Hermione's lifted spirits stayed with her through the day, bolstered by the Widow's dark glares and the henchwomen's worried looks. Astoria and Daphne kept their voices to low murmurs, glancing apprehensively at Hermione or their mother every so often. They refrained from saying anything to Hermione, which pleased her greatly.
Their mother was another story. After lunch in the sitting room, while Hermione cleared away their dishes, the Widow stopped her, grabbing her wrist. She held her for a moment, tightening her grip. "I take your father, I take your life, your money-hell I even have your wand-and yet you still try to undermine me. It won't work, you know. You can't prove it, no one ever has. You can't humiliate me. I won't let you."
Hermione bit her lip in an attempt to hide her smile. "I really hate to admit that I didn't give Rita Skeeter any of that information. I don't know how she got it, but I'm glad she did." Hermione knew she had a shit-eating grin by the end of the two sentences, but she couldn't help herself. Take that you bloated pustule!
The Widow released Hermione with a rough shove and refused to look at her. Hermione took the plates, walking away from her, smile stuck in place. As Hermione approached the exit of the sitting room, the Widow's voice rang out: "You don't really have anything left other than your heart do you, mudblood. Such fragile things, hearts are."
She threatened my life! Hermione thought pacing the floor in front of her cot, on the same night. Well my heart, but to-may-to, to-mah-to! In truth, Hermione was terrified. Again. However, it felt different this time. The Widow was right, she did only have her life left to lose. She felt like an animal trapped in a corner, and just like an animal, she would fight with everything she had. Or chew my leg off. That always seems to be an option.
Hermione pulled the book of wandless magic from under her pillow and sat on her bed, pushing her mane away from her face. It was late, but Hermione felt too tightly wound to be tired. I do believe it's time to practice a little spellwork. She would regret it in the morning, but she had to begin somewhere.
For the first time, Hermione opened the book and began reading.
Foreword
Witches and wizards have studied magic for centuries, and still it continues to be largely unexplainable and mostly unchanged. The biggest change magic has seen throughout history is the use of wands. They were introduced into high society first as status statement for the wealthy, but quickly became publically mainstream. In the process, the practice of using wandless magic became increasingly rare and difficult. With practice and focus however, any witch or wizard can harness this skill of old.
Hermione read long into the night, falling asleep in the wee hours of the morning. She woke again to Kreacher. This time he dropped the package on the floor and disappeared again. It was just the Prophet; Hermione skimmed it, picking up on the important bits and storing them away for later.
Her mind was more preoccupied with what she read last night. Quite a bit of the book was history she didn't have the patience to learn then, but the practical parts, the ones that introduced the practice of wandless magic, stressed the simplicity of the act and advised caution. Once she trained her mind to stop channeling magic through a bit of wood and unicorn hair, casting spells and charms would be easy. It also stressed that using magic in this way was like training a very important, very fragile muscle. Since wizard-kind was accustomed to using wands, the muscle was weak and undefined, and unnecessary for the practice of magic. To begin using wandless magic, however, was to grow a muscle that became increasingly indispensable to practicing magic, whether one chooses to do it with a wand or without. In the same muscle analogy, a learner can push themselves too far too fast and injure their magic, leaving their magic weaker than before or non-existent.
Hermione believed herself to be disciplined enough to change her way of casting and to pace herself well enough not to strain any muscles. She wasn't worried about the Widow and her henchwomen seeing either. The girls still had tutors passing through the house for most of the day, with the Widow overseeing lessons. Otherwise the three women shopped, visited friends elsewhere and napped, leaving Hermione with a list of tasks to complete for the day.
She began her training that day, with wingardium leviosa, the very first charm she learned with a wand. Remembering passages from the book, Hermione cleared her mind and focused on an object-a feather duster, bucket, a book-and imagined it floating before whispering the words to the spell. She didn't expect to get it on the first try, or the second or third, but by the umpteenth attempt after lunch, she was getting a bit frustrated. Simple my ass! That night, she sat on her cot staring at the day's newspaper for an hour and a half trying to make it levitate. After not even a breeze to ruffle the pages, Hermione physically threw it at a wall.
Lips pursed, she glared at the paper then at the book before grabbing it and flipping to the page where she left off to continue reading. Another long night of reading and another fruitless day of whispered wingardium leviosa's, left Hermione with a permanent scowl. She sat on her cot and stared at the book in her hands. It was so small-and she skipped all the historic parts-that she finished the book on her second night of reading. So much information packed into a few pages and it seemed Hermione had missed the most important bit, because no matter what she imagined, how forcefully she said the spell or what she was feeling, nothing worked.
What have I left out? She wondered. She opened the book to begin reading again, looking for a detail she missed. Her frustration was clouding her concentration and making her more annoyed so she stopped and laid down instead. I need help. Maybe Sirius knows some trick or something. I could send a message with Kreacher tomorrow morning.
As it turned out, Sirius did not have an answer. His response was a pitiful 'Keep trying, sweetheart' missive that Hermione wanted to burn. Help did come that day though-in the form of the Duchess. After the small article in the Prophet, the Widow could not risk getting caught denying the Duchess entrance again, so she was forced to let her in and call Hermione to the foyer. The Widow looked as if she'd been sucking lemons and the Duchess might as well have been hiding a swishing cat tail for all the smugness she oozed.
When the Widow left them alone, the Duchess requested a turnabout the Gardens unnecessarily loudly, before casting an Impervious charm. Not one to skive off niceties, the Duchess began to inquire about her health, or rather disparage her appearance.
"It's surprising what a nice dress and pair of heels can do to cover up a host of travesties," she said, "Or has a few weeks under her thumb caused your sense of self to depreciate?"
Hermione didn't bother to try to answer her. The Duchess holds onto nagging like a grudge and she had three weeks worth of badgering to purge herself of. Batty old harpy. Hermione waited for her to finish ranting about her lack of manors and unkempt hair. Even though the hair isn't my fault, she thought, pushing some of the mass back. It's a genetic plague.
"Yes Duchess, I'm pleased to see you as well," she told her with a wry smile. The Duchess gave a reluctant tight lipped smile.
"Impudent girl."
"Lovely piece in the Prophet the other day, Duchess. It created quite the little storm here." Her cat tail returned at the compliment. She might as well start cleaning her whiskers. Or cough up a hairball.
The Duchess primly smoothed her skirts before sitting on a nearby bench and picking a brightly colored bloom from its stem. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Now sit, we have quite a bit to catch up on and not a lot of time to do it."
Hermione chuckled and did as she said. "You're a strong girl, Hermione. Smart and pretty as well. Such a shame it's being wasted like this. But, not for much longer! I've been in and out of the Ministry and Gringotts trying to get things sorted out. I haven't quite solved it yet, but we are making headway. I promised your mother that I would take care of you and I shan't go back on my word."
The Duchess twirled the flower in her hand contemplatively. Hermione paused before speaking. "I don't understand. You said before that you couldn't take me away, that the Widow is my legal guardian and while she's still alive-murder isn't your style. What are you doing?"
"Murder! Good heavens no!" She put one hand over her heart. "Too dramatic and uncouth. No, I told you I've been searching for loopholes and I finally found one. Your mother, did something very strange for a woman to do, even now, but it seems to be our saving grace. She left a will, a small one, but most of it concerns you and your welfare. In the event of both her and Daniel's demise, two things were to happen. First, her family has a pretty sum of money left to you, separate from the merged vaults, so you are not destitute. Second, I am to become your legal guardian."
Hermione pursed her lips. But….
"But since Lady Granger married your father, she is equally qualified to be your guardian, though she is careless. I have to prove that she is unfit and that I have a valid claim to you. It will take time, lots of time but I can endure and so can you. I'm entering a custody battle for you child, so you better be bloody grateful when this is all over."
"Duchess Mcgonagall! Your language!" I can see the light! There! At the end of this disgustingly long tunnel! The Duchess let a small grin escape and put her hand over Hermione's. Hermione smiled back at her. They sat for a moment before Hermione remembered her unanswered question.
"I've been trying to practice wandless magic"-the Duchess's smile fellinto a frown-"but I haven't been able to perform even a simple levitation spell. I've read the book cover to cover-almost-but I have to be missing something because nothing's working."
"Hermione-"
"I know you don't agree with me learning this, but I will learn whether you want me to or not, so you might as well help me before I kill myself trying."
A full blown scowl was stuck on her face now, but she sighed and answered Hermione anyways. "Albus Dumbledore-you remember him don't you? Powerful wizard, meddling old coot, but a good man and very intelligent. He practices wandless magic himself and once said he had to change the way he imagined his magic working. He had to conceive the magic as part of himself rather than as a tool he used. I don't know much about practical workings of wandless magic, so I can't tell you much more than that, I'm sorry. I wish you wouldn't practice it at all, but your worse than a mule." You're not much better yourself, madam. Hermione simply grinned at their stubbornness and thanked her.
The Duchess left the house in a flurry of glares and cold stares and Hermione's day finished in silence and contemplation. In the servant's quarters, she sat mind still slinging around guardianship and wandless magic. There wasn't much she could do to help the Duchesss in her endeavor but that didn't stop her from worrying it over. What if the Ministry favored the Widow over the Duchess because of her marriage to Hermione's father? And the money? Could a woman really keep her money separate from her husband? How long would the entire process take? It's not as if anyone hears about custody battles-what kind of antiquated rules could they have in place?
Hermione huffed forcefully, pushing the questions from her head, focusing instead on a puzzle she actually had a chance of solving. She grabbed one of the newspapers-I have to find a place to put these before they pile up-and set it down a few feet away on the floor. Part of myself, she thought to herself. Come on imagination, don't fail me now. Again, Hermione focused on the newspaper, envisaged it being pushed into the air by some unseen force instead of simply floating.
"Wingardium leviosa," she whispered, holding the image in her head. When nothing happened, she gave a disheartened whimper and pouted. Throwing herself backwards on her cot-no, I most definitely am not acting like an overgrown spoiled child-she willed herself to start from the very beginning.
"Re-imagine my magic," she thought outloud. "How did I originally imagine my magic? When I did it with a wand?" Magic with a wand had become so routine that she didn't stop to imagine her magic working anymore; it was all reflexive. Without a wand, she couldn't begin to remember what she used to imagine to cast spells. "I have to remember in order to change, whatever it is I'm changing."
Feeling amazingly silly, Hermione closed her eyes, stretched her arm out positioning her hand as if she was holding a wand and spoke the levitation charm, over and over again until she remembered what she saw when she cast a spell. She saw magic as a tendril of light, originating from her wand, taking hold of the newspaper and lifting it. As a tool! Hermione smiled.
"Okay! Now make it part of myself instead." Should the light be coming from my hand then? She wondered."Might as well give it a try." She turned her head to look at the newspaper and stretched her hand out to it, and imagined a stream of light coming from it and enveloping the paper lifting it a few inches from the ground. When it didn't work, she tried it a few more times for good measure, but the paper remained firmly anchored by gravity. Hermione didn't mind to much though; stretching her hand out to the newspapers felt rather stupid.
"Changing tactics then. Part of myself, part of myself," she muttered. "Why am I thinking to myself out loud? I really don't know." Stop answering yourself. Hermione shook her head and picked her original thoughts back up. Simplest answer is the best. How do I normally pick things up? "With my hands. Will I be growing a third hand tonight?"
She gave the idea a whirl, attaching a hand of the same light to-I'm not really sure where -and using it to pick up the stack of papers. The paper rose, no more than an inch, and dropped. Hermione sat up quickly and tried it again. Again the newspaper came off the ground and dropped again. Hermione giggled excitedly and then sobered. I have to get it to float! She pushed her hair away from her face and imagined the hand holding the newspaper firmly and lifting it, holding it outstretched, but again, the paper rose and promptly fell.
"Nngh!" She scrubbed her face. "I'm so close! What am I missing?" She worried her lip, thinking and re-thinking her process. Part of myself. I've given myself a third arm made of magic. I'd look like a freak if it was real. She stared at her hands. Why add on an extra? I already have two hands. Magic is already a part of me. It's part of my literal being.
Hermione tried again, closing her eyes, imagining a hand of light stretching, not from some random place on her torso, but from her physical arm and shoulder, picking up the newspaper and lifting it straight up. Merlin if this doesn't work….
"Wingardium leviosa." When she opened her eyes, the newspaper was floating steadilyat eye level. Hermione jumped off her bed. "I'm a fucking witch!" Your language young lady!
Hello all! I know that took me forever to write, but I hit a bit of a block and someone asked me to make the chapters longer. I'm working on the length I promise, but I hope this was more sustaining. Thank you all for the reviews! They're almost as delicious as a good piece of ridiculously expensive dark chocolate! All the love!