Chapter 18: High Stakes

Grindelverse

Grindelwald, unlike Voldemort, was primarily a militaristic dictator. Meaning, of course, that while one had been a fear-mongering psychopath with a band of loyal followers, the other was a fear-mongering psychopath with a band of loyal followers and a rigidly hierarchical chain of command. This, Hermione noted at once, was vastly more helpful than it sounded. Organization was an easy thing to take advantage of when there was a reliable predictability to how everything worked.

"Grindelwald has a lieutenant he keeps at his side," Ron had whispered to them as they made their way through the castle corridors. "His name is… I don't know. Karkaroff, maybe? Something like that."

"Igor Karkaroff," Hermione agreed with a grimace. "That sounds right."

"Right, him. He'll be in the room for sure," Ron continued, nervously fiddling with his Head Boy badge. "The rest of his officers will be outside the door. Usually three or so in the immediate vicinity, because Grindelwald is—"

"Consistent," Draco supplied flatly. "We're familiar."

"He's very committed to efficient queuing," Theo agreed. "In another life, he might have made quite an excellent industrial engineer. It's rather a pity he went for ruthless despot instead, all things considered—"

"Focus," Harry cut in with a sigh, giving Theo a grimly warning glance. "I think two of us should go into Weasley's meeting under the cloak," he suggested, pulling uncomfortably at his Slytherin tie, "and the remaining two can stay outside to make sure the other officers don't go in."

"Cut him off from his resources," Draco synthesized for the group, nodding in agreement. "Yes, I like it. Hermione and I will stay outside," he ruled definitively. "We'll dispatch his other officers while you and Theo take care of Karkaroff."

"Great," Harry confirmed, though Hermione gave Draco a withering glance. She didn't particularly appreciate being volunteered for something she wasn't especially interested in pursuing, depending what he'd meant by 'dispatch.' "Any questions?"

"Just one," Ron said, timidly raising a hand. "Do you happen to have an escape plan?"

"No," Theo said. "Any other questions?"

"Yes!" Ron insisted, dismayed. "If you don't have a plan, then—"

"Sorry, I meant—any other relevant questions?" Theo amended, and Ron, accurately sensing he wasn't in possession of anything particularly persuasive, merely sighed, gesturing them down the corridor and muttering something to himself about one or two more anti-perspiration charms.

The others had been very right about Grindelwald's preference for order. Where Voldemort's regime had been chaotic, to say the least (consisting, as it had, of various lawless zealots), Hermione had rarely seen Hogwarts in such a dignified state as she did on the day of Grindelwald's recruitment visit. As she and Draco fell casually into the orderly line of seventh year students, Hermione found herself remarking internally at how unfamiliar the entire process felt, given the alteration of circumstances. While students had often fallen to murmurs while waiting for Dumbledore to speak, the corridor of prospective Grindelwald recruits was positively deathly with silence. At no point did Peeves the Poltergeist appear overhead, and not once did a Weasley twin (or the equivalent, seeing as they were no longer students) release a dungbomb into the corridor. Everyone stood perfectly still, staring straight ahead, and Hermione and Draco made their way to the end of the queue without drawing much attention from the others who fell in behind them.

Ron, using his privileged position as Head Boy, ducked into the front of the queue with the Head Girl (who Hermione realized with a jolt was Padma Patil) ahead of the seventh year Prefects, awaiting Grindelwald's arrival. Harry and Theo were under the invisibility cloak by then, and Hermione was trying very hard not to look around too closely, fearing that being the only person entertaining any motion would almost certainly look suspicious.

Grindelwald's eventual arrival was arduously ceremonial. At the distance Hermione and Draco were standing (and from what she could see over Draco's shoulders), all she could make out of the infamous wizarding dictator was his highly decorated uniform—and, tellingly, the distance people kept from him, their gazes averting in a mix of respect and fear. He was led by Karkaroff, whom Hermione could see from afar had the same silvery hair and ostentatious beard she remembered from her fourth year, and succeeded by three other uniformed officers, one of which prompted Draco to a low groan.

"Poliakoff," Draco muttered under his breath to her. "Switch places with me."

Hermione nodded once, taking a discreet step forward and whispering to him as he slid covertly behind her. "What's wrong with him?"

"Everything. Nothing." Draco's voice was its loftiest, most irritated tone. "The important thing is he'll know something's up if he sees me."

"Ah." Hermione watched from afar as Grindelwald entered the classroom, followed by Karkaroff. The two unnamed officers took their respective places on either side of the door as Poliakoff, who couldn't have been much older than Draco or Hermione, peered keenly over the line, warning them all with a sharp-eyed glance.

"You know," Hermione murmured, turning her head just enough to lean towards Draco, "it's just occurred to me we might need to empty the castle. In case this turns into something dangerous."

She caught the motion of his brow furrowing. "I suppose."

"Well, you and I certainly can't take three guards ourselves," Hermione reminded him, fleetingly annoyed. "Not with this entire line of people here. What if some of them are sympathizers?"

At that, Draco grimaced. "True."

"Weasley, Ronald," called one of the guards at the door, interrupting them, and at his name being called, Ron lurched forward. As the door was held open for his arrival, Ron took a step and then abruptly fell back, dropping to adjust his shoelaces (or, more likely, to permit a cloaked Harry and Theo to enter first) before he stood, swiping briefly at his brow and walking into the room, the door sealing shut behind him.

"Wait here," Draco said to Hermione the moment the door had closed, ducking rapidly out of the queue and immediately out of sight. Hermione frowned, spinning around to look for him, and accidentally made eye contact with the person behind her.

"Wait a minute," said the student Hermione realized was Parvati Patil. "You're not—"

"Confundo," Hermione whispered apologetically, flicking her wand, and Parvati blinked, frowning into nothing as Hermione returned to face forward, scanning for wherever Draco had gone.

Ultimately, he was impossible to miss.

"Poliakoff." Draco's voice bounded through the corridor as he strode forward in his military uniform, the Deathly Hallows symbol gleaming on his chest the way it had when Hermione had first seen him. He held his chin aloft, practically dripping with authority, and though the two guards at the door exchanged a curious glance at the sight of him, Hermione noted nobody questioned his presence. Instead, Draco merely paused beside Poliakoff, drawing him away from the other two guards and leaning over to speak in his ear.

In reply, Poliakoff frowned. "You're sure?"

"Would I be here if I wasn't?" Draco replied, clipped. "We need this corridor evacuated immediately."

"On whose orders?" Poliakoff asked, and Draco leaned forward, half a smile pulling at his lips as Hermione strained to listen.

"Do you really want to be the person who fucked this up, Alexander," Draco said at a low murmur, "or shall we just move ahead to the part where you listen to your superiors?"

Poliakoff stiffened. "You're not my superior, Malfoy. Shouldn't you be at Durmstrang?"

Hermione reached for her wand, preparing to cast a spell of some sort—what spell, she had no idea—but Draco merely laughed, as if he'd found Poliakoff exceedingly amusing. He leaned forward, saying something unintelligible in Poliakoff's ear, and after another frozen beat of silence, Poliakoff nodded brusquely, tearing himself away.

"Empty the corridor," he said to the Prefects. "Make your way to the Great Hall. We'll reconvene in twenty minutes when the security of the castle has been reassessed."

Hermione frowned, utterly bemused, but ducked her head and followed as the other seventh years made their way back towards the Great Hall. She trudging dutifully alongside them in a similar direction until she had a chance to slip casually into an alcove, waiting for the others to pass before returning to where she'd been.

Once the crowd of students had thinned, Hermione prepared to leave her hiding place. In the little hinge of silence between coming and going, though, she caught a familiar voice from somewhere else in the castle and froze in place, listening intently.

"—what on earth do you mean a mutiny? You can't be serious—"

"I am, Minerva. Quite serious. And if you're going to be difficult—"

"What are you doing? Put that—put that down—"

There was a quiet muffling sound, and then nothing. Hermione paused for a moment, waiting, but after a period of silence during which she began to wonder if she'd possibly just imagined the entire thing, she forced herself back to the classroom containing Ron, recalling he was probably the one in greater need.

Upon arrival, she stopped short with surprise, watching Draco and Poliakoff step back from the limp bodies of the two guards outside the door.

"You're sure about this?" Poliakoff asked Draco, frowning, as Hermione concealed herself again, ducking out of sight and peering around the corner. "They didn't seem to have any idea what you were talking about."

"Of course they didn't," Draco said, reaching around with his wand arm to rest his hand on Poliakoff's shoulder. "When was the last time a traitor confessed their plot upon being asked, Alex? I told you," he said emphatically. "I wouldn't be here otherwise."

Poliakoff didn't look convinced. "Maybe we should confirm with Veritaserum, just in case. Don't you think?"

"An excellent idea," Draco agreed, but before Hermione could say or do anything, he'd put the tip of his wand to Poliakoff's forehead and the officer had dropped, legs collapsing beneath him.

Hermione balked, launching towards him. "What the—"

"Oh good, you're back," Draco noted, nodding to her and nudging Poliakoff's unmoving form aside, positioning him near the bodies of the other two guards. "Corridor evacuated, as requested."

"What did you do?" she demanded, staring down at Poliakoff's expressionless face. "He was cooperating. What if he could have been… I don't know. What if he was helpful, or—?"

"What, Alexander?" Draco asked doubtfully, making a face. "Don't be ridiculous. He's a soldier. He follows orders, that's all."

She swallowed hard. "Is he… dead?"

"No," Draco said, apparently exasperated that she would ask, "but we really shouldn't take up any more time, don't you think? Unless you want to be here when they wake up—"

She shuddered. "No, fine. Go."

Draco nodded crisply, pushing the door to the classroom open and pausing in the threshold, gesturing her inside.

Hermione wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but the man before her certainly wasn't it. She'd been objectively aware Grindelwald was Dumbledore's contemporary but hadn't quite made the connection until she saw the marks of age on his face, which were obvious upon closer inspection. Gellert Grindelwald was clean-shaven and well-groomed, permitting Hermione to see the deep grooves around his mouth and the sunkenness of his cheeks, and she had the strangest impression upon seeing him that he was not only old enough to be her grandfather, but perhaps that twice over.

She also noted that the vastly homicidal Grindelwald—responsible for the deaths of thousands in the wizarding world, if not more—appeared to be doing nothing more than asking a very fidgety Ron some incredibly mundane questions.

"… and Mr Weasley, your interest in the armed services is—ah, Malfoy," Grindelwald noted with surprise, catching Draco's entry and looking up. "Yes? What is it?"

There was no concern on his face, Hermione noted. He didn't perceive Draco as a threat. Beside him, though, Karkaroff seemed to think otherwise, perhaps having put it together that the guards outside the door wouldn't have permitted anyone entry if not for being compromised.

Upon seeing Draco, Karkaroff's brow had furrowed, his entire body twitching forward as if he would take a guarded step, but then, without warning, he fell to the ground. Grindelwald launched to his feet, immediately in a lurch of bewildered panic.

"Karkaroff, what is the meaning of this—"

But Harry and Theo had removed the cloak by then, both wands aimed straight for Grindelwald's forehead, and Ron scrambled to his feet, pitching himself behind them with his fingers wrapped tightly around his wand.

For a moment, there was no motion; no sound.

"Ah," Grindelwald said eventually, his hand twitching for his wand as he looked at Harry. "I see."

Harry said nothing.

"Malfoy," Grindelwald ventured, gaze flicking to Draco, "I take it you've already disarmed my guards, then?"

"Something like that," Draco confirmed, lifting his own wand to aim it at Grindelwald's chest. Hermione, meanwhile, stood beside him with her wand carefully at the ready. Another weapon pointed at him seemed, to Hermione, a bit excessive; she had to admit, unbeatable wand or not, she wasn't sure how Grindelwald was going to get out of this one.

To her surprise, though, Grindelwald's mouth merely twitched with disappointment, his hand rising to press against his mouth as he turned directly to Harry. "Ich habe gesehen, was mich ersetzen wird," he said softly, "und ich fürchte, es wird dir leid tun."

Hermione faltered, unable to translate, and watched Harry hesitate for a moment, his brow creasing with concern. Whatever Grindelwald said, it had clearly struck him enough to give him pause; beside her, Draco looked equally discomfited, his mouth tightening briefly.

"Do it, Harry," Draco said, voice hard, and at the reminder of what they'd come there to accomplish, Harry nodded, steadily aiming his wand.

"Avada—"

He was cut off by the sound of the doors bursting open, someone else suddenly appearing in the room.

"Avada Kedavra," said the voice Hermione had deliriously thought she'd heard earlier, and Grindelwald collapsed in a heap as the slender figure of Severus Snape strode forward, sending both Hermione and Draco flying backwards as he wrenched the Elder Wand from Grindelwald's unmoving hand.

"Don't," Snape warned, disarming Theo and waving away Harry's spell before he could attempt it, leaving Draco and Hermione to struggle to their feet from where they'd been slammed against the wall. "This isn't about you."

"Professor Snape?" Ron asked, gaping dumbly at him, and Theo frowned between them.

"Who the fuck are you?" he demanded, and Snape rounded on him, Elder Wand outstretched.

"Call me a friend of a friend," said Snape, as another figure appeared in the vacant doorway, this one unfortunately quite familiar to all of them.

"You have the wand?" Lily asked, and Snape pointedly held it up, offering it out to her. "Good," she said, taking it from him. "Thank you, Severus."

"Lily," Harry ground out furiously, "what are you—"

"Quiet," Snape said impatiently, flicking his wand to silence Harry, and Lily turned to him with an admonishing glare.

"Dispel that," she commanded, lips pressed thinly. "Now."

Snape grimaced, but obeyed.

"—thought I could trust you, Mum," Harry was gritting through his teeth, and immediately, Snape's face drained of color, looking as if he'd just pieced a fair few things together.

"What are you talking about? Lily, is he…" Snape's expression stiffened, his attention drifting to the ring Harry wore on his finger; the one containing the resurrection stone. "Lily, is this your son?"

"Yes," Lily confirmed, not looking up from the Elder Wand in her hand. "And apologies, Severus, but we're done here. It's not you, it's me. Goodbye."

"Lily, what the—"

There was a flash of green light as Severus dropped to the ground, the latest in a string of unmoving bodies as Hermione rushed towards Lily, not even bothering to threaten her with a wand.

"What are you doing?" Hermione hissed at her, blurting it out in dismay, and in answer, Lily fixed her with the too-familiar green gaze Hermione had seen so many times before.

"Saving my son," Lily pronounced flatly, and with a crack of apparation from the Elder Wand, she was gone, leaving Draco and Harry to stumble after in her wake.

"Fuck," Draco swore, kicking aimlessly at the ground as she disappeared. "Fuck—"

"What did he say?" Ron demanded, pale-faced as he turned to Harry and Theo. "Grindelwald. What did he tell you?"

Harry didn't answer. He seemed too thrown by his mother's appearance to speak, and in the midst of his silence (and the mutterings of a furiously pacing Draco) Hermione and Ron both turned to Theo, who spared them a malcontented grimace.

"He said," Theo began, and stopped. "He said, 'I have seen what replaces me,'" Theo translated for them, "'and I fear you will be sorry.'"

"Ominous," said Ron, shuddering. "I mean, that's bloody chilling, isn't it? And what do we do now?"

Nobody had a good answer.

Draco turned to Harry, his knuckles starkly white.

"We need that wand," Draco said without expression. The implication—Are you as willing to kill your mother as you were to kill Grindelwald, or do we need to reconsider?—hung in the air between them. Even Hermione wasn't sure what to say; it looked as though Harry was too stunned to process anything that had happened. She found she couldn't blame him, nor did she suspect anything she knew would be of any help.

"Let's get out of here," Theo suggested eventually, attention darting to the open door. "Before we get executed for treason."

"Ha," Ron attempted, voice shaky, but in answer, Theo merely shook his head.

"Sorry, Weasley," he said, tone uncharacteristically flat. "That one was unfortunately not a joke."


Potterverse

"Well, that was easy," Draco muttered, sliding into the booth where Harry and Hermione were waiting. They'd agreed prior to the Gringotts visit that meeting up in a muggle cafe was probably the easiest way to avoid drawing attention to themselves, though Draco doubted any group of unaccompanied teenagers could really avoid undue stares.

"A little too easy, if you ask me," Theo said, glancing over his shoulder before dropping into the booth next to Harry. "I mean, either that went suspiciously well or you're just a living disaster at this whole horcrux-hunting thing. Is this mine?" he asked, pointing to Harry's cappuccino, and Harry frowned.

"No, it's obviously mine," Harry said, "and I'm not a disaster." He cut Theo a disgruntled look. "It's not exactly an easy task."

"Actually, it kind of is," Theo corrected, sliding the cup across the table without regard for Harry's opposition and taking a pointed sip. "Jesus, Potter, what's in this?" he muttered, coughing his distaste, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Anyway," Harry said, reaching over to drag the coffee back from Theo before turning his attention to Draco, "did you get it?"

"Yes," Draco confirmed, leaning back in his seat. To his surprise, Hermione's hand slid over his knee, her thumb brushing tentatively over it. Evidently her time alone with Harry had been successful enough to rid her of much need for secrecy, and Draco wondered if perhaps she'd already been forgiven. Harry Potter seemed like the kind of person who could forgive anything if the story was at least interesting enough.

"You were right," he told Harry, who let out a breath in relief. "It's the Hufflepuff cup."

"How did you know which one it was, by the way?" Hermione asked Harry, who shrugged.

"Well, Dumbledore said there were seven pieces of him," Harry explained. "Himself, and probably one thing from each Hogwarts house, minus Gryffindor. And then a few others for magical significance."

"And how did Dumbledore know this?" Hermione asked, her voice a little too airy to be entirely innocent.

"Uh," said Harry.

Theo and Draco exchanged a look.

"Wait a minute," Theo said on their collective behalf, turning brusquely to Harry. "Are you telling me you based an entire year's worth of aimless questing on a hunch? How do you know there aren't… I don't know. Thirteen, or—" He threw a hand up, hypothesizing. "When's his birthday?"

"What, Voldemort's?" Harry asked, blinking. "I don't know. Why would that matter?"

"People often choose passwords and bank codes based on birthdays or other dates," Hermione supplied, taking a sip of her tea. "About eighty percent of all passcodes in the world, actually, if we're being slightly more exact than… oh, I don't know." She gave a blameless little shrug. "Some old guy's wild guess."

"See? She's got it," Theo agreed, gesturing with approval, and Harry made a lamentable face of injury, obviously bemoaning the disparagement of his patron, Saint Dumbledore. "How do you know the Dark Lord didn't just go right ahead and make a horcrux for every fucking day of the year, Potter?"

"I—" Harry hesitated. "Well, that just seems sort of… excessive, doesn't it?"

"Seven seems excessive," Draco pointed out, before adding impatiently, "Is there any quantifiable basis for any of this, or has the last year just been a thoughtless expedition of total, unintelligible rubbish?"

"Well—"

"You're also forgetting Dumbledore never mentioned you might have been a horcrux," Hermione pointed out to Harry, "which makes it eight total, doesn't it? So he was almost certainly lying, if not operating under an outright misconception," she conceded, clearly under the impression the latter was the more reprehensible crime.

"I," Harry began, and frowned, withering. "I don't like this."

"Well, welcome to the club," Theo informed him, reaching over and hijacking his cappuccino once again. "You know, speaking of clubs, seeing as you've got an entirely new set of conspirators—" He paused, taking a sip, and made a face as it went down. "Honestly, what is this?" he demanded, pulling out of reach as Harry threw an arm out to recover it. "Anyway, as I was saying," Theo continued, shoving Harry's face away, "you should really consider a new plan."

"Like what?" Harry asked warily, swatting impatiently at Theo's hand.

"I don't have one yet," Theo said, nudging him away. "I'm just saying, it's worth looking into."

"Well, if nobody's got any bright ideas," Draco suggested irritably, reaching over to shove them apart as Hermione laughed quietly into her tea, "we should probably just destroy this horcrux, shouldn't we? Get that little errand out of the way—"

"True. Always best to set achievable goals," Theo confirmed, taking another burgled sip of Harry's coffee before making yet another face. "And then," he continued, coughing, "we should probably go find out what happened to Narcissa Malfoy."

"What?" Draco and Harry said in unison, and then, also together, "Why?!"

"For one thing, she went to Bellatrix Lestrange's vault this morning," Theo pointed out. "Seems relevant."

"But she also got arrested today," Draco said, frowning.

"Right, well, that's another reason," Theo agreed. "Probably worth knowing what she got arrested for. Plus she's got a real handle on the dark arts," he added neutrally, speaking into Harry's cup, "so would probably know what to do if we wanted to talk to one of the horcruxes."

"What?" Harry and Draco said again, with a renewed chorus of, "Why?!"

"Just an idea," Theo said. Beside Draco, Hermione was frowning with thought, which was something he'd already learned to be highly suspicious of. "I mean, sure—we could just run around blindly destroying anything we suspect might be occupied by the severed piece of a dark wizard's soul, or we could just…" A shrug. "Ask one of the pieces."

"That's—" Harry blinked. "No. That's crazy. Why would it—he," he amended with an exasperated sigh, "ever tell us the truth?"

"Actually," Hermione chimed in, "most psychopathic serial killers are quite likely to confess their crimes. Recognition is part of the game," she said with what Draco considered to be a rather discomfiting certainty, "so Theo's certainly not wrong."

"I rarely am," Theo assured her, "but thank you for your vote of confidence."

"You're welcome," Hermione permitted, turning back to Harry. "I mean, am I saying it's a good idea? No," she half-laughed. "No. Not at all. Not even remotely, no. But could it work?" She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe."

"This is ridiculous," Draco said, which wasn't exactly news, but was absolutely a fact that hadn't been adequately remarked upon in a while. "We're not reviving the Dark Lord—we just killed him, for fuck's sake!" At a sidelong glance from an elderly couple a few tables over, Draco lowered his voice, leaning towards the others. "Too many things could go wrong," he hissed to them, hoping that much had struck the others as equally obvious, "so I don't think it's worth it. Besides, if we can't find the horcruxes, then why would anyone else know to look for them? It's not like we have to be in a hurry to destroy the ones we're not even certain exist."

"It's certainly a gamble," Hermione conceded, sipping her tea. "Either way. Don't you think?"

"There's a lot of gambling going on here," Harry agreed uncomfortably. "And I'm not saying I'm not a betting man, but I'm just not quite sure what the payout is for any of this."

"Well," Draco said, determined to make the decision for them, "then I say we just get rid of the cup, and then—"

"Draco," interrupted Hermione, "listen, I need a favor."

"Right, well, hold your horses, Granger," he said impatiently, "because as you can see, I'm speak-"

Draco broke off, realizing Hermione was tapping her foot pointedly on his left, clearly fidgeting with nerves.

And she was also staring at him, totally bewildered, from his right.

"Oh no," he said, slowly turning to face the one standing beside him.

"Yes," Hermione sighed. "Hello. It's me again."


Grindelverse

They'd taken the Floo from Hogwarts with Ron's assistance, avoiding the remaining officers Grindelwald had stationed around the castle and stepping gingerly over the unconscious body of Minerva McGonagall (which presumably accounted for the muffled sound Hermione had heard earlier). They made their way back to James Potter's house to discover James and Sirius had been tied up and gagged, sitting back to back on the floor until Harry rushed forward to untie them.

"THAT WOMAN," James announced the moment he'd been freed, "IS ABSOLUTELY THE BANE OF MY WRETCHED EXISTENCE—"

"Agreed," Sirius muttered bitterly over his shoulder, "and now imagine how much worse it is for me, who hasn't even fu-" He paused, noting Harry's arched brow. "Had the f…ortune, I mean," Sirius amended uncomfortably, "of knowing her intimately. You know, as one does when one is in love. And respectful of one's partners. With consent and all that." Another pause. "I respect her, is what I'm trying to say."

"You do know Harry and I fuck, right?" Theo asked Sirius, who grimaced.

"I wish you would stop reminding me—"

"What happened?" Draco interrupted, folding his arms over his chest. "Where's Remus?"

"Who's Remus?" asked Ron.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," James said, growling at the sight of Ron. "Why is there another one? Are you trying to start a home for wayward children?"

"Remus is a werewolf we picked up once," Theo supplied cheerfully, and Ron's face paled once again.

"Remus is gone," Sirius corrected flatly, struggling to his feet. "He's the one who tied us up. He was not gentle," he added, scowling as he massaged his wrists, "which I will be happy to thank him for with my fists whenever I see him next."

"Well, there's only one reason Lily would do this and let Remus go," Hermione pointed out, as Draco set his jaw, waffling somewhere between irritated and indignant. "Tom clearly had something to do with this."

"For the last time—"

"No," Harry cut in wearily, glancing at Hermione. "She's right. Tom's what Remus and my moth-" He broke off, pausing. "He's what Remus and Lily have in common." He ran a hand through his hair, turning away. "I have to… I just have to go," he mumbled, wandering towards his study, and as he went, Draco and Theo exchanged a practiced glance.

"You go after him," Draco muttered to Theo, moodily watching Harry exit the room. "Hermione and I can talk about—"

"Actually," Theo cut in, glancing idly at Hermione, "I don't think so."

Draco frowned. "What?"

"I'll talk to Hermione," Theo said, nodding to her before turning back to Draco. "You talk to Harry."

"But—"

"Go," Theo said with finality, flicking Draco a careless wave. Then he beckoned for Hermione to follow him elsewhere, which, for some reason, she did. She supposed Theo was a welcome relief from Draco, at least for the moment. She was starting to get the impression that if she said the name 'Tom Riddle' one more time Draco might spontaneously lose his mind, so it was either follow Theo or watch James continue to rant to Sirius about Lily being the death of him (which was unfortunately going to have to be Ron's only option).

"So," Theo said to her when they were alone, traversing the halls of James' house and making their way somewhere he didn't feel the need to share with her. "You clearly know something about Lily."

He seemed to be referencing her parting words to Harry's mother. In retrospect, Hermione thought she might have seen him flash her a curious glance at the time, though she'd been (rightfully) distracted by other things.

"I," Hermione began, and frowned, considering her feet uncertainly as they walked. "I talked to her, yes," she conceded, "though it's becoming increasingly likely she lied to me."

"Well, being quite a magnificent liar myself, I can tell you lies are usually based at least partly in truth," Theo remarked, pushing open a door at the top of the stairs and falling backwards onto the bed inside before propping himself up on his elbows, eyeing her. "Tell me what she said," he suggested, "and maybe we can sort it out."

Hermione fidgeted with indecision, torn on whether to discuss any of it, before realizing where she very likely was.

"Is this your bedroom?" she asked bluntly, glancing around the room. There was a single moving picture in a frame on his desk: Theo with his arms wrapped around Harry and Draco on either side, a wintry-looking wind blowing color into their cheeks. Harry's hand was resting lightly on Theo's stomach, a careless smirk on his face as he looked somewhere out of camera view, and Draco, on the other side, stood with his arm around Theo's waist, giving the camera his unfailing smile.

"Yes," Theo said, sitting upright and patting the spot next to him on the bed. "But don't worry," he assured her, half-smiling. "I've been rather idiotically in love with the same person my entire life, so. Your virtue is safe with me."

Hermione sat beside him, hesitating a moment before admitting, "You know, in my universe you and Harry aren't even friends. I'm not actually sure you've ever spoken."

Theo shrugged. "I'll win him over eventually," he said.

"Pretty sure of yourself," Hermione noted with a laugh, and he turned to her with a strange absence of his usual grin.

"I had to earn him," Theo said. "These things don't happen overnight."

It seemed like he'd meant to tell her something more than precisely what he'd said, but she wasn't sure what. She simply spared him a gradual nod, and after a moment, the smile eased back onto his face.

"So," he ventured. "Lily."

Hermione sighed. "Lily," she agreed, wondering where to start. "She's the one who gave Draco the portkey."

She was relieved to see Theo's expression warp slightly with concern. "I see."

"She's been to my universe at least once," Hermione said, and before long, she was confessing everything, from what Lily had discovered about Tom Riddle to why Lily had made a deal with him to begin with, and more troublingly, what the circumstances had been surrounding Harry's birth. As she spoke, Theo's brow furrowed more and more heavily in thought, and by the time she was finished, he was looking intently into nothing, something unknowable formulating in his mind.

"…and that's it," Hermione exhaled eventually. "That's all I know. That Lily doesn't trust Tom," she clarified, "but she definitely might owe him something."

"Well," Theo said, after a thud of pause at the conclusion of her story, "it's unfortunate we can't ask him."

"Who?" she said, blinking. "Tom? Well," she remarked with a humorless laugh, "seeing as there's no way he'd just tell us—"

"No," Theo interrupted, shaking his head. "Not Tom. Not this Tom, anyway. One of the other Toms—like your Lord Voldemort, for example," he suggested, tilting his head in consideration. "Unless you doubt for some reason that a man like Tom Riddle would try to speak with his counterparts?"

"I—" Hermione stopped, startled. "Wait. What are you saying?"

"Nothing, really." A shrug. "Just that I imagine one version of Tom Riddle might have some idea what the other was up to," Theo said. "Don't you think?"

"Well, yes, I suppose, but—"

"It's unfortunate Draco was so short-sighted with that portkey," Theo added to himself. "If we could communicate with your universe, then maybe—"

"We can." Hermione stopped short just as she said it, alarmed by how the admission had simply fallen out of her mouth uninvited, and Theo turned to her with a solemn look of prompting; i.e., yes, well, surely you know you can't stop there, don't you? "I, um. I can communicate with Malfoy. The other Draco, I mean," she amended, grimacing. "Sometimes. It's hard to explain."

"You clearly hadn't planned on explaining it," Theo pointed out, half-smiling. "Hasn't anyone told you secrets don't make friends, Hermione?"

"Well, I—" She hesitated, unsure whether to tell him the truth, before gradually conceding. "I didn't particularly want Draco to know," she admitted after a moment, glancing sheepishly up at him.

"Fair," Theo agreed. "He did trap you here."

Hermione blinked, entirely thrown. "That's—"

"True. Isn't it?" Theo prompted, but she merely sat very still, having never wondered what Draco's other accomplices might have thought of his decision before. "Just because he's my best friend doesn't mean I don't occasionally disapprove of his harried abductions. He made that decision independently," Theo informed her. "We only agreed he'd procure the Elder Wand, as you might recall, so imagine our dismay when he brought home a stray muggleborn instead."

"Oh," Hermione managed faintly, and Theo grinned.

"I suppose you didn't consider Persephone might have had friends in the Underworld, did you?" he prompted, dizzying her momentarily with the comparison. "Understandable. But my point is, if there's a way to reach your universe," he mused, "then perhaps you should."

"Are you…" She trailed off, apprehensively chewing her lip. "Are you going to tell him?"

"Eh. I like to keep Draco on a need-to-know basis," Theo said. "When he needs to know, I'll tell him. In the meantime…" He trailed off, pointedly waving a hand. "If you want my advice, I say use whatever resources you're given. If you're telling me we have access to information," he clarified, "then I suggest you take it."

"But we can't just bring back Lord Voldemort," Hermione protested. "That's—that would be—"

"Dangerous? Oh, surely," Theo agreed. "Understood. But there's a difference between a Lord Voldemort who wants you dead and one who's your prisoner, isn't there? Metaphorically speaking, of course," he assured her, with a smile that was only marginally disconcerting. "There is quite a lot at stake, though. If Tom Riddle has access to a multiverse, then the absence of Grindelwald may be precisely as bad as he suspected it would be."

I know what comes after me, she recalled, and I fear you will be sorry.

"Are we really going to listen to Grindelwald, though?" Hermione asked skeptically, hesitating.

"Well, it's really the least we can do," Theo remarked, "seeing as we killed him."

She wanted to point out that wasn't technically true—Severus Snape had killed him, just as he'd killed Dumbledore in her universe—but just like then, she couldn't quite figure out why. And what if Theo was right? What if the Tom Riddle in another universe could be the key to this one?

"Where's the ring?" she asked after a moment, slightly pained by the inherent admission in asking, and Theo's mouth quirked slightly.

"I can get it for you," Theo offered. "If you trust me."

I suppose you didn't consider Persephone might have had friends in the Underworld, did you?

She nodded, exhaling slowly in resignation. "I do," she said. "I will. But don't tell anyone," she warned, and Theo nodded his agreement, rising to his feet and slipping out of the room.

Later, when he'd procured the ring for her, shutting his bedroom door softly and handing it to her with muted solemnity, she'd gave momentary homage to every deity she could think of that her universe's Draco Malfoy had thought to keep the stone on him.

"Draco," she said with palpable relief once she saw him, her hand pressed to her chest, and Theo waited beside her, listening with contained curiosity.

"Listen," Hermione exhaled, rising to her feet. "I need a favor."


Potterverse

"Did I hear you say you had the cup?" the Hermione in Grindelwald's universe was saying to him, which was startling, to say the least. The concept that the two Hermiones could simultaneously (but not) be sitting on either side of him was more than a little disconcerting, but Draco nodded in answer, relieved there were at least no further secrets for him to hide.

"Yes," he confirmed. "Theo and I got it out of my Aunt Bellatrix's vault."

Hermione's face contorted at that, and her gaze flicked up briefly, as if she'd been making some sort of muted clarification for the benefit of someone else in the room with her.

"Am I… I mean, is he," Draco amended gruffly, displeased, "in the room with you? Because honestly, Granger, I don't really think you should—"

"It's not him," Hermione said quickly. "Not you, I mean, or—well, look," she continued hurriedly, cutting herself off. "Just… don't destroy the horcrux, okay? Not yet."

"And why not?" Draco demanded.

"What's she saying?" Harry asked him, straining to see.

"Shush," Draco snapped, glaring at him before turning back to the image of Hermione. "What do you mean don't destroy it?"

If Theo's amused smirk from across the table hadn't been irritating enough, the two Hermiones made matters worse by leaning forward, both of them conspiratorially easing into his space (one more physically than the other, but still). "I think we should talk to him," the less corporeally-present Hermione was saying. "Voldemort, I mean. Listen, when Grindelwald died—"

"You killed Grindelwald?" Draco echoed, aghast, and Hermione sighed impatiently.

"Well, Snape did. And then Lily—look, I don't really want to get into it," she said, as Draco frowned to himself, wondering what on earth she was going on about. "Just—can you figure out a way to… I don't know. Revive the horcrux?" she asked him, gaze darting briefly away again. "I mean, obviously there's a way, though I don't know what it is—"

"Have you had a recent head injury?" Draco demanded. "I'm not bringing Lord fucking Voldemort back to life!"

Across the table, however, Theo was smiling his thinly-veiled I knew it smile, taking another sip of Harry's cappuccino before finally slipping his wand from his sleeve, discreetly transfiguring the beverage to something else.

"Hey," said Harry, frowning.

"Have better taste," Theo advised snippily in reply as Hermione continued to press Draco from the stone's projection.

"—I know it isn't a great idea. In fact, it very much isn't, but surely you could figure out a way to do it where you could just… get some answers. I mean, there's a huge possibility he knows about both the universes, Malfoy, so—"

"Hold on," Draco interrupted. "I don't know anything about how to bring someone back from a horcrux. Or anything about horcruxes, even," he corrected himself, throwing his hands up, "so—"

"You know who would?" Theo cut in neutrally, taking an unencumbered sip.

Draco groaned. "Do not say my moth-"

"Your mother," Theo confirmed, smirky with satisfaction, and after a few tensed moments of silent consideration—the entirety of which was spent contemplating Theo's murder—Draco turned back to Hermione, permitting his reply to slip through testily gritted teeth.

"Fine," he conceded, grumbling as she nodded with relief. "We won't destroy it yet. At least not until…" He flinched. "Not until we talk to my mother. Happy?" he demanded from Theo, who was all but radiating with delight.

"Yes. Very," Theo replied with an egregious lack of shame. Then he drained the cup formerly containing Harry's coffee and leaned back with a grin, monstrously satisfied.


a/n: For Tootsie Roll 101, who is wonderful, and who also consistently makes me think about the time I, a so-called "adult woman," got in trouble for digging all the blue tootsie rolls out of a candy jar.