chapter 5
Inventory
"I just don't understand it, Hermione. You don't make any sense," Ron grumbled. "I always knew you were backwards in ways but this. This is mad."
The three best friends gathered at the sleepy-eyed table of Gryffindors, ready to head back to bed after breakfast before a day out on the town. A few sixth and seventh years looked rather peppy. Their bright smiling faces pulled larger scowls from those in need of more slumber. Late nights in Gryffindor Tower were not uncommon on Fridays and Saturdays. Younger years loved to celebrate freedom from their parents with boycotts on acceptable bedtimes. In the end, it did them less good.
Hermione rose at her usual time. She'd done a job with her hair. It was less poofy when she worked with it for a while in front of a mirror and a great deal of patience. It took twice as long since she was a bundle of nerves.
It was the day in Hogsmeade with Draco Malfoy.
She used both hands to sip from her teacup. "Thank you for that observation, Ronald."
"You're barmy."
"So, what's Malfoy up to these days?" It was Harry who spoke that time. "Bullying first years? Hexing everyone with backbone and a conscious?"
Hermione ventured a glance across the room. Draco's seat at Slytherin faced hers.
He wore casual clothes, all black, ready for an outing to the village. She pictured him somewhere in a town surrounded by Muggles, watching a sports match perhaps. A quite handsome bloke outside all the nonsense they found themselves in. In a perfect world.
She shrugged. "Most likely. It is Draco."
"Then what the bloody hell are you doing? He's evil. The whole lot of those Slytherins are in with Him. Malfoy especially," Harry ranted, careful to keep his voice low enough so another fight between his house mates didn't happen over if Voldemort was truly risen like many times before. "He probably wants to offer you up to Voldemort as a sacrifice."
The look of rage in his face as she glanced over his shoulder scared her. Harry was not in control of himself. It was a look she was well acquainted with over their many mischiefs over the years, and it was concerning how quick he heated to a fight. As if he couldn't wait.
He stared at an untouched plate, gripping his fork tighter and tighter.
It was not the time. The meeting took place today. She needed him on board.
"Are you ready for today?" She asked with the lightest tone possible.
To her right across the table, Ron reached for a second helping of sausage. He ate noisily. Juices squirted from the casing as he bit into a fresh one, clear fats ran down his chin. He took Harry watch duty very seriously, forgoing meals if it required, and since all appetite escaped Harry these days, it required a bit more frequently than he liked.
She tried her best to spend time with them both. Her best friends needed her. Yet, every time she came around with some offer of solution or help, Harry snapped and rushed off somewhere to sulk in shadows and torture himself with the thought of Voldemort out in the world.
No one believed him. They thought of him as a liar. She reminded herself of that many a time, but it still ached to see him turn against her as if she was one of them. Hermione never doubted that he came back. It was tearing her best friend apart. Only a powerful wizard could do that.
"Not really," he replied blandly.
"It will be very good for everyone to learn. From you. It will mean a great deal."
He sighed. "They all think I'm mental, Hermione. It's all going to be a big joke. You'll see."
She looked to Ron for help. He, also, believed in the idea. He'd told her so when Harry was at yet another one of his detentions.
Her piercing stare finally roused him from his plate. His eyes grew slightly.
"They are serious, you know. Real go-getters, they are." Ron lowered his fork as he looked for more words to say, much to the notice of his fellow table mates. Hermione was in disbelief at how awful he was assisting her in calming Harry's nerves. In turn, he was picking at hers. "All of them want to learn from the best. That's you, Harry. You've taken on dementors and three-headed dogs, and Voldemort himself. Loads of times."
Harry dropped his goblet to the table with a loud clatter. "How many times do I have to say that it was luck?"
His footsteps were lost to the rising commotion of the Great Hall as he stormed out. Ron followed behind. His eyes downturned in concern. He looked back at Hermione with a questioning gaze which she answered back with a forced smile, and he carried on after their friend.
Both their hearts were torn. They felt the ends of Harry, things that made him so wonderful and kind, stretched thin from the pressures he felt weigh on his shoulders. He carried the world there. Little did he know, friends carried other pressures in his wake.
One night in a fit of exhaustion and distress, Ronald confided that Harry's nightmares left him screaming half the night. Cedric. It was what was screamed the most, Ron said. He sat up most nights just to make sure Harry still breathed. The amount he tossed and turned left Ron worried that he'd stress himself into a heart attack.
She watched them walk off with a heavy heart. Things were not well.
A voice emerged beside her just as she turned around. "What was that about?"
Hermione, already a quaking body of worries, yelped. She clutched her chest as the youngest Weasley furrowed her brow in concern. The witch wore her warm jumper. It was clear that she intended to venture to town before she met up with them at Hog's Head.
She helped herself to some porridge and toast, a spot of tea and potatoes before she turned back to her friend.
"Well?"
"Harry is a bit nervous," Hermione lied. She lied through her teeth to another one of her best friends. It was a wretched feeling, familiar since she'd taken to lying to her other ones about Draco. "He'll be around soon enough."
She grabbed hold of a teacup until any more lies, or worse the truth, would spill out.
"You sure it isn't the fact that you're in bed with the enemy?"
Ginny said it as if it was the most common to say to a friend. Hermione gasped, blushed and stumbled around with words as one would expect a friend to do when insulted on a personal level.
The two girls were best friends on the account of being the only two girls in a gang of boys. They were outnumbered in everything. It was what brought them together in the first place, to unite against the numerous attempts of pure stupidity that meant to bring each Weasley brother and Harry to certain harm.
It was the first girlfriend that Hermione ever had. Even in primary school before her letter from Hogwarts she never had a play mate that was a girl. The territory was new. Exciting. Ginny was a long overdue stereotype from childhood that Hermione yearned for all her years alive, only to find it from her two best guy friends. Finally another witch to confide in.
Apparently, the friendship only went so far.
"I'm not in bed with anybody, Ginny."
"Are you sure, pet?"
It hurt to be clearly despised by a dear friend. One with whom she pictured being more like-minded than her two other friends whom understood very little when it came to things beyond their own circle of awareness.
If only they knew how forced into the association she was. What little choice she was left. She'd protect Harry to the ends of the Earth, even if he didn't appreciate it one bit.
She looked at her best friend with such hurt. "I know you don't understand it. I didn't ask you to. But I thought you'd at least support me in the decision. I am your friend, too, am I not?"
"Don't you get it, Mione? I'm not angry that your friends with him. Well, maybe a little bit but that isn't my point." Ginny Weasley gripped the bench with all her might. Her knuckles turned white under the pressure. "I'm pissed because you let another person treat you that way and you just take it. Excuse it away like he hasn't bullied you for years. Years. If I didn't know better, I'd have sworn he liked you."
Like. Ha!
The way Draco Malfoy treated Hermione was no way to express feelings other than deep seeded hatred, which incidentally was the correct one judging by the actual statement he gave in the library the night before. He hated her. Nothing more can be said on the subject.
"Using that logic, one can also arrive at the belief that he really likes Harry and Ron, and Neville."
"Wizards don't count. They'll fight over anything just to be the better one. Trust me, I know. I've got brothers," Ginny retorted. "You're a witch, Hermione. A brilliant, talented, strong witch. What wizard isn't intimidated and attracted to that? Malfoy may be repugnant in every way, but that doesn't mean he's immune to such feelings."
Now that was too far.
Hermione crossed her arms. "You are not seriously implying that Draco Malfoy has a crush on me."
"I can't say what his feelings are, but I know they're not what he displays."
"So what's your problem that we're friends?"
Alarms scoured her body when a sad smile crossed her friends' lips, hands slid into hers with a steady eye. It felt like a moment when worlds shattered. Revelations of things bigger than life.
And right now, she could not deal with any of those.
Breakfast was almost at an end. Most of the Slytherin table was gone.
Oh, shoot. She'd lost Malfoy in the madness. He must have went on to Hogsmeade without her. That would cost her big time.
"He isn't friends with you. He's preventing himself from confronting his feelings for you by making sure you can't develop any feelings for anyone else either. That isn't friendship. It's control."
It was laughable. Utterly hysterical.
"Ginny you've gotten this entire thing wrong."
"Want to double date? Once you get him to admit his feelings for you, obviously," Ginny said with a surprisingly straight face. "I don't think you should see him until he does that. It isn't healthy what he's doing. It's even worse on all of us. Harry just gets mad about it and rants to anyone who makes the mistake of being near. It is unbelievably awkward."
There were so many directions to respond to, the most trying being the part about double dating with Draco bleeding Malfoy! What on Earth was wrong with this witch? Then of course, Ginny wanted her to avoid Draco, which could not happen if she wished to keep Harry out of trouble.
News of Harry's anger about it did not feel good either. She knew he was furious. It was their childhood bully with whom she cavorted with. However, there was nothing unsavory about it. They did not flaunt it in front of him. He was never around to begin with.
He was the one who retreated. She didn't even know what his problem was. All he did was get angry and storm off. Ron and Hermione gave their best effort to be supportive to him in any way he might need, but it was not enough to keep him calm.
The battle for Harry Potter was pulled onto Voldemort's side rather than theirs.
She knew the signs. The lack of sleep, mumbling of dreams, his scar pain, the uncontrollable rage. Dark was claiming his soul. Darkness had inched its way inside, now ready to fight over the fickle light that was there.
Exposure to rotten things made the hold stronger. He was raised by abusive caregivers (she refused to think of them as his family since they were so horrible), near death experiences every school year, the most evil being ever to walk attempts to murder him to control the world and now ostracized in the last sanctuary he had left. So much black clouded his life.
It made the fight that much harder.
Opting to avoid the topic of Draco Malfoy, Hermione asked, "Why are things awkward around Harry?"
Her friend pushed her lips into a thin line and shrugged. "Oh. I don't know. It's just that I spent so much time, pining for him, that being friends is a bit awkward. Every time I start to stare into his green eyes I remember how beautiful they are and just want to stay that way forever." She gave a delighted sigh, clearly lost in thought.
Ginny's long-standing crush on Harry was clearly not as over as the witch proclaimed.
She swallowed back the urge to tell her so. It was not the right time. Michael and Ginny were good together. They deserved a chance to develop something legitimate without Harry in the way.
It was a sorry thing to move on from a wizard whom was best friends with her brother. She sat him every holiday, all term, and most possibly after their Hogwarts education. That was a difficult fate to escape.
Hermione patted her leg. "They are very pretty eyes."
"They are!" Ginny repeated. Then she sank into a small voice. "They are. Very pretty."
Both girls sat there in the quiet of the Great Hall as the world passed on by them. Plates were cleared away. Food taken back to the kitchens by house elves. Professors left their high table to go about their own activities. Most students were gone. The only ones that remained had towers of books on each side, quill in hand and nose buried deep into an assignment.
Sometime later, shadows fell over the two witches. They turned in surprise.
Hermione deflated. "I should go."
Ginny looked up at their two scowled faces, not impacted by the intimidating nature they were going for. They put it on every time they approached Hermione with word from Draco and since she detested the way he ordered her around in spite of her agreement to be willing, she took her rage out on the followers.
This morning, she was not in the mood to fight. There was too much at stake to allow something impact her time with Draco thus delaying the meeting.
"Ah, the bodyguards. Busy day?" She greeted them with a teasing smile.
"Shut it, Weasley."
"Welp. I did my good deed for the day," Ginny said. "Sod off, prats."
She gave Hermione a nod before she left the table, shoved her way through the dense wall of Slytherin potato heads and walked off.
Said potato heads waited for Hermione to gather her sweater, jumper, hat, and gloves, and stalked her toward the courtyard where a group of fifth year Slytherins waited.
Draco was at the head of the group, one hand in his pocket the other displaying a watch to his face as he tapped his toes. Pansy had her arms crossed. The look on her face read the total look of disgust as Hermione came closer, and it made her want to turn the other way and flee the opposite direction as it was meant to. Pansy did the exact thing to fourth years; they'd dealt with her bullying the longest, so they knew when to run.
There was Daphne Greengrass, Theo Nott, Tracey Davis, and Millicent Bulstrode, too.
They all waited with their hands in their pockets, leaned against something as they mumbled amongst themselves.
"About time, pet," Draco said coolly. "I don't like to be kept waiting."
He seemed in a mood, so she said nothing. Instead she fell in line right behind him on the right side at the front of Slytherins and marched in silence as they moved toward Hogsmeade.
They seemed to be used to her already. The Slytherin's ignored her as they conversed.
"How come Blaise didn't come?" Daphne questioned.
"Don't know," Theo answered. "Said he would last night."
"He was sleeping when I came down for breakfast," Crabbe said. "Didn't look like he'd been up yet."
Pansy scoffed. "That's not like him. Doesn't he pride himself on being so punctual with the day?"
"Must have drank something that made him sleepy," Draco mumbled under his breath.
No one except Hermione heard him. She watched him closely as they walked the long way to the village.
He had long strides. As he walked his legs extended out in front of him like two broomsticks, narrow and rigid. His back, too, was kept rigid. Draco prided himself on his appearance. He walked with absolute assurance none of his clothes would be disturbed. She saw him cast the cleaning spell twice to rid his boots of filth. Filth on the very ground in which they walked where filth was a constant.
She noticed the way his jaw tensed as they neared the village. He stood straighter (how was that possible?). Wand very near the palm of his hand from the accessible holder at his forearm. Hermione worried over what conflicts were expected on the trip and readied herself to sling a few spells on the fly.
Hogsmeade village was the only all magical town in Britain. It was filled entirely of magical peoples. A large cobblestone street lined with shops was the center of town where most students congregated during the free weekends. There were little cottages filled with specialty items. Honeydukes was also along this stretch. It was most popular with younger years.
There was a little tea shop off the main road. Madame Puddifoot's. It was ghastly, but with very few choices for more intimate settings, Hogwarts couples loved to order their coffee in the crowded shop and curl up together for a bit of quality time. The tacky green and pink-dotted curtains were adorned with oversized bows. It was over-the-top romance.
Far out of town was the infamous Shrieking Shack, the most haunted building in all of Britain. It attracted wizards and witches from all around. It helped keep the town alive when Hogwarts turned dead at term end.
The majority of the town was pleasant looking. More so during the holidays when the town decorated their trees and lampposts with enchanted candles. Worthy of a postcard if wizards had such things.
As they walked through town, the group got smaller and smaller as branches of them broke out on their own adventure. Pansy and Tracey went off into a robe shop with the hopes of finding something new. Crabbe stopped off at Madame Puddifoot's for a spot of tea and biscuits though having finished breakfast not long ago. Goyle and Theo had entered a Quidditch shop, Spintwitches Sporting Needs, along with most of the older wizards apart of house teams before Draco even overlooked his shoulder.
"Come. This way," was all he said.
She was quite curious as to where he might lead. He stepped with intention. His mind was made up where their destination was, information on such a list that she found herself not privy too until arrival.
There was a cauldron shop. Matte black of every size hung from the rafters of the small shop. She paused and peered in.
A tiny little man with a drooping hat stirred over the largest cauldron she'd ever seen. The insides were neon purple. A distinct silver shimmered reflected candlelight. The man pulled a vial from his breast pocket, tipped the lip ever so slight so that only one droplet of the potion fell into the open mouth of the pot and the potion changed from purple to blood red. Bits of the concoction bubbled up. It spat right into the man's face.
She reached for her wand, ready to assist the man when he just shook his head and grumbled, "Blasted stuff," and wiped it away.
There was no visible injury. His skin was the same as it had been.
A hand touched hers on the glass. She hadn't realized that she'd pressed herself against the glass.
She glanced over at Draco with surprise.
He snapped his hand back to his side. "Come, pet. It is a bit further. Try not to wander."
She frantically searched her mind for an answer. Eventually she came up with, "I thought he needed help."
"Cannot save everyone," Draco said blandly. "If it was his time to go by potion mishap, then it was his time. Cannot stop the world from horrors, Granger. Horrors happen whether we like it or not."
"Must be nice to enjoy them," she murmured.
It was half-hearted at best.
They left the main road. Draco splintered off into smaller streets, doorstep after doorstep around them. There were alleys with broken brooms, bent owl cages and leaves blown in from the surrounding wood.
Draco gestured to weakened cobblestones once or twice, ensuring she didn't fall over them as they passed. It went on forever in those streets until she was sure they weren't in the village anymore when they stumbled upon a small cottage on the edge of town.
Goosebumps crept up her flesh. It was alone. Forgotten. Trees formed a dense canopy above the roof, little sunlight punctured the green ceiling. A blanket of black over the entire plot.
The rough stucco turned tan the closer they approached; the dark lifted to a shade of similar hues as the others in Hogsmeade. There was a rounded archway at the start to the property along the fence and again at the front door. Just above the doorway was an eyebrow window. It was whimsical to see in real life. Britain rarely had such buildings anymore. Hermione was enchanted by the little house otherwise overlooked on the street.
Draco Malfoy kept straight along his way directly to the cottage as she slowed.
There were no signs on the street. It did not look a shop of any kind.
"Dr-draco. I think someone lives here." Her voice was small.
He snorted. "Course someone lives here."
His arm outstretched and waited for her to come by his side. Like it was normal. Normal for him to be so genuine and un-prat like toward her.
She didn't think it was possible, but her goosebumps raised a centimeter higher.
The wizard knocked on the oak door. It groaned open. Two large, black eyes peered from behind.
"Yes?" It hissed.
Hermione gulped her fear down, fingering the wand at her side.
Draco did not greet the man nor identify himself. "I have come to see your inventory. Like we discussed."
Inventory? What sort of place was it?
The cottage door opened, pitch black within, and swallowed them whole as they stepped through a portal seemingly because on the other side was a well-lit room adorned in flowering wallpaper all blossoms opened up to the light, crimson curtains over strange shaped windows of color glass, thick trim of warm wood all over and chocolate embroidered furniture. A cauldron boiled overtop embers of a fireplace. Steam rolled from the lip of the lid.
Man, cloaked in grey robes, crossed through the room toward the alcove kitchen. Draco followed, hand in pocket, all too cavalier in the foreign place.
Frames on the walls were of poisonous plants. Sweetheart ivy vines tangled in the wooden frame. It batted at her as she hopped by. She rested her palm against her wand from that point on.
A hidden staircase behind the cupboards invited them deeper into the dwelling. Air turned damp as they descended. It was silent. None of their pounding steps echoed through the bricked column they spiraled down, growing blacker as they pushed on. The heat of her breath was the only warmth she felt.
Except at the nape of her neck where nervous sweat collected. It frizzed her baby hairs out of her spell.
She kept her pace slow in case of ambush at the bottom. Her fingers tensed at the hilt of her wand as the floor neared. Strain gathered in her spine. It forced shocks of nervous twitches throughout her body. Every new sensation warranted a careful look into naught but darkness.
Hermione glanced back up the way she came, certain she'd heard another on the staircase, and when she turned back, a pale hand shot through the dark. Her wand flew to her fingers. It reached out past the hand to the body it was attached. Her heart throbbed in her ears.
Trusting Malfoy was a big mistake. What a surprise! Now she had to battle her way out of whatever madness he'd stolen her away to.
The wand stayed fixed and level until Draco melted into sight. Her wood was at his throat.
He lifted a brow, and she lowered it, though the thought to curse him crossed her mind. It would not solve her problems. He still held power over her. Baiting Harry into a duel was easier than breathing for him.
"No need to jump at shadows when you're with me," he murmured.
"Why, because you're the one I should look out for?"
The wand slipped back into her pocket, easy to reach but out of sight. The insult of pulling a wand on a stranger was not well received. She didn't want the cloaked man to be misunderstand her intention.
Draco smirked. "If I wanted to hurt you, I'd do it already."
"I wish you would," Hermione replied.
"Better to leave you in suspense. You're quite unhinged with the unexpected."
She glared and crossed her arms.
They finished the length of the stairs and reached the bottom just as the man waved his wand over an empty space of wall.
Cracks grew through the wall. Bits of wall flew creating a dense cloud of dust.
Draco snarled and casted a spell that dispersed the dust away from their clothes. "Careful, Lafont. You do know how much this coat costs, don't you?"
Discomfort of the quiet riled her nerves once more. What was behind the door? Why must they be so quiet? How much trouble was Draco in?
The cracks formed a ragged doorway. Draco and Hermione were waved through in front of the man, raising her tension from her knees to her neck.
Oh, Godric.