Lost and Found

Chapter 16 - Mistaken

Hermione sat outside unhappily, knowing somewhere inside her that it was perfectly natural for Lupin and Sirius to want to resolve things alone, because they'd been like brothers- but why did she have a sinking feeling that the end result was going to be something she didn't like?

With a sigh, she leaned back against the wall and let her head fall against it tiredly, closing her eyes. She hadn't really slept last night anyway - the memory of how utterly stupid she'd acted had permeated her mind, keeping her awake. She was sure there were shadows beneath her eyes.

Perhaps... perhaps it wouldn't be so awful to keep her eyes closed a little longer... after all, they might be in there a while...

She was vaguely aware of sliding to the ground slowly, her upright stance leaning precariously but her mind too suffocated by the warm, wonderful allure of sleep to care-

Someone swore, and a hand grabbed her shoulder, steadying her.

Hermione muttered something tired. Possibly, "What're you doing?"

"Keeping you from knocking yourself out, Granger. I'd be obligated to carry you to the hospital wing, and neither of us would like that much."

She opened one eye in surprise - then let the other open too. Oh - oh, this was not good. The last thing she wanted to deal with right now. And she was too tired to pretend to be nice, unfortunately, but he had just kept her from, as he so elegantly put it, knocking herself out.

"Oh," she managed. "Thanks?"

Malfoy drew back his hand, pushing the hair back from his eyes, where it had fallen. Apparently she wasn't the only one with that problem. "Try not to fall asleep in the middle of hallways, then." He looked at the door beside her with a confused expression. "You come to see Lupin?"

"No," she said acidly. "I came because I wanted to fall asleep against this particular wall. Fond memories of it at Hogwarts, you know."

Instead of having the intended effect on him, her words simply made him smile wryly. "He isn't there, then, I take it. Or, could it be, perhaps, that your dead friend is inside, and he's left you all by your lonesome while he catches up on good times?"

By her scowl, he seemed to tell he'd hit the mark. "Oh for God's sake, Granger, you don't have to sit outside like a good little kitten. Come on."

At her suddenly confused expression, he grabbed her by the arm. "I do have an office as well, you realize? Tea, even, though I hardly drink the stuff."

"Hot chocolate?" she found herself saying hopefully. Hermione tried to blink away her sleepiness as she transversed the hallways (or, actually, was half-dragged through them).

He stopped, surprised. "Well - yes, actually." And pulled his wand, swiping it once across the door in front of them. It opened easily, and he stepped through it.

"You keep your classroom locked?" she asked.

"Keeps the snogging couples out," he snorted. "They leave chocolate stains, crumbs, wrappers, one time I even found a little singing necklace. Badly singing, of course."

"Of course," Hermione agreed vaguely. She watched as he walked toward another door, to the back of the room. Brilliant sunlight streamed in through the windows, and she realized he'd taken the old Defense Against the Dark Arts room for his own. Ah - must mean Snape still had the dungeons.

He murmured a few words, and entered the door, waiting patiently for her to enter. Hermione felt herself become slightly unnerved at this behavior, but did so, not wanting to seem rude.

Malfoy left the door open behind him, sitting down in a chair behind the desk, where a few scraps of parchment rested in messy piles, red marks dotting them. The man swept them aside irritably before gesturing at two mugs to the side. They floated to a small tap in the wall, which spouted something very familiar and very soothing scented into them. Hermione, still somewhat drowsy, caught hers as it settled into her hand, taking in a quick mouthful to wake herself up - then spitting and gasping, immediately fully awake.

"That- that's hot!" she said as he blew gently on his.

Malfoy simply smirked and sipped at his cup. "Why yes. I believe it is."

"You could've warned me," she muttered. Hermione touched the tip of her tongue to the roof of her mouth and winced. That would sting for a bit.

"Why?" he asked her. "You're an adult."

She shot him a dirty look before cooling the chocolate down with her wand and sipping it carefully. But as she looked at him, her eyes were drawn to a small bruise on his left arm, where his robe sleeve had slipped-

Hermione's hand shot out, and her other one set the mug down on the desk. Malfoy cursed as her fingers dug into his arm, pushing back the sleeve.

"You- I don't believe it- you were-" Her eyes widened, and she found the words wouldn't quite come out. No, the memories were too painful, as she remembered the marks, burning dark black in front of her, taunting her-

"Death Eater?" he sneered. "What did you expect? That I'd join the circus when I came of age?"

Hermione's fingers tightened on his arm, and she felt her nails dig into his skin slightly. "You're horrible," she whispered in a choked voice. "And I felt bad for you."

Something inexplicable flickered in his expression, but it was quickly replaced by his casual disdain for her. "Mind letting go? You'll draw blood if you keep up like that."

She drew back her hand as though she'd been burned. "Why?" she demanded.

And Malfoy stared at her, his face quickly turning dangerous. She realized belatedly that she'd set her wand down on the desk after cooling her drink - he grabbed it, and the door behind her slammed shut with an awful finality.

"You seem to trust me a great deal for someone that used to hate me so much," he breathed, leaning forward. His face was inches from hers, and the warm air sent a shiver of fear down her spine. "I could have brought you in here to kill you. Or worse." And now it was his hand clenched on her forearm, wrenching her to her feet and banging her knees on the desk. Hermione stopped herself from crying out, but the pain was there. She glared at him, trying to pull the arm from his grasp, but his fingers only tightened, and the fear inside her grew.

Then, he was pushing her back, and she fell into her chair again with wide eyes as he threw her wand at her. "Idiot," he muttered. "That's probably why they tortured you. Let them right in the front door, did you? Thought they were carolers?"

Hermione stared at him without comprehending, clutching her wand to her desperately.

"The reason I have this mark," he told her quietly. "Is because of a mistake I made. I should think you know enough about mistakes."

She felt tears gather in her eyes, but forced them back. "Why didn't you get rid of it then?" she asked, managing only a hoarse whisper. "I know you can. Snape got rid of his."

The corner of Malfoy's mouth turned upward. "Because it was my life, Granger. I don't hide my mistakes. They'll still be there, even if I pretend they're not."

Hermione rubbed at her arm, but the tears weren't going away. Damn him.

"I did bring you in here for a reason, though," he told her.

She looked up in surprise, something in her stomach clenching uneasily as he sat down heavily again.

"What's that?" she asked. "To try and terrify me to death?"

Malfoy snorted. "Hardly." Then, he looked at her penetratingly. "Why did you get me this?"

His hand was clenching something in it. She realized it was the small silk handkerchief she'd bought him, with his initials embroidered on it.

Hermione sighed unhappily. "If I'd known it would've made you do that, I wouldn't have done it," she muttered.

Malfoy's fist tightened on it. "Why, though?"

She glared at him. "Because I thought you'd like it, damn it. I get everyone I know something for Christmas."

His face was priceless. And unexpected.

"Just- just because?" he demanded. "No other reason but that you know me and you were getting people things?"

Hermione's face tightened, and she stood. "If you don't mind opening your door, Malfoy?"

His brow knit in puzzlement, and almost repentance. "No, no," he told her with a scowl. "Let me look at your arm, you'll have bruises-"

"I can handle it on my own, thank you," she gritted through her teeth. Hermione glared, willing it to open. "I'm an adult, remember?"

"Yes, well-" He was striding around the desk now. "-that big black knight of yours would tear me to pieces. I'm a potions master, woman, I've got them sitting right here, right now, it'll take two seconds."

Hermione made an exasperated noise and fell into her chair. "Fine. If you must, fix my arm, but then I'm going."

He pulled something from a cupboard - a small jar - and unscrewed the lid. The pungent smell of vanilla filled the air, and she found her eyes drooping again as her adrenaline wore off.

Malfoy knelt on one knee, pulling her sleeve up and frowning at the small dark spots that were already blossoming on her arm. Hermione sighed and closed her eyes, expecting some kind of stinging monstrosity-

But all she felt was a tiny warm tingle as the sweet-smelling concoction touched her skin. And his fingers were on her arm, rubbing it in hesitatingly. The warmth spread from the bruises, which were slowly disappearing, and soothed her raw nerves and slightly aching head. A kind of tired contentment overcame her.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

Hermione blinked sleepily. "What?" she asked in mild surprise.

"I thought you'd done it to have a go at me. There's a lot of people... there's a lot of them that think I never really changed sides. Said I'd stayed on the sidelines to see who'd win. I don't use my full initials anymore, only the students get to call me Malfoy. The name gets me into too much trouble."

She looked at him with annoyance. "How on earth would I know that?" she asked.

But his fingers were still rubbing little circles on her arm, and she found she was much too sedated to care much. "I don't know," he admitted. "But it's not like we have the best history. You have to admit, a gift out of nowhere..."

Hermione was quiet for a moment. "You didn't have a chance to spy or even do anything remotely heroic," she said. "It- it ended the same month."

He looked away from her gaze. "Partially true." And his fingers left her arm, and she almost regretted it. "I managed one thing. After the war, that is."

She blinked. "What was that?"

He settled back into his chair, and said quietly, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Try me. You're looking at someone who went through the terrible seven years where every Dark Arts teacher was new and strange."

"And six were evil, too," he said, his mouth twitching. "Fine. I was the one that told about the attack on your house."

She came awake again, eyes wide. "What?" she said.

He merely leaned back in his chair. "I did tell you."

Hermione shook her head. "But how- how did you find out?"

Malfoy frowned. "A few of the Death Eaters came to where I was living. Nott and Avery. Asked if I wanted to avenge my father."

"And you - you didn't?" she asked, trying not to sound too incredulous.

He snorted. "It's not like he wasn't blatantly ignoring the law when they killed him. Even I'm not that stupid. Besides which, I can't see what you had to do with any of that - far as I know, you were busy studying for your bloody NEWTs when they brought him in."

"I was," she said quietly. "But what did you-"

"Tell them?" he asked. His smile spread, as though he were relishing the memory. "I was a tad drunk. I told them to go fuck themselves while I drank some more firewhisky."

She gasped in delight. "You didn't!"

"I did," he informed her quite coolly. "And then it penetrated about a quarter hour later what they were actually talking about. I owled Dumbledore, then proceeded to get as trashed as I could."

Well. Well, hardly the most daring rescue or anything, but-

"Thank you," she told him.

He shifted uncomfortably. "Don't get any bright ideas. It wasn't for you."

"I know," she said. "But it's sort of customary to thank someone for saving your life."

"I didn't," he muttered. "They got away. And I heard a muggle saved you."

"They didn't get away," she said slowly. "I- I guess unofficially, they were killed." She swallowed. "But please don't tell anyone. It- it would be really bad for..." Hermione trailed off, not wanting to reveal any more than she had.

His eyes glittered at the news. "Wonderful. Bastards got what was coming to them." Then, completely ignoring her last phrase as though it had never been said, he pointed lazily at her cup of hot chocolate with his wand. A hiss of steam escaped it. "Don't let it get cold again," he told her.

Hermione looked at him suspiciously for a moment before testing it with her finger. It was... a little over warm, perhaps. But nothing that couldn't happen on accident. She sipped at it again.

"I think I've got to get you something better for Christmas," she told him with a wry smile.

Malfoy shook his head. "No. I- I like the handkerchief."

She blinked sleepily, and gave a yawn. "I feel like I haven't slept for a week," she muttered.

"Well," he said, "You have been housing a convict. That would make me a bit twitchy too."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ex-convict, thanks much." Then yawned again. "Malfoy, did you put something in this-"

Mm. This chair was much too comfortable.

"As a matter of fact - yes."

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"Hermione?"

Sirius looked outside the door, confused. Then, he blinked. And blinked again.

"Moony - she's gone."

Lupin strode from the room quickly, turning his head around the corner to look. "Well. So she is."

Sirius thought about panicking - but instead he turned suspiciously to Lupin. "You know something."

His friend smiled innocently. "She's at Hogwarts for the first time in years. There are a few people that have been wanting to talk to her, I'd expect."

Sirius frowned. "I'm not entirely sure she's going to like that."

Lupin shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure she'll have a choice. She's been hiding too long."

And for the first time in a while, Sirius found himself disagreeing with his old friend.

"She has reasons," he said in a dark, slightly angry tone. Clinging to him like he could erase it all, burying herself in his arms as though she could hide forever... "It's all good and heroic to say you can't run forever, but that's not how it works in real life. Some things you just don't want to catch you."

He never wanted to see her cry again, but he knew, somewhere inside him, that he would.

"You sound like you've got experience with this sort of thing," Lupin observed unflinchingly.

"Maybe I do," Sirius said. "Why does it matter?"

The other Marauder regarded him seriously. "Because as it stands, you are her only link to the outside world. If you decide to destroy that, then I might never be able to visit her house and have strawberries again."

It might have been funny, under any other circumstances. But the levity in his tone made it clear that this was precisely what he was afraid of.

"She gave you a scare," Sirius stated flatly.

Lupin didn't deny it. He simply stared at him tiredly, already looking just a little older. "We've lost too many, Padfoot," he said wearily. "And now that two of you have come back to me... I don't want you to leave again."

Sirius sighed. "Look, even if I did have some kind of hold over her, it's probably gone now. You always did tell me I was an idiot, and now we've got proof..."

"Oh?" Lupin asked.

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"Ohhhh..." Hermione groaned as she woke up. "Not you."

Dumbledore gave her a slightly reproving look, but she could tell he was amused by her reaction. "Yes, Miss Granger, it is I. I should think, however, that this talk we are about to have has been delayed long enough. Normally, it would have taken place in my office at the end of the year or, in the more severe cases, in the hospital wing. It would have even done had I spoken to you at St. Mungo's or the Headquarters. Do you know why I did not do this?"

Hermione found herself glaring at him and leaning back unhappily into the leather chair in front of his desk, where once she might have cowed like the respectable student she was. "No, I do not. Nor do I particularly wish to know - you've gotten what you wanted from me, haven't you?"

Dumbledore sighed, and one of the many golden trinkets on his desk reflected a shaft of light onto his glasses, making them shine disconcertingly. "Because, my dear woman, I did not want to trouble you more than I already had. I respected that you needed space and I gave it to you."

"Do you want an award?" she asked him bitterly. "Lord knows you've got enough, and my undying gratitude won't quite rank up there with Order of Merlin-"

"Now, now," he said, but there was a slightly pained look on his face. "You're starting to sound like Severus. We long ago decided between us that he was the only one allowed to be so blatantly disagreeable; it would tarnish his image to have a Gryffindor show him up."

Hermione sighed. "Yes, well, maybe he rubbed off on me in the ten minutes we spent together killing Death Eaters."

Her old headmaster was not put off by her rancor, though. "I was going to speak to you at the funeral, Miss Granger, but curiously, you decided not to come. And that has complicated things drastically."

"Got another death-defying mission for me?" she muttered. She kicked at the desk irritably.

"No," he stated. "I meant what I said about living your life. Unfortunately, you seem to have only just now taken this to heart, and if I am not wrong, you are planning to hide yourself once again in your secluded home once your new charge gets back onto his feet."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "So what if I am? This may not have occurred to you, but while you do have quite a bit of influence on the wizarding world, you can't touch the muggle one. And as I am no longer your student, I am not ruled by any complaints about my behavior you may have. Are you going to expel me, Headmaster?"

The old man smiled at her. "You have, of course, hit right on the mark - as usual, Miss Granger, impeccable. However, I did not bring you here to talk to you as your old Headmaster. I brought you here to advise you as a friend, though the friendship I draw upon is now somewhat in question."

"You set us out like bait," she said quietly. "I have no obligation or intention of listening to your advice."

"Ah, but now you are suggesting that I allowed Death Eaters into Hogwarts?"

She glared at him. "No, of course not! Well - yes. I don't know!"

Albus Dumbledore shook his head and a hand went to his forehead. "Perhaps the fault was mine for being too complacent, or too busy, as I had just been coming back from Arthur Weasley's office at the time. Or, alternately, I could have been looking elsewhere for Mr. Riddle's next move. But the Death Eaters that you encountered had cast the Imperius curse on both Seamus Finnigan and Hannah Abbot while they were at Hogsmeade - as you well know. What you do not know is that the passage those two opened was one I had not known about... one you are quite familiar with, if I'm not mistaken."

Hermione stared at him, not hearing, not even wanting to comprehend...

"I never did find out, I'm afraid," he said gently, "why you three were out that night."

Her bottom lip trembled dangerously. "Because we wanted to find the Mirror of Erised," she whispered. "We wanted to see what peace would look like."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "I must admit that I did fail you quite spectacularly, and at the most inappropriate time possible. But I must change the subject, for there are things to understand other than the past. You performed some kind of magic to rescue our heroic Mr. Black some time in the last week."

She gasped. "How did you-"

"Let me ask you a question first, because I know how dearly you love to learn. Why do wizards manifest powers before they are taught how - before they even have wands to react with them?"

Hermione tried to quiet the voices inside that were clamoring for immediate answers. She had practice at it, but it had been a while. "Because the magic is everywhere, the wand is just the tool to use it. It reacts to strong emotions instead of the magical substances in the wand, using them as the replacement catalyst-"

Dumbledore tilted his head and smiled in that way that meant she was wrong, and she stopped in puzzlement. "Not quite, Miss Granger," he said. "I have discovered quite a few things in my time while working with some of the brightest young minds in this world, not the least of which is that emotions are a great influence on every spell that a wizard casts, even while he or she has a wand. You've noticed it too - in your classmate, Neville Longbottom. Often cited as absolutely hopeless, written off as a veritable squib. And yet, by the end of his fifth year, he had taken out two Death Eaters under unfair odds. And by the end of his seventh, he was the savior of the wizarding world and the victor in a duel with one of the most powerful dark wizards of our millennium."

Hermione's mouth dropped, but she quickly regained herself. "How do you know that?" she demanded.

"Because," he said quietly, "our Mr. Longbottom did come to the funeral. He had the talk with me that I had thought to have with you. No one outside this room, apart from Severus Snape and Neville Longbottom, knows the truth of that night." She swallowed, trying to take this in, but he was continuing. "The truth of the matter is that the magic does not lie outside the wizard at all."

Dumbledore's glasses glimmered in the golden light.

"The wizard is the magic."

Hermione stared at him. He couldn't possibly be saying-

"We are, all of us, the equivalent of the magical beasts that we once discriminated against. Our magic is drawn from us and from our needs of the moment. And so it was a surprise, and at the same time not much of one, that one night last week I found myself suddenly unable to cast the simplest spell." His wand pointed lazily at a spinning gyroscope, and the object rose gently into the air to fly into his hand. "Obviously, a full recovery. But what, I wondered, could be the cause?"

The gyroscope floated toward her slowly, still spinning. Hermione caught it in surprise, but it continued to dance, balancing perfectly on the back of her hand.

"Me?" she asked, incredulous.

He smiled at her. "You, yes. But me as well. Magic will always be magic, regardless of how we try to tame it. Normally, we restrict it so much that it can do very little on its own. You, however, did a fairly dangerous thing, and gave it very wide parameters. Could you enlighten me as to the particular spell you used?"

She swallowed, and choked out something.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"I - the lost and found spell. Mihi requienda-"

"I will not ask you to tell me the last," he said gently. "But at least five wizards have spent a lifetime trying to create the exact spell to bring someone forth from beyond the Veil. It would take a great deal of power, in theory. Even with your need, the spell could not find enough magic within you - and so it seems my guilt made me surrender my own power unwittingly."

Guilt? she mouthed, incredulous.

"Indeed." His expression softened. "Two of the things I most regret in my life - the death of one of my favorite students and the seclusion of another."

Hermione felt something in her stomach drop heavily as she looked into his wizened blue eyes. "I'm sorry," she said.

He waved his hand disparagingly. "We both have our own things to be sorry for. Apologizing will not mend things, and continuing to feel bad will make them worse. For now, I simply wish to ask that you keep in touch and that you open up to other people a bit more. Ask - not demand, not threaten, and not guilt you into doing so."

She nodded slowly, beginning to understand. Then, she rose and held out her hand hesitatingly.

Dumbledore grasped it firmly, shaking it.

"Merry Christmas," she said with a smile.

He smiled back. "Merry Christmas to you as well." And he looked over her shoulder, as though seeing something through the door that she could not. "I am sorry to have kept you so long. Do go and give my apologies to your friends."

She grinned. "I should hope they've waited at least this long for me. They're probably still inside talking, though."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in a way she seemed to remember fondly. "You might be surprised."