Metamorphome

"From the back of the big brown eyes

I knew you'd be gone as soon as you could

And I hoped you would

We could see that you weren't yourself

And the lines on your face

Did tell us

Just as well

You'd never be yourself

Again

Saw you last night

Dance by the light

Of the moon

Stars in your eyes

Free from the life

That you knew..."

Magic by Ben Folds Five (The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner)

Chapter Fifteen: And Then Harry Left

Draco took Morrigan home that night to a very worried Hermione. When they Apparated into the kitchen, Hermione jumped about two feet and screamed piercingly. "Relax," Draco ordered, and Hermione put a hand over her heart.

"That was not--Morrigan, what happened to your fingers?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"They--" Morrigan turned to look at Draco, who nodded. "Well, we went to Parselart."

Hermione's eyes narrowed perceptively. "You-Know-Who's keep?" she asked, her mouth twisting angrily.

Morrigan nodded guiltily.

"Why did you do that!" she shrieked at the two of them. "You could have died, you could have disappeared for the rest of my life, and I would never have been able to say good-bye! How dare you! What were you doing?" She was breathing angrily, and she sat down at the table. Morrigan, sat, too, and reached forward to put her hands on Hermione's, but pulled them back, looking at her unhealed fingers.

"Well, Harry needed to get that cup--"

"Harry did not go with you!" Hermione gasped, looking between the guilt-ridden faces of Draco and Morrigan.

"He did," Draco told her glumly. "We destroyed two Horcruxes, though!" he said brightly. Hermione's scowl chased the cheerful look off his face.

"Draco, I care more about you three living than Voldemort dying. And it seems that Morrigan didn't escape unscathed."

"She--Morrigan, do you want to tell her?" Draco asked Morrigan softly. Morrigan looked at the table, and Hermione sought her eyes, which had taken on a dull, haunted look. Morrigan nodded.

"Hermione, I really don't know if you've ever been a victim of the Cruciatus," she began, and both Draco and Hermione winced. Hermione had, and both of them knew by whom. "The Dark Lord wanted to punish me, for my defiant words, for my betrayal, for everything, I suppose, and I...well, I have to say that I didn't know what I was doing. I only knew the pain, and I was clawing at everything, trying to get away..."

Hermione grimaced, a picture of Morrigan clawing at a dark stone floor erupting in her mind.

"I healed her, Hermione. It's all right now," Draco reassured her, putting a hand on her own.

Hermione flinched at his touch. "I can't take this right now. I'll...go." She stood and went to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Morrigan and Draco exchanged worried looks. "I was the one that nearly went insane," Morrigan snorted, trying to help the situation with some brief levity.

"Morrigan, the war has been more painful for Hermione than for you," Draco said sharply, standing. "A little compassion on your part would be greatly appreciated by everyone." He left, walking to Hermione's bedroom, Morrigan staring after him in shock.

* * *

"Hermione," Draco whispered into the door. "Let me in, please."

The door opened slowly, revealing a grief-stricken Hermione. Draco entered the room cautiously, keeping his eyes on Hermione and walking with a deliberate strength to the bed, where Hermione sat, hands under her legs. He sat next to her, staring down at the floor.

"Hermione," he said lowly, "we really are very sorry. We didn't mean to scare you. The plan didn't work quite as well on Morrigan's end."

Hermione sniffled. "A bit of warning would have been nice."

"Would you have let us go alone if we'd told you?" he asked her.

"No," she mumbled. "But if you'd died!" she whimpered. "How could I live with myself?"

"You would have had Ronald and Ginevra," he told her sternly. "They're your best friends, and you should let them be your best friends."

"Sometimes I don't want them to be my best friends," she whispered quietly, as if to herself. "Sometimes, I think I'd rather have you and Morrigan be my best friends."

"You barely know me!" Draco exclaimed, turning abruptly to look at her in shock. "Hermione, there are so many things about me that you could hardly understand, that you don't want to understand! I should be no one's best friend."

"That's not true!" Hermione snapped, looking up at him angrily. She wiped her tears with her palm, reminding Draco of a surly child. "The way you try to protect me and Morrigan, how you seem to l-love us." She choked on the word "love," as if she had never voiced it before. "It's all indicative."

"Weasley is far better suited!" Draco hissed at her, his eyes fiery. "He knows primarily how to love. He's always been there for you--honor that!"

"Ron is so consistent," Hermione cried, her voice hinting at petulance.

"Hermione, you can't run to me because you're bored with Ron!" Draco snapped. "Now, I can comfort you, or you can justify why you're ultimately attracted to me. But I'm not going to allow you to walk away from your best friends because I'm more interesting--at the moment," he emphasized. "I'm your friend, not your entertainment."

Hermione looked as if she'd been slapped. Draco was abashed at his words. The girl began to cry again, and he put his arms around her, pulling her closer to his chest. "Shh," he whispered. "I'm sorry, I never know the right thing to say."

He held Hermione close as she sobbed quietly into his chest. He stroked her hair and pressed his mouth to the top of her head, internally wincing at his own weakness. Remember Morrigan, a little voice said, but he disregarded it entirely. Hermione's sobbing soon halted to a few snuffles. She clung to him as to a rock for safe harbor and he allowed it. He might not have let it go this far, but she was so close, and he could smell her, that faint scent of orchids and roses.

Hermione pulled away and looked at him for a moment. "Thanks, Draco."

* * *

"Hermione, I have to say that this idea was brilliant. You say Muggles do this all the time?"

"Yup."

Morrigan and Hermione were stretched out on beach chairs in the middle of the sitting room, watching "The Big Tease." They were both wearing robes and had their hair up in towels. Their faces were slathered in green gunk; their fingernails (Morrigan's fully healed) were painted blue, their toenails green; between them was a bowl of truffles and two tall glasses of sherry.

"Well, I think it's fabulous. We should do this about once a week. It'd add about fifty years to our life."

"Surely it can't be that stimulating," Hermione sniffed.

"I bet it is," Morrigan countered. "I can feel the worry lines going away."

"Morrigan, you're nineteen. You don't have any worry lines."

"Sure I do."

"No you don't." Morrigan stuck out a tongue at Hermione who rolled her eyes. "That's terribly mature of you," Hermione snorted.

"Hey," Morrigan protested, stuffing a truffle into her mouth, "why are you in such a hurry to grow up?"

"You're right, this sherry should go out the window."

Morrigan snatched both glasses and held them away from Hermione with utmost care. "You will not!"

Hermione turned awkwardly (the robe was rather large) and grinned, stretching the green gunk. "Now hand that over, I want some."

Morrigan, grumbling, passed one of the glasses to Hermione, who then gulped it happily. "That is some pretty good stuff."

"Told you," Morrigan said smugly. "From the table of Daisy Parkinson."

"The Parkinsons suggested it?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Yeah, I used to eat with them all the time," Morrigan said with a frown. "Daisy insisted that Pansy and I be friends, because I was the perfect companion for her. She hangs around with men far too often!" she mimicked bossily. "I almost felt bad for the girl. Except she was a bit...well, you know, I imagine. You went to school with her."

Hermione made a face. "Yeah, I know." Morrigan laughed at the distasteful expression on Hermione's face.

Something tapped on the window, and Morrigan turned to see Hedwig. She sprang to race Hermione to the window. Hermione half-heartedly followed, then sat back down when Morrigan retrieved the letter from the owl's talon. "It's addressed to us both," Morrigan said loudly, then opened it to read it.

"Morrigan and Hermione--

"We're planning a meeting for the Order tomorrow night at Headquarters. Supper will be included. I'll be at your place tomorrow around six to pick you up.

"Harry"

"Hmph," Morrigan grunted. "Well then, cancel plans for tomorrow, we're going to Headquarters."

"I wonder why," Hermione said with a frown.

Morrigan shrugged. "We'll soon find out, won't we?"

* * *

"You're probably all wondering why we called this meeting," Harry said to the present members of the Order. They were all assembled in the dining room of Grimmauld Place, each wearing identical disgruntled expressions, all irritated by the short notice.

Gathered were the Weasleys (minus Charlie), Tonks, Remus, Moody, Hermione, Morrigan, Draco, Shacklebolt, and Doge.

"I have recently participated in, successfully, a covert operation in Parselart with Draco and Morrigan. We got in and got out safely, but not without notice."

"And what, pray tell, were you doing?" Lupin asked, rather sharply, his expression not, as customary, mild.

"There was something that needed to be destroyed," Harry said carefully the Order members. "It was absolutely necessary, in order to win the war with as few casualties as possible. You do want that, right?" Harry asked stridently.

"What precisely did you destroy?" Arthur asked, his expression the most serene one in the room.

"A certain object that helps Voldemort. I'm afraid I can't give you too many details. Dumbledore charged me to find it and destroy it, and that's what I've done. That has to be enough for you for now."

Arthur nodded peaceably. Harry continued. "The news is that now, I must leave."

The entire room erupted.

Harry hushed them all with a stern look. "See here, I have to go. You can manage without me, really. I need to go abroad and find the rest of Voldemort's...artifacts. If I don't, this war will go on forever and people will just keep dying. I'm sorry I can't tell you why; and I'm not going alone."

Harry's eyes rested on Ron and Hermione, sitting next to each other. "Ron, Hermione, it's time."

Molly put a hand over her mouth. "Surely, Harry--"

"Mrs. Weasley, I'm sorry, we decided long ago that we were going to do this together. It's Ron and Hermione's decision if they don't want to go. But the original plan stays in place. I want them to come with me."

"We'll come," Hermione said firmly, taking Ron's hand in hers. Draco's eyes rested on their entwined hands, and he felt a surge of jealousy.

"Yeah, we're coming with," Ron told him determinedly. "Just say when."

"I was hoping...tomorrow."

Hermione looked taken aback. "That's rather...sudden," she said carefully.

"Sorry, Hermione, but I want to surprise the Death Eaters just as much as I surprised you all. Information always leaks out, and the moment Voldemort finds out that I've gone, he's going to chase us. I can't risk him catching us. He'll try to change the location of the objects we're looking for, and since he knows where they are, it won't take much to get ahead of us. I wouldn't be surprised if he already moved them," he added grimly.

The atmosphere was heavy. Morrigan watched Hermione with curiosity. She was going off with her friends, but her air was so determined, so deliberate, Morrigan wondered if she was just putting this on. Why didn't she really want to leave? Harry and Ron had been her best friends since she was eleven-years-old, and now she didn't want to be with them in this life-and-death situation, the quarters close.

"I think that's all," Harry said, sitting down. "Anything you'd like to add?"

No one knew enough to add anything, and those that did kept their mouths firmly closed.

"Meeting adjourned," Harry said quietly, then stood and left. The room emptied. Morrigan left to find Harry and talk to him, maybe give him suggestions, even though Harry knew better than Morrigan where to look for the Horcruxes. Draco and Hermione were left, staring down at their hands. Hermione's feeling of torment was threatening to take her over completely and develop into full-blown hysteria.

"I can't believe I'm leaving tomorrow," she said, her voice strangely strangled.

"Me neither," Draco said quietly, even though this wasn't entirely true. It was a space filler...useless but relevant, so he'd used it. "Sorry, that's a stupid thing to say."

"It's okay," Hermione sighed. "I just don't want to go."

"Of course you do," Draco tried to tell her, but it came out weak and halfhearted.

"No, I don't. I should, but I don't." Her voice seemed dead, emotionless.

Draco finally met her eyes, and was stunned by what he saw there. It was the same longing he knew he'd been feeling. Was it love? Was it lust? Both stood immediately and within a mere second closed the bridge between them, careless of who saw them. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her head in his chest. "It was too short," she whispered. She didn't have to specify what she was talking about. Their time together had been brief and strange. Even together was a foreign word in their relationship. They hadn't ever been "together." Just...connected in some bizarre way.

"One last..." Hermione breathed, looking up, and pressed her lips firmly against Draco's. She always wanted to be doing this. It was different every time, so unlike Ron. Draco wasn't steady or constant, but the fire he ignited in her was too significant to ignore any longer. Draco's arms were on her back, large against her tiny waist and making her feel so delicate. Her arms were around his neck, twisting in the hem of his robes.

They were so caught up in their passion that they didn't see the door open, and Ron entered. He gazed at them in shock, waiting a moment for them to notice him, but they didn't, and so he backed out, horrified, from the room, his face white with shock. He turned around quickly and ran into Morrigan, who looked at him with such worry that she grabbed his hand and dragged him to the familiar, and empty, drawing room. She sat him down and looked him carefully in the face. "What happened, Ron?" she asked him softly, putting a warm hand on his.

It was a mark of how much the Valentine's Day episode had changed his view on Morrigan that Ron opened his mouth and spilled the following words: "I just saw Hermione and Malfoy...in the dining room.... They were k-kissing."

Morrigan turned paper white, but she composed her features with that practiced expressionless mask she'd used so many times to display indifference. "Ron, I know it seems awful, but they're very scared and are probably reaching out to each other for comfort in...unusual ways."

"But why wouldn't she just...come to me?" Ron whispered unhappily.

"Hermione and Draco developed a relationship over those many months that's probably quite unique to your relationship with Hermione. She'll always love you, because you're the constant in her life. She can depend on you. Draco is just...just a phase," Morrigan finished lamely.

Ron allowed her to comfort him more until Ginny entered the room and Morrigan made herself scarce.

* * *

"Draco, I've been thinking for awhile about what's going on," Hermione told him as they sat at the table, talking quietly. "And we can't just pretend this isn't happening anymore. Every damn time Ron puts his arm around my waist, I think of you. I think we should confront this before I leave, because if anything happens, we should have at least acknowledged this." She gazed at him anxiously, waiting for his response.

"I like you a lot, Hermione, and I think you're right. This is something so much more than we've given it credit for."

Hermione smiled at him glumly. "Then what is it? The stage before love? Is it already love?"

"I don't know," Draco admitted. "I think if we go any further with it, though, it might end up that way, and do you really want to deal with it?"

"Deal with it?" Hermione repeated it, stricken. "You make it sound like a chore or something."

"It's not that," Draco sighed exasperatedly. "You do truly love Ronald, there's no way you don't. And you probably shouldn't encourage this. You can't have both of us. Eventually you'll have to pick, and one of us is going to be hurt. If you pick Weasley now, the pain'll be minimal. If you pick when we're in the middle of this...affair, one of us might end up really damaged."

"But how can I make that decision now?" Hermione asked desperately.

Draco put a firm hand on hers. "Decide when you come back."

"But--" Hermione protested.

"Notice that I said when," he told her firmly. "Because you will come back, and I'll be waiting to hear what you have to say."

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair. No one really wanted to say anything, because it might break the silence, and the silence was far better than the tears that might come. Anything but the tears. Morrigan and Ron were probably the quietest, eating their food without looking up. Ron finished first, kissed his mother on the cheek, and said good-bye to everyone quite coolly.

Morrigan followed soon after.

Draco saw the expression on her face and recognized it immediately. It was the cold detachment she so frequently used to hide her most passionate feelings. She cleared her plate and left mutely. Draco watched her leave, his insides turning cold. Something was very wrong with Morrigan. He exchanged a look with Hermione, then stood and took his unfinished plate to the kitchen. Morrigan brushed past him in the doorway and he hurried to the counter, where he sat the plate down, and then raced to catch up with her. She was walking out the door, her strides furious. He followed her, ignoring his light cloak by the exit. He followed her, and by the slumped shoulders and the manner with which she walked, he could tell she'd let down her guard.

He ran to catch up with her and came up beside her. She wasn't surprised that he had followed her.

"What do you want?" she asked flatly.

"What's wrong?" he asked, breathing heavily.

"Nothing. Why would you think something's wrong?" she asked, coming to a stop in the center of the street.

"Because, something's obviously wrong."

She seethed. "I don't need to justify myself to you," she snarled angrily, looking down at her feet and anywhere else but him.

"Come one, Morrigan, what's wrong?" he asked her softly.

"You're what's wrong!" she hissed quite suddenly, taking him by surprise.

"Me? What did I do?" he asked incredulously.

"Don't you get it, Draco?" she asked, but she gazed at his face disappointedly. "Of course not," she continued sadly. "You never have, you never will. I just...can't trust you to hold the same regard for me as I you. I'm so pathetic!" she burst, laughing humorlessly. "So pathetic," she muttered to herself. She turned away and walked to the cover of a few trees in the small park, then, watching him, Apparated.

Morrigan waited in her room, the door open, when she arrived home, but Draco didn't follow her. He really doesn't care. He broke his promise, she accused anxiously, but her mind was screaming in anguish at herself.

I'm not good enough for him. I've always been good enough for someone, but not him. I'm not good enough for him.

Hermione was the obvious choice between the two, of course. She was smart and charming. She was kind, not nearly as malicious as Morrigan was. She'd never chosen the wrong side or said the wrong thing. No, Hermione was smarter and better for Draco. Girls such as Hermione...well, they could from pick both sides of the spectrum of men. She could choose dark Draco or sweet Ron. It wasn't Hermione's fault. She was just good enough for anyone, and better than many.

Better than me, Morrigan thought bitterly, and pondering this, cried herself to sleep.

* * *

Hermione left early the next morning, waking Morrigan to say good-bye. Morrigan was sluggish and seemed depressed, even though she tried to cover this up for Hermione's benefit. Morrigan hugged Hermione stiffly and wished her luck. "Try not to die, roomie," she said, smiling sadly.

"I'll try," Hermione said, smiling back. "Miss you already."

"Me, too," Morrigan lied, even though she couldn't wait to see Hermione gone. She felt terrible for feeling this, but just seeing Hermione's radiant, kind face was sending waves of agony coursing through her body.

"G'bye," Hermione murmured, touching Morrigan's hand briefly, and then picked her bags up and disappeared into the ether.

Morrigan watched the empty spot for a few more minutes, then stalked back to her bedroom and tried to go back to sleep. She found she couldn't sleep anymore, so she went to the bathroom and showered. She made breakfast than watched television for a while. When she couldn't stand the silence any longer, she dressed and decided to walk down to the Leaky Cauldron to shop for something, anything, to get her mind off this cursed melancholy.

The walk was much lonelier than she remembered, but she supposed it was the solitude that was bothering her. She hadn't been on her own for a very long time.

She passed through the Leaky Cauldron, invisible, and into the alley. In Diagon Alley, she moved past the huddled groups of shoppers. The bank was too bright, the goblins too cheery (a mark of Morrigan's depression). The shopkeepers were too friendly and the assistants were too helpful. She just wanted to get a few books and a few potions, and then go home to figure out something to do.

She bought as many potion supplies as she could handle, planning to make some general antidotes for storage.

She went home, kicked off her shoes, then set to work.

She worked feverishly, using all her mental power to think about the task at hand, and it worked for a time.

Until she had to sleep. And then the nightmares haunted her far worse than any of the daytime terrors could have.