Chapter 12
What a shit Christmas it was.
Draco stared down at his plate, trying hard not to move a muscle or attract attention. In front of him sat his mother, her trembling hands poking the orange-glazed duck. He raised his glance just for a moment to look at her. Although she was attempting to appear as calm and composed as possible, Draco knew her well enough to recognise the growing worry hidden in subtle details, such as the way she compulsively clutched her fork, the anxious quivering of her pursed lips, and the slight rigidness of her shoulders.
All around them, several sets of vicious eyes were roaming around the table. Among them were Dolohov, the Carrow sisters, Pettigrew, and Yaxley. All of them sat with arrogant grins splashed on their faces, a black hood covering their heads and the Death Eater masks resting on the side of their plate.
In the past months, The Death Eaters had cramped Malfoy Manor and used it as headquarters. Laughing, shouting, and eating their food. He had spent the last weeks cloistered away in his bedroom, wishing that a spell would make all of it go away. He had thought about his father, rotting away in a lonely and icy prison cell, and then his mother, forced to live with those people for the past several months. His heart was constantly shrouded in crippling fear.
Tonight, silence enveloped the room like a thick mist. The only sound reaching his ears was the hissing of that disgusting snake, coiling around The Dark Lord's left hand like a sneaky vicious demon. Right by him sat Bellatrix, her jarred yellowed teeth showing from the wide grin she always wore when she was close to her master, and her eyes shining with a light of wickedness that looked terrifying.
On the other side of the table, Snape kept eying him with a look that seemed both bored and irritated, and the permanent gloom shaping his features had intensified even more.
The dining hall of Malfoy Manor had been arranged with maniacal care this year.
A long tablecloth, red as the blood drooling from Nagini's venomous teeth, was decorating the ambiance. The room was cold and bathed in darkness so that it would accommodate the light-sensitive eyesight of the reptile sneaking around his dinner table. All the windows had been shut, and the only dim source of light came from a small candlelight placed at the very center of the room.
Draco ate his food with shaky hands, well concealed by the black gloves he was wearing.
The dinner was almost over, and Draco was about to sigh in relief, but then those slitted red eyes he had been trying to avoid all evening landed on him.
"Draco, why don't you tell us about your plan? I would love to hear about your progress."
At that, he saw his mother tense up even more than she already was, and they briefly exchanged a look heavy with fear. At the same time, his aunt's face lit up with excitement and anticipation, and she leapt out of her seat to draw near to him and rest a hand on his shoulder. He resisted the immediate urge to recoil at the touch.
"Yes, Draco, please, enlighten us with your mission." she said.
"It's going very well. I have almost finished repairing the Vanishing Cabinet. The fool suspects nothing at all." The words felt slippery and tense in his mouth, and he hoped they couldn't hear the nervousness in his voice. Weakness was not an option at that table.
"I hope you are right, Draco. I would not want you to be a disappointment like your father. That would not please me very much." The threat in the Dark Lord's voice was evident, and it was surrounded by a hint of amusement.
Draco clenched his jaw and then bowed his head.
"I understand, my Lord."
"Very well. I am expecting a great deal from you, young Malfoy."
"It's a great honour for me." Draco said.
Their exchange was interrupted by a house elf entering the dining hall. The small creature, Tippy, was trembling more than falling leaves in autumn. As he was grabbing the remaining plates from the table, he slipped and all the plates and glasses he was holding flew up in the air before they collapsed to the ground.
The sound of shattering glass reverberated through the room like the ring of a bell. It lasted a fraction of a second, but it was enough for the hall to fall completely quiet once again. In that moment the tension and the horror that jolted through Draco's body were indescribable.
For a couple of moments, no one said a word. All the Death Eaters naturally turned their heads towards the head of the table, where The Dark Lord was sitting.
"Nagini, it seems like your dinner will be served earlier than expected. Have a treat."
Draco closed his eyes, but he could still hear the sounds. There was no way to muffle the shrieks of agony as the fangs of the snake sliced through Tippy's skin, eating the elf alive in no more than a few minutes. Under the table, his mother brushed her hand with his, in a hidden and desperate sign of reassurance.
He didn't know how long the horrifying scene lasted, but it felt endless. He sat unmoving and rigid as a statue, as the other Death Eaters laughed around him like it was a gift to assist in the death of such a useless creature.
After a while, he forced himself to laugh as well, but it came out as a choked sound that barely mingled with the others. He gritted his teeth hoping they would stop chattering.
Draco Malfoy had never pitied a house elf before, not once in his life. But Tippy was one of the house elves who raised him from childhood, and he had been a familiar face throughout the years. Draco had never shown any affection towards him, as he was instructed to by his father, but this death shook him to the core.
Yes, this was definitely the shittiest Christmas so far.
Christmas at the Burrow was as heartwarming and festive as it could have possibly been.
The brisk air pinched Hermione's reddened nose as she and Harry approached their best friend's home.
The roof of the house was completely white, and the snow was sprinkled all over the garden, giving the winter atmosphere a touch of coziness that she thought she would never be able to live again.
Hermione wished she was able to stop time to grasp all of the happiness and joy that had pervaded her on this Christmas day.
To say that the meal was delicious would be an understatement. The first course consisted of a creamy pumpkin soup, which she devoured in the blink of an eye. Right after came the seasoned rabbit served with mashed potatoes, which Ron could not stop talking about. She looked at her friend enjoying the food and gave him a warm smile that made him blush like a tomato.
The dessert was her personal favourite: a Christmas cake glazed with chocolate and filled with delicious cream that felt like fireworks in her mouth. The exquisite treat delighted her so much that she scraped the little bits of chocolate and crumbles from the tray. Molly really was an incredible cook.
As they ate, laughter and chatter filled the room. Fred and George were arguing with Ginny about some of their latest creations for the shop.
"You can't sell that! It's disgusting!" Ginny yelled, her mouth curled in distaste.
"Why not, Gin? It's not like people wouldn't do it anyway. We are just giving them a little push. Besides, they might use it in so many different ways."
"It's a bloody spying lense, Fred, what do you think the boys are going to do with that? I think you know it perfectly well. You idiot!" She spat back.
"If you actually sell these, I'm going to hit you with the worst stinging hex of your life," Hermione interjected, a teasing smile spreading wide on her face.
"I wouldn't mind being hexed by you." Fred retorted, making her blush at the allusion. That boy was unbelievable.
"Don't you dare even think about it if you want to keep living under my roof!" Molly said.
After a little while, Ron and Harry jumped into the conversation as well, their voices mingling with the others as the sound of the sparkling fire slowly died away.
As she watched all the people she considered as family chat and argue with happiness in her eyes, Hermione made herself a promise. She would save them. She would save them all, no matter what the price to pay would be.
The rest of the night flew by as they spent it playing cards and magical chess, with just a pinch of Firewhisky warming their cheeks.
Towards midnight, when everyone had fallen asleep on the couch, Hermione sat by the fireplace of the living room, her hand clutching the silver chain around her neck.
Her Time Turner was now always with her and lay nestled under her clothes, hidden by her red jumper. Since the day she lost it, she decided to wear the object like a necklace, so that she could keep it on her at all times.
She thought that Malfoy was likely spending his Christmas locked in a room with Voldemort at the Manor. Dolohov's hinting words about his mother were drilling her thoughts, haunting her more than she'd ever thought they would.
An unpleasant feeling laced around her heart. Was she worried about him? There was no reason why she should be. Then why did she feel so affected by the thought of Malfoy being trapped away with the darkest wizard of history?
She was about to get up and go to bed when she felt a warm hand curling around her shoulder. The touch was warm and lingered more than necessary on her, turning into a caress that reached her arm, and she immediately knew who it was. She raised her gaze and found Ron staring at her with a tender look that she knew very well.
"'Mione, what are you doing here all alone by the fire? I thought you went to sleep upstairs." Ron's voice was low and cozy and comforting.
"I just couldn't sleep." She said, keeping her gaze glued to the dancing flames.
"I was hoping to find you here, actually."
He took her hand and she froze under the touch, uncertain what to do. After a while, he tried to interlace his fingers with hers, but she instinctively snatched her hand away. Ron looked at her like he'd just been stung.
"I'm sorry… I'm just a little tired these days. I think I will go to bed now." Hermione said, feeling her words flimsy and uncertain as he looked at her with his round blue eyes.
"Don't lie to me, I know something is wrong. You have been avoiding me for the past months and I don't know why. Have I done something wrong?" He asked.
"No, no. It's nothing like that. Really, Ron, I've just been really busy with my studies lately, and the Horcrux research has been draining."
"You are not like this with Harry. I see the coldness in your eyes when you look at me and I want to know what changed. I thought we were… on different terms."
"Ron, I don't think this is the right moment to talk about this…"
"It's never the right time for you Hermione!" Ron's voice had grown louder and frustrated.
"If not now when? I need to know where we stand because it's killing me to see you acting so distant with me."
"What do you want me to say? You are right, I've been avoiding you. I'm sorry." She blurted out, averting her gaze from him. She was scared that Ron could read the emotions on her face like an open book.
"But why? Is it because of me and Lavender?"
"Godric, no! I love you Ron… but this" she gestured to the space in between them "is not going to happen. We are just not cut out for each other."
"Why do you say that? You don't have a crystal ball. What if you are wrong?" She was turning around not to face him, but he grabbed her by the wrist.
She laughed at the irony of her situation. She might not have a crystal ball, but she had a powerful Time Turner hiding in her robes.
"I know I'm not wrong, and you do too. Think about it. We don't have that much in common, we work well as friends but you know that we are just so different… besides, we have far more important matters to worry about these days."
"I know that you aren't telling me the whole story. Is there someone else? Is it that prick of McLaggen?"
"No, for Godric's sake!" she was almost shouting now.
"Then what changed your mind so suddenly? There used to be something between us, I can't really explain it 'Mione, but it was there. I felt it, and I know you did too. I thought we would eventually realise it. But now you are suddenly acting so cold with me, and I don't understand it at all. What happened? Do you hate me now or something?"
The last sentence was spoken with a rasped, broken voice, almost like he was in physical pain. It broke her heart to see her friend suffering like this for her.
"I'm sorry. I don't know how to answer this question. I can't do this Ron. I have to go to bed now. Goodnight." The words rushed out of her mouth before she could stop them, jittery and frantic as she freed her wrist from Ron's hold and hurried up the stairs.
A minute later, locked in her cozy room, she crawled up on her bed and curled herself under the blankets with a heavy burden pressing against her heart. Hermione found herself wanting to cry but being unable to.
After the war, tears never came as easily to her as they used to. For the first few years, they would always flow in endless streams whenever one of her loved ones was captured tortured, or killed in battle. But after a while, when the deaths were too painful and too many to count, something shifted within her, and then the tears never came back. And now her heart felt like an empty shell surrounded by walls that she had no idea how to overcome.
She spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling with wide, red eyes and brims of wandless magic crackling all around her and her curly hair. The stress was too strong to contain and it had burst the warm Christmas bubble that had come enveloping her for just a few hours. A mesh of abstract shapes and colours came together on her crowded canvas, which was not able to soothe her nerves that night, no matter how much magic she put into it.
And now her mind was once again brimming with questions she had no answer to. How was she supposed to deal with Ron now and when should she reveal her biggest secret to him? Would this devastate him and change the course of time? Most of all, was she going to watch and do nothing as he got poisoned by the boy she had a reluctant alliance with?
That night she dreamt of a white hand clutched around her neck that squeezed tight until she felt like drowning. The last thing she saw was wide scarlet eyes glowering at her before she woke up screaming.
Her journey back to Hogwarts felt surreal like the day she first came back.
Ron did not speak to her for weeks. He did not even look at her unless it was absolutely necessary. Hermione knew him well enough to stay away as he processed their argument with deep hurt in his gaze and a strong sense of betrayal.
A pinch of fear stained her heart as she knew that this fight had never taken place in the previous timeline, and she hoped that it wouldn't turn the future events upside down. She could not afford to have unnecessary changes tainting the short-term future events. She needed to be in control and right now there were too many factors that she had not been able to foresee.
In the meantime, the Horcrux research carried on at a fast pace. Hermione spent most of her time in the library, as she guided Harry through a riddle that she had already the answer to. Ron mostly stayed away when both of them were researching, and only came by to stutter a few words in her best friend's direction before leaving as fast as he could.
A few months flew by and her Time Turner stared back at her without any change in appearance. This had been the longest the object had stayed cool and still since she'd erased her old timeline. It felt like no progress was being made and it frustrated her to the point that she could no longer focus on her research.
Malfoy looked much worse after the holidays. It might have not been apparent to the untrained eye, but Hermione had always been anything but common. And so, she immediately recognized the sparkle of fear in his grey eyes and the rigidness that swept through his features when he thought no one was looking.
When her gaze landed on him, a confusing unpleasant feeling pressed against her chest, like small painful thorns stinging her heart and clouding her mind with negative thoughts.
It distracted her strong rational side and she found herself unable to focus on the important matters because of it. Godric, how could she be so irrational? She felt weak because of it and despised it. She hated Malfoy just as much as the way he made her feel when he looked at her.
One day they ran into each other in the hallway. Her head, cramped with all the fresh information acquired in the library, was throbbing with a painful headache all day as she strode along the corridors with heavy footsteps. At her side, Harry was walking with a pile of books blocking his view, stumbling on the steps and carrying along with some difficulty.
They were about to when a lonely blond head came into their line of sight. The sharp-faced boy was dressed in black from head to toe, with the Prefect pin being the only item showing the forgotten Slytherin uniform. There was something eerie about the gloomy spark in his grey eyes that made his gaze appear duller than usual, with the only hint of liveliness hiding in the faint blush of his gaunt cheeks.
He quickly looked at her and adrenaline ran through her chest and rippled through her veins like the chord of an instrument.
She saw him immediately tense up as he realised who he'd just run into, and then their eyes locked for a few seconds before he averted his gaze. When his grey eyes settled on Harry the surprise and from his features was gone, replaced by a sneer that he had mastered over the school years.
"Just who I wanted to see to end my day, Saint Potter and the mudblood." He said as he rolled his eyes and came to a halt in front of them.
Just behind him, two other figures emerged from the corner and approached them. Her nose crinkled in disgust as soon as she recognized the ugly faces of Crabbe and Goyle, glowering at them like raptors.
"Look at the mudblood. What got you so angry?"
"Don't you dare call her like that, brainless pricks!"
"And what are you going to do if I do?" said Crabbe with a wide grin on his face.
"You don't want to know the answer." Harry said as the grip on his wand grew firmer and his stance restless.
"Are you going to go running to your dear Headmaster?"
Hermione's features hardened into a scowl, but then the hint of a complacent smile took shape on her lips as soon as the comment came out of his mouth.
You'll be dead in a little more than a year.
She kept her stare firm and intimidating on him, as her grin grew wider and Crabbe's overconfidence grew weaker. Eventually, Crabbe could no longer hold eye contact and instinctively looked down, and an overwhelming feeling of powerfulness and satisfaction came over her.
On their side, Malfoy kept silent, looking at them with his pale hands tucked away in his pockets. He was leaning on the wall with apparent disinterest in the situation.
Hermione did not dare glance in his direction, but she could almost sense the intensity of his gaze as she faced his pathetic friends with her head high. Hermione knew she looked intimidating at that moment and she hoped he would be smart enough not to speak up.
Harry's wand was now pointing towards the pair of ugly Slytherins, who on their hand were looking at the blond figure to their side, waiting for him to break the silence.
But the insults never came. The young wizard seemed to be lost in his thoughts, his grey eyes roaming around the room without purpose.
At last, he finally stood from the wall and took a couple of steps forward, drawing closer until he was facing them directly and Hermione could see the icy hues of his hair. He glanced at her once again and he looked almost sad for a moment and then his eyes narrowed into slits before she could process the rapid change of features on his face.
"Crabbe, Goyle, let's go. Don't want to waste any more of my time on filth."
She and Malfoy exchanged a sharp look that lasted longer than it should have, and a few seconds later his footsteps were reverberating through the hall, slicing through the silence that had settled between them.
On her side, Harry gazed at her with creased brows. She knew the trail of thoughts that his mind was taking, connecting potential dots that she might have omitted. The silence grew thicker to the point it was uncomfortable and she felt the urge to speak up, but Harry anticipated her.
"How strange of Malfoy to act so unbothered."
"He is probably just too into his mission. By now, he must have almost finished repairing that stupid Cabinet" she responded, her voice tinged with frustration.
"And that's all?"
"As far as I know. I am handling it." She hoped he would not hear the uncertainty in her tone.
She could feel the tension in Harry's pause, but he just kept walking alongside her in silence.
She'd told Harry about him. Not all the details, of course, but he knew that Malfoy was involved with the future events that would lead to the war and the fall of the Order. She'd told him that she was aware of his plans and how they would unfold in the next months.
When she had started talking, Harry had almost spilled his hot chocolate all over his clothes. Hermione had seen the rage and disbelief on his friend's face, mixed with the awareness that he had been, in fact, very much right all along about Malfoy.
She had not told him about the vow. Maybe she was going to regret this, but she felt that there would be no coming back from telling him about her alliance with Malfoy.
Her secrets were looming over, growing bigger and bigger and haunting her like ghosts from her miserable past. She kept telling herself that the right time would come for her to finally let go of them, but the truth was she was never going to be fully free of that weight until the end of the war. She had started this journey by herself and she would be going through it alone for the most part, burdened with knowledge that was far too striking to share.
Days and weeks kept flying by but her constant sense of guilt was not hindered by the passing time.
March had just made the flowers blossom when Ron was poisoned and carried to the Hospital Wing.
Hermione sat by the window in silence, her brown eyes lost in the green vastness of the hills surrounding the castle as the shades of blue in the sky turned pink with the fading light of the day.
Outside, the dull winter colours were being replaced by a bloom of sprouts and buds that seemed to bring cheer and peace to the students, in juxtaposition with the inner turmoil she was experiencing.
She looked at her Time Turner to see if it warmed up. It didn't. Was she ever going to make progress and change the course of time?
With a deep sigh of frustration, she raked her fingers through her curly hair to soothe her rising nerves and finally stood, making her way through the halls in search of the Hospital Wing.
She was about to reach the entrance door but then someone got in the way and blocked her view. Harry was standing in front of her with a tight expression as he grasped his wand compulsively. He looked stone-faced and it took her a minute to realize that he was pointing it towards her. She raised her eyes and saw that there was a hint of redness around the corners of his green eyes.
His tears burned with incredulity and betrayal.
"You knew it was going to end up like this. And you did nothing to change things. What is wrong with you?" he shouted.
"Ron is going to be fine." Was her simple answer.
"You knew it! You knew your best friend was going to end up poisoned in the Hospital Wing. And he loves you, Hermione! How could you let it happen?"
"If I stopped this, the poison might have reached Dumbledore, or something worse might have happened anyway. Playing with time is never easy, there is always a price to pay. And this was not a risk I could afford to take." She knew she sounded harsh, but it was the logical course of action and she could not deny it.
The look he gave her sent shivers creeping up her spine. It was like he had never seen her before.
"I don't recognise you anymore. What happened to you?"
"War happened. Deaths of everyone I know fucking happened! Do you realise what is at stake right now? The well-being of the whole wizarding world! And I will do whatever it takes to preserve it, even if it means that you will both hate me. All I care about is avoiding going back to the hellhole where I came from."
By the time she finished the sentence, her breaths were heavy and frantic, and Harry had been successfully silenced.
For countless moments, he just stood there as the tears spread wider on his cheeks. Then he shook his head with as much force as he seemed to be able to muster and turned on his heels, disappearing from her sight.
She could not allow herself to cry. She had succeeded tonight. Malfoy was on her side and Dumbledore was safe and under her protection. She was a step closer to pulling this off.
Then why did it feel so wrong?
She felt as lonely as she used to be during the war and in the aftermath.
She almost did not recognize the salty taste of tears when they reached her mouth. It had been so long that she no longer remembered what crying felt like. She slid onto the floor and stared into nothingness as the heaviness in her chest bloomed into prolonged sobbing.
Hermione was not sure how long she wept on that floor, but it was long enough for her vision to blur and her mind to drift into a hazy fog of exhaustion.
She cried until she was so tired, and the tears would not come any longer. After that, she stood to leave but instead, she just cocked her head to the side, getting lost in a maze of thoughts she had built for herself.
Another voice broke her quiet pondering. A voice she had grown accustomed to in the past few months.
"I had been wondering why you told me to carry on with my plans tonight."
She turned around and a familiar fresh scent of spices pervaded her nostrils. Malfoy was standing too close to her, his silver eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something else she couldn't quite decipher.
His left arm laced around her wrist with firmness and the warm feeling she loathed came back rushing in her veins and twirling in her stomach. Hermione was frozen in place, unable to pull away or say anything at that moment.
"I figured it was because the poison would not get to the old fool, but I never thought it was going to hurt Weasley." He paused a moment as a grin spread wide on his face. "You have grown more ruthless than I thought." He sounded so pleased and it made her want to strangle him.
"What are you so fucking happy about?" She rushed out.
"As I said, I like to see you suffer. But I also think that war has fucked with your head way more than I had imagined. And I think I like it better than I should."
She huffed and they were so close that the air reached his face. And then his lips were about to land on hers once again and this time she knew she was going to lean in.
She wasn't sure if of it, but she could swear that the burning fire growing warmer and warmer all around her did not come solely from her Time Turner.
Sorry it took me so long. I was lacking inspiration. As always, your reviews make my day! :)
See you soon!
Ari