Unfortunately for Hermione, her mind didn't quite work like that. She couldn't just push the tournament out of her mind as easily as Harry and Draco seemed able to – it haunted her, constantly pushing its way back into her brain. The prophecy from over the summer seemed to run through her head whenever she had a moment of peace, the short, squat prophetess who'd pronounced the ominous words hounding her subconscious.
"A bond with the fourth, connections to three
Embroiled and entangled will she be
Worried for all, she will cheer for none
But one will be lost before the game is done
The queen from cold, in the midst of her strife
will find herself desperately bargaining to save a life."
Bargaining for a life, in any context, was not good, and the thought of being responsible for someone dying plagued Hermione's dreams.
Stress took its toll on Hermione, giving her nightmares and a rough time sleeping, and even her appetite dwindled. Viktor grew more concerned, finally broaching the subject over the weekend.
"You are not doing well, Hermione," he told her. "What is wrong?"
It didn't feel fair to unload her anxieties about Harry being in the tournament onto Viktor. After all, Viktor was in the tournament. And he was one of the three Hermione had connections to – one of the people whose life she might have to bargain to save.
"I'm just incredibly stressed," Hermione admitted with a sigh, leaning into him and relaxing slightly as he pulled her closer with an arm. "The tournament, classes, my extracurricular projects – it's just a lot. And the lack of sunlight doesn't help."
"Is always harder to be happy when there is no sun," Viktor agreed, giving her a commiserating frown. "I have same challenge." He paused a moment. "Want to walk after dinner? We can to watch sun set and talk about your problems."
It was such a thoughtful offer, given so genuinely and earnestly, that Hermione found herself accepting Viktor's offer of kindness, agreeing to meet him in the Entrance Hall after supper. It wasn't until Hermione was lacing up her outdoor boots and getting her cloak, Tracey giving her a wolf-whistle and a wink, that she abruptly realized she had agreed to what might be a date. That gave her hesitation – should she change? Should she put on something different, something nicer? – before she shoved it out of her mind. Viktor had offered to talk to her to help her feel better – romance wasn't exactly on the menu.
Hermione's naivete was quickly exposed as she and Viktor watched the sun set next to the lake, alone in the quiet and cold, slowly cuddling closer and closer for warmth. They talked about her stress, Viktor offered to help her study more advanced spells, and Hermione felt a bit better after the conversation, enough to relax into him as they watched dusk approach. The emotional concern they'd shared, though – that intimacy, now next to the warmth of Viktor's arms around her as he pulled her closer into him to protect her from the cold –
Regardless of what Hermione's brain had intended, her heart took off on its own speedy pitter-patter down a reckless path, and Hermione found herself turning in Viktor's arms, meeting his eyes for a long moment – taking in his dilated pupils, the way his breath caught when she looked at him – before abruptly straddling his legs and leaning forward to kiss him.
Viktor gasped beneath her, then groaned, and then very actively participated in the kiss, growling slightly when she did something he liked, making her gasp and moan when he tried out techniques of his own.
Snogging was an excellent way of clearing the mind, Hermione dimly thought, even as most of her was utterly preoccupied with Viktor kissing his way up her neck to her ear. It had never worked with Cedric, but thoroughly kissing Fleur or Viktor seemed to be just the stress relief she needed, helping her thoughts and stress finally stop for a brief moment in time.
When it got too cold for Hermione to stop shivering, Viktor broke away from her for a moment, looking thoroughly snogged, and hesitated.
"Is cold," he said, rather obviously. He nodded toward the lake. "If you want… ship is right there…"
He let the sentence hang between them, and Hermione's eyes widened.
"Ah—I like to kiss you," Viktor quickly, a bit anxiously. "Not—I not expecting—I only mean to say it is warm—"
His flustered face was adorable, and Hermione leaned up to kiss the tip of his nose, making him quiet, blushing.
"That, Viktor," she said, giving him her best sensual smile, one she'd practiced in the mirror a thousand times after her seduction lessons, "is an excellent idea."
Viktor made a strangled sound, and the next thing she knew, she'd been scooped up in his arms with Viktor hurrying toward the ship, cradling her against his chest as he muttered things in Bulgarian, and Hermione laughed, musing that she'd never seen a man move so fast before in her life.
Before the holiday, Fleur had commented that she didn't think Hermione was Dark because she instinctively reached for Fiendfyre – just that it was one of the most powerful spells Hermione knew. This made sense to Hermione – why wouldn't she always go for the biggest gun if she knew it would work? – and opened up the possibility of Hermione not using Dark curses if she knew other powerful spells.
The problem was that most combat spells, to some degree, were Dark spells. Using them in self-defense instead of to forcibly assert your will over someone else was what seemed to make them 'okay' in the eyes of the Ministry, but Hermione wondered – if she started a fight, even for a good cause, would they still register as 'Dark'?
The other issue with combat spells was that they were well known. Most students learned the same curriculum when it came to their classes on dueling. If everyone knew the Confundus Charm, the Disarming Charm, the Full Body-Bind Curse, the Stunning Spell, and so on and so forth, no one would be caught off guard with anything thrown at them. Duels would be decided by speed of reaction time and shield strength – which, while Hermione fancied her chances of shielding for ages against her classmates, was not something she wanted to chance against the forces of evil.
Hogwarts had an extensive library of spellbooks, but there were none entitled Top Ten Most Powerful Curses to Crush Your Enemy or Most Innovative and Unexpected Spells to Use to Win in a Duel. Which made sense, she knew reluctantly, but it made coming up with innovative uses of spells harder – putting the burden on her.
Fleur was supportive in this mission, meeting her in the library to help her brainstorm.
"Maybe you needn't start from nothing," she said, encouraging. "Think of other things you've seen or read. You grew up in the non-magical world – what magical things did muggles think could be done?"
This made Hermione immediately put down Wand Lightsaber and Force Lightning on her list. Now that she had mysterious spooky black robes, she figured she might as well go all the way and become Darth Hermione – only not evil.
Fleur's advice was helpful – Hermione went to her trunk and dug out the old muggle books her father had given her, the ones he used when he pretended to be a wizard, and she found herself reading through something called the Wizard's Spell Compendium. The spells seemed to range from trivial to terrifying, with no rhyme or reason to them, and Hermione found herself having fun as she read through them, making a list of things to look up as she went.
Some of them were silly spells, but Hermione could see the utility of them. Adhesion magically glued two objects together, and Babble made the target babble useless syllables like they were having a stroke. Hermione immediately wanted to find real versions both fictional muggle spells for her own purposes. Either one inside of a duel could be enough to get a winning edge.
There were also more directly aggressive spells. Drenal's Amok Needles shot needles at an opponent constantly during a fight (though it required pre-prepared needles), and Seal Mouth tried to magically seal someone's mouth shut. There were also spells called Acid Lash, Basilisk Gaze, Flashburst, Scalding Spout, and Sandstorm, all of which sounded like potential combat spells, several of which she might be able to use in conjunction with her elemental magic.
Hermione was doing this research in the library after classes one afternoon when Theo materialized out of the shelves, pulling out a seat at her table and sitting himself down, looking directly at her. He didn't say anything, and Hermione blinked, watching him for a long moment.
"…can I help you?" Hermione asked, trying to keep her puzzlement from her tone.
Theo took a breath, preparing himself.
"My cousins from Russia are not in a good place," he began. "Their lives are… well, shit, really, and they have very little hope of a good life as adults. I am considering inviting them to live with me in Nott Manor after the year is over, to help them emigrate to the UK."
Hermione blinked.
"Really?" she asked, caught entirely off-guard. "You've known these people for, what, a month? Two? And you'd invite them to live with you?"
"Should I leave them to languish?" Theo shot back, irritated. "With what to look forward to, starvation?" He sniffed. "For them to die may be nothing, but it would be terrible not to give them a chance to live."
That was rather unexpectedly eloquent, Hermione thought, struck. She paused, considering.
"Would they want to live with you?" she asked uncertainly. "Would they want to just up and leave their lives behind?"
"People weighed down with troubles do not look back," Theo retorted, folding his arms. "They know only too well that misfortune stalks them."
Hermione was positive he was quoting something now, but she had no idea as to what.
"What would your father say?" she ventured, and here, Theo groaned.
"That's the problem," he grumbled. "I—I suspect he would not be the most welcoming of my cousins. They're not his blood, after all. And Nott Manor is… well…"
"Did your mother add her blood to the wards when she married your father?" Hermione asked, curious. "That might offer them some level of sanctuary."
Theo considered.
"I don't know," he said, pausing. "I wasn't there for that bit, clearly, but it's tradition. I can't imagine they would have skipped it…"
"Well, then," Hermione said reasonably. "Your father's rarely there, and your house is massive. There's a fair chance you could just hide them until your father's no longer a problem."
Theo raised an eyebrow.
"Are you suggesting I 'take care' of the problem?" he asked delicately. "Of my own father?"
"Until you can persuade him," Hermione snapped, making a face. "Merlin. You and Blaise both, turning to violent, terminal solutions at every turn…"
"If I do this," Theo warned her, his eyes serious, "there is little chance they would not notice my activity with the Shadows."
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Do you think your cousins would join our cause?"
"Perhaps." Theo seemed to gnaw his cheek. "Honestly, I don't know them well enough to guess at that yet. But there's a decent chance – especially if you help provide them a better life."
Hermione sighed, considering.
"Are they part of Viktor's group of friends who are going to make staves with us?" she asked. When he shook his head, she suggested, "Maybe encourage them to join that group first? If they get exposure to the Shadows in a familiar environment with people they know, it may be an easier sell when the time comes."
Theo looked surprised by this, then thoughtful.
"Do you think this is a good idea?" he asked her finally. "To ask people I barely know to sleep under my roof, just because they are my blood?"
Hermione hesitated.
"Theo, I am very bad at not offering to help anyone whenever and wherever I can," she admitted. She gave him a wry smile. "I'm definitely not the best person to ask."
Part of the challenge with being very busy, in Hermione's opinion, was keeping in touch with everyone and making sure nothing got forgotten and no one felt unappreciated. It was difficult to make sure she kept up relationships with everyone she wanted to, and when an all-too-familiar diary fell out of her trunk one evening, Hermione froze for a moment, staring, before she groaned.
"Everything alright there, Hermione?" Tracey asked.
"Tom's going to kill me," Hermione despaired, and Tracey started laughing.
"Good luck with that," she advised her, smirking, and Hermione threw a pillow at her before picking up the diary with a sigh.
Tom, as it happened, was not a happy camper, and he made it known to Hermione when she finally pulled him free of the diary to visit on one of the warmer winter days.
"You didn't write for over a month!" he complained. "You just left me here. With him."
Voldemort rolled his eyes.
"Drama queen," he said.
"I'm sorry," Hermione apologized. "I've just—I've been so busy. There was the Yule Ball, and I made a million diamonds for that, and before that was the Dark revenge ritual, and before that—"
"I'm sorry," Tom cut in pleasantly. "Did you say Dark Revenge ritual?"
"Um." Hermione hesitated. "I did."
"And," Tom said, his eyes glinting a bit manically, his charming smile firmly fixed in place, "you didn't think to tell me?"
Hermione was very glad she hadn't drained her magic into the diary in a while.
As she explained the Dark Revenge ritual to Tom, she spun it into a female revenge sort-of bonding thing, trying to emphasize those aspects so Tom didn't feel left out that she hadn't come to him for help. She highlighted the information that had been found in books, not who had found it with her (Viktor), and made sure to emphasize that she'd done the ritual not with her coven, but convened her female dormmates instead.
To her relief, Tom seemed relatively assuaged by this.
"That's honestly quite impressive," he complimented her, after she was done explaining it all. "Well done."
Hermione blushed. "Thank you."
She went on to explain a few of her other current projects to him, so Tom would feel included. He looked utterly bored by the ground purification efforts, but his interest sparked when she talked about combat spells.
"Spell crafting is one of the things that made me want to look deeper into magic," Tom told her. "Why should coming up with a spell be so complicated? When a child can make things happen according to their whims?"
"Exactly," Hermione said emphatically, and Tom gave her a dazzling smile, before he considered.
"Your idea of unorthodox uses of existing spells is a good one," he told her. "Your classmate won a duel with a charm for broken arms, once. Similar strategies are likely to prove effective as well."
"It's just a lot of research," Hermione said with a sigh. "Not that I mind research – quite the contrary, really – but there's no guarantee of success by a specific time, and the unknown is giving me anxiety."
"I went more into raw magic," Voldemort said abruptly, and Hermione looked up at him in surprise, her gaze meeting his red eyes. His eyes were unfocused, remembering. "There's a way – there's a way when you don't think about the spell, what you're going to do. Where you become the magic, really, and your will becomes wordless, your power just intuitively responding to it…"
He trailed off, going quiet, and Hermione looked at Tom, who was also wide-eyed.
"That sounds incredible," he said, and Voldemort jolted, roused from his thoughts.
"I can hardly teach you now," he sneered, the expression bizarre on his waxy, snake-like face. "I don't have any magic. How could I?"
"I didn't ask you to teach me," Tom snapped. "Like I'd ever need to learn anything from you—"
As they devolved into bickering (reminding Hermione why she'd put off visiting for so long in the first place), Hermione considered what Voldemort had said.
She'd felt that before, hadn't she?
Hadn't she?
There'd been the time at Azkaban, where the dementor was escaping and she'd just flung out her magic and grasped, and then her earth magic took control. Only… maybe that had been the earth elemental doing what it wanted, not her truly becoming one with magic. She'd literally harmonized with Magic itself before, to tear a new ley line – was it similar to that? If she harmonized her magic with all of Magic, would it come to her instinctively like she wanted?
Maybe it was a taught limitation, Hermione thought, looking down at her hands. If she'd been able to make her toys float as a baby and make her books at the top fall off the shelves as a child, why would she possibly be limited by a wand now?
Safety, Hermione thought with a grimace. Do you want your wand to blow up, or your hand?
Maybe there was a way to reach that same level of intuitive magic with a wand, she hoped. Either that, or she'd eventually have to start learning wandless magic again, and she really didn't want to risk losing a hand.