The rest of the day sped by for Hermione. She managed to get an article put together with Draco and the twins sent it off for her.
No one disturbed them in the old classroom, but she did find a short missive stuck to the door from Professor Mcgonagall stating that Hermione had detention with Professor Snape at one the next day for her display of temper at breakfast.
She scowled, annoyed at the loss of an entire afternoon, but didn't protest. She was a prefect - assuming Mcgonagall had reinstated her - and she knew what did and did not deserve a detention. Throwing an entire table's worth of accoutrements into the air was certainly deserving of a detention.
Even if she had cleaned it all up.
Draco walked her down to dinner, his fingers interlaced with her unscarred hand.
More.
They were more, but what was more?
It had been simple with Viktor. He'd asked her to a dance and then they had kept spending time together before amicably ending things at Diggory's celebratory party in the summer. She'd always known it would end, though they had exchanged a number of friendly letters over the past two years, there was nothing romantic about them.
Draco was different.
There was no end date. No certainty of them parting. Their lives were as intertwined as hers was with Harry. If not more so.
After all, her link fo Harry would likely break when he turned seventeen, if not when they ceased to live together. Blood wards didn't last forever.
The link with Draco was different. It wasn't going anywhere. Not unless she did something as horrific as Voldemort had done to Lucius Malfoy.
And Hermione knew she could never betray Draco that way. Could never kill someone he cared about. Primarily because they cared for many of the same people.
Also, she was sure she could kill if she had to, but she wasn't a killer.
She wasn't Bellatrix.
She didn't seek out pain and death. Even if she was prepared to meet them head on.
So, she was tied to Draco for life. In some form or another. Was it really smart to travel down this path?
To keep becoming more?
She didn't know.
When they parted in the Great Hall and went to their own house tables she still wasn't sure. She was unable to respond to any of her friends questions about earlier, though they had all read the commentary in the journal. Had all commented on it throughout the day.
She was still lost in her own thoughts on Draco when owls appeared, delivering a special evening edition of the Fae Chronicles.
Even as she was unfolding the Irish paper a special evening edition of the Daily Prophet also appeared. It's headline took up almost the entire front page:
RUFUS SCRIMGEOUR APPOINTED MINISTER OF MAGIC AFTER CORNELIUS FUDGE STEPS DOWN
The rest of the front page, for the very first time, was taken up with Hermione's own article, still listing 'The Brightest Black' as the author.
The ensuing conversation in the Great Hall was impossible to follow as students and professors poured over the inky newsprint; their dinner completely forgotten. She did hear Colin Creevy though, when he gasped and shouted, "Umbridge is likely dead!"
He was currently halfway through the paper.
She quickly flipped her Daily Prophet to where Creevy was and began reading.
Dark Mark Discovered!
By Shawn Woo
Aurors arrived at former Undersecretary Umbridge's house this afternoon to find a Dark Mark floating above her small retirement cottage. The inside of the cottage was only mussed by a half-eaten lunch in the kitchen. Aurors found no evidence of foul play outside of the Mark. Madam Umbridge appears to have disappeared without a trace.
Auror Shacklebolt gave an official statement declaring that the Ministry suspects He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as a likely culprit as the man has returned from the dead.
Something that former Minister Fudge desperately tried to deny, but current Minister Scrimgeour completely believes.
Please contact the Department of Magical Law Enforcement regarding any information on Madam Umbridge or Death Eaters.
That article, combined with the letter from Narcissa gave Hermione a strong sense of satisfaction, even if she was still put out at being robbed of true revenge on the nasty woman.
Some things were just not to be. Besides, she rather suspected Narcissa hadn't let the toad slip off to the next world too easily. And if Padfoot had helped at all it wouldn't have been a pretty sight.
Not that Hermione had wanted to kill her. Not in cold blood. She didn't want to become Bellatrix. But punishment? Leaving Umbridge to a terrible fate?
Entirely doable.
XXX
The changes at the Ministry were all anyone at Hogwarts talked about for the next week. That and Umbridge being gone. At first everyone seemed to give Hermione all the credit for ridding them of the toad, but she did her best to push credit off on Mclaggen and Creevy. They were the ones that had captured the evidence and brought it to Mcgonagall.
Harry kept his part in it entirely quiet, as did Draco. Harry felt as if he didn't deserve the spotlight and technically Draco had been wrong to stun Umbridge, though she suspected that no court would find him guilty of a crime. Not when Umbridge was accused of using an unforgivable at the time.
Still, it was better to stay quiet and be safe.
They were getting very good at staying quiet.
Outside of their short conversation about being 'More' they had said nothing about their change in relationship. No one else commented on it either.
She had been sure that when they walked into the Great Hall holding hands there would be questions, but the news from the Ministry had taken over everyone's minds. By the time people stopped talking about the Ministry they had all gotten so used to Hermione and Draco being inseparable that it was no more a topic of conversation than Ginny and Harry were.
It was rather relaxing, to tell the truth.
And she needed relaxing, because figuring out her own feelings was stressful enough without everyone else weighing on them.
She sighed and then jumped when a callused finger reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"A knut for your thoughts."
She gave Draco a smile and captured his hand, giving his fingers a light kiss even as she took comfort in the rough calluses he had from years of handling racing brooms. She didn't quite know why they were comforting, but she suspected it was due to Padfoot and Harry having similar calluses.
"Just everything that's going on. How no one batted an eyelash at us being together. Even when we've been walking around, holding hands all over Hogwarts. Or how things have grown so quiet. Almost too quiet."
Draco frowned, "Did you want people to focus on us being together?"
She shook her head, "No, but I was expecting it. That's all."
His face relaxed and his lips tilted up at the corners. "So, you're saying you're worrying because a negative thing you expected didn't happen? That's a bit silly."
She wrinkled her nose at him, "Point. But yes, I am. Things just seem to be going so well. What with Umbridge gone and Scrimgeour as Minister. Makes my skin itch. Especially as we know Voldemort is still out there, regrouping."
He sighed and ran a hand over his head, smoothing his hair down. "I understand what you're saying, but there's not a thing we can do about it now. Maybe this summer, if nothing has occurred, we can become more active. We'll both be seventeen then. But right now we can't do a bloody thing unless he comes knocking on our door. Besides, you know what our parents said. If you go off, or even if the two of us go off, Harry will follow. And Harry is the one Voldemort really wants." He stopped and looked around their deserted classroom for a moment, making sure it was still secure. "Voldemort doesn't know the real reason Harry has been able to elude him so many times. He doesn't know of the blood wards or that Harry was a horcrux. Not to mention what happened with their wands in the graveyard."
His words made something move in her mind. Information shifted and resorted, organizing itself in such a way that she realized something that had been sitting right in front of her the entire time.
The wands.
"Power the dark lord knows not..." she whispered. Her mind racing to put pieces together. There had been so much going on over the past month and a half she hadn't had much time to think back on her earlier research.
"Hermione?"
"I know why their wands have the same core. It was the horcrux. Had to be. Harry would likely have been holly and phoenix feather, no matter what, but the horcrux inside of him made him connect with the brother wand of Voldemort's! And that means..." She pulled away from Draco and reached into her drawstring bag, pulling out one of her many texts on wandlore. Quickly she flipped through it until she found the section she was looking for. "Here, listen to this: ...and as long as the owner of a brother wand attempts to use a spell against the owner of the matching brother wand it shall prove unsuccessful. This cannot be ignored through the use of another wand as long as one owner still wields one of the brother wands - for a wand shall always recognize the owner of it's brother. Delving into legend we can only find one instance where this rule was ignored. One of the owners had mastery of 'The Death Stick'."
"The Death Stick....it must mean the Elder Wand. From the 'Tale of the Three Brothers'. But that's a fairy tale." Draco said in disbelief.
She looked up at him, "Yes, it's a fairy tale. But, as Luna is always saying, every tale has the possibility of being true as long as we have magic. It's quite possible someone created a truly powerful wand and then named it after the fairy tale. Or the fairy tale was inspired by this powerful wand. I've read books that reference a wand above all others. And if we found this information-"
"-then that means Voldemort may have as well. I wonder where this wand is. If it even still exists."
"It has to exist. Though if someone died peacefully while in control of it then no one will have its allegiance."
"Meaning it's no more powerful than any other wand."
He nodded, "Yes. Now, we don't know what Voldemort's been up to lately. If Snape is still a double agent he's either out of contact or not sharing anything around the twins. That means Voldemort could be looking for a sure way to defeat Harry."
"And that means the Death Stick. I wonder where it was last rumored to be..."
He rubbed at his chin, "It's likely not in any text here in the library. But I bet Ollivander knows. What do you think?"
"You're right. I doubt letters are getting out yet. So let me ask the twins."
She put the text back in her bag and pulled out her journal. The first few pages were filled with writing from Fred and George explaining the rest of the items they had sent with Pansy. She flipped past them and began writing.
Phoenix: Gred, Forge, I have a favor to ask. It's important.
Less than a minute later she got a response, making her frown. "Do they keep the journals open all the time?"
"I doubt it. I'm betting they figured out a way to modify the journal to let them know when someone is writing. Or maybe just when someone says their names. I considered it a while back and may have even mentioned it to them. Just never found the time to work on it."
Her frown deepened, "Well, they should share it with the rest of us. We're a team."
Draco snickered, "Sure you're not just jealous they modified your work?"
"No, after all, you already modified the journals. Would be rather ridiculous of me to be jealous of them and not you. I'm just annoyed they haven't shared it with us. That's all."
"Sure you are..."
She wrinkled her nose at him and gave him arm a light shove.
"You're a right prat."
He smirked and wrapped his arms around her as he hooked his foot around the leg of her chair to pull her closer." Yes, but I'm your prat."
She had no good response for that so she merely slid her journal over to her new spot at the desk he had helped her repair; picking up her quill and looking down at what Fred had written.
Gred: what do you need?
Hopefully she could get the twins to run by Ollivander's soon and ask about the Death Stick.
She had a rather strong feeling that it was important.
XXX
Fred slipped out of the shop as soon as it closed. It had seemed really important to Hermione to go speak with Ollivander, but they had been too busy to slip away earlier.
The February wind snaked through Diagon Alley and pulled at his robes as he walked down the street towards the wand shop. He considered casting a warming charm on his robes, but then discarded the idea. He wouldn't be outside for long. Besides, George was still safely back in their warm shop, balancing the register. His warmth would help Fred stay warm.
He felt George smile at this idea and Fred let out a low chuckle, causing the few other people on the street to look at him nervously.
Ollivander's Wands was shut up tight, so he slipped down the alley next to it and climbed the rickety stairs to the flat above the shop, wincing as he held onto the cold iron handrail with his bare hand.
He should have brought gloves.
George winced and agreed, putting down the galleons he'd been counting and sticking his hand under his bum to warm it back up.
Fred wondered sometimes if their bodies were really as connected as they felt. Or was it all in their mind? If Fred died, would George die as well? Would he feel like he had died?
George scowled and muttered something under his breath.
Fred let out another chuckle, much harsher this time and reached out to rap sharply on the door to the flat.
It took about a minute, but then the door opened to reveal an old man squinting up at Fred.
"Ah, Fred Weasley, thirteen inches, walnut with a unicorn hair core that is the brother to the core of George Weasley's wand. Although," His eyes grew distant for a moment as he thought back, "the cores are the same, and the wood is the same, the wood comes from two different walnut trees. Most curious. Now, what may I do for you?"
Fred had only run across Mr. Ollivander a few times since they had received their wands, but each time he found it unsettling how the wizard had been able to distinguish him from George.
George did as well.
It was different with people like Hermione or Luna. They had known each other for years. They were also observant enough to pick up on the few subtle differences.
"Mr. Weasley?" Ollivander prompted.
Fred gave himself a mental shake, hearing George laugh as he returned to counting galleons. "Oh, yes, sorry. May I come in? This may take a moment."
Ollivander's eyes narrowed a bit and his hand tightened in the door handle, "Let me see your wand."
Feeling a bit confused, Fred reached into his robes slowly and pulled out his wand. Being sure to not point it at the older man.
Immediately upon viewing it Ollivander took a step back and gestured for Fred to answer.
Fred's confusion was mirrored by George, who had stopped counting to focus in on what Fred was doing.
The flat was filled with antique furnishings that looked to be on the verge of falling apart.
Rather like the Burrow.
Fred instantly felt comfortable even as George grew wary. Fred thought it was a bit paranoid, but he supposed he shouldn't feel so immediately comfortable.
It was a bit odd.
Just like Ollivander as he settled into a faded blue wingback chair.
Fred didn't even think as he took a seat on a lavender settee. It just seemed like the natural thing to do.
"Well? I must admit that my curiosity is piqued," Ollivander said, settling into his chair and picking up a tumbler half full of an amber liquid. The ice cubes clinked against the glass as Fred and George thought of the best way to phrase things.
"Well...I'm not actually here for myself. Or for George. I'm here about-"
"Harry Potter's wand," Ollivander said knowingly before taking a small sip of his drink.
Fred nodded, "Yes, that's part of it."
Ollivander studied him for a moment over the rim of his glass. Studying him.
It felt like Ollivander didn't just see Fred. Or even a Weasley twin. No, he saw the two of them. Separate and yet together. Individuals, but ones so greatly linked they sometimes forgot that the weren't the same.
It was spooky.
George - of course - agreed with Fred.
"No, I can see that. This is not merely about the twin wands." Ollivander pursed his lips and looked down at the glass in his hand. "Someone has found more. You want information. Things that cannot be found in a book."
Fred nodded and leaned forward "Yes, we want to know what you can tell us about the Death Stick."
Ollivander froze, his glass now halfway to his lips, the ice slipped and clattered against the glass. For a single instant the room was silent. All Fred could hear was the clink of coins as George played nervously with a few sickles.
Ollivander took a deep breath and lowered his glass. "Why?"
George grew still and Fred scooted to the edge of the settee. "Because we fear that You-Know-Who will seek if out. That he will want it to defeat Harry Potter."
The glass dropped from Ollivander's hand, shattering on the floor. Fred jumped up and felt George do the same.
But Ollivander did not leave his chair. Instead his eyes grew wide and he whispered, "Gregorovitch."
Fred frowned, but before he could ask the question, George was telling him the answer. Trust George to know something like this.
"He has the wand?"
Ollivander took a steadying breath and stood up, suddenly looking very old and feeble. Fred watched, feeling helpless as the man tottered over to a heavy mahogany desk and pulled out parchment. His quill was dipped into ink and he held it over the parchment for a heartbeat, his hand shaking. A drop of ink slipped off the quill and dropped onto the parchment.
Ollivander stared at it, his hand beginning to shake more. He grimaced and threw the quill away in disgust.
"Mr. Ollivander? Can I help you?"
"He's going to come for me. Because of what I know."
"Mr. Ollivander, who do you mean? Gregorovitch? Why-?"
"No, not him. You-Know-Who. He will be in search of a wand. I am a wandmaker. And not just any wandmaker. But the wandmaker that gave the boy he sees as a nemesis the one wand that shares a core with his own. I should have seen this coming."
Ollivander took a deep breath, and then pulled out his wand. As Fred watched the older man packed a frayed carpetbag, looked around his small flat once more and them focused his now steady, piercing gaze on Fred.
"Take me to your Order. Then I must write Gregorovitch a letter. For when You-Know-Who finds me gone he will seek out the only wandmaker to ever truly rival me."
Fred didn't quite understand what this was about- and neither did George - but both of them could feel the urgency behind each one of the older man's words.
"I'll have to take you by floo. We need to travel together as you don't have access."
Almost instantly Ollivander started strode over to the mantle and took down a small pot on the mantle. "That's doable."
Fred nodded and moved to the fire. He wrapped his arm around the older man's suddenly frail shoulders and tossed some powder in. The flames changed color and they stepped in.
As he clearly said, "Marauders' Academy," he felt George doing the exact same thing.
This likely wasn't what Hermione had planned for them to do, but Fred and George had a feeling it was exactly what she wanted.
And if Fred and George knew anything about Hermione, it was that she always got what she wanted.
h