Vow
This likely would not end well.
Her wand was drawn in an instant, as she backed towards the stairway. The training with Mad-Eye made her slip into the soldiers’ mindset quickly. Exit. Get to the Exit. But Malfoy was faster with his long legs and covered the area before she could get far. Her mind was racing with possibilities on how to escape: incapacitate Nott and there was a chance that Malfoy would be distracted by assisting his friend. But there was also a chance that Malfoy would strike her down immediately. With Malfoy’s wand out they would duel, and she wasn’t at her full strength right now, and didn’t know how strong he was.
She had to think, and fast. Leverage. Threat. Something.
Ah.
“Put your wand down, or I’ll blow this room and us to pieces, Malfoy.” A desperate measure, but she had no idea what was going on and how severe their motives were, so she pulled the necklace out from under her shirt to show them.
It had been a genius move, she hated to admit, from Dumbledore. He had told her up front that if she was captured, she was to put herself down rather than fall into the Dark Lord’s grasp. Her power was too useful to fall into enemy hands. The little bottle that hung from the chain around her neck was keyed to her magic only, and if she sent a spark of energy from her fingertips, then the Witch Flame that was concentrated within would set fire right there, and would light her, and everything within 100 feet, up in deadly flames. The Order assigned these to their most valuable assets, but Harry didn’t get one because Dumbledore was planning for him to get captured anyway. And if Harry killed himself, then Voldemort would win.
As Theodore’s eyes widened, she got her confirmation that they knew what that was. Good. Back up. These two had sat upon their snake thrones while she had turned into nothing more than a weapon. Malfoy didn’t react, but he lowered his wand. Slightly.
Hermione took that opportunity to dart towards the window near the far side, to at least feel more in control. What did they know? How much did they know about it? Her mind was racing, but she kept her face calm and collected, just as Mad Eye had instructed her to do when faced with questioning.
A flicker of the eye, twitch of the cheek, could give anything away. You must stay still.
Those had been the worst lessons.
Nott stood, straightening his school jacket as he came to Malfoy’s side. “No need to look so alarmed, Malfoy just wanted to make sure there were parameters.” His eyes trailed down her body, taking in the coiled way she stood next to the window as if she was about to bolt.
Malfoy didn’t take his eyes off her face, and she wondered what he was reading off of it.
“What is the meaning of this?” Revenge? Good old schoolyard bullying?
Malfoy’s eyes narrowed as he flicked a piece of lint off of his suit. “Stop acting stupid, Granger. It doesn’t fit you.”
She had been lying consistently to the better part of everyone in her life, she could do it here, to two snakes who meant nothing to her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you want to torture me or bully me or whatever you sadistic Mudblood haters like to d-“
“Cut the bullshit, Granger. I know what you are. And we need your help.” Nott sat down on the armchair closer to the fireplace and gestured for the couch. Rubbing his head and letting out a sigh as if he was exhausted, he said, “So please sit down and hear us out.”
No. Nononononono. She had kept this secret so close to her heart it was wrapping wires around it. She had killed and died for this secret. Lost her friendships to it. There was no way in hell her sworn rivals knew it.
“No. I don’t know what you guys “think” I am or anything,” Her lies would only work if they knew minimal detail about her condition. With all her reading, she didn’t know of it until Severus and Dumbledore confided their information. But these were purebloods. They had private libraries the size of the Hogwarts one, with hidden volumes that couldn’t be found anywhere else.
Not to mention if the Oblivation spell didn’t work on Nott, she was truly and ultimately fucked.
“How a muggle-born came to possess the ability is the true mystery.” Her breath caught at the word. So, they knew then.
Scanning the room, she muttered a quick charm under her breath that alerted her if any presence was in the room. Stretching out her magic to cover the room, she found none besides the three of them.
She steeled herself, ready for the fight as she said, “Make an unbreakable bond that you will never speak of my condition,” Malfoy snorted at that word, “To anyone else that I do not permit you to, and I will hear whatever you have to say out. If you do not do that, I will blast us all to pieces right now. I made an Unbreakable Vow to never allow my power to be known to the masses.”
Her heart spiked as Nott immediately said, “Done.”
Whatever he wanted, it was desperate. She had seen desperate before.
He looked to Malfoy, however, as if waiting for his call. A soldier to his Captain.
Malfoy examined her, and said quietly, “Who else knows?” Assessing, he was assessing her, whatever that meant.
“Alive? One. Mad Eye.” Who knew how long that old git would live for anyway? There was a time in her life when she respected the man for what he had been through, and what he had done. Dumbledore too, but that was before they exploited her and the loyalty, she had for the people she cared about. Severus though, it was strange to say that it was him who looked out for her the most. Before they broke her, and every innocent, light-filled thing she was.
He gave her another look, something going through his eyes that she couldn’t quite make out. “Do you know how to even use your gift?” She might have called it that once. But that was before she destroyed herself for it.
“Yes.” That was all she would give him. Let him doubt her.
He fixed his cuffs, a tell of his then when he was thinking hard about something. Messing with his stupid expensive and elegant clothes. His sweater looked so soft compared to his ice-cold expression.
“Well okay then, Granger.” She didn’t celebrate. There was a feeling in the air that she couldn’t quite shake. Like this was the start of something much worse.
She moved, edging as close as she dared to them as she could. The first day of her Eighth year, and she was already too exposed. When her shoes stopped on the rich carpet, there was still a solid four feet between her and the two snakes. They towered over her, and it made her skittish.
She placed out an arm, and watched as Malfoy hesitated, then placed his hand on one side of hers, gripping her arm. The contact sent a shock through her, and she watched as his jaw clenched. She hoped he was revolted by the feeling of Mudblood skin. Hope he hated it. Nott followed suit and took her arm, and she casted the words out to the open to begin the process, using her wand to draw the magical binding around their joined arms.
Nott met her eyes, and the determination in his set her off kilter. What was their reason for ensnaring her at first chance? As the ropes made of light wrapped around each of their arms until they were bound together, and the searing pain began to etch lines through their clothes, she said, “Do you both vow to never tell another soul or being about my condition?”
“I do,” Nott said without a second in between.
Malfoy met her eyes again, and his jaw tensed again before he spat out, “I do.”
“And if you two do not comply with this vow, do you recognize the fact that you forfeit your life should you try?”
Malfoy looked at her then, and said, “Do you vow to never utter a word about this Vow or the contents we disclose to you?”
Another round of tensed I dos. Then she felt the rope grow tighter before it snuck into her skin and disappeared. The wounds from the rope, however, remained under her sleeves.
Malfoy stepped back immediately, returning to his armchair of green leather swiftly. Nott followed suit, though she noted that Malfoy didn’t put away his wand, and it rested on his thigh. She sat down tightly across from them on the couch.
“What do you want?” Formalities were time wasters, and this entire scenario didn’t want to make her try for politeness. Her darkest secret, in the hands of these two. Even the Vow didn’t deafen the anxiety. Nott gave her a quick look before he began fiddling with his tie.
Malfoy examined her again, and said coldly, “How much do you know about your own condition?”
Not enough.
Dumbledore had pulled her into his office the winter of the Sixth year, and she had assumed it was to be about Head Girl or being there for Harry or whatever thing was floating in Dumbledore’s mind at the time. Though she had respected him greatly, she had always thought he was a bit of a nutter sometimes. The way he spoke in riddles frustrated her mind, and he always seemed to withhold information that was vital in favor of letting people stumble along in the course of ignorance.
He had smiled at her kindly as he walked with her into the room, and when Professor Snape had been standing ridged by the headmaster’s desk, she began to worry. He had still taken the time to offer her a lemon drop, but by then her mind was whirling with all the reasons why she could be there.
When the headmaster had settled in his desk, and she had been in her seat glancing nervously around, he had simply said, “Ms. Granger, have you ever heard of Black Magic?”
Her brows scrunched, “I have read as much as I can about it, but it seems to be a taboo subject. The most information I could find on it was in the Restricted-“ She cringed, but Dumbledore didn’t expand on her mistake. She opened her mouth again, “It seems to be a condition that is very rare, and contracted from birth, but it’s interestingly confined to only pureblooded wizards. It reminded me of Werewolves in the way that it was spread. Someone with the ability could in theory infect another person with it, but the person has to be compatible with the magic. If they are not, then there are fatal consequences. Besides that, and the fact that the last known Black Magic wielder was 300 years ago, that’s all I know.” There had been depressingly little she could find about it, even with the number of books she had scourged. “Why are you asking me about this?”
She had asked Madam Pince about it once, and maybe the librarian had told the headmaster in concern about her looking into a dark subject.
Dumbledore stroked his long, white beard, and that’s when she noticed the blackened, withered hand that he bore. She let out a small gasp, and his eyes met her with a twinkle. It seemed impolite to ask, so she held her tongue. Professor Snape seemed to be watching her every move from behind Dumbledore’s shoulder.
“Severus,” Dumbledore called, “Get Ms. Granger the books from my library. She will need to do some reading, and Ms. Granger, allow me to explain why I called you here today.
The memory was gone as quickly as it came.
“Enough to get by. What do you want with it?” She spits out. They likely wanted her assistance in something. To use her, as the people before them had done.
“Enough isn’t enough anymore. To help us, you need to understand every aspect of White Magic, to fix what has happened.” The truth laid bare.
White Magic. Black Magic was an ability that was concentrated in Pureblood families and was extremely rare. It wasn’t heredity, just came whenever the selected magic-barer was born. Black Magic was deadly, a form of raw magic with dark tones, but White Magic? Just as threatening. No Mudblood in history since the dawn of Wizarding kind had been given White Magic. Dumbledore had sensed it in her during third year and had held his tongue until it suited his needs the most.
To when he needed to make a weapon out of her.
White Magic was the exact opposite to cancel out the power given to Black Magic. Nature’s typical process of each force having an equal and opposing force. That’s the reason that Black Magic wielders who inflict their power on someone else are so dangerous. The infected Black Magic wizard or which has no check, no White Magic opposite that could balance it out. White Magic witches or wizards cannot make new possessors.
Which meant that whatever Malfoy was about to tell her, was truly bad. If there had been a Dark Magic wielder born, and was making infections, then there was only one way to stop them. She was the one way to stop them.
Nott stood, and looked down at her. He had always been blunt, one of the wealthiest snakes, besides Malfoy, and that git’s right-hand man. “Stop beating around the bush, Draco. We need to get moving on this as fast as possible, so no more lives are lost.”
Her eyes shuttered. People were dying about whatever they were talking about.
Malfoy gave him an ice-cold look, but said to her with no hesitation, “The Death Eaters were in possession of a Black Magic wielder during the war, and was in the process of creating soldiers filled with the infection. Since Voldemort’s death, they lost control of the Black Magic wielder, but the new wielders are still out there, with unlimited death magic.”
Oh no. Oh, this was so much worse than she thought. Her shock must have shown because he scoffed.
“You think that’s bad? Do you know that infectors have no conscious after using their magic? The Black Magic takes hold of their brain because they aren’t meant to have it, and seep its instincts into their brain until only the magic exists. There are 6 ex-Death Eaters with no control over their dark magic running around, killing anybody that’s stupid enough to encounter them.” His eyes were blazing, his tone vicious. “And worst of all, who do I find out is our only hope to solving this mess? Hermione-Fucking-Granger of course, because why wouldn’t that be it.”
She narrowed her eyes, and shot back, “And why did you not tell the ministry about this issue? Why is it on your conscious, why do you even give a damn about this world anymore?”
“Because I caused it, you imbecilic!” He snarled, then went still.
She sucked in a breath. He was not going to tell her that. He was the Black Magic wielder.
Which meant that she was his equal, and opposite in all ways.