Soooo ... Yeah ... When I said there would not be long delays between chapters, what I actually meant was that there would apparently, at times, be long delays between chapters :/ ... In my defense, I do most of my writing during downtimes at work, and in the last few weeks, that downtime has been at an absolute minimum. However, this chapter is finally finished and edited (to the best of my ability. I am a writer, definitely not an editor.) I am hoping this delayed chapter will be the exception and not the rule.
But I digress ... Moving on. Of note, the beginning of this chapter contains dialogue taken directly from the works of JK Rowlings Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. As with her characters and settings, I do not own, I merely borrowed. I hope you enjoy ...
- Chapter Five -
Secrets and Illusions
"And talking about Michael and Ginny …" Hermione whispered to Harry while Ron muttered all sorts of indignities regarding his sister's newest love interest as they walked along the streets of Hogsmeade, "… what about Cho and you?"
"What d'you mean?" Harry asked.
Hermione could see her comment had caught Harry off guard. She could almost see the fluster in his eyes as he tried to hide his emotions. For some reason, it brought a slight smile to Hermione's face.
"Well, she just couldn't keep her eyes off you, could she?" she pointed out.
Harry looked down the street with a serene expression upon his face. It was almost as though he had suddenly learned to appreciate the world for the very first time.
Hermione might have taken a moment to enjoy Harry's suppressed merriment if not for a rather quiet confrontation taking place in the back alley between Gladrags and Zonkos. Neither Ron nor Harry paid it any attention, passing by without even a flinch. Of course, the two were quite lost in their own very different worlds for very different reasons at the moment. The calm aggression taking place a short distance away would not be enough to shake their concentration, or lack thereof.
"You two go on," Hermione said to Harry and Ron. "I just remembered I wanted to have a look at the Spice Bazar before we leave."
"Um, yeah … Ok," Harry bumbled, giving a half-hearted wave as he continued to walk along with a silly, yet distant, grin upon his face.
"You don't think I harp on things, do you?" Ron grunted to Harry, clearly still cross with his discovery that Ginny had hidden her relationship with Michael Corner from him.
"Sure, Ron," Harry answered in the nonchalant tone often used by one who has paid little attention to the question at hand.
"What do you mean, sure?" Ron asked, jabbing Harry in the arm.
"What? … I mean, no," Harry answered, snapping out of his giddy trance for a moment. "Of course not. You're just … I don't know … You get very big brotherly sometimes, is all."
"And what's wrong with that?" Ron asked on.
"Nothing," Harry assured as they continued down the street, oblivious to the fact that Hermione had slipped away. "It's brilliant. I would be the same way if I … you know … had any reason to be."
As the two disappeared into the crowd of students and townspeople, Hermione quietly approached the oddly serene altercation. Killian had not attended the gathering at the Hog's Head. Hermione held out little hope that he would. Too organized, too formal. But clearly he had gone to Hogsmeade as he was now surrounded by several first and second year Hufflepuffs who were looking on attentively as he twirled his wand and paced before Zacharias Smith. Zacharias, himself, wore an odd expression as he stood with his back against the side wall of Gladrags, eyeing Killian with his mouth agape. Not quite fearful. Not quite comfortable. Riddled with uncertainly.
This was quite a different setting than the standoff in the courtyard at the beginning of the term. There was an energy in the air, a tensity. But the cold malice, the frightening calm was absent. In its place was a cordial, almost inviting demeanor.
Deciding she did not wish to be seen just yet, Hermione stood in an alcove between the buildings just out of Killian's line of sight.
"Now," Killian went on, addressing the young students standing about. "What have we learned today about secrets?"
"Keep them," a young girl spoke up.
"Because …" Killian led.
"A secret is an offering of trust," another Hufflepuff chimed in.
"Correct," Killian said with a flick of his wand. "Vitally important. And what happens when one violates this trust?"
"Bad things," a third student answered.
"Yes," Killian agreed. "Because a violation of trust is an invitation for retaliation, am I right?"
The surrounding gaggle of students nodded in agreement, far more comfortable with what they were witnessing than Zacharias, who remained in pressed against the wall, his eyes following Killian's every move.
"For example, what just happened here is a …" Killian began, pausing for a response.
"Secret," several of the Hufflepuffs answered in relative unison.
"Exactly," Killian concurred, now pacing back and forth and glancing among the students. "And what will happen if we reveal this secret, thus betraying the trust we have only just established?"
"Bad things," came another unison response, this time more in sync than the previous answer.
"Very bad things," Killian punctuated. He then spun towards Zacharias, drawing his wand upon the retreating Hufflepuff and leaning in. "You would never betray anyone's trust, would you, Zacharias?" he whispered.
'No … I wasn't …" Zacharias answered, bumbling over his words, "… I wouldn't …"
Killian snapped his wand away and stood upright in one swift and deliberate motion, his arrogant grin firmly in place.
"Of course not," he said with a wink. "Class dismissed," he went on with a moderate bow to the other students standing around, still watching in silence. "I believe you have all earned a reward. Take them to Honeydukes." Killian tossed a small pouch of coins to Zacharias, who caught it clumsily.
How many Ghalleons the pouch contained, Hermione could not be certain. It certainly seemed heavy with coin. Zacharias stood dumbfounded for a moment, staring between Killian and the pouch of money of which he just been given possession. Slowly he began to make his way around Killian. As he did, however, the sudden student turned professor grabbed him firmly by the arm, pulling the rattled Hufflepuff close.
"Do we have an understanding?" he whispered.
"Y-Yes …" Zacharias bumbled, eager to be as far away from that alleyway as was physically possible.
"Good," Killian said with a suddenly cheerful, yet dismissive tone. "Off you go then. I believe your housemates are waiting on you."
With that, Zacharias took off out of the alleyway and down the road towards Honeydukes with several excited housemates eager to engage in the famous candy shop's sugary indulgences.
When the area had cleared, Hermione stepped out from the alcove and into the alley. Killian turned to her immediately, adjusting his sleeved and straightening his gloves.
"Where did you come from?" he asked, twirling his wand before placing it in his coat pocket.
"Don't patronize," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. "I know you saw me."
"True," Killian admitted with a grin. "Your stealth leaves a bit to be desired."
Hermione crinkled her nose at the observation. Partly because she knew this was not entirely true. She, Harry, and Ron had been more than efficient in the areas of stealth a number of times during their years at Hogwarts. However, it was also partly because she knew her attempt at remaining concealed in this occasion was less than stellar. Perhaps it was because she was more interested in what was transpiring than placing herself out of view. Or perhaps it was the area itself. It certainly did not lend itself to shadows at that particular time of the day, the overhead sun illuminating the area quite thoroughly. Or perhaps still, some unconscious aspect in Hermione's person wished to be caught, wished to be seen watching Killian from afar. Although it would sound silly if spoken aloud, the latter of these explanations did not feel particularly fanciful.
"What was that all about?" Hermione asked.
"Just a conversation among fellow students."
Hermione was doubtful as the simplicity of Killian explanation. "Just a conversation?" she asked on.
"Just a conversation," he assured once again.
"And you wand was drawn because …"
"Merely for theatre."
Narrowing her eyes and pursing her lip for a bit of theatre of her own, Hermione pondered whether this was one of those moments to pursue further or accept Killian's attempts to be difficult. Knowing time was of the essence, she chose the latter.
"Yes …" she finally said as she and Killian began down the alley, cautious to avoid the eyes of any students walking the busy streets of Hogsmeade only a stone's throw away, "… I saw you'd gathered an audience."
"The conversation transcended into a teaching opportunity," Killian explained. "I could not let such a fortuity pass. I would think you would appreciate such a thing."
"So you're teaching the art of secrecy?" Hermione asked.
"More the art of keeping secrets," Killian corrected.
"And, pray tell, what secrets were in question?"
"You tell me," Killian asked in return. "It was your furtive meeting at the Hog's Head, was it not?"
Hermione's heart stopped, her blood freezing in her veins as she grabbed Killian by the arm and spun him towards her.
"Zacharias was talking about the Hog's Head?" she asked while a sickening feeling of dread arose in the pit of her stomach. "What did he say? Who was he talking to? What—"
Killian placed a finger to Hermione's lips, silencing her midsentence.
"What he said," he began as Hermione slapped his finger away, "was that some tosser has a misguided idea he can teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Went on about not putting his neck on the line, going straight to Professor Umbridge, etcetera ad nauseum."
"He said he was going to Professor Umbridge?" Hermione gasped, exasperated at the thought. Their plan to form a united rebellion could very well fall apart before it had even started. How foolish had she been to allow so many students the knowledge of what they were planning? Why had she been so careless?
"Calm yourself," Killian said with that arrogant grin he wore so often. "The key point in that phrase is that Zacharias was to do these things. You're little secret is safe."
Again that word … Little … But Hermione had more pressing concerns than a playful taunt at the moment. Gathering herself enough to put together a cohesive thought, she pressed on.
"What do you mean he was to these things?"
"I'm not certain there is better way to elucidate the context."
Hermione was not in the mood to play games. Not in in this instance, at any rate. And certainly not with this subject. Her life as an expelled former student of Hogwarts was flashing before her eyes.
"Can you please be serious for a moment?" she snapped, slapping Killian on the arm.
"It's quite simple," Killian explained, raising a hand in defense and laughing. "I overheard Zacharias speaking to some of his fellow Hufflepuffs as he walked along. It appeared he had lost his proverbial backbone and was pondering whether or not to go to Professor Umbridge with tales of some secret underground organization of students intent on learning the, now forbidden, practice of the Defense Against the Dark arts versus simply studying various rudimentary texts, as you say. I decided it best we should take a walk where we had a brief, albeit very illuminating, conversation. As you observed, he then changed his mind on the subject."
"Just like that?" Hermione asked, doubtful as to the validity of Killian's assertion.
"Just like that," Killian confirmed confidently.
Hermione recalled Zacharias' demeanor during their clandestine meeting at the Hog's Head only a few minutes prior. He was clearly not convinced with Harry's ability to teach fellow students, nor comfortable with being a part of an organization that was operating without the approval of the Hogwarts. Particularly one that would almost certainly be opposed by Professor Umbridge as well as the Ministry of Magic itself. Yet, even while witnessing Killian's 'lesson' in the alley, Hermione never dreamed the context of said lesson referred to what occurred at the Hog's Head. Regardless of his apprehensions, she would not have believed Zacharias would so readily forsake Harry and rest of those who attended.
"I'm to believe that one minute Zacharias is willing to go to Professor Umbridge," Hermione reasoned with severe doubt, "and the next he is suddenly loyal?"
"I hardly said he was loyal," Killian corrected. "If Hogwarts were ever under siege, I could all but guarantee Zacharias would be the first to flee the castle. But he will not loosen his tongue of your secrets. Allegiances are not that simple. There are a vast number of degrees amidst loyalty and betrayal.''
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I hope you're right," she said.
"As do I," Killian teased. "Expulsion, I imagine, would be an uncomfortable experience."
Taking a moment to breathe, Hermione felt her heart rate decrease. Everything in her being screamed at her to be troubled, to fear a turn by Zacharias, to anxiously watch over her shoulder for the immediate future in the very least. However, the look of calm confidence in Killian's expression put her at ease. There was no stress or strain in his presentation. No doubt. Hermione drew from that. If Killian had no concerns, then there was nothing of concern to be had. Why she had such faith in this, she could not fathom. But she did, and that was enough. At least for now.
Now feeling more at ease, Hermione continued to walk along the alleyway. Killian, however, remained in place. Hermione looked back and, upon seeing the look of apprehension on Killian's face, a sense of concern arose once again.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
Killian glanced over Hermione's shoulder. She followed his line of sight and saw the bustle of students and passersbys flowing up and down Hogsmeade's High Street.
"It appears we have run out of road …" Killian's grin had lost its air, his eyes regretful. "A few more steps and a permanence of chaos awaits us."
A permanence of chaos. Who speaks in this manner? Both annoying pretentious and indescribably compelling. It was a mask Killian wore. Hermione was certain of this. It has to be. And while he wore it well, Hermione had begun to see the person behind the façade.
Strolling back towards Killian with her hands behind her back, Hermione kicked at stones as she stared at the ground in frustrated contemplation.
"I didn't think I was even going to see you in Hogsmeade today," she admitted. "And now it's just in passing. Almost makes it worse."
Killian reached out a gently straightened Hermione's knit cap. "Not entirely worse."
Hermione looked back to where the alley reached the street with fanciful hope. "There are a lot of people about," she offered. "Everyone is bustling about. Maybe no one would notice."
"And maybe I'll take up knitting," Killian said with a chuckle.
"You could," Hermione said with a smile and laugh of her own.
Killian appeared oddly uncomfortable given Hermione's presence. Perhaps he was as hesitant to leave as she was. Hermione wanted to believe that to be true. But it was also possible that his primary concern was to not be seen. It was a world of trouble that neither of them wanted or needed at the moment. Or any other moment for that matter.
"I best be off then," he finally said before turning and walking towards the opposite end of the alley, far from throngs of Hogsmeade's patrons.
"Wait!" Hermione called after him. Killian turned back with a quick wisp of expectation as Hermione hurried to him, once more looking into his eyes with repressed hope, biting her lip and shifting from one foot to the other. "There must be someplace we can go."
Killian looked to the sky in feigned contemplation, again, adjusting Hermione's cap. Even through his gloves, she could almost feel his warmth as her hand brushed by the side of her face. Not necessarily a physical warmth. It was much more encompassing than that. Indescribable, yet welcomed.
"I noticed a new business has opened near the outskirts of Hogsmeade … The Attics of Plutus, if I recall correctly," Killian pondered aloud. "A Muggle shop of some sort. Was quiet as a graveyard when I passed a bit earlier. Feel like educating an ignorant Slytherin on your culture? I've always found it fascinatingly odd?"
"I fairly sure Muggles would say the same of your culture," Hermione surmised.
"Our culture, don't you mean?" Killian corrected. "Muggle born, blossoms into greatness within the society of witchcraft and wizardry … You're developing quite the compelling biography."
Hermione was certain Killian was merely patronizing her once again. Not in any malicious way. As always, merely to tease. On the other hand, he had made similar comments before. Of course, he could have been teasing her then as well. This time, she decided to simply take it as the compliment it appeared to be and looked no further. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Hermione stood up on her toes, shrugged, and then looked to the ground to hide her smile. After which, the two of them walked together towards the new Muggle shop aside Madam Puddifoot's, careful to avoid any gazing eyes on their way.
. . .
Once inside, Hermione and Killian were greeted by Jarvis Rastrick, a kindly old man and owner of The Attics of Plutus. Immediately upon their entry, he enthusiastically began telling an array of stories ranging from his obsession with everything Muggle to his family lineage that he claimed could be traced back to Xavier Rastrick, the famous, yet flamboyant, wizard entertainer who vanished unexpectedly while tap dancing before a crowd of hundreds of onlookers in and around 1836 in Painswick, never to be seen or heard from again.
While Hermione was genuinely enthralled with the man's rhapsodic tales, tales that were, no doubt, filled with exaggerations and family lore, Killian appeared less interested in the conversation. Instead, he found it more amusing that an individual who claimed ancestry to a line of performers would now find himself the proprietor of such and out of place establishment as Muggle shop in Hogsmeade.
When Mr. Rastrick's tales reached their terminus, including a history lesson in how the shop's name derived from the ancient Greek god of wealth paired with an old Muggle adage that one man's trash is another man's treasure, with said treasures often being stored in dusty cluttered attics, he excused himself and returned to organizing the various shelves and cases about his establishment. And although Hermione found value in near every piece on display, Killian's thoughts leaned more towards the rubbish aspect of Mr. Rastrick's apothegm.
"Are you not going to remove your gloves?" Hermione asked Killian as she glanced at a few Modern Muggle Wonders, or so the display card read.
"Seems rather pointless," Killian answered. "We will be back in the cold soon enough …" he ran his fingers along the counter and inspected the tips "…and I'm not certain as to how sanitary this environment is," he whispered with a grin.
Hermione shook her head and continued to walk along with Killian at her side, occasionally pointing out something of interest or answering an odd question or two.
"So I am to understand," Killian began, tossing a cracked and well-worn golf ball from hand to hand, "that the object of the game is to take this tiny little ball, hit it with a club as far as you can, chase it down, locate it in the grass, only to repeat the process again?"
"There's a bit more to it than that," Hermione explained. "But yes, that's the general idea."
"And that is considered a sport?" Killian asked on.
"Some will tell you," Hermione answered. "Personally, I find the whole idea of it silly. But my father is an avid player. It's sort of a common distraction for people in his field."
"Right," Killian said, placing the ball back into the display case. "Dentistry, wasn't it? And what is this?" he went on, joining Hermione's side as she looked upon a cylinder with vertical slits up the sides and a crank along the base.
Hermione grasped the object and held it up for Killian to see.
"It's a zoetrope," she explained. "Look …"
Killian looked through the vertical slits as Hermione slowly turned the crank. The cylinder began to spin and through the openings they were able to see a goat jumping toward a tree and eating its leaves.
"Interesting illusion," Killian remarked.
"Illusions are what we call magic where I come from," Hermione explained.
"How fortunate you now reside in a world where magic is what we call magic," Killian teased.
"I don't know," Hermione argued. "Sometimes I miss some of the wonderment in seeing things that should not be possible. You know he isn't really pulling a rabbit out a hat, the woman behind the curtain isn't really disappearing, but you want to believe they are."
"And now you know it can be real," Killian pointed out, pulling a flower from the air and presenting it to Hermione. "It no longer has to be an illusion."
A warmth arose in Hermione's cheeks as she took the flower and put it to her nose, taking in its emanating fragrance. Just then, the door opened and several students poured into the shop, being greeted by Mr. Rastrick and regaled with the same stories he had shared with Hermione and Killian as they entered The Attics of Plutus.
Killian took Hermione by the hand and the two ducked behind a row of Muggle books and board games. Making their way to the rear of the store, they quietly escaped through a back door as Mr. Rastrick recited the Muggle adage of trash and treasure to his new prospective consumers.
Once outside, and again safely hidden from the prying eyes of fellow classmates, Hermione leaned up against the alley-side wall of a former storefront that now lay boarded up and abandoned. As they stood there, enjoying the cool breeze and waiting for the inevitable moment when they would go their separate ways so as not to be seen retuning to Hogwarts in each other's company, Hermione was hit with a sudden bout of melancholy. Killian leaned aside her as she looked up at him with a hint of uncertainty etched in her expression.
"Can I ask you something?"
"I'm sure you can ask me a great many things," Killian teased.
Hermione leaned her head on Killian's shoulder. The teasing that normally filled her with a sense of aggravated passion or comforting warmth, had more of despairing effect at the moment.
"Is this just an illusion?" she asked.
Killian paused. It looked as if he was uncertain as to whether to offer some form of sarcasm and whit or to join Hermione in her moment of despondence. She felt so comfortable, so at peace when she was with him. But at the same time their relationship was so different than any she had in the past or present. With anyone else, she knew where she stood. Harry, Ron, any number of random acquaintances, even those with whom she did not fare so well … The relationship was known and well defined. With Killian … She did not have that same sense of affirmation. She knew neither what they were nor what she even wanted. They just existed. Nothing more, nothing less. And neither seemed willing to look beyond that.
Perhaps it was because she knew that at any moment, any slip in their secrecy, whatever they had or did not have would vanish like smoke in the breeze. Or perhaps, as she had thought numerous times before, it was because she feared that if she accepted any part of it, that action, in and of itself, would set in motion the very destruction she wished to avoid.
While not one to ever believe she knew beyond doubt the mindset that anyone carried with them, Hermione believed that Killian had the same fears and reservations. He hid it well. Far better than Hermione. Still, she could see he had the same antipathy for their reticence, but understood their reservations behind any acknowledgement of their being. It was not fair, but it was what they had. Or what Hermione wanted to believe they had.
The passing seconds felt like hours as Hermione waited for any reaction from Killian. Closing her eyes as she rested her head on his shoulder, she almost hoped her would not answer at all. A question left unanswered was better than an undesired answer given, was it not?
"I don't know about any rabbits in a hat," Killian finally said, now resting his head upon hers and interlacing their fingers as best he could through their gloves, "but you are far more than any vanishing woman behind a curtain."
Hermione slid closer to Killian, wishing to feel the pressure of his body against hers. Beyond his arrogance and satire, he had found the perfect answer. It was exactly what Hermione wanted to hear, what she needed to hear. Soon all of the students would be heading back to Hogwarts to return to their daily routines of study and recess. Soon Hermione would be sitting by the fire in the Gryffindor common room with Harry and Ron as they continue their plans to undermine Professor Umbridge's attempts to fetter their education in the Defense Against the Dark Arts. Soon she and Killian would be spending their days and nights passing letters and stealing glances across the halls. But soon had not yet arrived. Soon could wait. All that mattered was now.
