Because nothing good had ever come of her being locked up, Hermione did not sit about and pine. She changed out of the serpent gown, had a shower that was more scour than wash, and dressed for tumult. Checking the door, she couldn't hear Siglinde Rosier any more or much of anything. The house was quiet.
Her instincts told her to escape. Her rational mind, such was still operating in a stew of adrenaline and fear, told her to sit tight. She paced. They'd left Nott at Malfoy Manor, which was not something she was proud of but she'd hardly had the chance to drag him away. He didn't have a crazy grandmother to hide behind. His father had gone to school with Tom Riddle. It was questionable whether Theo would've left with them even if she'd had a moment to explain.
Sturgis Podmore was dead. Before, a past on the other side of an increasing gulf, he'd disappeared. The Order had thought he was upset and/or embarrassed about trying to steal the Prophecy or traumatised after six months in Azkaban. He'd made sporadic contact after his release then they'd lost touch. Hermione didn't know if anyone had tried to track him down during the year she'd been on the run.
She wondered if the same thing had happened to Caradoc Dearborn, whose body had never been found. All that had been left of Sturgis was the sacrament, the thought of which turned her stomach. Hermione went to the bathroom and stuck her fingers down her throat but all that came up was bile and the remains of the canapé. The magic of the rite had already been absorbed into her body.
That gave her something practical to do. Hermione sat on the edge of the bed and cast diagnostic spells on herself. Every last one she knew. What she learned was other than many things she was not, she was healthy, not counting a slight vitamin D deficiency, near the end of her monthly cycle, over-stressed, and had recently been exposed to a significant amount of Dark magic.
That last detection charm would've been extremely useful during the horcrux hunt to give an impartial assessment of exposure. She'd found it in Fourth Year this time around when she'd had leisure to read rather than frantically search the library for ways to keep her best friend alive. This was the first time she'd had an unequivocal result.
Unfortunately the spell only showed the presence not the cause or result. There were charms for that but they were restricted to Aurors and medical personnel. Quite possibly because the Ministry wanted to discourage idle forays into the Dark by the cautious. The stupid or the ambitious would always jump in but sensible intellectuals who wanted to dip a toe into the forbidden would want means to monitor their exposure. By limiting access to 'first aid' the curious would be reluctant to risk contaminating themselves.
That was the same sort of thinking that assumed not teaching about contraceptives would keep people from having sex. Hermione would much rather be armed with a condom and a solid understanding of Emunda Malus Vitio spells than to go into either life experience unprepared. That chain of thought brought her to Snape's advice about the purity of her body.
Would it count if she did it herself? She wasn't innocent of spirit or of mind, though she blushed a bit at the prospect of asking someone to lend her a hand. Or any other body part. And she definitely didn't want to attempt her insurance while under the influence of the solstice sacrament. Seducing Nott while Beatrix and Eustace were guests in his house wouldn't be impossible. Magical chaperonage was more about unauthorised bonding than free range copulation but still... awkward.
Siglinde Rosier would seclude herself in Tristan Nott's private apartments while the Radnotts were visiting. They would not, as guests of the old school, snoop or pry. Whether they suspected Theo was hosting Death Eaters, who could say? Their sympathies were not with the Ministry and they were traditionalists but Hermione didn't think they wished to be involved in bloody politics. They were a nice old couple who had taken an interest in two young persons in need of counsel.
Hermione stood to pace some more and compose lies. She shouldn't have told Theo who the sacrifice was. Cathal didn't know Podmore, only seen him in passing in the Daily Prophet. Would he ask outright? Maybe. She needn't furnish an explanation unless he did. Over-justification made you look guilty. Having something in reserve would be handy though. She was pants at hasty improvisation.
Someone knocked on her door at 3:12am. Hermione drew her wand before trying the knob again. Still locked. An Alohomora did nothing. She hadn't expected it to. Siglinde wasn't going to protect her heir with a charm a child could undo.
"Cathal?" Theo's voice came faintly through the wood.
"Yes." She could've said something witty but frankly she was feeling a bit lacking in that department.
"Stand back." He cautioned before there was some muttering. The door slammed backwards and would've collected her if she hadn't followed his suggestion. Esne stood by his Master, looking drained. Theo dismissed him to rest. House elves could open any lock within their demesne however overcoming wizarding magic took a toll. "Are you alright?"
"I should ask you the same question." Hermione looked him over. He seemed fine if perhaps a bit worn at the edges.
"Not a party I'd care to repeat." Theo stepped quickly into the room, shutting the door behind him. Madam Rosier had collapsed into exhaustion after warding half the house. She couldn't keep him out but anyone with hostile intent would have painted the walls red. His house elves had told him what she'd done, before integrating her protections into the domestic schema. They weren't feeling hospitable either.
"Sorry about leaving you there." The apology seemed feeble.
"I've been to gatherings before. Father took me to a few. It was expected." Theo shrugged, not sharing his revelation of how different the meeting had been without his dad's presence. Madam Lestrange hadn't looked at him like he was carrion under Tristan Nott's dour eye. With his father in gaol, he could hear the hounds baying.
"The opposite of fun, though." If she hadn't been so shaken, so relieved she hadn't gone shrieking to her death, she would've reined in her tongue. Now it was all she could do not to babble. "I wasn't sorry to be dragged away, not if Bellatrix is keen on me marrying her nephew. Their crazy is definitely heritable."
"Your grandmother..." He didn't catch his tongue in time. Her cyan eyes sharpened on him. He bowed his head fractionally. "I mean no disrespect."
"I'm aware my grandmother isn't mentally robust." Hermione picked her words carefully, suddenly brought back to the realisation she wasn't safe here either. She'd temporarily forgotten in her haste to get away from Voldemort that Theo wasn't her ally. Inhaling slowly, she sought for tact. There ought to be a potion for it, she was always running out. "Is there something else you'd like to say?"
There wasn't. Nott excused himself, leaving her in the unlocked room. Hermione swore once she was alone, or probably alone given house elves were ever-present. What they thought of Cathal's potty mouth she hoped not to find out.
The rest of the holiday was sedentary. The Radnotts arrived for brunch and tried their best to jolly the teenagers into some festivities. They exchanged gifts for Yule and played a traditional game of catching dancing puddings. Theo got the one with the hidden sixpence. The weather was stormy and miserable, resistant to Warming Charms. Hermione went out once, came back saturated even with an Impervius Charm and not entirely convinced that she shouldn't have worn a wetsuit.
She stood dripping on the threshold trying to juggle her shopping, dry herself with her wand, and shut the door discreetly. The wind took the heavy oak out of her hand and slammed it. Nissy, one of the Rosier elves and Siglinde's personal attendant, appeared instantly at the noise. Beatrix stuck her head around the parlour door. Theo came quickly wand out down the stairs from the library.
"Just the door." Hermione said, pinking already at the inevitability of the required explanation for her excursion. She'd slipped away after breakfast with the vague excuse of gathering holly in the spinney. No one had been enthusiastic enough about the errand to offer to go with her so she'd simply kept walking out of the copse of trees across a fallow field to a road lined with hedges. During the summer she'd seen the lights of the distant village of Grasmere when stargazing.
The charm of the Lake District was rather diminished in the sodding rain but she had found the pharmacy for some essentials and diverted to the Gingerbread Shop for indulgences. She'd cut some holly on the way back. The bundled branches lay at her feet where she had dropped them to free a hand.
"You look all of a muddle, dear. Let me help." Beatrix padded into the hall in crimson house slippers, which she wore for the season and the stone floors. "Tergeo." She siphoned the water off the girl so she could hang up her coat. Privately the older witch thought the ratty tweed should go out with the rubbish but she minded her tongue. Too many Misses would pettishly demand new things rather than make do with mending charms. "Give your boots to the elves or they'll smell like a swamp when they're aired."
"I need to look up the fabric interactions with repellent charms." Hermione unzipped her footwear, feeling boggy in her socks. The boots were a found pair from the Room of Hidden Things she'd put aside until she'd grown into them. She'd thought they were leather but evidenced by their disdain of the Impervius Charm they must be synthetic. Plastics did not take magic well.
"Miss should wear proper Rosier clothes." Nissy snatched Master Evan's little girl's horrible coat as soon as Miss shrugged off the nasty thing. If young Mister Nott was not seeing, she would take all Miss's wearings. "Socks!"
Hermione complied with the command. She gave Theo the holly, which they needed for a Potions exercise, but determinedly kept the shopping bags. He raised an eyebrow at her insistence on going burdened to her room.
"Secret women's business." She said tersely. Theo took the hint, himself, and the holly off to the laboratory. Beatrix waited until he was out of hearing before speaking.
"There are some charms for the red moon. I know it's not done now at Hogwarts to teach shriving and purification magics but I could show you." Madam Radnott had never enjoyed that time of the month. She had been grateful to become a crone, to be done with all that mess and discomfort and disappointment. "You needn't resort to Muggle things."
"Madam Pomfrey has a class for 'private matters for girls'." Hermione couldn't help rolling her eyes. Her parents... Granger's parents had handled her health education much better. Her mother had shown her different products and how they worked well before they were necessary. Her father had answered questions without any squeamishness. There had been informative diagrams. "But I'd be happy to learn the charms, thank you."
Beatrix shooed her upstairs to change before they settled down to an interesting excursion into the menstrual rituals of yesteryear. The popular current products were all pads with some version of a vanishing charm. Some attached to belts while the newest mimicked Muggle products by sticking onto underwear. There were permanent ones too, built into knickers, though they tended to be expensive.
The 'sitting in blood' aspect revolted the genteel Beatrix, and Vanishing Charms didn't always send the substance into non-being. With tailored spells, unscrupulous people could collect what was vanished. In this instance for blood magic or dark potions. Far better to personally cast a charm that rested inside and could manage even the heaviest flow.
Hermione repeated the intricate wand movements, likely the reason most witches had switched to the easier products, until she was certain then cast the spell. There was a slight feeling of pressure. It wasn't uncomfortable but enough was going on down there that another sensation wasn't appreciated. Still, she wished she'd known this charm during the Year in the Tent. She would've felt cleaner at least.
There were all sorts of personal grooming spells that were no longer taught. Most were commonplace but there was a large contingent for ritual purification to render oneself inert to avoid contaminating magical workings. Hermione got out her journal to make notes as Beatrix cast her mind back to all the cleansing spells she'd learned. The class had been combined with a domestic charms course after she had graduated then later the subject had been dropped entirely as something best taught at home.
Which neatly cut Muggle-borns out of learning any of it.
After the lesson, Hermione went upstairs. She removed the charm and used a tampon instead. Her decision had little to do with hygiene or comfort. She'd bought the Muggle sanitary items because she needed blood to experiment upon and this was the most surreptitiously plausible means of gathering it. There were ways to buffer oneself against blood magic, even familial blood magic, but all the methods she'd found required something of one's own self.
She could cut and heal herself to gather the blood she needed. Hermione had considered the quick way then put it aside. Defacing Cathal's body even if she could heal the wounds afterwards didn't seem right. Plus depending on the wards on Nott Manor, she might either deliberately bind herself to them or set off an alarm. Magic was intention. Allowing Mother Nature to give her the resource she needed was passive enough not to invoke any binding.
Still a bit ick, though.
It took the full course of her period for Hermione to collect enough blood and tissue to attempt one of the protection charms. The spell was archaic; she'd translated it from medieval Latin and guessed it had originally been in Old Irish as some of the Ogham script had remained sketched in the margins. The spell was supposed to make a charm that would deflect or absorb a blood magic compulsion. The text was a bit vague on exactly how it did what it did, which was a chronic lapse in old magical theory.
She ended up with a fingernail sized red bead that looked more like carnelian than ruby. Something marbled and opaque, anyway. Not particularly impressive and she wouldn't know if it had worked until Siglinde Rosier tried to force her to do something. The peace of mind was valuable though. Hermione didn't want to sit on her arse like a fairytale princess waiting to be saved. She might not be able to resist but she could try to protect herself.
New Year's Eve was a half bottle of champagne split between the four of them and for Cathal a Muffliato toast later with her grandmother. They were left alone until the afternoon of the first when an influx of Death Eaters began arriving by Floo from Malfoy Manor. Only the ones without warrants, Hermione noticed. Yaxley came for the library but the others, mostly unmarried men in their twenties, were evidently to be garrisoned at Nott Manor.
From Theo's carefully bland face, Hermione guessed he had been told not asked. He made himself act the host, assigning rooms to his guests and informing them of the amenities of the house. He didn't say outright he expected them to conform to the traditional rules of hospitality but that was the impression he worked hard to give. His ancestral home was not a hotel or barracks.
They were heading back to Hogwarts on the fifth. Hermione reminded herself of that when a second man swaggered past her with a wicked grin. No one had raised a hand or wand against her. The house was full of arrogant sons of bitches who wanted to impress the high status pure-blood girl. It was uncomfortable not unendurable. What she was finding difficult to outlast was her own anger.
These wizards were second or in some cases third generation Death Eaters. Dyed in the wool. She couldn't see them without picturing them in SS uniform. She couldn't see them as people without wanting to grab them by their hair and smash their faces into the walls. Maybe some had no choice. Maybe some had picked the lesser of two evils. But Voldemort was a pretty fucking big evil so whatever was worse had to be Abaddon.
Hermione shut herself in the library. Yaxley was probably crueller that the younger recruits however he didn't smile or try to chat her up. He read and made notes. Theo joined her at the table by the window, to read and make notes. She read and made notes. They were so damned scholarly. It didn't make the days go any faster.
The Radnotts saw them to the Platform then headed back to their own home with a sense of relief. No less eased, Hermione found an empty carriage and shared a heartfelt sigh with Nott. He levitated their trunks onto the luggage rack with more force than necessary. She slammed the door shut. They couldn't allow themselves to air more of their suppressed feelings.
They didn't talk much during the journey north. Hermione did her Prefect duty. She'd made a rough count of the students on the way down. Her tally now was about a dozen short. They might have returned earlier. However, something she knew because she hadn't sent her parents to Australia blindly was that the school year there started in late January. The Ministry closed over the holiday season, giving a Ministry employee with a yen to get out of the country quietly more than a week before they were noticed missing.
Neither Bulstrode was on the train. Hermione wasn't sure whether she was relieved about that. She hadn't particularly noticed Millicent during Sixth Year. That could've been due to her absence or to teenage romance induced obliviousness. Had the timeline changed? Would Baldwin Bulstrode listen to his under-age daughter's advice?
In the moment, she hadn't considered the implications of her suggestion on temporal integrity. She'd run her mouth thinking that getting Millicent out of Slytherin before the Carrows took over could only be a kindness. Tracey too, if she could manage it. She didn't know as much about Davis's background or family situation other than the impression they weren't wealthy. There were other half-bloods in her House. How many had come back next year?
Hermione was still mentally planning when they arrived at Hogsmeade. She'd been preparing for years but there was still so much to do. She had to get into the Chamber of Secrets and get enough food into the school to support the students who hid in the Room of Requirement. Setting up another hiding place for the Slytherins would probably be a good idea too.
The Aurors searched their baggage again, with varying degrees of impartiality. An impressive amount of Weasley products were confiscated as well as several books restricted by the Ministry. Nothing overtly Dark though if someone was bringing something dangerous into the school it was unlikely they'd pack it in with their jumpers. Hermione had her contraband in her marsupium.
Tracey was there in the dorm gritting her teeth at Parkinson's smugness over Bulstrode's absence. Greengrass had less to say. None of their parents had been at the Malfoys' solstice rite and Hermione wondered if Daphne was aware her family hadn't been included. Did she have enough social nouse to be worried?
"Shouldn't you be drooling over Malfoy, Parkinson?" Hermione asked snidely once her patience started to fray with the witch's bon mots. She was actually quite witty in a poisonous way. Hopefully she'd never go into journalism or there would be a second incarnation of Rita Skeeter.
"He has detention with Babbling." Pansy groused. Draco was up to something he refused to tell her about. At the beginning of the year he'd hinted significantly but since then he'd been increasingly distracted and busy. She didn't appreciate being ignored. Even flirting with Blaise in front of her quasi-boyfriend hadn't got her the attention she wanted. "I told him to drop that dull class. Who casts in runes any more?"
Artisans. Warders. Potion Masters. Anyone wanting to bind magic to perishable goods. Hermione could have rattled off half a dozen applications that utilised runes not counting the research and linguistic aspects. She missed Professor Babbling's class. It was one she could maintain through self-study so Cathal hadn't taken it. Therefore she did not answer Parkinson's rhetorical question.
As the term progressed, Malfoy had more and more detentions for non-submission of work. Most Professors would allow a late scroll or two or rely on a Troll mark to get the errant student back on track. Granger was vocal about his non-attendance at Prefect meetings, quizzing Rosier on her Housemate's whereabouts. Hermione remembered Parkinson's sneers when she'd first asked the same questions. Arguing with herself gave her such a headache she volunteered to take Malfoy's patrols just to avoid the dispute.
Word got back to the Deputy Headmistress that Malfoy was shirking his duties. Hermione wasn't sure who'd tattled. It was possible McGonagall simply noticed a lack of pasty git in the halls of an evening. She went to Snape and Snape called the Slytherin Prefects in for a meeting. He spoke mostly to the wall, remarking on House unity and pride. Message delivered, he left them to sort it out amongst themselves.
The upshot of that was the Fifth and Seventh Years separately and alone broaching the issue with Cathal. Hestia Carrow, the more socially adept of the twins, was not intimidated by Malfoy's Death Eater connections. She was forthright about the reason why she wanted to be unobliging; she thought Draco was putting it on. Yaxley had been told to keep his distance from the blond wizard but didn't know why. Vaisey had Quidditch commitments as well as his own Prefect duties. He didn't have the time. Ichijoh alluded to but did not spell out her misgivings.
Manami's family had already been expelled from one country. She was leery of extremists and did not wish to be associated with anyone fanatic enough to have been recruited young. On seeing something in Cathal's expression, she amended to statement to 'or unfortunate enough to have attracted the attention of fanatics'. That'd covered her own experience so nicely Hermione couldn't bring herself to dissemble.
It took her four days to corner Malfoy somewhere away from his thuggish minions. As someone accustomed to sneaking out of the Slytherin Dungeons, she had a good selection of alert charms to let her know if someone was crossing the threshold. She didn't want to talk in the Common Room as it was too prone to eavesdropping, and Crabbe and Goyle stuck close to Malfoy almost everywhere he went.
He snuck out on the night of a snowstorm cold enough to tax Warming Charms and keep all sensible folk tucked up in bed. Hermione swore as her spell roused her. She debated rolling over, leaving him to his idiocy but she couldn't remember any official disciplinary action against Malfoy and if she didn't do something that's where he was heading.
Throwing on her robes over her pyjamas, she cast a muffling charm and padded out after the blond tosser. Her map showed her he wasn't heading to the Prefects' Bathroom, she wasn't going to corner him starkers, or to Moaning Myrtle's so she pursued. Hermione thought for a moment he was heading to the Room of Requirement but he diverted on the fifth floor and went instead to the Astronomy Tower.
To the Astronomy Tower in a damn blizzard. Hermione was seriously tempted to leave him to court hypothermia alone. Something prodded her onwards. He wasn't going up there to look at the stars. He wasn't doing all those stairs for his health. It had been a chance, hadn't it, that he had faced Dumbledore there in June. With so many particles in the air, any safety spells would be blurred, over-stretched enough they might not trigger. A clever boy like Malfoy would know that.
