Chapter 6 Her Malfoy problem. How many times could a heart
break before it could never love again?
Before it was irreparably broken?
Hermione had wept for what could have been hours, and Kipp had
given her some privacy, only interrupting once to provide a
sandwich and ask that Hermione call for her when she was done
with her reading and ready for Kipp's second Grand Tour of the
Manor. In her heart, she had already
known that Ron was gone, could feel it somewhere, like opening
a sock drawer in her mind and finding nothing but lint and owl
feathers. This had happened in my timeline
too, and I'd erased it. She'd now lost her two best
friends, the boys she'd helped with homework in hopes they'd
keep her around, the young men she'd trailed the length of
Britain with to take down the darkest wizard in history.
She felt the echo of Ron's last kiss on her lips, shared in
haste and charged emotions when he'd warned them they needed to
get the Hogwarts house cells to safety.
She wondered if he had regretted it too.
They hadn't shared any other romantic moments the whole week
following the battle. Thinking back, it felt, at least
to her, like they'd both come to some silent agreement that with
Harry gone, they needed to prioritize their friendship over
anything else. Ron, Ginny, and the Weasleys
were all she had. Her parents would be living
completely new lives as Wendell and Monica Wilkins in Australia.
By now, they were young enough to even consider having another
child. She'd even encourage the notion
in their memory charm. They wouldn't need to be alone.
If Hermione and Ron had gotten serious and it didn't work out,
she'd have nothing. Even Ginny would be forced to
choose sides. But Ron was dead, and so that
concern died with him. Why was this memory stolen from
her? Why did she have to grieve
twice? She looked around at her
surroundings and ran fingers over her scalp, through her
mane. What had she gotten herself
into? Confined in the home of a
killer, a Death Eater, and looking to the most recent
Prophet Voldemort's right hand man.
Dark commander of the Magic is my regime, and she was meant to
become his murderer by Halloween.
She had three months to plan the means and the opportunity.
She just had to maintain her motive.
The next right thing. Kip guided her through the
accessible parts of the Manor. A dark billiards room.
An impressive, if a little grandiose trophy room, a
tranquil inner courtyard with magical plants and botricles
clicking merrily at one another, a library pulsing with threads
of magic that Hermione could almost taste were among the
highlights. The house house quickly glossed
over the out of bounds areas including Draco Inosis's private
wings, Malfoy's private study, potions lab, and of course the
under construction areas of the Manor.
Hermione paid special notice to them.
She loved a restricted section. They were in the greenhouse,
Hermione sampling a home grown strawberry, when the familiar
self important stepping cadence of Draco Malfoy announced his
arrival. I heard Gregor receive a chest
of your personal items and garments from your previous
handlers since you decided not to pack any of your own when you
arrived to stay. Draco started with no preamble,
the male elf by his side easily his favorite, quiet and discreet
unlike his progeny. He watched her frown at him,
lips stained with a fruity Rouge.
Draco chewed against that very lip in the back room of his
mind. This back and forth channel is
now closed. No one is getting into or out of
the Manor beyond its current occupants.
He paused at her expression, as was so agreed once more.
She gave him that very same look as when she'd first come to him
for information at the start of their arrangement.
She looked at him like he was a Riddle she was struggling to
solve. Draco had almost gotten used to
her looking at him more like a human, like someone she could
potentially trust. But for some reason, that was
gone now. Don't worry, I've checked it for
hidden curses and cloaked messages.
You're mine now. To protect.
Remember Grainger? How gracious of you.
She huffed, though looking at the state of the chest.
He eyed the tatty box decorated in Gryffindor emblems and frayed
static muggle photos of a young brunette family that peeled at
the edges. I'd hazard a guess that the
contents aren't going to inspire much meow.
Hermione's eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning.
Her face opened, the rays of sun through the greenhouse glass
magnifying the sparkle in her eyes.
She was alive in all the ways he wished he could be, too.
Ah yes, they had your feral vampire cat hitch a ride too,
Cruickshanks. She wailed, almost knocking
Draco to the side as she lunged at the orange beast.
They were glad to get rid of the thing, according to Gregor.
Apparently he's been yawning up a storm since you've disappeared
on them this morning. Hermione wasn't paying attention
to him in the slightest. Draco, exasperated, stared for a
moment at the scene quizzically. Hermione rolling on his
greenhouse floor, her eyes welling up, one insistent tear
streaking down her neck and into her chocolate hair.
Salazar's just a cat, and she's only left it this morning.
He watched the way she nuzzled the creature with Glee and his
throat seized up as he swallowed down some intrusive,
unidentified feeling. Right, I'll leave you to to it,
shall I? My mother will be expecting you
for dinner at 8. He said to thin air before
vacating the greenhouse. Leaving the girl and her
overgrown cat to roll about the lone dusted floor.
Hermione washed herself off in the shower, the low summer sun
casting an orange glow across her skin.
Crooks had dutifully followed her into the en suite, her own
private guardian, and sat on the shower edge, pouring at stray
water droplets. Move over, Malfoy, there's a new
cat in town. She didn't know how long it had
been since she'd snuggled his rough fur, but it felt like
forever. Wrapping herself in the softest
bathrobe of her life in a rich velvet green, she flopped down
on the bed. Dinner with the mouth voice.
Oh joy. As if on cue, there was a light
tap on the door and Narcissa peeked her head in.
I'm just checking you have everything you need.
She inquired. I, yes, I think so, thank you
Missus Narcissa. Hermione replied, holding her
robe closed at her chest. And Kip tells me you won't be
getting lost around the Manor's many corridors this time.
She's provided an excellent Grand Tour.
Hermione responded. And no, I think I've managed to
get my bearings now. I'm pleased to hear it.
It would be nice to have you back to yourself.
Hermione read into Narcissa's wary expression.
I hope you found what you needed in the study.
I know it can be hard revisiting the losses.
Hermione looked down with a reticent nod.
And just as a reminder, we do dress for dinner.
She glanced quickly at Hermione's old trunk.
If you're in need, you're welcome to anything in the
wardrobes. And if you require additional
help, just call for Greta. She has an impeccable sense of
style. Nosissa smiled and began to
close the door behind her. Nosissa.
Hermione called out. I'm sorry to you too.
It can't have been easy losing your life partner.
It was his time. Narcissa stated, her eyes
darkening. Hermione's brow creased at the
response. The door clicked shut and
Narcissa's footsteps trailed away.
Rolling off the bed onto the floor, she unclasped her case
and noted Jinny's signature packing style of throw it in and
sort it out later. Her clothes bundled in knots,
she pulled everything out, making a note to hang them up
later. She couldn't have Malfoy
sneering at her for creases along with choice of attire.
He would be insufferable. At the bottom of the case lay 3
Tomes, a book she'd been reading at Shell Cottage, no bookmark
indicating she must have finished it.
The secrets of the darkest art, and to her absolute horror, 12
fail safe ways to charm Wizards. What the actual fuck?
Why would Jinny think she needed this?
Setting aside the books under her bedside table, she ran her
hands along the inner fabric, lining her fingers meeting the
jagged edge of torn paper, and she reached into the concealed
pocket, pulling out a folded piece of parchment.
Malfoy had done a pretty poor job of checking her luggage,
though. He could have easily read this
and placed it back in the hidden pocket.
In fact, she decided he totally would have.
He just didn't tell me that he had.
What is that prick up to? She unfolded the parchment and
read. Dear Hermione, since you
disappeared rather rudely this morning without the good luck
breakfast feast and his goodbye, we can only assume you left
early to avoid the emotions. Can't blame you really, we sent
Crookschance along with your trunk of the items.
If there's something missing then that's on you.
Since this could be our last ever correspondence.
I won't beat around the Bush. I'm letting you know in writing
how mad I am at you. First for leaving me without a
word and 2nd for doing this in the 1st place.
I know, I know. Reducing casualties, safer
closing communication lines. You and Malfoy have a research
plan, I just wish that you could have let us in on it a little.
You three never learn, we could have helped you.
Kingsley wanted to say thank you for your service.
Mcgonigal says be careful mum. Well you know mum, she hasn't
said a lot since Ron. The boys, well I really
shouldn't repeat but you get the gist.
Give em hell Hermione, you're not like a sister to me.
You are my sister. I hope you know what you're
doing and you make it back to us.
Otherwise I will never ever forgive you.
Do you hear me? Potter Watch will be starting up
again this Friday at 7:00 PM. The boys are still arguing about
the title. The first password will be
golden. We'll be scouring the Prophet
for any mentions of you. Don't do anything reckless.
I will send a howler and blow your cover.
Your sister forever. Ginny PSI threw in a book to
help you with your Malfoy problem.
If, as you say, he's on our side, you're going to need all
the help you can get keeping him on it.
Oh. Ginny was displeased, and
rightly so. When Hermione entered this
timeline, her existing counterpart must have
disappeared. Not typical for time travel at
all. And she would know, having spent
most of her third year hopping to hours earlier just to get
extra classes in. She avoided dissecting the
morality of her actions and instead took to rereading the
letter focusing on the postscript.
Her Malfoy problem? Wasn't Malfoy always a problem?
Why did Ginny think a book on charming Wizards was going to be
of any help? If, as you say, he's on our
side, you're going to need all the help you can get keeping him
on it. As Hermione stared at that line,
attempting to decipher Jinny's intention, her vision began to
blur. White light blinded her again,
thrusting her into a back room. In her mind, the small metal
vault on the central podium. It creaked open, allowing 13
more words to escape before shutting tight, closed with a
clunk. The words, filigreed and
elegant, arranged themselves in her mind's eye.
The orders information cannot be trusted.
Follow only the doctrines. Her consciousness returned to
the bedroom suite, unease creating a nauseating flicker in
her lower stomach. The ceasefire would not reduce
casualties. The communication lines were not
safe, their research plan would fail, and Draco Malfoy was not
on their side. Hermione had one task.
Shadow Malfoy and end him. Maybe Jinny's book would come in
handy after all. By the time Hermione had dried
her hair and failed the battle to style it, deciding to tie it
back in a loose Dutch braid, it was already close to dinner
time. She opened the wardrobe, knowing
there was little point in choosing from her Mughal
selection. In the end, she picked out a
simple Navy sleeveless dress, but as she plucked it out of the
wardrobe from its black velvet hanger, A2 piece set caught her
eye. Hermione turned to the Ottoman
at the end of the bed, where the pleated skirt and blouse she'd
been wearing today still lay folded, and look back to the
hanging set in the wardrobe. It's the same outfit.
She confirmed, dread mingling with intrigue.
Hermione's desolate future involved the Malfoys, at least
to the point of sharing clothes with the Lady of the House.
She'd gone as far as possible to escape them and had ended up in
the same snake pit.