The Sweetest Sin

Chapter 20: A Terrible Crime

His hand was slowly sliding down her side...Chills ran up and down her spine as he caressed her bare skin with a touch so soft it was as if he weren't even there...

Hermione's eyes flew open and she sat up straight. Her scarcely-clothed body shivered as the cool, dusty air of her bedroom hit her, but she was relieved to find that the stranger in her dream was nowhere to be found.

Exhaling sharply, Hermione pushed her damp hair away from her face and was surprised to find beads of sweat lining her brow. She ran her palm across her forehead, then untangled the sheets from her legs, stood up, and trudged over to the mirror.

I look even worse than I thought I did, she thought exhaustedly. Having not had a haircut for many months now, Hermione's hair had once again become a tangled, matted mess. The bags underneath her eyes had darkened noticeably and her skin had taken on the distinct shade of overcooked porridge, making her appear more tired and stressed than anything else.

Hermione rubbed her eyes tiredly before she looked back at the mirror and when she did, she had to suppress a gasp, for once again, a kindly woman's face had appeared on the surface of the mirror.

"Good morning!" said the mirror cheerfully. It then shot a reproachful look at Hermione and asked, "I've been meaning to ask you...What caused the sudden change in appearance?"

"Stress," Hermione replied, stifling a yawn. "Stress and running after two little kids all day long." She sat down on the old, wooden stool in front of the mirror and rested her chin heavily on her hand.

The mirror made a tut-tutting sound, then said, "Well, that's certainly no excuse. But what in the world can worry a poor thing like you so much that you stop taking care of yourself?"

"Nothing," replied Hermione hastily.

In response, she received a glare from the mirror so reminiscent of one of Mrs Weasley's glares that she found she couldn't help but tell the truth. Under her breath, she mumbled, "Draco-might-love-me-and-I-don't-know-what-to-do."

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I didn't catch that."

Hermione repeated the sentence loudly and with pauses between each word. A ringing silence ensued after she finished.

"Well," said the mirror after a few minutes, "forgive me, but I expected it to happen eventually."

"Not you too!" Hermione exclaimed in annoyance. "Pansy said the same thing. Why did everyone see this coming except for me? I doubt you could have forseen it happening."

"I know Pansy said it as well," the mirror matter-of-factly. "I see everything even though you may not see me here. I realised it before her, though; the first time he walked into this room and laid eyes on you, I knew it."

"But how?"

"It's not something I can explain to you, Miss Granger. It's something you can feel."

"If it was as meant to be as you say," said Hermione desperately, "how can it not...be right? I mean -- how can something that feels so natural be so wrong?"

The mirror smiled at Hermione. "You are a smart girl, but knowledge can only get you so far. Sometimes, you have to abandon it and trust your feelings instead."

"That's so..." said Hermione, scrunching up her nose and searching for the right word, "...cliche."

"There's a reason why pieces of advice considered 'cliche' became so. After all, they must be well worth taking if they're repeated so often." With that, the face on the mirror smiled at Hermione and disappeared.

As Hermione watched the ripples on the surface of the glass slowly fading away, she groaned in exasperation. It was always the same advice. "Follow your heart!" she spat out bitterly. "It's not like my heart has been leading me in the right direction lately."

Standing up, she kicked the stool away and walked over to her bed. She snatched the nearest robe and slid it on, then stormed up the stairs and to the dining room.

--------

Later that afternoon, as Hermione made her way up the stairs to the second floor, she was surprised to find Thomas was stalking out of his bedroom, looking angry and frustrated as he tried to push his sister, who was trailing after him, away.

"Kathy, go do something else!"

"But Tommy, I want to come with you!"

The two stopped in their tracks when they saw Hermione. Their reactions were quite different; while the look on Thomas' face darkened, an expression of delight crossed Kathryn's.

"Hermyne!" she squealed, running over to Hermione and hugging her legs tightly.

"H-hi Kathryn," stuttered Hermione, nearly unbalancing. She steadied herself by grabbing onto the railing behind her, then asked, "What are you doing?"

"Tommy says he's going somewhere important but he won't let me go with him." The little girl pouted and stared up at Hermione as if begging her to change Thomas' mind.

"Where are you going, Tommy?"

He scowled at Hermione. "None of your business."

Hermione frowned. She had grown used to the oldest Malfoy child's attitude, but it still annoyed her. Nevertheless, she tried to ignore her irritation and said in as calm of a voice as she could manage, "I'm just trying to --"

"Be nice, Tommy!" interrupted Kathryn suddenly. Hermione looked down and was surprised to find that the little girl was glaring furiously at her brother. "Hermyne will tell Mum."

"Like Mum will care," sneered Thomas. "She would never believe a stupid Mudblood anyway."

Hermione's frown deepened. She was tempted to tell Thomas that her and Pansy were no longer on bad terms with each other, but refrained from doing so. Instead, she said, "I'm sure your mother wouldn't want you to leave the house without telling anyone though."

"Dad knows, and that's all that matters," retorted Thomas. "I'm leaving now, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"But Tommy, I --"

"Kathy, shut up!"

Hermione's eyes widened. The menacing tone in his voice was something she never would have thought could come out of a five year-old's mouth. "Tommy, watch your mouth," she said sharply.

"I'm not going to take any orders from you," he said venomously to Hermione, rolling his eyes. Then, with that, he pushed past Hermione and Kathryn and began running down the stairs.

Just then, Kathryn burst into tears. Before Hermione could attempt to comfort her, she had released Hermione's legs and begun to run after Thomas.

As Hermione stared after the two retreating forms of the children, she felt a twinge of guilt. She was supposed to be watching after them and making sure they didn't run into any harm. But as she watched Thomas push open the back doors leading to the garden, understanding suddenly dawned upon her.

It was as Pansy had told her: Thomas had begun his Death Eater training. As Pansy's words started to come back to her, Hermione began to piece together everything. His frequent disappearances, his mood shifts, his harsh attitude towards his sister...it was so obvious. After all, Hermione could still vividly remember everything Harry had told her back during their sixth year about how Draco kept disappearing at random times. This was, of course, not because Draco was undergoing training, for he had already become one by then. Nonetheless, Hermione couldn't help but feel that the two situations were similar.

This realisation brought about something else Hermione had forgotten: her promise to Pansy. With a sinking feeling, she remembered that she had yet to bring up the topic of intervening with the Dark Lord's decision on Thomas' behalf to Draco. Yet, she insisted to herself, there has not been very many opportunities for her to make her move -- after all, Draco too had taken to staying out of the house for long periods of time, returning for a day or two, then leaving once again. Hermione had not had an actual one-on-one conversation with him for quite a while, and while she was partly relieved for this, a small fraction of her missed him.

Not having anything else to do and feeling responsible for the safety of the children, Hermione began heading back down the stairs. She arrived on the first floor, moved swiftly over to the back doors, pushed them open, and stepped out into the garden.

Letting her instincts guide her, Hermione walked over to the shaded part of the woods at the back of the garden. She made sure to tread quietly, both so she could keep her ears alert for any sounds and so she wouldn't be caught by Thomas and anyone else he might be with.

Maybe he's not even here, she thought to herself in annoyance as she peered into a deserted clearing, maybe he left the --

Hermione's thoughts were suddenly interrupted when she saw a bright flash of red light to her left. Her muscles tensing instantly, she crept over to a nearby bush and carefully pushed aside the branches to watch through them.

There was Thomas, both hands clutching a wand that looked much too long for him, his small, childish face screwed up in concentration. Next to him stood a short, stout old man with a long black beard and small dark eyes. He seemed to be muttering instructions to Thomas under his breath.

Beads of sweat were dripping down Thomas' round cheeks but he gritted his teeth, shouted "Stupefy," and waved his wand at a nearby butterfly. The butterfly, upon being hit with the jet of red light, froze in mid-air then dropped to the ground. Thomas immediately broke into a grin.

"Good, good," murmured the wizard, sounding relieved. "Of course that's only basic knowledge, but I think you have accomplished enough today for your branding next week."

For a moment, Hermione could have sworn that the look that flitted across Thomas' features at this news was fear, but then he looked away and started to pocket the wand. However, the old man said "No!" very sharply at this and snatched the wand from Thomas' hands.

"This is not yours to keep, boy," he said angrily before pushing Thomas aside roughly and striding briskly away.

Gasping, Hermione realised he was headed her way just in time and threw herself behind a tree. As the stout old man pushed through the bushes, his long cloak caught on the branches. With a snarl, he yanked his cloak away, tearing one of the pockets off in the process. He did not seem to notice that the wand had also fallen out, and continued on.

Watching from her hiding spot, Hermione's keen eyes immediately caught sight of the fallen wand. A sense of daring crept up on her and she was suddenly overtaken with the desire to grab the wand and take it.

No, I mustn't, she told herself firmly as she watched Thomas trudge away in the opposite direction out of the corner of one eye while keeping the other eye on the wand. I could be killed for stealing a wand. And...and it's not like I can use magic anyway.

Hermione's fingers, however, were slowly edging towards the wand against her own will. Soon, they closed around the handle and, on their own accord, tucked the wand into the inside pocket of her robe.

An unexpected rush of adrenaline intermingled with guilt sped through Hermione, and she jumped to her feet. Fully aware that she had just committed a terrible crime but at the same time eager to test out the wand, she began walking hastily back to the manor, the wand knocking against her thigh every step she took.