Disclaimer: Not mine, making no money.
A/N: Many thanks to my beta, Trinka! Please read and enjoy!
Trap Laid
"Sirius," James hissed from across the table, claiming their attention with his urgent snap, a look of wounded disbelief followed by unhappiness alighting on his face as he jabbed his friend in the ribs with a sharp elbow, his quick nod indicating what he was seeing.
Rubbing his ribcage and muttering under his breath, Sirius swiveled his head to follow James' glance. In a unified motion, eyes drawn by the attention of the two boys, Hermione, Remus and Peter looked as well.
"Is that Walt with Evans?" Sirius asked, bruised body forgotten as he twisted fully, torquing his spine and abandoning his excellently bred manners.
"I can't believe this. He knows I like her," James whispered indignantly. Hermione smiled to herself, watching Lily's curls bounce, reflecting the candlelight as she walked down the length of the Great Hall, hand tucked into the crook of Walt Winters' arm, head cocked as she listened attentively to some words none of them could make out. Without a glance for the group of boys staring at her, she drew level with them and passed them by, allowing her date for the evening to help her into her seat towards the far end of the table near Ludo Bagman.
"Why would he do this to me?" James was moaning, the food appearing in front of them completely ignored in favor of watching the girl of his dreams chattering eagerly with the other boy.
"Bad form, that," Sirius agreed sagely. "Moving in on her. Especially with you guys on the team together."
"I know. I've staked her out. He knows I have." Next to Hermione, Remus shifted guiltily, the unknown agent of his friend's distress. After all, it had been he who had spoken to Ludo, and the round-faced Quidditch captain had delightedly told Remus that Walt had, in fact, been eyeing Lily for some months, trying to work up the nerve to invite her out.
Hermione rolled her eyes at this overt, dramatic display of disappointment at Walt having broken the complicated rules of honor that govern teenage boys and rose, grabbing a roll to assuage her grumbling stomach. Her first instinct was to visit the library and continue her research regarding the still elusive Mr. Zabini, but a hand settled over hers as she stood to go, smooth fingertips brushing over the back of her hand in a gesture of comfortable possession and query, and she swallowed a groan. His touch was a physical reminder of the task she had left unfinished, the chore she had been avoiding that she had to handle before either of them did something spectacularly embarrassing. Pushing aside the large part of her that urged her simply to run to her haven, she spoke instead.
"Remus, want to go for a walk while these guys indulge in their pity party?"
"Sure," he agreed readily, reaching for the bread basket that had appeared in front of his face a few moments before, and picking up his goblet full of pumpkin juice. They were forbidden to carry cutlery and dinnerware from the Great Hall, but in the confusion surrounding the beginning of the feast, necks craning and whispers scurrying from table to table about new couples and – more importantly – those who were not coupled and should have been, no one noticed the small cup clutched in his hand as he followed her out.
She blindly started for the side door, almost instinctively needing the freedom and privacy of the sky and the grounds, and stopped herself. The low shafts of light still streaming through the windows pooled in orange squares, the color of the setting sun, and the day had indeed been biting, the wind piercing cloaks and charms. It would only be getting colder now as the sun dipped towards the horizon. She changed direction and instead went up the stairs, her feet treading another familiar path towards the library, Remus at her side.
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As Hermione rounded the corner with Remus Lupin, Kassandra was descending the staircase that led to the owlery. Her hand itched faintly with the after-effects of Lucius' promise, and she curled her fingers, as if she could wrap them around her intangible goal. She had debated for a moment telling her twin about her meeting with Malfoy and the fruits it had yielded, and almost instantly decided against it. Much as she treasured their re-established closeness, Kassandra knew her sister would never approve of her actions, and she might warn Granger. Kassandra had seen the look of wary surprise on Klytemnestra's face this morning when the younger witch had defended them to Professor McGonagall, and her sister's firm sense of fair play – something Kassandra was discovering she lacked – might cause her to spoil their plan.
And for the future - should Granger ever figure out who was behind her removal - the fewer people implicated, the better.
Kassandra barely heard the voices as her foot reached for the bottom of the stairs, and she snatched it back before it could betray her position, head cocked as she listened intently, something about the cadence of the female voice was irritatingly familiar…
Granger. Walking with her new boyfriend. A grim smile of satisfaction turned the corners of her mouth, the hard ruthlessness she had inherited from her father pronounced in her eyes. It was an expression Klytemnestra hated – not for what it was, but for what it invariably foretold.
Luck stood with her tonight. The first step towards getting rid of the girl was knowing when and where they could do it. And for that they needed...
Kassandra folded herself into the shadow of the stone wall, hoping that Granger's course with Lupin would not bring her to the Owlery, and thus face-to-face with the raven-haired witch. She could hear her own heartbeat, the blood that seemed too loud rushing in her ears as their voices grew louder, though still muffled, as if they were trying to have a private conversation in the large, public space.
They did not glance in the Slytherin's direction as they passed, and she pointed the wand hidden in her sleeve towards the younger girl. A whispered spell sent a faint ghost of light to catch onto Granger's tangled hair, glow brighter at contact, and fade as it soaked into the strands. Kassandra waited until they had rounded the corner, walls interrupting her view of the absorbed pair, and murmured another spell. Her wand spun towards where they were walking, and continued to slowly inscribe a circle in the air as they moved farther away, the point tracing Hermione.
Kassandra pushed the narrow strip of wood into her pocket with determination, her eyes diamond sharp and glittering like obsidian.
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Unaware of the Locator Hex making the ends of her hair flare with silver fire, Hermione was nervously composing herself, wishing fervently that she had begged off going to the bash tonight in favor of Arithmancy study. Her books seemed like paradise in comparison to the silence she had allowed to become oppressive as she continued to delay.
"Remus…" she started hesitantly as he strode next to her. Hermione was grateful that he seemed to sense her mood, for he had not reached to take her hand or wrap an arm around her waist. She glanced around, saw the passageway was empty, and inhaled deeply, a diver preparing to plunge.
"Remus, I'm flattered you asked me to the dance tonight, and you're a great friend-"
"Somehow, I think I know where this is headed," he cut her off dryly, sipping his pumpkin juice. "But you want to go as friends. Not like we're together."
She almost visibly winced at the swallowed disappointment she heard in the treble of his voice, in his reaching for an aloofness that did not quite pass as genuine. But truth was truth, and she had allowed her cowardice to still her tongue for long enough.
"Yes." The word left her mouth in a whoosh of sound, carried on a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Is that okay?"
"Of course." Another sip of juice, and then he frowned, hurt and puzzlement married on his features. "But why didn't you tell me when I asked you?"
"When you first asked, I thought you meant as friends. I've never…at my old school…I haven't been asked out a lot," she stumbled lamely, searching for the right way to express herself without giving away any details. "And then, when I figured it out…I felt so stupid, and I didn't want to hurt your feelings."
He smiled. "Thank you for your consideration. They're a bit battered, but I think they'll be all right."
"I'm sorry, Remus." The sincerity in her voice soothed him and the grin stretched to finally light his eyes.
"I'll just have to stand in a corner tonight and pine away with James, both of us dying for the love of a woman," he said dramatically, throwing the hand with a bread roll across his forehead like a distressed damsel from a 1930's melodrama. "Whatever shall we do, when the lights of our lives are engaged elsewhere?"
"All right, Romeo," she laughed, cutting short his performance as he made to drop to one knee in his pathos. "Let's go back to dinner." She checked her watch. "It's been almost twenty minutes. Hopefully James will have stopped brooding."
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James had not stopped brooding, and he sulked all night, throwing jealous glares from a darkened corner where he stood ensconced with Peter, muttering dire imprecations under his breath. Though highly unpopular with the girls of her dormitory, Sirius seemed to be the rest of Gryffindor House's idea of Hogwarts' Most Eligible Bachelor, and he barely left the dance floor to attend to his best friend as he partnered nearly every girl in the room – including Hermione, who delighted in the party now that she was no longer worried about Remus. At some point, she had seen Lily's red curls slipping out the Fat Lady with Walt, and Hermione made a mental note to ask her roommate about it the following day.
Breakfast time came – James still sullenly shoving his kippers around his plate as he sipped his coffee – and with it, the mail. A smart-looking owl dropped an envelope on Sirius' plate, stuck out its leg to allow the yawning wizard to put five Knuts in the small leather bag tied there, and took off again.
"What is it?" Hermione asked curiously, fingers already stretched towards the envelope in anticipation.
"From the apothecary in Diagon Alley," Sirius replied, voice still heavy with sleep. He squinted at the ceiling, which was currently filled with the warm light of a full-strength winter sun. "How can it be so bright this early in the morning?"
"Sirius Black, it's ten o'clock!" Hermione said with affectionate exasperation. "Just because we chose not to go to sleep until three am doesn't make it early now!" She tilted her chin towards the paper. "What did they say?"
He slit the envelope, scanned the message and rolled his eyes, tossing the short, crisply folded parchment onto the table. As one, the other four leaned in to read it.
"They don't have it?" James said in disbelief, irritation at this new obstacle replacing his pouting over Lily immediately.
"Is there anywhere else we can get it from?" Sirius groaned.
"I don't think so. At least, not easily. We might have to wait until Hogsmeade has a new shipment," Hermione replied, her mouth twisting in annoyance. Elderflower was hardly an obscure plant…but it was not a commonly used ingredient in potion making as the acidic pollen interacted poorly with many minerals.
She drummed her fingers on the table as she thought, half-listening as Sirius and James roundly abused every apothecary they could think of for not carrying what they needed.
"Well," she said to no one in particular. "If that's all, I'm going to the library."
"Hermione, it's Sunday," James said, his bafflement clear in his voice. "Why are you working?"
"You know, if you spent half the time on the Quidditch pitch that you do on your essays, you'd be a world-class flyer," Sirius added.
"Be that as it may, flying makes me queasy and unlike Quidditch, our professors carethat we complete our schoolwork. And, in case you've forgotten, we have a detention tomorrow night," she responded. "I want to get my homework done before then."
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Hagrid was standing the in Great Hall when Hermione, Remus and Peter hurried in to meet him. Hermione started to smile, to call a familiar greeting, and stopped herself right before the words left her lips, a faint feeling of disappointment ghosting through her as she stilled her tongue. But the Hermione who was friends with Hagrid did not exist here-and-now, and she had had almost no interaction with half-giant since her arrival six months ago. A sudden sense of loss spiked through her, and she allowed it to wash over her and fade to a dull regret as the look he turned on them was kind, but impersonally so.
As they stopped in front of him, Hagrid pulled out a large, tarnishing pocket watch that was almost the size of Hermione's face, and she was surprised to discover that she had actually forgotten how large he really was. Dwarfed by the soaring towers of the castle, the massive mountains and ancient trees as he went about his duties as Keeper of the Keys, it was easy to forget after glimpsing him for months only through the windows or briefly at dinner.
"Righ' on time," he smiled approvingly, and glanced at a scrap of paper that had probably been crisp when the possession of Professor McGonagall, but now bore water marks and dirt streaks from his handling, and had one corner shredded – likely lost to the claws of yet another creature that Hagrid would call interesting while the rest of the world classified it with a triple-X warning. 'We're waitin' fer two more.' He shook his great head, black beard swaying back and forth. 'Slytherins.' He winked at them. 'I reckon you lot gave 'em no more'n they deserved, eh?'
Peter and Remus both laughed, and Hermione could not contain her smile. Twenty years would only further entrench Hagrid's dismal view of the serpents' House, and given what they had discovered during the second opening of the Chamber of Secrets, Hermione was unsurprised that he already had a negative attitude towards them.
The double doors opened once again, and Lestrange and Avery raced in. They doubled over as they reached Hagrid, and Hermione, Peter and Remus traded glances at their theatrical wheezing. Even if they had run all the way from the Slytherin common room, they were not this out of breath. But Hermione quickly called to mind Draco Malfoy's slurs and insults – more directed at Hagrid than any other Hogwarts professor – and it seemed that, like many things, doubting the kind-hearted man's intelligence had passed from one generation to the next.
"Stan' up," he ordered them gruffly, glancing back at his watch again before stowing it in his pocket. "Yer three minutes late, so that'll be another three points from each o' yeh fer makin' us wait." Both boys were upright in a flash, anger replacing the flush from running in their cheeks as six emeralds flew upwards in the Slytherin hourglass.
"Come on," the big man ordered, starting for one of the many side doors that would lead them outside.
"What are we doing for detention tonight?" Hermione asked, and hastily tacked on a, "Sir," as she realized her tone had been far too conversational for the person he thought she was.
"Gatherin' a few things fer Professor Sprout in th' fores'," Hagrid rumbled his reply as he started across the law, forging another path through the unbroken snow, his wide passage allowing Hermione and Remus to walk behind him side-by-side.
"Aw, that's so cute," Hermione heard Lestrange drawl behind them. "A moon-lit stroll together. How romantic."
Hermione felt Remus tense next to her, and saw both him and Peter automatically glance skyward, even though the full moon was another week and a half away, and it was a slightly-more-than-half orb that shed cold, pale light over the refracting snowscape.
"They even have a chaperone," Avery sniggered, indicating Hagrid.
"Tha's enough talk," Hagrid growled from his place in front of them, turning around to glower at the boys insolently bringing up the rear and keeping themselves fifteen feet behind the Gryffindors in front of them. "Yer not out here on a social jaunt, you two. We have plants ter gather. Now, here," he thrust several pages of parchment at each of them. Shivering, gloved fingers extending to take them, the five students gathered around him in a close-packed half-circle, dislike suspended in favor of warmth.
"Are we going into the forest?" Avery's tone quavered slightly, and Peter looked positively panic-stricken at this suggestion.
Hagrid gave the Slytherin a contemptuous look. "O' course. Yeh don' see these lyin' around on the snow, do yeh? But on'y a few hun'red yards. All of these plants can be found in th' outer layer of the forest, just past th' unnergrowth but long before yeh find th' really big trees. Don' get too far in. Most things are hibernatin' just now, but there're some nasty things in there that never sleep."
"Can we go in pairs?" Hermione asked quietly. She had served her first-ever detention in the forest, although the circumstances then had been far worse – they had been hunting Voldemort, albeit in the form of Professor Quirrell – and she had been comforted by the presence of first Harry and then Neville as companions.
"Natur'ly," he replied good-naturedly. "An' use yer wands ter keep yerselves warm and light up where yer searching. Did yer bring knives?"
Five silver blades gleamed in the wand light, and Hagrid nodded. "Good. Go to it. We have three hours ter get everything on yer lists. If yeh collect it faster, yeh can finish earlier."
Remus and Peter had both scooted closer to Hermione when she had asked the question about partners, and now, so smoothly it looked coordinated, both turned to her, mouths open to stream faint clouds of heat in the frozen air.
"I'm sure all three of us can go together," she cut them both off and started for the tree line only a few paces in front of them. The boys, looking quite relieved at this solution, followed.
When he would think about it years later, Remus Lupin would recall this moment as one of many where Hermione did not fully make sense to him. The swiftness with which she moved towards the forbidding, gnarled branches iced with frost, and the ease of her stride and straight, unafraid slant of her shoulders indicated a knowledge of the place too intimate for her short span of time at Hogwarts, and spoke of a confidence that no thirteen-year-old girl could possess.
But even as his brain absorbed the image of her silhouette against stars and frozen trees, his cold feet hurried him forward into the forest, the more immediate concern of completing his task so that he could get inside and sit by the fire overriding his need to puzzle through his new friend.
"I found the silver jewelweed!" Peter announced delightedly ahead of him. Hermione wand tip joined that of Peter, and Remus saw the crystallized sigh rather than hearing her exhale.
"No, Peter. It's the right color, this silver-blue, but remember what Professor Sprout said about jewelweed last week in Herbology? It has four leaves. This has seven."
"Oh," Peter's face fell, but Hermione wasn't paying attention. She was examining the flower more closely, a look of incredulous surprise on her face.
When she looked up at Remus, she was grinning. "On the other hand, elderflower is almost the same color – generally a little more purple than jewelweed – anddoes have seven leaves. You found it, Peter!"
"What?" Peter blinked, baffled at this sudden turnabout from correction to praise.
"Elderflower?" breathed Remus, kneeling next to Hermione, the snow melting through his outer robe ignored as he stared at the vine wrapping a slender trunk. "We can use this for the potion?"
"I'll have to harvest and dry it, but yes," she replied, eyes shining. Remus' blade was already stretching for it, ready to skin the many flowers from the vine with a sweep of his arm, but Hermione's hand stopped him.
"Not now. Hagrid is taking everything we get tonight, and students aren't allowed to take herbs directly from the forest for personal use. I can come back another time this week."
"Let me help," Remus said.
"Probably not," Hermione shook her head. "One is much less noticeable than a crowd, and you know that if Sirius and James hear about it, they'll come too."
"You don't want to tell them?" Remus said in surprise. "After they've been harping non-stop for the past two days?"
"Of course I do. After I get it," she responded with a smile.
"Less chatterin' an' more gatherin'!" Hagrid bellowed from fifty feet away. The three of them jumped guiltily, but Hermione heard Lestrange's voice raised with hers to say, "Yes, sir," before the trio turned back to the weed, glittering blue with the frost.
"I'll come back for it tomorrow or Wednesday. We won't have to wait long."
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"Leave your samples on my desk! Good weekend, everyone! Severus, Miss Granger, Miss Evans – a moment?"
Lily and Hermione swapped exasperated glances as they stoppered their beakers and Evanesco'd their cauldrons. Lily had been delighted to learn the cleaning spell, and Hermione's twinge of guilt for teaching the other witch a spell they hadn't learned until their fourth or fifth year had been mild. One charm would hardly make a difference.
"Ten Galleons says it's another one of those rotten dinners," Hermione muttered out of the side of her mouth as they approached the desk at the front of the dungeon.
"I'm not taking that bet," Lily replied smartly.
"Hermione! We'll be outside!" James bellowed over the din. Both Hermione and Lily turned at the sound of the older girl's name, and as James' eyes settled inevitably on Lily, he flushed bright red and dashed from the room. Lily rolled her eyes, but Hermione's heart squeezed. Lily and Walt had been walking around holding hands all week, causing James to lapse into fits of sulking whenever they walked by, and Ludo had remarked to Sirius and Remus that the locker room had developed a certain…chilliness this past week. Hermione had found herself wishing that she could tell her impulsive and demanding but devoted, funny and ever-hopeful friend that he shouldn't worry – that in the end, it would be his ring on Lily's finger…
And your bodies in ashes less than two years after that, she thought bleakly, and batted the thought away before the familiar depression could ambush her.
At Slughorn's desk, Snape stood poker-backed and exuding coldness. Lily ignored him as a matter of course, but Hermione frowned. The truce forged when he had heard her sing had been completely broken, and what truly bothered her was that she didn't know why. She reflected that as an adult the leash on his temper was short, and that she should not be surprised that as a teen it seemed almost nonexistent. But he prickled so easily, like a hedgehog raising its spines, and Hermione did not know how to avoid provoking him.
"I'm having a get-together tomorrow night," Slughorn said jovially. "My office, six-thirty."
Hermione stifled her instinct to groan – she wanted to harvest the flowers tomorrow. Between homework, Lily and the Marauders, she had not found time as quickly as she'd hoped to escape the castle and get the final ingredient for their potion. Remus' eyes sparkled with their secret every time James or Sirius mentioned it, and Peter was close to giving it away. Tomorrow would have been perfect…
"I see that look, missy! It means you're going to beg off for studying. But tomorrow is a Saturday, and I know you don't need to spend the whole night working. I expect the three of you here," her round professor said jovially, cutting off her potential objection with a twinkle in his eye that he probably thought made him charming.
"Yes, sir," the girls said in unison, trying to sound pleased to be invited rather than bored. Severus murmured his acceptance before hurrying back towards his desk. The Gryffindors' glass vials hit the desk with dullthunks at the same time, and they turned together to walk out.
"I noticed Remus wasn't in your pocket today. You did finally talk to him?" Lily asked Hermione as they grabbed their bags from their seats. Neither of them noticed the Slytherin near the door slow as he heard his rival's name, head turning to allow his ears to catch more of the conversation.
"I did. Before the dance. You might have seen it earlier if you hadn't developed a sudden addiction to the Quidditch pitch," Hermione teased.
"It's Ludo's fault for having practice four days a week," Lily said, her blush easy to see in the torch lit dungeon. "But he seems to have taken it well."
"He did," Hermione answered quietly, grateful beyond measure for the younger boy's complete acceptance of her decision. His evident lack of heartbreak had made the transition smoother for the rest of the tight-knit quad, and Sirius and James had given her little grief.
"I'm glad he's more mature than the others." Lily pulled a face as they started for the door. "I wish James would bugger off so easily." Then her features brightened, green eyes almost glowing with their intensity. "Did I tell you? Walt and I are going to have dinner together tonight!"
They walked past Snape – busily digging for something in his bag as an excuse to continue standing there – as they made their way out, Lily filling Hermione's ear with excited details. His face scrupulously turned towards the floor and his things, neither girl could see the peculiar, shielded expression comprised of surprise, relief and hope inscribed on the normally somber face as they exited the room.
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After their first dinner around Slughorn's own miniature version of a round table, Hermione and Lily had made a point of being early – when they couldn't wiggle out of coming. The late entrance had been a mistake, highlighting their arrival and, consequently, their positions as two of the youngest and the only two Gryffindors to be invited into the club. Hermione felt that inter-House politics had not been a large part of her life at the Hogwarts of her own time, but knew that they were intricately intertwined with it now, and that an important aspect of survival was understanding the rules of the complicated game.
To that end, she had also made a conscious effort always to sit where Lucius Malfoy could be far enough away from her that interaction with him was little, but close enough to observe his reactions to the discussion, fighting her gut instinct to ignore him completely. He had proven himself a threat during her first term, and the old adage, Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, had run through her mind on more than one occasion as she watched him play the prince with his Slytherin courtiers and betrothed. Those accustomed to getting what they wanted were all the more dangerous because 'no' was not a word in their experience – unless they were the ones saying it.
Tonight, as planned, they were the first to arrive, and Hermione purposefully picked up her water glass – she and Lily had also made a point of never drinking anything other than clear water – standing near the door with her friend, refusing to sit until Lucius arrived with the Slytherin contingent, at which point the table would fill and Hermione could choose her place.
They did not have long to wait. A few friendly sentences exchanged with their professor saw Lucius sweeping in the door, Walden Macnair and Narcissa Black right behind him, the Zabini twins paired together behind them, and last in the line up came Severus Snape, hands jammed into his pockets, his shoulders hunched in a gesture of defense from the world.
Hermione unobtrusively slid around the table as chair legs scraped across stone, bringing her glass to her mouth to mask the movement of her eyes as she observed. In an offhand motion, Lucius deftly pulled out Narcissa's chair for her, even as Macnair moved one for him. It was a repetition of what they did every meal in Slughorn's office, and it reminded Hermione of nothing so much as a vain, petty lord and his attendants. This sequence did not intrigue her. But as the Zabini twins brushed by him to come around the table, Kassandra's dark eyes locked with Lucius' grey over Narcissa's head for an instant, questioning smiles curving both mouths even as their eyes remained flint-hard.
Klytemnestra, in front of her sister, missed the moment, but the youngest member of the family, entering behind his cousins, did not, and as Kassandra and Lucius broke their brief connection, Hermione and Snape's eyes locked over the table, acknowledgement of what they'd seen solidifying as it was shared. Hermione set down her water, marking her seat, but her hand touched the back of the still unclaimed chair to her right, her brown eyes still on the tall Slytherin, her gesture one of invitation. Hesitation in the black eyes was followed by a flicker of recklessness, a decided acceptance and a touch of hope that flared and dimmed as he hastily throttled the emotion. As Lily sank onto the plush seat to Hermione's left, Snape pulled out the chair on her other side.
"What was that?" she muttered to him, voice covered by the rustling movement of their dinner companions.
"I don't know," he admitted, his mind whirring, engaged in wondering what had transpired recently between the Malfoy Heir and his cousin who had been assiduously, pointedly, avoiding him for the past seven weeks. A slanted glance towards Klytemnestra told him that the elder twin bore just as much malice towards Malfoy that she always had, and the easy way she sat with her sister meant she had no inkling of what had just occurred. "Maybe she's started seeing him again?
From her place down the table, Kassandra's eye was caught by Severus, imbedded in conversation with the Gryffindor witch as if they had not been deliberately not speaking to each other for the past six weeks and frowned, nudging her twin.
As Klytemnestra turned her head, Hermione laughed, and the tiny smile quirking her cousin's mouth gave her a sharp jolt of misgiving, his longing and feelings obvious in his rising color, in his usually guarded eye. Had Kassandra made a mistake in telling Lucius what he had wanted to know?
As she swung her head back to her menu, her gaze snagged on the cold, sea-colored eyes of Slytherin's crown prince and she felt her stomach drop.
The determination glittering there left her with no doubts. Mistake or no, it was too late to change her mind.
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"Where are you going?" Lily asked as Hermione seized her heavy cloak, black scarf and gloves from their dormitory and started for the door.
"I have an errand to run."
"At ten o'clock on a Saturday night? Outside in the middle of February? Hermione, there's one and a half feet of snow on the ground."
Hermione grimaced, crossed back to her trunk and rooted for the heavy boots she had waterproofed the year before with a spell.
"Is this some crazy plan with the boys?" Hermione schooled herself not to smile. For Lily's tone, though laden with genuine exasperation, was also graced by the slightest touch of affection – a new note, Hermione was sure, since the witch from the future had arrived. Lily was already warming to Remus, and though Hermione was sure it would take time, the older girl no longer thought it quite so impossible as it had seemed that her fiery friend would wed James.
"Yes. In a roundabout way," Hermione replied, quickly lacing up her boots. "I should be back in thirty minutes."
"What are you doing?" Lily asked, unable to contain her curiosity.
Hermione merely flashed her a smile, and vanished out the door, black clothes melding with shadows in the darkened staircase.
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The forest loomed ahead of her, the sun's white, reflected light from her sister orb striking the frost-covered trees and making them glow with a luminescence that lent the already-eerie grounds a ghost-like cast, as if they would vanish upon closer inspection, a mirage to entrap the unwary.
But as Hermione crunched through the snow, wincing at the noise her feet made while cracking the icy covering, the twisted trunks and jutting branches of pine, birch, ash, rowan, beech and dozens of others only sharpened in her vision, and snatched at her clothing as she crossed the boundary from sparkling lawn into the silent giants.
She had no trouble locating the colony of trees wrapped with frozen elderflower, but as she reached into her pocket for her knife, her fingers found only the smooth wood of her wand, not the cold metal she was seeking.
Uttering a low, clipped cry of frustration, Hermione glared at the vine in front of her. Ice coated it in thick, beautiful patterns, sealing it to the tree and rendering her hands useless. But if she went back inside Hogwarts, she knew she would not want to come back out…
The memory of singing with Snape's clarinet and Klytemnestra's viola popped to the front of her mind, and she vividly recalled Transfiguring Snape's rat. She bit one side of her lower lip speculatively as she gazed at the glittering ice encasing the elderflower. She had no idea how she might sing to melt it, but she had also not known – before she started singing – what sounds would produce a rat from a teacup.
They had been discovered…but then, Mroczek had been here looking for her. There was no one seeking her now, and she could feel her spirit began to soar as her throat prepared to open, the desire to perform for the night as immediate as her thoughts.
Humming a scale to warm cords rough with cold, Hermione let out one quiet, but swooping note, allowing her voice to run from the bottom of her range to the top, and watched in delight as the ice began to drip, and then to run with her voice in rivulets of water over the frozen tree bark.
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Kassandra's wand told her the girl had left the castle walls, the tip glowing red-hot briefly before fading. She rose from her bed swiftly, jamming her feet into her boots, preparations for sleep abandoned as she saw their opportunity unexpectedly arrive.
It had taken little discussion to reach the conclusion that removing anyone from within the walls of the castle would be difficult to the point of impossibility. So she and Lucius had decided that they would have to find a time that the girl left the castle walls – not a common occurrence in the dead of winter, especially with Hogsmeade just behind them. But luck had provided for them again, and she would not spurn what was likely to be their only chance for some time, in spite of her premature chills as her body anticipated breathing air that was well below zero.
Sending another prayer of thanks to whichever god had decided to help her that Klytemnestra was buried in studying with one of their sixth-year friends and not present to ask her perceptive and awkward questions, Kassandra grabbed her heavy cloak and descended into the Slytherin common room, where she knew she would find the white-blond Slytherin surrounded by his many hangers-on.
888
They could hear the singing well in advance of being able to see her, and Kassandra felt her breath catch, her heart pinching as her soul nearly winged from her body, greedily drinking the sound. Klytemnestra was right. The girl's skill was beyond beautiful, the quality of the notes ringing over the snow, ice and earth seemed to come from the stars rather than a human being, and Kassandra felt tears streaming down her face as she listened to the young woman, feeling spring stir in her voice.
"She's making it easier for us." The gloating, smooth tones of Lucius Malfoy broke the spell that had halted the raven-haired witch in the middle of the grounds, mindless of her total exposure as a black shadow on pure white. She glared at him in the dark, watching his teeth flash brighter than the snow underfoot as he shot her a hard smile.
"True," Kassandra allowed quietly, clearing her throat to force it back to normality, turning her head to wipe her unseen tears from her face with her scarf. She tossed a glance over her shoulder at a wary Walden Macnair. She had not been overly thrilled at Lucius' insistence on his coming, no more had he, since that meant a foray into the winter night, but the arrogant prince got his way. Lucius always got his way.
But now…life danced up her spine as she listened, her ears eagerly straining for every dip, every slide, every note piping from the trees, and the daughter of Anthony Zabini wanted nothing more than to pull out the shrunk instrument in her pocket and meld with that perfect sound, add to it, multiply it until it filled not just the ring of mountains surrounding the castle but the entire world. Granger's voice spoke of beginnings, of snow melt and rivers roaring, of saplings rising and flowers turning out their new leaves. It contained the passion of mating animals, the ferocity of their competition and the calmer, but no less consuming, love of a new-made mother.
Without conscious thought, the case that had fit in her pocket was in the palm of her hand, and she had enlarged it, fingers on the cold metal of the clasp-
"What are you doing?" Lucius hissed, his kid-gloved hand seizing hers and tearing it away from the bronze. "I thought you said we were going into the forest? So as not to be seen?"
For a moment, hatred and fury blazed in her black eyes, the mantle of her aristocracy merging with anger at being denied that which she most desired. Lucius released her, stunned by the intensity of the dark orbs that blistered as they focused on him, stepping back as the force of her rage threatened to wash over him in the form of hexes from her wand.
"Kassandra! I made you a promise," he hissed as the fire began to dim, rationality replacing the compulsion to obey the story told by the voice in the trees. Lucius was flexing the hand he'd sliced open to persuade her. "We're going to do this. Now."
The young woman breathed deeply, focusing all of her thought on letting the freezing air in and out of her lungs, blocking out the sound that beckoned from the trees glittering in the moon light like massive, upside-down icicles. Lucius had sworn. For him, for her sister, for her cousin – for her family – she could not refuse him now, regardless of the lightness she felt as wave after wave of sound rebounded from her eardrums.
"Right," she nodded shortly, and cast a spell on her ears, filling them with a faint, irritating buzzing. It would be too easy to fall prey to that incomparable voice again.
She gestured with one hand for Walden to fan to her right, entering the forest to stand at the due south point. Lucius would stand to the east, and she would be northwest, playing her own, perfectly-made French horn. The boys would be using incantations to bounce Hermione's song back on her, and the added impetus of Kassandra's horn would confine the younger girl's power, rendering her helpless and allowing Lucius to do what he wanted with her.
As she passed the first layer of foliage, Kassandra halted, hidden from the castle windows by the tangle of branches. Her lips tucked into the round piece it fit so well, and she hesitated, shame, guilt and fear ripping through her, stealing her breath. If she did this, she would be in violation of nearly every law – both those made by the Ministry and her family's own stringent code – she could think of. She was using her power and knowledge to hurt another. And not only another, but one of her kind, a fellow musician – someone she should be willing to protect at all costs, not betray…and that voice was something to be valued beyond measure, a priceless pearl…
She is different, Kassandra told herself firmly, taking a deep breath as she regained control of her lungs. She is a threat, regardless of her talent. My father would do the same.
Refusing to examine that last thought too closely, part of her knowing that introspection would cause it to evaporate, she funneled her exhale into the mouthpiece, its answering vibration rumbling through her in a welcome homecoming. Thought took second place as music soared in her ears, quickening her blood.
With a deep, tolling note, the horn began to sound.