Hermione truly thought it was amazing the way she seemed to attract people during a war setting. For someone who was not particularly well liked during her school days, she couldn't help but write it up as an anomaly more often than not. But the facts spoke for themselves: she was never given alone time.
Sitting in her room she was most often interrupted by Draco or Fred, and if she was holed up in more common areas it seemed almost anyone would approach her to make idle chat. She was quite the hot commodity but she chalked most of that up to her role as an Order member.
Today, as she was lounging in the first floor living room, feet thrown over the arm of the sofa and reading through the most recent interrogation reports, she was approached by Seamus.
She should have seen this coming, honestly. She'd done her best to avoid him after Draco had broken the news to him, and now that Blaise was awake and they had confirmed that the binding ceremony would be happening tonight, she shouldn't have been at all surprised.
But she was. And unprepared. She had nothing positive or enlightening to say to him that might lighten the load on his shoulders. He looked stressed beyond words; panic highlighting his eyes and tense muscles outlining his body.
He had grown into himself quite well, around the time he ceased blowing things up with every unfamiliar spell. He grew into his scrawny build, as most of them had due to the sheer amount of activity they participated in. He'd let his hair grow out a bit, and during the hot, humid summers it curled slightly with his sweat. He had a sweet smile and good intentions. In another life, she could see herself being interested.
Not this one, though.
"Good afternoon, Seamus."
"Hermione." He flopped down beside her, mimicking her pose so that their heads met in the middle cushion and he had to crane his neck to look into her eyes. "This is for you." He handed her a piece of parchment.
Hermione opened it up and skimmed through the crooked handwriting.
"Seamus, this is a resignation letter."
"Yes, I gave it my best go, but I think accounting is more my style."
Hermione smacked his head with the letter. "I don't think Gringotts is hiring half breeds at the moment, why don't you try again in a few years."
"What's that about half breeds?" Theo entered the room and plopped down at the foot of the couch. "You know that term offends me so."
"Finnegan is scared of Zabini."
Seamus gasped and sat up. "I am not! It's just time for me to move onto bigger and better things. The war effort is too small scale for me."
"Yes, you'll really find your niche counting coins behind a desk," Hermione replied drily. "Get a move on, Seamus. Draco is apparating Zabini over in an hour and it sounds like you've yet to start mentally preparing."
"This is so not fair," Seamus whined, face twisting into the most pathetic attempt of sorrow. "I've got the worst partner in all the Order."
Hermione sat up and placed a challenging glare on Seamus. "I'm bound to an actual Death Eater. Zabini was just a wannabe."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Seamus crossed his arms over his chest.
"It means I have the worst partner."
"As if!"
"Let's see, shall we?" Hermione began, holding her fingers out as she checked off her mental list, "he's prejudiced, biased, naive and stupid."
"Zabini is all that as well," Seamus argued. "I could even say he's worse, considering he's not even all that skilled as what he does."
"So Malfoy being a more successful part of the Dark side makes him a better partner? No, it simply makes him more evil."
"Malfoy came to the Order willingly. Zabini still believes all that nonsense that Tom speaks."
"Malfoy came to us strictly to save his own arse. That makes him smarter than Blaise, sure, but I could argue that makes him more dangerous and therefore the worse partner."
"Is this something you really need to be arguing about?" Theo inquired.
Hermione pursed her lips and tipped her head to the ceiling as if in thought. "Yes."
"Well Finnegan," Theo began, giving Hermione a conspiratorial look, "the only way to truly prove you've got it worse is to go through with the binding."
Seamus, whose face had gone from pinked cheeks to completely red faced, shot Theo a glare so menacing that Voldemort himself would be impressed, before throwing his hands up.
"Fine. I'll bind to the bloody evil git."
Hermione patted him on the back. "That's the spirit. You'll be best friends in no time."
"S'not fair," he insisted. "Malfoy actually isn't all that bad."
"I'm confused. In all the scenarios I'd imagined where Malfoy joined the Order— which in case you were wondering, were zero, because Malfoy was evil and self righteous and prejudiced—" she shook her head. "He was isolated and miserable and constantly being mocked."
Seamus shrugged, blowing his hair out of his eyes. "A few years ago, sure. Now it's too exhausting. We've got enough people to hate. I'm tired of it. I'm not sure how much hatred I have left in me."
With that, Seamus was up and walking out the door.
Hermione sat thinking about his words long after she should have headed to the ceremony.
---
When she had managed to shake herself from her reverie she rushed into the binding room into a scene of chaos.
The room was almost as full as it had been during Malfoy and her's ceremony. Apparently even during war people still had time to stick their noses where they didn't belong.
Theo and Malfoy were both screaming at something below them. Hermione ran over to see Blaise pinned below Draco's knees while Theo gripped his shoulders with a white knuckle intensity.
"What in Godric's name is going on?"
Malfoy looked up at her. She couldn't read his eyes. His brow was loose with emotionless indifference. He was fully occluded, as if headed into battle.
"We can't start a binding ritual like this."
"The circle's just over there to the left." Malfoy chucked his chin in the direction and she eyed a green circle, so thin it was barely visible at the angle she was standing.
She turned her head back to the boys. "What's your plan?"
"Can we stun him?"
"Theo!"
"It was just a suggestion."
Even under Theo's inhuman strength Blaise was bucking like a wild animal. The scene reminded Hermione of third year, Malfoy writhing underneath Buckbeak's claws.
"Looks like you finally conquered your fear of mythical creatures."
"Stuff it, Granger."
Hermione bit back a smile.
"Tell me you have an actual plan."
Malfoy grunted as Blaise thrashed particularly hard. He wasn't making any noises. On closer inspection Hermione saw his mouth open and the veins at his neck threatening to burst.
"Silencing charm?"
"You can thank us later," Theo replied drily. "My head's pounding from his high pitched threats."
"This isn't going to work." Hadn't they thought ahead this far?
"Granger, if that's all you've got to say why don't you take a seat next to the rest of our audience?"
As tempting as it was to just leave Malfoy and let him figure it out himself, she found herself hesitating. Not a single reason swam to the surface as to why she should help him.
"A sticking charm. In the circle."
She wasn't sure what had gotten into her anymore.
"Will that interfere with the binding magic?"
"I don't know. We've never had to restrain someone in an attempt to complete it."
"Well no time like the present." Theo lifted Blaise's shoulders off the ground. "After you, Drakie."
Draco's jaw clenched. Out of all the things to cut through his seemingly impenetrable walls, Hermione was unsurprised you find it would be a slight from Theo.
It was almost painful to watch the three boys struggle against each other. The trio had once been inseparable. The thought continued to flow into Hermione. An image of the three of them laughing and drinking Firewhiskey out of a flask in Hogsmeade floated into her mind.
She hadn't seen Blaise smile since she'd captured him. It looked so effortless in the memory. The sun peered through the winter skies and shone down on them. Draco nudged Blaise in the shoulder, mouthing words she couldn't hear and then the three were bent over as peels of laughter fell from their lips.
It was painful to watch. Another reminder that some things may never be pieced back together the same way they were before.
Draco looked towards Hermione pleadingly and suddenly it was too obvious why he had put so much effort into occluding.
She walked over to him and wordlessly performed the charm.
"Hold his arms down too. I'll stick them to his clothes."
Once it was done she stepped back and assessed her work.
He was still flailing hopelessly. At this point it was embarrassing. Hermione had never met a more stubborn human before.
"What are the odds of this working out in our favor?"
Hermione turned to Draco, ready to remind him that she and him didn't want the same outcome, but as soon as her eyes met his— crystal slicing into her, cutting so deep that her ocean walls were overwhelmed by storm surges of emotions— and she took his hand.
"We'll perform the ceremony. Together."
When Seamus appeared at the front of the crowd, hands in his pockets and expression schooled into one of indifference, Hermione gestured to his half of the circle. He eyed Blaise suspiciously.
"He looks thrilled to be here."
"He's here," Hermione replied drily. "It's good enough for now. Get into the circle."
After the first hour of Draco and herself circling the pair, Hermione lost track of time. By the time the line in the middle had disappeared she felt nearly drained. Beside her Draco was breathing heavily. His wand hand was quivering.
"It's not supposed to be that draining," she said
"It's a unique circumstance."
A wave of dizziness passed over Hermione. She closed her eyes and tried to calm the storm in her mind. Maybe she was just getting seasick.
Below them, Blaise and Finnegan had started to come to. About thirty minutes in they had taken to sitting cross legged on the floor, backs to each other. Even though ceremonies hadn't seemed to have anything to do with the efficacy of a bind, it still made Hermione nervous to see. It was the first time she'd seen a compatible pair not acknowledge each other in any way.
They jerked their heads up at the same time, necks craning left to right until their eyes fell on Hermione and Draco.
Neither said a word. They seemed unwilling to face each other.
"Well?" Hermione prompted.
Seamus' hand flew to the back of his neck. "Bloke's angry."
Blaise jerked around to face Seamus head on.
"Angry? We just merged our souls and all you have to say is that I'm angry?"
"Well you're proving my point now, aren't you?"
"I'm more than just my anger."
"Are you?"
Blaise crossed his arms over his chest. "I guess you're not more than stupid, then."
"I'll show you—"
"All right!" Hermione clapped her hands together before reaching down for Finnegan's shirt collar. "A bit of separation to calm the nerves is always a good idea." She brought him to his feet and eyed her partner. "Draco?"
He was staring wordlessly at Blaise, who was sitting with his fists clenched, glaring daggers at Seamus.
Hermione pulled Seamus from the room as Blaise began to speak.
"Angry. Bloke's got no emotional depth if he thinks that's all I feel."
Seamus turned to Hermione. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out he's ruled by hatred."
Hermione's eyes stayed forward. "How do you feel?"
"Angry."
---
Hermione, Harry, Ron and Dean sat with Seamus in the second floor living room while the new pair gained their sensibilities back separate from each other.
Hermione lounged on the floor facing the couch, sandwiched between Harry and Ron. It felt at home and peaceful in a way she was unable to describe without using the term nostalgic.
The three of them were so rarely able to get together like this anymore. They all found themselves on different teams, still interacting and loving each other when possible, but mostly needing to stay apart to perform their duties. She saw Harry and Ron often enough, and they were still her best friends undoubtedly, but the opportunities for them to all three sit together were so rare that it automatically threw Hermione back to their Hogwarts days, conspiring by the Common Room fire about things that were just hypothetical back then.
"How are you feeling, mate?" asked Dean.
Dean and Seamus both seemed to have fallen victim to the same curse as the trio. They used to be inseparable, and while Hermione was sure they were still the best of friends, it wasn't uncommon to see one without the other now.
Ron and Dean were bound, both on the D team. They spent most of their time locked up in the war room planning strategies and raids. If they weren't there, they were up on the roof getting in their mandated training hours. Schedules never seemed to line up like they used to.
Seamus has taken to sitting stiffly on the couch, staring into the fire blankly. At Dean's question he merely shrugged.
"I think he's in shock," Hermione said, gaze on Dean.
Dean sent her a knowing look. The two of them had become well acquainted during the times of war. Because of their muggleborn status, they often found themselves cooped up together, whether it be because they were both abducted or because they needed to just sit in the company of someone else who understood what it was like.
A lot of their traumas were shared. It both brought Hermione closer to Dean, and made her want to keep her distance at the same time.
"Should I slap him?" Dean asked.
"Perhaps Seamus could answer that question best himself." Hermione said.
Dean turned towards Seamus.
Well, mate? Do you need to be slapped?"
Seamus remained silent. Hermione couldn't recall the last time he'd blinked.
The harsh sound of palm hitting cheek echoed throughout the room. Seamus jumped up, hands on his face and glared at his best friend.
"I really hate that that is standard protocol," he muttered, rubbing his jaw. "That's going to bruise."
"It's been tested in a controlled setting," Hermione declared.
"You slapping Dean in the basement of Malfoy Manor to snap him out of shock is not controlled," Harry said.
"Fine," Hermione huffed, eyes landing on a smirking Dean. "It's been field tested."
"Blimey," muttered Ron. "Remind me to thank the gods I've never been captured with Hermione."
"I'll have you know I'm a great prison mate."
"That's true," Dean said. "She always offers up her piece of moldy bread."
"Only the best for you," she beamed.
It was silent for a moment before Ron turned his head towards Seamus.
"Well? How're you feeling?"
Seamus shrugged. "I feel— I feel like I've got a new purpose."
"That's— good," Hermione sputtered. The others nodded in agreement.
"It's—" Seamus paused, rubbing at his chest. "Zabini's got a lot of issues. He's mad and confused— but above all he's scared."
The group stayed silent. Hermione felt like they were intruding on a private moment, as if Seamus wasn't telling them necessarily, just needed to let the information out of his head.
"But he's taken it all and he's turned it into motivation. He'll do anything for his cause."
Hermione swallowed roughly. "And does his cause remain the same?"
Seamus met her gaze head on. "He's angry. And scared. And confused. Right now, he lacks purpose. Or maybe that's not it. It's more like— his purpose has been transferred. It's like— I'm his purpose."
Hermione released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. It had worked. The bind would ensure Blaise's loyalty.
She wasn't quite sure what to do with that information.
On the one hand she was relieved to know they wouldn't have to take further action against him. This all could have been much messier if the bind didn't work how they'd predicted.
But at the same time, she wasn't sure how she felt knowing that the bind had changed his mind so quickly. Did that mean deep down he was always unsure, or had the bind been the one to change his mind?
Was their bind, created to fight in favor of the resistance, biased?
The bind can't create anything that isn't there.
This had been their claim now, for years. She was so sure this was the truth. But sitting here staring at Seamus, she couldn't stop the guilt that stirred in her stomach.
It's not that she felt bad about changing Blaise's mind, more so that now she was questioning everything.
The things that had always driven the Order was their fire, their will to win based solely on doing the right thing. Everyone here believed in the same things and that shared passion drove them into what she knew would one day be victory.
She thought of Blaise's hateful words and spiky tongue. His evil eyes and blatant refusal to cooperate with the Order, even with his best mates standing there and insisting to him they were doing the right thing.
It left Hermione wondering: Did the bind bring out the best in people, or did it just bring out what the Order wanted?
Had they manipulated Blaise into taking and fighting on their side of the war?
Hermione swallowed. Had she and her feelings— all the thoughts she shot at Draco— manipulated him into believing the Order was best?
Was none of this sincere?
Draco burst into the room then. He gave no greetings; said nothing at all. He merely reached for Hermione, dragged her by her wrist out of the room and slammed the door behind him.
"Let me be clear about this," he began, swinging her around until her back hit the wall opposite the door. "I cannot be swayed by your thoughts. I am an Occlumency master as you well know and your weak and feeble attempts to bully me into seeing things your way merely made me want to break our bind and turn back to the Dark Lord."
Hermione swallowed. She couldn't speak, and he must have known it because he took his time, eyes traveling her face and searching for— something— before he continued on.
"You can manipulate my mind no more than I can with yours and convince you to come with the Death Eaters and fight for us. I can try, sure but it would be stupid and annoying. This bind didn't alter me. I came to the Order because I wanted to, being bound to you was just a part of the deal. And if I've changed along the way— be it in my views on muggleborns or my views on the Order as a whole— it would simply be because I've realized that fighting for the Dark Lord in the first place was a death sentence, something that never should have happened."
He raised his hand and placed it gently on the side of her neck. She leaned into his touch.
"And if you think you're responsible for any of that, Granger. Well— you might be right, but it would have nothing to do with our bind and everything to do with your passion, facts and well driven experiments. You've proven to me that this is the right side in a way that would remain true even without this bind. And it's like I already told you, my views haven't changed since before I came to the Order. But maybe they've been cemented."
"My attempts to change your mind are anything but feeble," she said breathlessly.
Draco's thumb stroked at her throat slowly and her pulse thrummed beneath his touch. Her legs quivered underneath her.
"If Blaise has changed his mind it's because the bind has allowed him to see clearly; to remember who it is he's always been."
"You can't know that," she insisted.
"I trust you," he said, eyes serious and searching hers. "It's time you start to trust me as well."
Draco had never faltered in his faith in Blaise and Hermione had fought him, digging her feet into the ground and asking him to reevaluate the entire time.
But Draco had been right. And Hermione was having such a hard time accepting it that she was trying to warp the science behind their bind to try and fit the new narrative.
"These bonds," she began, dropping her eyes to the ground. "The longer time goes on the more I'm realizing they could be dangerous. Unhealthy."
"Granger, if the worst thing that comes out of this war is that some people are codependent on each other, I think we can call it a win."
"You say that now," she said. "But what happens when after the war we want to go our own ways, but the bind insists we stay together?" She searched his face, but his walls had gone up. "Then what? When we can't discern where our feelings stop and the bind's begin?"
Draco remained silent, but he pulled her into a hug.
Hermione knew it was a distraction, as much for him as it was for her, but she couldn't bear to break it. Their relationship was so fragile as it was.
Besides, she could hear Draco's answer echoing in her mind. Bouncing around until it consumed all her senses.
I'll never want to leave you.