Tenth
Adrenaline was racing through her body and flowing in her veins, engulfing her in a blurry vortex of disarray and panic.
Drops of sweat were trickling down her forehead as she ran and ran through the halls, uncaring of the staring glances of passing students in the corridors. She had to make it there on time.
Her heart was hammering louder than a roaring engine. There could be no scenario worse than this one. If Malfoy had his claws clasped around the Time Turner somehow, disastrous consequences could shatter her hopes and everything she had been working for. Hermione had just to hope to get there before he discovered what that flimsy glistening object was.
Flashes of stairs and rooms and halls flew by the corner of her eye, as fast as her own beating heart. Moments later she was descending into darkness, bolting through the narrow passage under the intimidating glare of monsters and shadowy creatures that were whirling around the hidden depths of the Black Lake.
She had never ventured this far, meandering her way through the dim pathway that led to the Slytherin chambers. But Hermione didn't care. The risk of losing her Time Turner to the wrong, Death Eater hands was far greater than trivial matters embedded in silly school rivalry.
Shrouded in green velvet curtains stood a heavy wooden door, embellished with silver ornaments. The Slytherin crest lay firm and solemn at its center. Not a flicker of light seeped through the stained glasses, and icy chills struck Hermione's disillusioned figure, gliding down her spine and permeating her to the marrow of her bones.
Now that panic had started to simmer down, rage had pushed her way through until it took over. Although she could not see it, Hermione felt her long curls slowly rise and float in the air, as if they had life on their own, ignited by electric waves of magic. It would happen often in the other timeline when frustration and anger bottled up so much within her that they threatened to overwhelm her senses. At that point, her magic would restore her internal balance at a very fair price.
Having a bad hair day was much better than committing murder, after all.
It didn't take much waiting before a group of Slytherin students came out of the door, rushing through the halls as their cloaks billowed and fluttered behind them, their laughter ebbing in the distance.
She slit through the door, stealthy and silent as a wisp of smoke.
Sparks of curiosity glimmered in her wandering eyes, thirsty for fresh knowledge and stimulating challenges. She took a few minutes to absorb her surroundings, her disillusioned figure lingering on the doorframe as Slytherin students milled around the area.
Lulling her and soothing her nerves was the fading whispering of a piano drifting through the air in a mesmerising melody. In front of her stood only sharp angles and crisp colours, her eyes meeting the green and silver all around the ambiance, gleaming under the flickering glow of the candlelights. Leather and velvet were playing in the shadows, hiding in book covers and refined furniture.
Outside the windows, the alluring depths of the lake were sprawling far in the distance, the faint sound of running waters filling the space in low murmurs and caressing her ears like a lullaby. Comforted by the darkness permeating those icy waters, sirens were floating and twirling and dancing behind the glass, their grey scales shimmering and capturing the dim light of candles.
In the farther corner of the room, a silver ghost in the form of a woman sat in front of the piano, her fingers stroking the digits with grace and gentleness, like a twirling ballerina dancing and swinging around in soft footfalls.
She had always imagined the Slytherin Common Room to radiate an aura of coldness and deception like most of the students belonging to that House. She had been convinced that place would have repelled her to the core if she had ever stepped into it. Turns out she had been wrong.
If the Gryffindor common room was warm, cozy, and welcoming, the Slytherin one was sophisticated, striking, and alluring.
She wondered if Malfoy was waiting for her lurking in the shadows, gloating on her failures and ready to strike. She hoped he wasn't clever enough to understand the immense power of the unique Time Turner resting in his hands.
She was surprised to find him sitting on the couch in the very center of the room, his head bent on the side, his brows furrowed and his left hand clutching his chin in deep thought. His gaze appeared lost, fixated on one remote corner of the wall she could not quite place. His blond head stood out from the Slytherin crowd, strands of hair falling on his forehead and gently emphasizing his sharp features. She remembered the smoothness of his hair when she had buried her hands in it, recollecting the pleasant shivers that the touch had caused, and flushed at the thought.
Godric, she had been a fool to surrender under his lips. She still had not processed fully what had happened, nor had she had the time to dwell upon it. It had been a moment of utter insanity and weakness on her part. And look where it had brought her. Her harsh gaze lingered on his striking profile for a little more than necessary, before it travelled down the neat robes in search of the most important treasure she had ever possessed.
She scanned his figure for the Time Turner, but it appeared not to be in sight. Lying on his right side, however, were his cloak and a dark leather bag. Rage boiled in Hermione's veins at the thought of her precious Time Turner being this exposed at such a risk.
The urge to coil her fingers around his pale neck and squeeze until he stopped breathing grew stronger within her, tempting Hermione more than reading forbidden books that hid deliciously powerful spells. But her rational side prevented her from doing so: she knew that Malfoy was to be kept alive, as Dumbledore had hinted. Besides, she did not want to stain her hands with blood more than she already had if not necessary.
Getting rid of everyone in the room was fairly easy. Seven years in hiding throughout the war had made her an expert in trickery and deceit, after all. It only took a simple deception charm, planting a lulling voice whispering to students that it was dinner time and nudging them towards the Great Hall. Playing with people's heads was easier than most believed, although it worked well exclusively with untrained minds and simple tasks. Hermione wished she could use this charm on powerful wizards: it would have saved her a lot of trouble.
A few minutes later, the Slytherin chambers were deserted and fell completely silent, with only one set of gray eyes slicing through the darkness. The sweet melody of the piano ceased with a last dull note as the ghost of the young woman playing rose from the instrument, her silver gaze landing on Hermione's hidden figure, shooting her a meaningful look as she slowly drifted away and vanished behind the wall.
She lifted the disillusionment charm, dropping the veil of invisibility that shielded her from the world, and then it was only the two of them staring at each other across the room.
To her surprise, Malfoy did not flinch at her sudden appearance. Only a flash of emotion resembling fear glittered in his features, but he did not move from where he was sitting. With a few long strides, she sealed the distance between them and slid on the other couch right in front of him. The pale boy did not blink and kept staring at her with assessing, piercing eyes.
From this close, Hermione could see how exhausted Malfoy looked. Hints of it were scattered all across his face, from the unusual hollowness of his cheekbones, to the dull glimmer in his gray eyes and the anxious quivering of his lower lip.
There was also a hint of sadness and eerie calm in his glare that had never belonged to him, and for a moment Hermione felt a tingling sensation rushing through her stomach and warming her cheeks. He was a Death Eater and a terrible human being, she reminded herself. But right now, all she could see was a young, fragile boy who was carrying a terrible burden on his shoulders, whose family's life depended on his success, and who was forced onto his mission.
She recognised despair and dread masked by a façade of wealth, arrogance, and power. She had never pitied him before, but at this moment, she realised, she really did.
Malfoy's low voice finally cut through the heavy silence that had descended upon them, resonating through the quiet room as if he were shouting.
"I had been waiting for your annoying face to show up. Took you way more than I expected you to, though. I thought you were brighter than this."
"Shut up. You have something of mine you ought to give back."
"And what would that be, Granger?"
"You know what I am talking about."
Her eyes narrowed into slits as her hands curled around her wand and pointed at him as a warning.
Malfoy was staring at her with such intensity that shivers were starting to play with her skin, tickling her soul like a feather brushing against her spine.
He paused for a long minute, sucking in a deep breath before the next question left his mouth.
"…Are you here to kill me, Granger?"
She did not need any more words to know that he knew. It was all over the charged tone of his voice, heavy with tension and something else close to despair. What was he going to do?
"Not if you don't get in my way."
"You perfectly know that I will. That's what brought you here, right? That's why you are suddenly so different. It was always you spying on me." He growled.
As he spoke, he extracted the Time Turner from the internal pocket of his robe and raised his hand to show her the object, its natural glow warming up the room and shining bright in the dim light of that evening.
Hermione froze, her eyes wide and dread splattered all across her face. It only lasted a few seconds, before she regained her composure, and rage swept through her features. She kept silent.
He noticed her reaction and then continued to speak, the tone of his voice rising higher as his confidence grew.
"If you are here, it could only mean two things. Either that suicidal idiot of Potter got himself in trouble and you are here to fix a smaller inconvenience, or you mean to prevent a much more important event from happening, one that we both know would be devastating for your Golden Trio, not to mention for your kind. And I think I know which one it is. And it means that, somehow, I have succeeded."
Surprisingly, there was no hint of joy or triumph blooming in his voice. He sounded resigned and bitter, almost defeated. His glare did not move from the Time Turner, tracing small circles around the sandglass. The sand kept flowing upwards in an ancient rhythm.
Although she had attempted not to show it, Hermione could not hide her surprise at Malfoy's sharp understanding of the situation.
"Don't be an idiot, Malfoy. You know well from our classes that using a Time Turner means that there would be two versions of me, one belonging to the previous timeline and one being my present self. And where would my past self be if not here at Hogwarts?
"Do you think you can fool me like your pathetic friends? This is no regular Time Turner, anyone having at least more than a couple of brain cells could see that. How did you get it?"
"How do you know this is not a regular one? They don't sell Time Turners easily these days, not even to rich prats like you."
"You underestimate the influence my family has over the Ministry, Granger. I have plenty of artifacts like these at Malfoy Manor. And I have seen enough of them to know that this is not something you find every day."
"If you don't give it back immediately, I swear I will ruin you. You have no idea what I am capable of." The words came out as a hiss, low and throaty and threatening.
"I want to know one thing before. How much time?"
"How much time, what?"
"How much time have you reversed back to be here, in this timeline?"
She considered lying to him and denying her time travel journey, but she knew it was pointless now. She could only attempt to limit the damage and hopefully point him in the wrong direction.
"There are no other timelines, just this one. It was a spell."
They often said half-truths were the best lies of all.
"You didn't answer my question. How much time ahead were you from now?"
"Why should I tell you? You are literally the last person I would spill my secrets to."
"I don't need you to tell me anything, actually, it's pretty obvious. From the way you are using wandless magic without any effort and casting spells well beyond class level, I would say it has been years to the very least. And your stance is anything but ordinary for someone our age, I would bet it is one of a soldier. I can see it in your eyes."
He had raised his glance and he was now locking eyes with her. There was a renewed firmness in them that made Hermione's heart leap and her body shiver as if a hundred electric waves were rushing through it.
"It seems like you have spent quite a lot of time observing me. You are quite the little fan, aren't you?"
That was not an explicit confirmation, but it did not deny his statement. Answering questions with other questions was a weapon she knew well how to use.
"It is only natural when you were doing the same, if not much worse. And you still haven't answered any of my questions."
"Again, why should I answer you? I know who you have become, Malfoy, there is no need to hide your Dark Mark under those expensive robes."
He went still at that for more than a few seconds, as if caught by surprise.
"Well then, it seems you must have forgotten that earlier when you let a Death Eater snog you in the middle of the library. Did you leave your pure golden morals in that shitty future of yours?"
"My pure golden morals left me bit by bit as I slashed people to death with my wand. But I assure you my sense of justice is still strong in me. And you should know that I would do anything to achieve my goals, even if it means killing a few more wizards. I don't mind."
There it was. The flash of fear that crossed his features once again. But there was also something more. A faint glimmer of a tender emotion resembling sadness. If it had not been Malfoy standing in front of him, Hermione would have thought that he felt pity for her.
"What is it that you want?"
"I am here to give you a choice. One you can hardly refuse because of the situation you are currently in. First of all, you are going to return the Time Turner immediately, if you don't want to be squashed like an insect. Secondly, when I told you that I would be able to help you that night at Borgin and Burkes, I was serious. I have much more knowledge and power than most of your beloved Death Eaters, and if you trust me enough, I can get you out of it. But you are going to have to listen to me."
"And why exactly should I do that? In case you haven't noticed, we are on opposite sides."
"So, what? Do you really think Voldemort is not going to dispose of the Malfoys as soon as it is convenient for him? Are you really that dumb to throw our Headmaster to the wolves for some false sense of power and short-lasting glory? You can't even imagine what a world reigned by that madman looks like, but I assure you it's not shining as bright as you think it would be."
"What I know is that the Malfoys will no longer exist if I am foolish enough to abandon this mission. Besides," He rolled up his left sleeve as he kept talking, "you are well aware of my loyalty to the Dark Lord. Why would I listen to someone like you?"
She knew what he meant by the word someone too well. But she could hear the hesitation in his voice. He was conflicted and she knew it as soon as the words left his mouth. She had to push a little more.
"Oh yes, I am sure." She rolled her eyes and continued speaking. "You are so loyal to your Dark Lord that you stunned and obliviated one of his best Death Eaters to save your mudblood classmate? I highly doubt it. I know you are not enjoying your mission, it was evident then and it is now. You are not cut out for killing, Malfoy, as much as you wish you were. You are not like your father."
The confusion in his gaze seemed to be stabbing through him like a sharp kitchen knife. His hands, still clutching the Time Turner with nervous compulsiveness, had started trembling.
"You still have not given me enough of a reason to even consider your offer."
"Other than my threats to kill you, you mean?"
"You are not that ruthless. I don't believe it."
She decided to ignore his comment. Instead, she opted to tell him what he wanted to hear.
"I would make sure to arrange something for you and your family. I know Dumbledore would give me the tools to do it, I would be able to get you somewhere safe."
"Your pathetic promises will not convince me to do something so big. It is far too risky, Granger. You know how involved we are in this mess, my father would never abandon the ranks of the Dark Lord, and my mother has been trapped in the Manor with those depraved bastards for months. How are you supposed to fix this? How are you to tell me with a straight face that you won't have them thrown in Azkaban for the rest of their lives?"
"You know that I am a time traveler now, you have proof of it. And I have seen the horrors we will both go through in the next few years. I have both the experience and the right connections to do it, I guarantee it. Also, Malfoy, if you don't, I will obliviate you in a heartbeat and you would not remember anything of this conversation and your mission anyways… it's your choice."
"Do Potter and Weasley know about any of this?"
"Harry does, in part. I haven't told me anything about you, but he's suspicious. If you decide to trust me, I can guarantee that he will not give you too much trouble. About Ron… he doesn't even know about me, and I don't even think he has noticed it besides my…shifted behavior towards him." God, why was she telling this to him?
A flash of a bitter emotion stained his expression as if something had stung him. He seemed to be annoyed at her for bringing out trifle details he could care less about.
"What are you planning to do?"
"When I first…got here, I was planning to either injure you or kill you so that you would not be able to accomplish your task. But then I realised that it might alter this timeline too much and in ways I cannot predict. So, I came to the conclusion that it could be more useful to have you on our side. In these months I have been observing you, I saw a glimpse of conflict and reluctance in you that made me believe you could be saved, that you could be more than a spineless Death Eater. Now it's up to you."
She was not going to tell him about her talk with Dumbledore and the way he had subtly hinted that he was somehow relevant and had to be kept alive.
"You keep saying that I am not a killer, Granger, but if you travelled back to this point in time and are talking to me right now it is because I must have caused the old man's death."
"You did, in a way. But it did not play out as you think it would, and the Dark Lord will make you pay a high price for it. And when I talk about a high price, I mean that it will not end well for you and your parents in the future I know. If you listen to me, we might be able to find a smarter solution. I am clever, and you have the insights of a Death Eater. It's a risk, but a far better one for your family than your current option."
Guilt lingered in her heart as the convenient half-lie came out of her lips with such ease it almost frightened her. The truth was she could never be certain of her success in providing his family with a better outcome in the upcoming war. She was not sure of the repercussions that the Malfoys had had after Draco's failure. She knew that they were going to live in horror and misery in the years following Harry's defeat, just like everyone else. She hoped it was enough to convince him, for the sake of everyone she loved, and everything that would be shattered by the horrors of the war.
He hesitated for quite a few minutes, apparently swallowed by a wave of thoughts that had darkened the silver in his eyes. The dim light played with the pale shades of his hair and skin, and the faint pink illuminating his cheekbones and lips stood out from the dull colours of the room. He looked so beautiful under the candlelight, she instinctively thought before she could recoil at her own wandering mind.
"If I said yes, how would you assure me that you won't betray me? I need proof that I will trust you. I want to make clear that if I do this, it is only because it could be the most convenient move for the Malfoys.
"We can make an unbreakable vow. I will swear to do whatever in my power to get you and your family out of this, without compromising your current position in the eyes of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. In exchange, you will keep on pretending to carry out your task, but you will listen to what I say."
"Who is going to seal the vow?"
"The only person who knows about you, Malfoy. It's going to be Dumbledore."
He looked at her with disbelief swarming his glare and round eyes that were so uncharacteristic of him. It lasted a fraction of a second before they rapidly shifted back to the narrow slits she was used to.
"Are you fucking crazy? Are you really suggesting that the very wizard I am trying to kill should be the one who seals the deal?"
"Oh, don't be so naïve. Dumbledore has known for a long time. Did you think he was not going to notice the feeble murder attempts of a seventeen-year-old? Get a grip on reality."
He said nothing. Hermione felt uncomfortable under his silent, heavy stare for what seemed to be an endless moment.
In silent agreement, he extended his arm and handed over the glistening Time Turner to Hermione, a meaningful look crossing his features. A gaze that he had never reserved to her before and that spoke of something close to respect. Her heart somersaulted in her chest and a rush of adrenaline hit her as she realized with joy what that implicit gesture meant.
His long fingers brushed against hers, and a cascade of thundering emotions she was not ready to deal with crashed over her. He must have felt it too, because he immediately retreated his hand, as if burnt by an invisible fire that had been ignited by their brief connection. They stared at each other awkwardly for a few seconds before Hermione broke whatever it was that had descended upon them.
"Ok, well…good." She cleared her throat "I will arrange everything with Dumbledore, and I will see you tonight right after curfew in the Library. Restricted Section, of course. Snape must not know about this, obviously. I believe he would not exactly agree to our deal."
A thousand stars glowed in the sky that night, shining bright as the scattered light clouds hung above the Scottish green hills that surrounded Hogwarts Castle. On top of them, matching the white shimmer of the half moon, lay a sprinkle of snow that had come decorating the landscape as a powerful sign of the starting winter.
Draco caught a glimpse of the clear view through the stained windows as he kneeled on the wooden pavement of the Restricted Section. For a moment, he wished he could be just like the dotted clouds all around the stars, floating above the air and light as a feather, carefree and cheerful and happy. Instead, his world was clouded by despair, guilt, and darkness. Fear for himself and his family grew in his chest like weeds in cultivable fields, ruining the land and causing flowers and plants to shrivel. In front of him, Granger was sitting with her hands clutching the carpet on the side, a veil of melancholy glazing her face as her glare wandered around the room apparently without a purpose.
In between them, Dumbledore stood as calm as the wind on hot summer afternoons, a placid smile spreading on his face and a hand stroking his long white beard. Draco loathed how much he seemed to be enjoying this. What a fool he was.
"My dear boy, I knew you were going to make the right choice," Dumbledore said in a content, relaxed tone.
"Don't think I did it because I care about any of you. It's only for my family." He spat back, less bitterly than he had intended to sound.
A moment later, Granger extended her arm to him, and he took it with reluctance. Her hands were smooth and cold under his touch. He realised that he had gotten almost used to touching her, more than he ever had in the past seven years. Another thing to loathe himself for: enjoying the company of mudbloods was not exactly something his father would be proud of.
A distinctive glow shone bright and red as burning fire in Granger's pocket, and her eyes widened as she extracted the Time Turner from her robes and brushed his fingers against one of the blue pearls around the sandglass. What was the meaning of that?
Before he could question his decision any further, Granger had started reciting the Vow.
"Will you, Draco Malfoy, swear to do whatever you can to help me, Hermione Granger, prevent your deed from being carried out as intended by Voldemort, and provide insights on the plans of the Death Eaters throughout this Seventh Year?
"I will." As the words flew out of his mouth, a rush of panic and regret washed over him at the thought of what he just did. He had made a choice and it was irreversible. Was it the right one?
"Will you, Hermione Granger, do whatever in your power to guarantee the Malfoy's family safety and position of influence in the wizarding society, and avoid their legal punishment if such issues were to arise?"
"I will."
They raised their gaze and looked into each other's eyes as a jolt of electric magic shot from the top of their wand and enveloped their joint hands, Dumbledore's grin spreading wider in front of the ancient magic he knew so well.
And so, the Vow was sealed.
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Ari