Only moments after her tiny wound was cleaned up and healed, Draco exited the interrogation room. He didn't say much, only nodded when Igor greeted him. Despite living in the same building for half a year, the two wizards hadn't spent much time around each other beyond the one night in September Igor dragged them to a dodgy pub in Knockturn Alley to celebrate Hermione's twentieth birthday. For Hermione, at least, the night had been fun. Draco tolerated Igor for her sake.
An auror stepped out to inform Igor it was his turn to answer some questions about the fire. Before he disappeared inside the room, Hermione let him know they were staying temporarily at The Leaky Cauldron. He promised to drop by soon not visit.
"How was it, Draco?"
"I'm starving. Let's go get some lunch."
She knew better than to repeat her question. Until he was ready to tell her, she knew he wouldn't answer. Together they left the Ministry and returned to the tavern that had become their new home. Already the main room was filling up with hungry patrons there to take advantage of Tom's generous lunch specials.
"Take that table in the back and I'll order."
Those were the first words he'd spoken to her since they left the Auror Office. Hermione hated how awkward it was between them. What happened behind those closed doors? She was rapidly losing patience, but knew pushing him too hard would only blow up in her face. She claimed the table as he ordered, hoping it would help him open up.
Half of Draco's fish pie was gone before he said anything else. It had been a maddening meal. Hermione hardly had any appetite. How angry was he really with her? She thought she knew him well enough by that point to know when he was trying to hide his true feelings. Reaching the end of her tether, she blurted out an apology in a whisper.
"I'm very sorry you were dragged into this mess because of me, Draco. If I could take it back to keep you out of it, I would."
Draco's brow furrowed. He seemed confused.
"I'm not angry with you, Hermione."
"Are you sure about that?"
He let out a soft chuckle and the corner of his mouth turned up into a half-smile.
"When I've been angry with you in the past, did I ever try to hide it?"
She smiled, a little of the tension lessening.
"No, I don't suppose you have. You just seem upset."
"I don't enjoy being questioned by aurors when I'm suffering from a nasty hangover, but no, I'm not angry."
"You didn't even speak to Igor. You know, he thinks you hate him."
His laughter was a little louder and his smile a little wider.
"Then he's smarter than I ever gave him credit for."
"You hate Igor? Why?"
"'Hate' might be too strong a word, but yes, I dislike him… a lot. I never liked him when I was a child. The way he acted around my mother… well, it was very similar to how he acts around you."
Was Draco jealous? As soon as the ridiculous thought popped into her head, Hermione convinced herself it wasn't true. She was just misinterpreting what he actually said. Igor was an acquired taste. She could understand why some people didn't care to be around him. He made her laugh, but there was no reason for anyone to be jealous where he was concerned. They would never be more than just friends, not even if Igor begged and pleaded.
"You know there's nothing there between Igor and me, right?"
She didn't know why she felt the need to make that statement out loud. When did it become important to explain the details of her sadly non-existent love life to Draco? Though she had a great deal on her mind with the accidental murder she committed and the extensive property damage, she'd thought about how Draco kissed her right after she told him what happened to Borgin. It had been a complete shock. She didn't know what to do or even what to think at the time. Of course she'd imagined what it would be like if they kissed. After all, her inappropriate thoughts about her flatmate was how she got herself in the dangerous position in the first place. She might have been able to cast a distraction spell and Borgin might still be alive.
But his kiss didn't really mean anything, did it? He just kissed her out of relief. Maybe he was even as shocked as she was that he did it. He certainly pulled away quickly enough and then couldn't look at her again. Was she making it more than it really was? She had a nasty habit of over-analyzing and overthinking every single detail about everything.
"I suspected you were far too smart to fall for Karkaroff's charm, but I'm glad to hear it confirmed. Your past history with wizards, Viktor Krum excluded, hardly inspires confidence."
There was a twinkle in his eye that proved Draco was only teasing. She made a dramatic show of rolling her eyes even as she smiled. It was encouraging that at least they could still laugh even after the uncomfortable morning they had. As much as she tried to remain positive, she still worried after all of her revelations the day before that he would never be fully comfortable around her again.
"It was bizarre seeing Moody with two normal eyes, wasn't it?"
Hermione felt encouraged that he would bring up the subject of the aurors first. Though superficial and hardly important, it was something. She was ready to burst with questions. Would he answer them?
"Yes, it was. He hasn't changed much. Or he won't change much in the future. You know what I mean."
"I do. You were in there a long time. Are you all right?"
"Yes, I am, thank you. I just told them the truth. Borgin was threatening me. The rest was a little bit of an embellishment, but I don't think they suspected me. The one good thing abut being a young witch in the past is no one seems to believe we're capable of being dangerous and powerful."
It irked her to say it out loud even if it was the truth. Well, everyone could underestimate her at their peril. Borgin certainly did. Maybe the arsehole would still be alive if he hadn't assumed she was too weak to fight back.
"I worried they were being too hard on you."
"No, they weren't. Moody doesn't trust me, but he doesn't trust anyone. The other one, Dawlish, was kind. He seemed to believe me. What did they ask you?"
"Mostly questions about how Borgin treated you, if I'd ever seen him behave inappropriately with you."
"And what did you say?"
"The truth. Anyone could see he was a disgusting slug who preyed on young women. I told them that you never told me he was threatening you, which was the truth."
His sigh proved he was still frustrated that she never told him how bad it had gotten in the shop. She didn't want to argue with him. At the time, she did what she thought was right. What could Draco have done if she told him how much Borgin frightened her before she accidentally killed him? He could've ended up in Azkaban or dead. She would never be sorry that she kept the full truth from him. Even if she apologized, she wouldn't mean it.
"I get the feeling they're not done asking you questions. Please be careful, Hermione. No one would fault you for what you did… before the uhh, you know what that is. Moody said Borgin had more enemies than friends. You might even find yourself new admirers if it got out what you did to him."
It felt good to laugh. Yes, perhaps it was more than a little inappropriate to laugh at such a morbid situation, but Hermione couldn't help it. She felt calmer than she had in months.
"You know, I can already tell the difference in you now that… that thing is gone. Was it like that with all of the others too?"
"Yes. We didn't know how to destroy the locket for months, so we had to take turns wearing it. All of us were affected, some more than others."
She was embarrassed that Draco was able to notice she was different. For much of the time she had the diary in her possession, she just assumed she'd been so unhappy because she was stuck in that terrible shop. Until the diary was destroyed she thought what she was feeling was something else entirely. After all, the locket hadn't changed her personality so much. Why would she think the diary would be any worse?
"I wasn't sure the… thing was affecting me as much as it was. I'm sorry."
He granted her a small, but encouraging smile.
"I've decided I'm going to help you, Hermione. Your mission is now my mission too."
"But, Draco…"
"No, don't argue with me. I've made up my mind. I'm not a reckless Gryffindor desperate for glory, but I want to live in a world he hasn't ruined."
She no longer had any thoughts of trying to dissuade him. Selfishly, she was glad to not be alone. It was easier to have a partner she trusted and in their timelines, she trusted no one as much as she did Draco. It was funny how much had changed and continued to do so.
"I need to go to work now. Miss Doris is probably worried."
The unspoken reminder that he was the only one with a job hung in the air even after he made his exit. Her savings wouldn't last long, especially since she wouldn't be paid for the previous week. Somehow she doubted old Burke would care enough to pay her what she was owed. Seeing a discarded Daily Prophet on the empty table next to hers, Hermione picked it up and flipped to the section advertising available jobs. Surely there was something out there better than what she already had.
A couple of the options sounded interesting enough that she had them circled before she was interrupted by a shadow falling over the table. Expecting to see one of those obnoxious cretins who assumed a lady alone was just begging for their company, she looked up with a request to be left alone on her tongue. The words failed to form when she saw Tom Riddle staring down at her. She was suddenly very nervous.
"Are you Hermione Granger?"
And then she was positively terrified. How did he know her name? Why was he looking for her? She couldn't lie. That would only make him suspicious because clearly he already knew exactly who she was. Was he already a Legilimens or did he learn that later?
"Yes, I am. Is there something I can help you with, Mr..?"
"Riddle. My name is Tom Riddle. I was told by the late Borgin that you have some of my books. I would like to have them back."
Her first instinct was to tell him they'd been lost in the fire, but somehow she knew he wouldn't be satisfied with that answer.
"Of course."
She reached inside her beaded bag to dig out his old textbooks. If it was anyone else, she might have been tempted to ask what he would want with old schoolbooks, but she knew what he really wanted and suspected she still had it. It bothered her to know he'd spoken to Borgin about her.
It was uncomfortable being subjected to his prolonged scrutiny. She tried to keep from appearing nervous even as her hands shook inside her bag. When she finally found the textbooks, she nearly sighed in relief. Tom Riddle took them straight from her hands. For several seconds he stared at them and flipped through their pages before meeting her eye.
"And these are the only books of mine you found in the attic?"
"Yes, just those. I'm afraid if any others were left behind they were lost in the fire."
He tried to hide it, but she could tell he was fuming. If a part of her soul was damaged, she supposed she would feel the same way. His fingers grasped the edge of her newspaper to pull it closer for a better look.
"Thank you for returning these to me, Miss Granger. Good luck in your search for new employment."
With every step he took closer to the door, Hermione felt more relief. She watched him cross the room. Just before Tom Riddle stepped outside, he dropped his old textbooks into a rubbish bin.
