XXVI
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Hermione had enjoyed her second Gifting Gala as much as one could while being constantly reminded of their greatest sin; which is to say, she endured the night through the aid of alcohol, Absinthian, and Draco's soft scribbling of sigils onto her skin. There had been a few good moments, like kissing her fiancé on the dance floor, and a comical conversation she'd had with Delilah, Mariko-san, and the youngest daughter of Ethiopia's magical leader. But other than that, the evening had dragged on for an eternity and a half.
Draco had escorted her to her quarters when the last guests had finally disappeared, and after quickly slipping out of her sapphire gown and jewels, she'd performed the glamour-unraveling charm her beauticians had taught her and slipped under her bedcovers. It had taken her less than a minute to fall asleep.
She'd slept away much of the next day, of course. After awakening at half past noon, she'd had a light meal and spent some time in the library, researching obscure astrological magic and rituals. After having dinner, she had passed the rest of the evening discussing trivialities with Delilah. Draco had work to sort out, apparently, and Hermione didn't see him at all that day.
The morning after that, however, he met her on the terrace for breakfast, as he usually did.
For a moment, Hermione silently wondered at the fact that she could tell something was bothering him. When had she become so attuned to the young wizard? Her cheeks reddened slightly when she realized it was probably about the same time she'd begun mindlessly undressing him in Italy. She startled a bit when he spoke.
"What are you thinking about that's making you blush?" He questioned with a teasing smirk. The girl swallowed her bite of strawberry and dodged his quip with a question of her own.
"What's upsetting you? You've been distracted all morning, and you still haven't broken your habit of playing with your ring when you're tense."
Draco sobered instantly, his eyes lowering to his coffee. "It's nothing to worry over."
"Is it work?"
"No."
Hermione set her fork down. "Then it's something personal that I ought to know about."
The boy was visibly uncomfortable, as if he were debating whether or not to tell her something. He sighed.
"I've been thinking about when we were outside the other night," he began. "It was a bit unsettling to hear that you'd so gladly kill my godfather for what was supposed to be my task."
Draco looked up at her finally, the contemplative expression on her face worsening his unease. She was quiet for a few seconds, then met his stare, speaking softly.
"Harry saw it all, you know. He was under his invisibility cloak. You lowered your wand, Draco, and knowing you as I do now, I'm certain it wasn't a deceptive maneuver. You weren't about to kill the headmaster."
She reached across their little table to take his hands, but he pulled away, and his eyes once again were cast to his feet.
"You're wrong..." He looked up to see confusion in her features, and he swallowed. "Can I show you something?"
Mild alarm was circulating through Hermione's system, but she nodded, standing and following him through the Manor.
They came to a room she had never been in, on the second floor and close to the family's wing. It was similar to the room of artifacts at the Descendant Manor, but the items in this room were not locked behind wards and curses, and in fact looked as though they were used quite regularly. Draco led her to the back of the room, where a beautiful column stood.
"A Pensieve," Hermione breathed, staring at the ornately carved marble. She had read so much about them, and she knew the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts had one, but she'd never seen it.
The young wizard beside her walked up to the cabinet next to the Pensieve and touched the tip of his wand to it, whispering an incantation and then unlocking the cupboard.
There were several glass vials inside, each one containing a swirling silver substance. Draco glanced over them, selecting one of the little bottles and staring at it for a moment. His eyes flicked up to hers, and he held it out for her to take.
Hermione closed her fingers around the glass, transfixed by the glowing memories it contained. She was about to unstopper the vial when her fiancé murmured "wait," then took her face in his hands and kissed her fiercely. His expression was apprehensive when he pulled away, and the girl wondered what on earth she was about to view. Clearly whatever it was made him believe she would return to hating him after she saw it.
The girl took a deep breath and tipped the bottle she held over the silver basin before her, while Draco moved to stare out the window, his fingers absentmindedly tracing over the ring adorning his right hand.
Draco looked up from his potions homework when a shadow fell across his paper; the blasted parchment was due the next morning, and given that he'd been… preoccupied, as of late, he'd neglected it until the last moment. He glared at Snape for interrupting.
"Is there something I can help you with, Professor?"
The elder wizard slammed the book his godson had been reading shut. "You will come with me," he growled, sweeping from the room seconds later. The boy had to suppress a groan as he stood and headed after the Potions Master.
They made their way to Snape's office, and the Professor tossed up several security wards in addition to the ones already present. Then he turned to Draco.
"Whatever new absurdity you're plotting, you may cease."
"What are you talking about?" The boy hissed instinctively, despite the fact that his godfather already knew of his task. The Potions Master shot the boy a sneer.
"Young Malfoy, you have all the subtlety of a wand in the eye. It's a pity you're so like your father that way." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Things have changed. Dumbledore has confided in me, and it appears he was foolish enough to attempt donning the Resurrection Stone. Somehow he managed to temporarily contain the curse on it to his hand, but he has very little time left on this earth."
Draco felt something like hope flood him. "He's dying? You're certain?"
Snape nodded. "He has asked me to end him when the time comes, so as to 'spare you the anguish.' Evidently, he has known about your scheming since the beginning of the year."
The relief the boy had felt quickly turned to dread, then back to relief, as he realized that if the Headmaster had wanted him dead, he would be dead already. He couldn't contain the shuddering breath he exhaled.
"Has the Dark lord been informed?"
"Of course he has, you simpleton," Snape said with a quelling glance. "I'm only telling you because he wishes you to focus now on repairing the Vanishing Cabinet. Dumbledore will die, and we only need a few colleagues with us to ensure the rest of the night goes smoothly."
Draco nodded, but his godfather wasn't finished speaking. He placed a firm hand on the boy's shoulder when he made to brush past.
"The Headmaster cannot know you've been told any of this, not even when the light is leaving his eyes. He is powerful, and any tip of the hand may be enough to make him reconsider his acceptance of his death. Do you understand?"
The young Malfoy nodded, and Snape mirrored the action.
The scene morphed then, and suddenly Hermione found herself on the steps of the astronomy tower. Draco was conversing with his godfather.
"What if he draws his wand on me?" The young wizard posed, his brow creased in anxiety.
"He is not going to harm you, Draco. You are not to mutter a single spell, is that perfectly clear? Or must I resort to disarming you as a precaution?"
The boy glared up at Snape, then the familiar crack of someone Apparating sounded through the stairwell from above. There were muffled voices, and Draco gulped as he slowly began to ascend the steps.
Dumbledore appeared to be waiting for the boy. He loosely held his wand as he began speaking, his voice weak as he watched the young wizard slowly lower his own weapon. Suddenly Severus was there, and an "Expelliarmus" flung the length of Elder from the old man's reach. Something flashed in the Headmaster's eyes, but Draco couldn't determine what it was.
The two Death Eaters were soon joined by several of their comrades, with Bellatrix cackling and Fenrir growling like an animal behind them. Dumbledore's eyes sought the Potions Master's.
"Severus-"
A jet of green light hit the old wizard, and he fell backwards, dead.
Draco stared in shock for a moment. His aunt laughed maniacally, rushing to the edge of the tower and casting the Dark Mark into the sky while the other Death Eaters began to descend into the rest of the school. Snape lightly grabbed the boy's arm and pulled him towards the stairwell, snapping him out of his trance.
The young Malfoy felt an almost euphoric sensation sweep him. He had done his part. Dumbledore was now nothing more than a memory. The Dark Lord would be pleased.
Hermione straightened and swiped a tear from her cheek. Dumbledore's death was incredibly difficult to watch, even though she had already been given details by Harry. She could've pulled away from the memory, of course, but it had felt like something she needed to see.
Glancing around the room, she found her fiancé staring out the window, still tracing the crest of his ring. She swallowed.
"Why did you show me this?"
Draco didn't turn. "The only reason I wasn't the one to kill him was because it didn't matter anymore… Not because of any reservations I held."
His expression was carefully neutral when he finally whirled to face her. "I lowered my wand because it was part of an act. A 'deceptive maneuver,' as you put it. I would have killed him, Granger. It just worked out that I didn't have to."
The boy fully expected her to turn her anger towards him; he even anticipated another slap like he'd received in third year, or perhaps much worse. But she merely closed her eyes for a moment as if praying, then walked up to stand in front of him.
Hermione brushed the pad of her thumb over his cheek, examining the confusion in his eyes. She let out a low sigh.
"I've been thinking about what I said a few nights ago, too, and I've been contemplating my… attitude towards Snape. I know the stars were set on their paths in regards to Professor Dumbledore's fate, as they are with all of us. But I'm angry with Snape because he lied to me and the people I cared about. He betrayed us."
The girl bit her lip. "Did you want to kill him, Draco? Actually want to?"
He looked lost for a moment, then his stare moved to the floor. "I wanted to succeed at what was asked of me."
The girl could read between the lines of what he was saying. He didn't explicitly want to kill the headmaster, but death was the alternative. He'd chosen to stay alive, and how on earth could she blame him when he'd been raised the way he had?
"I'm not angry with you. You were sixteen, and given a mission by the most powerful wizard in the world. There was no other option."
She stretched onto her toes and kissed him, her fingers gently stroking his hair. When they separated, she continued to cradle his face in her palm, whispering.
"The past is the past. Our choices, whether we regret them or not, have led us to where we are. All that's left for us is to look forward and do the best we can with the knowledge that we have. The stars do the rest."
"That's a bit fatalistic, isn't it?" He murmured, and she gave him a humourless chuckle.
"I suppose it is. But don't you agree?"
Draco thought for a moment, considering his past decisions and how many of them he resented. His intended's warm brown eyes gazed up at him, so beautiful and pure. He had never done a thing in his life to deserve even a passive glance from her. The stars truly were the only explanation.
"I do."
As he kissed her again, teasing her lips apart to taste her more fully, his last coherent thought before losing himself in her was that perhaps the one thing his mother's family had gotten right was naming their descendants after the heavens.
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