Cherchez La Femme

Cherchez la Femme 6: The Lint of Love

"The lint of love comes from the dust of confusion." – Cibo Matto

Faced with a wand, her arms full of books, Hermione hadn’t been in much of a position to refuse Draco’s offer of a ride in his roadster. She obeyed him, and they zoomed off before she even had a chance to fasten her seat-belt. Draco had barely rounded the corner when he fiddled with a switch on the dashboard, and the car jumped from the congested streets of central London to an open motorway in an instant.

Ignoring this flagrant violation of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts code, Hermione said angrily, "I don’t know what you want from me, but you’d better let me go – it’s late already, Ron will come looking for me."

"It’s not late," countered Draco, hitting the accelerator. "Decent people are only just finishing their cocktails before dinner."

"What would you know about decent people?" she spat, eyes on the road, which was zipping by uncomfortably fast.

"Enough to know Ron won’t come looking for you." He turned and gave her an eerie smile. "Haven’t been spending much time at home lately, have you? Neither has Weasley. Oh, no. He’s been much too busy with other things," he said softly.

"Would you watch the road?" Hermione demanded.

Draco returned his gaze to the motorway before him. "Frankly, I can’t blame him. I can well see how you’ve managed to drive away every man who's shown an interest in you – first Potter, now Weasley. Face it, Granger, everything your mother told you was true: men don’t want a woman as smart you."

"Shut up. My mother never told me any such rubbish." Hermione looked at the heavy books in her lap and was tempted to bring one down on Draco’s head, but then the car would crash. And it didn’t take an advanced understanding of physics to know their speed would produce a spectacular collision should they hit anything stationary. "Where are we going?"

"Just for a drive. Oh, and don’t get any clever ideas about Disapparating," he warned. "I've charmed the car so you can't Apparate or Disapparate from it - an added touch I thought you'd appreciate."

Hermione scowled. "Where’d you get this thing, anyway? Never thought I’d see the day when a Malfoy was reduced to using a Muggle car to get around."

But Draco was unperturbed. "As I’m sure Potter has told you, my parents have been forced to live as Muggles as part of their immunity deal with the Ministry. Father bought me this a few months ago, so I could visit them without drawing attention to them."

Hermione turned suspicious eyes on him. "But an enchanted car popping out from nowhere won't draw attention to them?"

"I only use magic in select situations."

"Weren't you officially barred from using magic, along with your parents?" she asked.

"Oh, no. There were never any charges made against me. Besides, even had there been, there wasn’t much anyone could have done. I was a minor at the time my parents were charged, remember? No Azkaban for me." He smiled at her.

"Then why are you driving this thing?"

The smile faded. His voice sneering, Draco said, "It worked wonders getting hold of you. Weren’t exactly expecting me to show up with this, were you?"

"I guess not," Hermione admitted, glowering and crossing her arms. "Why don’t you tell me why you really wanted to see me. I’m sure there are other people you could use to sharpen your wit."

"So you admit I have wit?" Draco glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Well, something that passes for it, I suppose." Hermione bounced back against the seat.

"Coming from you, that’s practically a compliment. Admit it, doesn’t spending all that time with the wholesome Weasleys wear on your nerves?"

"What have you got against the Weasleys?" demanded Hermione.

"We don’t have enough time to indulge that question, but I will tell you one thing. That boyfriend of yours is stirring up a lot of trouble, trouble that doesn’t need to be made. Typical. Whole clan can’t keep their noses out of other people’s business. All that holier than thou crap wears thin after a while, doesn’t it?"

"I don’t know what you mean."

Draco snorted. "Of course you do. And you're going to tell me everything you know."

* * * * *

"Ginny, what exactly are you trying to say?" Harry sat uneasily in Ginny's flat, trying to decipher her evasive words and actions. For the past couple of days she had been distant and when he finally asked her about it, she'd started pacing around the room speaking in non-sequiturs.

She stopped pacing, took a deep breath and turned to face Harry. "I don't think we should see each other any more. I mean, see as in dating kind of see. I know we have to see each other at work." She groaned inwardly at her own words, knowing she was babbling.

"Why not? Look, I'm sorry I told Hermione about us. I should have been more discreet. I won't do anything that would jeopardize your position at work. Besides, you've completed probation, you're not under my supervision anymore - it's not like I'm taking advantage of a subordinate."

"Easy for you to say," scoffed Ginny, turning away. "You have more seniority than I do – hell, you have a magical holiday named after you. We’re not exactly equals."

"Is that really what’s bothering you?" Harry tried to catch her eye. "Have I done something to make you feel I don’t see you as my equal?"

Ginny continued to avoid looking at him. "It’s not so much that," she admitted. "I just don’t see how we can work together if we’re, you know…" Now she glanced up. Harry still appeared puzzled, and Ginny continued. "You know what our work is like - it's hard to assess a situation rationally when the person you're sleeping with might be in danger."

"Well, I'll just have to make sure you're never in danger," smiled Harry.

She didn't return the smile. "You can't do that, Harry," she said softly. "Nobody can. Besides, that's not the only reason."

"What do you mean?"

Ginny started pacing again, twisting her hands. She didn't want to continue, had hoped he would find her work conflict reason enough. "I'm not ready to get into another serious relationship again."

"I understand why you might feel this way," he assured her. "I'll give you as much room as you need." He got to his feet, came to her side and laid a hand on her arm. "I really want to give this a chance."

Ginny sighed. "I just - there isn't -" she stammered. "I can't do it, Harry," she finally said.

Harry removed his hand. "Can't do what?"

"Try to have a relationship with you."

Hurt and understanding spread across his features and he asked stiffly, "So the other night was just a one-time thing for you? Just for fun?"

Lie to him, Ginny told herself. It was much easier to leave somebody if you were angry, as she well knew. Forcing her voice to sound calm and nonchalant, she shrugged and said, "More or less. Like I said before, I don't want to get into anything serious." She made herself stare into his eyes and added, "I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea. I didn’t think you’d take one night together so seriously."

"You’re really unbelievable, you know that?" Harry shook his head and took a step back. He didn't look angry so much as crushed, and Ginny wondered if she'd done the right thing after all. She had hoped he might take the opening and agree he hadn’t wanted anything more, either.

"Don't get me wrong, I had a good time. But I don't think we should try to make something bigger out of it."

Now the anger kicked in. Harry flushed and he swiftly crossed the room to the front door. "Then I certainly won't disturb you any longer. Good-night, Ginny." He yanked open the door and slammed it shut behind him, without looking back.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, Ron was proving Draco wrong. He did notice Hermione's absence, at least in part because Crookshanks was meowing hungrily and wrapping himself around Ron's legs, a sure sign of desperation.

"Don't look at me," grumbled Ron. "I don't know where she is. Can't believe she'd forget about you, though."

He glanced at the clock on the wall, a gift from his mother. She had uncomfortably presented it to them when they moved in together and like the clock at the Burrow, there was a hand each for Ron and Hermione. The two of them had added a few indicators of their own, and Hermione's hand currently pointed to "Gallivanting around the countryside." Ron frowned briefly; he'd put that one on as a joke, knowing Hermione wasn't the gallivanting type. Still, the way she'd been acting lately it seemed possible she'd decided to go out, probably with Harry.

Scowling, Ron settled into his favourite chair and switched on the Wizards Wireless to catch the Quidditch scores. He was just moaning over Chudley's loss when someone knocked at the door.

It was Harry and Ron had rarely seen him look so put out. "Get you a beer?" he asked, already heading for the fridge.

Harry drained most of the can in silence and with haste.

"So, what's wrong?" Ron finally ventured.

"Nothing." Harry glowered into the low fire. His first instinct had been to come over and talk to Ron and Hermione. Well, Hermione really. It now seemed too awkward to talk to Ron about Ginny.

Ron regarded Harry curiously. "Thought you might be out with Hermione, actually," he offered, gesturing to the clock. "She's not back yet. Maybe she and Gin are having a girls' night out."

"Don't think so," was Harry's terse reply.

Still puzzled, Ron continued to focus on Harry. Then his expression brightened and he asked, "Fancy a night on the beer? As you can see, Hermione's gallivanting about and frankly you look like you could use a few drinks."

Harry didn't disagree and followed Ron to the fireplace, where they set off for the Leaky Cauldron.

Watching them disappear, Crookshanks gave a disapproving mew. He jumped up on the mantel and stalked along it, tail whipping madly, sending a number of breakable items crashing to the hearth below.

* * * * *

"What do you think I know?" asked Hermione, still in Malfoy's dark car.

"What's he told you about that Delacour girl? I know they've got her hidden somewhere and she must've talked. Now that damn Weasley is sending all sorts of people to bother my parents. And let me tell you, they are in no condition to answer the barrage of questions your boyfriend pesters them with. They've suffered, too, you know."

"I don't know anything about Gabrielle Delacour," answered Hermione truthfully. Ron hadn't talked to her about the case, partly because they were hardly speaking to each other these days but also because Gabrielle's statements were highly confidential.

"Don't play me for a fool," hissed Draco. "Between Weasley and Potter you must be right in the thick of things."

"Hardly. I should think your father could tell you everything you need to know. He's the one who kidnapped her, isn't he?" Hermione looked at Draco in the darkness. The illuminated dashboard reflected off his face with a reddish, unreal glow.

"My father was under the influence of You-Know-Who, as was my mother." Draco's voice rose a pitch and the higher tone, combined with the weird red glow gave him an unhinged look. "As they have testified before the Ministry, it was the Dark Lord who orchestrated everything!"

"Give me a break, Draco," snorted Hermione. "Your parents knew full well what they were doing. They've been getting away with murder - literally - ever since we were teenagers." She twisted in her seat and glared at him. "I hope whatever Ron's office is doing, that they bring your parents down. Make them pay for what they did."

Draco's fingers tightened around the steering wheel at her words but he stared straight ahead and said nothing for several minutes. Then, his voice very soft but perfectly clear he said, "You want to watch your mouth, Granger. Don't make this harder on yourself or you'll regret it, I promise."

"Is that supposed to scare me, Draco? After your earlier show of wit I'd expect more than idle threats from you."

"It's far from an idle threat, I assure you. Take any action against me - or fail to put an end to your boyfriend's insufferable curiosity - and I'll personally make certain he's in a world of pain." He took his eyes off the road briefly to look at her, adding, "And you know I can do that, don't you?"

Although Hermione had recently entertained thoughts of inflicting bodily harm on Ron herself, it was one thing to think such things towards one's own boyfriend in a fit of pique. Hearing Draco Malfoy - whom Hermione knew was perfectly capable of performing the Cruciatus curse - threaten Ron with harm was quite another, and sent a shiver down her back.

Hermione swallowed the retort that was on her lips. She hadn't been that disturbed by Draco up to now; he'd seemed concerned with not crossing the line enough to put his own or his parents' immunity in jeopardy and thus had done nothing more than threaten her. But he now regarded her with an expression of such malevolence that Hermione looked away, and wondered just how far Draco intended to go as they continued to drive into the night.

* * * * *

Many drinks later, Ron and Harry stumbled back into Ron's flat, each expecting to see Hermione. The only one to greet them, however, was Crookshanks. With increasingly distraught mews, he trotted from the living room to his dish in the kitchen and back again.

"Think he'd eat owl treats?" asked Ron.

"I think he'd eat anything from the looks of it." Despite having consumed more than his usual share of drinks, Harry felt concern cutting through his alcohol-induced haze. "Ron, where's Hermione? It's after midnight. Even she doesn't work this late."

Ron's eyes travelled to the clock. "Still gallivanting, I guess." He shrugged and disappeared into the kitchen to try and appease the hungry cat.

"I think something's wrong," Harry persisted, following him into the kitchen and slumping into a chair at the table.

"Well, we did have a fight a few weeks ago. Been a bit tense around here ever since, to tell you the truth," admitted Ron slurringly.

"What?" Harry frowned across the table at his friend. "No, I mean, something's wrong now. I think something bad has happened to Hermione."

"Can't be that bad. Her clock hand isn't on Mortal Peril."

"Just because she's not in mortal peril doesn't mean there isn't something wrong. You need to get some finer gradations of danger on that thing." Harry shot Ron a disgusted look. "And don't you care if she's okay? I know you had a fight, but what's new? It's what you two do."

"This was different." Ron shifted in his seat. "Frankly, I thought she might be with you tonight."

"With me? Why?"

Ron shook his head. "Long story."

Harry watched Ron intently, as if hoping the harder he stared the better he'd be able to read Ron's mind. "There hasn't been anything between us in years, you know that."

"I'm not so sure," replied Ron. "At least, I'm not sure she's completely over you."

"That's ridiculous. She moved in with you, Ron."

"Don’t be surprised if she moves back out. Wannanotherdrink?" Ron lurched towards a cupboard and grabbed a highball glass.

"No thanks." Harry watched Crookshanks gnawing on the odd assortment of food Ron had given him. "I'm going to find her, and then you two can work this out."

He stood up and began walking for the door, wishing he had a bit better motor coordination. "I can't believe you'd just let her go like that," he added, stopping and turning back to Ron.

"Harry, you're drunk. What're you going to do, get on your broom and fly around looking for her? Just have a seat. I'm sure she'll be along soon."

"I'm an Auror. I have a whole tracking network at my disposal," pointed out Harry with as much dignity as possible, considering he had an unsightly beer stain down the front of his robes, which were hanging off his shoulders and looking worse for the wear.

"Great. Knock yourself out." Ron remained seated and waved Harry to the front landing, where he Disapparated with a louder than usual pop.

* * * * *

Harry had hoped a quick visit to the Auror offices and deployment of a Seeking charm would easily locate her. But the visit wasn't quick, and Harry's anxiety over Hermione's whereabouts increased in direct proportion to his increasing sobriety as the hours passed. Only a few things, such as Dark Magic, could block the Seeking charms used by his office. A little before dawn, the charm finally showed her to be right outside the British Museum. Harry promptly Apparated to the location to find her sitting against the high walls, knees to her chest and looking dazed.

"Harry," she said on seeing him and she hadn't even minded his stained shirt or the fact that he hadn't shaved in twenty-four hours as he pulled her tightly against him in a relieved hug.

"What happened to you?" he asked, prising her fingers from his wrinkled shirt and smoothing back her hair. "I was with Ron tonight - er, last night - and you never came home. He said you two had some kind of fight?"

"It wasn't that," Hermione gasped. "I left work a little before eight and Draco Malfoy turned up in a car he'd enchanted and held me at wandpoint and made me get in." She took a breath then continued, her voice returning to her more normal tone, "He's convinced I know what Gabrielle has said about his parents, threatened me if Ron takes further action again Lucius and Narcissa. Harry, what is going on?" She finally asked, looking at him.

"Well, Gabrielle's memories have produced some spectacularly incriminating evidence against Lucius Malfoy. That's what's going on. Lucky you didn't really know anything."

"Oh yeah, really lucky. He kept me out all night, demanding I tell him everything. I guess he finally believed me because he brought me back here. But towards the end he did start to scare me, Harry. He seems completely obsessed with stopping Ron, and I think he'd do anything - even if it means his own downfall - to keep his parents out of Azkaban."

"So he didn't actually harm you, just made threats?" Harry clarified.

Hermione nodded. "Like I said, he clearly didn't want to do something that could easily translate into charges against him. I guess he was hoping he could scare or threaten me into giving him the information, or stopping Ron from carrying on." She rubbed at her eyes tiredly, then looked up, as if noticing him for the first time. "Harry, you look terrible."

"Thanks. It was a long night."

"You two were looking for me?"

"Something like that," Harry muttered. He felt a wave of anger again at Ron for not being more concerned. "Let's get you home."

Hermione didn't protest and still seemed dazed. Harry wondered if Draco had placed a Confundus charm on her or modified her memories, she seemed so out of it, but she still seemed to have perfect recall of the night's events and he chalked up her disorientation to shock and fatigue.

"Look, it's not even five o'clock," she observed as they reached her building. "I can take a nap and still make it to work this morning."

"Hermione, there's no way you're going to work today," said Harry, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. "If anything you should be coming with me to make a complaint against Malfoy."

"No." Hermione spoke firmly. "It's not his threats," she added quickly on seeing Harry's face. "But honestly, there's not much to tell. I got into the car with him, we drove around all hours and then he returned me to where we started. What's criminal about that?"

"He’s done quite a few illegal things. For starters, you didn't want to get into that car with him!"

"I know, but I was so surprised I didn't even try to run away. I just got in." Hermione seemed amazed at herself even as she spoke. "Really, though, just let it drop. I’ve certainly dealt with worse things than Draco Malfoy's sarcasm; he's been insulting me for years. Besides, I have a feeling Draco on the loose might be more helpful to you than Draco locked up."

Nodding, Harry said, "I know what you mean. But if leaving him alone means compromising your safety -"

"It doesn’t." Hermione's crisp tone ended the discussion. "How's Ron? Is he upset?"

Harry glanced up at the windows of the terrace. "I owled him when the Seeking charm found you - I'm sure he'll be anxious to see you, so let's get upstairs."

Hermione gave Harry a penetrating look, and he wondered if she knew he wasn't telling her everything about Ron's reactions. "Thanks for coming after me," she said.

"Least I could do. You've helped me out of enough tight places over the years," he smiled back at her. "Listen, Ron is probably out of his mind with worry."

"I doubt that," Hermione said, a note of bitterness entering her voice that Harry rarely heard.

"So you had another fight. You always make it up," he said, touching her arm awkwardly. "Come on, I'll go up with you."

Hermione shook her head. "No, go on home. You look a little rough yourself. I'll talk to you later today."

"Promise you won't go into work?"

"I promise." She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks again." Then she turned and walked inside.

"So you’re fine, then." Ron was sitting in the living room when she walked in, a blanket at his feet on the sofa where he had apparently spent the night, looking only marginally better than Harry.

"Yes." Hermione hesitated, then crossed the room and sat next to him. She wearily recounted the night’s events, leaving out Draco’s threats, knowing Ron would insist she press some kind of charges.

"Maybe you shouldn’t work so late anymore," he said when she finished.

Although exhausted, something about the way he just sat there, the fact that the only thing he could say was ‘don’t work so late’ and the complete absence of anxiety over her safety all combined and filled Hermione with a fresh wave of energy. "Maybe you should have come looking for me! Didn’t you care at all, Ron? Did you honestly think I was gallivanting about all night long? Why was Harry the one to come find me and not you?"

Ron shrugged. He’d been asking himself similar questions. "I do care about you," he answered. "Harry and I – we – that is to say, we had a few drinks," he muttered, feeling more sheepish by the minute.

Hermione glared. "Are you telling me you were too drunk to come look for me yourself?"

That was exactly what he was trying to say, but somehow, when she put it that way, his actions seemed much worse than they had last night. Ron’s temper flared as well and he snapped, "The clock didn’t show you being in any danger. You’re always so bloody self-sufficient, why shouldn’t I think you were alright? You certainly don’t need me to look after you!"

Hermione’s quick anger ebbed away and she felt on the verge of tears. "Is that how you really see me?"

"Look, you’ve had an awful strain and I’ve had no sleep." Ron stood up and tossed his blanket around Hermione’s shoulders and patted her in a brotherly fashion. "You go to bed. I’ve got to go to the office, but I’ve already made arrangements with Harry to have special security placed on the flat, so you’ll be okay."

Hermione was on the verge of telling Ron that he was also in danger, but the way he was acting depressed her so much she suddenly cared only for sleep. Tugging the blanket around her shoulders more tightly, Hermione nodded and shuffled off to the bedroom. She fell asleep almost instantly, her last conscious thoughts of Crookshanks and remembering he still didn’t have food.

* * * * *

Harry had barely sat down at his desk when he was summoned by Sirius to visit Gabrielle, who had inexplicably shattered every breakable object in her room.

"Shouldn't Ginny handle it?" Harry struggled to avoid yawning at Sirius' face in the fire. "She's in charge of security."

A puzzled expression flashed across Sirius' face. "She told me to contact you. Anyway, I don't care which of you comes down as long as it's soon. She's going berserk. Even the medical staff are afraid to go near her."

"I'll be there right away." Harry sighed, wishing for a shot of Pepper-Up Potion, although he knew even that wouldn't truly cure his hangover.

Gabrielle's fit of destruction was short-lived, and was over when Harry opened the door to her room. Instead he found her attempting the Repario charm on the shattered figurines and glassware scattered about the room.

"What's the matter, Gabrielle?" he asked gently, coming into the room.

She looked up, seemingly on the verge of tears. "Look at this!"

"Your mother and Sirius are worried about you. They said you broke everything you could. What's this about?"

Her expression shifted from almost childlike frustration to one of irritation. "These figurines are ugly. I cannot have ugly things around me," she began, sounding astonishingly like Fleur.

"And the water goblets? Those were ugly too?"

"No. I just…couldn't stop." Gabrielle sat down on the edge of her bed and regarded her glittering bedroom floor. "And now I can't make the stupid spell work properly to fix them all."

Harry moved closer and now stood in front of her. "This doesn't seem like you, Gabrielle," he said, gesturing to the trashed room. "What is it? Did you remember something new?"

She looked up at him, and Harry noticed the blue-tinged circles beneath her eyes, saw how the hollow look had returned to her face. "It's in my mind all the time. Every night, I dream of the things I saw, the things they made me do. It is no better when I am awake," she explained. "For so long I did not remember anything and now my head is too full."

"Why didn't you say anything? Any of the medical personnel would be glad to help you."

"It is too difficult to explain. I just see it all, I can't explain it." She regarded him with eyes full of both frustration and pleading.

"Just a moment." Harry Apparated downstairs and requested a Pensieve be brought up to Gabrielle's room. Moments later, the head mediwitch appeared, beaming, a Pensieve in her hands.

Harry nodded his thanks and once again he and Gabrielle were alone. "I think you may find this very useful," he began, and explained how it worked.

Gabrielle listened carefully and at Harry's urging touched her wand to her temple, and transferred a memory to the cloudy basin. An image swirled, then took shape. Harry watched with keen interest, mingled with a fair amount of apprehension. Having read Gabrielle's medical reports he had an idea of what she'd been though, but the image that appeared made even Harry draw in a sharp, surprised breath. Narcissa Malfoy appeared before them, bending appealingly towards him and holding out a hand.

At the first sight of Narcissa, Gabrielle began to shake uncontrollably. Harry, fearing another shower of broken glass, calmed her down and put aside the Pensieve for later viewing. He then summoned the mediwitch, who gave Gabrielle a tranquilising draught.

"I’ll keep an eye on her," promised Harry. Once certain Gabrielle was asleep, he returned to the Pensieve. By the time he emerged from viewing the memories, he too, felt shaky and disturbed. No wonder Gabrielle had destroyed her room – the kinds of memories she was recovering made Harry want to go out and do damage as well. At least now he knew how she’d been kidnapped. With a last glance at the ghostly figure of Narcissa, Harry swirled the contents of the Pensieve until all that remained was a cloudy mass at the surface of the bowl.

* * * * *

"I hate her."

Harry jerked his head up at the sound of Gabrielle’s sleepy yet bitter voice. "How long have you been awake?"

"Just now. I assume you saw it all?" She asked.

He nodded. "Yes. Gabrielle, I don’t even know what to say –"

"Then don’t. I’d rather not think about it anymore." She sat up and ran her fingers through her long hair. "I haven’t seen you very much lately. You have been busy, no?"

"I have." Harry nodded impatiently. "Listen, these memories – is there anything else you haven’t told me?"

Gabrielle didn’t respond, and Harry looked at her intently. He realised with alarm her expression had changed once again. She looked both older and younger than he'd seen her before, as she said, "You really cared for her, didn't you?"

"What? Don't try to sidetrack me, Gabrielle." Harry tried to catch her eye, but she seemed focused on something far away.

"But she made a different choice."

"That could apply to a number of people." Harry tried to laugh, the memory of his last conversation with Ginny still painfully fresh in his mind. "You’ll have to do better than that, Seer."

"Still, if you share an affinity with each other…" Gabrielle lapsed into silence, and Harry got the uncomfortable feeling she was seeing something again, something he couldn't register.

"Stop the Trelawney crap and answer my question. What's got into you today?"

At the sharp tone of his voice, Gabrielle's aura of confidence vanished. The authority that had streamed through her moments before was utterly gone, leaving her looking merely young and puzzled. "What is Trelawney crap?"

"Nothing. How do you know if you share -" Harry broke off, disgusted with himself. "Oh, never mind."

Gabrielle now looked amused. "You know. You feel it, here." She reached out a hand and touched Harry’s chest, at the base of his throat, and spread her fingers along each side of his collarbone.

Harry jumped in spite of himself, for at her touch, heat streaked through him like a shock.

Still smiling, Gabrielle took his hand and placed it on her own chest, over the silver pendant. Harry tensed, expecting another jolt, but instead felt only heat beneath his fingertips, as the pendant grew warm and seemed to burn against his touch.

He jerked back his hand and pulled away from Gabrielle. Her face was unreadable but her blue eyes no longer had that flat, glossy look he had seen so often; now they gleamed brightly at him.

"You’re playing with me," he said at last and moved away, towards the door. "This is just your Veela instinct or something."

"Harry, wait." She watched him for a moment, then asked, "Do you know much about my ancestors, the Veela?"

He smiled and relaxed for the first time since entering her room. "Just what I've seen of the ones who are mascots for the Bulgarian Quidditch team."

She shook her head impatiently. "No, no - that is crass commercialism. I am talking about the original Veela, hundreds of years ago. Tradition has it that a Veela becomes the spirit-sister of a hero or warrior, and protects him in battle."

"Too bad I didn't know you when I was at school," joked Harry. "I could have used all the help and protection I could have got when fighting Voldemort."

Gabrielle was not amused. "I know. I felt it, even then. Another power granted the Veela is the responsibility to choose the dead. In my case, of course, I was not allowed to choose; that decision had already been made. I was used only to ensure the chosen ones did die."

"Choose the dead?" Harry tried not to sound incredulous. "How is that possible?"

"It does not happen so much anymore. But in battles, some must die. And Veelas saw which ones were to go. Very few part-Veelas, or even full Veelas, today can do this. Since I am a Seer, however, I have this ability. I suppose it is what made me so attractive to the Death Eaters." She explained all this tonelessly, and Harry surmised she had spent a fair amount of time pondering her strange talent. "I could bring down their most powerful enemies."

Harry sobered. "Dumbledore?"

Her eyes seemed very large and he had never seen her look so solemn as she shook her head and said, "No. You."

"Me? But I didn't die." Harry jumped to his feet and stared. "Are you saying you were supposed to help kill me?"

She nodded. "Yes. But it didn't work. It couldn't work."

"Why not?"

"Because I am your spirit-sister, Harry. Our souls are aligned, share a kind of affinity. I think Dumblydorr knew this. As long as I was alive, you were afforded some protection, even though I was unable to give you the full benefit of my powers. The talisman kept me safe - and by extension, you."

Harry still looked baffled. "I don't get it. How could you choose the ones to die?"

"I told you, I didn't get to choose. They - the Death Eaters - did. I just saw how they could be killed, and the Death Eaters carried it out. Except for one."

She opened her mouth to continue but Harry found he didn't want to hear what she had to say. "No!" he interrupted. "You don't have to say anything."

"But -"

"No." Harry sat down abruptly and stared at the swirling Pensieve. "You've been through enough today, Gabrielle. I don't want to push you," he said and stood up. "Do you want to keep this in here?" he gestured to the Pensieve.

She nodded, face still stricken. Harry frowned, then quickly dashed downstairs. He tried to turn his mind away from it, but Gabrielle's unspoken words came to him anyway. The Death Eaters had tried to use her to kill him.

* * * * *

"It's ironic, really," reflected Hermione. She sat in Harry's living room, feet tucked comfortably under her as she sat on the couch. "That one of the people integral in saving you was also being used to try and destroy you."

"I just can't believe it. I mean, I know she didn't do it of her own volition but still…"

"That's just it, Harry. It wasn't really her. Those Death Eaters - Voldemort really - were completely channeling her powers. You can't look at it as if she did any of this from her own free will."

"How am I supposed to look at it, then?" he demanded fiercely, then dropped his voice. "I didn't even think Seers could kill with their divination."

"They can't. That's what I've been telling you. Since her powers were untrained, except in Dark Magic, the Death Eaters just used her as a kind of generator in a lot of ways, tapped into the magical energy she had, which was quite considerable. As she told you, she could foresee the ways to kill people, see their vulnerable moments, and the Death Eaters just waited for the right moment."

"I know, but -" Harry stopped talking and stared at the print on the upholstery of the furniture. After a few minutes he spoke again. "I told you about seeing Dumbledore's Pensieve, but looking at Gabrielle's was different. Seeing those things - " he shuddered. "It's a weird kind of intimacy."

"Intimacy how?" asked Hermione, her voice tentative.

"Not like that," he said quickly, noticing her expression. "Gabrielle is like a little sister, someone you want to protect. And after what I've seen… I just wish I could have got to her sooner." He shook his head sadly.

Hermione didn't say anything, but placed a comforting arm across Harry's shoulders.

"Do you think he knew?" Harry bounced his fist against the sofa arm and didn't look at Hermione.

"I don't know. Not a lot got past Dumbledore, so I suppose he might've had an idea. There were a lot of people working to protect you. Gabrielle included."

"That's what she says." Harry looked at Hermione, his face anguished. "But how can I believe someone who, by her own admission, was part of an attempt to kill me, who in all likelihood helped bring about Dumbledore's death?"

"You can't think like that." She tightened her grip around his shoulders and moved closer.

For a moment, Harry relaxed against her familiar touch. There were few people with whom he felt he could let down his guard, and Hermione was one of them. But just as quickly, he stiffened, leaned forward, and rested his head in his hands. Eventually he said, "Gabrielle told me something else, Hermione. Well, she didn’t tell me so much as show me. In the Pensieve."

"What?" Hermione removed her arm and watched Harry worriedly.

For the past few minutes Harry had been running his hand through his hair absent-mindedly, and it now stood out on end. "I probably shouldn’t tell you anything at all – but you've already heard so much, I suppose you should know," he said, speaking more to himself than Hermione. "You said Draco mentioned his parents. What exactly did he say?"

"Just that they had suffered too, and they were in no condition to withstand more interrogation from the Ministry," Hermione replied, growing more concerned by the minute.

"He didn’t say anything about his mother?"

Hermione considered. "Not that I recall. Why?"

"All this time, I’ve thought it was Lucius who was behind kidnapping Gabrielle. He certainly headed up the Death Eater activities, but based on what I saw today, I think Narcissa is the one we need to watch. Not only did she kidnap Gabrielle, she engineered some of the most horrific crimes Lucius carried out."

"Narcissa Malfoy?" Hermione drew back in surprise.

Harry nodded. "I saw it all." He was about to explain exactly what he had seen when Ron’s face appeared in the fireplace.

"Hermione. What are you doing at Harry’s?" he asked, clearly annoyed.

"What does it look like, Ron?" she snapped, not bothering to approach the fire. "I’m talking with him. What are you doing – checking up on me?"

"First you complain when I don’t come after you, now you’re angry when I do?" Ron shot back, both of them ignoring Harry. "I was worried when I came home and you weren’t here."

"Well, now you know where I am. I’ll be home later."

"I think you need to come home now."

"Don’t you tell me what I need to do!" Hermione jumped to her feet and yelled at Ron. "You never care if I’m home or not –why the sudden concern?"

"I hate arguing with you over the fire," he complained. "If you’re going to yell at me, at least do it in person." And with that he disappeared.

Hermione remained standing in the middle of the room, fuming. "He makes me so angry."

"Maybe you ought to go and sort things out," suggested Harry uneasily.

She turned and snapped at him, "There’s nothing to sort out. All we do is snipe at each other. I know we’ve always bickered, but this is different. I can’t stand being in the same place as someone who is really, truly angry at me. All the time. The only thing left to work out is when I’m moving."

Harry crossed over to where she stood. "Move out? Are things really that bad?"

"Yes." Hermione moved away from him and grabbed her bag. "Though come to think of it, why should I move? He can find a new place."

"Hermione, wait." Harry dogged her steps and grabbed her arm at the front door.

"What?" She turned to look at him, eyes still blazing.

Harry’s grasp faltered and he swallowed, as both of them became aware of just how close he was standing to her. "If you do - that is, if you need a place to stay, you can always stay with me."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I appreciate it Harry, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. Ginny won’t be very happy to find you’ve got your ex-girlfriend living with you, not to mention she’ll be doubly unhappy once she finds out I’ve split with her brother."

"She won’t care."

"Trust me, Harry. No woman wants her boyfriend living with his ex." She made to move away again, but Harry held her back.

"That’s just it. I’m not her boyfriend." Harry laughed shortly. "She’s made it very clear she wants nothing to do with me."

Hermione set down her bag and stared at Harry in confusion. "Nothing to do with you? But I thought –"

"It doesn’t matter. Point is, if you need somewhere to crash, you can call on me. Ron might not be happy about it, but we’re all friends, right?"

"Right. Friends," Hermione repeated, turning once again to the door. "I’ll owl you later," she said and hurried out.

Once outside the flat, Hermione leaned against Harry’s door, heart beating fast. She’d rarely heard him sound so bitter, and wondered what Ginny could possibly have said to him.

And it wasn't right she should feel almost relieved at his announcement there was nothing between himself and Ginny. Just because her relationship with Ron was crumbling apart was no reason she should begrudge anyone else happiness. Yet as she recalled how annoyed she'd been with Ginny earlier, and thought how Harry had looked at her just now, Hermione felt an uncomfortable heat rise in her heart. Sighing, she moved outside to the spring twilight. Considering how good she was at deciphering ancient runes it seemed unfair she should be so lost when it came to interpreting Harry - or herself.

* * * * *

Thanks go to Wotan for the beta-read. Stay tuned for yet more complications in everyone's love life, and find out what that pesky Narcissa has been up to… Is Draco really just a big mama's boy, or does he have another reason for protecting her and his father?