I've been spending wayyyy too much time in front of this laptop lately, but that's okay. Tomorrow, I go back to work, so I'll try to update as soon as possible. Who knows? I may crank out a few chapters tonight. My favorite scenes to write are dueling scenes, next to the ones where Draco is slowly becoming more human. I seriously can't wait to put my own take on the Battle of Hogwarts. AAAAHHH! (: Thank you Frogster for your review, and to put some insight in that: There wasn't enough of Seamus, Neville, and Dean in the books, so I wanted to expand on them, as I think they are some of the most overlooked characters. Draco is obviously in denial, and Hermione does have bit of Slytherin in her, haha. That girl has a lot of built up anger from being harassed by him for years :P Thanks for reading guys, and as always, stick a review up there. Let's me know you guys are still lovin it.
Chapter Seven: Progress
Hermione had left a small stack of new books on the table next to the food she prepared and/or brought for him each day. She hadn't seen him for close to a week now, which was understandable considering the harm she had inflicted on him. In the meantime, she was racking her brain to come up with answers to Harry and Ron's problems. It helped her block out what she had done to the Slytherin, even though on multiple occasions when she had come home from D.A. practice, that she had wished he was waiting for her in the kitchen like he used too. She found herself wishing he would say something to her, even a little taunt.
In her quest for knowledge to help her friends, she had found close to nothing. It was the same ordeal on this stormy night, the wind and rain howling against the windows. It was damn close to the middle of November, and she knew something was out of place because of the weather lately. Normally, it would've snowed by now, but all that graced her was wind and rain.
Hermione sighed. She had been through almost every book in the library containing information on Ollivander, wands, and Horcruxes, and still she wasn't any further than she was when McGonagall gave her the letter. It frustrated her beyond belief. Two major questions needed to be answered: Why was Gregorovitch so important and how did the two boys manage to destroy the Horcrux? In almost every waking moment, even in her new found solitude, her mind wandered to every possible answer, yet, nothing came to her. The only way she was going to know who Gregorovitch was is if she asked Draco. But, she had no intention. She could find the information on her own.
The library was a little eerie with the torches spitting fire, and the wind and rain howling against the glass panels of the window. Hermione was never one to be easily frightened, but tonight, she was a little on edge. As she made her way through the library and down the hall, she heard footsteps behind her. Who was it? A teacher? A student? It was late, nearing two in the morning. What could they possibly be out of bed for? A slow churn began to flutter in her stomach as she turned around and breathed a sigh of relief. Zac.
"Hermione," he said with a smile. "Hey, there was a disturbance in the Great Hall, turned out to be nothing, but McGonagall sent me to find you."
"McGonagall did?" Hermione repeated, her eyebrows raised. "At this hour?"
"Yeah, must be bloody important," Zac said. Thunder rumbled, shaking their part of the castle. "Would you like me to walk you to her office?"
If he was implying that she couldn't handle herself, she despised it. But, when another roar of thunder clapped, she nodded, and the two began their way up the stairs.
"Awfully strange weather we're having," Zac commented. "Do you think it's because of You-Know-Who?"
"Undoubtedly," mumbled Hermione.
"When do you think he'll strike, Hermione?" Zac asked. Hermione sensed a flicker of fear come over his eyes. She shoulders sagged and she offered him a small smile.
"Not any time soon, I hope," she said. They reached the top of the stairs to the Headmistress' office, and Zac stood behind, letting her go through. "Thanks for accompanying me."
"Sure," Zac said. "Say, Hermione, I know this is a bad time, but do you think maybe we could get together sometime?"
The bluntness of Zac asking her out made Hermione's head daze. Unsure of what to say, she blinked a few times.
"Zac, there's so much on my plate right now…"
"I know, but I just figured I would ask," Zac shrugged. "Let me know if you change your mind. I'm always here."
He offered her a small smile before stepping away. She could hear his footsteps going down the stairs as she rubbed her temples. For Merlin's sake… Could she ever catch a break? Even a small one? Shaking her head, she knocked on the door to McGonagall's office, waiting for her to say she could enter. When she did, she was surprised to find Professor Snape standing next to McGonagall. She hadn't seen him much this year, once or twice in the halls, sometimes he was coming out of McGonagall's office, but he was never at the table during meals and never in his classroom. Presumably, because of all his spying. But, Hermione closed the door behind her, an undeniable feeling of dread taking over her limbs and making them go weak.
"I'm sorry to call you out of bed so late, Miss Granger," apologized McGonagall.
"No, it's fine, I was just, uh, in the library," Hermione said. She eyed Snape's black eyes, and back to the Headmistress, who ignored her passing eyes.
"We have some good and bad news," McGonagall said. "Please, have a seat."
Hermione sat in the chair in front of McGonagall's desk, slightly intimidated that Snape was standing beside the Professor. She inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. McGonagall initiated to Snape to begin speaking. He folded his arms over his chest.
"As a member of the Order, you must know what is going on out there," Snape said softly. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has been attempting to get into the Ministry, as you well know, however, his attempts to gain control have been seized every time. You must understand that this is not saying he won't ever over take the Ministry, but as long as Thicknesse has the right people surrounding him, the Ministry will stand. As for Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, Minvera has told me that you have been trying to get the bottom of the mystery. Have you made any progress?"
Hermione sighed. "No. I'm close to finding who Gregorovitch is, but I need a little more time."
"You can have as much time as you need, Miss Granger, but time is running out," McGonagall said. "I'm sorry, dear, but we need to know what we are up against."
"How is Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked. His black eyes were merciless.
"Fine," Hermione stated quietly.
"Severus and I have conducted a few theories on what can destroy Horcruxes," McGonagall offered. "As you know, Miss Granger, Horcruxes are extremely dark bits of magic. To destroy them is even darker."
"Do you remember Tom Riddle's diary?" asked Snape. Hermione shuddered; how could she forget? "It was indeed a Horcrux, concealing a part of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named from his time here in the school. Potter destroyed it. How?"
"With a baslisk fang," the words came off Hermione's lips, but her brain was clicking away profusely.
"How did Potter defeat the creature?" Snape asked, his stance unmoving.
It dawned on Hermione then. "The Sword of Gryffindor."
"For a long time, it was locked in this room," McGonagall told her, gesturing to a glass case that no longer had anything to display. "However, Dumbledore thought it best to hide it and to create a fake."
"A fake?" Hermione asked, taken aback.
"A fake," Snape repeated. "A fake that was given to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for… ease of mind. He gave it to Bellatrix LeStrange, and it sits in her vault in Gringotts."
"So, does that mean that Harry and Ron have the real one?" Hermione asked, her hazel eyes wide.
"Yes it does, Miss Granger," McGonagall nodded her head in the ever so slightest manner.
"But… How?"
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named can sense when the destruction of his Horcruxes are near," Snape explained softly. "I knew Potter must have had one of them when The Dark Lord began to panic. Therefore, I set out to find him, leaving the sword where it could be of assistance for him."
Hermione almost wanted to stand up and give Snape a huge hug and gratitude for helping Harry and Ron, but she remained in her seat, a small grin upon her pretty face. "Thank you, Professor."
"You are free to go, Miss Granger. Please inform us if you find anything," McGonagall said.
Hermione turned out of her chair, wished the two Professors good night, then proceeded back down the hall to her dorm. Despite the sounds of the wind and rain against the old castle, her insides felt warm. Snape had helped them, and if it wasn't for him, Harry and Ron wouldn't be where they were now. Content with life and all of its mysteries, she whispered her password, and when she stepped into her dorm, Draco was still nowhere to be seen. Disappointed and relieved, she dropped her books on the table, as always, and went to her room for a good night's sleep.
Draco decided that it was time to leave the solitude of his room. Not only was it driving him mad, but it seemed as if the walls were drawing inches closer to him by the minute. After reading all the books Hermione had left him, he ran out of things to do. So, in a leap of courage and Merlin knows what, Draco hopped off his bed and carefully opened his door.
What he saw almost froze him. Hermione was there: curled up on the oversized red chair, with a Gryffindor blanket up to her neck, a book on her knees, and hot tea in her hand. Her hair was pulled back into a messy curly bun, some of the curls fell down to frame her face. Her lips were pink from the hot tea, and her skin was emitting an amber glow from the lights in their Common Room. Her eyes rose from her book, taking in his form. He met her eyes, and stood still for just a moment, before going into the kitchen and pouring himself a bowl of cereal.
For the past week and a half, Draco had been convincing himself that he didn't need her interaction to keep him sane. In fact, he had believed that so much that he was even beginning to enjoy the boundaries of his room. But, there were also little bits of her: her singing, her shuffling, her coming in half past one in the morning, coming from Merlin knows where… He could feel her hazel eyes staring into his back and with a sigh that only he knew about, Draco turned to look at the witch.
"Good morning," she said softly, almost soft enough that Draco had to strain to hear her.
"Yeah," he said and took his bowl of cereal to the kitchen table. He saw her notes, her scribbles about Horcruxes, and guilt raised in his throat once again. "Gregorovitch was a wand maker."
Hermione blinked, almost not believing her ears. Had he really just given that to her? She quickly put her book down and leaned forward in the chair, her legs crossed. Draco rolled his eyes: she looked like a child at Christmas. How more pathetic could she get…
"A wand maker? Well, that explains the relationship to Ollivander," Hermione said. Draco wasn't sure if she was talking to him or herself. "Do you know anything else about him?"
"Not really," Draco sat down at the table, putting his bowl of breakfast next to her pieces of parchment. "Mum said I should've went to him for a wand and that he was better than Ollivander."
"No one in London is better than Ollivander," she said softly. "I've never heard of him."
"That's because he stopped selling wands about three years before I was a first year," Draco retorted. "Went into retirement."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Went into retirement?"
"That's what Mum said," Draco shrugged and took a big bite of his breakfast. "Why the smug look, Granger? Got something on your mind?"
Hermione cast her gaze down to the ground. "I just wonder why Harry and Ron would include them in their letter. Obviously, they're important somehow –"
"No shit. What's this shit about Horcruxes?" Draco demanded. "And why were you trying to figure out how to destroy them?"
Hermione sighed, debating whether to tell him the truth or not. She knew technically she wasn't allowed, but he had given her the information she wanted. "Harry and Ron are hunting for them."
"Why?"
"Uhm… well…" she forced herself to look anywhere but him, still surprised that they were even having a civil conversation. "I'm not really supposed to explain—"
"C'mon, Granger, seriously? Don't be bloody ridiculous," Draco retorted.
"They're essential to destroying Voldemort," Hermione sighed in defeat. "They have to find every single one and destroy it before we can destroy him."
Draco slowly nodded, and looked back down at her papers. "I see."
There was an eerie silence between them. Hermione still didn't fully know Draco's allegiance, or whether he had one at all for that matter. Cautiously, she found herself slowly winding her head to look at his left forearm, but its view was obstructed by her parchment. Draco caught her craning her neck, and sighed impatiently.
"Is there something I can help you with?" he drawled, just wanting to eat his cereal. He supposed he could take it to his room, but then he would be out of her company. Why were his feelings so bloody complicated? It was almost like he had to think through every decision he made now precisely to when he was going to do it and why.
"Nothing," she said quickly and pulled herself out of the chair.
But, Draco knew exactly what she had been searching for, and he didn't want her anywhere near it. No, she was too pure, too innocent for such a horrendous mark of evil. He made sure it was covered as she walked past, noting that she didn't try to look for it, and he was glad she didn't.
"Where are you going?" he asked, as he spun around, watching her disappear into her room.
"I need to go tell McGonagall," she replied.
"Great," Draco muttered and went back to eating his breakfast.
No words were exchanged between the two before Hermione left, and Draco found himself wondering why he didn't try to start an argument with her this morning. Could it have been the way she had softly greeted him, or just that he was enthralled to be in her company? Either way, he was still convinced that she was somehow messing with his head, softening him. He chewed on his cereal, lost in thought. That was how he spent the remainder of his days anymore.
"He was a wandmaker!" Hermione clamored into McGonagall's office, her tone serious and full of worry. "Gregorovitch was a wandmaker!"
McGonagall removed her glasses as the witch bounded up to her. Hermione didn't even notice Snape in the corner, arms crossed. "A wandmaker? That does make sense considering Ollivander was mentioned in the letter."
Hermione watched as McGonagall walked over to where Snape was standing. She saw the look they exchanged: pure worry. Maybe anguish. She couldn't tell, but whatever it was, it gave her an unsettling feeling, as if they knew something that she didn't.
"Go, Severus," McGonagall said.
Snape brushed past Hermione with his dark grace and shut the door behind him. Hermione looked to McGonagall for answers, but she got none.
"You, too, Miss Granger. I will summon you later."
"Professor—"
"I must insist, Hermione. Please assist the others with practice today. I will be out of the office."
With a sigh, knowing that something inevitably had changed, Hermione turned around and left the Headmistress' office. When she was gone, McGonagall cupped her hands against her lips and stared out her window at the grey sky. It was worse than they feared now, much much worse. It wouldn't be long now before Voldemort took over the Ministry. She would have to arrange for somewhere Draco could stay. Maybe with Tonks and Remus. She had sent Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Millicent Bulstrode, even Terence Higgs, to stay with them after the Seventh Years abandoned Hogwarts to join the Death Eaters. Making a mental note to contact the Aurors as soon as possible, she shrugged into her long black coat, popped the collar to cover her neck from the nasty chill outside, and then proceeded to leave her office.
Neville drummed his fingers along the table as Hermione explained what had just happened in McGonagall's office. Seamus and Dean were both exchanging unsure glances back and forth with one another. Ginny's palm covered her mouth and her eyes shone that she was in very deep concentration.
"So, we know something has changed," Neville told the group aloud. "The question is, what scared Snape and McGonagall once they found out that Gregorovitch was a wandmaker?"
Hermione shook her head in bewilderment. "If I could get word out to Harry and Ron, we would have a clearer answer, but it's too risky. I know nothing about this Gregorovitch except that he sold wands in London and retired three years before we started school."
"I wonder what makes him so important," Dean said quietly.
"Wait," Hermione said absently, Draco's words coming into her head again. "Wait…"
Hermione rose from her position on the couch in the Gryffindor Common Room and began to pace back and forth. She didn't know that her four friends were staring at her curiously. Seamus pulled a Milk Chocolate Bar from Honeydukes out from his pocket, which earned a whisper of how he'd gotten his hands on it from Dean. Hermione didn't notice. Draco said his mother wanted him to go there because Gregorovitch was supposedly better than Ollivander. But, if that were the case, why didn't Hermione – or any of the other witches or wizards in the castle – know about him? Because he was an advocate for Dark Magic. If the Malfoy's went there to purchase their wands, no doubt the Black's did as well, and maybe all of the Sacred Twenty Eight… And he realized that he couldn't keep his business going with the Dark Lord absent, so he went into retirement…
"So, you goin tell us what you're thinking, Granger?" Seamus asked.
His words made her regain her surroundings, and she turned to face them. "This is all merely speculation, but what if he supported Voldemort?"
"Supported Voldemort?" Ginny echoed. "Why would you think that?"
"Why else would he be of importance?" Hermione asked. "Think about it… Maybe he supported Voldemort, and all of the Death Eaters went there to buy their wands, or even get new ones. That kept his business going for awhile, but when Voldemort disappeared, he had a reputation for supporting him, so he couldn't keep his business open. That's why he went into retirement."
"Yes, but that doesn't explain why he was on the letter Harry sent you," Dean said. "Is You-Know-Who after him now?"
"Why would he be after him?" Hermione inquired, dropping to the couch beside Ginny.
"Maybe he needs a new wand?" Dean asked in all seriousness, but Seamus smirked.
"You-Know-Who needs a new wand? Boy, that's out there, Dean. Want a piece of chocolate?"
"Thanks, Seamus," Dean took the chunk of chocolate but focused his attention back onto Hermione. "I don't know, Hermione, it's just an idea."
"Where is Ollivander?" Neville asked out of the blue. Four sets of eyes turned to look at him in almost shock, then exchanged glances between them. All this time, they had assumed he was in Diagon Alley, in his shop, as always. But, they didn't know if he was or not.
Ginny's eyes met Neville's, and Seamus and Dean looked at one another. The air became uncomfortable as they realized something may have happened to their beloved wandmaker.
"What if he's not there?" Ginny whispered. "What if something happened to him?"
"We could ask the first years," Seamus suggested, but even his tone had doubt to it.
"No, if something happened to Ollivander it would've happened after the beginning of the term," Dean reasoned. "For publicity sake."
"To keep everything normal," Hermione agreed, slowly nodding her head. "Maybe that's why McGonagall and Snape were in such a rush to leave. McGonagall did say she would be out of her office for the day…"
"Okay, let's presume the worst," Seamus said, straightening his back against the couch across from Hermione and Ginny. "If something did happen to Ollivander, why did it happen?"
Dean's fingers brushed his upper lip. "I told you, Seamus, maybe You-Know-Who needed a new wand."
"Yes, but other reasons, mate," Seamus said to his friend.
"What other reason could there possibly be? Why would you be after a wandmaker if you didn't need a new wand?" Dean asked. There was too much logic in that statement for it to not be true.
Hermione ran a hand through her hair, and there was silence. It was an uncomfortable silence, the kind that made your stomach turn over a few times and your nerves begin to tingle. The five friends sat in the Common Room like that for quite awhile without speaking, all just not knowing what to say.
Draco was waiting for Hermione to come back to her dorm, absently pacing. He had tried to read a few times, tried to cook without success (though he had managed to brew tea… It hadn't been good tea, but at least it was something), hell, he'd even tried curling up inside of the big red chair, but to no avail. She still wasn't back yet. Merlin, what could be taking her so long? It was almost three. Every time the clock ticked, Draco would tap his finger against the side of his leg impatiently. It was almost as if her presence this morning had soothed him, made him want to be around her so much that he was waiting like a puppy for her to come home. Merlin's Beard… Home…
He wanted to know what she had found out. In a small way, he wanted to help her. Her, not The Order, not that pathetic excuse for a hero Potter and his sidekick. That's why he had been studying her parchments, trying to patch ideas together for her. None of which he told her, of course, but he kept them tucked away just in case. Their conversation this morning had been… Good. They hadn't argued, and Draco was still left wondering why he didn't pounce on the chance. Maybe it was his guilt. The guilt that was popping up now that he realized that she may not come back tonight. Merlin forbid she still be mad at him…
It was right then when the door opened. He stopped in his pace, and turned to see the witch sneak in, a solemn look on her face. She met his eyes, hazel on grey, and walked to her room. Before she could get there, he took long strides to intercept her. Hermione didn't want an argument, especially since they had a halfway decent conversation this morning that led to some useful information. But now, she was impatiently waiting for McGonagall's return so she could know exactly what was happening. Therefore, she was not in the mood to deal with her Slytherin companion.
"Granger, what the hell is going on?" Draco demanded.
"I don't want to talk about it," Hermione mumbled, attempting to get past him.
No, she wasn't going to get past him. He was too far invested in this now, now he needed to know.
"Tell me, Granger," he said, an octave louder. "What the hell is going on?"
"Just speculation," Hermione replied begrudgingly and once again attempted to move past him. Draco once again stepped in her way. "Draco, please…"
Damn her pleases. Damn her making him feel guilty. Damn her to hell, that stupid little… He couldn't force himself to think it, let alone say it. With a roll of his eyes, he stepped out of her way, allowing her passage to her bedroom. Hermione thanked him quietly, and brushed past him. Her shoulder brushed his, and he looked down to the floor.
"Granger," he said. Hermione stopped and looked behind her. "Gregorovitch made wands for Dark Wizards."
Hermione let out a shallow breath. So he had known more than what he led her onto believe, and it confirmed her suspicions. She turned all the way around, studying his back, seeing the ripple of his muscle clench as he breathed, knowing all too well that it was hard for him to say these things to her. But, they needed to be said.
"Did he make your father's wand?" Hermione asked bluntly.
Draco's breath caught in his throat, and fury began to flow back into his veins. "I told you never to speak about my father."
"I'm sorry," Hermione apologized, realizing that she had crossed a line that wasn't meant to be crossed and knowing all too well that he had given her all the information she was getting.
"Whatever, I shouldn't have said anything anyway," Draco muttered.
Hermione watched as he strode back into his room and shut the door. This was a step above slamming it, but she could sense that her bringing up Lucius made Draco's anger seep back into him. She surely hoped it wasn't permanent, but she found herself wondering what she would feel in his situation. What if her father and her family were the most dedicated followers to the Dark Lord? Of course, she would be repulsed, disgusted, even disowning. But, would she be if she was raised the way he was? To believe that the only true race of wizards was Pure-Blood's and that Half-Blood's, Muggle-born's, and Blood Traitor's were inferior? To have such a burden placed on her shoulders, that everyone around her knew that she was the child of one of the most fearsome Death Eaters, one of the most evil families, from both sides: The Malfoy's and the Black's. To be expected to follow in her parents footsteps, to not have a choice. It would be bloody miserable. Suddenly, she understood him a bit more.