A/N: Thanks to all of you who helped me break 1,000 - I'd say we definitely did that! (And for your lovely long reviews - we authors love them, seriously.) And thanks to Zoe Russle for making some sweet Reverse fanart... you can see it on her tumbr page! Finally, note to miel04: the first scene with Draco and his mum and the second of him being attacked in that house took place at very different times in his life. Sorry if that wasn't clear!
Scars
Pansy let out a horrified gasp. "Is that…?"
Holy hell.
Hermione swiftly transfigured the map into a hairbrush and in the same motion shrunk the Universe A knapsack to the size of a near-invisible pinpoint as Pansy and Draco jumped up from her bed. What would My do, what would My do…?
"Take off your shirt!" Draco suddenly hissed, already removing his own.
Hermione stared at him blankly. "What?"
He raised his eyebrows as if the answer was obvious, but discernible panic was in his eyes. "I'm your new House-Wizard, aren't I? Wouldn't you likely be using me?"
Her mind swiftly processed the disturbing logic of that alibi. Within a second she'd turned away from him, vanishing her nightshirt and the sweatshirt he'd dropped on the floor so she was only wearing a bra and the pair of shorts she'd slept in. Quickly, she thought about everything she knew about Lily Evans, which quite honestly was unacceptably little:
Brilliant.
Dangerous.
Second most powerful person in the entire bloody Sovereignty.
And somehow, inexplicably… her mother. That meant they had to have some kind of connection, didn't it?
She began to run through a story in her head, swiftly repeating it over and over as she prepared herself to use everything she'd ever learned about Occlumency.
Just then, the sound of heeled shoes began to click on the finished wooden stairs leading up to her room. The footsteps were swift yet deliberate, and Hermione felt each of them as if they were individually stabbing into her own body.
"Massage!" she hissed frantically, pulling Draco after her onto the bed as she saw Pansy dart into the closet and pull the door mostly shut.
Hermione plopped flat on her stomach, burying the right side of her face into her comforter so her head faced away from her door, her heart pounding so hard she was certain it was audible to all of Scotland. Just as swiftly, the bed lilted to the left as Draco knelt beside her, cold, trembling hands hesitantly touching her skin.
Oh dear god, please let me be convincing, please let me be convincing…
Her door opened with such force it collided loudly with the bureau beside it.
A burst of panicked adrenaline exploded through her system.
Adopted mother or not, it was very clear from her entrance that Lily Evans was not pleased.
The heavily heeled footsteps entered the room, and Hermione fought not to wince again when Draco's knuckles abruptly pressed down hard into her back.
"Hermione Granger Evans. What are you doing with that filth of a Fusty?"
The throaty female voice was at once smooth, deadly, and familiar. It took Hermione only a second to recognize it as that of the perilously perceptive woman who'd emerged from Lucius Malfoy's prison with McGonagall.
A chill of pure dread shot down her spine before Draco began to knead it harder.
Somehow, the rhythm of his motions and touch inexplicably helped to calm her.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. She doesn't know you're a fake; how could anyone ever expect that? Just be My.
"Mmmmm…" Hermione let out a long sigh of satisfaction without turning to look toward the voice, slowly stretching her arms above her head toward the headboard. "Enjoying Ronáld's nauseatingly repulsive House-Wizard so I can shove it in his face, obviously." She sniggered. "Really, do you think I would let a Fusty touch me otherwise?"
She let her arms drop back to the bed and held her breath, clenching her fingers to keep them from shaking.
The shoes clicked closer.
"I am not amused, nor should you be. Sit up. Look at me. And you—"
The weight of Draco's hands vanished from her back, as if he'd sat up, frozen. Then Hermione felt more than saw a spell silently cast, and she watched in horror as he slammed into the wall alongside her bedroom windows. He crumpled to the floor, his eyes closed. Something twisted inside her, and she again reminded herself to breathe.
"Seriously?" she exclaimed dramatically, forcing as much irritation into the one word as she could. "That disgusting louse was finally getting the hang of it!"
She steeled herself, forced all thought from her mind except the ones directly in front of her, and rolled her head to face the direction of Lily Evans.
A stunningly beautiful woman stared back down at her. She stood coolly beside Hermione's dresser, her arms crossed, wand hanging casually from between her index and middle fingers, wearing leather boots, skin-tight black designer trousers, a fitted silk top with a ruffled, v-cut neck and a tailored inky black robe that seemed to at once absorb and reflect the early morning light. Deep red hair tumbled over one shoulder and down her back in large, voluminous curls as perfect as My's.
She looked thoroughly unimpressed.
"Perhaps your most recent illicit activities have left you hearing impaired," she said, her tone as slow and sensuous as it was caustic, successfully embodying every trait that Hermione had awkwardly tried to fake as her Universe B counterpart. "Did you not hear a thing I just said?"
Illicit activi—? Oh god.
If Lily still thought she was My — which she seemed to — then Hermione knew without a doubt exactly why she was here.
But she had obtained Draco completely legally!
Hermione automatically opened her mouth to whine... and blanked completely. What should she call her? Mum? Mother? Lily? Lady Evans?
One uncharacteristic word could destroy everything…
She decided to skip a title before she started to panic.
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," she muttered snidely.
Lily ignored her. "For goodness sake, My, put a shirt on, and do it quickly. I'm not here for small talk." She used her wand to yank open the middle drawer of her dresser and launch a blouse at her.
Hermione dangled the thin shirt in front of her distastefully before she dropped it on her bed and glared at Lily, focusing very closely on the red-headed woman's reactions to determine how to respond… and if she needed to alter her act to remain convincing.
Lily's eyes narrowed slightly. "Don't look at me like that, daughter; I'm not in the mood. Put on that shirt immediately, and then you and I are going to have a little chat."
Hermione pursed her lips, but made a show of reluctantly complying, wrenching the too-tight blouse over her head, even though she was more than happy to be fully dressed again. She knew her story for taking Draco like the back of her hand. She had no idea if Lily would buy it, but so far everyone else had, and that knowledge alone made her feel like she had a slightly better grip on the situation.
She pasted an irritated expression on her face and looked at Lily impatiently. Harry's mother had folded herself into the armchair across from Hermione's bed like a queen, one arm casually resting on the armrest while long, manicured nails slowly drummed against the front of it.
"Fine," Hermione said irreverently. "What?"
Lily's fingers stopped moving. She studied Hermione with chilly eyes. "I thought I made it very clear the last time that you will never speak to me with that attitude."
Hermione scowled and sighed, her heart pounding so quickly she was afraid it must have been noticible, then muttered, "Sorry."
Lily leaned forward abruptly, her cool expression suddenly cracking. "What exactly were you thinking — or were you? Pawning yourself off like a strumpet to get your hands on a worthless sack of bones? And what - for your own amusement? Were you not raised with an ounce of propriety?"
Hermione indignantly opened her mouth to protest on her parents' behalf, but Lily cut her off. "Your utterly thoughtless actions have thrown insult on my second viceroy's entire family, not to mention me." She levelled a dangerous expression on Hermione. "You will return him at once."
For a moment, Hermione could only stare at her in disbelief. Then a fierce unwillingness to accept that order flared within her, despite Lily's inarguable words of warning only seconds before.
"I will not!" she retorted heatedly, jumping to her feet, the pillow she'd pulled to her earlier still in hand. "If I give him back — when he's mine now, fair and square — Ronáld will never let me hear the end of it, that pretentious arse!"
Lily suddenly sat up straight, her eyes dark. "Hermione G. Evans, would you dare defy—"
"Do you know what he did to me?" Hermione hissed, flinging down her pillow. "Broke up with me - very publicly - for another filthy Old-Blood. An Old-Blood. For me. Talking about throwing on insult - It was disgusting. He deserved everything he got, and every time he goes to use his precious little House-Wizard and finds he can't, he'll be reminded of exactly that," she spat honestly.
And then she took a breath and prayed with everything she had and looked back at Lily.
The red-headed witch's expression had suddenly become extremely calculating, her green eyes penetrating.
For a moment, Hermione was jolted completely from her 'My' immersion. Panic shot straight through her chest.
Good Merlin. She knows.
But then a very small smile pulled at one corner of Lily's scarlet lips. "Is that what happened."
An almost giddy relief surged through Hermione like a second wind propelling her forward. She irately raised her eyebrows at the other woman as if to say, "Well, obviously."
"Of course, Arthur would have failed to mention those details." Lily smoothly crossed one slender leg over the other and leaned toward Hermione thoughtfully in the same action. "You say you obtained him legally."
Hermione lifted her chin, trying to ignore the desperate hope that began to blossom through her chest. "Made a bet with him he could never win. And he didn't, of course. Half the school saw it happen." She glared at her sullenly, crossing her arms. She was not prepared to back down on this, and from what she knew of My, she wouldn't have, either — though likely for very different reasons. "I'm not about to just 'return him.' "
Lily sat back, both sides of her lips pulling upward slightly in a decidedly measured, but pleased, expression. "Well. It would seem Arthur has no claim after all."
Despite her impassive exterior, Hermione could tell from the focused intensity of the woman's piercing green gaze alone that she was perpetually observing, perpetually alert beneath the very cool facade.
And that alone made her more dangerous than any other person Hermione had met here.
Get her out of the room, get her out of the room…
"So are you through yelling at me for no good reason, mother?" she asked impudently, sneeringly twisting the last word so it could be interpreted as mocking in case My usually called her Lily or any other title instead.
Lily's eyes focused back on her again. "Mm. I suppose I am."
She leaned forward, as if to stand. And it was then that Hermione noticed her do something… strange.
She stretched out the pale fingers of her right hand, then relaxed them into a cup, almost as if she was suddenly holding something that hadn't been there before. The movement was so quick that if Hermione hadn't been so attentive she wouldn't have caught it at all, and Lily swiftly pushed her fingers against the front of the armrest before she straightened in one elegant motion.
For the briefest of seconds, Hermione saw something tiny and round and red and black where Lily's hand had been that did not belong there.
Oh damn.
As Lily strolled past her, Hermione jerked her gaze away, desperately trying to keep her face composed rather than panicked. It had to be some kind of magical sensor — or whatever new Muggle-like spying technology the Sovereignty had devised in this Universe. And if it had any kind of filming capacity like the camera in Lucius Malfoy's cell had—
"Oh. My."
Her heart jumped to her throat, and she quickly pasted an expression of bored indifference on her face before she looked over at her 'mother.'
Lily had turned slightly back toward Hermione, though she wasn't looking at her, instead idly running a finger down the open dresser drawer. Her lips were pursed slightly - almost indecisively, Hermione would have said, had she not known better. "Let me tell you a little something about men," she said slowly.
Hermione crossed her arms, jutting out her hip, all too aware that someone or something else might now be watching her from a completely different angle. "What? They're pig-headed idiots, the lot of them? Thanks, but I've already got that figured—"
"Let me talk." Lily abruptly shoved the drawer shut with a bang!; Hermione jumped slightly as Harry's mother turned to face her completely. "You and I… We're beautiful women, My," she said matter-of-factly, her tone extremely knowing. "And when a woman is beautiful, duping men through sex is all too easy. That makes doing it frequently extremely tempting. But once you have a reputation for it, few will respect your power or fall for your charms again." She leaned one shoulder against the dresser, studying Hermione with an almost conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. "Take the advice of… someone with far more experience. Save your deceit for the battles that count."
The irony of the conversation was almost too much, and if her nerves weren't so frayed at the thought of a potential bug placed only five feet away from her, Hermione might have been amused.
She widened her eyes theatrically. "Are you saying what I did to Ronáld was wrong?"
Lily shrugged dispassionately. "Right, wrong… those words are very subjective. I have no doubt the Weasley brat had it coming. The question is, was it worth it in the grand scheme of your own objectives?" She straightened off the dresser and prowled toward the door with the deliberate steps of a panther, then looked back at Hermione once more. "Between the two of us, Weasley's father may be Viceroy now, but I assure you such an Old-Blood family will not remain in that position of power forever. And when it opens, well - what is it I've always told you?"
Hermione froze.
She abruptly felt like a deer trapped in the headlights of Lily's electrifyingly green gaze.
Oh bugger.
As one of Lily's thin eyebrows arched expectantly, she felt her vision begin to narrow in panic, and she wracked her brain frantically. What would her 'mother' have said to her about an open Viceroy position… That a Muggle-born would take it? That My would take it? That—
"Mother? What are you doing here?"
The laser-like beams left hers, and Hermione almost gasped in relief at the sight of none other than Harry Evans standing in her doorframe.
A frown briefly crossed Lily's face, before she stretched her lips into a decidedly artificial smile and turned toward him. "Oh Harry, darling." She walked to him and leaned her face close to the side of his, lowering her voice, but not so much that Hermione missed her words. "You could at least pretend to sound pleased to see me."
He gazed darkened. "Why? You never sound pleased to see me."
"Perhaps you forget I'm your mother. I have the privilege of that option." Lily stood back and examined him again, her lip curled just slightly. "For the love of Merlin, shave your face. You look ridiculous."
Harry's jaw tightened as she emotionlessly brushed past him and out the door.
Their icy exchange left Hermione stunned. She knew he wasn't entirely Sovereignty-loyal, not with his bond with Pansy, but she had never expected him to have such a cold relationship with his own mother - not when Lily Potter had sacrificed herself for Harry in Universe A! It made the conversation Lily had had with Hermione-As-My downright motherly in comparison, which was bizarre enough, because Hermione wasn't even a blood relation like Harry was.
For a moment, Harry's angry gaze shifted to hers, surveying her with the same emerald intensity as his mother. Hermione could hear Lily's boots descending the stairs behind him, and she held her breath, waiting, just waiting for him to say something that would give her away…
But after an indecipherable stare that lasted long enough to be uncomfortable, he simply turned his head and disappeared back down the stairs.
Hermione let out a small breath and immediately collapsed dramatically onto her back on the massive bed. Her brain kicked into overdrive.
Lily had bugged her chair.
She had to destroy it immediately without arousing suspicion.
How?
She tilted her head backward toward the half-open wardrobe the moment she heard a small shuffle inside it. In the shadows of the cavernous closet, she could see Pansy edging toward the partially open door wearing her old House-Witch uniform - Hermione had no idea where she'd found it - a large pile of clothing folded in her arms.
Abruptly, Hermione raised her hands up over her head in what could have been a stretch, but she used the motion to catch Pansy's eye and shook her head ever so slightly in warning. Pansy's blue eyes widened, and she quickly retreated deeper into the closet again.
Hermione refocused.
She couldn't use magic. That would be far too obvious, especially if the device had a spell detection sensor like she suspected it did.
And if she couldn't use magic, that left…
As soon as the distant sound of clicking footsteps faded from the common room itself, Hermione sat up, shoving as much emotion and anger into her expression as she possibly could. She glared fiercely at the empty armchair in which Lily Evans had been sitting, trying not to look directly at the spotted red dot on the armrest.
" 'Put a shirt on, My,' " she said snidely, imitating Lily's voice. "Just who does she think she is? I'm nineteen bloody years old; how dare she tell me what to do?"
With that, Hermione snatched up her bedside lamp and fiercely threw it toward the armchair, trying to make it look as though she wasn't aiming for anything in particular even though she certainly was.
Her hand was shaking.
She missed.
The lamp sailed past the tiny, inconspicuous device, instead smashing into the wall behind the chair and shattering loudly. Hermione held back a curse and kept scowling; she needed a reason to throw something again—
Just then… the red and black 'bug' sprouted wings.
Shock and a silent shriek burst through her chest.
Before she could blink, it was scurrying off down the arm of the chair, heading for the floor.
Holy mother of —
Hermione began to seize various objects off her bedside table and hurl them in the direction of the chair, trying not to look obvious as she took careful aim at the now literal bug running down the front of the armrest. "I - will - wear - as - much - or - as - little - as - I - bloody - well - like!"
On 'like,' she snatched up the last thing within reaching distance, a solid gold elephant trinket the size of her hand, and threw it desperately.
It slammed into the chair near where she had last seen the bug, then fell to the floor with a heavy thud.
She gasped in a shallow breath.
The bug was nowhere in sight.
A full-sized elephant may as well have been sitting on her chest for her inability to acquire air. Swiftly, she marched over to pick up the gold elephant, still trying to maintain an incensed, My-like expression in case it had gotten away. As she bent down to grab the bauble, she quickly scanned the floor around the armchair, hoping, hoping—
She could hardly restrain herself from falling to her knees in relief.
A crushed, ladybug-like contraption lay near the chair's right foot.
If that thing had gotten away…
Hermione shook her head, panting heavily. She didn't even want to think about what could have happened.
She crouched down warily, examining it from a safe distance. From what she could see, it was an incredibly bizarre combination of Muggle and magical technology, not much bigger than the nail on her pinky, but from its mangled state, she had assumed she'd destroyed it - physically, at least.
Any enchantments on it could still be intact.
She drew her wand and focused on her target intently. "Specialis revelio," she breathed as silently as she could.
The scripted list of enchantments and Dark Arts construction spells that materialized in the air before her was formidable.
The fractured, tiny device did indeed show evidence of several detection enchantments − and not just of spells, which meant it would have detected whatever magic was performed in its vicinity, but also of images, sounds, and magical disguises.
Good Merlin… if she hadn't by some stroke of good fortune noticed Lily leaving it behind, it would have captured everything.
And that would have been as good as a death sentence for them all.
Hermione felt sick, overwhelmed, but she forced herself to keep thinking. Its transmitting ability must have been rooted in its Muggle construction and thus was likely destroyed. Just in case, she wove small, concentrated wards around it and then carefully cast a complicated Runic enchantment to see if any similar spells had been placed elsewhere around her room.
When it the search came up empty, she left the bug where it lay and swiftly summoned the hairbrush to her, transfiguring it back into the Marauder's Map. She hadn't closed it with 'mischief managed' before she'd transfigured it, and she flipped it over to the correct side.
The head quarters were empty, except for Harry, who was in the common room.
'Lily Evans' had already moved to another page.
She finally allowed herself to slump to the ground, trying to still her sweaty, shaking hands and slow her pounding heart. She wanted, needed to study it further so she could determine how to find and subvert similar devices, but now wasn't the time.
"We're clear," she said weakly.
For now.
She heard movement behind her, and looked back over her shoulder to see Pansy creep from the closet, the stack of My's clothing still clutched to her chest. She stared at her. "What happened?" she whispered.
Hermione sighed heavily. "We were bugged."
Her eyes widened. "Is it still—"
"No. Not now."
Pansy's rigid shoulders collapsed slightly, and her gaze shifted to the other side of Hermione's bed. Hermione jolted slightly as she remembered what had happened to Draco, but before she could even stand, Pansy had dropped the clothing on the ground and darted toward the corner of the room where he'd landed. "Draco! Are you alright?"
"I'm… fine, Pans." His response was weary, but conscious.
Suddenly, Pansy sucked in a sharp gasp of horror.
In a heartbeat, Hermione was sitting up straight on her knees so she could see over the bed. The dark-haired woman had gone rigid, holding a hand to her mouth, in a half-crouch a few feet from where Draco had begun to shift himself up off the ground and to a sitting position.
Her eyes were fixed on his bare torso, still shirtless after he'd shucked his jumper in their earlier roleplay.
"Did they… Did they do all that to you?" she asked faintly, sounding choked.
At once, Hermione realized what was affecting her so greatly, and she leapt to her feet. "Pansy…" she said cautiously, hurrying around the too-large bed.
Draco had hunched over himself, as if trying to block Pansy's view of his deeply marred skin, his back pressed against the wall. "It isn't important," he muttered tautly.
"What do you mean, it isn't important? It is important, Draco!" she cried. The tears in her eyes began to slip down her face, and she sank to her knees. "Oh sweet Merlin, how could they even l-live with themselves? I-I can't- It's - It's barbaric! You never did anything to them! You didn't—"
At that moment, Hermione reached her, and gently but firmly took her by the shoulders and urged her back to her feet, pulling her away from him. "Pansy, I think what everyone might need right now is a bit of space."
Pansy wiggled out of her grasp, wiping her red-rimmed eyes. "No— No. Hermione, you have to do something for him. Isn't there something you can—"
"There isn't anything wrong with me!" he suddenly burst out, his hands so clenched his fingers were digging deep into his arms, and Hermione knew exactly what he was feeling because she knew very well what Harry Potter had always endured whenever people ogled his scar.
And Draco had far more than a hundred times the number that Harry had.
Pansy looked stunned at his outburst. Hermione took advantage of the distraction to step in front of her, blocking the blue-eyed girl's horrified, gaping gaze. "Pansy, I know you have his best intentions at heart," she said in a low voice, "but when I say leave now, I don't mean for it to be a suggestion."
Pansy finally focused on her, tears seeping from her eyes. "Hermione—"
She stood back and pointed to the door. "Pansy."
The Slytherin pressed her lips together unhappily. Still, after a moment, she wordlessly turned and left, closing the door behind her.
Hermione sighed as she watched her go. She knew very well what it was like to be the worried best friend, and she felt for Pansy, she truly did… but not as much as she did for Draco. There might be a time for them to talk about what had happened, but it wasn't now.
Not when Draco had never wanted her to find out in the first place.
She shook her head and looked back down at him, still crouched in nearly the same position, though he'd turned farther away from where both women had stood, which revealed more of his back.
It was mottled and scarred beyond recognition.
No matter how many times Hermione had seen Draco's bare skin while healing him, it still affected her too, made her as distressed as Pansy and enraged and appalled at the savage brutality of this universe that called itself 'progressive' but made treatment like this common law toward anyone deemed a threat. But as with Harry Potter, she had learned quickly enough that it was far better if she never showed her impressions outwardly around him.
She hesitated, then moved closer and crouched down beside him. Draco didn't even look over at her approach, though his blond hair obscured her view of his face, limply tumbling into his eyes and down past his neck in uneven straggles, as if someone at some point had simply sawed sections of it off with a knife. That the idea might very well have been accurate infuriated her, and it occurred to her that he might want it cut again- this time, correctly. She would have to ask him later.
Now, she re-conjured the sweater he'd been wearing earlier and held it out. "Draco?" she said softly.
He tensed. "Please don't," he said, his strained voice uncharacteristically dull.
She wondered if he thought she was going to press him for answers, or conversation, or, worst of all, ask if he was alright, which he obviously wasn't.
"I'm not." She moved the sweater closer to his lowered line of vision. "I just thought you might want this."
Draco finally looked up slightly, though not at her. Silently, he took the jumper with a wavering hand, unfurling himself to pull it over his head. It was maroon and seemed expensive, with a small Gryffindor shield stamped in gold on the front left-side breast.
The colors looked alien on him.
Now that Hermione was closer, she could see that not only his fingers, but his entire body was visibly shaking. He clenched his hands into fists, again wrapping his arms around himself and hunching over slightly, staring at the floor on the other side of his body from where she knelt.
His body language clearly said he wanted to be left alone.
Draco had never pushed her away like this before. Something about what had all just happened must have been worse, in his mind, than anything else they'd experienced together. But after the way he'd been there for her last night…
Well, Hermione felt she owed it to him to stay. He had been isolated and alone in the Weasleys' custody long enough.
She took a small breath and carefully sat down next to him. The floor was cold against her mostly bare legs, her skin at once icy and wet, sweaty from her encounter with Lily, and she realized that she too was shivering. Summoning a blanket off her bed, she tucked one side of it under her legs and silently offered the other half to Draco.
He looked at the blanket apathetically, then took the offered edge from her hand and threw it over his own legs as well, his shoulder brushing against hers as he leaned back against the wall, too. Warmth blossomed at the site of contact, radiating down her arm.
Two weeks ago, even, Hermione would have pulled away from him immediately, but now she welcomed the feeling, a reassurance that he was there without even having to look. She was well aware he had become her closest friend here, even if she wasn't his. His bright personality and concern unfailingly gave her comfort whenever she found she was unsure.
She couldn't say she relied on it so much as that she deeply appreciated it.
When he stared straight ahead into the expanse of her room, she did the same, their arms still pressed together.
She let her thoughts drift where they wanted, namely to how in the names of Merlin and Morgana she was going to handle the suddenly very tangible threat of Lily Evans. Once only a distant spectre, it was now quite clear that Lily (or anyone of her ranking, likely) could encroach on the Head Girl and Head Boy whenever they damn well pleased - obviously, a potentially disastrous predicament.
What they needed - immediately - was a warning system so they would at least have the same, if not more, advanced notice when this happened again. Hermione could only guess it was inevitable that it would in the time she still had here, before she found a way back home.
Good Merlin, if they hadn't decided to look for themselves on the Marauders' Map when they had…
She shuddered, unwilling to think of the consequences.
Holding out her hand, Hermione wandlessly summoned the Map to her from across the room; in a breath, it shot into her waiting palm. One of the very few benefits that had accompanied the subterfuge she'd needed to survive in Universe B had been a sharp increase in her ability to use nonverbal and wandless magic, even for complex spells. Standing alongside a very recognisable Harry Potter, she'd had little need for such drastic subtlety while fighting Voldemort.
She twisted the Map around and surveyed it warily. Pansy was in Harry's room; Harry had left the Central Tower altogether. Lily still had not returned to that side of the Map, and she flipped it over to see if she was still in the castle at all.
Why had she even decided to bug her room in the first place? she wondered as her eyes scanned the now buzzing hallways, classes clearly about to begin. Had Lily intended it all along, or had something Hermione said led her to suspect things were off?
And, perhaps most pressingly: Would she come back once she'd realized her ladybug had been destro—
"Hermione, thank you," Draco suddenly whispered.
The words startled her from her dire contemplations. She looked over at him in surprise. He was still staring straight ahead, his eyes locked on her bed, or perhaps the wall beyond it. "What for?"
"For what you did. With… her."
Hermione knew from his tone that he wasn't talking about Pansy.
She was confused at his gratitude. What else could she have done? It wasn't as though she'd been given a choice of whether or not she had wanted to face off with Lily Evans.
"Of course," she said.
Draco shook his head abruptly. "No, not just 'of course.' You truly don't understand the significance of what you're doing." He let out a heavy breath and tilted his head back against the wall, staring upward, his gaze unfocused. "Those people - my whole life, all they have ever done is make us feel less than what we are. No one else cared. No one who had any kind of power tried to stop them or say it wasn't right. Until Tom Riddle stepped in, and we learned that we had to do something about it, or it would only get worse. But no matter what we tried… it still did."
His gaze slipped over to hers. "They took our humanity from us, Hermione. And you - you're giving it back. For Merlin's sake, you just fought with the most dangerous woman in all of Britain so…" He took a breath and didn't finish the sentence.
"I wasn't about to let her swoop in and send you back to that hell without a fight," Hermione said vehemently, acutely aware that the same thing very well could have happened to her and other Universe A Muggle-borns had Harry's duel with Voldemort ended differently.
For the briefest of moments, he seemed surprised. Then he re-focused on her, his grey eyes filled with an unreadable intensity. Even with his tangible physical weariness and, yes, the many scars scattered like constellations across his face and neck (some fainter than others, but still far too many for anyone to have bourne in a lifetime), there was such life in those eyes that it was hard not to be mesmerized by them.
Abruptly, Hermione realized just how close Draco's face actually was - and that she was doing the very opposite of what he wanted by staring quite blatantly at it.
She hastily pulled her shoulder away and looked forward again, trying to breathe normally and unsure of why doing so had become difficult. They were just friends, of course. Imagine being anything else with Draco Malfoy, of all people - the idea was preposterous.
Even though she knew very well that this man wasn't really 'Draco Malfoy' at all.
After a few moments of what to her seemed a pronounced silence, he cleared his throat and muttered, "Just… don't ever forget there's a good reason she's so feared. She will kill without a second thought." She glanced back at him quickly to see he had bowed his head slightly, facing away from her again. He hesitated, his shoulders tensing. "I've… seen it happen, and I… I don't want it to happen to you."
Hermione was again reminded of how dangerously close they had come to discovery. Imprisonment. Yes, perhaps even - death.
She shook her head, feeling ill. "I don't want it to happen to any of us."
She needed to set up protection wards, right now. Cave Inimicum, the Muffliato Charm, a Blurring Charm over Harry's window like the one she'd already placed on hers if he hadn't done so already, find a way to embed an enemy warning system into the Marauder's Map so she would know remotely if anyone undesirable had entered the Head Quarters, or the School, perhaps linked with a transferral charm that would immediately send Pansy and Draco to the Room of Requirements.
Correction - First what she needed to do, immediately, was check the common room for any trace of the same spells that were on the bug Lily had left here…
She had just shifted the blanket aside and stood when Draco asked in a low voice behind her, "Is this what it felt like? For Harry Potter?"
Hermione stopped.
She understood what he meant.
"The stares? The reactions? I- I suppose, yes," she said slowly, wishing she had a better answer for him than the truth. Then again, Harry's scar had mostly caused attention because of the celebrity that it brought, not because it was simply… awful. "I don't know if he… ever got used to it, really. I think he mostly just learnt to ignore it."
Draco sighed softly and nodded, as if he'd expected that.
She turned back toward him. "You shouldn't let it define you," she said quietly, but emphatically. "You're so much more than whatever marks might be on your body."
He nodded tautly, but Hermione could tell from his posture alone he already had.
She thought for a moment, then crouched back down in front of him. "Can I show you something?"
Draco looked up at her, startled. His eyes were unexpectedly, uncharacteristically lifeless, which concerned Hermione almost as much as his unresponsiveness to her earlier had. He dully searched her face, though for what, she didn't know, until he eventually nodded.
She nodded as well and carefully took his left hand in hers, placing her other hand on his covered forearm. She remembered one particular scar she'd first noticed there on the night she'd taken him to the Hospital Wing… one particular scar that had seared more irreversibly into her memory than any of his others. She wrapped her fingers around his sleeve and began to push it back—
Draco swiftly yanked his arm close to his chest and curled into himself. "No, Hermione - not that."
"It's alright. It isn't what you think," she said, tilting her head down until she caught his averted gaze. "I promise, Draco. I promise," she repeated quietly, willing reassurance into her voice and expression. "Please… let me see it."
He didn't look at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
"Draco?" she said softly.
He took a visibly deep breath, staring at the floor, his jaw tight.
Then, to her surprise, he slowly pushed his left jumper sleeve up to his elbow himself, and stiffly held his arm out to her, gaze still averted from hers.
Tears sprung to her eyes, though she didn't know why. She quickly blinked them back. "Thank you," she said earnestly, taking his arm lightly in her hands. She gently turned his palm upward.
The word "FUSTY" was crudely carved in large letters into his forearm's pale, tender skin.
Steeling herself, she lowered her own left arm, placing it alongside his. For a moment, Bellatrix's deranged, sneering face flashed before her eyes. Gritting her teeth, Hermione forced the image from her mind. The woman was dead now; she didn't deserve to have any power over her.
"In another world, in another life," she said, "someone put this on my arm."
She waved her wand, and the word Mudblood appeared scratched into her skin in almost the exact location Fusty was on his.
Draco's gaze shifted toward her arm, and she saw him stiffen.
For a long time, he didn't move.
She held her breath and tried not to clench her hand into a fist to hold it steady. She hoped she hadn't been completely off base in thinking this would be a good idea...
Then Draco unexpectedly reached out, wrapping his thin hand around the magically reproduced scar on her arm. He looked up at her, his expression at once open and clouded.
"I'm sorry," he breathed.
Hermione stared at him in surprise. "Don't be; it isn't your fault," she said softly, though she felt some indescribable, heavy emotion shift inside her the moment he'd said it, as though something about his apology was curative, somehow, given she'd received the scar in the home of his Universe A counterpart at the hand of his close relative. But he couldn't have known that.
She shook her head, gripping her wand tightly before she set it down.
"That isn't why I… My point is, we all have scars, even if some of them are harder to see. And," she added adamantly, "we aren't worth anything less because we have them, we're worth more, and far more than the people who gave them to us!" She gestured at his arm, and then his face and chest. "So when anyone sees yours, be proud. They're proof that you've lived through something most people can't even imagine… and that you've had the strength to survive."
She focused back on him to see that he was still staring at her with an intensity she didn't quite understand, his eyes glistening.
He blinked rapidly and looked down.
"My… mother… used to say something like that," he said quietly.
It was the first time he had ever mentioned Narcissa, and Hermione wondered what had happened to her. She hadn't seen her on any House-Witch list, which really implied only one of two things: that she had 'escaped,' whatever that meant… or that she had died.
"She must be very wise," she said with a warm smile, dearly hoping for his sake it was the former.
Draco looked back at her. When he smiled faintly, she was glad to see his expression had finally regained a tiny spark of the vivacity she had come to admire, though his eyes held regret. Sadness filled her as she realized from his gaze alone that Narcissa was not alive. "She would have said the very same thing about you."
The Potions classroom had not changed in the ten years that Severus Snape had been its master.
Lily Evans leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms, and calmly studied the man diligently working at the throne-like desk at the head of the room. She had to admit, he'd matured well — much better than she could have imagined when she was fifteen. Then again, Severus had always managed to groom himself well — it'd been more of the gangly coordination he'd been lacking then. Except for...
"Really Severus? Stubble?" she said dryly, without bothering to hide from her tone her distaste of the thoroughly unpalatable style that had been worn by every male in her life whom she had abhorred. "You're letting yourself go, I see."
He looked up.
When their eyes met, she smirked.
"Well, if you'd given me some warning you were coming, I would have shaved," he said, his voice holding its usual excess of snark and dearth of deference. ""Lily Evans. What brings you to my door?"
She straightened and sauntered into the classroom. "The same thing that always brings me to your door."
She casually ran a finger along the desks, the edge of books, noting the scattered sneezewort powder still dusting the tables. From the scent of lovage that still lingered in the air, she could tell the last class had been making a Befuddlement Potion. "Such careless little things. You really should make them clean properly, Severus; whatever would you do if the Department of Educational Safety and Health dropped by for an inspection?"
He looked confused, an expression Lily knew was purely theatrical. "I thought — Wait. Isn't that why we have House-Wizards? If you can compel Filch and his line-up of lackeys to clean my classroom earlier in the day, the room would be spotless by now."
She pursed her lips thoughtfully, then tilted her head in acknowledgement of that and deliberately strolled right past him when he stood to greet her. She sensed him following behind her as she fixed her gaze on the nondescript, ironclad door indented in the wall to the right of the classroom's head. She knew it wouldn't open, but when complex unlocking charm didn't do the job, either, she tilted her head back at him and turned slightly, tracing one blood red fingernail down the front of his starched grey shirt.
"Oh Severus. I thought we'd gotten past our trust issues."
He furrowed his brow. "Trust? Come back and talk to me about trust when you have two hundred miscreants running around your office sticking their fingers in everything. You'd have your valuables locked up faster than you can say 'trust issues' as well."
"The children of Hogwarts don't need an Impenetrable Curse to keep them out."
"Yes, but the faculty of Hogwarts do." The dark-haired man gave her a pointed look before he disassembled the curse, something only his magical signature could. He pushed open the door to reveal a familiar, murky study laden with bursting bookshelves and rows of ingredients unfit for student hands… or knowledge.
Lily immediately crossed the room to a seemingly empty corner. She sensed the wards before she saw them and moved her wand to dissipate them. Before she could, the stones in the wall shifted aside and a cauldron materialized in a small niche front of her, its contents steaming.
Severus had beat her to it.
"And here I thought you had come to see me," he lamented sarcastically from behind her.
"The completion of this potion is always my primary objective." Her lips pulled upward slightly as she looked over at him. "You're merely a… beneficial perk."
"Well, sorry to obliterate your objective, but you're here too early," he said, walking around to the other side of the pot. "If you administer it now, you and one other very important person will be sorely disappointed."
She ignored him and keenly examined the potion, noting with satisfaction its rich mahogany, chocolate-like consistency.
Red with the blood of its intended and his kin.
Already it looked light years more promising than it had five years ago.
She leaned close to the bubbling liquid, inhaling deeply. The smell of valerian and St. John's wort with just a hint of mandrake root invaded her senses.
Lily smiled.
"You're wrong. This is ready, Severus."
He shook his head and held up a tiny, glittering bottle. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
She studied the golden dust inside it — Romanian Longhorn powder. Of course she hadn't forgotten it; it had taken a direct visit to the Romanian President from the Sovereign himself to obtain the substantial quantity the potion had required. "I thought you already added the last of the sequence with this summer's solstice."
He shook his head. "The last was at the autumnal equinox. It'll reach maturity after the winter solstice."
Lily frowned. Her Potions marks had been as high if not higher than his clear through Seventh Year; she didn't care how painstaking and elaborate this recipe was or how much more skill Severus may have gained as full-time Potions Master, she trusted her instincts. "It reeks of maturity, Severus. The mandrake's on the verge of bitterness. If it matures any more, it'll be as aged as the Sovereign."
"Which means the Sovereign can't afford to wait another five years in the very likely case I'm right." He lowered a gaze on her that was actually serious, which underscored his view of the importance of what he was telling her. "The mandrake's bitter because it isn't the last dose this potion will receive. It needs another three months, Lily."
She surveyed him coolly, looking for any indication he was lying. Not that he ever had, but it always paid to be cautious… doing so often led to the discovery of the most interesting things. "And you're absolutely certain we'll have no… incidents, this time?"
Severus lounged back against the bookcase. "I managed to correct all seventeen blunders your idiots in the Mystery department made the last time around, so yes, I'd say so."
"Well then. I suppose we'll just have to wait a little longer." She moved to sit on edge of the study's desk, sliding back onto it in one easy motion. Once she'd become comfortable, she studied him closely. "Tell me something. Has my adopted daughter been… off lately?"
He tilted his head at her. "You mean, has she stopped whining? That would be a resounding no."
Lily frowned thoughtfully, and slowly shook her head. "No, not that. This is different. I get the feeling she's holding something back from me."
He shrugged. "She's a teenager; in case you haven't noticed already, that's what they do."
"I don't like it. She's lucky I agreed to adopt her in the first place; she should be grateful, the superficial wretch. Instead, she continues to press my buttons." Lily paused, then examined him carefully one last time. "You're sure."
"Well, let me think…" Severus looked up at the ceiling with his typical dramatics, then rolled his head back at her. "Yeah," he said emphatically.
Lily nodded.
She would be the judge of that.
She didn't mistrust him, necessarily — she'd known him longer than she had almost anyone else; she could read him like a book — but he occasionally tended to miss observations that she never had.
Gathering her magical reserves, she looked into his eyes and channelled her intent directly into his dark gaze.
Memories of every one of his most recent encounters with Hermione Granger Evans flashed before her.
My cowering behind a statue while Ginevra Weasley attacked her, until Severus stepped in and sent them both on their way.
My parading around the Great Hall wearing next to nothing.
My doing poorly on every Remedial Potions assignment.
My's cauldron exploding.
My rolling her eyes and looking like the spoiled brat she unequivocally was.
After Lily was satisfied, she withdrew from his mind. She knew Severus wouldn't be especially pleased she'd used Legilimency on him even though it certainly hadn't been the first time, and the sour expression he gave her confirmed that. "Oh Evans. I thought we'd gotten past our trust issues."
She was surprised it'd taken him this long to throw her earlier comment back at her - he'd always been quick of wit and sharp of tongue. A tempered smile stretched across her face. "Nothing against you, Severus darling. I wouldn't trust a flea." She slid off the desk. "I suppose she is just being difficult," she said, twisting the last words deprecatingly. She pulled out her phone. "Along those lines, I'd be interested in your thoughts on something."
"You were just in my head. You mean you didn't look at them then?"
Lily gave him a withering look. "Aren't you just precious." She tapped her phone's screen, scrolling through it until she found what she was looking for. Using her wand and a murmured incantation the Department of Technological Integration had invented only a year earlier, she drew a small stream of light from the phone's face and flung it in front of them.
Like a three-dimensional theatre screen, a life-sized version of My's plush bedroom materialized in front of them, the lighted images brighter than the dusty shadows of the study. My and Lily herself stood frozen in place near My's door. "Arthur Weasley's been lurking outside my chambers for the past twenty-four hours yowling like a kicked kneazle," she said, curling her lip in irritation. "The bloody imbecile's getting on my nerves. I paid My a little visit this morning just so I could get him out of my hair."
He cocked his head at her, mock concern and surprise in his expression. "Has little My been a bad girl?"
"Don't be coy, Severus; I'm certain you know she has. It turns out Arthur wasn't telling me the whole story, which obviously isn't a surprise. I can't say I disapprove of her reasons for what she did, if not her actions." Her lip quirked slightly to the right. "Quite honestly? I couldn't be more pleased the Malfoy spawn has come under my family's ownership, for free, no less. The timing couldn't be better, not with this potion coming into maturity." She chuckled. "No wonder Arthur's having fits; it's a wonder he didn't come here and try to take off My's head himself."
Severus' lip curled. "Probably because his idiot of a son's still madly in lust with her, I can see it every time he looks in her direction. Disgusting." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Though it must mean your daughter's an absolute Veela in b—"
"Yes, thank you, that's more than enough, Severus," Lily said, scowling. She gestured toward the filmy images in front of them. "I placed a surveillance unit in her room as I was leaving."
He arched an eyebrow. "Stalking. That'll win you parent points."
"Quiet. Watch the feed." She waved her wand, watching impatiently as her recorded likeness turned and spoke to her son, then disappeared from view. "Now."
The girl dramatically flung herself down on the bed, stretching her arms above her head. Then she sat up, glaring fiercely at some point above the WizardCam that was embedded in the bug. " 'Put a shirt on, My,' " she said mockingly in what Lily considered a very poor imitation of her voice. She proceeded to throw a monumental fit— and any object within grabbing distance in the direction of the camera.
Suddenly, something round and golden — Lily knew it was that bloody elephant for which My had insisted on paying a ridiculous sum during their trip to India — hurled directly at them.
The view of My's bedroom vanished abruptly, leaving them staring at the cluttered Potions study.
As soon as it cut, she heard Severus let out a long whistle. She looked over at her old friend expectantly. Severus had sat down at his desk, his gaze impressed as he continued to peer in the general direction the feed had been playing.
She arched an eyebrow. "Well?"
"Girl's got an arm on her. Why aren't you showing this to the Quidditch team? I hear Gryffindor could use some decent players these days."
Lily pursed her lips. "Can you be serious for at least one minute? I'm not amused, Severus, not with this. Now, I happened to be sitting right there, which could explain why she chose to throw things in that direction. But she also managed to destroy the surveillance unit immediately. Coincidence?"
He frowned, but his drollery seemed to have become appropriately subdued. "Remind me why you decided to bug her room in the first place?"
She sighed. "I saw a little of myself in her today." She smiled at him briefly. "Cause for concern, obviously."
Yes, when My's parents had met their unfortunate end, she had seemed like a promising, Muggle-born addition to the Evans name, but Lily had been somewhat disappointed with her performance since - a little too narcissistic, a little less concerned with learning the necessary magic she would need for the titles the girl had automatically assumed would be hers.
But it seemed My might grow into her potential yet… for better or worse.
Lily refocused on Severus to find him studying her thoughtfully, his hands folded contemplatively. "And you think — what? She's misleading you?"
"Perhaps. She may not be anywhere near as magically gifted or as intelligent as I am, but she's certainly as ambitious and has a growing propensity to be just as ruthless," Lily replied evenly. "It never hurts to keep an eye on that."
"You think My Granger has the intelligence to mislead you," he repeated.
Lily didn't care how ludicrous the idea sounded, especially when he said it like that; she knew what she'd felt. "She pulled the wool over Weasley's eyes."
He rolled his eyes. "First, you need to consider Weasley's own intelligence level, which is abysmally low, and second, she did it by sleeping with him, which, last I checked, doesn't require the highest degree of intellectual aptitude." He leaned toward her. "Lily, she's a nineteen year old, pampered beauty queen. She likes to get things her way, she doesn't like being ordered around, and considering she's an Elite, she has every right to that attitude. My unprofessional diagnosis? You have a severe case of paranoia. My Granger will never be able to usurp you."
She couldn't quite keep the frown from her face. "That's certainly the least of my concerns. You know how much I dislike ignoring an instinct."
Severus waved his hand nonchalantly, standing. "If it'll make you sleep better at night, I'll keep an eye on her. See if she isn't up to her usual tricks."
Lily considered his offer for several seconds before she nodded. She would accept that. "Do." She pocketed her phone. "I'll be back to administer the finished potion in three months. I'll expect an update then."
He stepped closer, so he was only inches from her. "Lily. You mean I have to go a whole three months?"
She smirked slightly. "Perhaps sooner. If you're good." She reached up and slowly began to unfasten the buttons of his shirt, starting at the collar. "Just so you know, his Sovereignty has waited ten years for this. Five years since the last attempt. He would… not be pleased if it fails again." She paused and glanced up at him coyly. "And this time, the only person around to take the blame will be you."
"Is that a threat I hear?" he asked in a low voice.
"Warning, Severus. Warning." Lily innocently smiled up at him, playing with his collar. "You're my oldest friend. I'm simply looking out for your well being."
He brushed her hair aside, lowering his head until the end of his hair tickled her neck and his lips were directly beside her ear. "I can think of a number of other ways you can look out for my well being," he breathed.
The right side of her lip quirked upward slightly, and she leaned in to his breath. "Such as…?"
She wasn't surprised when his lips pressed against the sensitive intersection of neck and jaw, caressing her skin demandingly. For a moment, she scowled darkly at the sensation of a stubby beard sliding roughly across her skin, but then she arched her neck into the kiss and shifted so her lips could hungrily meet his. She would tolerate the facial hair.
For now.
Wrapping his arms around her waist, Severus hauled her against him. As he trailed sensual kisses down her neck, Lily gasped and turned her head away, trying to keep from smiling.
Severus had always been so easy.
A/N: Please remember, since this immense story comes to you 100 percent free, I would be so grateful if you left reviews as a payment of sorts for the blood, sweat and tears (and there have been lots) I have put into every chapter! :)