-DECISIONS-
Hermione stared at her copy of her father's will.
Actually speaking, it wasn't her copy.
Technically, the copy was at the lawyer's office.
But the lawyer didn't know that.
Hermione bit her lip. She knew what she had done was wrong, but she really had no other choice. For a brief moment, the knowledge of being arrested for using magic in the presence of Muggles had evaded her – all she wanted was to look at her father's will. A simple Duplicating Spell (when no one had been looking) had seen to that.
She just could not believe the terms of the will. Her father would never put her up to this kind of torture.
Of course, he had no idea she considered living with the Carmells torture, because she had never voiced her dislike of her step-family to him, because he had just seemed so happy. Hermione shook her head. Either way, it didn't make sense! Her father would never tie her to a marriage! He would never ask her to give up her career!
He believed too much in independence, passion for work, and liberty. Why would he make her do this?
The will must have been tampered with.
Hermione held the tip of her wand over the crisp paper. 'Specialis revelio,' she whispered, flicking her wand. Was it her imagination, or did her father's signature just glimmer? Hermione blinked. Her lethargy completely forgotten, she sat up straighter. Determined, she pointed her wand at the paper, narrowing her eyes. 'Specialis revelio,' she repeated.
His signature glimmered once again.
Hermione read over the will once again, looking for any other clues. So the signature was a bit suspicious – anything else?
The only other problem she could find was that the paper looked too new. She held it up in the light. She frowned. It wasn't even frayed at the edges! It wasn't getting yellow, it wasn't getting too flimsy, and the writing wasn't starting to fade. To her knowledge, the last time her father had edited his will was in 1993.
Her eyes roamed over the sheet, coming to rest on the witnesses' signatures. The one was definitely Isabelle's. No other idiot managed to put hearts into every vowel of their signature. Hermione followed the dotted line to...
'March 10 1999?' she murmured, her eyebrows pulling together. Which meant that this will was drawn up only six months ago...
So engrossed was she in the will, that she didn't hear the footsteps coming down the passage. She was about to cast another spell on the will, when to her unfortunate surprise, the paper zoomed out of her hands so quickly it left behind a paper cut.
The pain completely forgotten, she looked up, her heart sinking when she saw who was at her door.
'Thought you'd be smart, didn't you?' Isabelle said, smirking. She held the will up in her hand, leaning against Hermione's doorframe.
Hermione pushed her self-anger deep down – she'd deal with herself later. 'It's my right,' she said, sticking her chin out. She waved her wand, mutely casting a Summoning Spell, but was stopped by Isabelle's counter-spell.
Isabelle offered a fake smile. 'You forget that I'm a professional dueller, Hermione,' she said softly, now focusing on the will in her hand. Using her wand, she began to cast numerous spells on it, now doubt putting up Anti-Hermione wards. Her smile tightened. 'Stop trying to take it, Hermione,' she said thinly, feeling the pull on the paper. Hermione glared, refusing to give up. She gripped her wand tighter, trying again.
Isabelle sighed, looking mildly annoyed. With a slight flick of her own wand, she muttered, 'Expelliarmus.' Hermione's wand soared out of her hand, much to Hermione's fury.
'Give it back!' Hermione yelled, stalking towards Isabelle angrily.
Isabelle smiled again, looking down at her. 'I'm afraid –' she said, flicking her wand again so that Hermione's wand and the will disappeared with a pop. Hermione gasped. '-that I don't know where it is,' Isabelle finished, shrugging.
'You—!' Hermione stopped, not finding the right words to best describe her step-mother. She clenched her fists, knowing that the hatred she felt for this woman was rolling off her in waves. It was a wonder Isabelle was still standing.
'I have a right to my own wand, Isabelle!' she shouted, not trying to stay calm.
Isabelle pretended to think. 'I don't think so,' she said after a while, a huge smile plastered onto her face, crossing her arms.
Hermione felt her nostrils flare and her ears go red. 'I have people in high places, Isabelle,' she warned, dropping her tone. 'I work for the Ministry. Stealing wands is illegal.'
'Hmm,' Isabelle said, stroking her imaginary beard in mocking thought, 'and there I was thinking that stealing wills is also illegal.' She levelled a stern gaze at Hermione whose eyebrows had shot up. 'The Ministry wouldn't care for that, don't you think?' Isabelle asked, faking ignorance.
As horror gripped her, Hermione felt as if a rock had just been dropped into her stomach.
'Now, are you still going to tell them about your wand, Hermione?' Isabelle asked, fingering her own wand.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. 'You're blackmailing me,' she stated, clenching her jaw.
Isabelle leaned towards her, so close that they were just a few millimetres apart. Hermione inwardly flinched at this close proximity, but refused to back down. She jutted her chin out, meeting her step-mother's stare. 'Don't test me, Hermione,' she whispered.
'Don't test me, Isabelle,' Hermione whispered menacingly.
At this, Isabelle withdrew, throwing her head back and laughing. She pointed at Hermione. 'You? I should be afraid of you?' she asked, cackling again.
Hermione merely crossed her arms wordlessly, thinking that the answer was obvious.
Isabelle reached out to stroke Hermione's cheek. Hermione jerked her head, glaring, as she shook her finger off her face. Isabelle ignored this. 'My sweet angel, I'm the best dueller in the world. Have you seen my trophy room?' she asked, smirking.
Hermione regarded her coolly. Given any day, she could beat this woman hands down. She was sure of it.
'The room that your lovely father,' Isabelle continued, pausing for effect, relishing in the pain that crossed her step-daughter's face, 'put up for me?'
Hermione continued to glare at the woman. She was bloody incensed that her wand had been taken away and the will had been discovered. One day...
'I could beat you any day, given the chance,' Hermione said confidently.
Isabelle smirked. 'Is that so,' she murmured, amusement dancing in her depthless eyes.
Hermione pursed her lips. 'Of course.'
Isabelle straightened against the doorframe. 'Well, you'll never know, will you?'
'Why don't you give me my wand back,' Hermione said, 'and I'll show you.'
Isabelle hesitated, her lips twitching. Hermione was quick enough to identify the emption that briefly flashed in her eyes, before dissolving back into coldness. She's scared of me, Hermione thought in wonder, her lips parting.
Isabelle narrowed her eyes. 'Your wand will only be given to you when I choose to give it to you,' she said, not acknowledging Hermione's challenge.
'What!' Hermione exclaimed, her voice shaking in outrage. 'That is—' Isabelle waved her wand, silencing Hermione.
Hermione stared daggers at her. If looks could kill...
Isabelle saw this, and as an afterthought, flicked her wand again. Hermione felt her body freeze.
Oh how she hated this woman.
'I fired Beatrice, our domestic worker,' Isabelle said, examining her fingernails. 'I don't really want an elf...and according to dear George's will—' Hermione flinched internally, '—you're supposed to help me around the house.'
Oh no, Hermione thought, knowing where this was going.
'No magic, Hermione,' Isabelle said, now looking up. 'I'll have a list ready for you every morning. Make sure it's done, or else...' she trailed off softly.
If Hermione hadn't seen this coming, she would have been a lot angrier.
That didn't mean she wasn't angry now.
When she releases you from the spells, Hermione silently spoke to herself, do not kill her. The last thing you need right now is a murder on your hands.
Isabelle looked around her room. 'And pack your things,' she ordered, walking out and down the passage. She waved her wand over her shoulder, releasing Hermione from both spells.
Hermione ran after her. 'Pack what?' she snapped, snidely wondering if the three of them were going on a lovely little family vacation.
Isabelle carried on walking, making her way down the stairs. Hermione stayed on her landing. 'You're moving into the outhouse,' she said airily.
Hermione froze. 'You can't force me to do that,' she said, swallowing.
'I'm your guardian, Hermione,' Isabelle said. Hermione could no longer see her, but her voice carried from the lounge. 'I can make you do whatever I want. And don't worry, dear! I've done up the room very nicely for you. There's pink everywhere.'
Hermione closed her eyes. What mess had she landed in? She slowly made her way to her room, plans moving at an opposite pace in her head.
She dug out boxes from under her bed and from her closets, shoving all her belongings into them. She couldn't go to the Ministry because Isabelle had a stolen will against her. She couldn't find solace in her work, because ... well, hello! She wasn't allowed to work. Hermione paused. But she was allowed to keep her friends!
Hermione bit her lip. Why couldn't she have gotten an owl like Harry and Ron? She paced her room, wondering how on earth she could contact them without Isabelle finding out. She needed her wand to Apparate, and Isabelle probably had put up wards around the house to prevent Hermione from leaving. Wanting to test it anyway, Hermione took one of her magazines, flinging it out of the window. Theoretically, seeing that the magazine belonged to her, it too shouldn't be able to go beyond the wards – if there were any.
Hermione watched it go, and then watched it ricocheting off an invisible wall. Hermione sighed. It was worth a try.
She would have to wait until Friday then.
She would be turning twenty. Her step-monster should allow her to go out on her birthday. The woman was cruel – but not that cruel.
-X-
'No.'
Hermione glared at the newspaper that was preventing her from seeing Isabelle's face. 'It's my birthday, Isabelle,' Hermione said slowly, not allowing her disbelief to come through.
'Happy birthday, then,' giggled Sabine from her tall chair at the head of the long dining table. She had a huge stack of magazines on the table before her, hiding half her body from view. She was currently flipping through one with the face of Harry on the front. Hermione rolled her eyes.
'Well, that's too bad,' Isabelle said, turning a page of The Prophet over.
Hermione counted to five, and breathed in deeply. 'I am an adult, Isabelle. Perhaps you don't realise that.'
Isabelle took a sip of her wine. Hermione glanced at the clock – eight. In the morning.
Isabelle lowered the newspaper. 'And I am your guardian, Hermione. Perhaps you don't realise that.'
'You won't let me write them, you won't let me visit them, you won't even let them come here,' she said, starting to get worked up. 'My birthday only comes once a year.'
'Good thing you're not born on February 29,' Astina sighed, walking into the dining room and seating herself daintily at the table. Hermione choked back a laugh when she saw what Astina was wearing – a ball gown accessorised with long white gloves.
'What the bloody hell are you wearing?' Sabine asked, sounding horrified.
Astina sniffed, waving her wand and conjuring a glass of champagne. She sipped at it, wiping her red lipstick mark off the lip when she was done. 'I've already read that magazine, Sab. And it says that Harry Potter prefers girls with class.'
Hermione didn't want to burst the girl's bubble by saying that Harry really cared for genuine people – whether they had class or not. Something the sisters were not capable of.
'Oh, well, that's a relief,' Sabine said, nodding. 'So you're aiming to chase him away with your evident lack of class so that he comes to me. How very sisterly of you, Tina.'
Hermione winced, even before the screeching came.
'HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT?' Astina lunged across the table, about to tackle her sister to the floor, when Isabelle waved her wand, forcing Astina back into her chair. Astina struggled, but stopped when she knew that she couldn't do anything whilst under her mother's wand. She crossed her arms angrily, shooting daggers at Sabine who still sat calmly flipping through her Potty Over Potter magazine.
Belatedly, Hermione turned her attention back towards Isabelle, who was looking at her daughters thoughtfully, her wand still holding Astina in place.
'Fine,' she said, looking back at Hermione.
Hermione's heart sped up, but she knew not to get too hopeful. She narrowed her eyes, waiting for the but to come.
'I'll let you go—'
'What?' Astine yelled. 'Mother, do you not realise what she is capable of!' she continued, her shock making her voice go hoarse. 'She could...she could...go buy a wand, or something! Or ... run away!'
'Quit your dramatics, Tina,' Sabine said in a bored voice. 'Mother would've already seen to that.'
'Exactly, Sabine,' Isabelle said pleasantly.
Hermione expected no less.
Really, she just wanted to see her friends.
'I will let you go...if –' Hermione stole herself, waiting for it, '-if your dear friend takes my girls out.'
Hermione licked her lips. 'Which friend?' she asked hesitantly, just to make sure.
'Why, Harry of course,' Isabelle said, beaming.
'Like on a...date?' Hermione asked, already dreading the answer.
'Of course.'
Two identical squeals erupted from the twins' mouths. 'Mother!' Sabine said, throwing her magazine up into the air, and rushing to give her mother a hug. 'I love you!'
'As do I, Mother! As do I!' Astina exclaimed, giving her mother a hug. The two of them skipped out of the room, in two opposite directions, no doubt to work on their charm and appearances.
Hermione was still recovering from her surprise. She knew Harry would mind.
'Can I borrow your owl so that I can check with him first?' she asked.
Isabelle smiled 'Of course, darling. And while you're at it, please inform all your friends of what a cruel bitch I am, and ask them all to send you any extra wands of theirs, or any potions that you could use to poison my family. Sure,' Isabelle said, still smiling.
Hermione bit her lip. Well, it was worth a try.
'You will decide now, Hermione,' she ordered softly, returning her attention to the newspaper.
'With all due respect, Isabelle,' Hermione began in a tone that blatantly mocked respect, 'how do you know I won't try doing these things tomorrow when I go out with my friends?'
'You underestimate my influence, Hermione,' Isabelle said, closing her newspaper and putting it down. She took another sip at her red wine. 'I will organise spies, Hermione. It could be anyone, really.'
Hermione's escape routes all looked positively implausible now.
'And if they report any sightings of any...illicit dealings of yours – according to my definition, of course – then you shall pay for the consequences.'
Hermione kept her face blank, not allowing Isabelle to see how much this affected her.
'Not only will you not ever get your wand back,' Isabelle continued in a smooth voice, 'but I will completely prevent a marriage between you and any other poor man from happening. And you will be stuck here...'
Forever, Hermione finished the sentence silently.
Hermione gave a stiff nod, and turned to go back to washing the dishes.
'Oh, and Hermione?' Isabelle said, making Hermione turn around.
'Yes?' she asked, eyeing Isabelle warily.
Isabelle took her glass of half-filled wine, and turned it upside down, so that its contents spilled out onto the white Persian carpet.
Hermione gritted her teeth.
'Clean that up,' Isabelle said, getting up and with a sweep of her long cloak, she had left.
-X-
'She has spies?' Ron repeated incredulously.
Hermione dipped her spoon back into her plastic cup. 'Yip.'
'She could be lying,' Harry pointed out, taking another spoon of his ice-cream.
Hermione nodded. 'I thought about that, but I rather not risk it.'
Harry sighed, playing around with his dessert.
'Hermione...' Ron said slowly, staring off into space.
Hermione looked up at him, observing the thoughtful expression that graced his features.
'I think I thought of something,' Ron said.
'Not again, Ron,' Harry sighed.
'No, really!' Ron said seriously.
'Let's hear it then,' Hermione said, leaning on her hand to look at him.
'Run away with us,' Ron said in a hushed tone, looking around them.
'If only it were that easy,' Hermione said, sounding dejected.
'She's got the stolen will against her,' Harry said.
Ron groaned.
Hermione nodded. 'And Isabelle can use that against me to keep me at home. It'll give her bait to make the Ministry keep an eye on me.'
Ron shook his head. 'This is bloody insane!' he said. As is the case with a frustrated Ron, he began muttering under his breath.
Hermione looked away from them, her attention on a family walking down Diagon Alley. The little girl held her parents' hands tightly, running and then jumping in the air, letting her parents swing her. Run, run, run, jump. Run, run, run, jump. Run, run, run –
'Marry me, Hermione,' Ron interrupted, jerking her quickly out of her distraction.
Harry choked. How it was possible to choke on ice-cream, only Harry knew. But choke on it he did.
Hermione glared at Ron. 'Ron, you're going out with Pansy Parkinson,' she stated.
Ron waved his hand impatiently. 'She won't mind,' he said in an offhand manner.
Hermione arched an eyebrow. 'Your girlfriend of two years won't mind you marrying one of your best friends?'
Ron looked at Harry. 'Well,' Ron said slowly. 'If it was Harry, she'd mind like hell.'
'Your other best friend, Ron,' Hermione said, tapping her spoon against the side of her cup.
Ron shrugged. 'I'll explain everything to her. Don't worry.'
Hermione shook her head. 'Not that I don't trust her, but the fewer people who know, the better.'
Harry tilted his head. 'How, exactly, is that not not trusting Pansy?' he asked, deliberately trying to be cheeky.
Hermione rolled her eyes. 'You know what I mean, Harry.'
'If money's a problem, Hermione—' Harry started saying.
Hermione held up a hand. 'Oh, no you don't Harry Potter,' she scolded. 'I will not start accepting charity in the form of money or...' she trailed off looking at Ron, '...marriage.'
Ron grinned. 'It won't kill you, Hermione,' he said good-naturedly, and Harry nodded in agreement. Yet, both of them knew that nothing they said would influence her decision.
'True,' she said. She strummed her fingers against the table. 'But I won't accept either of your propositions.'
'Then? Do you want to die of elfish torture there?' Ron asked bluntly.
'I'm not being treated like an elf,' Hermione said, frowning.
Ron looked at her.
'I have clothes!' she insisted.
'Clothes, Hermione. What about...' Ron trailed off, looking at Harry to complete his sentence.
Harry nodded, and then said, 'Dignity?'
'Integrity,' Ron added, nodding.
'Self-respect,' Harry supplied.
Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Now you boys are just being dramatic.'
'It would only be dramatic if it were false,' Harry philosophically pointed out.
'I have dignity!' Hermione said, averting her gaze.
'Uh huh,' Ron said, humouring her.
Harry said, 'Yeah, of course you do.'
Hermione's face took on a stern expression. 'It's my birthday! You're supposed to be on my side, here!'
Harry smiled. 'We are, which is why we're trying to help you.'
'Hmm,' Hermione hmm'ed. She looked at them thoughtfully. 'I think I know what I'm going to do.'
She looked at their expectant faces.
'I'm going to beat Isabelle Carmell at her own game.'
-to be continued-
A/N: A beeeeeeeeeeeg thank you to those who reviewed my last chappie : ) I don't want to rush into the storyline yet – y'know, the Dramione action, and stuff. So hold on for a while.