Chapter 22: Game Theories
Piecing things together was one of Hermione's favorite activities. There was an art to synthesis which took something fairly uncomplicated (the simple possession of knowledge, for example) and made it something complex, which she supposed was closer to actual intelligence. To know something was only one thing; children, after all, could easily recite facts. To merely collect all the things one knew into some sort of receptacle was no better than a hobby like stamp collecting or scrapbooking. But to take everything one knew and begin to put it in order, paced out from first to last and then considered in the context of but what does this actually mean?—that was the science of it, and the art, too.
Art, because interpretation required craftsmanship, which was where Hermione usually excelled.
"It's not that complicated," she was telling Draco, who seemed to not be listening. She vaguely recalled that to be a spectacularly annoying habit of his: his expert ability to tune people out. He'd certainly possessed it while they were still taking classes together, and she'd used to marvel at how he seemed to have halfway decent grades despite almost never paying attention.
Still, the math was elegantly simple, whether Draco Malfoy was listening or not.
"The Tom Riddle I've met in this universe must be the one from our universe," Hermione determined, having by then compiled and analyzed all necessary facts. "Though," she mused, frowning to herself, "I will say I'm not sure why that frightened Lily enough to run."
"Well, it certainly explains what my mother was saying," Draco replied, and Hermione blinked, having been certain by then his mind was clearly elsewhere. Maybe he wasn't very good at attentive listening, which in her view required the mirroring of facial expressions. Maybe he was just terribly unsocialized, which was surely an ironic thing for Hermione Granger to think, but seemed to be an inarguable point. "She kept talking about 'the real Tom Riddle,' which sounded a bit nonsensical at the time, but makes sense if what the horcrux said is true."
"I wonder why he'd choose this universe rather than his own?" Hermione thought aloud, frowning. "Your other self was fairly convinced Tom was nothing important until we met him. Even afterwards, in fact," she conceded, recalling the many arguments they'd had. "So why would Tom choose to exist in a universe where he didn't have any power, rather than the one where he had an entire following?"
"Maybe being a homicidal overlord is a lot of work," Draco suggested, with a half-smile that Hermione realized meant he was likely joking. Imagine that, she thought. Draco Malfoy and I are in on a joke. "Maybe he preferred not to deal with the logistics. I imagine being an off-the-grid smuggler has advantages of its own, particularly if he merely wanted to develop his magical abilities without interruption."
"Can you imagine taking over an entire world and then deciding it wasn't enough?" Hermione asked, remembering what the horcrux had said: Colonization. "How long do you think Tom planned to master multiple universes?"
"Long enough to get pretty damn good at it, I expect," Draco said, and paused. "Actually, I can see how it would appeal to someone like him. It's not that fun to win, you know, when winning is easy. Maybe he enjoyed the plotting more." He raised his tankard of butterbeer to his lips. "Seems like something you might understand, actually."
"What?" Hermione asked, frowning at him. "In what world would I understand Tom Riddle?"
"At least one of them," Draco pointed out, sparing her his usual smirk. "You clearly enjoy the intellectual game he set up for you, whether you want to admit it or not. Are you really telling me you wouldn't find some sort of perverse pleasure in creating one of your own?"
She gaped at him. Why were all the Draco Malfoys so insistent she shared any qualities with Tom Riddle? "I'm not like him—"
"I'm not saying you are," he cut in, rolling his eyes. Evidently he tired of her continued opposition as quickly as she did of being compared to a genocidal madman in the first place. "I'm just saying, at a certain level of intelligence—or skill, I guess, if you want to call it that—it's really not enough to simply win at someone else's game. You have to design the entire game yourself, and then round up some unwilling participants." He took a sip, then glanced around. "Or willing ones, seeing as I suppose that's what we technically are, thanks to you."
He sounded lightly mocking, though not particularly spiteful. "It's not as if we can just let him get away with it. There's no Ministry laws about paradoxes—he could face absolutely no consequences," Hermione reminded him, suddenly a bit irritated, both that anyone would think to do it and that no one, herself included, had ever considered the possibility that Tom Riddle could. "If we don't fix this, who will?"
"Actually," Draco said thoughtfully, and she braced herself for another annoying answer. "Maybe there's something to that. They say the Dark Lord was only ever afraid of one wizard, right?" he prompted, and she nodded warily, unsure where he was going with that, though it at least wasn't a suggestion they make it someone else's problem. "So doesn't it make sense he would choose to locate himself in the universe where Albus Dumbledore wouldn't be able to stop him?"
"An interesting theory," Hermione said, and it was, she supposed. Not a helpful one in the immediate scheme of things, but it certainly shed some light on who Tom was if that were true. After all, it had been Dumbledore he'd asked this universe's Lily to spy on all those years ago. "You know, maybe we should consider the players," she said, brightening. "In Tom's game, I mean."
Draco tilted his head. "Well, there's my mother, for one."
"Oh yes, definitely," Hermione said. "And Harry's mother. One version of her, at least. Though I wonder why he'd choose them?"
Again, Draco appeared to not be listening. His fingers were drumming idly against the table and he was scanning the room, not looking at anything in particular. She nearly gave up on receiving an answer until Draco began speaking, not looking at her.
"He likes outsiders," he noted. "Both versions of him. If you think about it, that's why he was able to take over our world so easily—it wasn't the purebloods," he realized, frowning to himself. "That's a relatively small number, anyway. It was because he won over the creatures, the fringe players. The werewolves, the giants, the inferi, the dementors…" He trailed off, blinking. "I think I'm just now realizing he hardly needed the purebloods at all."
"Not true," Hermione pointed out. "He needed money. Resources."
"Oh good, so he used us," Draco said drily, "and we let him." He was silent for a moment. "We were really that arrogant, weren't we?" he murmured to himself. "We were so stupid we didn't even notice he was taking our money and our hate and using it up, draining us of everything for his own use. It wasn't even to our benefit at all, was it?"
"I—" Hermione wasn't quite sure what to say. "Well, no, Malfoy, it wasn't," she eventually concluded, figuring honesty might have been most helpful. He seemed to be in a synthesizing place of his own, which she could certainly relate to. "In all likelihood you'd have remained… well, virtually his prisoner, really. For as long as he was in power."
Draco shuddered a little. "Yes," he said. He cleared his throat. "Well," he determined gruffly, evidently ready to discard that particular discussion. "What a wonderful episode of self-reflection that was."
"At least you did something about it," Hermione reminded him. "Right? You're here now, doing something about it."
"Well, Granger, at the risk of losing what minimal optimism you have in me, you should know I had very little to do with that," he told her drily. "Your other self was something of an inciting factor. I can't very well claim to have had some sort of epiphany on my own."
She toyed a little with the prospect of bringing that up, discarding it and picking it back up every few seconds until finally, she went for it. "You like her," Hermione guessed.
Draco gave her a skeptical glance. "Are we really doing this?"
"Well, kind of, yes," Hermione said, a little stung that he'd treat it so lightly. "You brought up… you know. Your other self." Who, speaking of, was currently still stunned at James Potter's house where she'd left him. She found it strange to be without him, having been a constant fixture at his side, but was a little relieved he wasn't here now. He seemed to regularly force her to reexamine herself in unfavorable lights, which she wasn't sure she had any willingness to do at the moment—at least not any further than she already had. "Seems only fair I get to bring it up now."
"Fine." Draco slid his tongue lightly over his lips, pressing them thin. "Yes. I like her."
"Why?" Hermione asked, unable to prevent it. "You hate me. Or hated, I suppose, if I'm giving myself the benefit of the doubt."
Draco shrugged. "When I met you I was eleven. Context matters, Granger. Doesn't it?" he posed to her. "Otherwise you wouldn't have considered any version of me, either."
I hate all versions of you, she'd once said to the other Draco. Aptly, the little M on her wrist stung for a moment. "You're right," she permitted. "It's different. I guess I just never thought you'd, um." She cleared her throat, unsure how to express what she was thinking. "I mean, she looks identical to me."
"Yes." He was fidgeting. "As does he."
"Does that mean that you, um." She tilted her head. Why was she having this conversation? Granted, they'd known they were going to be sitting here for some time, but surely there was something else to talk about. Like, for example, anything on earth. What had she done? She wasn't the most gifted at conversation, sure, but this—
"Did you ever think of me that way?" fell out of her mouth, which she regretted immediately, seeing as his face blanched slightly the moment she asked. For a second, despite how well things had been going between them, she was reminded of the boy who'd called her a mudblood so many times and recalled sharply how little he'd ever appeared to care for her. Of course he hadn't thought of her that way, or in any way, at that. She felt sheepish and embarrassed and slightly sick that she'd stupidly thought to venture it.
Strangely, though, the answer he chose to give her was, "Yes, I did," which struck her as incredibly puzzling, seeing as he looked… disgusted. Repulsed. Opposed, at the very least. "What?" he asked, lifting a brow at what must have been her visible confusion. "Obviously you thought of me that way, too, or neither of us would be here, would we?"
A logical point. She was relieved reason was still without reach. "Yes. True. Sorry," she muttered, glancing down at the butterbeer she'd barely touched. "It's just that you looked very… well, you looked very like the old you for a second. The usual you."
And he had. He wore an unforgettable arrangement of his features when he was looking at her like she repelled him in some way. It made him very him, and very not his other self, which in this particular moment wasn't especially comforting.
"Well, only because it's an uncomfortable question," he said defensively. "You make me uncomfortable in a way your other self doesn't. Probably because she doesn't know me very well," he admitted, and because it was such an odd mirror of her thoughts, Hermione blinked.
"You like her because she has no opposition to you," she realized, and Draco frowned.
"I imagine there's more to it than that," he said warily.
"Maybe, but not really," Hermione said, nearly laughing. What an outrageous thought, and yet she was quite certain it was true. "Is it really that simple?" she asked him, shaking her head. "Was I really able to fall for another version of you purely because he didn't hate me like you did?"
"You fell for him?" Draco echoed, which was not at all the point she'd been trying to make, but was evidently where his inattentive listening had taken him.
"Obviously," she sighed, and then grimaced. "And if this is about me doing anything sexual with him, you should know it's perfectly healthy for a girl to want to—"
"I know that," he said, exasperated. "I'm not—it's not that, it's just…" He trailed off, toying with the handle of his tankard. "It's strange, that's all. There's a universe where you're in love with me," he said, remarking it blithely to himself, and at the words, something lurched in her chest. "It's just a little difficult to wrap my mind around."
"Are you saying you don't have feelings for me?" she asked him, and quickly corrected herself. "The other version of me, I mean."
"Well." He chewed his lip, considering it. "Yes. Yes, I suppose."
She arched a brow. "Convincing."
"Well, it's just—I have… feelings, yes." He looked supremely uncomfortable. "I just don't know what kind of feelings those are, not having had a reason to consider them before."
"How haven't you considered it?" Hermione prompted, disbelieving. "You let her take my place, didn't you?"
"Ouch, Granger." He was drawing idle shapes on the table now, not looking up. "I didn't think you were upset about that."
"I'm not." I am, she realized, though she hadn't been until that moment. Somehow, it became retroactively personal that he'd apparently been perfectly satisfied with someone else who wasn't her. "I just don't know how you can say you don't know how you felt when clearly, you must have felt something—"
"Fine," he said, sitting back crossly. "Fine, you really want to hear this? Let's do it, then. I have very strong feelings about her, but I suspect they're a mix of complicated things I haven't wanted to think about because for one thing, I was wasting away at the Dark Lord's hands. I might have loved anything that gave me an escape, and she was that. Does that mean she doesn't also fascinate me? No," he said irritably, "because she does. Because she is fascinating. She's brave and confident and fearless, and fuck, it's a marvel," he exhaled, wearily resting his face in his hands. "She makes me stronger, makes me better, and does that give me some sort of feeling? Yes."
He paused. "But was I attracted to her before she ever walked into my life? Yes, of course I was, because she looks like—"
Hermione held her breath, and Draco fixed her with an uncomfortably direct glance.
"Because she fucking looks like you, Granger, what do you want from me?" he demanded, and she shook her head quickly, a little unable to believe he'd actually said the words out loud but certainly not wanting to dwell on it.
"Sorry, I wasn't—I wasn't trying to pry," she said, though she obviously was, and they both knew it. Because as curious she was about the end of his little rant, she was more curious about the middle bits. Specifically, about why he could love a version of her that wasn't her, and she listened to the words brave and confident and fearless and thought sadly, of course.
Who wouldn't love someone like that? Those were all things she wanted to be, but wasn't. Not really.
"You must have had feelings for the other me for a reason," he pointed out, jolting her from her somewhat depressing train of thought. "What were yours?"
"What? Well, it's not like I had a choice. Or much of one. You made me seduce him, remember?" she told Draco, who scowled.
"Don't make excuses, Granger, it's your turn," he said flatly. "I showed you mine," he added with a darkened laugh, and she wished she'd thought this through before bringing it up.
Hadn't there been literally anything else she could have tried to talk about?
"I suppose he… valued me." She paused, carefully trying to articulate her point. "He wanted me for what I was, for who I was. Sometimes he made me feel like I was something better, something bigger. He was—is," she corrected herself, seeing as he wasn't exactly dead, "compelling. Attentive. Capable of… of awe." She could feel herself blushing, and hated that Draco wasn't looking away. Wasn't now the perfect time to stop listening? She loathed him for staring at her. "I suppose I just like that he knows what he wants," she finished, and Draco considered her for a long moment.
Several moments.
"Unfortunate that we're nothing like them," he said eventually, picking up his butterbeer again and letting his attention wander away from her.
She strongly wished she'd said nothing. "Yeah. True."
"Trouble in paradise, lovebirds?" came a voice to her left, and she jumped, forgetting entirely what they'd been waiting for until it arrived. "And here I was so convinced you two would make it."
Hermione sighed, turning to their most recent visitor and giving Draco a warning look, reminding him to play along.
"Hi, Remus," she said, and he pulled up a chair, falling into it to prop his feet up on the booth beside her.
"Hello," he replied spiritedly. "Now, tell me straight away, would you, because I don't think I can stand the wait." He grinned, folding his arms over his chest. "What stupid thing have the two of you done now?"
The man Draco had only known as Professor Lupin did not look at all like himself. This version of him looked vastly younger, unburdened, and had hands with ink scrawled over them, tattooed on most of his visible skin where it emerged from his worn leather sleeves or from beneath his dingy t-shirt. Where their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had been quiet, patient, slow to react, this one looked, in some way Draco didn't know how to explain, like a candle flame that was seconds away from a wildfire.
"We were told we might find you here," Hermione told him. They'd already agreed she'd do most of the talking, seeing as Draco was busy impersonating some other version of himself. Try to not-talk in a very specific way, too, she'd advised him, sort of like you're too good for present company, but also like you're actively trying not to curse everyone around you.
Amazing that had been the more appealing version of him, he thought grumpily, and then remembered she'd specifically told him not to sulk.
He doesn't do that, she'd said. He's much too self-assured to bemoan much of anything for long.
Well, then he could just jump off a bridge, Draco lamented.
"Who told you where to find me?" Remus asked her, and then seemed to think better of it. "Never mind. It's not as if I make a business of being difficult to find. That, I think, is necessary for an entirely different skill set."
"We need to find Lily," Hermione said. "Have you heard from her?"
"Of course not," Remus said, scoffing a little. He slid a glance at Draco, who suspected that whatever interaction Remus had previously had with the other version of him, it hadn't been pleasant for either one of them. "I have to imagine she's smarter than that. After all, you're not the only ones looking for her."
"Tom can't find her?" Hermione asked, either surprised or feigning surprised, and Remus shrugged.
"I think he knows she'll find him eventually," he said. "He's not too fussed about it."
That, Draco thought to himself, was probably one of the hazards of putting in place a plot half a century in the making. It must eventually become difficult to fuss about much of anything, given the scope of time.
Alarmingly, as if Remus could smell the mutiny coming from Draco's direction, the other man turned his head. "You're unusually quiet," Remus noted.
"I find present company distasteful," Draco said, finding it sadly quite easy to imitate his other self. Scorn had always come extremely naturally, as had wrath and irritation. The accessible expressions. "Is there something you wish me to say?"
Remus looked over his shoulder. "Not here. Walk with me," he suggested, and Hermione narrowed her eyes.
"We're not going to see Tom," she warned him, and he shrugged.
"Doesn't matter," he said. "I don't like to discuss business in places like this. Scum everywhere," he noted with a glare at someone in the corner who looked suspiciously like a thief Draco recognized from their own universe. "Whatever it is you want, you won't get it from me here."
Hermione glanced at Draco, who gave a small shrug. "Fine," she conceded, rising to her feet. Draco followed last in succession, letting her be the one to handle whatever it was she felt she could get from him. Hermione had insisted Remus Lupin was an important key to all of this, but Draco, who couldn't see the connectivity of the web as clearly as she seemed to, thought he was better off less involved.
Remus held the door for both of them, bumping Draco's shoulder in a calculated show of alpha masculinity as he passed, and then they stepped out of the pub, which was located at the hinge between Diagon and Knockturn Alley. Remus seemed a man who liked to have an eye on both sides, which was perhaps why Hermione saw value, though Draco merely saw a threat.
"How's business, by the way?" Hermione asked Remus, who shrugged. He was looking warily around as he wove them into Diagon, following a path that seemed aimless, but probably wasn't. "Since Grindelwald's gone, I mean."
"It's not good," Remus said under his breath. "People who are used to being under someone's thumb only become more dangerous when they're set free. They're looking for order, and nobody else in Grindelwald's hierarchy is actually fit to lead. He didn't prepare adequately for his death."
"Does anyone?" Hermione asked innocently, and Remus shot her a knowingly impatient look.
"What do you want?" he asked, pointedly not answering the question.
"The wand," Hermione said. "Same as Tom. Same as you, I expect. The difference is I'm much more likely to get it from Lily than he is."
"Doubt that." Remus was weaving through narrow passages, checking over his shoulder as he went. "You're talking about a woman who hid for nearly twenty years, if not more. She can hide for a lifetime if she wants to."
"I thought you'd just met?" Hermione asked.
"We had," Remus said. "But a long time in my particular niche of professionalism teaches me to recognize what kind of creature I'm dealing with when I see one. Some people run, some kick and scratch and crawl, some bite, some hide. She's a shadow." He looked briefly at Draco. "She can hide forever, if she wants."
Something was off about Remus, Draco thought with a frown. He thought about the shops they'd passed, trying to make sense of the path he was taking, and stopped short as he registered a pattern, taking Hermione's arm and yanking her into him.
"He's leaving a message for someone," he breathed in her ear, and she frowned. Ahead of them, Remus paused, sparing them a suspicious glance as Draco bent his head, trying to conceal the motion of his lips. "He's weaving around shops, but I think he's taking us on this route on purpose. The first place he turned was was Lilith's," he explained in a low voice, cupping his hand around her jaw to make it look like affection, "then Ivander's House of Oddities, then Lysander's Produce and Herbs, and—"
"Kiss me," she said, blinking, and he frowned.
"What are y-"
"Just do it," she said, and pulled him into her, drawing his chin down to hers as her hands slipped into his robes. He gave her a perfunctory kiss, as requested, only momentarily distracted by the feel of her lips against his, warm and soft and a mix of foreign and familiar. It was just enough to taste the little hint of butterbeer that remained there, though oddly, they had barely even touched before she was yanking him adamantly against her, running her hands over his chest, his hips, and then his—fucking Christ, did she just—
"Jesus H Salazar fuck," he muttered into her mouth, "Granger, we're in public—"
"Found it," was all she said, and he tried not to scowl, taking hold of her hair to angle her gaze up towards him.
"Of course you found it," he hissed. "It's not exactly a secret it's there, is it?"
"Not that," she said, exasperated. She leaned on her toes, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him. Between the very intimate contact and the persisting heat of her—every inch of which he was keenly aware of, unable to prevent mapping her out in his mind—Draco was quickly losing track of what was happening. Remus, who'd already been tapping his foot impatiently from afar, was heading back towards them, having grown tired of waiting. "He's tracking you," Hermione whispered, "he's done it to me before, he must have put something in your pock-"
"You two have gotten even more repulsive than usual," Remus remarked, jolting them apart as he gave them a grim look of disapproval. "Couldn't this wait?"
"No, it couldn't," Draco said loftily. "Particularly as you were being so vastly unhelpful—"
"Unhelpful?" Remus echoed. "I doubt it. That doesn't sound like me at all."
"No, it really doesn't," came another voice, and then, "I personally find you very helpful, Remus."
"Ah, my pleasure," Remus replied, and before Draco could speak, Hermione's fingers tightened in his in the same moment a blindfold conjured itself over his eyes, the whole world swallowing him up and going dark.
Hermione's vision swam, blurred from being stunned and transported as the flickering bulb of a dimly-lit room came into view, refracting against the glow of a familiar face.
"You could have run, Hermione. I know you had time to sort it out. Why didn't you?"
Lilith's Robery and Wardrobe.
Ivander's House of Oddities.
Lysander's Produce and Herbs.
Yesteryear's Antiques.
Hermione had known who Remus was leaving the message for and why they were being tracked, and it was precisely the person she'd wanted to find.
"Hello again, Lily," Hermione said, struggling to sit up. She noticed Draco had come to before she had, but he'd had his hands bound behind his back, feet strapped to the chair he'd been placed in. Hermione, by contrast, was merely lying on a small cot. Her wand was gone; she could tell that without checking for it. Lily might not have found her a threat, but she still wasn't an idiot. "I take it you're the reason Remus was having us tracked?"
"Yes," Lily said, glancing over her shoulder at Remus, who was eyeing Draco. "Sorry. That's an old trick of Tom's I still use, but I assume you understand the need for secrecy. Remus can't exactly discuss me in the open."
"Fair enough," Hermione said groggily, rubbing her forehead. She caught sight of the beaded bag sitting on a small table beside the bed. "Oh," she remarked. "I see you took care of my purse."
She hoped it sounded innocent. The last thing she needed was for Remus and Lily to know it contained the Elder Wand and the invisibility cloak, and she breathed an internal sigh of relief that at least Draco wore the second Hallow around his neck, which was likely a place they wouldn't feel necessary to check.
"You keep a lot of books in there," Lily said drily, gesturing to the bag. "Girl like you should really have a library card. Easier."
"Just a bit of light reading," Hermione said. "Sentimental value."
She scanned both Lily and Remus, noting neither of them seemed to show signs of having found anything else of interest inside it. That was a relief.
"So," Lily said. "You wanted to find me, did you? What do you want?"
"Harry's looking for you," Hermione told her, and Lily blinked, evidently not having expected that. "Says he just wants to know his family. Of course, I'd like to stop Tom Riddle, personally," she said, "so I figured you and I might be able to find common ground on this one."
"I told you," Lily said, looking impatient. "You can't kill him."
"Why, because you made some sort of deal with him and Harry's collateral?" Hermione asked her. "Surely there's a way around that."
"Well, you're right and you're wrong," Lily said, "but either way, I'm holding onto my leverage. You can't have the wand, and neither can he. Not until all the pieces are in place."
"What pieces?" Hermione asked, and Lily glanced at Remus, who shrugged.
"You could tell her," he said. "It's not as if it'll do any harm. Or any good either, really."
"Untrue. It means she'll ask more questions," Lily said, "which I detest."
"I thought you two didn't know each other," Hermione said.
"We don't," they replied in unison, not bothering to look at her as they continued to silently argue.
In the absence of their attention, Hermione glanced at Draco, mouthing a small I'm sorry.
He gave what looked to be an uncomfortable shrug, which she took to mean Could be worse.
"There's not one deal," Lily eventually decided to explain, turning back to Hermione. "It's not one vow, and it's certainly not a matter of a single agreement between me and Tom. Like all things when it comes to him, it's not that simple."
Abruptly, Hermione was reminded of something Draco had suggested to her earlier: It's really not enough to simply win at someone else's game. You have to design the entire game yourself, and then round up some unwilling participants.
"Okay, so there's other people involved," Hermione determined slowly, considering it. "Obviously Narcissa is one. You're both part of it. Am I?"
"We think so," Remus said gruffly. "The diadem you transported for Tom was the fulfillment of a contract."
"Right." She'd been afraid of that. "So who else?"
"That's the question, isn't it?" Lily said. "In order to make sure Harry's safe I need to know who else is involved. Also, as a general rule, it's always good to be aware of pressure points, I find." She gave Hermione a wary glance before letting her attention flick to Draco. "I have a guess as to one of yours."
Hermione felt it best to neither confirm nor deny anything. "You don't need to use him against me, Lily. I'm already on your side, aren't I?"
"This is really more about us than it is about you," Remus informed her with a haughty sniff in Draco's direction. "Needless to say, his royal highness over here is hardly undeserving of some discomfort."
In response, Draco rolled his eyes, which Hermione knew Remus had no way of knowing was probably a gesture made in agreement.
"Why do the other players matter?" Hermione asked, turning to Lily. "So there's a network of people involved. So what?"
"Do you know much about vows between wizards?" Lily asked, not particularly kindly.
"I understand unbreakable vows, yes," Hermione said with a similar lack of patience. "Fairly straightforward concept. When you break one, you die."
"Anyone can make a vow like that," Lily said disapprovingly. "Not everything is so black and white. For example, some vows can be made with someone else's life at stake. All that's necessary, in some cases, is," she began, and paused for a moment. "Blood."
Hermione frowned. "Blood?"
"Yes. Mortal arts, dark arts, whatever you call it, it's all very delightfully morbid." Lily's tone was flat and resigned. "The point is, the subject of an unbreakable vow—if you want to call it that," she amended, "though a magical contract is probably just as good a term—doesn't have to be the two parties involved. It doesn't even have to be someone who's present." She paused again, clearing her throat. "A contract can bind itself to anything. To a person, to a life. To a bloodline."
"Yours," Hermione guessed quietly, and Lily nodded once.
"Mine," she confirmed. "If anyone lets anything happen to Tom, everyone linked to his network will suffer for it, including Harry. But," she added, mouth tightening, "equally problematic, in my view, is that the contract I made which puts Harry at risk isn't in my hands. I can't control it directly."
"So who does?" Hermione asked, glancing at Remus. "You?"
"Yes," Remus said. "Unfortunately."
"How?" Hermione asked, frowning. "If you'd never met before, then—?"
"The basic structure of Tom's network is, as you already know, dependent on the fulfillment of a favor," Lily said. "One agreement creates an open-ended vow, and each favor completed down the line closes a previous loop. Before Remus, I was the last person who'd made a deal with Tom," she explained, "which means my consequences are linked to Remus' actions."
"If I fail to hold up my end of the contract," Remus clarified, "Lily—and Harry, it seems—are the ones who will suffer for it."
"How do you know that?" Hermione asked, and in answer, Remus gave a stunningly incongruous laugh.
"Tom told me, of course," he said, quieting to a grimace. "When he took me in, he informed me that if I ever failed him, somewhere down the line it might eventually cost the life of someone I'd never known, and would likely never meet." The line of his mouth hardened. "I had no idea it was a mother and child. Or that I would, in fact, one day meet them."
"He must have some control over when the various consequences get triggered," Hermione said, turning to Lily with a frown. "Didn't Tom tell you he wouldn't touch Harry until he came of age?"
"Yes," Lily said. "And I suspect you're right. Though, it is rather in character for Tom Riddle to have control, isn't it?" she posed neutrally, and Hermione grimaced.
"But what about you, then?" she said. "Do your actions trigger… Narcissa's consequences?"
"No," Lily said, glancing at Draco. "Unfortunately, I don't think they do. For one thing, I've broken a deal by taking the Elder Wand, which is surely putting someone else's contract with Tom at risk," she pointed out, and Hermione frowned in agreement. "If it were Narcissa's, she'd have done something about it by now, being rather incentivized to protect her end of the contract."
"What about me?" Hermione asked, blinking. "If I closed someone else's loop—"
"You must have," Remus said. "I'm not sure he even needed the diadem he sent you off to fetch. More importantly, I think," he said slowly, exchanging a glance with Lily, "he must have needed to properly endanger someone else by making sure their consequences were tied to your actions."
"But—" She inhaled sharply. "But that means if he asks me to do something and I refuse, someone I don't know could die?"
"Yes," Lily said.
"And if you don't give him the wand," Hermione said slowly, "someone else…?"
"Also dead," Remus confirmed, eyeing his sharpened claws. "Clock is ticking, obviously. He's not concerned with me at the moment," he said, clearing his throat, "but as soon as he sorts out how he can use me, I'm going to have to do whatever he asks to make sure Harry remains unharmed."
"Quite a favor for someone you don't know," Hermione remarked, glancing between him and Lily.
Remus shrugged. "I'm a werewolf, not a monster," he said, and Lily rolled her eyes but seemed vaguely appreciative, at least in some non-obvious way.
"Well, it really is a game, then," Hermione said to herself, shaking her head before looking up at Lily. "And the only way you can win is if he dissolves the vow you made, which seems fairly unlikely—or… what? All the players find a way to turn on him?"
"Yes," Lily said. "Essentially. And you're right," she added with a grimace. "Narcissa's made it clear he's perfectly willing to continue endangering Harry with or without the wand, so it'll have to be the second option. Which, of course, I can't guarantee is even a possibility," she clarified, "unless I know who all the players are."
"Or at least which ones are disposable," Remus said with an unnerving smile, winking at Draco, who looked rightfully perturbed.
"You really think Narcissa will give you that information?" Hermione asked doubtfully, and Lily and Remus exchanged another loaded glance.
"Well," Lily said, clearing her throat. "I didn't exactly say I'd ask nicely."
"Oh, no," Hermione with a sinking feeling, glancing askance.
There must have always been a reason she was sitting idly on a bed, however scratchy the sheets might have been, while Draco was tied to chair. It wasn't because he was more dangerous, or more annoying. It was because he was worth more to them.
They hadn't actually needed Hermione, even if they'd done her the favor of giving her some answers. It was Draco they'd come for, and Lily shrugged, confirming Hermione's suspicions.
"Yes, Hermione," she said. "Narcissa already knows I have her son."
Draco had seen this coming sooner than Hermione had, given that he knew more about his mother's involvement in their universe than she did. Unfortunately, while bondage was not the worst thing that had ever happened to him, it did mean he was unable to point this out with any conceivable quickness. By the time they all turned at the sound of stiletto-heeled footsteps, Remus quickly vanishing from sight, Draco wished he could have been given the advantage of speaking.
They didn't have a plan for this, and if there was one person he trusted to outsmart everyone else in the room, it certainly wasn't Lord Voldemort. It wasn't even Tom Riddle.
It was, however, his mother.
Narcissa Malfoy was very different here, though not really. She was very like she'd been while Draco had been younger, dressed with meticulous care and poised to perfection rather than the shell of herself she'd been since the Dark Lord had occupied their house.
"Lily," Narcissa said, sparing her a loathing glance as Lily lifted her wand, wordlessly threatening. "I really thought we might get along without stooping to such unsavory measures. Do you have the Elder Wand?"
"Nope," Lily said, which didn't seem to surprise Narcissa in the slightest. "I do have something else, though," she said, gesturing to where Draco sat in the corner.
Narcissa didn't speak a word to Hermione, merely letting her gaze skip disinterestedly over her, though she took a few steps towards Draco, lowering to look at him.
Her blue eyes met his, and—
Nothing. No sense of concern, no trace of worry. Worse, a smile twitched at her lips.
She knows, he thought with a sinking feeling. She knows I'm not hers.
"Well," Narcissa said, straightening. "You can't really expect me to be thrilled you've kidnapped my son."
"It's really more of an abduction," Lily said, her wand aimed lazily at Narcissa's head.
Fuck, Draco thought, trying to signal to Hermione that Narcissa was clearly planning to use him as leverage of her own. There was a reason she hadn't insisted the restraints be removed, and it was clearly because she didn't want him to reveal he wasn't actually valuable to her. Granger, he thought urgently, watching her gaze follow Narcissa with suspicion, are you seeing this?
"Well," Narcissa said, her tone flat and disinterested. "I told you, I can't do anything about the vow you made, Lily. And I certainly don't know what I'm supposed to do about you," she muttered to Hermione, pursing her lips. "You're a little menace, aren't you? Well. At least I know you won't let anything happen to my son." She turned back to Lily, considering her for a second. "What's this about?"
"I told you. I want the names of the other people in Tom's game," Lily said. "If you can't convince him to undo the vow I made, then I want the whole thing brought down. I'll bring it down myself."
"Ha," Narcissa said succinctly. "Well, lovely thought, Lily, but I'm not going to tell you anything. Certainly not without the wand."
"Not even to save your son?" Lily asked, lifting a brow. "I hate to critique your parenting, Narcissa, but I really don't care for him. He's much more costly to my sensibilities unharmed, in my view."
Draco, who'd only ever had his own enemies before, deeply resented his other half for ostensibly doubling the number.
"Please. You wouldn't touch him," Narcissa said impatiently, sparing a bored glance at Lily. "You're much softer than you think, and even if you weren't, I'd have no answers for you. Tom has his secrets, even from me," she reminded Lily. "I have no idea who else is involved."
"Even if you don't have answers now, we both know you could get them," Lily said flatly. "And I'm not returning Draco until you do."
"Mm. Well." Narcissa gave Draco a thorough glance, apparently weighing his value. "May I at least embrace my own son?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at Lily, who shrugged, apparently willing to permit it.
"Don't try anything," Lily warned, twisting her wand pointedly in the air between them.
"Lily," Narcissa sighed, shaking her head. "You really underestimate my sense of fair play."
"Never heard of it," Lily replied.
"Clearly," Narcissa agreed, and turned away.
Draco, who had never wanted to be touched less by anyone in his life, stiffened slightly as this universe's Narcissa Malfoy leaned towards him, resting her hands briefly on his shoulders before turning her head to kiss his cheek.
"I don't know who you are or how you're doing this," Narcissa murmured in his ear, "but if you do anything to harm my son, I will personally remove each of your organs while you watch. Oh, and the person they're looking for?" she said, her lips stretching into a smile against his cheek. "You're not going to find them, because they're not here."
Draco shuddered, and she pulled away, taking a step back.
"Don't worry, darling," she told Draco soothingly, giving him an unnerving smile. "Mother will find you."
Then, with a last venomous look at Lily, Narcissa disappeared with a crack.
a/n: FYI, in answer to what I had hoped would be more obvious: We can't cover the events of the Potterverse because neither of the story's narrators are presently in the Potterverse. We'll be revisiting it, of course. Dedicated to fullyvisible!
