Mirror Image

Hermione’s birthday passed with little fanfare - she spent the night with the boys in the Room of Requirement, opened presents from the family and Toma, and snuck back into the Gryffindor dorm as soon as the sun began to peek over the hills. She avoided Harry’s near-constant obsession with Draco and speculation.

Halloween passed with a feast, as was usual. Toma and Snape held particularly apt lessons in how to conjure the light charm in total darkness without a wand, a trick that students took great pleasure in. With every passing day, the castle grew lighter, both in reality and in atmosphere, and there was almost always the hazy, just-there scent of magic that was developing. Some, like the little Ravenclaw Hermione found casting advanced transfiguration charms Naturally, had familiar scents of rainwater and smoke, oranges and metal, greenery and ozone and salt. Others, like the Second Year Slytherin Toma took a liking to, had unique scents like watermelon and paint and pine and roses. It was as though the castle were alive with something beyond the students and staff - it thrummed with excitement, with vitality, with the literal flavor of life. The ghosts were brighter. The paintings were agile. The suits of armor were excited.

Ron and Harry struggled endlessly with the Natural Magic lessons, and had no scent at all.

Theo’s birthday passed in much the same way as Hermione’s did - he spent the evening after classes in the Room of Requirement, opening gifts and then falling asleep beside his fiances.

Christmas brought with it a chance to see the Manor again, and Hermione finally got her wish of a Manor holiday. News had spread through the Weasleys that Hermione was a functional orphan, but she was 17 now and even if the Ministry cared, they couldn’t place her in state’s custody anymore. And Molly was uncertain of how to convince her to spend the holiday at the Burrow when she apparently had a family of sympathetic cousins and aunts and uncles to spend the holiday with.

The Manor was dressed in classic reds and golds, great swaths of garland up and down the stairwells and across every doorway. The tree was wrapped in gold ribbons, red baubles, and all around the lights were golden sparkles that jumped up and around whenever you walked by. It was something out of a catalog, and everything Hermione was dreaming it would be. Just like the photos Draco and Theo had taken for her in years past.

Christmas also brought plenty of opportunity for Hermione and Toma to discuss. The reintroduction of Natural Magic to Hogwarts was going swimmingly, and social response had been good. With a few exceptions - namely the Weasleys, other Order families, and one very bull-headed Harry Potter - the vast majority of Hermione’s classmates had expressed excitement at being taught new, untamed magic. Theo had it on good authority that most families were sharing their own Natural talents at home. Apparently there were specific talents usually passed through generations and generations, but they had been dying slowly without strong cores. The Woods, for instance, were utterly beside themselves when Oliver’s younger sister had returned from the castle and promptly, accidentally sent a tree branch flying through the air. A broom-maker’s daughter imbued with the Natural ability for it.

For every bit of their plan going well, there was one impossible roadblock. Draco’s newest assignment from the Death Eaters.

The Death Eaters, now headed by one Antonin Dolohov, were not to be underestimated. In the Dark Lord’s physical absence, Dolohov was making plays for power on his own, seemingly to catch the Dark Lord’s thankful eye, and had orchestrated the attack on the Ministry in an attempt to get his hands on the newest prophecy. He’d made the attack on Diagon Alley brutal and unforgiving, an attempt to show the Dark Lord his devotion. And he’d assigned Draco an impossible task of killing Dumbledore.

“Severus is duty bound to protect me,” Draco explained. “Mother forced him to make an Unbreakable Vow when he agreed to be my Godfather, he cannot allow any hard to come to me. That includes damage to my soul if I kill another.”

Toma hummed. “We need to find a way to both accomplish your mission, and to spare your soul so as to keep Severus alive. I can't afford to lose you, and I won't kill Severus.”

“Dumbledore?” Hermione suggested. “His hand. Is it possible the curse kills him before Draco needs to do it?”

Toma shook his head. “It’s contained. The magical signature is held back.”

“Is there a way to un-contain it?” Theo asked.

“I don’t know until I know what they did to contain it,” Toma said.

Draco cleared his throat. “Severus was the one to contain it. He’ll know more about it.”

“Can you ask him about it without raising suspicion?” Toma asked, and Draco shrugged.

“My Godfather has known me my entire life, and in all that time, I’ve only ever been a pain in his rump. I’ll ask, and he’ll likely think nothing of it.”

“We should consider taking some of the Death Eater’s temperature,” Theo said. “With the resurgence in Natural Magic and tradition, some of the older guard may be shifting their own loyalties. Most of them who weren’t thrown in jail had kids, some of them are distrustful of Dolohov. There may be more of them willing to leave the cause than we know.”

“Same thing with the Order,” Hermione said. “I’ve heard some families are skipping meetings. People feel safer with Natural Magic on the rise, and they don’t feel as beholden to Dumbledore.”

Draco hummed. “It’s a double-edged sword. Remove the moderate members of each group, you’re left with far more intense groups but with limited manpower. Do with that what you will.”

“I have something unrelated,” Hermione interrupted. “Slughorn. I’ve been invited to his little club.”

“What?” Theo demanded. “No fair! Where is my invitation?”

“The real question is where Toma’s invitation is,” Hermione said.

But Toma only shook his head. “No. I’m a half-blood with no remarkable power or prestige in London. He doesn’t see me as the boy Dumbledore took in. He doesn’t want me, not nearly as much as he wants Harry Potter’s mudblooded friend who will likely be named one of the strongest witches of her time.”

“Harry was invited.”

“Because he wants Potter’s power and prestige. And, I am sure, Dumbledore thinks Slughorn will have information on me.”

Hermione shrugged. “I have yet to accept the position. Should I start attending the Slug Club?”

Toma nodded, and Theo stretched, and Draco grabbed for Hermione’s hand. It was as good as a dismissal they were going to get from one another - Hermione and Toma were past their habitual way they used to tell one another “we’re done here” and Draco and Theo never really felt the need to begin with. But now, while they were trusting and talking to one another, the unspoken dismissals were just as good.

“We’re off,” Draco announced. “Behave, both of you. See you for dinner.”

Hermione was tugged forward, out of her chair and out of the room, before she could catch her breath. Draco pulled her across the hall, down the stairs, and into his father’s study. It was a strange and unusual day they were in the study without Lucius there, but Draco could only hide things from Theo in a few places. He pulled a manilla envelope from Lucius’ desk and handed it over to Hermione.

“What’s this?”

“Theodore’s ring,” Draco said. “I know we were supposed to design it together, but I wanted to give him an heirloom. He can’t wear any of his family’s jewels because they’re all charmed against him.”

“What?” Hermione said, alarmed at that casual declaration.

Draco looked at her, and in an instant, realized that Hermione didn’t know Theo’s family like Draco did. He hummed for a minute, pausing before he shook his head.

“Thoros couldn’t risk Theodore having any money on his own, or any connection to his mother’s vaults. Any and all jewels held by the House of Nott are charmed against his magical signature. It was the only way to keep Theo under control - without money, Theo can't get away.” Draco flipped open the folder in his hand. “This is the ring my Grandfather wore. Maternal, I mean, and he gave it to my mother for me when I was first born. He died after that, but anyways.”

Draco passed over the folder. It was an old ring, clear from the design, with a deep jewel in the center. It was carved along the sides, ivy leaves and swirls, and the bright enamel in the engraving picked up the soft red of the stone.

“This was Cissa’s father’s?” Hermione asked. “It’s gorgeous.”

“The Black’s weren’t all terrible,” Draco said earnestly. “And they liked to make stones imbued with magic. This one was his own creation, made to keep his family safe. It’s nearly a hundred years old now.”

“Unchanged?”

“I added the ivy engraving,” Draco admitted. “I thought Theo would like it, and the red picks up on the gold in his eyes.”

“I love it.” Hermione gave him a smile, bright and loving.

“You’re not mad about not being involved?”

“Not at all,” Hermione assured him. “You’re right, he needs something old like this, to remind him that he is a part of a noble family. He deserves it.”

“I thought he’d appreciate something made to protect family, too.”

Hermione hadn’t thought of that part of it, but Draco was right. Theodore would want to have an heirloom, but more than that, he would want something that was made with pure and good intentions. Where he’d been raised to see family as a source of pain and destruction, the ring would be a reminder of good, loving families who wanted to save each other.

“The stone is made? By magic?”

Draco nodded. “It’s a rare talent, but some wizards can create jewels with their magic. It’s a little bit like the sorcerer’s stone, but smaller and less catastrophic. My grandfather’s stone won’t grant anyone a never-ending life, and it won’t protect you from a killing curse. But it will keep you safe from things like hexes and general malice. The process of actually turning that kind of magic into a stone is poorly understood, and hardly any literature exists about it, but I thought-”

“It’s incredible,” Hermione breathed. “It’s perfect.”

Draco slumped, clearly scared that Hermione would have been mad. He relaxed with a big exhale, and then gave Hermione a smile.

“What are you getting him for the holiday?”

Hermione shook her head. Truthfully, this year Theo’s gift had been difficult for her. Draco was easier - a thick pair of dragon’s hide gloves and an enchanted lamp that would flicker whenever Hermione or Theo turned off their own lamps. Toma had been easiest of all in a surprising turn of events, earning himself a stack of books regarding topics from Muggle politics to Goblin runic wards.

But Theo was difficult this year. Hermione just couldn’t seem to find something that screamed out as Theo’s perfect gift.

“I thought about a pet,” she said finally. “He told me he never had a pet growing up, and you and I have been sharing Crooks and Hermes lately. Even Toma had a pet growing up. But Theo never even got something when he went to Hogwarts.”

Draco’s face lit up. “That’s perfection, Mya!”

Hermione nodded, a smile pulling at her lips. “What would be best do you think? Not an owl, right?”

“Something to cuddle,” Draco agreed. “But we can’t risk another cat in case Crookshanks doesn’t get along with him.”

“A dog? Would they let a dog in the castle?” 

Draco shook his head. “No, they don’t let anything that high-energy into the castle.”

“No, they only allow wizards who are that high energy,” Hermione snorted. “I’d say something like a rat or mouse because they’re as sneaky as Theo can be, but I can’t stand rodents.”

“Finding a nosey little thing to keep-”

Draco stopped short, his eyes lighting up.

“Come on, let’s go. I know what we have to get him.”

~~~

Hermione finished the last of the wrapping she needed to do just as it started to get dark the night before Christmas proper. They were all cased in gold and silver and red, with green ribbons or bows, and Hermione felt decently satisfied her packages would look nice under the tree beside Narcissa’s perfect ones and Draco and Theo’s messier, but genuine, attempts.

There was a knock at the door.

Hermione wrapped her robe around her tighter and opened it, fully expecting one of the boys to be collecting her for bed, but it was Toma.

“Good evening,” she greeted, then stepped aside. “Come in.”

“You were restless,” Toma said without preamble.

Hermione tried to think back to what she’d been thinking about while wrapping, but for the life of her she didn’t know what she’d been thinking about. “I’m not sure why,” she settled on.

Toma just shrugged. “It wasn’t something you did consciously. I sometimes get little flashes of what you’re thinking and feeling.”

“That’s intimidating,” Hermione said with a smile. “What was I thinking and feeling just now?”

Toma waved his hand as he flopped down in one of the armchairs Hermione kept by her fireplace. “The past doesn’t matter. What are you thinking and feeling now?”

It was as if she’d just discovered something forgotten long ago, like she’d been cleaning papers off her desk only to reveal something she’d thought she’d lost. It was a thought she’d had before, when Toma first came to Hogwarts, and a thought she returned to frequently.

“What did the Sorting Hat say to you?”

Toma looked at her, his face slack. For a moment, Hermione wondered what the hell was wrong with her to ask him such a personal question. She’d been tight-lipped about her own sorting - the Hat had debated on her worth and value as a student and as a friend - and even after she’d fallen into Gryffindor, she’d been embarrassed about the Hat’s read of her.

“It recognized me,” Toma confessed after a while. “The Hat remembers every head it reads. It said my ambition and cunning had not changed in 60 years. My wit was stronger now, as was my desire to learn.”

“Nothing about loyalty?” Hermione teased. “Nothing about being a ‘Puff?”

Toma laughed. “No, no. But then the Hat went quiet.”

His eyes were fixed on something in the distance, something far beyond the walls. Unfocused. Remembering something else all together.

“There was one thing. The Hat said I was changed in one way.”

Hermione smiled.

“It was bravery. The Hat said that more than anything else, more than my ambition and brain, it was bravery it could sense. There was no other House for me but Gryffindor.”

Bravery was unexpected. “Bravery?”

“The Hat said-” Toma stopped short, uncertain or maybe just unwilling to share. And then- “The Hat said there is nothing braver than changing your life when the opportunity appears.”

~~~

“That’s for Hermione,” Draco said as his father picked up the green and gold package. Hermione took it gently and tore open the paper - it was a leather book. An old book, first edition and as she pulled it open, she didn’t have to see the title to know what it was. Pride and Prejudice, one of her favorite books of all time.

“Oh, Draco,” Hermione whispered, fingers tracing over the ink on the page. “Thank you.”

She leaned over to kiss him, and Toma made a show of gagging goodnaturedly.

“And this one?” Lucius held up a large box wrapped in silver. There was a knowing twinkle in his eye, and both Hermione and Draco lit up.

“For Theodore!” they cheered. Theo blushed and grabbed for the package, letting out a little oof as he took on the full weight of it.

He pulled open the paper and then froze. It was an empty cage, what looked like a bird cage but without a perch. Instead, there were ladders and a sling, and a little bowl near the bottom. “What is this?”

“That’s just for the train,” Draco said, waving his hand. “So you can pack properly.”

“What?” Theo tilted the cage. “This is for Hermes, right? Why did you give me a cage for your bird?”

“Goodness, no,” Hermione said. “Poor Hermes doesn’t like those sling thingies.”

“I’m confused!” Theo cried. “Just tell me what this is!”

Draco and Hermione exchanged looks. “Has he earned it?” Draco teased.

“Oh, I suppose,” Hermione said with a smile. She got up, kicking her feet into her slippers and then leaving the room. Theo looked back at Draco, lost for words and clues, and everyone waited with bated breath.

Hermione returned, her hands held behind her back. Draco got up and threw his own hands over Theo’s eyes, “No peeking!”

Theo held out his hands, even as Draco kept him blinded. “Okay. I’m ready.”
Something small and furry and soft was put in his hand. It squirmed, a wet nose rubbing against his palm. Theo jumped, his eyes flung open as fast as Draco’s hands flew away from his face.

“Is this a niffler?” Theo cried. “How the hell did the two of you get your hands on a niffler?”

Draco beamed. “Hermione wanted you to have a little pet,” he explained. “I didn’t do anything.”

“He found her,” Hermione said. “Well, he found the breeder. I picked her.”

“Does she have a name?” Theo stroked a finger down the little niffler’s nose, gentle and loving. She was so small, just a baby, and probably the runt of the litter. She was dark, like a puddle of ink, with a pale nose and little hands. Dark, chocolate eyes. She was perfect.

“Not yet,” Hermione confessed. “That’s up to you.”

Theodore looked up at Hermione with awe in his face. “Freja,” he whispered, pressing his cheek against the niffler’s head. “She’s my little Freja.”