Procyon Mask - Chapter 8

A/N: I'm slowly going through the first few chapters and correcting any SPAG mistakes. Hopefully by the end of the week I'll give the chapters a little update. In other news: the next chapter is here already! I've been writing a lot this week so I'm hoping to push this story forward, as well as getting the first chapter or so out for the companion piece I mentioned before.

Anyway, I hope you continue to enjoy this journey with me and if you like my little dark story please leave a review! I love hearing from you guys!

"You said he traveled a lot as a child? I suppose if his parents knew to get him tutors they weren't muggles like yours?"

"No, Radovan is a pure-blood. The Ministry's letter made a big deal about wanting all parties to respect each other, but he doesn't seem to hate muggle-borns so I don't think it'll be an issue."

"It was probably just some clause they needed to include because of the blood match up. Honestly, it's disgusting that they have to mention it in the first place. We're all witches and wizards, who you're born to shouldn't matter." Arthur spears the last bit of food on his plate, hesitating before glancing up at Hermione. "What family is he a part of?"

"His last name is Krevmaj. I haven't come across anyone that knows it yet-"

"Oh! That was the last name of a Chaser some years back. I forget what team it was… but I can go looking."

What? Was it just her or was there a little glimmer of light appearing in the darkness around her? Not that she could reach it… Hermione is exhausted. The pain around her wrist has finally stopped, but only after it felt like those iron brands had shattered the bone. And when that happened… her mind had just shut off.

"A Quidditch Chaser?" Hermione hesitantly asks. It feels weird to have her mouth move at her command rather than Barty's.

"Yeah. Svatomir Krevmaj was quite talented, new to the team and quickly gaining the favor of fans. It was horrible to see the news in the paper… There was an accident and he died. I don't know the specifics. I think it was too gruesome for the newspaper to really go into detail, but apparently his body ended up ground up so he was almost unrecognizable. They had a hard time identifying him."

"That's…"

"Horrible. And not a topic fit for the dinner table." Molly gives a pointed look at her husband, though Hermione can't tell if it's more for her benefit or just to get Arthur to shut up about it.

He swallows down the rest of his food, looking a little bashful. "Sorry, dear. You haven't really mentioned his family this whole time. That was rude of me."

"He didn't talk much about them." Hermione takes a sip of her drink, trying to calm her nerves. "Like I said, his mother died when he was young and… his father passed away as well. I honestly wasn't aware he had any other family to speak of."

"It's probably not a pleasant topic. But if he immigrated here he might still have relatives in another country. I could try reaching out to them for you-"

"Arthur!" Molly chastised, rising from her seat to begin collecting the empty dishes.

"If you wanted to know more about them, that is… She does have a right to know more about her future family, Molly. And I admit I'm a little curious myself. I want to make sure they're the reputable sort. Not like the Malfoys."

Hermione speaks up before Molly can interject again, "I appreciate it, Mr. Weasley. And if you do get in contact with them at all you can send me an owl."

"Of course, Hermione."

Molly makes a disgruntled noise, moving over to Remus. "Would you like some more tea?"

"That would be wonderful, Molly." Remus hands her his cup and Molly quickly busies herself once more. "It's reassuring to know the law hasn't affected you guys too much. I'm sure it won't be permanent. But if it leads you to finding someone you want to spend your life with then it's not all bad." He gives Hermione a small smile before glancing to the others. "Harry, you have at least a year before you get your letter don't you?"

"A little less than ten months, actually." Harry cradles his own warm mug of tea close to him, sipping on it. Evidently he was just as disturbed by Arthur's story as the rest of them.

"And Ron?"

"Almost six months," Arthur replies, glancing at the door his son had stomped through over an hour ago. He really hadn't come in yet… Was Ron that upset by the law? Arthur looks worried but he leans back in his chair with a sigh. "Ginny has more than a year. I'm hoping they rescind the law sooner rather than later. It's a bit barbaric to expect children to have offspring before really living their lives." He glances at Hermione. "I guess Radovan doesn't really have that problem, though."

"How old is Hermione's match?" Remus asks, having arrived after she had mentioned it.

"He's in his thirties."

"Ah, so he's in the age range when people typically start a family. Well, if he travels as much as Hermione said then he probably doesn't mind the little match-making help from the Ministry."

"Probably," Hermione agrees, staring at her empty plate.

Why did she have to be reminded about the damn law every other second? It's all anyone talked about. Arthur and Molly were obviously worried about their children being stuck with someone they wouldn't like. Just because Fred and George got lucky doesn't mean the Ministry's methods actually work. It could be a fluke. Or the twins were right in their assessment that it was all bollocks, and the Ministry was just matching people randomly. If you were dating someone at the time of getting your letter then there was a high probability that was your match.

It seems to be the common theme at Hogwarts at least. Cho was the only one Hermione heard of who was like her: going away on the weekends. Apparently she was matched with some quidditch player. A topic Harry avoided.

But there had to be others if McGonagall was going around and collecting contact information while students were away. Most of them were probably in their seventh year though, and Hermione didn't know many seventh year Gryffindors.

"Well, I think that's enough of that." Molly finishes gathering up all the dishes and depositing them in the sink, flicking her wand so that they start cleaning themselves before turning to face the table. "Fred, if you and Katie need help figuring out plans for your wedding you're always welcome to ask me and your father. But I think the rest of you need to get back to Hogwarts. It's getting late and I wouldn't want to trouble Minerva after she allowed you four to come out here."

"What about me?" George asks. "Do I not look like I need help?"

"I think Angelina has you covered. Tell her if she needs anything from us she only has to ask." George groans, falling back into his seat while Molly's lips twitch into a smile. "Don't be so dramatic." She turns her attention to Harry, Hermione, and Ginny. "You three can go ahead. I'll send Ron after you."

"Alright. Thank you for the food. It was lovely as always." Harry gets up, leaving his unfinished tea on the table.

"Of course, darling. And if you do get a letter, know that we're here for you."

A shiver crawls down Hermione's spine but she gets up as well, smile still intact. "Thank you for everything Mrs. Weasley." She turns and follows her friends, disappearing into the fireplace after them to return to Hogwarts.

Ginny and Harry are already seated on the couch near the fireplace in the Commons Room when she leaves McGonagall's study, likely waiting for when Ron gets back. After being chewed out by his mother for his behavior that is.

"Did you want to sit with us, Hermione?" Harry asks upon meeting her gaze. Ginny murmurs something to him and his cheeks glow softly a moment later. "Ah, right." Harry clears his throat. "You probably need to go to sleep, don't you?"

"Yeah… I do appreciate the thought, Harry. I'll see you two in the morning."

"Alright. Have sweet dreams."

"You too," she murmurs, even though all she wants to do is go and sit with them, to tell them the truth. If Ron knew who she was engaged to he wouldn't be jealous, he would be furious that her match had been tampered with. And honestly, even if he thought he was her rightful match she didn't care right now, she just wanted someone to know the truth.

After everything that had happened today… She just wanted to confide in someone, but Barty had stopped that possibility early on. Unfortunately she hadn't realized just how thorough he could be until now.

And as tired as she was… going back to her dorm room with Parvati and Lavender filled her with dread. So Hermione walks up the stairs to the girls' side, passing the door to the room she shared with her classmates and continues down the hall, opening the bathroom door.

She retrieves her towel from her locker, disrobing and shivering in the cold she moves over to the shower, testing the water until it is lukewarm and then blasting it over her body.

Hermione closes her eyes with a sigh, running her hands through her soaked hair. "Why?" she murmurs into the water, glancing to her now exposed wrist to check that it was still intact. Of course it was, but it had felt like her hand was in the middle of a roaring fire at the time.

There were no marks on her skin though, nothing to even hint at the pain she had been put through and made to endure. All because Barty couldn't have any errors in his plans. Everything had to be perfect. He had to be in complete control.

And he was.

Her body had betrayed her at his command, he had successfully molded her into a weapon to use against the Order. The fucking-

"Bastard." Hermione chokes on a sob, tears prickling at her eyes.

What did she ever do to have all this happen to her? For him to pick her of all people? Be Harry's friend? I should never have gotten close to Harry or Ron. The thought flickers through her mind and her throat clamps up on her as she forces her face under the water. She barely suppresses the sob that wants to escape her, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes so she doesn't cry.

Not here at least.

She couldn't cry here. Not when someone might hear and she wouldn't be able to answer when they asked what was wrong. Or had Barty thought of that too? If she randomly burst into tears would some fake excuse pass through her lips?

"Yeah, no. I'm just really stressed out over doing well on our first exams. Nothing to see here, guys. I'm totally not married to a Death Eater and letting him know whatever the Order's plans are, when you go and see them, if you're excited by the news or saddened. No way, I would never do that!"

It all sounds ridiculous. Hermione Granger, the top student in their year - if not the smartest witch in recent years at Hogwarts - turned into nothing more than a Death Eater's puppet.

It makes her want to scream, but even now that she can she doesn't dare. There's no excuse she could make for her behavior. The binding probably wouldn't let her do something so stupid anyway, it would go against her not letting anyone know about Barty and her situation. She can't tell anyone or show her distress over the matter. Not in front of anyone except Bartemius, that is. And Lucius, she supposes. She could probably break down in front of him without the binding activating, considering he had been the one to cast it.

Well, that was just great.

The only two people she could show her true emotions to were Death Eaters and they weren't going to comfort her over the matter. Lucius would be disgusted, throw her a handkerchief at the most, make some comment that he didn't want it back after she sullied it. Barty would likely just watch her, smiling and making some snide comment over her predicament. He would ridicule her, mentioning how far she had fallen since her Fourth Year.

It was just all so… overwhelming.

She wishes she had been better at divination. Maybe then she would have seen this coming and could've stopped it before anything happened. It seemed to be the only way she might have had an upper hand on Barty.

And she still has no idea how she is going to get around the requirement of fucking him at the end of the month. Her options were dwindling to letting Barty use whatever method he had planned to be able to stick by Harry's side, or to simply refuse to have sex with him and get sent to Azkaban. Neither option sat well with her.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she hisses through gritted teeth, knocking her head into the tile a moment later. A dull thud resounds around her, but it's not nearly loud enough to leave the thick walls of the bathroom. "God fucking damn it."

She doesn't want to be coerced into fucking him, but what else is she supposed to do?

There was that book under her bed. It had held the most information on the binding, but not enough. Not nearly enough. She needed to talk with Madam Pince after her classes tomorrow. Maybe, just maybe if she could get her hands on one she hadn't read yet there would be some answers hidden away in a page

That's really all she could hope for.

Hermione lets out a strangled cry, hands raising to quiet herself a moment later and she leans against the shower wall, shivering as the water turns cold. At some point she turns it off, dries herself with the towel, changes into her pajamas, and slips into her dorm room to go to sleep.

The following morning she urges herself out of bed, to go down and eat with the others, acting like everything is normal. Like it's just another day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

She doesn't miss the fact that Ron keeps sneaking glances at her, that Harry is now whispering to them about how the Order is gaining new members. Thankfully he doesn't know any specific names, but a cold dead weight settles in her stomach as he speaks. She shouldn't be listening to any of this. She should be focusing on coming up with an excuse and getting far away from her friends, but Barty's words stop her.

"You are to listen carefully to any words pertaining to the Order. I don't care how mundane it is, you'll report back to me on the weekend. Got it?" A pause. "Good. We're starting to understand each other. I look forward to your continued cooperation, darling."

Hermione hurries down the hall after her classes, ignoring Harry's shout to wait up. She just doesn't have the time, and this was for his sake after all.

"Miss Granger, don't be running in the halls." She slows to a halt as McGonagall rounds a corner, frowning at her. "What on earth has you in such a hurry? I'm fairly certain you know the rules."

"Sorry, Professor. I accidentally left some notes in a book at the library."

McGonagall quirks a brow at her. "Really now? Did Harry let you know that I was wanting to speak with you?"

Couldn't she have picked a better time to do this? "Yes, he did."

"And when were you going to see me about your weekend trips? Or did you plan on just running off again?"

Hermione bites her lip. "I was going to come and speak with you after going to the library."

"Well then, I don't see why we can't have the conversation now."

Hermione nearly grits her teeth. Just how bad was her luck? "Of course, Professor."

She follows McGonagall down the hall and to her empty classroom, to the office in the back before sitting down across from her teacher.

"Well? Where did you go last weekend? You didn't leave the boundary of the British Ministry, did you?"

"No." She couldn't, not unless she was with Barty. "I didn't leave. I met my match at a hotel and spent the night there. His work requires him to be constantly on the move, so he gave me a portkey that would take me to him on the weekends so we could see each other for the required time. I don't actually know where I'm going till I'm there." Hopefully that would satisfy her. If not… Hermione didn't know what else she could say to convince McGonagall that she wasn't in danger on the weekends or getting up to mischief.

McGonagall purses her lips at her words. "I see. And the portkey in question?"

Hermione hesitantly pulls the medallion from her breast pocket, placing it on the desk. "I activate it with a phrase. I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner, but I got his letter late on Friday and had to make a run for the Hogwarts' boundary so I could activate it to begin with."

McGonagall picks up the medallion, glancing over it and the odd picture it creates from its gems. She turns it in her hands, as if to investigate it further before stopping short and blinking once. Her face shifts into something unreadable and she quickly sets it back on the desk. "I'm sorry for pestering you. A lot of my students have been taking this opportunity to mess around outside of the school. It could reflect badly on us as teachers."

"I understand. Was there… anything else you need to know?" She has to suppress the urge to tap her foot against the stone. What if the book she needed was finally checked in? Even if Barty said it wouldn't be… She had to try.

The professor had gone silent, just staring at the medallion. "No. Nothing else. You're dismissed, Miss Granger. Thank you for letting me know what you could for your weekend trips. And if you're ever told beforehand where you're going you can mention it after class or in a letter. With things the way they are I would like to be able to reach out to my students when the war officially starts now that he is back. You'll all be safest in Hogwarts' walls."

Not if a Death Eater comes through the Room of Requirement.

Hermione tries to open her mouth to warn the professor, but she can't. Her wrist is already growing warm, embers flickering along the skin, threatening to turn into flames that'll lash at her wrist before mentally silencing her.

She really can't do a single thing to help them, much less herself.

…what was going to happen to her if Voldemort won the war? Did Barty already have a plan for that? Bloody hell.

"It's no problem, Professor." The warmth at her wrist recedes and she picks up the medallion, slipping it back into her breast pocket, the smooth stone laying heavy over her heart. "I'll try to keep you updated when I can."

"Thank you, Miss Granger. If you happen to see Mr. Finnegan in the halls please tell him to come speak with me. That boy is a human match."

Hermione snorts softly, almost chuckling. "I'll see what I can do."

McGonagall nods, leaning back in her chair and looking exhausted as Hermione gets up and leaves the room. That seems to be a common look on the faces of adults these days. Dread for when the war would start, knowing that their students and children would get dragged into the war because they hadn't been able to stop it the first time.

She hurries down the hall to the library, determined to speak with Madam Pince and hopefully - by some damn miracle - find a way out of the binding and her marriage so she could stop being used by Barty before he got anything useful out of her.