Came from the void, shaking the stream of consciousness,
Shattered and shattered the world around us.
So strange... I have not said a word to make amends,
But here I am no longer an Enemy, though not yet a Friend.
I cannot yet banish my doubts,
But give me your hand, and I'll take it.
Though blind enmity be no nearer to deliverance,
I am inwardly ready to go all the way to it.
She did not have time for something most important.
And now her memory will be erased, and she will not even be able to regret this never-found understanding. Hermione sat in a chair in the middle of Dumbledore's office and quietly fell into despair.
Snape went to find the Headmaster, leaving them on their own for a while. A heavy stone fell from the soul. Help is on the way. Only half past three in the morning, and they are already in the director's office, and now everything will be fine. One girl would never have been able to do what they did. Hermione looked up from her knees and looked at the young man, who leaned back in a nearby chair, and wearily closed his eyes.
He doesn't look good somehow, the girl thought anxiously. The traces of upbringing left by Lucius Malfoy on his son's face disappeared. True, Hermione did not see when he managed to heal the broken lip and remove the bruise, but even without them, the overall appearance of the Slytherin leaves much to be desired.
"Malfoy," the girl called softly, "how are you?"
Contrary to common sense and long-term habit, she worried about this strange man. Amazing! Without making any visible effort, he crawled something into the girl's soul. He just turned out to be capable of emotions, experiences. It did not fit so well with the usual idea.
"Now we have reached," the youth replied without opening his eyes, "so you can no longer show your touching concern."
Hermione struggled to overcome the urge to crack his head. Why is he so nasty ?! After all, it may be different, she saw it today.
"Mindful of today's communication, to the wrong address!"
"I didn't expect anything from you. I just want to understand why you are so disgusting?"
"Well, I won't interfere.
He grinned vilely without opening his eyes.
Hermione looked at him closely and again fell into despair.
Where did Dumbledore go? Time is ticking. " I didn't want to sit in this room with the vile bastard, which had recently become quite bearable Malfoy.
As if in response to her thoughts, the door swung open and the headmaster of the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry entered.
Hermione immediately jumped up to meet him:
"Professor Dumbledore!"
Malfoy also got up from his chair, but did not rush to meet him, and generally froze in silence.
"Good evening," Dumbledore greeted. "Sit down, please, and tell everything in order."
The principal quickly walked around the table, took his place and looked from one student to another.
Hermione sank tensely into her chair and looked at Malfoy. For some reason she did not know whether to tell everything. Malfoy sat down indifferently in his seat and, without turning his head, nodded towards Hermione to start.
The girl sighed and looked into the eyes of the great wizard. Meeting his attentive gaze, she felt such a burning relief that the words themselves broke out and she, at first stumbling, but more and more confidently, told her amazing story. In all the details, the girl told about their walk with Harry, about his abduction, described the carriage. When she presented the coat of arms on the door, Dumbledore shot a quick glance at Malfoy. Hermione also looked in the direction of the young man. It is not known what Dumbledore saw there, but Hermione stumbled upon a complete indifference to everything around her. Draco Malfoy sat with his elbows resting on the armrests of the chair and his chin on his clasped hands. His indifferent gaze was directed to the flame in the fireplace to the left of the director's table. He just sat and stared at the fire, as if everything that was happening did not concern him in any way.
Hermione turned her gaze back to Dumbledore, and it seemed to her that there was a glimpse in the headmaster's eyes of something that the girl herself had never been able to comprehend. She was surprised the headmaster showed no surprise at Malfoy's willingness to help. He just took everything that was happening for granted.
Hermione sighed and continued her story. When she reached the escape from the carriage, Malfoy's harsh voice rang out:
"Enough! Nothing significant happened next."
Hermione turned in indignation at him, but he looked straight into the headmaster's eyes.
"Potter is in the dungeon of my ancestral castle," Malfoy said flatly. "We have come for help.
Dumbledore stared at the Slytherin head. Draco Malfoy has been his headache for the seventh year. Ever since he appeared on platform 9 and 3/4 as an eleven-year-old boy desperate to prove something to himself. For the past six years, those around him believed that only the Boy-Who-Lived had been closely watched by the director. But no! This was far from the case. Albus Dumbledore over the years used to consider himself responsible for every child, crossing the threshold of Hogwarts and, of course, worried about everyone too. But sometimes there are more children within the walls, causing anxiety different from what Dumbledore felt about students in various communities. The reasons were different. However, so are the children.
And the young man sitting opposite now was of no less interest to him than Harry Potter. Dumbledore knew more than one generation of the ancient Malfoy family and could confidently say that Draco was hardly more fortunate in terms of a "happy" childhood than Harry. The difference between the boys was that Harry could talk about the disgusting Muggle relatives who made his childhood hell, and Draco couldn't and didn't want to. The powerful, ancient Malfoy bloodline was overly revered in certain circles of the wizarding community, and Draco went out of his way to maintain the surname's impeccable reputation. Young Malfoy never said a single bad word about his family, moreover, he did not allow anyone to do this.
But there was another reason: inexplicable, intuitive. Even for Dumbledore, who can sense the thoughts and intentions of other people, the last offspring of the Malfoy family was a puzzle. There was something in him that distinguished him from other children, and this could not but be alarming. It was also alarming that the boy clearly could not cope and systematically drove himself into a dead end. Too much he had to keep to himself, and the role that he had chosen for himself was too difficult. In front of the director's eyes, this incomprehensible person turned from a malevolent boy, rushing about in the nets of his own prejudices, into a cold and alienated young man, hiding with pride and still often ostentatious indifference. But time will pass, and the game will become indistinguishable from life, and then completely replace it. Albus Dumbledore saw this in his lifetime more than once, and he really did not want to witness the metamorphoses of this particular boy.
There must be a way to change something, Dumbledore told himself, but he knew too little about the thoughts and feelings of the younger Malfoy. Unlike his father, who, with all his outward aplomb, was always an open book for the director, Draco remained a mystery to Albus Dumbledore. It was impossible to say in which direction the choice of this cold-blooded young man would swing. I wanted to help, I really wanted ... but you can only help when you know what a person wants. And in the case of this teenager, Dumbledore was not sure of anything.
And now the director wondered how Malfoy had ended up at Hogwarts at night, and even with the headman of Gryffindor, whom he had always hated. This means that something was able to overcome the dislike. This something must be very strong. The Headmaster did not understand the motive behind Draco Malfoy's action today. And the young man himself, it seems, was in no hurry to lay out his cards, realizing that those around him would do everything to save the Hope of the magical world, and frankly taking advantage of his advantage.
"What are you suggesting, Mr. Malfoy?" the director said.
"I suggest we go to the manor and get Potter."
The estate is not applicable. You are aware that you will reveal its location, and it will no longer be able to serve as a reliable shelter for some ... people. "
Hermione held her breath. If Malfoy agrees, it's over. A squad of Aurors will break into the estate and capture the Dark Lord, and with him this lousy sadist. It's all over, the war is over. Hermione couldn't help smiling and turned to ... the savior? What she saw made the smile disappear.
Malfoy sat up straight in his chair, seemingly forgetting about his injured shoulder. For a second, squeezing his eyes, he froze, and then he opened his eyes and finally straightened up. A nasty grin played on his lips.
"Professor, you don't understand ... I want you to take Potter out of my house," he said articulate and surprisingly calm. "It's all."
"Malfoy!" Hermione shouted indignantly, and again no reaction.
The young man was still looking the director in the eye.
Dumbledore sighed. Not! It seemed impossible to help this boy. Unless he asks for it himself. For some reason, I thought hard: hardly. Too proud, too arrogant, too young. And with such a pace, he may not have time to grow up ...
"Your suggestions?"
"The castle is undergoing force field repairs until midday. This is the only way for you to get inside. I will draw a diagram of the location where Potter is being held. You go to the dungeon, pick him up and take him in any direction. I don't care. He must disappear from the castle. "
"Let me know why?"
"Actually, I thought everyone should have been knocked off their feet, or is Potter not that popular anymore and no one but Granger wants to save him?" Malfoy was obviously cocky, and Hermione was startled. It had never occurred to her that it was possible to talk in such a tone with the director. Harry got away with it, but Harry always had good reason to be angry or angry. The way Malfoy was acting now made Hermione think the Headmaster was too loyal to the Slytherin. Or he simply appreciated the seriousness of the situation. After all, without Malfoy, saving Harry was not possible. It's ridiculous. Draco Malfoy made everyone dance to his tune again. The girl looked at the seated youth with dislike. Dumbledore calmly said:
"You get the point, Mr. Malfoy. What exactly are you trying to achieve?"
"The disappearance of Potter from the castle. Why? With all due respect, Professor, I reserve the right to remain silent."
"How do you plan to get us to the castle without revealing its location?" nodding at Malfoy's tirade, the headmaster asked.
"Portkey," Malfoy said simply. "It will take me five minutes to make it. It will move everyone to the walls of the castle. Next, you will go to the dungeons."
"Smart!" praised the professor. "Where will you be at this time?"
"There is a transport fireplace near the outer walls. With it, I will go to the castle to be inside during the final actions."
Dumbledore looked closely at the young man, who returned him a straight gaze. Everything looked very much like a trap. Too simple, too far-fetched. Hermione was thinking the same thing. Now, when that even, cold voice sounded, that Malfoy, who was laughing merrily in the hallway of Hogwarts, seemed to her something unreal. This one, on the other hand, was too believable. Malfoy, who did not let the girl fall from the broom, she believed unconditionally. This is not.
"What if it's a trap? What if with his help the best Aurors will fall into the hands of the enemy? "
The door creaked softly and Snape entered. He was clearly surprised by the dead silence that reigned in the room. He even froze in indecision halfway to the director.
And then Malfoy spoke up:
"You can feel thoughts ..."
"There are people who will not allow it," Dumbledore looked at the young man carefully and after a pause he said. "Ok, Draco, you can start making portkey."
Hermione looked from one face to another. Apparently, Malfoy allowed the Headmaster to see something that he believed.
The young man looked around in search of a suitable object, and stretched out his hand to the silver goblet, glancing at the director. He nodded in agreement. Then Malfoy took out his wand and began to cast spells, making movements that Hermione did not understand. She was reading portkey technology, but Malfoy was doing something wrong.
"Smart," Snape chuckled as he watched his headman's actions. "Where did you learn this? Protection blocks all possibilities to track the path of movement. I would not be surprised if it is only two-way and encoded for a specific person."
Malfoy looked up and grinned. Hermione realized that the Slytherin's skills were clearly not part of the school curriculum. Life in a castle stuffed with dark forces and all kinds of protective spells will unwittingly teach you something useful.
"Severus, I suggest you," Dumbledore said with a slight smile and gestured towards Malfoy.
Snape walked over to the boy and put his hand to the goblet. Something flashed, and all three smiled again. Hermione realized that Malfoy had applied protection, and now only in the presence of Snape it would be possible to use this portkey and even for a limited time. The girl involuntarily envied: Malfoy was clearly able to surprise everyone present with his knowledge.
And Albus Dumbledore only sighed. He has always admired talented people. Draco Malfoy is definitely talented. It was a shame to realize that this nugget did not belong to this camp. Hopefully, it didn't belong to that either.
Malfoy got up and set the goblet on the director's table.
"Draco," Dumbledore's voice made the young man look up from his creation.
"I don't ask where your father and the Dark Lord are now. I think I already know the answer. But you must understand that it's natural to want to try to catch them off guard. I cannot guarantee that the Aurors who came with us will take Harry and not try to break into the castle itself. Too great a temptation. "
Malfoy looked the headmaster in the eye and quietly replied:
"I'll make sure that you only have access to the dungeon entrance. Any attempt to break into the castle will sound an alarm, and then even the best squad of Aurors will not survive. Trust me! Too much effort has been put by more than one generation of Malfoys to protect their estate. You know what generic protection is. "
Like this! Simply and calmly, this young man did not threaten. Not! He warned.
"Are you sure? The whole story can be changed, Draco."
"Professor Dumbledore," the young man said firmly, "you take Potter, that's all."
The director nodded silently. It was pointless to argue and persuade. The imperius spell could have been cast. In the course of the war, which, even if it was not yet obvious, but was going on, no one was persecuted for using unforgivable spells. Control over the wizarding community was lost. And if it were otherwise, it would not have stopped the director anyway. Malfoy's submission would have allowed him to enter the castle, but it did not guarantee Harry's salvation and, moreover, victory in the duel. Not! But it threatened Malfoy himself with an accurate definition of his addictions. And so there was still Hope. Let it be scanty, but still. After all, today he came. It doesn't matter what moved him at that moment. The result is important.
The Headmaster looked at Snape and said quietly:
"Severus, please gather everyone at the main entrance."
Snape nodded and left.
"It will take about ten minutes to get ready," the director said to the two students, "Miss Granger, I suppose there is no point in putting you through additional tests. You will stay here until I return."
Hermione looked at the glittering goblet and was glad she didn't have to use the portkey. Not that she didn't trust Malfoy's skills - of course she didn't! Although the Headmaster and Snape watched him act ... No! It's just that this way of transportation was, perhaps, the most unloved. You are twisted into a knot and thrown through space. Terrible. What about Malfoy?
"Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione exclaimed, "Malfoy needs help. He can't use the portkey right now."
She really shouldn't have bothered about that, but somehow she knew that Malfoy would never admit vulnerability. The murderous look let her know that she was not mistaken.
"What's the matter with you, Mr. Malfoy?" the director turned to the young man.
"The professor is fine with me, but Granger just reminded me. I have one more condition: her memory must be erased."
Dumbledore calmly looked into the eyes of the Slytherin and clarified:
"Everything?"
"Yes," Malfoy began, "because ..."
"Mr. Malfoy, I will grant your request," Hermione froze. She hadn't expected anything like this. The world is going to hell, "but with one condition. We erase Miss Granger all memory, and I leave you in one room for a while, during which you patiently try to explain to the girl who she is, what this place is, and why you in one room at three o'clock in the morning. How do you like this plan? "
Malfoy glanced hatefully at Hermione.
"I meant all the memories of tonight."
"Is it that important to you?"
"Yes! This is my condition. Granger has learned too much that no one needs to know. I cannot let her walk around with this information freely."
The director looked at the girl and said quietly:
"This will be done after we get back. Miss Granger is the only one privy to the details of our mission so far. It may happen that things don't go according to plan. I can't risk it."
Malfoy gave Hermione a long look and nodded reluctantly.
"So what's the matter with you?" the director repeated his question.
"His shoulder is injured," Hermione interjected angrily.
Malfoy raised his eyes to the ceiling.
"Granger, I can still speak myself."
"That's what I see," the girl responded irritably.
Dumbledore watched their conversation with a grin.
"I can invite Madame Pomfrey ..."
"You don't need to bother her at three in the morning," Malfoy replied wearily.
"Good! Miss Granger, as far as I remember, is one of the best in the medi-medicine course ... I need a couple of minutes to cook something."
With that, Dumbledore left. A tense silence reigned in the room. Much to Hermione's surprise, Malfoy broke it.
"Granger, I think you misunderstood something. Our mission is over, and you can no longer act as a caring comrade. If I needed your help, I would tell you."
The girl turned sharply and met his angry gaze.
"Malfoy, not everything in this world happens according to your schedule! When I see fit, then I'll finish" playing a comrade in arms. "Got it? As for help, normal people accept it with gratitude. Normal people, you know, are nice, when worried about them. "
"These are normal people," Malfoy retorted, "and in your understanding of normalcy. But there are other people in the world, for example ..."
"Slytherins," Hermione blurted out as she watched Malfoy's face stiffen.
"What do you lousy Gryffindors know about our house?" Malfoy began in a low, icy voice. - "What right do you have to judge anyone? You live by your invented idiotic laws, having somehow decided that if someone lives in real life, he is worse than you. Who are you to judge? Ah! Children of the Death Eaters! Ah! They want to take over the world and kill the unfortunate Potter. And the fact that half of us do not care about your beloved Potter and even this whole idiotic world ... "
The girl recoiled involuntarily. Malfoy spoke very softly, but he had better yelled. It would be somehow human. And so everything inside was numb. Maybe because he was telling the truth? Hermione never wondered why they hated Slytherin. Yes, they did not shine with moral qualities and often did mean things to everyone. But was this not the reason for the alienation of other faculties, which eleven-year-old children came across, dressed in green with the emblem in the form of a snake? Did they themselves make the Slytherins that way? From year to year, from century to century. Has no one ever had this question?
How could Hermione know that there had already been a similar conversation in the Hogwarts music parlor nearly twenty years ago. Then the blonde girl was wearing a Slytherin cheerleader sweater, and her pigtails were tied with short green ribbons. The second participant in the conversation was wearing a robe with a lion on his chest. Narcissa Black then accused Remus Lupine of much the same. Only, perhaps, there was not so much poison in her words as now in the speech of her seventeen-year-old son.
Perhaps Malfoy was right, but after all, no one forced him for six years to seek the expulsion of Harry, humiliate Ron, and even Hermione herself.
"Ah! Poor Slytherin," the girl suddenly shouted, furiously. "Callous Gryffindors do not understand us! Everyone around does not see our gentle and kind souls! You are all soft and fluffy, right Malfoy?"
"I - no," the young man replied calmly and grinned, "I was not talking about myself."
"Oh yes! About our precious Blaise Zabini," Hermione simply spat out the Slytherin's name.
"For example," Malfoy responded.
"She's just arrogant, selfish ..."
"Another word in the same spirit, Granger, and I will spit on Dumbledore's desire to leave you in the ranks of the reserve army. I will erase your memory to hell. Only here is the problem: I am not very strong in this, and your whole life will become a blank sheet for you. And I, to your misfortune, is clearly not a noble Gryffindor, and you will cuckle in ignorance here. Or better yet, I'll give you something funny - you yourself will throw yourself out of the window in shame, without waiting for Dumbledore's return. "
"What a bastard you are! I thought, looking at my father, you would have at least a little brain and you would at least try to become normal."
Malfoy slowly drew out his wand.
"I warned," he said almost in a whisper, "now blame yourself."
The door flew open and Dumbledore appeared in the doorway. Malfoy put his wand in his pocket with a magician gesture and turned away from Hermione. A vein throbbed furiously in his neck.
"Are you finished?" Dumbledore asked.
"Yes!"
"Not!"
They answered in chorus, but unfortunately for Malfoy, his "yes" sounded too soft.
"Did something interfere with you?" Dumbledore turned to the girl.
"Patient intractability," Hermione replied.
Dumbledore sighed.
"Mr. Malfoy, take off your sweater."
Malfoy glared back at Hermione. She turned the other way.
There was a rustle of clothes and Dumbledore's voice:
"Yes, Miss Granger is right. Tearing a muscle. It is foolish to pretend to be a hero. You have to be fully armed at crucial moments."
The Headmaster whispered something, and a silvery glow reached Hermione's side vision. Then came Malfoy's voice:
"Thank you, professor."
Hermione turned to see Malfoy pulling on his sweater. It's strange. Seeing half-dressed Malfoy so many times in one evening. This is overkill.
"Well," said the director, "everything is ready. Miss Granger, if no one comes in here by noon, send this thing with a mail owl. She will find the addressee herself."
The director handed her a small parcel. Hermione nodded, and it sucked in her stomach. She will now be left alone and can only wait and desperately pray to all known Gods so that everything goes as planned. For Harry to finally return to Hogwarts, so that no one in the castle of this nasty bastard would know about his role in saving the prisoner. For some reason, the girl was also worried.
"Good luck," she whispered softly after Dumbledore. He looked around and nodded. From his look, Hermione realized that he was already somewhere far beyond all that exists - he was preparing for a duel. And now the outcome of this crazy rescue operation depended on him. From him and from another person.
Draco Malfoy silently walked past Hermione, picking up a silver goblet from the table.
"Malfoy," the girl called, "thanks."
"I'm not doing this for you," he said quietly.
"I know."
"And not for Potter," this strange man decided to clarify.
"Nevertheless thank you."
He turned sharply and walked towards the exit. However, at the very doorway he said:
"If you try to do some trick, and someone finds out about today, you will very much regret that you received a letter from Hogwarts six years ago."
With these words, he quickly left. Hermione looked at the slammed door. There was no strength to get angry. And it should. And not even because of the ridiculous threat, no. It's just that today he could take a step towards Dumbledore and become a hero. Everything was simple for the girl. White and black. Behind youthful maximalism, she did not notice that Draco Malfoy had already taken a step that he might regret. She will figure it out later. In the meantime, all the forces left the body at once, and the girl could hardly stay on her feet.
Everything was decided, but the heavy stone was in no hurry to leave her heart.