The Angry Letter and the Anticipatory Anxiety
“I’m sorry?” Hermione squeaked.
Narcissa’s wide eyes returned to Theo, who stood frozen.
“You knew my mother,” Theo breathed. “I forgot …”
“She’s your sister …!” Narcissa gasped. “But Isabelle wouldn’t’ve hidden– unless she’s the eldest …!”
On the other sofa, Harry and Ron exchanged worried looks. Harry gripped his wand and wondered if he should Stun Narcissa, then perhaps Sirius could perform a Memory Charm–
“Is THAT why you wish to marry Draco?” Narcissa whispered. “You’re the heir? And Thoros …? He must not know–”
Theo leapt protectively closer to his twin; all remnants of earlier teasing forgotten.
“He won’t find her,” Theo practically growled, his hand tight on Hermione’s shoulder. “Narcissa, please–”
“Theodore, you know the consequences–”
“I don’t CARE!” his voice rose but his legs gave out and he found himself kneeling beside the sofa, facing Narcissa with a desperate plea in his eyes. “I don’t care what’ll happen! Please, let her marry Draco! She’ll be safe from Father, and I don’t care what he tries to do to me–!”
Hermione grabbed her brother’s arm.
“Theo, you said he found revenge pointless! He– is he going to go after you–?!”
“He– he’ll want to punish me for not bringing you to him, but he won’t kill me,” Theo tried to reassure Hermione as she bit her lip hard. “He needs me alive to be the proper heir. I can handle him, alright? Besides, we’re going straight to Hogwarts – Father won’t just storm in and attack us in a location where we have more allies! You WILL be safe, I swear!”
Across the room, Harry hadn’t taken his hand off his wand as he watched Narcissa’s reaction carefully. She seemed admittedly shocked by the revelation, but Harry didn’t know if her loyalty to pure-blood tradition would win out over her obvious fondness for Theo.
“Theodore,” Narcissa placed a hand on his shoulder, and he turned towards her carefully.
“Lucius can’t know.” he begged. “It’ll be dangerous for everyone–”
“If you wish,” she answered softly. “Regardless of her lineage, you know Lucius will protect her after the wedding. But what about you, Theodore? Your father … if you allow this to happen, you will have ended the line. He will not blame her, given that he wouldn’t expect her to know better; he will blame you, especially if you knowingly hand her to Draco.”
Hermione’s grip on Theo’s arm tightened.
“No,” she hissed. “You idiot, Theo, why didn’t you tell me–!”
“Because it’s my job to protect YOU!” he cried. “I don’t care about those stupid old traditions either, Hermione, I only care about the one that says you protect your family at all costs!”
“But Thoros reads it as protecting the family line–”
“And HE’S wrong,” Theo insisted. “That’s why you’re my family, and he’s not. I can’t … he said to me that sacrifices were– were necessary to protect the family, and– and he’s WRONG!”
Theo’s breathing became uneven and Narcissa surprised the room by bending toward the tall teen and pulling him into her arms tightly.
A tear trickled down Hermione’s cheek and that was enough for Harry. He crossed the room quickly and bent next to her to grasp her hand, Ron right behind him.
Full of frustration and anger, Hermione clung to Harry and briefly met Narcissa’s eyes over Theo’s shoulder. Her eyes were grey like Draco’s, but more mysterious. She couldn’t guess what Narcissa was thinking.
The elder witch slipped a hand into her pocket. Ron’s fingers twitched towards his wand, but Narcissa simply withdrew a handkerchief which she pressed into Theo’s hand. She looked carefully at Hermione and her friends.
“I wish this was not necessary,” she murmured. “I see how much Theodore cares for you, as these gentlemen do. However, I did not see the same care when you stood with Draco moments ago. He did not fool me; I know he does not desire her as much as he intended us to believe.”
Theo opened his mouth, but Narcissa’s pale finger went to his lips before he managed to speak.
“If Draco knows the truth and is amenable to this arrangement, I shall not say a word, as long as he is safe and content. But …” she frowned a little at Theo. “The sacrifice, Theodore … you know how Thoros will feel about ending the family line–”
“It’s not a sacrifice,” he whispered. “I don’t care what he thinks … losing HER would be the sacrifice.”
“But you’re NOT going to be in danger,” Hermione jumped in, fiercely. “You’re my brother, so I get to protect you, too! If he tries to come near you …”
“We’ll ALL stand in his way.” Harry reassured her. Behind him, Ron nodded.
Narcissa’s dark eyes softened at them.
“I never believed that horrid Dark Mark would keep my family safe,” she said quietly. “I’m far happier placing my faith in your Order, especially if they possess the same loyalty as your generation.”
Later, Ron would remark to Harry his surprise at how many Slytherins were turning out to be tolerable people, which gave Harry a good excuse to practice a mild curse that made Ron taste nothing but salt for twelve hours.
Maybe one day he’d tell his best mate that he was nearly a Slytherin.
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When the rest of the Order entered Headquarters for the meeting that evening, they were accompanied by an owl who had seemingly waited awhile for an open door.
The owl wasn’t familiar, but the handwriting on the envelope was unmistakeable. Theo shoved it into his robes as fast as possible, grateful that nobody noticed. They were too busy quieting portraits that had awoken when Tonks knocked over the troll’s leg umbrella stand yet again.
Draco was eating in seclusion with his parents and Hermione was busy answering all of Molly and Ginny’s questions and concerns about the wedding, so Theo was able to skip the dinner table early.
He shut himself in Regulus’ old bedroom and quickly unfolded the letter.
As he read, he felt his heart race faster and faster.
… should you fail at your task, intentionally or not, I will take the only remaining action available and absorb whatever consequences may befall, for the good of our blood …
A few minutes later the parchment’s Anti-Ripping Charm was stretched near to capacity as Theo gripped it while clenching his teeth in fury.
He’d known that Thoros would object to Hermione’s very existence, but THIS …
Any lingering doubt or guilt he had about Hermione marrying Draco quickly disappeared. Even if it wasn’t what his sister wanted, the wedding couldn’t come fast enough.
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Hermione barely slept that night.
The Weasleys were staying at Grimmauld for the wedding. Molly had clung to Hermione for several long minutes murmuring reassurances in her ear, mainly that Hermione would remain a part of their family no matter what.
The wedding dress Ginny had picked out was lovely, but it hung in their shared room like an ominous shadow Hermione couldn’t escape. She tossed and turned all night, clinging to the Grangers’ heirloom necklace in one hand.
Finally, she gave up trying to sleep and began digging through the Pure-Blood Path yet again, perhaps searching for some hidden rule that said she couldn’t marry Malfoy. Ginny had thrown harsh glances at the volume, unsurprisingly, claiming Molly had burned her copy after marrying Arthur.
“Talking with respect is fine and protecting your family is great, but we’re much happier being blood traitors than following all those other stupid rules. It’s worth it even with Aunt Muriel breathing down our necks a few times a year. D’you know, once she tried to dress me in thick woollen robes so that my bare wrists didn’t show? Seriously! I was SEVEN … but how dare I tempt vulnerable wizards with my intoxicating naked skin … You should’ve seen the hex Bill put on her – but even Mum never realised it was him; pretty sure Muriel just blamed the twins …”
Molly and Theo joined forces to make sure Hermione ate breakfast the next morning. When her plate was mostly clean, Draco carefully approached her.
“May I have a few moments of your time?”
“Oh … alright, then.”
“You two can use the drawing room,” Theo said firmly.
“Of course,” Draco agreed with a tiny roll of the eyes. “No bedrooms and no rooms with lockable doors. I know the rules.”
Hermione’s stomach lurched but she followed Draco out of the kitchen, listening to Fred and George tease Ron for the worried look he’d apparently sent after her. When the redheaded twins arrived last night, they’d put on a thoroughly dramatic performance. First there were gleeful, bouncy reactions in response to “having another set of twins in the family – just think of the pranking opportunities!” and then there were distraught, horrified reactions in response to “losing our beloved resident bookworm to the likes of a pale ferret!”
The latter was complete with falling to knees, clutching of hearts, and clinging to Hermione’s hands tearfully as though she’d been given a terminal diagnosis. Malfoy’s wrinkled nose in response to the performance nearly made the whole ordeal worthwhile.
Now he led Hermione politely to a sofa in the drawing room and, to her relief, sat next to her with an appropriate “three palm-widths” of distance between them.
He spoke in a softer voice than she was expecting:
“I want to make sure you’re not having second thoughts, nor that you’re retaining any other concerns about today.”
Hermione blinked.
“Well … second thoughts would be of no benefit to me right now. I admit I’m a bit concerned that your mother knows the truth …”
“Yes, Theo told me … I might’ve guessed. Mother’s one of the most observant people on the planet. Even if she didn’t know Isabelle, I should’ve expected her to notice your resemblance to Theo.
“I don’t think we need to worry though, since she’s intending to stay with Sirius – or maybe Andromeda, if she’ll have her – and she won’t be in mixed company. Father will spread the story that Mother is sick; she’ll be able to stay out of the public eye for a while.”
“And … would she tell your father?” Hermione asked worriedly. Draco shook his head.
“She won’t, and Father won’t notice the resemblance. He just looks at you and sees a Mudblood, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Fabulous,” she grumbled. “After all, every girl hopes for a sentimental pet name from her father-in-law–”
Draco chuckled and reached for one of her curls.
“You shouldn’t judge, my little witch. YOUR father is a cold-blooded killer, after all.”
Hermione inched away from him with a scowl, partially at him and partially at the reminder of her father.
“Stop calling me yours. This is just a stupid marriage of convenience–”
He scowled back and scooted closer, pinning her against the arm of the sofa, ignoring the rules he’d been following until now.
“You know better than that, little swot. I know you finished the Pure-Blood Path–”
“UGH that thing–!”
“–and you know where our loyalties lie once we’re wed!”
“So what?!” she threw her arms up. “This isn’t REAL, Malfoy, this is just a way for me to go back to school without getting killed, and for you to keep your mother safe–”
“That’s Hippogriff dung,” he countered angrily. “This is as REAL as it gets, Granger! You can’t do this twice! You’ll have to stop denying it because in a few short hours you’ll be MINE–”
Hermione’s patience disappeared.
She shoved his arm out of the way and stomped for the door, wishing she hadn’t already surrendered her wand to Ginny.
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After spending a few hours alone on the roof, fuming, Hermione decided Malfoy probably didn’t know or didn’t care where Harry and Ron’s room was, so it should be safe.
She knocked quickly and entered to find them on Ron’s bed engaged in a game of chess. Hermione guessed they’d been partway through dressing for the wedding before being distracted; Ron wore a faded T-shirt over freshly-pressed trousers and Harry wore a half-buttoned Oxford that had likely been borrowed from George.
Harry raised an eyebrow when Hermione locked the door behind her with a firm click.
“Hiding from Malfoy?”
“UGH,” was Hermione’s response as she fell backwards onto Harry’s bed, pulling her hair in frustration. “He is the most irritating, misogynistic, STUBBORN little ferret–!”
Ron chuckled at her. “I’m totally with you, but I’ll admit he’s still a better choice than Flint.”
“I’m not so sure,” Hermione grumbled. She might’ve been able to gain the upper hand in a relationship with Flint, given that he couldn’t outsmart her. Unfortunately, Malfoy was intelligent enough to know exactly how to push her buttons.
Harry studied his friend carefully while Ron’s bishop tackled his queen to the board. Not for the first time, he wondered if he should share his Animagus book with Hermione – if she learned, perhaps she could use her animal form to escape Malfoy sometimes.
“Is he still pushing that pure-blood book on you?”
“I’ve finished reading it,” Hermione mumbled. “It’s not ALL bad but Malfoy wants me to admit that I’m going to belong to him once we’re married. Like I’m his property or something.”
Ron furrowed his brow.
“Isn’t that just legal terminology, though? Like the way your guardian owns you?”
“Officially, yes, but I think Malfoy sees it as MORE. Like as soon as we’re married, I suddenly morph into his most beloved treasured possession, or his– his trophy …”
Hermione’s voice drifted off, then she suddenly sat up straight.
“What?” Harry asked in concern.
She looked quietly at the chess board for a moment.
“What if … what if Malfoy’s trying to convert me? Switch my loyalty from Harry to HIM?”
Ron looked worried but Harry rolled his eyes.
“Oh dear,” he teased. “Should I dye my hair platinum blond and grow my nose to a point to keep you on my side, then?”
“It’s not about looks,” Hermione said, completely unfazed. “In the Pure-Blood Path, the most important rule says that family is held above all. It means you have to produce heirs and protect the line and all that rubbish, but it also means you must hold the well-being of your spouse as your highest priority.”
Harry blinked.
“You mean, if it came to a choice between helping me or him …”
“I’m obligated to protect him. To put his needs above everything else,” Hermione’s brow crinkled. “That’s not to say I WOULD do that, but it’s certainly what he’ll expect.”
Harry’s shoulders slumped.
“But that’s what we expect of them. We expect the Malfoys to protect you, even above their own political goals. That’s sorta the whole point …”
“Then, I’ll have to go along with it. I’ll have to put him first, otherwise he won’t put me first.”
Ron looked worried, then angry.
“But … what if this was his plan all along? What if that’s why he was happy when he found out he could marry you? I mean, he didn’t just steal one of Harry’s friends; he’s snagged the top mind at Hogwarts for himself!”
Harry looked thoughtful, then shook his head.
“Malfoy’s not stupid and he’s known Hermione for five years. He wouldn’t honestly expect her to drop everything and worship him just ‘cause of some rulebook …”
But Hermione caught his gaze briefly, making his emerald eyes go wide with understanding.
“… Oh.”
“If Hermione Granger is known for one thing, it’s following rules,” Ron voiced what they were all thinking. “Far as Malfoy knows, anyway …”
“Fuck,” Harry cursed. “He realised he was your only option … and he’s using the whole thing to benefit himself–”
Hermione clung tightly to Harry’s pillow. Ron looked menacing, then worried again as he studied his bushy-haired friend.
“But … you wouldn’t follow that rubbish, right?” he begged. “I mean, you DO break rules, like when we did the DA and everything–”
“Yes, of course I’m willing to break rules when something else is more important,” Hermione answered quickly. “But if Malfoy’s trying to use me against Harry … then shouldn’t I play along? Pretend to be utterly devoted to him? Then I can find out what he’s up to …”
Harry didn’t like that.
“You’re already putting on an act for everybody else,” he said firmly. “We have a WAR to fight and you’re not gonna make it if you keep stretching yourself thin trying to teach the Grey Slytherins and keep Theo a secret AND pretend to be in a real relationship with Malfoy AND spy for us …”
Hermione wasn’t so sure. If she were stuck to Malfoy’s side for the foreseeable future, wouldn’t it be better to also use it HER advantage?
“At least he’ll keep Thoros away from you, right?” insisted Harry. “Besides, you’ll just divorce him after the war before he can … well–”
“She … she might not be able to divorce him,” Ron said softly.
Hermione’s head snapped up instantly.
“WHAT?!”
Ron took a long breath while his friends gaped at him.
“It’s just … divorce isn’t super common in our world. It might happen if one of them commits a serious crime or one of them cheats, then they can hire solicitors and stuff. But without a good reason, you generally can’t get divorced.”
“But Malfoy and I don’t love each other,” Hermione said, exasperated. “Why isn’t that good enough–?”
“’Cause so many pure-bloods use arranged marriages, and plenty DON’T love each other,” Ron reminded her. “It’s not considered a legitimate excuse for divorce. I mean, if you and Malfoy both want it, you can prob’ly make it happen. But if he doesn’t wanna let you go … well, he’s richer than you. He’ll hire a better solicitor, and … you’re stuck. Unless he outright kills someone or starts abusing you – but I don’t even think Malfoy’s that horrible – you’ll have no legal way to leave him.”
Hermione sat very still with round eyes fixed on the shattered pieces of one of Harry’s pawns. She’d been relying on the notion of her ultimate escape from Malfoy …
“Hey, look, it’s not for sure,” Ron’s demeanour changed instantly at the sight of her downcast face. “Just ‘cause it’s not common doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen, and you’re the brightest witch of the age! I bet you’ll dig up some law that Malfoy’s never heard of so you can get away from him. Legal loopholes have been good for us, right?” he grinned at Hermione hopefully.
She managed to return a weak smile, but she didn’t feel any better.
Harry and Ron exchanged worried looks, and Harry decided to distract her for now.
“Anyway, Dumbledore got back this morning,” Harry told Hermione, and she perked up instantly. “I caught him up.”
“He’s alright with it all, then? He’ll let me get married?”
Harry nodded. “He was surprised but he likes our plan. He looked sorta amused when I said you’d picked Malfoy–”
“And what about you?” Hermione pressed, not wanting to talk about Malfoy more. “Dumbledore wanted your help with something?”
“He’s trying to get the old Hogwarts potions professor to come back to school, and I’m s’posed to help somehow. Dumbledore’s finally letting Snape take Defence,” he added with a roll of the eyes. “Might be good though since Snape’s in the Order and Dumbledore wants him to oversee our DA sessions.”
Ron wrinkled his nose. “Snape’s totally gonna favour the Slytherins, though–”
“But Ron, the Slytherins are the ones who need to learn,” Hermione countered. “We’ve had a bit of a leg up in Defence, and they’re the ones who need instruction about protective enchantments and defensive magic–”
“–and they’ll probably listen to Snape, yeah,” Harry finished. “Anyway, we’ll be there to make sure everyone else can learn; I reckon Snape’ll mostly focus on teaching the Slytherins and we can teach everybody else like we used to.”
Hermione looked a little worried. “What if there’s dozens more students this time, though? We were barely teaching ten per cent of the school when we had the DA …”
“Wouldn’t that be good?” Ron pointed out. “More experience, and more people with better skills–”
“But more people to supervise,” Hermione said, biting her lip. “We’ll be responsible for so many …”
“Not for everything,” Harry pointed out. “A lot of the original DA will still be around, and they can help us teach the younger students everything from last year. Even advanced stuff like Patronuses … people like Dean and Katie and Ginny can help us teach. And you can make a charmed parchment again for everyone to sign, right?”
“Alright, yes,” Hermione said, half to herself. “I’ll have to organise the spells we want to cover in terms of advancement … perhaps I can create a sort of questionnaire to determine each student’s skill level and we can create a schedule for rotating students and teachers so everyone gets a chance to learn – it might be necessary to have different age groups on different nights–”
Ron shook his head as if to clear it.
“Yeah OK, you have fun with that, Hermione. Anyway, Dumbledore say anything else about the training he’s s’posed to be giving you this year?” he asked Harry.
Harry picked at the pillow on his lap.
“He wants to teach me everything he’s learned about Voldemort’s past. Thinks it’ll help us find his weaknesses, I guess …”
“That’s brilliant,” Hermione announced. “You can’t hope to defeat an enemy you don’t understand! Besides, Voldemort has certain advantages already; he knows who your friends and allies are, and he’s got much more education and experience over you, so you’ll need other advantages–”
“What am I s’posed to learn about HIM though?” Harry asked, unsure. “I mean, I know he was a half-blood and he lived in London, then went to Hogwarts and formed the Death Eaters …”
“There must be more,” Hermione insisted. “The devil is in the details. Dumbledore taught him, and perhaps some of our other teachers did, like Flitwick – oh, the old Potions professor he’s trying to recruit could’ve been one of Riddle’s teachers; that may be why Dumbledore wants him back!”
Harry looked a little more accepting.
“So, you think someone might’ve overheard something or knows stuff about Riddle from back then that might be a weakness? Maybe there’s even someone he fell in love with …”
Ron gagged. “That’s a bloody scary thought …”
“More likely there’s a particular type of magic Riddle favoured while he was in school,” Hermione said reasonably. “For instance, if he showed particular proclivity towards Transfiguration, there’s a chance he’ll use it more regularly in a duel, which would give Harry an advantage in fighting him. Or the reverse; there may be an area of magic he struggled with.”
“Okay, yeah,” Harry agreed with a shrug. “Guess it’s better than nothing. Dumbledore wanted me to tell you guys everything we talked about. He was pretty happy that you figured out Voldemort doesn’t have friends,” he added to Hermione with a grin. “It was one of the things Dumbledore wants me to understand. He basically thinks my secret power is that I love people. Sounds weird, but …”
“But it’s the same thought I had,” Hermione said gently. “Voldemort’s fighting for himself. You’re fighting for so much more–”
“Not arguing, but HOW exactly does that help Harry?” Ron pointed out, crossing his long legs. “He can’t just wipe Voldemort out with the power of love.” He ducked the broken knight Harry chucked at him.
“It’s more than that,” Hermione asserted. “Harry has a team of people helping him, and he’s not too proud to ask for help. Voldemort wouldn’t do that; he just expects people to do what he says and there’s plenty of people only following him from fear, so there’s no guarantee they’d take the same measures to help him as our people would to help Harry.”
Her half-buttoned friend looked uncomfortable at that. Hermione reminded him, “I’m not saying people WILL die for you, Harry, but the people on our side are fighting with you because we’re willing. Even the Slytherins, honestly, they were pretty clear that they’d rather you win the war. That’s already an advantage over Voldemort because the people on our side actually CARE about what we’re fighting for.”
“I guess,” Harry grumbled. He still thought turning himself into a tiger would be more useful than relying on mere friendship to defeat Voldemort. Unfortunately, the process was proving to be harder than he’d hoped.
“Anyway Hermione, shouldn’t you be getting dressed or something?”
She checked the clock and her shoulders fell. Ugh.
Time to get married.