Blood of My Blood

Hermione: My life stands in the level of you dreams,

Which I'll lay down.

Leontes: Your Actions are my dreams.

~Shakespeare, The Winter's Tale (1610-11) act 3, sc 2, l. 81

Chapter 9: Dreams

October 31, 2003

2:00 A.M.

Malfoy Manner

Hermione tiptoed through the library at Malfoy manor. She knew she was close, so close to finding the spell she needed.

4:30 A.M.

Malfoy Manner

Hermione had fallen asleep reading on her bed. Her face was pressed against the wrinkled pages of her notebook, the book she had been reading was in a similar state of disarray under her shoulder, and her night gown had rucked-up, exposing her white side and her stomach. The Baron peered down at her, shaking his head. He was not entirely sure what she was up to, but he was sure it was clever. His Hermione was always clever. He ran a cold ephemeral finger down her side. She shivered. The Baron scowled and cursed fate. If he were alive---if he were alive he would have her.

She rolled over in her and sleepily murmured "Severus" before quieting once again.

The Baron's scowl grew deeper. It was not that he was jealous of the potions master---well actually it was exactly that. He brushed a finger over one of her stray curls.

"Hermione?"

Her eyes fluttered open. "Baron?"

"You're wrinkling your book, and your notes."

Her eyes flew open. "Blast it." She jumped up and attempted to smooth out all of the pages she had wrinkled.

"What are you up to, Hermione."

She gave him that mischievous smile. "Nothing bad. Baron, nothing bad." Her face turned serious. Malfoy will be coming for me at 11:30. He sent me a note via flu." She chuckled. "I sent him one back telling him what I required for the spell." She nodded over to a pile of clothing sitting on a chair. "He sent a house-elf with everything a couple of hours ago." She smiled again---a toothy smile. "If I didn't know better I would guess that he was afraid of me."

"You are an unknown."

Hermione looked at him with a puzzled look on her face.

"Everyone is afraid of the unknown, my dear."

"Yes, I suppose." Hermione frowned. "I hope---I hope everything works out." She rubbed her brows.

"I'm sure it will."

"Well, I am glad that one of us is positive."

"I can just see me making it through this catastrophe, only to have Severus murder me."

The Baron's eyes narrowed. "Why would Severus murder you? What exactly are you planning, Hermione?"

She shrugged. "If---If I do make it through tonight, and the spell works you don't honestly think I am going to bear this curse alone. Honestly?"

"I'll always---"

"Yes, Baron, dearest, you will always be there, but maybe I want more."

"Yes, I imagine you would."

"I don't want to be alone."

"You---"

"I have been alone to long."

The Baron just shook his head; there was no reasoning with her sometimes. "As you wish, Hermione."

11:30 P.M.

Malfoy Manner

Hermione stepped out of the shower, dripping wet. She ran a towel through her hair, it wouldn't be dry by the time they left, but it didn't really matter. She let the towel fall to the floor, and padded across the room to the pile of clothes that the House Elf brought that morning. She slipped the time-turned over her head, and let it settle between her breasts. The white shift slid over her head. The linen was airy against her skin. She smiled into the mirror, and laughed. She looked like some wild ghost, a gray lady. She buckled the belt that held the ceremonial knife around her waist. Her fingers traced the designs in the leather, until the met the scarab of the knife. With a hissed breath she withdrew it, to check its edge. She ran her finger across the edge, and blood welled, it was sharp enough that she barely felt a burning sensation. Sharp enough indeed. Hermione looked into the mirror again, and wondered if she could do what she needed to do in order to survive. Could she--- could she really do what she needed to do? It did not bear thinking about. Sometimes all that mattered was survival. Everything else followed.

The door creaked open; and the cherry wood framed Malfoy's face. His eyes were cold, but they no longer scared her. "Are you ready?"

"Always." Hermione looked at him through slitted eyes. Pity someone so beautiful outside should be so--- well, if not evil certainly cruel inside. What a pity, what a waste. She took the hand that he offered, and they disapparated with a startling pop.

11:45 P.M.

Stonehenge

Wiltshire

Hermoine wished she had worn shoes. She grimaced. They had not been able to apparate directly into the henge, as it was much like Hogwarts in this respect. It's anti-apparation wards, however, pre-dated Hogwarts' by a millinium. So they hiked, and thankfully Malfoy was quite. They reached the chain-link fence around the henge's perimeter. Hermione eyed it dubiously; and shivered. She could feel the hum of the stones already--- had felt it since they started their hike, but now it was so strong it made her bones ache.

Malfoy sneered. "Stupid muggles." Hermoine rolled her eyes as he blasted a hole in the fence. Such a waste.

"Must you be so..." Hermoine clamped her mouth shut, as Malfoy arched one eyebrow.

"Must I be so what, Granger?"

She took in a deep breath, and stepped through the hole in the fence. "Nothing, Malfoy. Just drop it." She reached the edge of the circle, felt the pull of the stones, closed her eyes, and took one steadying breath before entering. She fingered the dagger. Ritual magic---blood magic for that matter--- was not something they taught at Hogwarts. It was not something that polite company discussed at all. It was on the very fine border---it could be a Dark art. Hermione frowned for the first time. What she was about to do was Dark magic without question. Any magic that resulted in death...

She felt him enter the circle behind her. Hermione drew her wand from her sleeve in one swift movement and whirled on Lucius. "Stupefacio!"

Hermoine stowed her wand back in her sleeve. What to do? She took a deep breath and walked to the alter-stone drawing her knife she began to cut. She cupped her palm and the blood flowed into her hand. Flowed and flowed and flowed. She took a breath and began almost in a sing song voice...

"Je suis le sang

Boisson de moi profondément

et donnez-moi l'éternité dans le retour

pour mon sacrifice

Vidangez-le profondément

et donnez-moi l'éternité dans le retour"

Before she finished the last word she let her palm drop onto the stone. It drank down her blood like terra cotta. She closed her eyes, not wanting to look at Malfoy. She couldn't watch, and then the pain came and it was all that she could do to keep her own feet under her. All she could do. The stones roared about her. It she could have moved her hand she would surely have covered her ears. Her eyes flew open, seeing only red, and the blood moon beating down on her; and then there was nothing but velvety blackness and silence.