A Hundred Storms
Chapter Sixteen: I Tried so Hard
I've put my trust in you
Pushed as far as I can go
For all this
There's only one thing you should know
I tried so hard, and got so far
But in the end
It doesn't even matter
- In The End, by Linkin Park
Hermione broke the gaze before it could become too intense or awkward. Draco had the most...terrifying gaze she had ever encountered.
Maybe terrifying wasn't the right word. Brutal? Searching? For a moment she longed for the warmth of Harry's green eyes or the friendliness of Ron's blue. The grey that looked back at her felt like they could stare right into her innermost thoughts. Had she not been perfectly confident in her own skill, she would have thought Draco was putting the occlumency whammy on her.
She turned towards the door of the cluster of potions classrooms and then faced him again, her hand on the door.
"I really don't think we being here together is a good idea, Malfoy," Hermione said in a neutral tone.
"I'm prepared," Draco patted the pocket in his robe where the lump of the once-oversized mirror now rested. "Besides, if you're pouring over a cauldron how can you be on your guard?"
He had a point. Hermione couldn't think of a reasonable argument, so she simply entered the room without a backward glace.
Draco followed behind her and wondered briefly why he was acting like an obedient puppy. Malfoys did not go trailing after mudbloods...muggle borns. They didn't trail after anyone. The lump in his pocket reminded him that the danger they faced was very real, and whether or not it was after both of them or after one of them it just didn't matter.
It appeared that he was involved, regardless of the consequences.
Hermione practically sprinted to the unused classroom that hid her potion. Anxiously she peered into the cauldron and let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. The potion was a perfect pale lavender, the shade of something lovely and natural.
Draco sniffed at the air. "Foul," he hissed under his breath, hiding his nose behind the sleeve of his robe.
Hermione chocked back a giggle. Color aside, the potion was not lovely. It was developed as a trace for malicious magic and the smell would tip even a first year off that it was not something to be toyed with.
"I warded the room." Hermione said, as thought that would appease the disgruntled blonde.
"Of course you did." Draco's muffled voice came from behind his sleeve.
Hermione turned and arched an eyebrow in his direction. "And what is that supposed to mean?" She demanded.
Draco didn't take his face away from behind his robe sleeve. "Nothing, nothing, carry on. Hurry up."
"Oh honestly!" Hermione groaned. She flicked her wand to the four corners of her room and then to the ceiling and floor. "There. All better you oversized child."
Draco narrowed his eyes, which looked oddly comical behind the black of his robe. Hesitantly he lowered the fabric and took a tentative sniff.
"The smell?"
"It's a simple air freshening charm," Hermione didn't try to hide the roll of her eyes. "Mrs. Weasley taught me."
"How kind," Draco said sarcastically.
"Would you rather smell the potion again?" Hermione demanded.
"No, no," Draco muttered mutinously "Carry on."
Hermione glared and then turned back to the cauldron. She was pleased at the progress, and after adding a few key ingredients she was ready to leave fifteen minutes later.
"That's it?" Draco asked.
"It's not a complicated potion, Malfoy," Hermione said. "It just takes a little time. Nothing I cannot handle."
"Well that's obvious," Draco said evasively.
"Is there something you would like to share?" Hermione rounded on him.
"Not particularly," Draco said, surprised at Hermione's small outburst.
"Then stop being an raging prat." Hermione huffed and continued walking.
"I'm not sure if you noticed," Draco said in a low drawl. "But I've always been a raging prat. Perhaps you need to stop being so uptight."
Hermione didn't break her pace. "In case you haven't noticed, Malfoy, I have always been uptight. You're the one forcing his company, why don't you just go away?"
"It's much too late for that, now," Draco said in a low whisper, still easily keeping up with Hermione's shorter stride.
His voice was so low Hermione barely caught it. "What?" She asked, not sure she heard correctly.
"I said hurry up," replied Draco. "No use in courting disaster."
"I'm already practically jogging," Hermione said incredulously.
"Right then." Draco mumbled. They continued their fast pace in silence.
"No ghoul." He said after a minute.
"Poltergeist." Hermione corrected automatically.
"Poltergeist," Draco agreed amicably. "Perhaps we didn't need the mirror after all."
Hermione stopped suddenly enough that Draco had to sidestep quickly in oder to keep from plowing her over.
"Did you really just say that?" Hermione demanded, her eyes flashing angrily.
"What?" Draco asked, bewildered.
"Merlin!" Hermione raged, and then looked down the hall. "Get the damn mirror out!"
Draco's hand shot to his pocket without argument. The moment his fingers clasped around the small object he saw the light at the end of the empty corridor.
"I thought purebloods were supposed to be smarter about this sort of thing," Hermione glowered under hr breath. Her wand was out, and she was focused on the shape that was hurtling towards her.
Draco watched with horrified fascination as Hermione braced herself for a spell. Then he got a good look at the thing that was bouncing off the walls on its way.
"Wait, stop." Draco said, and relaxed a margin.
"What?" Hermione asked, not looking away.
"It's Peeves, Granger. Relax."
Hermione never thought she would hear those words used in context of one another, but as she squinted her eyes and took a closer look she realized he was right. Peeves was doing his best pinball impression and didn't appear to be holding anything heavy that could be dropped on their heads.
"Peeves," she breathed out quietly, her wand arm falling to her side. "Thank Merlin."
"Something like that," Draco said softly.
"Peeves?" Hermione asked in a louder voice. "Peeves! Won't you please come here? I would very much like to speak with you."
Suddenly the ghostly figure was hovering right at eye level with Draco, and Hermione had to tilt her head slightly to look up at him.
"Peevsies does not come when the ickle children call," Peeves admonished Hermione.
"I suppose it is quite excellent indeed that we are not children anymore," Hermione said solemnly.
Peeves look mollified for a moment, then his translucent mouth stretched into a wide grin that didn't quite fit his face. "As that is true, little Gryffindor heroine. What is the great heroine doing wandering the castle with the Slytherin snake?"
Peeves had floated down to be closer to eye level with Hermione and ignored the glare that Draco was directing his way.
"I was hoping you might be able to help me, Peeves," Hermione said in her best bashful, courteous voice.
"That depends on how much work I might have to do," Peeves said seriously, looking at her with curious eyes. Students learned within their first few days of Hogwarts that asking Peeves for help only led to mayhem.
"I was wondering," Hermione said and cast her eyes down, looking frail and hopeless. "If you noticed something new in the castle." When she lifted her head her brown eyes appeared larger, wide and scared and innocent in her thin face.
"What sort of new?" Peeves asked tentatively. Even for Peeves the Poltergeist, trying to lash out against the brave war veteran was a bit beyond him. For now at least.
"I think there's a new poltergeist in the castle, Peeves," Hermione said seriously. "Only not fun like you. Bad."
"Mal?" Peeves began turning in the air counter-clockwise while he spoke. "There's a Mal here, yes, yes. I noticed it while it was putting itself back together."
"You saw it?" Hermione asked cautiously.
"Felt it," Peeves said, then stopped turning abruptly. "The great wizards and witches of old only allowed my presence in Hogwarts. The other creature is not welcome."
"I think it's trying to hurt me," Hermione said, putting a slight quaver to her voice.
"No thinking needed, Granger," Draco burst in, bewildered at her expressions.
Peeves narrowed his eyes at Draco. "You should be watching this one," Peeves said with a sniff. "If I didn't know better I would tell you he's the one you should be tailing."
Hermione's eyes grew round and looked at Draco suspiciously. "Why do you say that, Peeves?"
Peeves blew out a loud raspberry. "Pity he's too old," he said doubtfully. "Can't crank out the emotions like we need."
"Do you mean to say the Mal was made here, in the castle?" Hermione asked quietly.
"Of course, silly nilly. Do you know nothing of the castle? No magic in. No magic out. Rule as old as time. Or as old as the castle." Peeves looked proud of himself, giving Hermione Granger a piece of knowledge she hadn't yet stumbled upon on her own.
Hermione's eyes really did go wide- this time with surprise. "No one can cast a spell form the outside of the castle meant for the inside, and vice versa? That narrows things down considerably."
Peeves began turning summersaults in the air, gaining momentum with each flip.
"Don't suppose you've seen any deatheaters wandering around, have you?" Draco asked flippitantly.
Peeves stopped his acrobats halfway through a turn, so that he was glaring at them while upside-down.
"Only you, young Master Malfoy," Peeves spat Draco's surname like a oath and without another word he shot past them up the hall, a high pitched whistle screeching in his wake.
"Lovely," Hermione groaned and glared at Draco. "Just go and tell the only one who might have any information to just bugger off, why don't you?"
"Peeves is a twit," Draco said dismissively. "Besides, what were you doing back there anyway? Were you flirting with a poltergeist?"
Much to Draco's surprise, Hermione grinned sheepishly. "I suppose, a bit," she said with a small snicker. "It's just so much easier than picking a fight or trying to trick him into telling me what I need to know."
"But you did trick him," Draco said, shaking his head. "I've never seen Peeves so...civilized."
"Ah, well," Hermione said, straightening up. "What's the point in having feminine wiles if you cannot use them?"
"Slytherin." Draco said mildly.
Hermione pondered his tone for a moment and then smiled a little and shook her head in agreement. "I suppose I cannot deny it. That was very Slytherin of me."
"Mmmhmm," Draco mused. "Wonder what Peeves meant?"
Hermione paused and looked at him. "He said that whoever is behind the maliceptor is inside Hogwarts." She said with wide eyes. "That narrows things down, but nothing good can come from it. We either have a rouge deatheater who managed to not only avoid being outed during the trials, or we have a child who is clearly not in a healthy frame of mind. I can't decide which theory I detest more."
"What if it's not a real deatheater?" Draco asked.
"What do you mean?" Hermione smirked. "As opposed to a make-believe one?"
"Quit being obtuse," Draco snapped. "I mean what if it's someone with deatheater sympathies who never got the mark? The-er, Voldemort was meticulous in his selection of those who actually got the mark, but didn't hesitate to let his general followers do some dirty work now and then."
Hermione's mouth dropped open. "You mean to tell me," she said, aghast, "That there are more people out there who are deatheaters in every sense of the word but lacking the official tattoo? Why didn't you mention this before? Say maybe during the trials?"
Hermione's voice was about to reach octaves only canines could hear, and Draco put a hand up to cut her off.
"The Ministry knows about followers who never got the mark, Granger. Those are usually the first people that get ratted out. The only problem is that the other non-make believe deatheaters had no idea how many there were or who all was in sympathy with the cause. It's a convenient insurance policy. After the first war many people involved with Voldemort's activities were able to slip back into society undetected, while those with the mark could still be called upon his return. It worked beautifully, if you recall."
Hermione continued to stare at him, her mind rapidly turning the information around in her mind like dough being kneaded. The thought of other people out there, still spreading propaganda and still causing fear and strife in a world she fought so hard to protect just wouldn't process.
"It was all for nothing, then." Hermione closed her eyes and breathed deep.
"What?" Draco asked.
"Everything," Hermione said softly. "What good was any of it when they just won't go away? Like cockroaches they're just keep coming back-" Hermione stopped and took another breath. "Chop off their heads and they still continue to live. Cut off their power source and there's still a dozen more to come charging in. We managed to unseat a tyrant and left an unknown amount of followers leaderless and pissed off. What good was any of it?"
Draco was alarmed. This was the sort of talk Hermione came back to Hogwarts mumbling about. In the past few days she had ridden highs and lows but seemed to be slowly reverting back to her old, annoying self. The defeatist attitude was uncharacteristic and unsettling on Hermione Granger.
"Calm down," Draco said sharply.
"Calm down?" Hermione all but shrieked. "Calm down?"
Draco winced and throw both his hands up in a mock surrender. He forgot one of the most sacred of rules of mankind: don't tell a woman to calm down unless you want the exact opposite to happen.
"I just meant you don't want anyone to think something's wrong, do you?" Draco said quickly.
Hermione is a reasonable woman. She immediately closed her mouth against whatever she was about to shout at him and then, after a moment, nodded.
"This is not good," she said in a much milder, yet strained tone of voice.
"We don't know anything for sure, Granger." Draco said, relieved at the calm turn of the conversation.
"Nothing good can come from this," Hermione said again. "This will not end well. There's someone inside Hogwarts trying to hurt one or both of us. What if someone else gets hurt in the meantime"
"Always a Gryffindor," Draco said sarcastically. "Now. Use that logical head of yours. It's either a student or former student, can we make that assumption?"
"I suppose," Hermione agreed. "I highly doubt someone who did not spend seven years of their life could navigate through the front door, let alone anywhere private enough to create this kind of magic. That is if it isn't a current student."
"Right," Draco agreed. "Now let's focus on the deatheater angle, then concentrate on the student theory. If someone is practicing sorcery on purpose they will need an incredibly secluded and private place to work. Breaking the concentration of a summoning spell when you're dealing with spirits is exponentially more dangerous than trying to summon your quill from across the room. Where in Hogwarts is there that kind of privacy?" Draco mused for a moment. "Somewhere few people know about and those that do don't go visiting for a quick snog? The library and Astronomy tower are out of the question, they both have private quarters but still have a lot of student activity, we-"
Draco cut off mid sentence when he saw the look on Hermione's face. "What?" He asked, irritated.
"Malfoy," Hermione said as though talking to a slow child. "Where in Hogwarts is there enough privacy to do whatever you wish, keeps people out who don't want the same thing as you, and provides you with everything you need to accomplish what you want most?"
They Slytherin and Gryffindor locked eyes for scarce seconds before simultaneously shooting off in the direction of the seventh floor corridor.