/
"I told you, Ron, it won't come off," Hermione explained in exasperation, for what she was sure was the hundredth time. She, Ron, and Harry were sat in the Burrow's garden, enjoying the final days of warmth of their summer holiday.
Ron eyed the necklace at Hermione's throat through angered, narrowed eyes.
"Are you sure? Here, let me try again," he said as he reached toward Hermione's neck.
She retracted, placing her fingertips over the necklace's smooth, joined rings. She watched as Ron's look of anger transformed into suspicion, then incredulousness.
"Don't tell me you like the thing, Hermione— women and jewelry, I'll never understand."
She rolled her eyes, and Harry looked between them uneasily.
"Really, Ron? I can't wait to be rid of it."
Hermione said truthfully, or, at least, mostly truthfully.
She had lost count of just how many times she'd attempted removal of the necklace Malfoy had fastened around her neck in Borgin and Burkes, but each time, the clasp seemed to disappear from her fingertips.
Worse than that, she had been burned by the necklace three times now: once, when Harry had attempted removal, the second with Ron. The third instance occurred with Ginny, when Hermione postulated that perhaps the necklace had been charmed against the removal by another man; luckily, Ginny had been unable to see Hermione's grimace of pain as the necklace again burned her.
Hermione's attempts at healing the burn had also likewise been to no avail, and she was left with an angry, thankfully fairly small, red mark beneath her collarbone. She had no intention of telling anyone about it, and she was thankful she'd been able to hide the mark with the right clothing choices.
The necklace seemed otherwise harmless— or at least she hoped it was otherwise harmless— as it had given her no other pain nor cause for concern beyond the constant physical reminder of her incident with Malfoy.
She was enraged at her inability to remove the jewelry, disgusted by its presence- a reminder of Malfoy's general horribleness- but what bothered her more was the fact that she actually found the appearance of the necklace, with its understated, joined rings, quite lovely. Examining her reflection just that morning, she'd been surprised to note how the light platinum rather contradictorily complimented her warm summery glow. Ginny and Fleur, of course not knowing just how it had come into Hermione's possession, had likewise complimented the necklace.
"I think it's time we talk to your dad," Harry said grimly. Hermione nodded in solemn agreement.
"But then— he'll know we went off on our own from Fred and George's—" Ron said worriedly.
"Are you sure you're not the one getting attached to this thing?" asked Hermione sarcastically.
She saw Harry smirk.
"Well—" Ron sputtered.
"We're leaving for Hogwarts tomorrow, so we'll only have to endure his disappointment for one day," Hermione reasoned, not in any particular hurry to relive her failure, nor to admit to Mr. Weasley they'd compromised their own safety when they'd slipped away from Fred and George's shop.
"I suppose we don't need to mention Malfoy, exactly—" she rationalized. "I could say I bought it myself—"
"Er— about that," interrupted Harry, running his hand messily through his hair. "I was thinking it might be a good idea to talk to your dad about Malfoy… I think— I think he might be a Death Eater."
"A Death Eater?" Ron whispered in disbelief.
Hermione said nothing.
It's possible, one part of her mind considered. It's true, another part urged.
"Listen— maybe he took his dad's place. You saw the way he jumped about a mile when Madam Malkin touched his arm."
"You don't really think— he's only sixteen—" Ron muttered skeptically.
Harry and Hermione shared a knowing look, and Hermione imagined Malfoy standing before Voldemort, the gruesome Mark seared into his arm as he attempted to keep his face stoic through the pain— a pain Hermione imagined was probably about a thousand times worse than the burn from her necklace. She considered what pressures he might be under— what threat his mother may be facing, with his father now in Azkaban after failing to retrieve the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries.
There was no doubt she disliked Malfoy, but the imagery made her grimace. She found herself unable to think even he deserved that kind pain.
"You think so too?" Ron asked as he looked to her in surprise.
"I admit the evidence isn't very strong… but there was something about him that seemed… I don't know— off."
"Off?" Ron repeated.
"You're right, Hermione," Harry nodded in agreement. "He just walked away from us in Knockturn Alley— just dropped your wand…"
"Almost like he has bigger worries on his mind now," Hermione said, her fingertips again finding her necklace, absentmindedly this time.
The motion did not go unnoticed by Ron, however, and he scowled.
"Well, let's get this over with."
/
"I'm glad you three came to me," Mr. Weasley said as he examined Hermione's necklace more closely. The four of them were huddled in Mr. Weasley's tool shed under the cover of night, surrounded by his odd assortment of Muggle parts and appliances, some modified with magical qualities, others rusted beyond recognition.
"But I'm disappointed you disappeared like that— especially after the work we went through to visit Fred and George's safely."
"I'm sorry, dad," Ron mumbled sincerely.
"Yeah, we're sorry, Mr. Weasley," Harry echoed.
"It was all my idea— Malfoy really looked like he was up to something," Hermione explained.
They'd already described how the necklace had come into Hermione's possession (she had of course omitted the more uncomfortable details of the confrontation), and now, they admitted their suspicion that Malfoy was one of Voldemort's newest Death Eaters.
"Listen you three… I know Draco Malfoy's history of behavior doesn't exactly warrant confidence—"
Ron made an incredulous sort of snort, but Mr. Weasley's stern look silenced him quickly. With utmost strength, Hermione refrained from smirking.
"—but do you think maybe your bias is leading you to believe there's more to his visits at Malkin's and Borgin's than really exists?"
Hermione knew Mr. Weasley would come to this conclusion, it was one she had considered herself, but the way Malfoy had followed her gaze to his wrist— the way he'd let her wand fall…
"At any rate, the charm on the necklace is actually pretty common— prevents breakage, you see… and removal by anyone other than the person who clasped it first. Right useful if you're one to lose things… some of Molly's jewelry is charmed just the same, none so fine as this, but—"
Seeing their surprised expressions, Mr. Weasley elaborated.
"—jewelry she fastens herself, of course. But I'm worried about this one, having come from Borgin's… you mentioned it's burning you, Hermione?"
"Yes. When anyone else tries to take it off me. When I try myself, the clasp just disappears."
"That's unusual. Did it leave a mark when it burned you?"
Hermione debated if she should come clean about her new wound, but decided against it, considering it made little difference.
"No," she replied.
I told them it burned me, that should be all the information Mr. Weasley will need, she reasoned.
In the mirror that morning, she'd examined the raw, red mark, the one she'd been careful to keep hidden, and, noting with despair how it seemed to be taking the shape of the letter 'M,' she was now reminded of the scar on the back of Harry's hand, the one Umbridge had given him.
She shifted her brown eyes to Harry's hand, and saw the outline of his scar glow white.
"Hmm," Mr. Weasley breathed as he used a Muggle, electronically lit magnifying glass to again inspect the necklace.
"I'm no expert, but let me try to deactivate the charm," Mr. Weasley said as he rolled back his sleeves and proceeded to cast a number of spells, most of which Hermione recognized she'd already attempted herself.
Each of Mr. Weasley's removal spells were equally as unsuccessful as her own had been; the necklace remained unmoving, the clasp continually disappearing from Hermione's fingertips with each attempt at removal.
Mr. Weasley wiped his brow, and Ron yawned loudly. Hermione could see Harry was barely succeeding at keeping his eyes open.
"I'm sorry, Hermione. At least it doesn't seem as though there's any other curse on it— I did scan it. Did you see or hear anything at all about the necklace when you were in the shop?"
Hermione replayed the memory in her mind. She wished she'd been more observant at the time, but the feel of Malfoy's arm around her, his side pressed threateningly against her, and his breath on the back of her neck clouded all other details. But Borgin had mentioned something…
"I remember now— Borgin said it's Goblin-made platinum."
Mr. Weasley's forehead wrinkled in surprise.
"Goblin-made?" Ron asked. "Doesn't that mean it's insanely valuable?Why would Malfoy spend that on—"
"Careful, Ron," Mr. Weasley warned his youngest son politely. Hermione smiled at him in thanks. She remembered Malfoy's words, '"I know you're not typically one for the finer things in life- Potter and Weasley are evidence enough of that—"'
She frowned, knowing it was true, at least in part. Hermione wasn't one to greatly value material possessions, but she also wasn't one to deny the beauty of something skillfully and elegantly crafted, simply because of its price or circumstance; that would be foolish. Harry and Ron were thoughtful in their own ways, and usually got her something on her birthday and Christmas, but she knew her best friends were certainly not the type to see the value and beauty in something like the necklace, whether or not it had been purchased by Malfoy.
"Obviously to make a point," Harry explained dryly. "It was probably a drop in the bucket to him anyway."
"I wouldn't go that far, Harry, Goblin-made precious metals are highly valued… but certainly, yes, the Malfoys are quite wealthy."
"I wish you three had come to me sooner. Might've gotten Bill to take a look— he knows a thing or two about Goblin-made items, working for Gringott's. You said you're sure you haven't experienced any other side effects? Pain? Lapses in memory? Nightmares?"
"No, nothing," Hermione could say for sure she hadn't been experiencing nightmares; in fact, she couldn't recall the last time she'd slept long enough to have one. Her mark did pain her, but she still didn't feel it was worth mentioning.
"D'you really think it could be cursed with something else, Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked, stifling a yawn.
The wizard ran a hand over his face tiredly, "My diagnostics point to 'no', but it's not out of the realm of possibility."
"Bloody Malfoy," Ron mumbled.
"Bloody Malfoy indeed," Mr. Weasley said through a yawn of his own, clearly too exhausted for the pretense of language standards.
"Could Bill visit me at school? Or— I could come to him—" Hermione offered.
Mr. Weasley was silent in consideration, his brow furrowed.
"I know it's not exactly a desirable option, Hermione, but… do you think you might be able to ask Draco to remove the necklace?"
Ron laughed out loud. Harry scowled.
It's the most logical option, really, Hermione thought. And definitely the most unpleasant. She again remembered Malfoy's firm grip upon her waist and shivered.
"Well," Mr. Weasley sighed, "I suppose it will have to be arranged with Bill, and Dumbledore should probably be alerted."
"Dumbledore?" Harry questioned, sitting upright.
Hermione frowned. Mr. Weasley's disappointment was one thing, but Dumbledore's was entirely another. By the change in Harry's expression, Hermione could see he was thinking quite the same thing.
"Yes, he will need to be alerted, especially if Bill is to visit. It brings me no pleasure… Ron— don't give me that look. It's beyond late, and your mother won't let me back in the house if we're even a fraction of a minute late for the train tomorrow. The three of you better be off to bed."
"And what about the thing Malfoy wanted fixing? If he threatened Borgin to get it done, it's probably something Dark or dangerous, isn't it?"
"I doubt it, to be honest, Harry," said Mr. Weasley slowly. "You see, after Lucius Malfoy was arrested, we raided his house. We took away everything that might have been dangerous."
"I think you missed something," said Harry stubbornly. Hermione imagined a Ministry raid inside a house she pictured as large and mysterious as Malfoy Manor— it seemed highly likely that they could miss something.
"Well, maybe," said Mr. Weasley, but it seemed to Hermione that Mr. Weasley was humoring them.
Suddenly, a Muggle alarm clock sounded, and they all jumped. Harry and Hermione drew their wands in alarm.
"Two o'clock? Is that really the time? Molly's never going to forgive me."
Slowly, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood with Ron in the lead, his shoulders slumped with fatigue. Hermione was the last out the door; as she stepped over the threshold, she turned to face Mr. Weasley again. He was sitting atop a narrow, wooden stool, his hands on his knees, back hunched, the shadows under his eyes prominent in the harsh overhead light.
"I'm so sorry Mr. Weasley, I really am—"
Hermione was relieved to see he managed a small smile. "We've been through worse, haven't we, Hermione?"
She smiled in response.
"But I appreciate it…" Mr. Weasley continued. "And please, if anything changes, or, well— you know— just promise me that you'll let me know right away?"
"Of course. I— I promise."
An hour later, Hermione's consciousness seeped into sleep as pure exhaustion overtook her. Her hand rested atop the necklace's entwined rings, and the thin platinum chain around her neck glinted light gray in a sliver of pale moonlight.
/
A/N: Anyone else love Mr. Weasley? Thank you for reading and reviewing!