Chapter 9: Impractical Magics

Grindelverse

"You were saying?" Tom prompted, and Hermione blinked forcefully back to cognizance.

"Right," she said, swallowing, as across from her, Remus made a somewhat pursed expression of impatience. "Right, so, the thing I need. It's—" Her mind whirled. "It's very important. I need you to find it for me, and—"

"You're English," Tom interrupted. A statement of fact; an observation, but certainly not a question. She frowned, and then nodded.

"Yes, I'm from—"

"And you're young, too," Tom noted, tilting his head slightly. "Aren't you?"

"I—" She paused. "Sorry, what?"

"What are you getting at?" Draco cautioned sharply, leaning forward. In the same motion, Remus pointedly cracked his knuckles, giving Draco a glance that would have warned him to stay back without any help from the rest of his less-than-covert motions.

Tom, meanwhile, held up a hand for silence, not taking his eyes from Hermione's.

"You can leave," he said.

"I'm not leaving," Remus growled.

"I was talking to the disruptive blond," Tom informed him coolly, "but if you're going to be so primitive, Remus, perhaps it'd be better if you simply escorted him out."

"I'm not going anywhere," Draco said, lifting his chin, and internally, Hermione sighed. Even if Draco were to try to use an alias, it was still painfully clear he was valuable; who other than a consummate pureblood would be so defiant in a place like this? "If you have something to say to her," Draco insisted unhelpfully, "you can say it to me."

"Wrong," Tom said, unmoving. "Remus?"

Remus rose to his feet, rolling his eyes, and came around the sofa to grab Draco by the collar. Draco let out a yelp of opposition, drilling an elbow into Remus' side (the werewolf, of course, didn't flinch) and reaching for his wand, but Tom held up a single finger, slowly fixing him with an eerily impassive glance.

"Ten minutes," Tom said. "Ten minutes alone, and I give you my word: she will be in precisely the condition you left her."

Draco gritted his teeth, glancing at Hermione, who grimaced. Clearly there was something Tom wanted to say to her in private; as much as she didn't want to be alone with him, it was obvious nothing was going to be said at all if his conditions for privacy remained unmet. Slowly, she permitted a brief nod, and Draco's mouth tightened, but he relented.

"Tell your lackey to get his hands off me, then," he informed Tom, with a requisite curtness borne from years of entitlement. "I can walk myself."

Tom permitted a careless flutter of his fingers in acknowledgement. "You heard him," he said to Remus, who sighed, evidently disappointed. He released Draco, half-tossing him back to the ground, and then gruffly gestured forward with his chin.

"Walk, then," instructed Remus.

"Into what?" Draco demanded, gesturing to the solid wall of tapestries. "A coma?"

Tom waved a hand. Instantly, the wall shimmered, becoming a gauzy curtain he drew aside from afar like a gossamer wing, revealing a corridor with a set of winding stairs behind it. Remus gave a loud, unsubtle throat cough and Draco stepped forward with a glare at each of them, softening only marginally to give Hermione a look that said something along the lines of I'll be right here.

She doubted he could be much help either way. The wall sealed back into solid form the moment he'd disappeared through it, Remus trailing at his heels with a last fleeting 'this is very irritating, you know, and I'm quite frankly not thrilled' glance at his ostensible employer.

The moment they were gone, Tom turned to Hermione with a curious glance, more thoughtfully scrutinizing than threatening. Still, it was enough to send a discomfiting shiver up her spine.

"I know the stone you're looking for," Tom said simply. "It's not for sale."

She arched a brow. "You sent them away just to tell me I can't have it?"

"I said it's not for sale," Tom clarified. "However, I'm willing to trade." He leaned back in the chair, drawing a hand thoughtfully to his mouth. "How badly do you want it?"

She grimaced. "How much are you wanting to trade?"

For a moment, he stared at her; she felt a tap-tap-tapping in her brain and blinked once, twice, and glared.

"If you have things you want to know, just ask," she said impatiently, wishing now she'd thought to make Harry teach her occlumency. He wouldn't have managed it himself, of course, but still, she hardly required much help to learn. "I thought you had a thing for trust."

Tom shrugged. "Very well. How well do you know the layout of Hogwarts?"

She blinked, startled, then hesitated. "I, um—"

"I won't ask you how you know what you know," he assured her, waving a hand. "I hardly care how anyone comes by their information. I'm an ends-justify-the-means type," he clarified, smiling grimly. "My concern is outcomes, not methods."

Fine. "Then I know the castle very well."

"Very well?" he echoed doubtfully, passing a hand over his chin. "How well do you know the seventh floor?"

She suffered a jolt of recognition. "You're talking about the Room of Requirement?"

"I'm not talking about anything," he reminded her. "I'm merely asking questions."

"What is it you want, exactly?" she said, shifting in her seat. "Why does it matter how well I know Hogwarts?"

Tom opened his mouth, considering his options, then closed it.

"I need something there," he eventually said, "but it's very difficult to get into the castle. Remus certainly isn't allowed," he remarked with a laugh, gesturing to where the werewolf had been, "and more importantly, I need someone who knows the layout well enough to follow instructions. It's a tricky place. There are obstacles there someone unfamiliar with the castle's oddities wouldn't be able to navigate."

Like ghosts and trick stairwells, Hermione thought, and in the same moment, Tom smiled. She realized with a lurch that they had both gone to the same school; had probably both loved it, in some similar but vastly different way, and both felt attached to the castle and everything inside it. It was enough to give her a squirming sense of displeasure, even as she felt oddly soothed by the prospect of going back. At least it would be something familiar.

"Why doesn't Remus know the layout?" Hermione asked.

It may have been a slip. Tom's brow creased slightly.

"Remus did not attend Hogwarts," he said, and she realized the error had been in not already guessing as much. "Creatures are not permitted magical educations. I found him, wandering by himself, when he was a boy. Trained him."

"The runes on his fingers," Hermione registered slowly. "Yours?"

"Ancient runes, hardly my invention. But my design, yes," Tom confirmed. "They're to ease the pain when he turns. And to control his impulses between full moons."

It was difficult to not be a little impressed, and a little infuriated. If only the Tom Riddle in her universe had put his ingenuity to use for something other than genocide.

"You talk about Remus like he's your pet," she noted with displeasure, and Tom smiled thinly.

"Better to have a pet than to be one," he said, letting his attention flick to where Draco had been.

I'm not a pet, she wanted to argue, but doubted anything she said would help the situation. Instead she sat a little straighter, channeling a bit of Draco's absurdly-present certainty to fix Tom with the firmest glare she could muster.

"So what are you offering?" she asked.

"You can have the stone you're looking for," he said, "if you retrieve something for me first."

"How do I know you actually have the stone?" she said; a challenge.

In answer, he drew a hand up to his chin; dragged his right pinky with painfully marked deliberation across his mouth, permitting his smile to broaden. Even in the dimness of the room, the signet ring flashed from the light of the fire beside him, and it was impossible to mistake the motion for anything less than wholly purposeful.

Of course, all he actually said was, "I suppose you'll just have to trust me," while looking blissfully amused.

Clearly there was no out-guiling him. She opted not to bother trying. "What do I have to get?"

At that, Tom Riddle shifted forward, reaching into his pocket. He conjured a narrow slip of nothing, withdrawing it from his jacket, and transfigured a voluminous quill from thin air before twisting his fingers, alighting the implement in the air between them. The quill scribbled something unintelligible, golden shapes mixing and rearranging to create something thoroughly illegible from her vantage point, and then condensed, melting slightly and smoothing over into a flatter, oval shape.

The words, whatever they had been, gradually transformed themselves into a faceless pendant, a chain sprouting free like a pair of dragonfly wings before dropping suddenly to land (much to Hermione's dismay) in her hastily-outstretched palm.

She looked down at the pendant, breathless and confused. It was stunningly impressive magic, both too-real and thoroughly impossible; thin and delicate, like some sort of fairy-gold. She looked over it, contemplating the retrieval of its contents, when she realized that although there was a small hinge, the pendant lacked a crevice by which to pry it open.

"Get into the castle," Tom explained, watching her attention linger curiously over the edge of it. "Once you're inside, it will open, and you'll receive the rest of my instructions."

Her hand tightened around the pendant. "And what am I supposed to do if I get caught?"

"That's not my problem," he told her smoothly, pairing apathy with an evasive shrug. "If you want the stone, I'll need the payment in question delivered to me. I will accept no other price, so my advice would be to simply—" He waved a hand, half-smiling. "Not make mistakes."

An immensely helpful response.

"Well, if you're willing to part with the stone," Hermione postured carefully, the pendant still gleaming in her palm, "I doubt it's worth all this effort."

"It may have little value to me," Tom said, sounding as if he disapproved of her conclusion, "but it obviously holds great value to you. I recognize treasure when I see it."

To that, she fought a shiver.

"Fine," she said eventually, conceding to tuck the pendant away. "I'll get you what you want, then, even if it does seem like a hugely unequal trade."

"Well, there's also the value of a secret," Tom reminded her. "In addition to the stone, I will helpfully keep it to myself that a witch who shouldn't be a witch came into my shop with the Malfoy heir," he mused, delivering her to yet another grimace, "which is certainly valuable enough for me to set any price I wish."

"Do you know who I am?" she asked, caught somewhere between curiosity and dread.

"No," Tom said, "but I do know when a thing does not belong."

She opened her mouth, about to ask more questions, when there was a loud slam against the wall. Tom sighed, rolling his eyes, and waved a hand, pulling back the gossamer curtain again as Draco stumbled into the room, nearly falling onto his hands and knees from where he'd been leaning against the wall.

"Ten minutes," he said in explanation, his grey gaze immediately surveying Hermione for signs of damage as he straightened.

"Ah," said Tom. "Well, a deal is a deal."

"It certainly is," Draco said gruffly, dusting himself off.

Remus, meanwhile, sauntered in behind Draco, pausing just after the wall had resumed its existence as a wall.

"Well?" was Remus' impatient opening as Draco strode to Hermione's side, briefly taking hold of the tips of her fingers. She permitted his touch, nodding to him, even as the pendant in her pocket seemed to burn a hole through her robes. I'm fine, she thought, but also, something terrible has happened, and I haven't the slightest idea what it is.

"Miss Clearwater and I came to an agreement," Tom informed Remus, rising to his feet. "I expect we'll both be satisfied, assuming all expectations are met."

"Oh," Remus said, looking disappointed again. "So you don't need me for anything?"

"Actually, I'm sure you can be of some use, Remus," Tom assured him. "I expect our friends Sir Anonymous and Lady Lies will need something of an escort to Hogwarts. Don't you think?"

"Hogwarts?" Draco echoed, turning abruptly to glance at Hermione. "What?"

She shook her head. Not now, she warned, and his eyes narrowed with suspicion, but he ultimately nodded slowly, turning back to Tom.

"Fine. But I hardly think we need some sort of grouchy werewolf escort," Draco informed him. "Whatever it is you need from us, I'm sure we can manage on our own."

"Grouchy, really?" Tom echoed, arching a brow at Remus. "And here I specifically asked for the height of cordiality when dealing with clients."

"I tried," Remus drawled, and Hermione took hold of Draco's arm, pulling him to his feet.

"We'll be back with… the item," she said to Tom, and then frowned, suddenly registering an entirely new sense of unease. "It is an item, isn't it?"

He gave something of an airy shrug in answer.

"Fine," Hermione growled, fingers tightening again around the locket. "Come on," she said to Draco, pulling him towards the door, but just before she reached the knob, Tom paused her with the subtle sound of a low, almost indiscernible cough.

"For next time," he suggested as she stopped, fingers rigid on the door handle. "If you'd like to continue the use of an alias. Might I suggest Lily?"

Both Hermione and Draco froze, turning slowly to look at him.

"I like the name," Tom said, shrugging, as Remus made a face, apparently uninterested in his employer's requests.

"Right," Hermione said, with a slow, cautious nod.

Then she took Draco's arm and dragged him to the door, not stopping until it had closed firmly behind them.

"We have to go to Hogwarts," she said the moment they were outside, leading him well away from the snake-and-skull door knocker. "That ring he's got on? It has the resurrection stone in it. I'm sure of it."

Draco balked. "What? But what does that have to do with Hogwarts?"

"It's tit-for-tat, Draco," she told him, and he grimaced. "There's something he wants. I don't know what it is," she admitted, "but he definitely knows what the stone is, and probably what it does. I assume he simply has no use for it, seeing as I doubt he has any interest in speaking to the dead, and I suppose he must not know it's one of the Hallows—"

"Or," Draco postured slowly, "maybe he simply thinks he can get it back when we've brought him whatever it is he wants."

Hermione remembered, then, just who she was dealing with. This was a version of Draco Malfoy who knew what it was to consider the possibility of double-crossing. This was a Draco Malfoy who had killed a man before, and was certainly ready and willing to kill at least one other.

She shivered.

"Maybe," was all she could manage.

He tilted her chin up; sparing her something of a reassuring glance, or something which aimed to be. "I won't let him, of course," he told her. "We won't."

She let her gaze cut to the floor. "It doesn't matter. If you want it—"

"Me?" he echoed, catching the avoidance in her tone. "Are you no longer willing to be part of this?"

"I—" She didn't, of course. She never had. But on the other hand, if the stone existed—which Dumbledore surely thought it had—then maybe the Hallows were real, and if they were… that was quite another consideration. "I don't know."

He seemed to find this unsatisfying, letting out a small sigh and pulling her closer.

"Tell me," he murmured to her, lips brushing briefly over the bone of her cheek, "since you know him so well—what could he have asked you to find that's so precious to him?"

"I don't know," she replied, and she didn't. "The only thing he cares about aside from immortality is Hogwarts, really; it's why he—"

She broke off, running through the familiar stories from Harry and recounting the details of the memories he'd seen in her head. Slytherin's locket. Hufflepuff's cup. There's something there, she thought. There was something at Hogwarts, and if Tom Riddle wanted it, then anyone who wanted Tom Riddle dead would likely want it, too.

"We have to go to Hogwarts," she determined after a moment, looking up at him. "Hogwarts to get the Hallows, and then Grindelwald. That's the deal. If you want my help," she exhaled in clarification, "then that's the deal."

Draco hummed thoughtfully. "Well, Harry won't like it."

At that, Hermione pulled away, irritated. "Look, if you want to get the stone, then—"

"Harry won't like it," he amended, pulling her back into his arms and holding her against his chest, "but I don't give a damn." He lifted her chin again, meeting her eye. "You say Hogwarts, Hermione Granger," he murmured, "and I say 'when'?"

She swallowed.

The sooner she could be away from him, the better. Being in his arms seemed to do fuzzy, inhospitable things to her brain.

"Tomorrow," Hermione said decisively.

Draco's lips curled into a shallow arch of temptation; ripe with promise, syrupy-slow.

"Yes, dear," he murmured, bending his head down to hers.


Potterverse

By the time they reached Hogsmeade, it was fairly clear Hermione did not care for brooms. Some things, it seemed, carried through all universes, and Ron was extremely sympathetic, checking in regularly in a way that suggested he'd known as much already. For a moment, Draco thought about the Hermione Granger he had known—and whom Ron had clearly had something with—and felt a pang of guilt, wondering what she was doing in some universe parallel to his.

Not that he had much time to worry about it.

"There's a caterwauling charm," Theo was calling to Harry from where they'd paused in the clouds, and Draco suffered a momentary wave of nausea worse than Hermione's, having nearly forgotten about the extra protections in Hogsmeade. "Sets off an alarm when people are in the street after curfew."

"Hardly curfew, isn't it?" Harry said, shielding his eyes from the sun overhead.

Theo shrugged. "I don't know exactly how it works. I just know there's some sort of surveillance."

"Is it only against apparation?" Ron asked apprehensively. "Or brooms, too?"

"Again," Theo said impatiently, "I don't know how it works, having not been the person to personally enchant it—"

"Well, we can't get directly to the castle," Harry cut in. "The wards prevent anyone from flying in."

"How far do those wards extend?" Ron asked.

"Pretty far," Draco supplied, knowing that much for certain. His father had been a school governor, after all; Draco had seen more maps of the enchantments than he cared to list, and had listened to Lucius drone on about the politics involved in changing them at constant intervals throughout his schooling. "Not a lot of vacancies in them, either."

"Does the map show them?" Ron asked, which seemed an idiotic question to Draco, but Harry shook his head.

"I doubt the Marauders thought to consider protective enchantments," he replied.

Hermione, who was still woozily floating beside Draco, nudged him. "What's that?" she asked at a murmur, pointing, and Draco turned.

"The lake," he said under his breath.

She arched a brow.

Abruptly, his stomach sank. "No."

She arched both brows.

"No," he growled, decisively.

"Okay, but," she began, as Harry turned around, watching them argue in mutters, "what about yes?"

"There's creatures," Draco hissed through his teeth. "Things that live in the lake."

"And?" was her inane response.

"What've you got, Hermione?" Harry asked her loudly.

"Nothing," Draco insisted, but it was too late. Hermione kicked herself forward, sidling unsteadily beside Harry.

"We could land in the lake," she suggested, pointing. "I mean sure, creatures and whatever, but nobody would know we were there, right? I mean, after all," she added, turning over her shoulder to offer Draco a horrifyingly taunting smirk, "who would be mad enough to fly directly into a giant lake?"

"I don't know about that idea," Ron said, looking squirmily pale.

"Oh, I hate it," Theo replied. "But, that being said, it could technically work."

"It wouldn't set off any charms?" Harry asked, glancing between Theo and Draco.

"Well—" Draco hesitated. He'd never heard of anyone trying to get into Hogwarts via the lake, that much was true. It was cold, firstly, and rarely anyone ventured into it to begin with. If someone were to try to swim to the castle, they could very well get pneumonia and die before they ever arrived.

He withered internally. Was that sort of death better or worse than one by Death Eater?

"The Hogsmeade caterwauling charm wouldn't apply," Theo inserted in Draco's pause, and Draco shook his head in agreement. "There might be wards, but I don't think they extend that far."

"They don't," Draco confirmed. "They cover the physical castle and all of the entrances. But that does mean we'd still have to get inside," he reminded them brusquely, "which we won't be able to do from the lake—"

"Or," Harry interrupted, "could we?"

Draco waited for him to make sense.

And waited.

And waited.

"Potter, you monstrous fucking buffoon," Theo growled eventually, "what the fuck does that mean?"

"The Slytherin dorms are below the lake," Harry said. "Aren't they?"

Draco shook his head, groaning. "You're not supposed to know that."

"And yet, here we are," Harry replied drily. "It's just glass, isn't it? Below the lake?"

"Wait a minute," Ron cut in, frowning as he registered Harry's intent. "Are you suggesting—"

"Jesus fuck," Theo said. "Jesus H. Salazar Fuck."

"Well, we already blew up a train station," was Harry's abominable reply, and to everyone's immense alarm, Hermione giggled, and then laughed, and before long both she and Harry were positively silly with peals of madness, the remaining three exchanging worried glances in advance of their inevitable deaths.

"Now you want to blow up the Slytherin common room?" Draco asked them, disbelieving. "But—but what if there's—"

"Students? There aren't," Harry reminded him, as Hermione nodded, still swiping at streaming tears from their joint venture into hysteria. "The castle's basically empty except for staff, and we'll be able to see if there's anyone inside—"

"But still," Theo barked. "You can't just explode the base of a castle! Do you not understand how architecture works?"

Harry gave a shrug that seemed to say we'll figure it out when we get there, which was wholly unacceptable in Draco's view. "Castle's designed to survive, isn't it? Seems like we should be able to sort it out," he said, and Theo frowned in thought. "Besides, what other option is there?"

"Potter, what sort of hellscape do you think this is?" Draco demanded. "What is this, intellectual anarchy? A free-flowing nightmare descent into every bad idea that pops into your insipid little brain? You can let some of them go, you know—"

"Well, but hold on," Theo said, abruptly startling Draco. It seemed he, quite unhelpfully, had been successfully swayed by little more than a scar-headed lunatic's baseless confidence. "I mean, granted, this isn't exactly the dystopia I signed up for—"

"Good to know," muttered Ron.

"—but obviously it hasn't been doing us any good to let things like rules of physics and/or magic get in the way, so why not simply let chaos reign?" Theo shrugged. "At the very least, nobody will see it coming."

"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition," Hermione contributed, ducking her head with a cheeky grin as Draco glared at her. "Our chief weapon is surprise," she added innocently, "and ruthless efficiency. Also, I want to get off this broom."

"Ron?" Harry asked him, as Ron blinked vacuously in response, startled by being addressed. "I mean, Hermione's in," Harry pointed out, which was, yet again, a truly meritless claim, and Draco waited (perhaps too optimistically) for Ron to disagree.

Unfortunately, that wasn't to be. "I—" Ron said, and faltered. He was clearly unaccustomed to being the voice of reason, being ostensibly uninformed about useful phrases like 'no' or 'don't be stupid' or 'it could get us killed,' or perhaps simply lacked proficiency with any conceivable words. "Well, um. I mean—"

"Nobody has any better ideas," Theo pointed out again, as Draco realized with a clang of alarm he was now the only person taking a defensive stance in the war on insanity.

"SURELY someone has a better idea," Draco said desperately. "Anyone?"

They stared blankly at him.

"Jesus H. Salazar Fuck," he registered glumly, as Harry grinned, turning his broom towards the lake and beckoning the others after him.

"We'll need to use a bubble-head charm, or else transfiguration," Harry was saying, consulting Hermione on the matter as they shot out towards the water. "Right? I mean, who knows how long it's going to take to actually swim up under the castle—"

"Bubble-head charm," Theo supplied quickly, pulling up on Harry's left. "Ebublio, right?" he added loudly for Hermione's benefit. "Incantation's easy enough," he mused, mimicking the shape of a bubble in front of his face. "Lower risk than Weasley mucking up transfiguration, eh?"

Draco exhaled, grateful now he'd chosen to tell Theo the truth despite Ron's obvious distaste for the comment.

"There's still going to be swimming involved, Nott," Ron muttered to him. "Sure you can manage it with those scrawny limbs?"

"Scrawny? Weasley, I'm aerodynamic," Theo replied, as Hermione slowed, pausing beside Draco.

"Can you swim?" she asked him quietly.

"Of course I can," he scoffed, and for some terrible reason, she softened.

"It's not hard," she assured him. "The breathing is the hardest part, really, and that's covered by this bubble spell, isn't it?"

"I said I can," Draco snapped, bristling, and she shook her head.

"I don't see the point in lying," she pointed out, as he conceded with a disgruntled groan.

"I can," he said again, "I just—I don't like to. I don't have much practice." He stiffened. "Open water is invasive. And usually filthy."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, if you're going to be such a snot about it—"

"I just—" He grimaced. "In my defense, a death-defying crash into a creature-infested lake is extremely not a situation I hoped to find myself in, aquatic affinities or not—"

She reached out, brushing his hand with hers.

"It'll be okay," she assured him quietly, which was both an outrageous thing to say and a relatively tender one, given that she was the one so far out of her element. "I'll be right here," she said soothingly, "I promise, so just—"

But Draco caught the motion of Ron turning over his shoulder and snatched his hand back, giving her a warning glare.

"I'm fine," he said pointedly, and Ron frowned, obviously suspicious, but turned back to follow Harry, who was beginning a broad sweep across the lake. Draco glanced again at Hermione, who gave him a brief roll of her eyes. "What? You know we can't—"

"Just don't drown, Draco Malfoy," she suggested, half-smiling, and then sped up, catching up to Harry as he picked a spot to hover above the lake.

"Okay, so we jump," Harry said, "swim to the Slytherin common room, which is—" He shielded his eyes, pointing. "There? Approximately?"

"What exactly were you doing in our common room?" Theo drawled. "Is Gryffindor really that subpar?"

For a moment, Harry said nothing, merely shrugging and conjuring the bubble-head charm around his mouth. "Certainly no competition when we're done," he said, the sound muffled by the charm, and then, without warning, he rolled sideways from his broom, diving without hesitation into the water below.

"What a theatrical idiot," Theo said, securing his own charm before grunting his disapproval and diving in after Harry. Beside him, Ron heaved a great sigh, conjuring his own charm and flinging one leg over the broom. He collected his limbs into something of a loose cannonball and then dropped into the water below.

Hermione frowned, aiming her wand at her face. "Ebublio," she said, and jumped slightly as the charm fit itself to her mouth. "Oh, look," she warbled excitedly, gesturing to it, and as Draco forced a nod in approval, she prepared to jump, shifting on the broom just as the others began to break through the surface one by one.

"Wait—" Draco said, one hand desperately shooting out, and she paused, turning to look at him. He swallowed hard, staring down at the water below. "I don't—I'm not sure I can—"

She turned towards him, stroking her thumb across his cheek, and aimed her wand at his face. "Ebublio," she said again, a veritable expert by her second try. As the charm settled over his mouth, Draco inhaled deeply, exhaling with a shaky lack of certainty he rather wished nobody would have been able to witness; especially not her.

Still, he was grateful when she offered him her hand. "Come on," she said, and despite the humiliation, despite the fear and the surely disgusting crash that awaited them below, he put his hand in hers, letting the other loosen gradually from the broom.

She smiled, and gave his arm a tug—

And then he was falling, the air in his lungs rising up to catch in his throat and expelling from his teeth in something of a muffled scream, legs kicking out underneath him. One arm flailed mid-air as the other clung steadily to Hermione's hand, and they hit the water (the face of which had luckily been disrupted by Harry, Theo, and Ron before them) with a crash only to be parted by the impact, her hand slipping from his and leaving him to glance around with dismay, submerged well beneath the surface.

For a moment (a few moments), he was caught up in panic. The lake water was murky and difficult to see through, and even with the oxygen supplied by the bubble-head charm, Draco was close to hyperventilation, unable to see much in front of him and absolutely certain at any given moment he'd be swallowed up by the giant squid, or get his legs stolen by some sort of crafty mermaid thief. He felt a hand on his shoulder and stifled a scream, but found himself being steadily pulled along by Hermione, who was pointing ahead to where Harry, Ron, and Theo were already swimming towards the castle.

Draco nodded, following her lead with relief, and managed to get himself moving, still glancing apprehensively around the contents of the lake. He couldn't see beneath him; could barely see above him, either, and forced himself to keep his attention on Theo in front of him, who glanced over his shoulder, sparing Draco something of a reassuring nod. Eventually, Draco and Hermione caught up to the others, and after his eyes adjusted to the lack of light beneath the lake, the base of the castle beginning to loom in the distance from where they'd dropped.

It was several minutes of uninterrupted swimming. Every now and then Draco caught glimpses of something, little shadows that darted around like fish or other scale-covered nightmares, but in general it was eerily quiet, all of them falling into the rhythm of blindly forging ahead. Eventually, Draco breathed a sigh of relief as the glass of the Slytherin common room came into view; it flashed with warmth, even underwater, and from where they were, he recognized the familiar flickering of the fireplace, beckoning them forward.

Abruptly, though, Harry came to a halt, shoving a hand out and smacking it into Theo's abdomen as they all reared up in pause, blocked by something.

It was a mermaid, Draco realized, his hand shooting out for Hermione's, who in turn gripped his fingers tightly. He'd never encountered one in person; this one had grayish skin and long, wild, dark green hair. A large spear was gripped tightly in its hands, broken teeth bared warningly as it aimed the edge directly at Harry's chest.

Slowly, more began to emerge; their flashing tails made them effortless swimmers, of course, and before Draco or the others could move, several merfolk had emerged to surround them, all aiming dangerously sharp-tipped spears and daring them to try anything.

"Wait," Theo was appearing to say, as Draco held his breath, inching away from the one on his right as Hermione's iron grip tightened painfully on his fingers, "this is him, this is Harry Potter, the Chosen One—"

The chief mermaid frowned; suspicious, but not disinterested.

"We have to get to the castle. We're trying to kill him," Theo continued, the sound muffled frothily by the motion of the water. "Him. You know, him?" He gestured upwards. "I'm going to guess you lot don't really want him for an overlord, either."

At that, the mermaid glanced at the others, apparently in agreement.

"Let us go," Theo offered, "and we'll kill him for you. For all of us. Pinky promise." He held up a pinky, and Draco sighed internally, shaking his head. "Sound good?"

The mermaid eyed Theo's finger, contemplating it, and then took hold of it, giving it a small shake.

"Close enough," Theo said spiritedly, as the mermaids on either side of them slowly lowered their spears. "So you'll let us pass?"

The mermaid who appeared to be the chief nodded, slowly falling with the motion of the lake. Gradually, the other mermaids permitted themselves to plummet out of sight as well, disappearing into the shadows of the depths.

"Well," Theo said, glancing triumphantly at the others. "Shall we?"

Hermione exhaled, releasing Draco's pained fingers, and urged him forward. He went, obviously, hurrying in her wake; it wasn't as if he needed a reason to hang back, in case the mermaids changed their mind.

Harry was the first to reach the common room's windows. He withdrew his wand from where he'd secured it in what looked like his belt loop, aiming it at the glass. "Confringo," he said.

They waited.

Nothing.

"Expulso," Theo attempted.

Harry and Ron, in a show of obvious habit, turned to Hermione.

"Confringo," she said, clearly hoping it would have the same effect as her efforts on the train.

Nothing.

"Shit," Harry exhaled. "I really thought that would work."

Theo aimed another blasting curse; another.

"The glass must be protected," he said, and Draco sighed, feeling Hermione reach for his hand again.

"It's fine," he said, turning to assure her, and then jumped, startled to find the thing in his hand was not Hermione (was not even not-Hermione), and was, in fact, the careful brush of a very large, very insistent tentacle, which was gradually rising to wrap itself around his calf. "Oh, fuck—"

"Oh, an actual giant squid," Hermione said faintly, as Draco launched into full panic, trying to squirm out of reach as the squid's tentacle slid up to his thigh, giving him a tug down towards it.

"SHIT SHIT SHIT," said Draco, hurrying to aim a stunning spell at the tentacle, but that seemed to do little more than annoy it. Its great eyes, as wide as the windows in the Great Hall, gave him something of a moodily irritated stare, reaching up for him again. "Ah, fuck fuck fuck—"

"Wand," Theo said, as Draco kicked the squid away, wondering what the fuck he was talking about. "WAND, DRACO—"

"I'm obviously using my w-" He froze, registering the pointed look on Theo's face. "Ah, damn."

Theo held up his hands; What choice do we have?

Draco let out a growl, turning to swap his wand for the Elder Wand, and promptly aimed it at the window of the Slytherin common room just as Theo shot another Stupefy at the squid's lurking tentacle.

"Expulso," Draco shouted, bracing himself for nothing (or everything), and with a crash, the glass promptly shattered. The loss of the barrier between lake and castle sucked them in with a vast, unavoidable swallow, landing them with a hard impact against the furniture. Theo and Ron both let out loud swears in opposition, catapulted somewhere near the doused fireplace as Hermione cried out in pain, her back smacking hard into the stiff Victorian sofa.

Immediately, the tentacle began to loom, reaching for them again; unsurprisingly, the room was rapidly filling with water, and Draco struggled to raise his wand arm.

"Reparo," he shouted, and there was the sound of loud, squishing slice; something of a primal shriek, and then, with a tearing sound of suction, the tip of a giant tentacle fell rigid against the floor as the glass repaired itself, becoming solid once more.

Beside Draco, Ron rolled onto his knees, struggling through about two feet of sediment and lake water and waving away his bubble-head charm. "Bloody hell—"

Behind them, Theo was helping Hermione to her feet. "Well, that went well. Whose idea was that again?"

"Let's just get out of here," Hermione muttered, shivering, as she gingerly tested the swelling at her back. "That was terrible—"

"This way," Theo offered, leading them towards the dorms, "assuming you don't already know that from your venture into all-consuming envy for our superior house—"

Ron rolled his eyes, catching up to Hermione. "Oh, shut up, Nott—"

"Wait."

Draco stumbled as Harry's hand closed painfully around his arm, dragging him backwards in the same moment the others disappeared into the boys' dorm. He turned, about to argue that he didn't appreciate being grabbed, thank you, and could Potter please learn to keep his attempts at snatchery to something of a minimum?—when he realized that Harry's eyes were cold and angry, as sharply unrelenting as the bite of his grip had been.

"The wand," Harry said, teeth gritted, and Draco tried to pull from his reach.

"If this is how you say thank you, Potter, I'm sorry to say you're doing it wr-"

"Show me the wand you used to break that glass," Harry countered, "now. Show it to me."

Draco hesitated. "You know, there's such a thing as asking nicel-"

"I've seen it before, Malfoy." At that, Draco froze, and Harry's mouth tightened. "I've seen it, I know what it looks like, and no other wand could have done it, so—"

"So what?" Draco demanded, and Harry's gaze flicked up, ascertaining the others had gone.

"Where the fuck," Harry breathed warningly, "did you get the fucking Elder Wand?"


a/n: Dedicated to Relent1ess! Hope I can keep you entertained as you recover.