Questioning and Ignorance
Summary: sometimes answers lead to more questions and sometimes ignorance does not lead to bliss
Hermione Granger was not a person who gave up. She was certainly not a person who gave up on something as interesting and important as a reappearing string tied to her person. So she searched the library. Books on magical objects, tombs on curses, volumes on enchantments. She spent hours combing the stacks searching for any mention of a red string.
It wasn't until her fourth year that she stumbled upon a lead. Her research on the string had taken a backseat to being the third member of an increasingly time consuming trio. Keeping the other two members of that trio alive and passing their classes was more work than one would expect. It did not help that she was doing her research alone and only had herself to problem solve with. But she was used to being the one who fixed things. She was also used to feeling alone.
She had not been very confident that the section of the library she was in would be of any help. However it was as far from Viktor Krum's groupies as she could get so she was making the best of the situation.
She read the title in her hands again, tracing her finger over the gold embossed words. Futures and Fates. The book was on magical bonds and was old, tattered, and felt oddly sentient. She had gained enough experience with cursed letters following the Yule Ball to know it was not malicious but the book felt like it was calling her. It felt like it wanted her to read it. She shook her head to clear it. After Ginny's experience with Riddle's diary she knew to be wary of enticing items.
She came upon the relevant chapter after an hour of diligent reading. She was tucked away in the corner of the library at a table she had claimed as her own. A strong Notice-Me-Not charm kept away any other students who might wonder near her. It had been four years and she had yet to share the mystery that was her red string. She knew why she kept it from Harry and Ron. They would call her barmy and write the whole thing off as a bad joke. Or they would go absolutely mental and claim she had been cursed. They would probably blame a Slytherin and vow to get to the bottom of it then go charging off with no plan whatsoever.
She could not quite explain why she had not told a professor. Looking down at the book she knew Professor Trelawney was not a viable option but Headmaster Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall would most likely listen to her and take her seriously. But this felt too personal. It felt like something she needed to solve herself.
The chapter was titled the The Red String of Fate. It was extremely short and lacking in information. The author described a few occurrences where a red string tied to an individual would become visible to that person alone. Sometimes it was seen during significant, life-altering events. Other times during seemingly random, unimportant occasions. There was also no discernible pattern to the length of time the string was visible. The string was most often tied to the individuals wrist or ankle. The entry ended in making it very clear that the string was always there, visible or not, a constant connection. The whole chapter was a mere two pages long but it did reference another book Unbreakable Bonds written by Phoebe Black in 1845.
Hermione wanted to scoff at the title alone. Divination was a farce. She had dropped the class as soon as she could and thoroughly dismissed anything having to do with fates and destinies. Professor Trelawney and her tea leaves had soured her to all things pertaining to the subject.
But when she closed her eyes and ran her fingers over the ever present, currently invisible thread, she thought to herself about the times she had seen it.
She remembered sitting by the black lake reading with a book in her hand. It had startled her when she turned a page. All afternoon she had felt as if someone else was there. It had not made her feel uneasy but as if they were sitting together in companionable silence. However whenever she checked she was alone. An hour later when she had gone to put her book in her bag the string was gone.
The time last year when she had punched Draco Malfoy for yet another derogatory comment after their Care of Magical Creatures class. She had turned around to see the floor covered in thread, trailing from her wrist into piles that of course no one else could see. As Ron and Harry pulled her away she gripped the line trailing from her wrist in anger while Crabbe and Doyle had hauled Malfoy away, hands covering his face as his nose bled from her punch.
When during the Yule Ball, she had spun out dancing with Viktor to spin back and find her wrist slightly tugged away, a red trail falling to the floor, snaking it's way though the dancers. It followed her around the dance floor, lingering until she went outside to get a breath of fresh air.
It never appeared long enough to follow and always left her feeling bereft when it was gone.
She shut the book after making note of the referenced text. Fate. For a person who put such little stock in Divination it looked like she would be researching the subject rather thoroughly. She stayed in the library until curfew, wondering when it would next make an appearance.
Draco Malfoy on the other hand, had no intention of analyzing the annoyance that was the red string around his ankle. He despised it. He ignored it. When it appeared, he looked away as quickly as he could and willed it away until it disappeared from view again.
After a few appearances where he staunchly ignored the offending thread, it seemed to rebel. He began tripping over it. He would find himself with a tangle of red around his foot that of course no one else could see. It seemed to know that he had no interest in the anomaly and did not like being ignored. He would feel it tug him sharply and had caused him to fall on more than one occasion. It was increasingly becoming a pain in his arse.
As he desired to live in blissful ignorance, he tried not to ponder on the times the blasted string had made an appearance.
During second year, after one of the Basilisk attacks, he was strolling by the Hospital Wing when it rather aggressively wrapped around his ankle and made him trip over his feet. He had brushed it off as casually as he could, commenting to a perplexed Theo that it was probably a tripping jinx. Most likely Gryffindors. Theo had laughed and he used the distraction to untangle his foot and led them swiftly away from the thread leading under the Hospital Wing's entrance.
There was the time in third year that he especially tried not to think about. Granger had punched him because of that oaf Hagrid. He had chalked his graceless exit up to the fact that he couldn't see through the pain and had avoided looking at the ground by holding his bloody nose. The red was his blood and his stumble was because he couldn't see. That's what he told himself anyways.
The Yule Ball was the latest occurrence and one that still caused him to cringe when he thought back to it. Which he tried not to. Because this infuriating, random annoyance was not something befitting a Malfoy Heir. It had almost caused him to make a fool of himself dancing by twining around his legs, making him step on the toes of a very annoyed Pansy Parkinson. He blamed the punch and kept his eyes skyward for the rest of the night. He ignored the red that wound its way through the dance floor.
Draco Malfoy had no intention of speculating on what might be occurring. Because there was nothing to speculate on. No one else could see it. His father would be furious and would most likely blame the Black Family Madness. He could already hear the disparaging comments about his sanity and how it might affect his familial obligations. He would probably be disowned. So he ignored it and looked away whenever he saw a hint of red