Chapter 47

Hermione stayed in her owl form for the next few days, following Voldemort around. She wanted to learn his schedule, but he didn't seem to have one. She watched him as much as she could, trying to find times when he was would be the easiest to overpower or take by surprise. He had a new serpent that he often allowed to hang on his shoulders. It was a light grey color, with green flecks here and there. Its eyes were yellow, and it often stared at Hermione if she was close. A black and grey owl sometimes got close to her too, and she thought it might be Blaise Zabini's owl.

Hermione wanted to go to the library, to figure out what type of serpent Voldemort had adopted for a pet, but she couldn't risk it.

The school was bleak after Draco's escape. Hermione couldn't quite figure out what had happened after her distraction, but it had worked, whatever Draco did. She hoped he was ok, and somewhere safe. She thought about how he looked on his knees covered in blood in front of Voldemort and wished she could hug him, wished she could hold his hand and share a meal with him again. Where did that come from?

Thoughts of Draco seemed to plague her. She remembered how it had felt, being ensconced in his arms as she woke up, warm and at peace. She thought about how coldly handsome his face was, all planes and angles, with grey ice chips for eyes. She had loved the open warmth in Ron's face, and had admired the robust strength in Viktor Krums face, but she found herself drawn to the mystery of Draco's face. He favored his mother when he smiled, rare as they were. When he wore a more severe expression, Lucius showed in his face, but did not overtake it. When he was at peace, eyes closed and sleeping, he was angelic, but when his ire came forth, he was devastatingly handsome, a call back to the Roman marble statues featuring Lucifer.

It was silly, really, that she would have any curiosity towards Draco at all. She tried to summon images of him when he had been part of the inquisitorial squad, following Umbridge around and lording his authority, but they fizzled out. She couldn't hold the offenses of a child against the restoration of a man. And they had been children compared to now. The war had come for them both, indiscriminate of the contents of their hearts. It felt like an age had passed since Harry returned from the Triwizard Tournament holding Cedric Diggory's body, the event that marked the beginning of the war for her.

Hermione recognized that Draco would never have any attraction to her. Though he seemed to be coming around to his senses and trying to make amends for the evils he had committed, he was still Draco Malfoy- old money affluent, from a longstanding wizarding family, pure-blood, opportunistically ambitious, Slytherin. She did not have anything he would be interested in. She had no legacy in her family lineage, no connections, no power. She had bushy hair and talked too much. And all that besides, her heart was with Ron Weasley. She needed to banish this crush she was beginning to foster and focus on her quest.

Voldemort was erratic. He would stand in the Astronomy tower for hours, not moving or speaking. He would walk the halls with an entourage of Death Eaters, all silent. He would wake the castle up in the middle of the night for meetings, or a command to resume the search for Draco and her, and then command them all back, accusing them of running from him. He would visit the dungeon under the lake alone, and she couldn't follow him there. He would sit in the headmaster's office and stare at Dumbledore's portrait, and Dumbledore would stare back, smiling. He would sit in the Slytherin common room and talk to the Bloody Baron in hushed tones. He tried repeatedly to get into the Chamber of Secrets but was unable, although Hermione couldn't figure out why. She and Ron had been able to, and it looked like they must have been the last ones.

Hermione was getting impatient. She wanted that wand. She had seen it, he had it on him, but he rarely used it, preferring his original wand. She also wasn't sure if just stealing it would work, or if she needed to win it off him.

But if I am clever enough to steal it, would that count as a win? She sure hoped it would. She knew she lacked the prowess to duel with him.

The days turned into a week. Voldemort did not appear to ever sleep, and Hermione was losing faith in herself. Until, on the afternoon of the 7th day after Draco's escape, an opportunity presented itself.

"Zabini," Voldemort said, although Hermione could barely hear him from the windowsill she was posted on. "I am due for some Reficite Renovare."

"Yes, I believe you are my lord, but at this location?" Zabini had answered back, looking unsure.

"I will not leave these grounds until the Blood Traitor and the Mudblood are caught. It must be here."

Hermione couldn't believe her luck. Reficite Renovare was quite hard to make,and if she remembered correctly, Voldemort would be in a deep sleep for at least an hour while the potion worked to regenerate him and restore him. It was usually administered to someone close to death. It was forbidden to make, as it required blood from a pregnant witch. Hermione wondered if they had that on hand in the castle, or if Zabini would be sent to retrieve some.

"I have all the ingredients available. I need to let it brew for a full evening on the shore of the lake, which I will do tonight, and can administer it tomorrow."

"Very good," Voldemort replied, slinking away.

Curiosity is what got to Hermione. She had never seen it brewed and would most likely never get the chance again. She followed Zabini to his office.

She was able to just slip in the door behind him before he closed it.

"Hermione," Blaise said, looking directly up at her perched on one of his rafters.

Fear speared her like an ice shard, and she took off towards one of his windows, but with a flick of his wand they all closed.

"I must say, I am quite impressed. An Animagus is a truly incredible feat, and an owl at that. Don't change back, I won't keep you long." He looked amused as he stared at her, his words turning her insides to frost. "I helped Draco. He's at my cottage in Hogsmeade now. I feel I can correctly guess you're here for the wand? Once you have it, head to this address. You may have more friends than you realize there." Blaise smirked at her and lifted his eyebrow. "I can almost taste your mistrust. What would I gain from helping you? What if it's a trap?" Blaise chuckled as he scratched an address down on a piece of parchment. He held it up for her.

"Memorize this quickly, I am going to throw it into the fire. Fly there tomorrow and say 'The front step is broken' once you get there. Do not transfigure back until you are physically on the front stoop. Do not be seen. Go and rest now, eat and have your strength up for tomorrow. He will only be down for 40 minutes. I will administer the potion to him in the headmaster's office." With a flick of his wand, Zabini opened his windows and motioned for Hermione to leave.

Once she was in the wind, she tried to untangle her thoughts. Blaise had known it was her, possibly the whole time she was at the castle. He had not revealed her to Voldemort. Could he be trusted? Had he switched sides as Narcissa and Draco had? If she trusted him, she would see Draco again. She could at least make sure he was ok. Then she would distance herself from him and this peculiar interest she had for him.