Fifth Year, Part 2, 1996
Harry might not have known why she marched Dolores Umbridge into the middle of the Forbidden Forest that night, but Hermione had known exactly what she was doing. The centaurs' hatred of humans was legendary, as were the punishments they were known to mete out against those who had wronged them. Of course she'd known that Umbridge would thoroughly insult the centaurs, and she'd counted on Bane and his brethren taking their revenge on the pink toad, giving her and Harry an with an opportunity to escape.
Hermione wasn't sure if anyone would ever see Umbridge alive again, and that was perfectly fine with her. Just a year ago, such dark thoughts and actions would have been unfathomable to Hermione, but Machiavelli was right: sometimes the ends really did justify the means. It was hard to feel sorry for someone who'd deliberately tortured school children.
Sirius had told Harry once - and Harry had thusly passed it on to her - that we've all got light and dark inside of us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are. After hearing that, Hermione had recognised the dark parts in herself: setting Professor Snape's robes on fire during first year because she mistakenly thought he'd jinxed Harry's broom, stealing potions ingredients to brew polyjuice in the girls' bathroom in second year so Harry and Ron could break into the Slytherin dorms, capturing Rita Skeeter in her animagus form and holding her captive in a jar until the reporter caved to her blackmail scheme, creating Dumbledore's Army and the cursed parchment she made everyone sign, leading to the horrific pustules now spelling out the word 'sneak' across Marietta Edgecombe's face.
She'd done all those things and felt no remorse. Everything she'd done thus far though, including that day's foray into the Forbidden Forest, she could justify as necessary to protect Harry, to protect herself, or to fight a valiant fight against evil people. That would change tonight, although she didn't know it at the time.
She'd tried to talk Harry out of going to the Ministry to rescue Sirius, tried to convince him it was a trap, but as usual he refused to listen to logic and reason. She went along because he was her best friend, and she couldn't let him run off half-cocked and get himself killed. Had she had more time, more notice, she probably could have come up with a better strategy.
She was terrified but not surprised when Death Eaters showed up.
When Lucius Malfoy removed his mask and revealed himself, Hermione's heart caught in her throat. That mask! She knew that mask! It had haunted her since that night at the Quidditch World Cup. This was the Death Eater who had inexplicably let her go that night. It has been Lucius Malfoy all along!
Tonight though, he did not look benevolent. She'd never dreamed that he could appear so threatening, so menacing. For the first time in her short life, she was well and truly afraid of him.
"Hand over the prophecy, and no one need get hurt," he said calmly, extending a hand toward Harry.
Had it been anyone else, any other Death Eater, Hermione would not have believed those words. But it was Mr. Malfoy! She knew he'd been under the imperius curse in the beginning, she knew he had no choice but to follow Voldemort's orders if he wanted to survive. Killing a bunch of students would send him to Azkaban for sure. The witch beside him - Bellatrix Lestrange - seemed very unstable, but Mr. Malfoy, obviously in the lead here, was calm and in control and just wanted the little glass ball in Harry's hand. She wished the Death Eaters were far enough away that she could whisper to Harry to just give them the prophecy. Whatever was in that swirling mist in the jar was not worth their lives.
Even as she stood frozen in fear, Hermione's admiration for the blond wizard grew as she watched him try to calm Bellatrix, who it seemed was prepared to do anything to get that prophecy. Harry wasn't helping the situation by taunting the deranged woman about Voldemort being a half-blood.
Hermione tugged at the back of Harry's robes and urgently whispered to him. "Don't argue with her, she's ready to kill us all!"
Harry took a small step back, stepping on her toes, and then and whispered to fire on the shelves laden with prophecies as a distraction that would hopefully allow them to escape. Destruction on the scale Harry was calling for seemed like a very bad idea that would escalate the situation further and get them into a heap of trouble with the Ministry, but Hermione knew that there was no way Harry would willingly hand over something Voldemort wanted. He'd also never trust that Lucius would let them escape.
A reducto cast at all of those prophecies would also likely shower both them and the Death Eaters with glass as they tried to escape, but in the heat of the moment, she couldn't come up with a better plan that she thought Harry would actually agree to, so she passed the message along as she listened to Mr. Malfoy discuss the prophecy with Harry.
Six reductos cast at once created a spectacular explosion of glass that then triggered other glass orbs to break as well, setting off a chain reaction. Once the glass was broken, all of the destroyed prophecies swirled into a blinding mist and a chaotic cacophony of spectral voices. Hermione stayed close to Harry as they fled the Hall of Prophecies amidst a downpour of glass and dangerously wobbling shelves, Death Eaters on their heels, and curses flying.
By the time they got out of the Hall of Prophecies and sought refuge in an antechamber behind a sealed door, they'd lost Ginny, Luna, Neville, and Ron. Harry's strategy to blow up the prophecies had escalated a tense standoff into an all out battle, and Hermione desperately wondered if there was a way to salvage this situation before someone ended up dead.
"They've split up."
Hermione grabbed Harry's sleeve, and they paused in the dark to listen to Lucius Malfoy on the other side of the door.
"I do not want a body count. Potter is to be handled gently. Getting the prophecy is our only objective."
Hermione and Harry looked at each other in surprise at Mr. Malfoy's insistence that he not be harmed.
"And the others?" She didn't recognize the voice of the other Death Eater.
"We are not here to murder school children, Dolohov. Anyone injured will be left behind. The Dark Lord cares more about the prophecy. We take it from Potter, and we get out before the Aurors come."
"Scared of the Aurors? Afraid to go to Azkaban? No sacrifice is too great for the Dark Lord!" Bellatrix sounded unhinged.
"Shut up Bell and listen to Malfoy," someone else said. "Do you want to get tortured for failure? Because I sure don't."
Lucius must have ignored the both of them because he went on to divide up their team to search the area. Hermione knew Voldemort was cruel, and it wasn't surprising that He tortured His followers if they failed him, but the idea that Lucius Malfoy, her Lucius, who she knew hadn't wanted to be there in the first place, would be tortured all for a stupid glass jar full of mist was just too much for Hermione to bear. His actions the night of the Quidditch World Cup were proof enough to her that he was not a bad person. If he'd wanted to harm her - a mere muggleborn alone in the woods - he would have done so then.
If Lucius was adamant about just getting the prophecy and leaving without anyone being killed, then that was their way out, Hermione decided. If she acted quickly, she could save her friends and the dark wizard she adored.
"Harry, give me the prophecy!" she whispered urgently.
Harry looked at her with wide eyes.
"What?!"
"They think you have it. You're their target. Let me take it. They'll never suspect that someone else has it!"
Harry clutched the prophecy, and she could see the uncertainty on his face.
"I don't want to make you a target. You're muggleborn. They're...they're Death Eaters," he said.
"You heard Mr. Malfoy. They just want the prophecy. They aren't here to murder people."
When Harry still hesitated, Hermione steeled herself and went for the guilt trip. "I was right about Sirius, about this being a trap. I'm right about this too. Let me do this."
After a brief hesitation, Harry pressed the prophecy into her hand. "You're right. Let's find the others and get out of here. Whatever this is must be very important for them to go to all this trouble."
She put a protective charm around the orb to keep it from breaking before slipping it into her robes. The prophecy felt heavy in her pocket, the enormity of what she planned to do weighing heavily on her. If she gave the prophecy to Lucius Malfoy, they could leave unharmed, and she would protect Lucius from torture or even worse at the hands of his evil master. It was the right thing to do, she told herself.
"We need to find Ron and the others," he said.
"You find the others. They may have injuries and need help. We'll meet back at the lobby," she said. "Whoever gets there first sends word for help. Got it?"
"I won't leave you."
"I'll be fine. If anything, you'll draw them away from me. Go!" she hissed.
Hermione made her way alone through the maze of halls, hidden under a disillusionment charm, looking for Mr. Malfoy. Her heart pounded frantically in her chest. If she did this, there was no turning back. She was lying to Harry and maybe even helping Voldemort's cause, a cause she loathed with every fibre of her being. There was still time to turn around, to head back toward the lifts and to safety. Even if she tried to help Mr. Malfoy, he might not be alone. Even if he was, he might attack her on sight before she could get the prophecy to him.
She remembered then how the spiders had looked as Professor Moody - or rather Barty Crouch Jr. pretending to be Mad-Eye Moody - used the cruciatus curse on them. The thought of Voldemort doing that to Lucius was so utterly horrid she dared not dwell on it. She would succeed, no matter what.
At last she found him, alone in a darkened room, methodically and quietly searching for her friends. She used a nonverbal spell to close the door behind her, causing Lucius to spin around.
"Who's there?" he hissed.
He cast hominem revelio, and before Hermione could get out a single world, he had burned through her disillusionment charm and grabbed her, shoving her hard against the door, his gloved hand around her throat.
"Where is Potter?" he demanded.
There was enough pressure on her airway that Hermione reached up with both hands to claw at his arm. Her fingernails were worthless against the dragonhide armor of his Death Eater robes. He let go of her throat then to grab both of her wrists and slam them into the door, pinning them above her head. She squirmed in his grasp, uncomfortable with his tight grip and the way he'd slammed her into the door, banging her head against the wood in the process. He was so close to her though, so close to her, and touching her, and it sent a rush of adrenaline through her that she'd never experienced before.
"Where is he?"
"I have it," she gasped.
She dared to raise her eyes to his, and in his cold grey eyes she saw determination and just a hint of confusion.
"The prophecy - he gave it to me. I have it. Take it."
He moved back from her but didn't release her wrists.
"Take it? What have you done to it?" he asked, twisting her right wrist painfully.
"Nothing! Nothing, I swear!" she gasped.
"I find that hard to believe Miss Granger. Why would you willingly hand over what Potter was willing to destroy hundreds of other prophecies to protect?"
He'd stopped twisting her wrist, but he brought his other hand back to her neck and shoved a knee between her legs, pinning her still and making her heart race and breath come in pants. Oh God, no boy, no man had ever pinned her like this, and despite her fear, she was embarrassed to admit to herself that she was a tiny bit aroused by it. Had she not been so terrified, she would have enjoyed his closeness. Did Mr. Malfoy - Lucius, she really ought to think of him as Lucius - have any idea what sort of confusing feelings he stirred in her?
"Tell me. I am losing my patience Miss Granger."
"You said no one would get hurt," she gasped. "You said… you just wanted the prophecy. Harry doesn't listen. I told him it was a trap. I don't want anyone to get hurt."
He looked stunned at this pronouncement.
"You trust the word of a Death Eater?"
"You were imperious'd. In the first war. I read it. And now you're trapped because He's back, and no one marked can refuse Him, and He tortures and kills those who fail him," she pushed out in a breathless voice. "I know you don't want to be here."
He stared at her, a mix of confusion and shock on his face, so she kept speaking.
"I know you're...you're not a bad person. You could have hurt me at the Quidditch World Cup. I was all alone in the woods, but you let me go. I know it was you - your mask. You were wearing the same mask that night," she stammered.
A flash of recognition crossed his face then.
"You?"
She tried to nod, to give him a sign that she was the girl in the woods he'd directed to safety.
He continued to stare at her, as if he was unsure what to do with her. She could see the indecision on his face as his eyes met hers, and then at last he seemed to refocus on the present and on her offer.
"So you're giving the prophecy to me? Trying to save my soul? What will Potter say when you learns of your treachery?"
He smirked at the guilty expression on her face. "You don't plan to tell him then. Pity about your dirty blood - you'd have made a fine Slytherin. Cunning, self-preservation. I'm impressed. Tell me, how did you plan to get past Dumbledore? Or did you not know he's a legilimens?"
She stared at him in horror. In her desperation to protect both Harry and Lucius, it hadn't occurred to her that she'd need to answer to their headmaster and head of the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore was a legilimens? How had she not known that?
"Where is the prophecy?" he asked.
"In my robe pocket. Right side. If you'll let go of me, I'll give it to you."
"And have him pick your prodigious brain and see how you've betrayed his precious Order?"
She stared up at him, and he laughed lightly at her look of surprise.
"Yes, I know all about it, and that it's been reborn like the phoenix it's named for," he said. His lips twisted then in a mockery of a smile.
"No, let's create a more compelling memory for him to see, shall we?"
Before Hermione could respond, his hand wrapped tightly around her throat, making her gasp for breath and struggle against his hold.
"Where is the prophecy? Tell me now, or I will squeeze every last breath from your filthy body," he hissed.
Her eyes widened in fear at the menacing look on his face.
"Can't breathe!" she gasped, horrified at the turn in conversation.
"The prophecy?"
Her throat ached, her lungs burned, and she was beginning to feel dizzy from lack of oxygen. Black spots flashed at the edges of her vision.
"My robe pocket. Right side! Protected with a cushioning charm," she sputtered. He was surely going to crush her trachea if he didn't stop.
He released her at once, and she leaned forward, bracing her hands on her knees and frantically gasping for breath. She never saw the blow coming. Pain exploded across the side of her face as he backhanded her and sent her sprawling onto the ground.
"Stop! Please!" she cried in fear and confusion. "You can have it!"
He was on top of her at once, and she cried out in panic and tried to push him away. She felt his hand inside her robe, and in seconds he stood, prophecy in hand. Hermione pushed herself into a sitting position and wiped at her eyes, embarrassed at crying in front of him and horrified at the violent turn this encounter had taken. She wanted to palm her wand and hex him, but she was too stunned by what he'd just done to retaliate or even protect herself.
Lucius extended a hand to her, and she stared at him in shock.
"When you speak to Albus Dumbledore, think about what I just did," he said as he jerked her up from the floor.
"What?"
He grasped her chin gently and turned her face to the side. "Yes, you'll bruise nicely."
"You… you," she stammered, unable to put words to what he'd just done to her.
"I gave you a believable memory for that doddering old fool. Focus on that memory and how you felt during it, and you'll be fine."
She nodded mutely, cringing at a crash that sounded very close by.
"Go. I'll hold them back while you leave," he said as he tucked the prophecy into his own robes. "Do me a favor and wait a few minutes before you call for the Aurors, hmm?"
She picked up her wand and gave him a brief nod and one last look before leaving.
~oOo~
So there it is: Hermione's turning point. Was it what you expected? I'd love to hear your thoughts!