The Silver Envelope

Potions and Tricks

Draco had known she would destroy the film the night he'd shown it to her; he'd said as much, right to her face! He must have made a replica of the film before giving it to her.
He'd had so many opportunities to tell her. Infinite chances to come clean. She probably wouldn't even have been very angry with him if he had only been honest about it. Instead. he'd hidden it away under lock and key and an illusion of trust. And he'd used them, too. All without saying a
word to ner.
If he had done that, what else had he kept from her? Was he truly sober? Could those vials and chemicals really be for developing drugs? Or worse, the poison that Harry had found on her tea?
No, it didn't make sense! What motive could Draco possibly have for hurting her?
Unless he'd only wanted to make it look like someone was after her. After all, he had been the one to call attention to the overturned pots in her kitchen. Perhaps he had some other reason to force her
awav from her that.
Just as Ron had said.
Groaning in frustration, Hermione stalked to the guest room, shutting herself in. She pulled on the nearest pair of jeans she could find, then exchanged Draco's shirt for one of her own. From her nightstand, she retrieved her beaded bag and began to wave her wand around the room, collecting all her belongings and sending them shooting haphazardly into its depths.
She didn't believe all of it, not for one second, but Johanna had a gift for mixing truth and lies in a way that made them indistinguishable from one another. What she'd just found in Draco's office neither proved nor disproved any of it, regardless of how suspicious it looked. Hermione simply didn't have enough information to know which of Johanna's statements tonight were lies. It was likely that Johanna had drawn from some source of truth in order to make it believable. But Draco could not possibly be involved in some horrible scheme to force her under his influence while he secretly dealt drugs! It made no sense at all
All the same, she couldn't just stay here, ignoring the warning signs and waiting for a potentially dangerous man to come home to her. She needed to leave, at least until she found out more about what was truly going on.
She would give him time with his parents, undisturbed. And in the meantime, she would figure out what the hell was going on.
Just consider me. That's all I'm asking. Think about me before you do something. The way I think
about you.
Hermione paused at the memory of his words, thinking. Draco should have a chance to explain.
When he returned from the hospital, she would hear him out completely. There had to be a reason for everything. But he would have to explain somewhere else, with witnesses and precautions set up for her safety. Besides, wasn't that exactly what he had been asking her to do at the time put her safety first?
Quickly, she woke Crookshanks from his nap and deposited him in his carrying basket. He grumbled crankily at her through the holes of the basket.
Summoning her notebook, she dashed out a quick note.
Draco.
I'm sorry to leave like this. I hope your parents are alright.
It vou haven't heard vet. Ignoma made an appearance on Johanna's show tonight. Ienoma said that she left you on purpose, and that vou are involved in developing drugs and porsons, as well as blackmaling Ron
I want you to know that I don't believe it. I know she was lying-I just don't know how much. don't know how she made Ignoma say those things, or if that really was Ignoma speaking at all.
We will find out, I promise you. However, for my safety, I can't stay here tonight. I hope you understand why. This needs to be cleared up before I return.
I'll be at Harry's when you're ready to talk.
Hermione
The note was on the coffee table when Hermione left.
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"Harry?" Hermione called out into the empty entrance hall of Grimmauld Place.
There was no response. She closed the door behind her, glad to be out of the frigid night air.
Leaving her coat on the stand next to the door, she wandered forward, looking for any sign of her friends. Crookshanks meowed from his basket, annoyed. He hated apparition.
Kreacher appeared, coming from the direction of the kitchen. He bowed slightly.
"Ms. Granger," he said in his low, croaking voice. "Mr. and Mrs. Potter are not here at the moment. Mr. Potter is out performing his Auror duties, and Mrs. Potter is attending a party."
Right. Hermione wondered how long they'd be. Clearly, they had both missed Johanna's show. It was unlikely they'd rush home.
Hermione nodded, sighing a bit.
She needed to talk to Harry. She wanted to ask him if Ron had mentioned anything about receiving photos from Draco. Also, if he had any leads on where Johanna was, they might finally be able to track Ignoma down.
Perhaps that was where he was. She hoped so.
Briefly, Hermione closed her eyes, imagining that Harry would return home from his mission with Johanna in handcuffs and Ignoma safe and sound, with a perfectly reasonable explanation for everything that had been said during the broadcast tonight. Then she and Draco and Ignoma would all go home and get the best sleep of their lives.
When she opened her eyes, Kreacher was staring at her. She flinched slightly.
"Er, I'm going to be staying here for a while, Kreacher. If that's alright," she said.
Kreacher, who did not have the authority to ask her to leave nor to grant her permission to stay, merely continued staring at her.
"Er.. I'll go find a room then," Hermione said.
Leaving Crookshanks to explore the house on his own. Hermione made her way to Regulus old room, which had been converted into a comfortable guest room. She had stayed here for a while after her breakup with Ron, while she was looking for a new flat. Though the room was familiar, it
did not comfort ner.
Something was off about this whole thing. What motive could Johanna possibly have to get Hermione to turn on Draco? For surely that was what she wanted. Hermione couldn't think of any
other person at whom the broadcast might have been aimed. However she had gotten Ignoma to say those things on air, Hermione felt certain that had been Johanna's game. That, more than anything, was why she refused to give in and believe it.
She hoped Draco was alright. It would be truly awful if his father died and he came home to an empty flat. The thought almost had her running back there.
Breathing deeply, Hermione tried to think.
There was something she was missing. Some piece of truth she hadn't uncovered yet, that would unravel everything.
As much as she despised the idea of talking to him, the only other person who might have information about what was going on was Ron. If Draco was truly blackmailing him, perhaps he could shed some light on why.
Suddenly, she remembered something odd Kreacher had said about Ron, the morning of Valentine's Day. He had called Ron "the Weasley thief with his potions and tricks."
Hermione had remembered it after the incident and supposed that Kreacher must have known something about Ron's bottle of Amortentia, or perhaps his Veritaserum. But what had Ron stolen?
The thought had her racing out of the room and calling the elf s name. She met him at the bottom of the stairs, ignoring the elf's scowl as he attempted to make eye contact with her.
"What is it, Ms. Granger?" Kreacher asked.
"You called Ron a thief," Hermione panted. "What did you mean by that?"
Kreacher shuffled his feet, delaying his answer.
"Kreacher is not certain what he means," he said.
Hermione was thoroughly confused.
"Explain, please," she prompted.

Kreacher looked around behind him, as if hoping someone would call him away to do anything other than talk to her. Reluctantly, he spoke.
"Kreacher thinks the Weasley boy is using stolen magic," Kreacher said. "His wand holds magic that does not belong to him.
"What do you mean?" Hermione demanded, no longer bothering with a polite tone. "Whose magic is it, if not his?"
"Kreacher does not know. It feels like elf magic, but Kreacher cannot say for certain," Kreacher said.
Hermione's brain went into overdrive. Ron's wand held elf magic?
Kreacher continued, starting to ramble in his deep, bullfrog voice.
Kreacher can feel it, he has a sense for the difference. It resists Weasley, it is not his magic to wield. That's why Kreacher thinks the Weasley stole it, but he has not been able to find proof."
"His wand contains elf magic?" Hermione repeated. "Stolen elf magic? How would that even work?"
Kreacher paused his rambling at the question, his eyes flicking to her and away just as quickly.
"Kreacher does not know," he said. "Kreacher has never seen it before."
Hermione found herself filled with even more questions than she'd had when she'd arrived. There was only one person who could explain it. Hopefully he was back home by now.
"Kreacher, if Harry or Ginny comes back, tell them I've gone to see Ron," she instructed.
Sprinting to the door, Hermione grabbed her coat off its hook and slipped outside, Disapperating through the cold night air without bothering to slip it on.
The lights were off when she appeared outside Ron's flat, so she let herself in. He was still out. then. Moping, if Ginny was correct. But something felt wrong about all this to Hermione.
She decided she would have a look around.
Room to room, she roamed, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Since she had left, Ron's habit of leaving his messes around had gotten exponentially worse, it seemed. Dirty laundry, shop merchandise, newspapers, and all sorts of other things littered every surface. The kitchen smelled of moldy leftovers, and the bathroom was unspeakably filthy. A large, black spider was clinging to the wall of the bathtub. Perhaps that was it. Ron had run off because he had seen the spider and sprinted out of the house, unable to handle dealing with it by himself. She half hoped that was truly
the case.
As she continued on through the flat, Hermione's grimace grew. Harry had said Ron was cut up over their relationship, but she hadn't imagined how his depression might affect his living conditions. It looked like he hadn't bothered to Scourgify in months. Reparo neither, judging by the hole in the wall she spotted near the door to his bedroom. Then again, maybe this was simply due to her absence in general. Suddenly the feelings she'd had while living with him, of being constantly overburdened with menial housekeeping tasks, surged to the front of her memory. He hadn't learned to cook passably either. She had been carrying him more than she had realized.
The guilt about it had gone stale. Months ago, she would have been rushing to take care of Ron, feeling wretched for leaving him to fend for himself after breaking his heart the way she had. Now, the automatic response that jerked in her belly, urging her to take care of him, felt distant and juvenile. The feelings were still there, but now she saw them for what they were.
On Ron's rumpled bedcover, something shiny caught Hermione's eye. She walked closer to it, finding a small round tin with the words "Flint's Finest Wand Polishing Pomade" on the top.
Curiously, Hermione lifted the lid off the pot. The thick, transparent, yellowish goo inside did not seem familiar until the faint chemical smell of it hit her nostrils.
Dread slid down Hermione's spine.
The scent had triggered a memory. She knew exactly where she had encountered the yellow goo before: in Selwyn's laboratory.
The missing piece of the puzzle clicked into place in her mind.
Draco. She had to tell Draco.
This time, she didn't even bother to grab her coat as she hurtled out the door and into the night.
But the moment her feet met the pavement, a burst of red light hit her hard in the chest, and the world went black.