Chapter 7 – The Game Begins
Arching her back, Hermione felt her joints pop and gave a breath of relief. She had been powering through her seventh years' essays for the past four hours, and she was finally ready to call it a night. Thankfully, hardly anyone was awake at such a late hour, and she walked freely through the dimly lit corridors. No need to worry about students hailing her down to ask for an extension on an assignment or professors inviting her to a scholarly lunch date to discuss the latest research developments in their field (fascinating, yes, but not the most pressing matters at hand currently) or feeling the stares of Aurors watching her every move. The castle was quiet; dormant, almost.
The halls were more comforting than they had been weeks past, the familiar stones tugging comfort out of her. She faced her demons head on, never avoiding areas of the castle that held haunted memories. The faces of the fallen were a treasure to her; she constantly paused and interrupted the flow of traffic in the hallways when a memory struck, and she held onto those moments as though they were tendrils of the fallen souls. She didn't see their anguish – the pain, uncertainty, or fear in their final moments. Instead, she saw their lives, and every time she glimpsed these lives, she felt warmth. Peace.
She was no longer haunted by the war.
At least, unless you counted harsh, unexpected reminders of the war's tragedies, like Madame Rosmerta's untimely death and the circumstances surrounding it. Whenever such events happened – not often, thankfully – Hermione was always caught off guard. Unlike the meeting the other day, however, she knew where her ghosts lay in the castle and expected them. The castle's tragedies were the ones that she had grown accustomed.
It had been a gradual change, of course, and her students helped her look past the sorrow to find joy. They all reminded her of her own school days and the friends she made, experiences she had. In them, Hermione saw hope. Happiness. Love.
Smiling to herself, Hermione barely noticed the dancing shadows in front of her. She gave pause, assuming it was another memory fighting to the surface, only to find that none came. Puzzled, she hovered near a statue, squinting to try and see better in the darkness. When that failed, she grew frustrated, her tired brain and weary body screaming for a restful sleep. With a huff, she shuffled closer and resisted the urge to pull out her wand. As if I have reason to be paranoid…
But there was a murder case that had yet to be resolved.
Before Hermione could reach into her robes and grasp the familiar wood, however, something roughly grabbed her waistline and pulled her into the shadow of the statue. "Wh—"
A hand clamped over her mouth before Hermione could so much as squeak, and the woman was about to instinctively bite down on the assailant's fingers when a very distinct smell washed over her.
Peppermint.
Rather than bite her captor, she elbowed him in the side. That only made his arms tighten around her, and it took all she had not to stomp on his feet. What the hell is he playing at?! Her earlier frustration doubled as her body recognized another obstacle in the way of slumber. If she weren't cast in shadow, her glare would have been murderous.
"Stay quiet," a voice grumbled in her ear. "And stop fidgeting, will you? He'll run if he senses you."
Once Hermione stilled, the man released her, his deep chuckle sending shivers up her spine. "That wasn't so hard, was it, Granger?"
"What the hell are you doing, Draco? It's the middle of the night! Why are you slinking around in the dark?"
Draco seemed more amused than anything. "Well, well, looks like someone is in need of a cat nap." His gaze flickered from Hermione to the space ahead of them, and he spat out a muffled curse at what he saw. Or rather, what he didn't see. "The game begins," he murmured, stepping into the light. He didn't wait for Hermione to follow before quick-stepping after whomever he was stalking.
It was a split-second decision that Hermione made, and while her aching eyes heavily protested, her curiosity won the battle as she swiftly caught up to Draco and walked in-step with him. He barely paid her any mind, and she had to fight the prickle of annoyance that crept under her skin. It's not like he invited you along, she consoled herself, almost crashing into him as he came to an abrupt halt.
They had reached the moonlit courtyard, and Hermione scanned the area for flickers of movement. It seemed that Draco had done the same, only faster, and upon not noticing anything out of the ordinary, he strode into the night like a predator closing in on its prey.
Hermione paused at the stone archway connecting the castle to the courtyard and pursed her lips, unsure if she really wanted to rendezvous with a semi-stranger well past the stroke of midnight.
Draco turned and caught her eye then, holding her gaze for the briefest of moments before nonchalantly sliding his hands into his pockets, as though he had all the time in the world to wait for her decision.
Indignantly, Hermione raised her chin and marched forwards, refusing to let the crinkle of Draco's smirk deter her. If he wanted to challenge her sense of adventure, see if any of the youthful Hermione remained in her bones, then fine. She strode past him and across the cobbled courtyard with a fierce determination to set the record straight. Hermione Granger was not a frail creature hiding behind a desk, and it was about damned time the world – and more specifically, those poisoned with Ron's discontented rumors – remembered.
Once they reached the outskirts of the castle, they could clearly see a figure moving swiftly across the grounds. Her interest piqued, Hermione took a few steps forward before Draco held an arm out in front of her, giving her pause, and nodded in the direction the person was traveling.
The Whomping Willow.
Draco chose a more discreet path than the one their friend had taken and led Hermione through the grass and underbrush towards the towering tree. As they approached, Hermione could see its branches swaying menacingly, looking more like a phantom's conjured final defense rather than an age-old tree that enjoyed squashing anything that dared encroach on its territory.
The closer the pair came, the louder the tree's creaking branches became. A few heavy swats to the ground made the earth shake beneath Hermione's feet, and she sucked in a breath at a memory of crossing the tree during her third year as a student at Hogwarts. So long ago, she thought, the hairs on her arms rising. And under very different circumstances.
Draco didn't hesitate as he approached the wiggling tree, and Hermione feared that the man's drive made him reckless. "Draco!" she hissed, reaching out to pull him back out of the willow's range. Draco was quick, however, and easily skirted out of her grasp, flashing her a boyish grin over his shoulder. "C'mon, Hermione! Don't tell me you'll let a tree best you!" He dashed to the center of the trunk, leaping over a branch as it swiped at him, and deftly rolled to a stop right before the base of the tree. He tapped a knot in the trunk and stretched his arms over his head as though that were a warm-up routine.
Hermione covered the surprise etched on her face with a loud scoff, walking towards the tree warily. It had moved in slow-motion for a few seconds before coming to a complete stop, towering over her. "You're simply too gung-ho about this whole trip. If I didn't know better, I'd say that field work has gotten too boring for your tastes." Hermione paused as she reached Draco. "Exactly who is it we're after? I doubt you'd be chasing a student out after curfew," she snipped, crossing her arms.
The man's face fell then, and his excitement that had quickly bubbled to the surface faded into something Hermione couldn't place. He ran a hand through his ghostly-blonde hair, the moonlight giving him a more muted complexion than usual, and refused to meet her gaze. "Let's keep moving," he spoke softly, shuffling towards the secret passage on the other side of the tree.
Frowning, Hermione made a note to push the topic later. Besides, she may find out who they're following once they catch the person. The fact that Draco didn't wish to admit to her whom it was – perhaps he doesn't know who it is? – unsettled her. Or maybe it was my assumption of him that isn't to his liking?
The walk through the musky tunnel was silent, save for their footfalls. The air was thick, and the dirt clinging to the walls was surely going to end up in Hermione's hair; she just knew it.
The tension broke as they entered the Shrieking Shack, and she raked in a deep breath as though surfacing from the depths of the Black Lake after a lifetime of treading water. If Draco noticed her relief, he didn't let on.
The shack had wrinkled and sagged like a wizened man over the years, looking ancient despite only being a few decades old. Dust coated everything in sight, and the half-moon filtering through the cracks and holes in the building's structure made every surface it touched glow. The largest hole in the wall was about the size of a Quaffle and gave way to a perfect view of Hogsmeade nestled in the surrounding forest. Lights twinkled in the distance, and Hermione found herself pressing against the splintered wall to get a better look.
The wood groaned under her weight, and before Hermione realized what was happening, the sound of snapping boards engulfed her as she began tipping forwards. Within milliseconds, she was coated in dust, scrapes and wood splinters, and she held her breath for the inevitable freefall that was to come. The crash of the fallen wall hitting the ground was distant, and Hermione was surprised to be falling backwards rather than forwards. She flailed, trying to grasp onto something – anything – that would keep her from sliding off the dilapidated floors and tumbling down the steep drop to the spikes waiting below. Somehow she connected with something firm and managed to fling herself from the unstable area of the room, hitting the floor with a heavy thud.
For a moment, it took all Hermione had to breathe. She hadn't expected anything to happen; her guard was down, and it had been so long since she had to think about any kind of danger, it seemed almost foreign to her. It was like she was a beginner again, back in her schooling days. If it weren't for the adrenaline pumping through her veins, she would be furious with herself. As it was, however, her fury was delayed.
She calmed her breathing and allowed her brain to connect with her senses. She was incredibly warm somehow, despite the chill in the air, and although the fall was rough enough to warrant bruising, she felt little in the way of aches. What she did feel was something shifting beneath her, and her caramel eyes widened as she remembered something important.
She wasn't alone.
Hermione scrambled into a sitting position and jumped from a groan sounding very close by. Her eyes caught on Draco's fallen figure, partly covered by her ass on his thighs. She squeaked and scooted off of him, but as soon as she registered crimson dripping down the side of his face, she found herself sitting on her knees leaning over him to see the wound better. "You're injured," she breathed, gently titling his head away from her so the light would hit his injury better.
Draco was leaning up on his elbows, his white button-up shirt now smeared with dirt from the fall. A few wood chips were sprinkled in his hair and body, and he seemed oddly calm, given the circumstances.
Clicking her tongue, Hermione gently prodded the gash with her fingers before pursing her lips. "It's not too deep, but I'd rather we disinfect it before closing it with magic, and I didn't bring any ointments with me..." She brushed her fingers through Draco's hair to try and clear some of the drying blood from it, and she could have sworn that Draco's eyes had fluttered closed. She stopped her hand mid-stroke and bit her lip, letting her hand fall to her lap.
Draco's eyes snapped open and he turned his head towards Hermione. The woman's breath caught as a flicker of disappointment and something else she couldn't quite place flashed in his eyes. It was gone before she could process it, and Draco pushed himself to his feet. "Try to be more careful of your surroundings next time," he softly scolded, holding his hand out for Hermione to take.
She accepted his hand and hoisted herself up, offering a small smile in thanks. Draco's attention had already shifted, so her thanks went unseen. He slipped his hand from hers and took a few steps towards the missing wall, his entire focus aimed at whatever lingered outside.
"Draco," Hermione started, placing a hand on his arm. "I don't think the person is here or we would have seen—"
"They're out there," he muttered, gesturing to the whispering forest outside.
Blinking, Hermione tried to hide her surprise. "And they got past us? We weren't that far behind them."
Draco raised an eyebrow as he glanced at his companion. "I'm sure that commotion was enough for a giant to slip past unseen."
Hermione bristled but kept silent. He was right, she knew, but that didn't mean she had to verbally acknowledge the fact. Crossing her arms, she waited for Draco to speak. The gears were turning in his head, and she found her lips twitching in a half-smile when she heard him humming to himself.
"We need to get down there, and our best bet is to jump." Nodding as though pleased with himself, he turned to Hermione and smiled.
She couldn't help but notice that it didn't reach his eyes.
Holding out his hand, Draco motioned for Hermione to step closer. "I need you to hold onto me in order for the spell to work efficiently." He smiled again, and this time his eyes sparkled. "Unless you'd rather stay here and bring the whole building down."
He was teasing her. Again!
"As much as I'm sure you'd love to be rid of me, you're out of luck. In case this is a student breaking the rules, I need to be present. I doubt a Ministry official knows how to handle a student quite as well as that student's professor." Hermione took Draco's hand and tensed as he pulled her body flush against his, firmly wrapping his arm around her.
Draco chuckled, and Hermione could feel his chest rumble against her neck. The man had certainly grown taller over the years.
"Relax," he breathed, reaching into his pocket with the hand not melding their bodies together and pulled out his hand. With a flourish of his wrist, he muttered a brief incantation and a gust of wind spiraled around them.
Hermione's eyes widened as her robes billowed around her and her hair whipped at her face. She found herself clinging to Draco as she felt her feet leave the ground, and she even wrapped her legs around his calves, her arms holding a death hold around his neck. Flying was never her choice method of transportation, especially if it was from a spell she wasn't previously aware of.
The man merely wrapped his wand arm around her waist and moved his unoccupied arm across her back, the palm of his hand snaking its way into her soft curls. Hermione tried to take comfort in the strong hold he had on her, but she could only focus on waiting for the ground to be back under her feet.
They were gently lifted from the floorboards and hovered down the three-story drop, going slow enough that the sensation could be pleasant, but not nearly fast enough for Hermione. The wind licked her exposed skin, seeping into her clothes to taste the flesh there as well. It was far too close to winter to be flying, especially if it was the middle of the night.
It was over quickly, but Hermione felt as though she were still in the air, awaiting the certain plummet to her doom. She knew that Quidditch players often faced nasty falls, but there was a reason Hermione had never donned Quidditch gear and earned glory for her house.
Flying was unnatural. It defied the basic principles of being human; other creatures were born with wings. Humans? They had yet to sprout feathers and take to the skies, and Hermione was perfectly content staying out of the clouds. If whatever powers that be didn't intend for her to fly, she damned well wasn't going to test the waters and see if she could when it clearly wasn't written in the stars for her.
Some people, like Harry and Draco, seemed at ease in the air. All of their inhibitions floated away on the winds, and they were free.
Hermione could fly when the situation called for it, but she liked to keep her feet well-planted on the ground if she could help it.
The seconds ticked by as Draco waited for Hermione to release him. He had already loosened his hold on her, but he was gently smoothing the back of her hair in attempts to calm her. She was shaking, and he wasn't actually sure if she was aware of it or not.
After a few minutes, he felt her muscles relax and she slowly pulled away from him, sliding down until her feet hit the ground. She peered up at hi, her lips slightly parted as though she were waking from a dream.
It took all the restraint Draco had not to capture those plump lips in his.
She blinked and her gaze focused, her eyes widening as she realized the proximity between them. She disentangled herself from Draco and was intent on looking anywhere except at him, running her fingers through her mussed hair and patting down her pencil skirt as though it weren't flat enough as it was. "I-I'm sorry," she stammered, heat rushing to her cheeks. "I just—um—I'm not exactly the best flyer."
Draco gave a half-smile and shrugged in a noncommittal way. "I gathered that." He could have easily quipped about her reaction – said something sarcastic – tried to lighten the mood somehow. He didn't want to dwell on her discomfort, though, so he cleared his throat and nodded in the direction of the town. "Ladies first."
Hermione gratefully obliged, practically jogging ahead of him. They didn't speak, and Hermione felt that was worse than if they had awkward conversation. She briefly mused asking about what happened at the staff meeting – she hadn't seen much of him over the past few days, and she had never been alone with him – but she quickly dismissed the thought as her cheeks burned hotter. Later, she told herself. I'll ask him later. Much, much later.
The town came into sight after a short walk, but Hermione's adrenaline had faded and she was running on sheer willpower. Her body's aches from earlier came back tenfold, and she was dragging her feet in the most unbecoming way. I should just walk back up to the castle, she told herself, moaning softly as she rolled her shoulders backwards. I really need a nice, long, hot soak in the baths… She shivered and pulled her robes tighter around her. The temperature kept dropping, she was sure of it. Winter is approaching. I should invest in some thicker socks. Maybe a new pair of earmuffs and some mittens, too. Oh, and if they matched!
Hermione's ears perked up as she heard a door creak behind her, and she swiveled around to see Draco sneaking into The Three Broomsticks. "Draco!" she hissed, scurrying over to him as quietly as she could. "What are you doing?! There are wards against people going in there! It's a crime scene!"
Draco rolled his eyes and grabbed her hand, tugging her inside before softly clicking the door shut behind her. "Who the hell do you think I am? Not a Ministry investigator?" He scoffed and crossed his arms. "Who do you think helped arm the place? Weaselbee?"An unkind sneer rippled across his face, and Hermione felt shards of ice rip through her chest. Draco continued, "He couldn't cast a simple protection spell if his life depended on it." He had turned away from Hermione, lit the tip of his wand, and began scanning the room for anything out of place or suspicious.
Raking in a breath, Hermione dismissed Draco's words as best she could. She knew Ron wasn't the best spellcaster, but that didn't give Draco the right to belittle him. Ron had come a long way since the war, and Hermione used to help him with his spells late at night. She remembered many a time when he'd been so enthused by his progress that he swept her away in throes of passion, back in the beginnings of their marriage.
The ice inside Hermione spread like daggers, and she pressed her palm against the wall for support. She took shaky breaths until her mind cleared and pulled her wand out of its pocket. "Lumos," she whispered, squinting from the bright light igniting from her wand.
The Three Broomsticks looked the exact same as when Hermione last stood in the homey pub, minus the flow of customers. Not a single thing looked out of place, and Hermione quickly lost interest in combing the room for clues. She wanted to bring Rosmerta's killer to justice, of course, and she always loved a good mystery novel, but everything was a bit too real. This wasn't just a story – this was a life. A life taken. A life she had known for years. A person lost forever.
"What are we doing here?" she questioned softly, her gaze flickering to Draco. He was bent over a spot on the floor, brushing his fingertips over something Hermione couldn't see. Without looking her way, he responded, "I was hoping the killer would return to the scene of the crime." Standing, he moved towards the stairs leading to the second floor of the building. "Although it doesn't seem our little runner has been here tonight. Doesn't mean we shouldn't check the place out; see if we can find something the others missed." He pointed his wand at the stairs and swung his arm up, casting a light ball into the room above. He was headed up the stairs before Hermione could question him further.
Shivering, Hermione scuttled towards the window by the stairwell and peered into the night. Everything seemed so serene outside; it hardly looked like a town in distress. The soft light from the moon cascaded across the rooftops and could deceive people into thinking it was snow if they merely glanced.
A flash of light caught her eye, and Hermione pressed her face against the glass (quite the bad habit she was growing into, it seemed) and her breath hitched.
Green light, snaking up from a nearby rooftop, like poison smoke billowing into the air, paralyzed Hermione. She watched in horror as the smoke's outline focused into a skull, a snake winding its way from its open mouth.
Heavy footfalls to Hermione's right made the woman jump, and she turned just in time to see Draco come barreling down the stairs. He seemed so intent on moving that he nearly slammed into Hermione, but he swerved around her at the last possible second and bolted out the back door of the pub, his feet pounding through the streets as he raced towards the mark in the sky.
"D-Draco!" Hermione shrieked, bolting out the door after him. She couldn't let him go there alone; what if the killer was still there? What if he rushed into serious danger? What if he died?
Hermione's legs screamed in protest as she forced them to move, to run faster, to catch up to Draco, to make sure he wasn't cornered or hurt or worse. She was panting by the time she had fallen into a good pace, her legs finally growing accustomed to the movement, and she skidded to a halt just outside the house's tiny garden gate. She saw Draco's crop of blonde hair moving determinedly to the front door of the little house before her, and Hermione had to force herself to breathe for the hundredth time that night.
The Dark Mark loomed over her, taunting her, teasing her, telling her to run, to scream, to cower in fear and never leave the safety of her bed again. But she knew better than that; she had lived better than that.
Hermione Granger was no coward. She was a fighter, a lover, and the brightest witch of her age. A little smoke wasn't going to turn her away. Not today, not ever.
A fierce gleam entered her eye as she stalked after Draco, catching up to him in the blink of an eye. He hesitated when he felt her presence behind him, and she saw the concern pooling in his eyes when he glanced her way. He didn't stop her, though, so she followed him into the house.
It was pitch black, and they didn't dare light their wands when the killer could have been two feet from them, waiting for a reason to strike. Hermione breathed softly, comforted by the faint hint of peppermint in the air. Draco was close, and she felt reassured when his arm brushed hers. Neither of them was alone, and her gut told her that he was just as glad as she was about that.
The light pouring in from outside reminded Hermione of the Muggle alien movies where green light filtered outside of places with supernatural activity, except this time the light was filtering in. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, Hermione could have sworn that she saw movement across the room. She felt Draco tense more than she saw him do so, and it was clear that he had seen it, too.
Hermione's heart hammered in her chest as she lifted her wand, a dozen defensive spells waiting on her lips. Draco stopped, and Hermione stood beside him. Both were facing the area where the movement had come from, and both seemed to freeze in their tracks. Something wasn't right. Why would the killer still be in the building? Wouldn't they run as soon as the curse was cast? What if they were waiting for something?
But what?
The frozen hourglass tipped as the screech of a spell and a blinding flash of red light caught the pair off guard, and Hermione's spells died in her mouth.
Standing before them was a face neither of them could ever forget; a face they should never have had to see again except in the blackest of nightmares when the dreamer awoke only to realize they were in a deeper level of the nightmare, one where the terror was real.
Something in Draco seemed to snap, and he crumbled to the ground on his knees, his gasping breath jerking Hermione into action. The assailant had vanished, and Hermione forced herself to believe that they weren't coming back, not tonight.
She rushed to Draco's side and lay him down, fumbling with a light spell. After her third cast, it stuck and the room was illuminated with soft white rather than the hazy, sickly green. She saw a thick blossom of crimson bursting from Draco's torso, and she choked on what little oxygen she could grasp. The look in his molten silver eyes was hollow; empty.
Hermione's voice cracked as she swept over Draco, her hands moving to hover over his chest. She spoke an incantation and her hands quivered, but she couldn't look at the red staining his skin, couldn't fathom the stillness of his body, couldn't believe the lost look in his eyes.
"Goddammit, Draco!" she spat, the chill in her bones forcing her body to go numb. "You can't do this! You can't just leave me here to face this alone! I won't forgive you; I won't let you!" Her wand glowed brighter, the light morphing from a sky blue to a deep navy as the glow loosely spiraled out in tendrils that broke off and floated down to kiss Draco's skin. Hermione felt tears well in her eyes, but she refused to shut them. She wouldn't close out her feelings – the panic and despair. She wouldn't block out Draco, not when she might be the last living thing his life touched.
Her spell faded until only the light from her Lumos Maxima remained, a tiny light hovering at the center of the room. Hermione took shallow breaths, bunching her skirt in her fists. It couldn't end like this – it couldn't happen like this – everything was so wrong, so wrong –
Draco finally blinked and he took a guttural breath, his chest heaving from the effort. His shirt was stained a deep red and his complexion was ghastly, but his eyes were the first thing to really awaken. He managed to shakily rise onto his elbows, his breaths now shallow, and he winced from a deep pain racking his body. He didn't seem to notice his soiled shirt, or maybe he decided not to care. It was strange to Hermione when he traded looking at his wound (that Hermione wasn't even sure she had healed, honestly, since she has been acting on pure instinct and adrenaline) for something a lot more human.
He embraced her.
Gingerly, he reached out and took Hermione's hand in his and tugged her towards him. She hadn't been expecting the action, nor was she really well-equipped to steady herself at the moment, so she practically tackled the man. He sat up fully and held Hermione, but it was different than when he held onto her at the Shrieking Shack or when he had kept her still in the hall at Hogwarts. He held get tenderly, as though she were just as fragile as he was, and Hermione folded into his arms. Were he not injured, Hermione got the impression that he would have gently rocked her and smoothed her hair.
Nevertheless, it wasn't something he did simply to soothe her. She could feel it. He needed this – whatever this was – just as much as she did, if not more so. She was rattled beyond belief, but he was trembling. Hermione grasped at his shoulders, burying her face in his neck, devouring the calming peppermint scent that seemed to be his trademark. She took deep breaths, and his short ones soon matched her own, and the two breathed as one.
They sat in silence, their state too fragile for words.
It was an eternity before someone arrived.
Hermione recognized the face of one of the Aurors currently invading the castle, but after he checked that Hermione and Draco weren't in peril danger, he and two others searched the building. The body of the victim was found, and soon the entire area was roped off as a crime scene.
Hermione wasn't sure when she had stood, nor when Draco and she had stumbled out into the breaking sunlight. All she knew was the face searing into her mind, and when her eyes met Draco's, he looked as haunted as she. They stared at one another, both seeing the world awaken around them and unseeing everything as an image pierced their minds, breaking the composure they had worked to build over the past ten years after the war.
She was back. Hermione didn't know how it was possible, nor did she care at that exact moment.
The manic face that had played puppet master in her dreams had breached the wall and crawled into reality. Her reality. Their reality.
Draco and Hermione shared a dark look, and they knew that the game had just begun. The chessboard had been set, and the players were being revealed.
Piece number one on the opponent's board?
Bellatrix LeStrange.
Author's Note:
Hey, guys! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! I ended it a bit differently than I intended, but that's okay! I can start the next chapter right where I left off ;) As always, in case anything is unclear, please message me and I'll try to clarify what I can without revealing too much! Thank you so much for reading!