Songs - Hope Is a Dangerous Thing for a Woman Like Me to Have - But I Have It by Lana Del Rey, The Scientist by Coldplay, and Umbrella by Ember Island
Chapter Seventeen: Fraxinus
Hermione couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, visions of Draco lying somewhere in a pool of his own blood would invade her thoughts, and she'd throw them back open in a panic, clutching her heart as if it could ease her pain. She'd lay there, tears silently falling down her face, before her eyelids would fall heavy with exhaustion again and close against her will, eliciting a new round of distressingly grim images. The cycle was torture, and when sometime early in the morning she decided that she'd finally had enough, she kicked the covers off her body, threw on the large jumper Harry had loaned her, and made her way downstairs to the kitchen.
It was still dark, but chirping birds were welcoming a new day, one that Hermione desperately hoped she'd be able to mentally survive. Her body was weak with worry and hunger, and she knew if she didn't find a way to sleep, if she didn't force herself to eat more than a few bites of dry toast, she'd risk hurting the baby – his baby. But even as exhausted as she was, she knew she wouldn't be able to just sit around and do nothing.
She had to help find him.
Inhaling deeply, she grabbed a glass from the shelf above her and turned to the sink to fill it with water, her eyes landing on the kettle sitting on top of the stove as she turned her head.
How will you ever enjoy another cup of tea without me?
She could still hear his voice in her head, still feel how those words had affected her when he had first said them to her.
I won't, she thought. I won't be able to enjoy anything without you.
Instinctively, she moved toward the stove, one hand resting low on her stomach while the other reached out to touch the kettle. She closed her eyes and thought back to the week before they'd been given their assignment, before they'd fallen eagerly into each other's beds, wishing she could go back in time to warn him. Maybe if they hadn't been so distracted with each other they would have noticed that he was being followed, that the man they'd been looking for had been right under their noses the entire time. But when Hermione realized what she was doing, she opened her eyes and shook her head. She couldn't waste the day contemplating what-ifs. He needed her, and she couldn't let her pain distract her. She needed to figure out where he had been taken.
"It's not going to heat itself, you know."
Startled, Hermione turned to find Harry standing on the other side of the kitchen, his mouth bent into a weak smile. There were dark circles under his eyes, and despite his obvious attempt at humor, his eyes mirrored her own worry and pain. Apparently, she hadn't been the only one incapable of sleep. She quickly removed her hand from her stomach and met his eyes, attempting to return his smile.
"How are you?" Harry asked, raising his wand to light the stove.
"Terrible," she confessed, fidgeting with loose thread on the edge of the jumper. "I couldn't sleep. Every time I shut my eyes…"
Harry didn't need her to finish the sentence to know how it would have ended. "I couldn't sleep either," he replied sadly. "I kept expecting Draco to burst through the front door, yelling about the state of his flat."
"I don't know what to do with myself," Hermione said quietly, moving one arm across her body, her hand clinging to the top of her shoulder. "I feel so helpless hiding away here," she continued, shifting uncomfortably on her feet. "I should be out there helping you search for him."
Harry sighed. "I know you want to help Hermione, but I can't risk putting you in harm's way," he replied, his voice cracking as he spoke. "Draco would never forgive me if I let something happen to you."
He would want me to protect her.
"But I'll never forgive myself if I lose him without doing anything at all," she said quietly, casting her eyes over to her oldest friend. "Please, Harry," she begged, her eyes filling with tears, "at least let me go through the memories again."
It was almost too much for him, seeing Hermione so broken down, but as much as he wished he could ease her suffering, he knew there wasn't anything he could say to make it better.
"I'll have someone bring the notes by later this morning," he relented, knowing full well that if anyone was going to find something useful in them, she would be the one.
"Thank you," Hermione responded, folding her other arm across her chest and staring back out through the window into the backyard.
The sun was starting to rise, bathing the kitchen in a warm, fiery glow that quickly thawed her chilled body, providing her with a brief moment of relief before the pain returned. Hermione normally loved this time of day, when the world was waking up outside her window, but as she watched the sun climb above the horizon, she was only reminded of how cruel the passing of time could be. Each hour that passed was another hour for Rodolphus to use to hurt Draco, another hour that could be his last.
I can't think like that, she thought as her body shuddered. Not now.
"Why do you think Rodolphus came for him?" Hermione prompted suddenly, her voice cracking as she turned away from the window.
Harry was quiet for a moment. "Honestly?" he said finally. "I don't know. Draco has been back for years; it doesn't really make sense to me why Rodolphus would have waited until now to take him."
"Maybe he found someone to help him," she offered, her stomach dropping as the words left her mouth.
She had spent most of the night running through every possible scenario for why Draco was taken, but no matter what she came up with, no matter what the evidence was telling her, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing a key piece of information. There had to be a reason that Rodolphus came when he did, that he felt safe enough to kidnap an Auror from right under the Ministry's nose, and she needed to figure it out before...
"The curse he used on the boy isn't something we've seen before," Hermione continued, her eyes flickering nervously back over to Harry. "What if he discovered something new? Something that our magic can't fight against?"
Again, Harry took a moment to respond, moving a hand to his chin as he considered her words. "Rodolphus is powerful, but do you really think he's capable of that?" he paused, readjusting his glasses. "He's cunning, yes, but he doesn't really strike me as the kind of man who's all that invested in making novel magical discoveries."
He wasn't necessarily wrong, but Hermione wasn't sure he was one-hundred percent right either. Rodolphus was the worst kind of evil, a brute in every sense of the word who preferred to subject his victims to slow and bloody torture rather than offer them a quick death. While intelligence and wit had never really his strong suit, he was extremely resourceful and was willing to do anything to get what he wanted. If, as she feared, he had discovered something new, she believed that someone most likely helped him.
"What about the tree? Did the researchers ever find anything?" Hermione asked hopefully.
Harry shook his head. "They've scoured all of the texts and records in the Ministry library, but there's no mention of anything like it anywhere."
That was definitely worrisome. It was probably their best chance at figuring out where Rodolphus had been hiding.
And more importantly, where Draco had been taken.
"Is there any way you could get me those notes as well?" Hermione inquired. She wasn't sure if she'd find anything new, but she was damn well going to try.
Harry knew no amount of words or promises were going to lessen her distress. The only thing that was going to keep her from completely shutting down, he reluctantly accepted, was letting her contribute to the search to find the man she loved.
"I'll see what I can do," Harry said, reaching out to place a hand on her arm. "I don't want you to overexert yourself," he added, studying her nervously.
A whistle emanated from the kettle, interrupting their conversation, and Harry moved it off the burner before turning to look back at Hermione.
"I'll have someone bring you a draught of dreamless sleep later today," he told her. "You won't be much help if you don't get some rest."
Hermione didn't have any intention of sleeping today, but she didn't argue. "Okay," she said, instead.
Harry was somewhat relieved that she didn't protest, but that didn't stop his own anxiety from clawing its way back into the front of his brain in the short time that it took him to pull two teacups out of the cupboard and prepare their tea.
A team of Aurors had been working through the night, some out actively searching for both Rodolphus and Draco, while others stood guard outside of both Draco's and Hermione's flats. Owls had been delivering letters to him all night, keeping him apprised of their progress (and assuring he never got more than a single hour of uninterrupted rest), but there was nothing good to report. The last letter, which had been sent by Kingsley less than an hour ago, informed Harry that his team had lost Draco's trail somewhere outside of London.
After handing Hermione her cup of tea, Harry leaned back against the counter behind him and took a sip from his own cup, the warm liquid helping to sooth the pounding in his head. He was tempted to stay home and make sure Hermione was safe (and that she stayed put), but he knew that he needed to relieve the Aurors who had stayed on duty through the night.
Fighting back a yawn, he cast his gaze to the world outside his kitchen window. As Head Auror, he was used early mornings and little sleep, but the added emotional toll of the past 24 hours would have been enough to knock over a fully-grown mountain troll. And while the tea in his hand would have normally been enough to jump start his day, he knew it wasn't nearly strong enough for the day he had ahead of him. Despite his reluctance to take them, he knew he'd have to take energy potion when he got to his office. Draco's life – and Hermione's sanity – likely depended on his ability to make it through the day.
"Hermione," Harry said suddenly, tearing his eyes away from the view outside, "promise me you won't leave the house today."
"If you figure out where he is, you cannot expect me to stay here," Hermione replied, her voice eerily firm. "I don't care how worried you are about my safety. I will go to him no matter what you say."
"Hermione–"
"You would do the same for Ginny," she interrupted, her eyes once again filling with tears. "Don't ask me to stay away from the person that I love."
Harry exhaled deeply, dropping his head to his hands. He understood her pain better than anyone. When he walked into the Forbidden Forest during the Battle of Hogwarts, he accepted that his death would be worth it if it saved the people he loved, if it ended the war. He didn't doubt that she would sacrifice her safety if it meant protecting Draco, but he didn't relish the idea of losing her in the process.
He looked up, the anguish in his eyes obvious behind his glasses. "I will send my Patronus if we find him," he assured her.
Silence returned as they continued to sip their tea, neither sure what else they could say to each other.
"I have to get back to the office," Harry said after a few minutes, his empty cup dangling from one of his fingers. "Will you be okay until Ginny wakes up?"
Hermione nodded slowly. "I won't do anything rash if that's what you mean," she replied, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the outside of the cup in her own hand.
Harry walked over to her and placed a hand softly on her shoulder. "We will find him," he promised.
I have to find him, she thought as she watched her friend walk up the stairs to his bedroom.
4 hours earlier
The wind was howling, whipping harshly against his exposed skin, but Rodolphus ignored the damp chill and continued moving silently through the night, a body trailing behind him as he walked. The Ministry, it appeared, had caught on to him more quickly than he anticipated, and he had spent most of the past few hours attempting to lay a false trail. He wondered what had given him away.
The damn note, he grumbled to himself as he cast his eyes angrily behind him.
He had knocked Draco out before he could coerce him into writing one, a stupid mistake he could admit with a bit of hindsight, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He had other things to worry about.
The Aescling wouldn't be happy with him for taking Draco, his task for him had been very specific, but there was plenty of time to worry about that later. He couldn't resist such a perfect opportunity to capture his pathetic nephew, even if it meant risking the anger of his powerful, new ally or exposing himself to the Aurors who had been relentlessly hunting him for years. In the end, all would be forgiven when he delivered the real prize.
After the war, he fled the country, choosing to lay low in the Altai Mountains. He remained successfully hidden there for a couple of years until some lowly Ministry worker on vacation caught sight of him late one night as he crept into a nearby village to steal food. Knowing that the place would be flooded with Aurors by the next morning, he disappeared again, this time traveling north to Svalbard, hiding himself once again in uneasy terrain and bitter cold.
It was a ghastly existence, subsiding on a small stock of canned food he managed to procure (read: steal) from time to time and the occasional animal which unknowingly wandered into his pathetic domain. But as the years passed, it became clear that he had been successful at hiding himself, and so he stayed, biding his time until the Ministry gave up looking for him, until he could sneak his way back into Britain and exact his revenge.
So when, one particularly awful winter night, a strange man appeared outside the cave he was hiding in, promising him powers Voldemort had only dreamed of, Rodolphus didn't even wait to hear what would be requested of him in exchange. It was only when the man muttered a single name, the name of someone he knew was practically untouchable, that he began to worry that the task would be impossible.
Nothing's impossible, the man had told him before flicking his wand and demonstrating just how powerful he could become.
When Rodolphus had stopped shaking from the effects of the curse, he wiped the blood from the side of his mouth and smiled wickedly. It appeared he had just made the best kind of friend, one who would be able to teach him how to win a war that Voldemort never could.
Get me back to Britain, and I'll get you what you need, he promised resolutely.
Rodolphus paused, kneeling down to inspect a rock near his feet. Yes, he was close. He had thought it might be difficult to locate the entrance to his new hideout in the dark, but it seemed his senses were still as keen as they used to be. He cast his eyes outward, straining to make out the outline of the tree he knew was nearby, but his ears found it first, the distinct rustling of the leaves giving away its position up the hill.
He began moving up the slope, lazily flicking his wand to continue moving Draco's unconscious body. Just a little further, just a few more steps, and he could put this whole ordeal behind him. Once he touched the tree, no one would be able to find him, and once he was finally hidden away, Draco Malfoy would wake the rue the day he decided to become a hero for the wrong side.
And then, he would finally be able to get to her.
Hermione spent most of the day frantically reading through the notes one of the researchers had dropped off earlier in the morning, tossing books and papers haphazardly across the kitchen table as she worked. It was an environment she normally thrived in, treading the mysterious academic waters, but her racing thoughts had her perched precariously on the edge of a metaphorical cliff.
Draco, where are you?
Every once in a while, she would stare at the drawing he had made of the black tree from the boy's memories, and despite being impressed with the level of detail put into researching the topic, she couldn't shake the feeling that they were all missing something rather obvious. She would mumble to herself, her fingers tracing over the image as she tried to figure out what was bothering her before prying herself away from picture to bury her head in another book.
The research team had focused most of their efforts on the color of the tree, their notes recording a long list of plants that were capable of turning black under the right conditions either known or rumored to exist somewhere in Britain or elsewhere in Europe. The list was the first thing she had gone through, her eyes scanning the words, stopping here and there to look up a plant name she didn't recognize, but everything the team had compiled was much too small, much too delicate to grow into something as large as a tree. And that was when she owled for the books.
She just couldn't shake the feeling that there was something missing. There had to be.
For what felt like the thousandth time, Hermione glanced back at the drawing.
This would be so much easier if the damn tree wasn't black.
She was still busy staring at the image, her eyes tracing the intricate details on the page when she suddenly recognized what was so familiar about the tree.
Oh my god.
She stood up quickly, Accio'ing one of the Muggle botany books she had thrown onto the floor earlier in the day.
What if the tree wasn't magical at all? What if its color was simply the consequence of a magical act?
She threw open the book, flipping the pages frantically until she came to the section she had been searching for.
"Fraxinus," she breathed, her finger tracing over the words on the page as she read pieces of information out loud. "... flowering plant… mostly deciduous… common across Europe, Asia and North America…"
She gasped as her eyes fell on the pictures at the bottom of the page. No. How had they all missed this? She placed the picture Draco had drawn of the tree next to the book and nearly toppled over onto the ground.
"Oh! My! God!" she shouted, her eyes moving frantically back and forth between the pictures in the book and Draco's drawing.
Ginny, startled by her yell, came racing down the stairs, her long, red hair flying wildly behind her.
"What happened?!" she asked, her wand raised up in the air.
"The tree. It's an ash tree!" Hermione tried to explain, barely pausing to look up from the images. "No one made the connection because in the boy's memory, the tree was black," she paused breathing heavily. "The tree isn't something magical at all – it was altered by magic."
Ginny, who still had no idea what Hermione was rambling about, walked toward her friend and placed a hand on her back. "What are you talking about, Hermione?" she asked calmly, putting her wand back in her pocket.
"Ash trees are extremely common," Hermione said, finally looking at Ginny. "How could I have missed it before?" she asked, falling down heavily into the chair behind her.
Ginny picked up Draco's drawing and studied it, her eyes narrowing in confusion. "If they're so common, then how is knowing it's an ash tree helpful?" she asked, still not understanding why Hermione was so excited.
"British folklore is littered with mentions of ash trees, mostly due to the belief that the trees had protective and healing properties," Hermione replied, her hands digging through the pile of papers in front of her to uncover another book. "But there is one group whose entire mythology centers around a single ash tree."
As she finally uncovered the book – titled Magical and Mythical Plants of Europe – she had been searching for, her trembling fingers pried it open and quickly began turning the pages.
"Hermione, I still don't see–"
"The Norse," she interrupted, pushing the book toward her friend.
"Yggdrasil is the World Tree in Norse mythology. It's an ash tree," she said, her slender finger pointing to a colorful drawing on the page. "It's the center of the cosmos – it literally connects the Nine Worlds together. Odin hung himself on it as a sacrifice – it's how he gained his knowledge," she continued, her heart beating so furiously that she could barely get her words out. "The Vikings were even sometimes referred to as the Aescling which literally translates to men of ash."
"So, the tree is an ash tree. I still don't see how that helps us find Draco," Ginny said, looking up from the page.
"During the height of their power, the Vikings invaded Britain and created strongholds all over the countryside." Hermione barely blinked as she threw another large book – this one titled A History of British Rule: From Small Beginnings to Global Dominance – on the table. "Not much is known about the Norse mages, even less about those who travelled with the Vikings during their campaigns into Britain, but they were rumored to be extremely powerful."
Ginny's eyes widened in understanding. "So, you think you can connect the tree Draco saw in the boy's memory with an actual place."
"If the tree was plottable, the researchers would have found it by now," Hermione explained, opening the book. "I think it's hidden somewhere in Britain, only known to those who have seen it before or to those who know what to look for."
"Then how would we be able to find it?" Ginny asked quietly, realizing just how difficult it would be to find if that were true. "How would we even know where to start?"
"If I'm right–"
"Hermione, when are you ever not right?"
"If I'm right," Hermione repeated, narrowing her eyes slightly as she glanced at her friend, "and the black ash tree can be linked to the Norse, then it has to be located somewhere that was meaningful to them."
Ginny allowed herself a small smile as she watched Hermione bury her face behind the book on the table.
Bloody hell, she thought. She's going to figure this out.
"York is definitely a possibility," Hermione pondered, her fingers tapping anxiously on the open page before bending her head forward to scan the text. "The Norse invaded and settled there during the late 9th century," she read out loud. "It wouldn't be any more difficult than it is in London to magically conceal something there," she continued, her eyes still glued to the page. "It was certainly a seat of power for many Viking rulers, but other than that, I just don't see what would make York more culturally important than any of their other outposts, especially considering that they were eventually pushed out."
Before Ginny had a chance to blink, Hermione was turning the pages of the book again, her eyes moving furiously over the section headings in search of anything that would be remotely helpful.
"Perhaps it was Pevensey," she proposed after coming to a stop on a page with a large map. "The Normans, who were the descendants of Vikings that had settled in northern France, invaded England through Pevensey during William the Conqueror's successful campaign to win the English Throne," she summarized, tapping her finger on a location in the south of England. "One could argue that it solidified the power of Vikings and their descendants in Europe." She paused, contemplating what she had just read. "But by then the Normans were no longer Vikings in the traditional sense. Most of them would have been successfully converted to Christianity and living happily under the rule of another by then. So no, Pevensey can't be right," she rationalized. "It has to be a place that meant something to the Norse before they assimilated."
She flipped backwards in the book, looking for something more specific, something a little more ancient in history. Muttering to herself, she nixed a few more locations before she found what she had been looking for.
"The Vikings first invaded Britain at Lindisfarne," Hermione said, her eyes fixed yet again on another map. "It's still fairly secluded, cut off from the mainland during high tide and relatively undeveloped." She paused, rubbing her fingers along the sides of her face. "Yes, it has to be Lindisfarne. That makes the most sense. It's a place they would still be proud of."
"Hermione," Ginny said softly, knowing what Hermione was about to do. "We should owl Harry."
"Yes," she agreed, her eyes meeting Ginny's for the first time since she had begun flipping through the book. "Do you mind sending Rowen while I finish up a few things here?"
Ginny nodded. "I'll be right back." She walked toward the back door, pausing to place a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Be careful," she whispered, before moving the rest of the way outside. "Harry will kill me if you die."
In any other situation, on any other day, Hermione would have smiled, but not today. Today, she was preoccupied with the man she needed to save and the maniacal Death Eater she would kill if he so much as laid a finger on the father of her unborn child.
"You let her leave!?" Harry yelled as he ran through the front. "How could you let her leave?"
Ginny, who had been sitting at the kitchen table calmly sipping her tea, turned to face her incensed husband.
"Did you even finish the letter before you decided to rush over here?" she asked, biting back a smile.
Harry's face turned bright red. "Ginny, this is not funny. I told you that you needed to keep her from leaving," he said angrily. "What if she–"
Ginny stood up from her chair and closed the distance between them, her eyes glued on his as she threw her hands on her hips. "Don't you dare try to tell me that you didn't promise her she could go if someone found him," she threatened, her hands on her hips.
Harry cringed and opened his mouth to protest, but Ginny continued before he could interrupt.
"She just figured out where he was taken before you," she continued, softening her voice. "She was going whether I gave her permission or not. I thought you would appreciate the heads up."
Harry sighed deeply and buried his hands in his hair.
"Fuck," he managed after a few moments.
"She went to Lindisfarne," Ginny said, wrapping her arms around her husband to comfort him. "I don't know how she plans to locate the tree, but she wouldn't have left if she didn't have an idea where to start."
"She should have waited for backup," Harry replied, pulling her closer. "Rodolphus will try to kill her if he gets the chance."
"She's stronger than you give her credit for," Ginny said softly, placing her hands on either side of his face. "If I were in her place, and you had been taken, I would be doing exactly the same thing."
"But that's–"
"Harry, it's exactly the same and you know it," she asserted. "When you love someone, you'll do anything to protect them," she continued, her eyes still studying him. "Go. Go to Lindisfarne and look for her. She might need you before the night is over."
"Ginny, I– the kids–"
Ginny silenced him with a kiss. "Don't worry about us," she said as she pulled away. "I love you."
"I love you too," he replied, his thumb rubbing softly across her cheek.
He kissed her one more time before reluctantly stepping out of her arms and walking back toward their front door. It never got any easier leaving her knowing that he was heading into something dangerous and uncertain, but he couldn't let Hermione face whatever she was about to find alone. He walked slowly toward the front door, waving his wand to send his Patronus to Dean, telling him to meet him outside of the Ministry in five minutes. Before he Apparated, he paused to look back at Ginny, who had finally allowed the worry that had been brewing inside of her percolate to the surface.
"I'll bring them both back," he promised before disappearing into the night.
"Hopefully, alive," Ginny whispered to the empty house.
a/n: I am by no means an expert in Norse mythology or history, but as a child of a Midwestern Norwegian (who has a very, very Scandinavian name), I've always been a little obsessed with the Vikings.
Some relevant history:
- The Viking raid on Lindisfarne in AD 793 is often used to mark the start of the Viking Age in Europe. If you're into historical dramas, this raid is portrayed in one of the first few episodes of the show Vikings (although whether or not Ragnar Lothbrok was a real person and whether he was at all responsible for those events is another thing entirely).
- York (or Jórvík), and much of the Northumbria region, was under Norse control from the late 9th century until the middle of the 10th century. Ivar the Boneless (one of the real-life Viking warriors thought to be the son of Ragnar Lothbrok), led the Great Heathen Army into England and was the first (or at least one of the first) Viking to capture the city. If I remember correctly, this is also portrayed in Vikings, although it's in one of the later seasons.
- Early in the 10th century, Rollo, a Viking warrior and chieftain, became the first ruler of Normandy after agreeing to end his own campaign against the Franks and agreeing to help protect them from future Viking attacks. Some of these events are also portrayed in Vikings, but the timing of those raids and Rollo's relation to Ragnar are a pretty dubious.
- Rollo's great-great-great grandson, William the Conqueror, became the first Norman King of England after his successful invasion of England in 1066. So, in a strange sort of irony, even though the Viking Age came to end just as William came to power, a person with Viking blood still made it to the English throne.
- During the Viking Age, people on the British Isles referred to the Norse/Vikings as Danes or Northmen but for clarity I've chosen to stick with the former terms since they are more familiar to people today.
Side note – if you haven't watched The Last Kingdom on Netflix, stop reading this and go start it immediately! I enjoyed Vikings, but TLK is a whole other level of addicting.