A Hundred Storms
Chapter Fifteen: Shake it Out
And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't
So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road
And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope
It's a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat
- Shake it Out, by Florence + the Machiene
"I think my problem is actually our problem," Hermione said through gritted teeth. "I don't think the Maliceptor is actually after me. I think it's after the both of us."
Draco looked at her for a moment through narrowed eyes, then relaxed into a weak grimace. "Well," he said. "Took you long enough to figure that one out."
Hermione's eyes widened in alarm and she instinctively reached for her wand inside her robe. Before she could reach it Draco's hand shot out and grabbed her arm.
"Listen," he said sharply. "It's not what you think."
"What do I think?" Hermione asked, a note of rage in her voice.
"You think I have something to do with it," Draco responded smoothly.
"Do you?" she demanded.
"Not in the way you're thinking," Draco answered firmly. "I am sure you have come to the same conclusion I have."
"Let me go," Hermione said in a low voice.
"Do you promise to listen before pointing that wand again?" he asked.
"I'll listen, then point," Hermione replied.
Draco let go of her arm. "Good enough," he said. "Listen. Firewhisky and I were talking last night. Why hasn't the Maliceptor attacked you while you were alone, when someone wasn't around to help? If it wanted to do you in, then it could easily ambush you on the way to the village or in the hall. It only came out when you were with me. That led me to start thinking maybe it wasn't after you at all. Maybe I've been the target all along. That didn't make sense, however, for the same reason. If it wanted to damage me, then it would have attacked me before you warded the room, or again in the halls, Hogsmeade, any other time. It only comes when we've been together. Why do you think that is?"
"Why do you think that is?" Hermione shot back angrily. She continued to glare but returned her wand to her pocket.
"I think it's a Death Eater," Draco said quietly, ignoring her tone. "Who else would have a grudge against the both of us? You for obvious reason, and myself for getting away with nothing more than a slap on the wrist. Doesn't it make sense?"
Hermione nodded slowly, but her body was still rigid, waiting for action. "Do you have any ideas?" she asked.
Draco shook his head. "All the Death Eaters I know have been accounted for. They're all either dead or in Azkaban. That doesn't mean that's all there is, however. There were plenty of followers who were not invited to the inner circle, even more whom my father never allowed in our home. That's where I met most of them."
"Essentially a needle in a haystack," Hermione murmured, more to herself than to him.
"When did I say anything about a needle?" Draco asked, bewildered. "We're talking about people."
Hermione grinned weakly. "It's a Muggle phrase, I suppose you've never heard it."
"Strange." Draco eyed her warily.
Hermione ignored him. "So, you agree? It's not just my imagination that the thing is after both of us?" She bit her bottom lip and looked cautiously around the room, as though the thing in question was listening in on their conversation.
"I don't think it's your imagination," Draco confirmed gloomily. "I think we both have a real problem on our hands. When will the potion be ready?"
"I told you," Hermione snapped. "Not for another week."
"No need to get your knickers in a twist, Granger," Draco said angrily. "You're the one who burst in on me, can't expect a bloke to be running with all facilities right away."
Hermione sighed. "You're right," she admitted. "I'm sorry. It was terribly rude of me. I just needed to bounce that idea off of someone. In all honesty it was something Ginny said as a joke that made me wonder if it were truly the case or not."
"You talked to the she-Weasley about this?" Draco asked.
"Of course," Hermione retorted. "Even if I didn't want to, Harry already spilled the beans. They tell each other everything."
"Of course they do," Draco said in a tone Hermione didn't recognize.
"Do you take offense?" Hermione asked.
"I think your personal business is private," Draco said tartly.
"I suppose it's our business now," Hermione mused.
"Even more fuel for me to want it to stay between us, then," Draco confirmed.
"Between us?" Hermione's eyebrows drew together. "What 'us' is there? I make the potion, the person behind it turns colors, I shoo him or her off to McGonagall and call it a day."
"You believe it will be that easy?" Draco asked her, dubious.
"I don't see why not," Hermione answered easily. "My plans usually work out."
"Like Polyjuicing my mates," Draco replied.
"Like looking for answers in obvious places," Hermione corrected him. "It was a good plan. A plan that cleared you, I might add."
"I was never guilty to begin with," Draco said. "So what good did that do you?"
"It was enough," Hermione said slowly. "It was...nice, I suppose, to know that although someone wanted to wipe out Muggle-borns, at least it wasn't my fellow classmate. My fellow twelve-year-old classmate, I should say."
Draco grimaced. "Tell me honestly, Granger," he asked. "Did you really think I was the one behind it?"
Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment, calculating her words. "Did I think you were behind it?" she mused. "No, looking back, I don't think I really believed it was you. I thought you able to if you had the right knowledge, but not capable of that sort of magic at twelve."
"That doesn't say much about me," Draco pointed out.
"I learned what Mudbood meant that year," Hermione replied conversationally.
"Stop saying that word," Draco demanded.
"Why?" Hermione asked him and started to wander the room, catching her reflection in the mirror over the dresser. "I think I've earned the right. I battle my inner demons every day for their pound of flesh, but I always win. I'm proud of who I am now, but back then I was a frightened little girl who was so terribly confused as to why this other little boy hated me so. Little girls have no business learning what hate is," Hermione paused and caught Draco's gaze in the reflection of the mirror. "Nor do little boys, for that matter," she concluded. She turned to face him. "I want you to know this so you'll understand. I don't bear any grudge against you, not anymore, but you still need to know what you did, the lives you affected."
"What will it take to prove to you I've changed?" Draco asked angrily.
"Don't teach your children how to hate," Hermione answered simply. "If you do have children, they'll be some of the most influential in their year. You're going to wipe off the black mark on your family name that your father created. Teach them respect and kindness. That's how I'll know."
Draco frowned. "And what if I decide not to procreate?" he asked stiffly.
Hermione smiled and shrugged. "We'll see then, I suppose," she replied.
Draco didn't know what to say to that. He knew he should probably be miffed that Granger was walking about his room with her holier-than-thou cloak wrapped securely around her narrow frame, but he just couldn't muster up the emotion just then. Maybe it was the pepperup potion.
"Alright then," Hermione said after a long pause. "I need to go check on the potion. It's our only plan now."
"I'll go with you," Draco said, moving towards the door.
Hermione stepped in his path. "Are you daft?" she asked, bewildered. "We just came to the conclusion that we're only in danger of being attacked when we're together, and now you want to do just that?"
"There is no proof that is the case," Draco said patiently. "If it isn't after both of us, then chances are it's just after you. It would be incredibly convenient for you to have an unfortunate accident in a neglected potions room, don't you agree?"
Hermione bit her lip. She realized, maybe only that minute, that she didn't want him there in the sense that she really, actually, maybe did want him there. A lot. More than she should. That was not the natural order of things and not the greatest of ideas in any sense of the word.
"It's really not a good idea," Hermione faltered.
Draco sprung. "It will be fine," he said, sensing her giving way. "If it comes back, I'll smack it around with another mirror."
"Do you have a mirror heavy enough-where? In your pocket?" Hermione looked at him.
Draco shrugged and walked over to the mirror that did the job before. A quick wave of his wand and the massive mirror fit in the palm of his hand. He slipped it into his trouser pocket.
"I do now," he said with a smirk.
Hermione couldn't think of anything to say, so she settled for an expression of bemusement and beckoned Draco to wait while she popped into her room. She emerged a minute later holding a hard and well-worn book.
"That's our grade six potions book," Draco pointed out the obvious as they made their way into the corridors.
"Of course it is," Hermione replied.
"Why are you bringing it?" he asked.
Hermione looked up at him. "Where did you think I got the potion we're brewing?"
Draco looked puzzled. "I don't remember discussing it in class."
"We never discussed it," Hermione said. "It's one of the alternative potions. The professor usually switches them up for every year. It would be rather redundant if the same one was done over and over again, not to mention the amount of cheating that could inspire."
"And you just decided to do some light reading one night and remembered it?" Draco asked incredulously.
"I have always made it a point to carefully memorize each text," Hermione sniffed. "What good is all the knowledge in these books if they are never recalled for practical use?"
"Umbridge would have had a few words to say about that." Draco's mouth twitched with distaste.
Hermione glared ahead. "That was the only hearing I sat through that I enjoyed," she said fiercely. "She deserved everything that was given to her and so much more,"
"I didn't know you sat in on that," Draco said with surprise. "That was one of the ones right after mine."
"I testified during it," Hermione explained. "She had a lot to answer for, more than a lot of the Death Eaters on trial, actually. That woman was pure evil. Not completely mad like Bellatrix, but a quiet, self-secure kind of evil that needed to be locked up forever."
"Well, then," Draco said mildly. "Tell us how you really feel, Granger."
"You don't understand." Hermione's voice rose a pitch. "I saw how the Ministry, under her care, rounded up all the Muggle-born witches and wizards like cattle. Like farm animals! Like they were not even people and accused them of stealing their wands from pure-bloods. I would have been there if I hadn't run off with Harry and Ron. It was sick. That loathsome woman deserves to rot in Azkaban for what she did. The only pity is that she doesn't have the Dementors hovering about. She deserves worse."
Draco was stunned. He had never heard Hermione ever utter anything so venomous, not even when it was directed at him.
"Let it go, Granger," he said softly. "Shake it off. There's no good in letting that kind of hatred fester inside of you like that."
Hermione stopped and leaned heavily against one of the stone walls in a small alcove. They were in the dungeons now and students avoided the potions corridor unless they needed to be there for class. They were entirely alone.
"You're right, of course," Hermione said and leaned her head back against the stone support, her eyes closed. She sagged a little as though the words she spoke had put a weight on her shoulders. "Harry said the same thing. I just can't help it. She abused her power so meticulously that I feel like she needs it back ten-fold. She was a teacher who betrayed her students, a government official that betrayed her people. Watching justice in that courtroom that day was one of the most vindicating moments of my life."
"That's called power," Draco said softly. "You took it from her and then used it against her. Why do you think we Slytherins love it so much? It's one of the most liberating feelings in the world."
Hermione's eyes snapped open. "Draco Malfoy," she said, "did you just inadvertently call me Slytherin?"
Draco narrowed his eyes. "I suppose you have your...Slytherin-like qualities, Granger," he said.
Hermione sighed again. "Wouldn't it be nice if there was just one house?" she asked. "One house where bravery, cunning, wisdom, and compassion worked hand in hand?"
"What are you talking about?" Draco looked at her warily.
"Hogwarts," Hermione pushed herself off the wall and waved her hand in the air dismissively. "Hogwarts houses. They all care about certain attributes. Why can't we focus on the ones that matter?"
"I'm not following," Draco said through gritted teeth.
Hermione led the way to their potions room. "I mean, bravery needs cunning in order to survive. Cunning needs wisdom to keep cunning from turning homicidal. Wisdom needs compassion to know the impact it will have on human lives. Compassion needs bravery in order to amount to anything. It all comes full circle. Why don't we focus on house strengths rather than differences?"
"To be honest," Draco said slowly, "I never thought about it quite in that way."
Hermione quickened her pace and entered the room where the potion was gurgling happily. "That's the problem," she said. "We all focus on our identity as far as houses go. I can say you are very Slytherin, like an adjective, like that is what defines you, but you're more than your house, aren't you? You're brave, too. I remember the Sorting Hat barely touched your head when it was your turn, but when I wore the Sorting Hat it told me I would do well in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. It eventually settled on Gryffindor, obviously, but doesn't that make you wonder? The Sorting Hat told Harry he would do well in Slytherin, but he asked to be put in anything but Slytherin. Think of how different things would have been had I been assigned to Ravenclaw and Harry Slytherin. The two of you might have been friends."
"I didn't know that," Draco didn't have anything else to say.
"Well, it's not common knowledge," Hermione replied flippantly. "Harry was scared shirtless that he would turn out just like Voldemort because of Slytherin's influence. That's the problem though, isn't it? Your house isn't evil, it simply values some attributes the other houses neglect to consider."
"That might be the kindest thing you've ever said to me, Granger," Draco said with a raised eyebrow. "What do you want?"
Hermione couldn't help but grin. "Gryffindor, remember? I don't have to want anything in order to be nice."
"Everyone wants something," Draco insisted.
"I have everything I want," Hermione said sharply. "I have my friends, my freedom, Voldemort is gone and the war is over, and..." she paused and looked at him steadily. "I have Hogwarts, thanks to you."
"You're welcome, you know," Draco replied, not breaking her gaze.
"I have that, too." Hermione said, meeting his gaze. Then she broke it.