"Please take a seat, both of you."
Despite the exhaustion visible in the lines of her face and the slight slump of her shoulders, it was plain to see that McGonagall still had enough energy to feel displeased with Draco this morning, as he'd expected. Although she cast a few furtive glances in Hermione's direction, it was for him that she seemed to reserve the lion's share of her disappointment. They'd only just stepped into her office, yet he could already tell what the Headmistress' first order of business would be.
All things considered, I suppose I can understand why she might think I dragged Hermione into this mess.
Between delivering the unconscious students to McGonagall's office, speaking with Aurors, and later helping round up the remaining Slytherins last night, Draco hadn't found the time to explain the finer details about how or why Hermione had found him unconscious in a school hallway in the middle of the night. He certainly hadn't been about to explain anything to McGonagall in the presence of the very housemates who'd plotted to kill him or at the very least maim him again.
However, both he and Hermione had provided their statements to the Aurors who had arrived at Hogwarts a little after one in the morning at McGonagall's behest. They group of four Aurors had apprehended the offending students and searched their rooms for incriminating evidence, and Auror Prather had scheduled a longer debriefing from Draco for the following evening. There had been no time for asides with McGonagall amidst the flurry of activity.
Having settled into her seat as they did the same, McGonagall sighed wearily, "Despite my own personal misgivings, you both did exemplary jobs last night, not only in aiding the Ministry investigation into the Sons of Salazar, but also in living up to your roles and responsibilities as Head Boy and Head Girl. Your combined efforts have made the castle grounds safer for every student on this campus, and for that I thank you. Fifty points each to Slytherin and Gryffindor."
Something in Draco softened at the older woman's words despite the stern tilt to her mouth. He appreciated her praise, knowing it came despite the very real disappointment she currently felt towards him. In that moment he realized McGonagall's displeasure was most likely coming from a more personal place than he'd originally estimated. He supposed Hermione was probably the closest thing McGonagall had to a favorite student at Hogwarts, and realized the Headmistress' concern might be rooted in something akin to motherly affection towards the younger witch.
Both he and Hermione thanked McGonagall with surprise evident in their voices.
"Having said that," the Headmistress continued, "Mr. Malfoy, I'm quite disappointed that you chose to entangle Miss Granger in this investigation despite your repeated instructions not to do so."
Despite the annoyance that crawled up his throat, Draco opened his mouth to respond with an attempt at diplomacy. However, Hermione beat him to it. She spoke in a polite but firm tone.
"Headmistress, with all due respect, I should have been given that choice. While I understand everyone's initial motivations for not involving me, it seems like a moot point now. Besides, I'm afraid your disappointment is misplaced. Draco didn't drag me into this investigation—Pansy Parkinson did. Without her warning, I would never have known to look for him last night at a time when he obviously needed the help."
Draco couldn't believe he was watching Hermione stand up to the Headmistress, much less on his behalf. It was one thing for her to admit she was attracted to him and kiss him in the privacy of their rooms, but it was altogether surreal for her to be defending him to Minerva McGonagall of all people. What next? Would she defend him to Potter and Weasely, too? The very thought seemed inconceivable.
Hermione's words gave McGonagall pause, and the older woman's expression became contrite, "I apologize if I've offended you, Miss Granger. Thank you for clarifying. Any secrecy you've encountered regarding this investigation was borne purely out of concern for your wellbeing. However, I can see why you would find it insulting. Rest assured you will no longer be kept in the dark."
Draco noted McGonagall's willingness to change her mind based on new information—it made him respect her a little more. He saw Hermione nod gratefully out of the corner of his eye.
"Thank you, Minerva."
McGonagall turned to Draco, "Mr. Malfoy, I apologize to you as well for jumping to the wrong conclusions."
Placated by her gesture, he nodded, "Of course, Headmistress. Apology accepted."
Her curiosity piqued, McGonagall turned to Hermione and proceeded to question her about her encounter with Pansy. Hermione repeated what she'd told Draco this morning, and she wondered out loud once again why the Slytherin girl had gone behind her father's back to thwart his plans.
Why indeed. What's your angle, Pansy?
McGonagall's attention once again turned to him as he sat to the left of Hermione wearing a contemplative expression.
"Mr. Malfoy, have you prepared the memories you plan to give to Auror Prather later today?"
He nodded, remembering just how difficult it had been to concentrate enough to extract those memories last night after he'd retreated to his bedroom. Not that he was complaining—he wouldn't have traded his kiss with Hermione for anything.
"Yes," he answered, gesturing to one of the hidden pockets in his cloak, "I brought them with me, just in case."
"Excellent. Last night you briefly mentioned the Legilimency you performed on Victor Caswell and Clarence Burke after your skirmish. I'd like to review what you saw in their minds, specifically what you learned about Quartius Parkinson."
Draco extracted the wraparound leather clutch within which he'd carefully labeled and stashed the vials containing his memories of last night. With nimble fingers, he unrolled the supple cut of leather and plucked two vials out of the line-up of six that lay before him. He handed them to McGonagall, knowing the memories would do a better job of informing her of the Imperiused students still at Hogwarts. He wondered if it would be as much of a nasty shock for her as it had been for him, and decided it was best to warn her now.
"Headmistress," he began hesitantly, "There's something else. I hesitated to say anything until now because I wanted to be sure these weren't false or modified memories, so I'm curious to know if you think they're credible. Based on what I saw in the minds of Caswell and Burke, there seem to be a number of students at Hogwarts who are currently under the Imperius curse, as well as students in other houses who are also involved in Sons of Salazar activity."
McGonagall looked stunned, but she composed herself quickly, "Very well. Please bear with me while I review these memories for myself. We'll discuss their veracity, as well as our next steps once I've finished."
Both students nodded, and Draco watched as the Headmistress rose and made her way to the pensieve where only a few weeks ago he'd relived one of the worst moments of his life—and perhaps of Hermione's as well. His gaze was unwittingly drawn to the curly haired witch sitting to his right. Her brows were furrowed and her expression was grave, her mind clearly elsewhere. While he understood what had motivated her shift in mood, it was jarring nonetheless to see that all traces of playful warmth had disappeared from her visage in the space of a few minutes.
He waited until McGonagall had leaned over the pensieve and entered the first of the two memories before leaning closer to Hermione and quietly murmuring, "A knut for your thoughts?"
She turned to look at him thoughtfully, and he could tell she was deciding whether to tell him what was on her mind or brush him off. He was relieved when she seemed to have decided on the former—it meant progress.
"Considering the number of students you mentioned who are currently under the Imperius, I'm wondering just how long they've been under the curse, and what their ultimate purpose was meant to be. What if this started even before the Final Battle? It's terrible to think that for some people the war never really ended."
Draco grimaced, reminded of his own experience with the Imperius this year, even if he technically remembered none of it firsthand. He'd wondered the same thing since last night, and wished he'd given himself more time to delve into the minds of both 6th years. Of course, the Ministry would pick up where he'd left off, of that he could be sure. He knew from personal experience just how thorough they could be.
"Infiltration seems to have been high on their list of priorities. I can only imagine the kind of intelligence gathering and coercion the Sons of Salazar have been able to accomplish with five students in different houses under their complete control," he said grimly.
"I suppose given last night's round-up as well as today's, we'll know soon enough."
Hermione seemed to shudder, and before he realized he was doing it, his hand darted out to squeeze her arm gently, his thumb rubbing against her skin in slow, mesmerizing circles. Her shoulders relaxed minutely, and he pulled his hand back, satisfied so simple of a touch could provide some measure of temporary comfort for her.
They were both distracted by the sound of McGonagall straightening from her position over the pensieve. Clearly distracted by what she'd seen in Draco's first memory, she made short work of siphoning it back into its vial, and then pouring the second memory out. She glanced up at Hermione absentmindedly and gestured to her.
"Miss Granger, I realize now I should have asked you to view both of these memories with me for the sake of efficiency—unless Mr. Malfoy has already shared them with you?"
Hermione shook her head, "No, I have yet to see them, Headmistress."
She rose to walk across the office, stopping to stand facing McGonagall at the other end of the pensieve.
McGonagall nodded, "Very well then. We shall view this one together, and you can watch the remaining memory once we've finished."
Hermione reached out to hold the older woman's hand, and without further ado, they delved into the pensieve together. They stayed there for nearly fifteen minutes, and when they emerged Hermione's somber expression had transformed into a cross between consternation and fury. McGonagall's expression contained a hint of that ire, but was much more composed as she bottled the memory they'd now all seen. She gingerly handed the other vial to Hermione for her perusal.
The Headmistress' expression was as serious as he'd ever seen it as she sat behind her desk once more, and handed Draco the vial in her hand.
"I've been too harsh with you, Mr. Malfoy," she said quietly while meeting his gaze with a measure of contrition in her eyes, "At the beginning of the school year I offered you a chance to prove you could be a better person, someone with integrity. Despite your own horrific experiences at Hogwarts this year, you've already more than risen to the occasion. I'm proud of you, Draco. Thank you for bringing this to my attention."
Some remote part of him wondered if sleep deprivation was getting to her, because she had just complimented him. Him. Minerva McGonagall had just told Draco Malfoy that she was proud of him. First his breakthrough with Hermione, and now this. It felt almost too good to be true.
He allowed a sliver of the pride he felt to bleed into the curve of his lips as he responded, "I appreciate your confidence in me, Headmistress. I hope my actions continue to reflect the sincerity of my motivations."
Her lips quirked into a frown, "You may be the exception in your house presently, Mr. Malfoy, but I hope you can serve as an example and a mentor for your younger housemates. They desperately need it."
Draco nodded, "Of course, I'll do my best."
Having finished viewing the memory, Hermione straightened and bottled it only a few moments later. Neither the consternation nor fury had abated from her expression—if anything, they'd intensified. Despite the dire circumstances, he still found himself attracted to the fire in his fellow Head Girl's eyes. Clearly agitated, she stalked back to McGonagall's desk and handed Draco the memory before taking a seat.
"There is no doubt in my mind that the memories you pulled last night are real, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said with another frown as she reached across her desk to gather some parchment, a quill, and ink.
She began scribbling a note while she spoke, "I trust in their credibility enough that I'll be summoning another team of Aurors here immediately. Under no circumstances do I want either of you apprehending any of these remaining students on your own, is that understood?"
Draco nodded and murmured his agreement immediately, as did Hermione from beside him, although she sounded more reluctant.
Satisfied with their answers, McGonagall continued, "All twelve of the Slytherin students caught last night were taken to the Ministry for interrogation. They were not given the chance to return to their rooms, and a forensics team spent a few hours earlier this morning in the dungeons sifting through their things for evidence."
Here she paused, "Based on the information that has already been conveyed to me about those interrogations and searches, ten of the twelve students have been expelled. The eleventh—Chelsea Travers— is still pending further investigation, and the twelfth is Mr. Zabini."
Here, she gave Draco a meaningful look, "As you know, Blaise Zabini has been granted immunity and will not be punished for his involvement at all, as he was an informant that you recruited, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco nodded reluctantly, the acidic taste of bile rising in the back of his throat at the thought of how well Blaise had played him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Hermione's hand twitch in her lap, and he wondered if she'd been tempted to reach out to him the way he'd comforted her earlier. The possibility alone warmed him slightly.
"Although it happened overnight, it is safe to assume that news of their expulsion and detainment has already begun to spread. This is the largest student expulsion in Hogwarts history, after all," she finished grimly, "It's not beyond the realm of possibility that we'll experience fallout from those displeased with our methods, so I advise you both to be on the lookout."
McGonagall wordlessly summoned the tawny owl that had been perched half-asleep in another corner of the room, and briskly tied the note she'd written to its leg after whispering a destination to it. In the next moment it had flown up, up, and then through an open window high in the tower within which the Headmistress' office and quarters were located.
Draco was surprised at how little Hermione had spoken so far, but with a surreptitious glance at her he realized she was deep in thought, perhaps still synthesizing not only what she'd seen in his memories, but also what she'd learned this morning and last night. It was definitely a lot to process. After all, they'd just gotten ten students expelled—potentially more.
He also knew that some of what she'd seen in those memories involved unsavory talk about her. The Sons of Salazar may hold a grudge against him for his betrayal to the pureblood cause, but they hated Hermione simply for existing. That hatred had only grown upon her escape from their ambush in September. He hoped she didn't let any of what she'd heard in those memories affect her. It was all a bunch of drivel anyway.
The trio spent the next few minutes discussing the kind of surveillance McGonagall wanted Draco and Hermione to undertake in the coming days. It was decidedly tamer than any of the reconnaissance he'd been doing in his free time during the previous few weeks, but the game had changed now that most of the major players had been caught and those that remained were underground. Besides, he was pleased that he and Hermione would be working together on something less dangerous than what he'd previously been involved with, although it was equally as important.
By the time Minerva dismissed them with a reminder to grab some food before breakfast ended if they were hungry, Draco felt decidedly more optimistic about the course of events he and Hermione had set into motion last night. They bid the Headmistress goodbye while she stayed behind to meet with the Aurors she'd summoned. With a lighter step in his walk, he and Hermione made their way to the Great Hall to discuss what they'd learned.
Hermione spent the walk to breakfast torn between casting furtive glances at Draco's sharp profile, and fretting about what to tell her friends. As satisfying as it felt to finally know just what the hell was going on behind closed doors, it meant she now had to conceal the same secrets Draco, Harry, and McGonagall had concealed from her. As such, she hadn't yet decided what, if anything, she would tell her Gryffindor friends about what had transpired last night.
Draco leaned in and teased lightly from beside her, "If the gears in your mind were spinning any faster there'd be steam billowing out of your ears."
She snorted lightly, and a small smile crept onto her face despite her dour thoughts, "In that case, I can only imagine the glacial pace the gears in your mind must be accustomed to spinning at."
He chuckled lowly at her quip and shook his head, "Touché."
As they walked through the mostly empty corridors, he leaned in and murmured, "Thanks for speaking up for me in McGonagall's office, by the way. It was... unexpected, but much appreciated."
She nodded, "Of course, I wasn't about to let her blame you for something that wasn't your fault, Draco."
With a fond smile, she parted ways with him at the entrance to the Great Hall, and took a seat by Ginny, Dean, Seamus and Neville near the far end of the Gryffindor table. They greeted her warmly, surprised she'd chosen such a busy time for breakfast, given her usual preference for early mornings. Shrugging, she grabbed some toast and began to butter it while explaining that she and Draco had been meeting with the Headmistress for Heads' business beforehand.
As it turned out, Hermione needn't have worried about what to reveal about the previous night's activities. The mail began to arrive only a few minutes after she'd taken her seat at the Gryffindor table. With a frisson of shock, Hermione learned that The Daily Prophet had done the work for her with a large front-page headline proclaiming in sensationalized grainy print that the largest expulsion in Hogwarts history had taken place overnight.
"10 Slytherins Expelled from Hogwarts After Overnight Sting Operation Reveals Connections to Pureblood-Obsessed Secret Society"
Her friends' gazes shot to hers in shock as they noted what the headline said, as did the eyes of the rest of Gryffindor table as the news spread like wildfire.
"Blimey," Dean whispered with wide eyes.
"Did you know about this?" Ginny asked her with round eyes, seemingly caught somewhere between glee, shock and incredulity.
Hermione shifted uncomfortably before nodding, "I did as of last night. But because it involves official Ministry business, I wouldn't have been able to tell you much if anything about it even if I'd known earlier. Looks like I no longer need to worry about that, though."
Everyone's eyes were furtively drawn to the Slytherin table—which looked noticeably emptier than usual this morning—before their gazes darted back to their own plates. A flurry of whispers erupted across the Great Hall in response to the news, while various people craned their necks to get a better view of who was missing.
Curious to know just how the information had spread so quickly, Hermione scanned the front-page article. It quickly became apparent that the parents of some of the expelled students' had launched a preemptive defense to court public opinion via the Daily Prophet. The first hints of dread begin to drip down her spine as she noted just how much detail the article delved into, including mentioning her involvement in what had transpired.
Although her involvement made sense within her capacity as Head Girl, she didn't like how bright of a spotlight had been cast upon her with this publicity. She had brief flashbacks to 4th year when Rita Skeeter's scathing article about her supposed involvement with Harry had caused a torrent of hate mail to pile upon her. If anything, today's revelation seemed like something that was more likely to invite that kind of ire upon her.
Interestingly, there was comparatively little mention of Draco considering the outsized role he'd played in what had happened last night, and considering the role he'd played in the school's previous scandal last month. Somehow, it appeared his cover hadn't been completely blown. Either that or public attention towards him was being purposely diverted towards her instead with this article. Her eyes darted to the Slytherin table, where Draco appeared to be speaking lowly with Pansy, his shoulders stiff with tension.
Intrigued, she surreptitiously watched them while wishing she knew what they were talking about. What could possibly have motivated Pansy to essentially forsake her own father? She had to have known what warning Hermione would mean—what it could lead to. Hermione couldn't tell if Pansy's actions had been driven by stupidity or craftiness, and the insidious uncertainty was eating away at her.
Hermione's thoughts were drawn to what she'd seen in both of Draco's memories earlier in McGonagall's office. It had been shocking to see the extent to which the Sons of Salazar had infiltrated Hogwarts, and to hear the extent to which they hated her and people like her. What had really sickened her though, was to hear how they had mocked what she'd gone through. Although she knew better than to let them get to her, it still pained her to hear her suffering reduced to the butt of a few cruel jokes.
Distracted by her thoughts, Hermione only belatedly noticed the numerous owls circling her near the tail end of the morning's mail delivery. With mounting horror, she noticed the trio of steaming red envelopes that three of the owls were carrying, and slid her wand into her grip despite knowing there was nothing she could realistically do to stem the tirade she knew was coming.
The smoking envelopes erupted in tandem in a cacophony of screeching diatribes a scant two meters above her head, spewing the most hateful chorus of rubbish she'd had the displeasure of hearing since her last brush with the Sons of Salazar. Left with little other recourse, Hermione desperately covered her ears with her hands along with the rest of Gryffindor table, wincing at the intensity of the combined Howlers. After a few more unpleasant seconds of hate-filled shouting, the envelopes exploded in an angry shower of ruby sparks and red smoke, leaving most of the Great Hall's inhabitants in a daze.
Feeling weary beyond measure, Hermione dimly noted the horned owl that had begun to swoop towards her in the aftermath of that hateful spectacle. A small box wrapped in parchment and twine was dangling from one of the owl's legs, and the dread that had long since coalesced along her spine began to wrap around her torso in suffocating bands of tension.
Were the Howlers just a distraction?
The thought had barely formed when out of the corner of her eye Hermione noted another two packages of similar appearance bearing down on the Gryffindor table in evenly spaced increments. They were held by similarly imposing horned owls, and something about their convenient timing struck Hermione as far too suspicious. Cursing as a sense of foreboding shot through her and choosing to trust her intuition, she bolted up from her seat while pointing her wand at the innocuous looking boxes.
In perhaps the quickest display of magic she was sure she'd ever achieved, she successively cast three lightning-quick summoning spells at the small packages and ran towards the entrance to the Great Hall while towing them behind her amidst growing confusion all around her. At this point mere seconds had passed since the Howlers had exploded in a conveniently flashy and distracting display of smoke and light.
She knew it was beyond reckless, but in the split-second of time she'd had to consider her options, she'd known this would be the one that put the least amount of students in danger if the boxes were indeed as dangerous as she feared. If nothing came of this, well, better safe than sorry—even if it gained her a reputation for being a worrywart. In the next second, she whipped the packages ahead of her through the entrance to the Great Hall, and into the empty foyer beyond, ignoring the shouts of confusion and the questions that were being called out behind her.
The three boxes had barely crossed the room's threshold when they exploded in a deafening blast, erupting in bursts of billowing violet powder that defied their diminutive size. The Protego Hermione scrambled to cast at the last second was no match for the concussive power of the combined explosions.
She had milliseconds to hope that her prescience had potentially prevented a far worse outcome for her housemates and fellow students before her field of vision was quickly overtaken by an imposing wall of glittering purple. In the next half-instant, she was blown backwards by the combined force of the explosions. The world dimmed to a concentrated point of violent purple light before she was inexorably dragged into unconsciousness.
A/N: As always, I deeply appreciate your thoughts and attention as I continue to explore this dramione daydream. I'm not usually one for cliffhangers, but this was the best place to end this chapter without launching into another few thousand words, which would have made it monstrously long. Until next time!