Chapter 12 - Alternate ending

Feeling like an Inferius, Hermione climbed the front porch steps of 12 Grimmauld Place. Her tears had dried, but it was obvious that she had been crying. Not much to be done about that. She took a deep, steadying breath and knocked. After a pause, she heard a flurry of muffled noises behind the dark green, oak door.

"Who is it?" Mrs. Weasley's groggy voice called out.

"Hermione." But her throat was dry, and her answer was not much more than a rasp.

"Who?" Hermione heard more footsteps.

"Hermione," she repeated, louder and not without considerable effort.

A cacophony of excited voices spoke over each other as the door began to open. Before it could open more than a crack, the door slammed closed with a bang and she heard Lupin's gruff voice.

"Ask her."

"But Remus!" Mrs. Weasley protested.

"She could be injured!" Harry countered.

"Ask. Her."

Ron's voice rang out next. "Who did you turn into the first time you took Polyjuice potion?"

She smiled ruefully at the memory. It was a trick question. Ron could be quite clever when he wanted to be. She raised her voice again and answered, "Millicent Bulstrode's cat."

At this, the door flung open, and she was pulled inside, smothered by a throng of warm bodies, all hugging and kissing her. Questions and exclamations surrounded her, coming much faster than she could process.

"Where have you been!"

"I was at—"

"— have you seen Padma?"

"No, she—"

"Are you hurt?"

"I don't… No—"

"Was it the Death Eaters?"

"Yes, but—"

"— wearing a Hogwarts uniform?"

"I—"

"Is that a Slytherin tie?"

She buried her face in her hands and groaned.

"Back off, you lot! Give her some air!"

Mrs. Weasley wrapped her in a soft, motherly embrace and helped her upstairs to her room. Harry and Ron followed, but the matron shooed them away.

"We don't even know if she's hurt yet."

"She said she wasn't!" Ron argued, but she silenced him with a glare.

"Can't you see she's not feeling quite right? Leave us alone for a while. You can have her later."

She pushed them out and shut the door on their loud protests. Hermione didn't much want to talk to Mrs. Weasley, but she was thankful for efforts in evoking quiet. Feeling dazed, she sat down on her bed and watched Mrs. Weasley cast an Imperturbable Charm on the door. Harry and Ron cursed as they realized that Extendable Ears wouldn't work. Her lips pulled into a half smile. Nothing got past this woman. She had raised seven Weasley children, after all—including the twins.

Mrs. Weasley cast a silencing charm on the door to muffle their protestations.

"Now then, dear." The bed creaked and dipped as Mrs. Weasley sat beside her. She took Hermione's hand and looked into the eyes. "Are you alright? Are you injured?"

Hermione tried to answer, but her voice caught. She had to clear it before speaking. "Yes, I'm fine. It was just… A very exhausting experience."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes searched her face and her body, trying to see what was amiss. Uncomfortable with her scrutiny, Hermione looked down.

"How about I make you a cup of tea and bring you some biscuits?" She patted Hermione's hand. "You get off to bed, and we'll talk in the morning."

"No, Mrs. Weasley, I need…" She took a breath. Mrs. Weasley looked at her patiently. "I have to tell you. There's a lot we don't know. And then…" She cleared her throat again. "You'll need to tell the rest of the Order. Tonight. I just can't face them right now."

Mrs. Weasley's lips parted slightly. Hermione could sense her anxiety and appreciated her restraint in not bombarding her with questions.

"All right, then."

She waited for Hermione to speak, but Hermione couldn't quite find the words. All she could see was Draco disappearing into the Forbidden Forest, leaving her forever.

She squeezed her eyes tight and felt more hot tears spill.

"Shhhhh… There, there." Mrs. Weasley drew her into a hug and stroked her hair. Hermione let her body relax and lay limp against her plump, comforting body. "You don't have to say anything now, dear. Just get some—"

"No." Hermione wiped her eyes and then hiccupped a sob. "It was Padma."

"Padma? Where is she? Was she with you? We've been look—"

"She's a traitor," she said, rubbing her eyes again. "She betrayed me."

Mrs. Weasley didn't say anything for a minute, and then asked, "Are you sure it was her?" Her ring snagged in Hermione's curls. She winced as Mrs. Weasley extracted her fingers.

"Yes," Hermione said, her voice muffled. "She knew about the time that Ginny…"

Mrs. Weasley tensed, her hand paused in mid-air.

"She knew." And Hermione left it at that.

Mrs. Weasley resumed stroking her hair, more gently now. "Where is Padma now?"

Hermione sat up and pressed her palms to her eyes. They were swollen and itchy from crying. "I don't know. I didn't see her. I should have asked. but I didn't think…"

"You can't think of everything all of the time, especially considering the circumstances," Mrs. Weasley said. She waved her wand in front of Hermione's face.

Gradually, the itching stopped and the swelling went down. Hermione removed her hands. Her vision had cleared, the blurriness of her tears gone. She gave Mrs. Weasley a grateful smile.

"Thanks."

"Where have you been all this time?"

Hermione's head snapped up. "What?"

"You've been gone for a week, dear."

Hermione felt her stomach lurch. "A week?"

"You don't remember?"

Her voice came out in a rush. "No! I thought I was just there one night! I need…" She looked around, searching for what she knew wasn't there. "I need a wand! I have to talk with Harry and Ron! The mission! We need to —"

Mrs. Weasley caught Hermione's hands and pressed them down to her lap. Hermione's panic must have shown in her eyes. Mrs. Weasley gave her hands a light squeeze. "You need to rest. Why don't you just lie down—"

"No, let me finish." Hermione felt like she would start crying again. She had already started her story and didn't want to have to rehash the events of the night—of the week— again. "Please." Mrs. Weasley said nothing; she just pursed her lips and nodded.

"They brought me to Malfoy Manor."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't comment. The Order had thought the Manor to be abandoned.

"Did they hurt you?"

Hermione looked down at her hands. "No, it wasn't like that. I…" She wasn't sure how much she should tell, or how much she wanted to.

"Did they… Force you?" Mrs. Weasley's tone was too light, feigning much more nonchalance than she must have felt.

Hermione closed her eyes as she remembered Draco's tongue curling back into his mouth when he first tasted her blood, and the look in his eyes. Unbidden, images came to her: Draco kissing her, licking her, biting her, fucking her. His moans of ecstasy as she drank from him echoed in her ears. She opened her eyes to see Mrs. Weasley searching her face again.

"I… No. Not really. It's… Complicated."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes hardened, and the grip on her hands tightened slightly. Hermione swallowed. She had to tell them about Draco. They needed to know, and she couldn't risk their ignorance harming them one day.

"No, Mrs. Weasley, really. He didn't… He let me go. He brought me back safely to the Hogwarts' Portkey."

"Who did, dear?"

She felt her voice constrict around his name. "Draco Malfoy."

Mrs. Weasley knitted her brows in concern. Hermione pulled her hands back.

"Draco Malfoy?"

"He's a vampire now."

"You can't be serious!" Mrs. Weasley gasped.

"And a very strong wizard. The change has amplified his magic. He performs non-verbal spells, wandlessly, with more ease and power than we do with wands."

She looked incredulous. "How is that even possible? I thought if a wizard turned into a vampire—"

"I don't know, but I've seen it. He's powerful."

"Then why hasn't he been fighting?"

Hermione looked pleadingly into Mrs. Weasley's disbelieving eyes. "The Death Eaters weren't aware, and he didn't let them know. I've been telling everyone all these years: Draco doesn't care for their cause; it was only his parents he worried about."

"What has he been doing for them?"

"What would a vampire do as a Death Eater? Torturing, executing… I don't rightly know. I don't think I want to."

"Is that why you were brought to him?"

Hermione nodded and looked at her hands.

"But instead of killing you, he let you go," Mrs. Weasley said, searching Hermione's face. Hermione nodded again, wordlessly.

"Then why have you been crying, dear? What did he do to you? Did he..."

Hermione took a deep breath and looked into Mrs. Weasley's sympathetic eyes.

"He…" Hermione hiccupped, and a sob broke through. She couldn't keep it in anymore. "He left!" Mrs. Weasley looked surprised, not expecting that answer but drawing her into a warm embrace just the same.

"He… left?"

She spoke through her tears. "I tried to persuade him to come to our side, to fight with us. I thought he would! But he said he didn't think he'd be able to control himself. He thought that he would…" Her shoulders heaved with another sob. "And now, he's gone!" Her voice cracked, and tears streamed down her face anew. Mrs. Weasley tightened her hold and slowly rocked her.

"Shhh," Mrs. Weasley said. "Hush, now."

She held her until Hermione's sobs weakened and the tears stopped coming. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Mrs. Weasley spoke again. "You'd best get to bed. You'll feel stronger tomorrow after a good rest. Let's get you out of that uniform."

Hermione stood up and started undressing herself, placing the Slytherin tie on her nightstand. She felt like a ragdoll as Mrs. Weasley began tugging on her sleeves, hurrying the process along. She glanced around for her nightclothes and smiled gratefully as they were pressed into her hands.

"Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?" She could see Mrs. Weasley checking her body surreptitiously for bruises as she pulled the plaid flannel nightshirt over her head.

Hermione shook her head. "No, thanks."

After slipping on her pajamas, Hermione crawled under the blankets. Mrs. Weasley kissed her forehead.

"I won't tell them about that last part," she whispered, giving Hermione a pitying look and turning towards the bedroom door.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered back.

She opened the door, and Hermione could see Ron and Harry straining to see past Mrs. Weasley's plump frame into the bedroom's darkness. Mrs. Weasley closed the door, which was immediately followed by mutinous shouting. Hermione smiled at their insistence on seeing her. It was good to know that she was loved so deeply, but she just couldn't deal with Harry and Ron right now. Mrs. Weasley seemed to understand that.

As she drifted off to sleep, she heard snippets of conversation travel up from the kitchen.

"Padma did what?"

"—blamed her for Parvati—"

"—a bloody vampire?"

"Watch your language! You're not so old that I won't—"

Hermione turned to look out the window.

"—let her go?"

"—not sure what he did to her—"

"—how vampires are Molly, don't be naïve."

As her eyes slowly drifted shut, she thought she saw a hooded figure standing on the rooftop of the adjacent house.

"—don't think she remembers—"

"—smells different."

It was dark, and she was tired. Her eyes must have been playing tricks on her. She pulled the green and silver tie that Draco had given her off the nightstand and held it close as she drifted off to sleep.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Harry and Ron sat on her bed, having brought breakfast up to her. Or maybe it was lunch. The sun looked to be fairly high in the sky. Harry studied her, trying to see if her expressions would reveal what Mrs. Weasley had left out, or what Hermione wouldn't say. They thought she couldn't remember everything. She had heard them discussing her in the kitchen. They were trying to figure out exactly what had happened to her. She felt like she was under a microscope.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked for the third time.

"I'm fine, Harry," she said, trying and failing to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

Ron glanced at Harry, an I-told-you-so look on his face.

"Can we get you anything?" Ron asked cautiously.

Hermione gave a tired sigh. "Food and rest should be enough. Thanks."

"Are you sure you're not in pain? We have plenty of potions and salves. You're not wounded, are you?"

His eyes slipped furtively to her neck, where her hair was pulled back. If Draco hadn't healed her wounds so proficiently, the bite marks would be clearly seen. At least Ron had the decency to blush when she caught him searching.

"No, not wounded. Would you feel better if I was?" Ron's face fell, and she immediately regretted her snappish words.

"Come on, Hermione," Harry chastised her. "We care about you. We know you've been though a lot, but you don't have to be such a…" His voice trailed off.

"Bitch?" she said with a half grin.

"Yes," he said with a sheepish smile and pushed his glasses up his nose. "But you're our bitch," he clarified warmly.

Hermione understood it as a term of endearment, a full acceptance of her pragmatism, which admittedly bordered on ruthlessness sometimes.

"Stuff it," she replied with a quirk of her lips. "Look. Harry, Ron, I'm sorry. It's just… Can we please discuss something important? The diadem, for example?"

"Destroyed," Ron answered, struggling to keep his bright blue eyes on her face instead of her neck. "But we had a hell of a time doing it without you."

She sipped her tea. "And you confirmed the cup is in the Lestrange vault?"

"It's in the vault alright," Harry said. His eyes shifted up from her neck. He had been looking when he thought she hadn't been paying attention. "But there was no time to plan the break in. We were busy."

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Searching for you and Padma," he continued.

"Oh," she said quietly, and then gave them a small smile. It was good to know that they could still function without her; they often didn't give themselves enough credit. "That's good. When will Bill get here? We'll need his help to break into Gringotts."

"He said he'll be here tonight," Ron said, continuing cautiously, "Are you sure you're up for this?"

"Yes." Hermione tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice. She noticed that Ron and Harry were fidgeting more than usual. Not a good sign. Their restraint was failing.

Ron continued, despite her tone. "He has all of the floor plans and an interactive map of the caverns below that he got from one of his Goblin contacts."

Hermione nodded while swallowing some scrambled eggs. "That's good. I'd hate to get lost down there. Those tunnels go on for miles."

She had just raised another forkful to her mouth when Ron suddenly blurted out, "Did he drink from you?"

Her hand paused, and then lowered, the fork clinking against the plate. She sighed and closed her eyes to gather her composure. When she opened them again, both Harry and Ron were staring at her, not letting her off the hook.

"Yes."

Ron's eyes flashed in anger, and his hands balled into fists. Harry swallowed and continued the query. "And did he—"

"Look," she said, cutting him off. "He's a vampire. That's what vampires do. He drank from me, he healed me, and then he let me go. He's not truly on their side; he never has been. I've been telling you that all along. And I…I…" She didn't want to start crying again, so she summoned a tone of reprimand, hoping she didn't sound too defensive. "I really don't want to talk about it anymore."

Ron glared daggers at her. Frustrating as they were, she knew it came from the protective love that the three felt towards each other. They had been through so much together. She brought her eyes to Harry, who observed her with an odd expression, one that unsettled her more than Ron's anger.

She supposed that they would more or less guess what had happened. Ron would be in denial for a while, not quite thinking beyond getting revenge. But Harry? He knew. She could see it in his eyes. They had studied vampires in Defence Against the Dark Arts. She shifted uncomfortably on her bed; Harry's gaze made her queasy. She could deal with Ron's anger, but she couldn't sit here with Harry looking at her like that.

She climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

"I'm going out for a walk."

Ron piped up. "Do you want us to—"

"No," she snapped. She stopped at the doorway and took a steadying breath. "No, thank you," she said with genuine contriteness. She turned around to look at her two best friends. They were only trying to help her, to support her. "I'll see you this evening when Bill comes."

Ron and Harry watched Hermione as she exited the room and shut the bathroom door behind her. A few minutes later, they heard her turn on the shower.

Ron stared at the doorway, and then exhaled sharply through his nose. "Harry, I'm going to kill him."

"He's already dead," Harry quipped.

"Not dead enough."