Hermione stirred as a piercing ray of golden sunlight sliced through the dim room, warming her cheek. It was an unfamiliar sensation – her heavy curtains were always drawn shut before bed. The air was cool against her skin, the faint scent of charred wood from last night's fire lingering. Her limbs felt leaden with exhaustion and ash she blinked against the light, disoriented, she realised she wasn't in her own bed. Theo's newly transfigured bed beneath her was stiff but the blankets had been tucked around her with care.
Memories from the night before crashed over her like a breaking wave. Hours of hushed conversation following the incident with Malfoy. The weight of her research had all unravelled in the quiet space between them. She struggled to recall the final moments of their discussion – exhaustion had stolen them from her. But by the ache in her muscles, she doubted she'd gotten more than a couple of hours of rest. She assumed Theo had carried her to his bed, knowing that she wanted to avoid the dagger for the time being. A pang of guilt rushed through her as she caught sight of him, his body twisted uncomfortably in an attempt to fit properly on the chaise.
Stretching, Hermione let out a quiet groan as her muscles protested. She exhaled heavily, her breath stirring the loose tendrils of hair framing her face. Across the room, Theo stirred, his eyes fluttering as they adjusted to the morning light.
"Morning," she murmured, voice still laced with sleep.
Theo yawned, rubbing at his eyes. "Morning."
"You're an idiot," Hermione told him, sitting up in bed, the blankets still wrapped warmly around her.
"Hmm?" Theo replied, to sleep deprived to register the insult.
"You slept on the chaise," she observed. "Your backs going to hurt now." Theo waved a dismissive hand but winced the moment he straightened. Hermione smirked. "Told you."
He grumbled something incoherent before reaching for the red leather book resting on the nearby table – the same one she had shown him the night before. Climbing onto the end of the bed, he sat cross-legged. "Sleep okay?"
"Barely," Hermione responded. "More than I thought I would, though." Theo nodded, running a hand through his messy morning hair. "You?"
"Didn't sleep," he muttered, looking down at the book. "Hermione… how much of this book did you read?"
Hermione furrowed her brow in contemplation. "I scanned most of it," she explained. "A lot of it was irrelevant."
Theo nodded and opened the book, flipping through its pages absentmindedly. "Did you read anything beyond this passage?" he asked, as he landed on the pages she had shown him the night before.
"Not yet," she said, shaking her head. "Why do you ask?"
"After you fell asleep last night, I kept going," Theo said, pressing his lips together as he flipped forward a few pages. "I was hoping for some more information… a clearer direction as to where to go next."
"I see," Hermione followed.
Theo exhaled a shaky breath and turned the book to face Hermione. "But I found this."
Hermione let the blankets pool around her waist as she reached for the book. She lifted it onto her lap and read the passage Theo indicated.
The consequences of an incomplete ritual are far more dire than mere instability. Magic left in limbo does not dissipate harmlessly. Instead, it festers, seeking resolution in whatever way it can. A ritual severed before its completion leaves the subject caught in an in-between state – neither fully within the realm of the living nor entirely claimed by the forces invoked. This precarious existence is marked by physical decay as the lingering spellwork siphons the life force in its struggle to conclude itself.
A cold dread coiled in her stomach, nausea creeping up her throat. Her hands began to shake as a sharp thrum of pain shot through her arm and tears pricked her eyes. She read the final sentence.
To begin a ritual, is to make a pact, whether willingly or not. And if that pact is left unfulfilled, the magic will claim what it is owed. More often than not, that price is the life of the one bound to it.
The book slipped from her grasp, thudding against the floor. In an instant, she was out of bed, her balance wavering as the room spun violently around her. Her ears rang, her vision narrowing to a tunnel. Her arm burned and bile surged up her throat. She barely made it to the bathroom before she collapsed to the cold tile floor, her stomach convulsing violently.
"Hermione?" Theo's voice from the door made its way to her but she couldn't bring herself to respond.
Her body trembled uncontrollably, fingers digging into the porcelain of the toilet. A fresh wave of nausea hit, quickly followed by a thin trail of bright red blood that began to stream into the bowl. Her arm, yet again, reacting alongside her mind.
"Granger?" Malfoy's voice drifted by but she was too weak to acknowledge it. Her body continued to shake violently as her breath caught incessantly in her throat. "Granger, breath."
She flinched when a pair of hands found her shoulders. A quiet shushing sound past her ears as one of the hands pulled her hair to the side. The other trailed down her left arm until it reached her forearm, the fingers wrapping around the wound protectively. "It's okay, you're okay."
Hermione vomited again.
When she attempted to raise her head, the room was still spinning and Theo had joined them on the floor. He knelt beside her and gently cupped her face, placing un unfamiliar disc on her tongue. It fizzed in her mouth and tasted vaguely of orange blossom. To her relief, the nausea past. And Malfoy's grip on her arm had taken the edge of the burning sensation that pulsated through it. But her laboured breathing persisted. She leant back into Malfoy's body, her shaking frame comforted by his warmth. He held her gently and guided her back until they were both sitting on the floor. Theo remained, knelt in front of them, as though ready to catch her if she fell.
Hermione stared up at him, eyes wide with fear. "I – I'm…" she tried to speak but the words kept catching. "I'm go – going… I'm going to die."
She watched as Theo's eyes flickered behind her, meeting Malfoy's. They were filled with pity; with a sadness she'd never seen in him before. When they returned to her, he was shaking his head. "No…" Theo breathed, his voice cracking. "We won't let that happen."
It took several minutes for Hermione to calm down enough for the boys to be able to help her out of the bathroom. Malfoy guided her carefully to the plush lounge in the common space and lit the fire before sitting down next to her. Theo pulled the armchair opposite them and sat down, rubbing his hands over his face. "I don't know where to start," he admitted, sounding utterly defeated.
Hermione pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms protectively around herself. She felt awful, knowing that Theo had discovered such horrible news but waited in anxious silence for her to wake before informing her.
"I think I might," Malfoy said slowly, eyes flicking between the two. Theo gestured for him to go on and Malfoy exhaled loudly, leaning forward. "When I was in France, a good deal of my study was on brewing antidotes." Hermione and Theo nodded knowingly. "We did a lot of research on case studies – used them to help us understand why certain antidotes need to be crafted."
Malfoy paused before standing briskly and disappearing into his room. When he returned a moment later, he was flipping through a black leather notebook. "Here it is," he said as he sat back down. "In 1967 there was a baby cursed with a shard of glass imbued with an ancestral ritual."
Hermione's heart clenched. "A baby?"
Malfoy nodded. "Apparently she was the product of quite a tenuous relationship between a pureblood and Muggle-born."
"I see," Hermione said carefully.
"Her case helped to develop a potion that can balance the effects or certain dark magic rituals," he continued. Though Hermione was cautious of the fact that his tone was not overtly hopeful.
"Balance the effects?" Theo questioned.
Malfoy nodded. "We were taught that most of these types of rituals aren't curable," he explained. "The antidote merely counteracts the effects of the dark magic to prevent degeneration."
"That's better than death," Hermione observed bluntly. Theo flinched at the mention but remained quiet. "I need to look into this further," she informed Malfoy. "Do you have the details of the professor who taught you about this case?"
"Actually, we have something better than that," he replied. "The baby in the case… is Professor Brindlemore."
Hermione's eyes widened and she shot up from her seat. "I need to go and talk to her," she said, frantically looking for something appropriate to put on over her lounge clothes.
"Granger, it's 6'oclock on a Sunday morning," Malfoy said, forcing her to pause. "I'm not sure she'd appreciate the visit – let alone the discussion of the most traumatic thing that's likely ever happened to her."
Hermione's shoulders dropped upon the realisation that he was right. She needed to think this through and prepare an approach. If she were to ask Brindlemore about her past, she needed to have her story straight – notes detailing her research that could pass as impartial investigation for her optional O.W.L project.
"I'm teaching a lesson on Wednesday," she remembered. "I'll ask her about it after that."
Malfoy nodded. Theo crossed his legs, sighing deeply. "In the meantime," he started. "We need to figure out what to do with the dagger."
"Can't we just keep it locked in Granger's room?" Malfoy suggested. He turned to face Hermione, "you can sleep in my room. Theo and I can stay out here."
"Thank you," Hermione returned genuinely. "But I'm not so sure that will work." Malfoy and Theo glared at her questioningly. "The dagger is affecting whomever is within reach. If we leave it in my room, it's only a matter of time before it permeates the walls and causes one of you to react again."
"So, what do you suggest?" Malfoy asked.
"I'll take it," Theo offered before Hermione had the chance to respond. "I'll take it to the Slytherin dorms – keep it away from the two of you until we figure out our next steps."
"No," Hermione insisted firmly. "It turned you into a different person, Theo. Who know how much worse it could get. I won't let that happen. I need you."
"Well, that's better than letting it affect Draco," Theo returned. Hermione glanced at Malfoy whose eyes had turned to the floor knowing he was right.
"I think I should keep it," Hermione stated. Despite her intense and justified fear of the cursed item, she knew it was the only option.
"Absolutely not," Theo asserted.
"Granger, it's killing you," Malfoy added.
"The curse is killing me," she reminded them. "Not the presence of the dagger."
"Well, it's certainly speeding up the process," Theo mumbled frustratedly.
"I am the only one who is not being mentally affected by it," Hermione explained firmly. "The physical stuff… it's awful, yes. But I can control it," she looked at Malfoy. "You can control it."
A long silence fell over the room.
"Every morning," Theo said eventually, looking at his friend. "You heal her every morning." Draco nodded. "And if it gets worse, I'm taking it," he added insistently.
"Fine," Hermione accepted, steeling herself for the days to come.