Apostasy

Apostasy

Hermione sat curled up in her seat by the bedroom window. There was a thunderstorm brewing outside. Rain poured from the bulky gray clouds, tree branches waved at her in the wind, and the thunder gave loud rumbles in the distance. Water droplets ran down the pane of glass that separated Hermione from the weather.

She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them close. The glass didn't just separate her from the weather.

Hogwarts students were sent home after Dumbledore's funeral. Hermione couldn't remember a time she had cried so hard. It was time for her to explain to her parents what was really going on in the other world. She couldn't bear the thought of losing them as well.

Professor McGonagall forbade Hermione, Ron, and Harry to send owls while Harry was with the Dursleys for his final stay until he was of wizarding age. Hermione did not like the order, but did not try to persuade the professor from her decision. She knew it was no use.

Lightning cracked the sky, illuminating Hermione's dark bedroom. Everything was neat and orderly. Her bed was made, her floor vacant of clothes and papers and shoes. Everything was how it always seemed when Hermione was home. Except that her trunk was packed, leaning against one of her walls. It wasn't clear of books, clothes, quills, and inkwells. She was prepared to help Harry find the Horcruxes right after his birthday, to join him and Ron in the search for the last piece of the puzzle.

Hermione rested her head against the pane and looked down her neighborhood street. Memories flashed through her mind, taking over her.

She remembered everything Harry told her that horrible night. He told her about Voldemort splitting his soul into several pieces, placing them into objects that meant some level of importance to him. Clever - and rather disturbing - but it was a way to become immortal. Harry did not say much about Dumbledore's death, other than Malfoy saying he was supposed to kill him, but he didn't; Snape killed Dumbledore instead.

"Curious," Hermione had said, though neither boy heard her. They were too wrapped up on Snape's loyalty and trickery.

Hermione frowned. To this day she continued to wonder what stopped Malfoy. Was he not as evil - truly evil - as Ron and Harry thought? Surely he had something akin to a heart if he couldn't kill Dumbledore on Voldemort's orders.

Lost in thought, Hermione didn't notice a dark, cloaked figure appear from nowhere down the street. The person seemed to find their bearings and began to run down the puddle lane.

A roar of thunder broke Hermione from her train of thoughts. Her eyes snapped to the hooded man - the build was too large for a woman, she could see - who was now running towards her driveway. Knowing nothing good could come from a wizard running down a Muggle street (My street, she thought), Hermione grabbed her wand from her desk and stood rigidly by the window.

The man was looking up at her. She was sure of it. There could be no mistaking. It was as if he was seeing right through the water-drenched glass, through the blinds, and into her soul. At first he didn't move. Hermione leaned closer to the glass, and, startled by her movement, the man quickly reached a pale hand up to his hood and pulled it back.

Hermione's eyes widened and her jaw dropped. She stepped a few inches back from the window. Could it be? No. It was impossible. Why would Draco Malfoy, of all people, be standing on her driveway? Unless...

Hermione's hand flew to cover her mouth. They're coming.

Malfoy only confirmed her worries. His shout was muffled from the raging storm, but she could distinctly hear, "Get your parents! They're coming!"

Hermione nodded mutely and bolted out her bedroom.

--~--~--

Less than five minutes later, Hermione was standing on the front porch with her parents. Her mind was churning, spinning, whirling, trying to grasp the knowledge that the Death Eaters were coming any minute, and Draco Malfoy was still here. Malfoy, the one who warned her of the upcoming arrival.

Malfoy had his hood back up, concealing his pale features. "Granger," he said, "you must leave immediately. Go to Weasley's home, you'll be safer there."

Hermione nodded wordlessly and grabbed her mother's hand. Malfoy had taken her father's arm, and soon the four of them dashed down the street to the Apparition point.

Both holding tight to Hermione's parents and concentrating on Ottery St. Catchpole, the familiar constricting sensation hit. Not a second later, they reached their destination. Hermione could see the Burrow through the pounding rain in the distance. It appeared, from the glowing lights in the windows, that the Weasley family was still awake. Hermione let out a sigh that she had not known she was holding.

She turned to look at Malfoy. He had let go of her father once they arrived, but didn't look like he was in any hurry to leave. Hermione felt a weight in the pit of her stomach. It hurt to think he had to go back what he saved her family from.

She looked down at the rain-soaked grass, trying to think of something to say to him. When she looked up, however, Draco Malfoy was no longer standing in front of her.

He was gone.

--~--~--

Hermione lay on her cot in Ginny Weasley's bedroom with her eyes wide open. She could not sleep. Her mind was racing. Everything was happening so fast. Why had Malfoy come? Why had he saved her and her parents from their death? Was it the same reason he could not kill Dumbledore? What was his reason?

She sat up and pulled her knees close to her chest. A part of her wished he would leave Voldemort and come over to the Order - he could save himself and his family. But another part of her knew what would happen if Voldemort found out Malfoy's plan and killed him. Then again, the Order was hard to track down and they could very easily hide Malfoy if he wanted.

If he wanted. Did he want to desert Voldemort? Or did he want to stay with him, for what may be, in his eyes, protection for his family?

Hermione sighed heavily and rubbed her eyes. She was never going to get any answers if she did not ask. And like the curious bookworm inside her always did, she wanted answers. She would not be able to rest without them.

Hermione stood up slowly, careful not to wake the other girl. She wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and searched for parchment, ink, and a quill. Once she retrieved those items, she sat at the chair in front of Ginny's desk and began to write a quick, hasty note.

You don't have to do this. We can protect you.

--~--~--

Not an hour later after Pig returned from his journey, Hermione received a reply. She couldn't hide the shock on her face when a large, silky black owl hovered outside the window. It was still raining, and the owl seemed to flap its wings harder in an attempt to shake off the access water.

Stumbling towards the window in excited nervousness, Hermione opened the latch quickly so it would not squeak. The rush of the rain roared when the window opened, and the dark owl hovered half in the room and half outdoors. Hermione looked at it curiously and motioned for it to enter. It would not, and it simply dropped the reply into her hands and soared off into the storm.

Hermione didn't bother to shut the window. She unfolded the small piece of parchment in a hurry. A sense of relief washed over her knowing that he even bothered to reply. Taking a deep breath, Hermione read the four little words written elegantly on the parchment in dark, liquid black ink.

I just don't know.

The rain no longer sounded like heavy rain pounding on the roofs and walls, splashing in the nearby pond, or soaking the ground. It sounded like a rushing waterfall, so loud and so thunderous that Hermione felt overwhelmed.

--~--~--

That morning at breakfast, Ron pushed the Daily Prophet towards Hermione's plate of toast. "It has a story about your home."

Hermione glanced at it. One large picture of her house, looking as if it was untouched, covered the top of the front page. She read some bits of the article - pleased that a trustworthy reporter wrote it - and found that the Death Eaters came and went, "most likely angry that the Grangers were not there," it said. Then the story went on to quote a few Aurors who said they were proud of the Granger family for being absent during the attack, and a few other quotes from Ministry authorities wondering if the Grangers had a tip-off.

Hermione mentally scoffed at the quote. Sure, they got a tip-off, but not from someone they thought it would be.

"We've got mail," Ginny said as she peered over Hermione's head and out the window. The sky was dark with heavy clouds and the air smelt thick of rain. Three tiny dots fluttered in the far distance, growing larger as seconds went by. Three dots became three owls, delivering letters. One was Hedwig, delivered to Ron, another was an owl for Ginny, and the last was the same great black owl from earlier that morning.

"I'll be back later," said Hermione hurriedly, taking the note from the dark owl's leg, and let it soar out the window again.

Sitting at the desk, Hermione opened the note. The fact that she hadn't replied to the first one from him and he was still writing to her gave her a small bit of hope. It meant he was thinking about her offer. At least, she hoped he was.

Staring at the parchment, she read. I should, and I want to. I can't. I have to stay.

Hermione's shoulders slumped and the hand with the note fell to her lap. He was not going to come to the Order for safety. He was going to stay with Voldemort and live a life of torture and cruelty, against what he wanted.

--~--~--

Hermione woke up two nights later to the tapping on her window. The clouds were darker and heavier than the day before, and yet they would not burst and pour over the land. Hermione sat up and saw a blurred outline of the same dark owl.

She had given up. She didn't think this note would be any different than the last.

Walking over to the window and turning the latch quickly so it would not squeak, the owl dropped yet another note into her hands and flew off into the gloomy night. Hermione watched it until it turned into a dot, blending in with the clouds above.

She opened the note slowly, dreading what it would say. Only Malfoy surprised her once more.

I'm leaving.

She only hoped that what she thought he meant was truly what he meant.

--~--~--

"Mum! We can't let him in! He's horrible, he's a Death Eater!"

Hermione groaned and sat up slowly in her cot, holding her head. Why did Ron like waking up the house by shouting?

"What makes you think we can trust him after what Snape has done?"

Hermione blinked and rubbed her eyes. She and Ginny looked at each other and slowly crawled out of bed and down the stairs for breakfast. Whether Ron was yelling or not, they knew Mrs. Weasley was making a hearty breakfast in the kitchen.

"McGonagall said he was honest and his story is truthful," Mrs. Weasley said. Hermione could tell the woman wasn't happy with the decision, but agreed with it. Whatever it was. Hermione sighed and wished she had her breakfast soon or else she wouldn't think correctly for the rest of the day.

"Truthful? He's a Malfoy!" Ron spat. "Anything a Malfoy says is a lie!"

Hermione's eyes widened. Had Malfoy really gone to the Order? Was she correct in her assumptions?

Mrs. Weasley spun around, pointing an accusing spatula in Ron's face. "Explain to me how we caught him off guard and gave him Veritaserum! He spilled the truth, his whole story, his intentions, everything." She put the spatula by her side. "He's staying, Ronald, whether you like it or not. He's being a man and protecting his family."

Ron mumbled something incoherent and ran up to his room, probably wanting to write a complaint to Harry.

Hermione was too happy to eat. Just knowing Draco Malfoy had gone to the Order for his safety. She didn't care if he still had the views of others against them in this War, but the fact he left for safety was enough to make her light up.

--~--~--

He knows. He's after me.

Hermione's latest owl scared her. How did Voldemort find out? It's not like he could find Malfoy, right? He was at the Order, at a place that was unplottable! If Malfoy kept hidden, he would be fine.

She gave a hurried reply, telling him not to worry and that the members would be there to protect him.

--~--~--

Hermione bowed her head and stared at her black gloves.

It was raining harder than any other day that summer. The heavy clouds that loomed over the country for a week finally burst and spilled over the land. Tiny puddles grew into miniature ponds; yards were filled with flooded patches; and everything was dark, dreary, and wet.

They had finished lowering the black marble coffin into the ground and filled the hole with thick mud. People surrounded the hole, all dressed in their nicest black robes and outfits. Everyone had solemn expressions on their faces. A few, Hermione could hear, were sobbing openly and hugging one another. Some stared at the coffin, others at the ground, others straight ahead in the distance, almost as if they were refusing to accept what happened.

When the coffin was completely covered, the small crowd slowly departed and went their separate ways. Hermione stayed with her head bowed until she was sure there was no one else around.

She walked over to the tombstone and touched the top. It was large and carved with precision. It seemed to stand there knowing how rich and important and aristocratic the person below was. It was everything Malfoy was.

Hermione traced the engraved name and date. Such a young age. Such a foreign person - she was disappointed that she never got to see the rest of the real one he was underneath.

She dropped her hand to her side and stood there in front of the marker. She didn't know how long she stood there staring at the stone, but sometime later another stood beside her.

"He felt so free," a soft woman's voice said. Hermione looked up to find the tall, pale, sophisticated Narcissa Malfoy. She turned her pointed face to Hermione's and gave a sad smile. "You must be Hermione Granger," she said as she held out her hand.

Hermione nodded and shook it. "Mrs. Malfoy?" Narcissa nodded.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, dear."

Narcissa turned her face back down to the tombstone. Silence fell between them. Hermione didn't know what to say to anything Narcissa said. Malfoy felt free? How did she know who Hermione was?

Narcissa broke through her thoughts. "I wanted to thank you for helping him in his decision." Hermione didn't know how to take that. Narcissa seemed so calm, so honest, but she was married to Lucius Malfoy, one of the most horrible men Hermione knew. How would she know Narcissa was lying, saying that she hated how Hermione helped make Malfoy's decision and send him to his death? On accident, Hermione thought. It was only an accident; I didn't know this would happen.

His mother seemed to know what was going on in Hermione's mind. "He was happy to be away, even though it was for a short while." She turned to Hermione and gave her a sad smile. "He felt free from everything he was pressured to do."

Hermione returned a small smile back to Narcissa and looked over at Malfoy's tombstone. She brushed her hand over to the head once more, and dropped her hand.

She didn't realize she was still staring sadly at the stone head until Narcissa put her hand on Hermione's robed shoulder. She looked up in surprise. Narcissa looked at Hermione in a way she didn't think was possible for a woman like her - so full of caring and a small bit of sadness.

"He would have been happy that you came."

With that, Narcissa Malfoy turned and walked away from Hermione, from the grave, and from the cemetery.

Hermione looked back at the tombstone. Rain splattered against the top and ran down the smooth sides. Hermione looked up at the clouds, not caring that her hat would no longer protect her from the wet weather. She let the rain hit her face, flow down her neck, and soak her shoulders. The dark gray clouds were thinning, becoming smaller and smaller with each droplet until the rain subdued to a calm drizzle.

She dropped her head and looked back down at Draco Malfoy's tombstone. Salty tears mixed with the water droplets on her cheek. One lone tear ran down her face and splashed onto the tombstone. With a small, sad smile, Hermione brushed her hand once more over the stone, turned around, and walked away.