Calamity Jane

When her partner walked in clad in a T-shirt and a tight-fighting pair of jeans, Hermione vowed once again to hunt down the person who introduced Draco to Muggle clothing. He looked entirely too good in them to believe – and he knew it.

That was so unattractive in a man.

Then she read the slogan on his shirt, and she decided to go after him instead.

“‘Will accept pity sex’?” she read aloud. “Malfoy, that is disgusting.”

“What?” He shrugged his shoulders, somehow managing to look even sexier while doing so. “Oh, the shirt?” He smiled smugly. “Are you offering?”

“Hell no. Though I know you don’t need any offers. I am sure that Millicent Bulstrode would be happy to comfort you.”

“Ugh. I believe my shirt says that I’ll accept pity sex, not that I’ll dole it out.”

“That’s horrible.”

“A bloke has to have some standards.”

“And while Parkinson is good enough for a shag, Bulstrode is not?”

“Hermione, she’s scarier than Crabbe and Goyle combined.”

“Draco, I’m scarier than Crabbe and Goyle combined. Yet you still come to work everyday.”

“That’s because you look better than them too.”

“That is not a compliment.” Hermione crossed her arms. Not that she cared what Draco thought of her looks, but still. She didn’t want to think that anyone thought she looked like a man.

“True, true. Especially for a witch as lovely as you.” He blew a kiss in her direction.

“Thankfully, I’m immune to your charms.”

“Are you?” he asked, quirking one elegant eyebrow. All of a sudden and so swiftly that she didn’t even register movement, he was in front of her, their noses slightly touching. Unfortunately for him and for any plans of seduction that he might have, there was nothing wrong with her reflexes. Almost without thinking, she punched him in his gut, sending him reeling backwards. “Argh!” he cried. “Hermione! There was no need to do that. I wasn’t going to hurt you.”

“You startled me,” she said simply. “I don’t take well to being startled.”

“I will endeavor to remember that in the future,” he said, between great gasps of breaths. “Though it’s a shame. Surprises can be such fun.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Hermione sighed to herself. Truthfully, she hadn’t meant to hurt him, but he should have known that she was wound up tight lately. Surprising her like that was never a good idea. “And doesn’t the Muggle clothing wreak havoc with your carefully crafted persona?” she asked.

“Actually, this is another one for our current case,” he told her.

“Another one?” It was shocking how easily he could switch parts when needed. It was one of the things that made them such a dynamic pair of Aurors. While she knew spells better than almost anyone on the planet, he could assume an undercover role with an ease that twenty-year veterans didn’t have. “I’m surprised you don’t have more trouble keeping track of all of them.”

“I’m not. I’ve never had much of myself to lose,” he said seriously. “I was always concerned with being what people wanted me to be . . . so it’s not so different now.”

“I see.” She didn’t know how to respond to that. It was sad to hear that, but she didn’t think that he would want her pity . . . . Damn! That bastard. Hermione realized what he had been plotting with that comment. “Malfoy, I believe I’ve already told you that I’m immune to your charms,” she said.

“Yes, I know, and it appears to be true.” He heaved a dramatic sigh. “Undoubtedly, that is why they paired me up with you.”

“So did you find out anything yesterday?”

“Anything aside from the fact that Muggles have too many newspapers? No,” he said. “Did you?”

“Precious little.” She got up from her desk, her notebook in hand. “There’s not much of a description to go on as all anyone can say is that he’s young, kind of tall, and hot.”

“Even the bartenders?” Draco asked.

“Even them. I had thought they’d have a different perspective but . . . well, he’s probably been using a glamour.”

“That’s one thing that helps us then,” said Draco. “Whoever it is not only got an Owl in Charms, but went on to take advanced course. He probably passed his N.E.W.T. in Charms as well.”

Hermione nodded. “I’ve already sent to Hogwarts for a list of wizards who did that. I don’t suspect that it will be a small list, but it’s something.”

“Any word on how the lab is going on the exact composition of the love potion he uses?”

“It’s going to take some time. I spoke with them earlier, and apparently it’s a complicated one.”

“Which probably means he got an Owl in Potions as well. Did you get that list?”

“No, I didn’t think of it,” Hermione admitted. “Could you . . . ?”

“Ask Snape for it? Of course. Though he’d give the list to you, especially for a case like this,” said Draco.

“I know. But I’d rather not have to ask him for anything if I can help it. Too many bad memories of sarcastic remarks from him while at Hogwarts,” she said.

“Not that you Gryffindors didn’t give him a hard time in return,” said Draco.

“We did not!”

“Fine, fine. I don’t feel like debating that right now.” He looked at her critically, noting the bags under her eyes. “How about we switch roles today?” he offered. “You can do the research, while I do the interviews.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Some of those girls . . . well, it’s still very recent for them. I don’t think they’d be very comfortable with . . . and someone might . . . . . ” Her voice trailed off, as she wondered if she should continue that thought. Well, since she started to say it anyway, she might as well finish it. “And I hate to say it, but someone in the case might look at you and think that it’s you. Because the description is vague enough that you fit into it. And your family’s reputation is such that . . . .”

Draco clenched his jaw and leaned back in his seat. “Do you think that I . . .?”

“No. Don’t be ridiculous.” Hermione shook her head violently. “I know you better than that. You wouldn’t do that. I only . . . I only said that to warn you, that’s all. That it might be better to let me handle the public side of the case.”

“Thanks,” he said. “But I think I could have seen that coming.” He sighed. “But I could use your help in the research department. Like I said before, there are too many newspapers out there to cover.”

“But I really ought to go and interview—”

“I doubt you’ll get much more out of them.” He rose from his seat and crossed the room. He hoisted himself on to her desk before continuing. “You did say that he was using a glamour. They’re Muggles. They can’t be expected to see through that. If it was powerful enough, even a trained wizard would have problems seeing what lay beneath.”

Hermione bit her lip. On one hand, she didn’t know if she could stand another day full of those painful interviews . . . and they did have the Muggle police’s notes to go from. On the other hand, however, she had a duty and she couldn’t very well shirk it.

“And you would not be derelict in your duties if you helped me,” said Draco. He wagged his finger in front of her. “I know that was what you were thinking. We haven’t been partners for the last five years for me not to learn something about your thought processes. Our best bet is to figure out what newspapers he’s been hitting so we know what clubs to cover this weekend.”

She considered what her partner was saying. What she wanted to do was to find some clue that would break the case wide open, but she knew the chances of that was almost nil. He was right. The most likely way they would find the perpetrator was for them to cover the club he was planning to strike at next time. And without a doubt there would be a next time. He had no reason to stop.

“Fine,” she said, rising from her chair. “Let’s go. Have you ordered all the papers to come here or do we have to—”

“We get to visit your favorite place, Hermione,” Draco said grandly, as if conferring a favor. “And read them there until we do get copies.”

She shook her head at him and his antics, as she gathered her scarf, wrapping it around her to ward off the morning’s chill. Together they walked out of their office and made their way to the nearest Muggle library to comb through the papers. Hermione quickly checked to see if any computers were free. When she saw there were none, she returned to the table where Draco had gathered a large assortment of available newspapers for them to peruse. As Hermione painfully flipped though the sheets to read through each one, she wished once again that computers would function better in the Wizarding world. It would be so much easier to turn on a computer in their office and use a search engine on all these articles instead of having to go through them by hand. That would even be easier than bringing all the papers to their office and using a finding charm; certainly, it required less effort. Hermione had not been able to determine precisely why Muggle devices didn’t function too well in the Wizarding world; it had something to do with magical fields interfering with electrical fields, which went way over her head. Magical theory she could understand, but she had stopped her Muggle schooling at a young enough age that her grasp of physics was very basic indeed. It didn’t matter in any case. It took a great deal of magic to shield a computer from such interference, especially as it required several shields in place, and so their department had none. And it was likely it would never have a single computer while Moody remained in charge. That man was suspicious of anything and everything new.

As if thinking of him was enough to summon him, Moody appeared at their desk, wearing the most outrageous pair of Bermuda shorts she had ever seen, a little over an hour after they had arrived. She could sense the familiar sensation of a privacy shield dropping into place around them. Hermione looked Moody up and down, before saying, “If I had known you were going to drop by to brighten our day, I would have brought a pair of sunglasses.”

“Make that two, Hermione,” Draco put in.

“Enough with that, the both of you,” Moody said gruffly. “I am your boss, you ought to remember.”

“What brings you here?” Hermione asked. “Care to help us research?”

“Not bloody likely. I’m here to drop another case on you,” he stated.

“Another one?” Hermione said.

“Don’t we have enough already?” Draco complained.

“This one should interest you personally, Granger,” he said.

“Oh? What is it?”

“There’s a plot to kill Harry Potter.”

“That’s news?” asked Draco.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” said Hermione. “There’s always some plot or other to kill Harry. The poor boy’s been having to live with that for all his life.”

“I thought you would be more excited considering that it’s your best friend’s life that is at stake.”

Hermione put down the paper she was reading to stare Moody in the eyes. “You cannot honestly expect me to believe that this is a serious threat,” she scoffed. “They’ve all failed miserably in the past, and all we’ve had to do is be there to arrest the idiots who made the attempt. And I’ve told you time and time again that the best way to deal with such plots is to let Harry know so he can do what he does best.”

“That’s not an appropriate attitude for an Auror, Granger,” Moody reprimanded her. “Potter is a civilian. Don’t forget that. He had the choice to join us, but told us—”

“He told you where you could stick your offer,” Hermione said, fondly recalling that exchange. After too many years of being manipulated by those older than he who thought they knew better, Harry had been none to eager to sign up for an entire life of the same. While Moody hadn’t been the instigator of any of Dumbledore’s plans to protect Harry, he was involved in them far too often for Harry to trust him.

“Right,” said Moody. “Be that as it may, we still have a clear duty to protect him, whether he likes it or not.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll keep an eye on him. I doubt I’ll get to the assassin before he does, but I’ll watch him when we’re together.”

“You’re being too flippant, Granger. Obviously, you’ve been hanging around Malfoy for too long.”

“Hey! Don’t blame her attitude on me!” Draco protested.

“Why not?” Hermione asked playfully, batting her eyelashes at her partner. “I used to be a sweet, innocent girl until you came around to corrupt me.” She was surprised and gratified to see his jaw hang open. And was that a blush appearing on his cheeks? She hadn’t known he was capable of blushing.

“Enough of that, Granger, Malfoy. Do I have to remind you that there’s no fraternizing between Aurors? You may be our best team, but you’ll be split up if I have the slightest suspicion that—”

“Don’t worry, Moody. I’m not about to challenge Bulstrode for his skinny arse,” Hermione said with a smirk.

“Hermione! Merlin, what an awful image!” Draco thumped his head against the table at her words, as though in pain.

“And here I thought you had more taste than that, Malfoy,” Moody said, matching Hermione’s smirk with one of his own.

“I do not want to be part of this conversation any longer.” Draco looked up and glared at the other two Aurors.

“Have it your way, Malfoy. This concerns Hermione more than it does you, in any case. Though you might want to be around so you can cover your partner’s back.”

His words set a chill down Hermione’s spine. “Okay, Moody. Spill. Is there some reason why you think that this threat is particularly dangerous to Harry . . . and us?”

“Yeah. Do you know who escaped from Azkaban this morning?”

“There was an escape?” Hermione was surprised she hadn’t heard that sort of news earlier. Surely, if that were true, they would have been called in first thing to deal with that.

“Yeah, though we’re trying to keep it secret. Don’t want to alarm the general public.” Hermione frowned. She couldn’t find it in herself to agree with that philosophy. She understood what Moody was saying about not wanting to cause a panic, but people deserved to know what had happened. “Especially when we know who the main target is going to be, as the convict has a grudge against Potter,” Moody went on.

“Will you stop with the dramatics and just tell us who it is?” Draco demanded.

“Lestrange.”

The color drained from Hermione’s face. “Which one?” she asked in a small voice.

“Bellatrix, of course.”

“Damn it!” Draco rose from his chair, his face twisted up in rage. “Fuck you, Moody, for not telling me sooner.” He slammed his fist on the table. “You ought to have told me first thing! Before anyone else!”

“Why?” Moody asked. “It’s Granger’s friend who is the one at risk. And you might take note that she’s not yelling at her superior.”

“Potter’s able to take care of himself. My mother’s not.”

Hermione gasped. That was right. Narcissa and Bellatrix were sisters . . . but as crazy as Bellatrix Lestrange was, Hermione couldn’t believe she would go after her sister. Not when Harry was a much more tempting target.

“What makes you think your mother’s at risk, Malfoy?”

“Because dear Aunt Bella hates me and would kill Mum just out of spite for me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go. Now.” Pulling out his wand, he marched into the stacks, soon after which Hermione heard the soft whoosh of an Apparation spell.

“I think I should follow him,” said Hermione. She didn’t want Draco to go up against his aunt alone. She wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone. Then she looked down at the table, which was still strewn with newspapers. There was still a lot of work to be done here as well. Hermione was torn between following Draco and remaining here to finish the job they had come to do.

“Grunts can do this work, Hermione,” Moody said roughly. “Let me know what you’re looking for, and I’ll get a bunch of trainees to do this for you. Capturing Lestrange is a priority. Though I would prefer if you checked in with Potter, rather than following Malfoy. He can take care of any attempt of his mother to aid his aunt better on his own.”

Hermione glared coldly at Moody. “I don’t think that was his primary concern. He said as much himself.”

“Of course he said that in front of me. He doesn’t want me to officially know his mother’s sympathies, though that wouldn’t affect what I think of him.”

“And here I thought you were suspicious of everyone,” Hermione muttered.

“I am. That includes both you and your erstwhile partner. Now get yourself down to the field where the Magpies practice. Make up some reason to see Potter. I don’t care what, just do it. And that’s a direct order, so don’t try to ignore it.”

“Fine,” Hermione said. She quickly scribbled down some notes for Moody, so he could see that someone else continued their research here. When that was finished, she strode off towards the loo so she could Apparate. Hermione figured that she could check in with Harry before continuing on to Malfoy Manor to make sure her partner wasn’t in trouble. For regardless of what Moody thought, Harry was able to take care of himself if you simply told him what was going on. As for Draco, however, Hermione didn’t know if he could fight his aunt the way she needed to be fought.

Hermione, on the other hand, had been waiting for a second chance to go at Bellatrix. This time, she wasn’t going to go down so easily.

Once at the practice pitch that was home to the Magpies, Hermione briefly considered bypassing security. While the Magpies’ security was extolled as the best in the entire league, she didn’t think much of it. There was one time, soon after she and Draco had first become partners, when they had to break through it to get to Harry because of another assassination attempt that their department had uncovered. It had taken only a few minutes before they had made their way past through the brunt of the Magpies’ security. And that was when they were little better than rookies.

Deciding that now was not the time to show the Magpies just how weak their guards were, she stopped at the gate and flashed her badge. She regretted her decision then as the arsehole at the gate took his time in checking her credentials, squinting suspiciously at her badge as if it were a fake. He was costing her valuable time, time that she needed desperately. She was about to bite off a sharp remark about how she was going to haul his arse in for obstruction (of what, she’d figure out later), when she caught sight of her best friend as he made his out for lunch.

“Harry!” She waved at him. “Over here!” The guard grunted at her, saying something about leaving famous Harry Potter alone, but she ignored him. Obviously he was not worth her time if he couldn’t even put two and two together, and figure out that she was one of Harry’s best friends. Hearing her voice, Harry trotted over to where she stood.

“It’s all right,” he told the guard. “She’s my friend. My best friend in fact.” Harry took a moment to look at Hermione, who appeared to be steaming mad. “And I know she’s an Auror. I wouldn’t stop her next time, if you know what’s good for you,” he told the guard.

“I’m not afraid of a tiny bird like her,” was the reply Harry received. Harry quickly stepped away from the man, fully expecting an array of hexes to come from Hermione, but she merely smiled.

“I’ll get him next time.” Hermione winked at Harry. “More time to think of unusual curses, whose counters aren’t that well-known.”

“So come to treat me to lunch?” Harry asked as they walked side by side.

“I wish.” Hermione sighed. “But this visit is business, not pleasure.”

“Let me guess. Someone else is out to kill me, and since Moody is a paranoid son of a bitch, he sent you to warn me.”

Despite the situation, Hermione found herself grinning ruefully. “This has happened too many times before, hasn’t it?”

“It has. I think the best time was when you walked in on me casting Stupefy on a pair of them. You were a little late then.”

“I know, I know. I’ve told him that we should just owl you, out of courtesy, and then get out of your way . . . but will he listen to me?”

“No. Because—” Harry deepened his voice in a passable imitation of Moody. “We can’t trust a civilian to take care of himself.”

“Not even if that civilian happens to be the most powerful wizard in the world,” Hermione added.

Harry hung his head bashfully. Hermione was struck at how he could remain so modest, after defeating Voldemort and his personal guard single-handedly. Heck, he was modest when it came to his skill at playing Quidditch, though he was widely recognized as the best Seeker in all of England. “I don’t know about that,” said Harry. “Dumbledore’s still around. Then there’s you. You know loads more spells than I do.”

Hermione blushed at the compliment. You would think that by now she would have learned to take them with grace, but she hadn’t. Especially one such as that as she knew she didn’t deserve it. She was no where near as good at magic as Harry. She had to read books and study theory in order to improve. Harry, on the other hand, seemed to know magic instinctively, as if he were merely remembered something he had learned before. She remained astounded at the fact that he had managed to produce a Patronus at such a young age. Truly, there had never been a wizard quite like Harry Potter.

“I’m not that good,” she wound up saying.

“Yes, you are,” he said. “And you should know it. But is there anything else I should know, aside from the fact someone’s out to get me again? And if not, care to let me treat you to lunch?”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I have to make sure that Draco is okay,” she said.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “I thought he was able to take care of himself.”

“He is . . . normally. But this is a special case.”

“Considering that it’s my life at stake, care to tell me why?”

“Because a former Death Eater has escaped from Azkaban, that’s why.”

“Another one?” Harry gaped in disbelief. “That’s the fifth this year. Why don’t they just install a revolving door down there? That might keep them in better. Some of them are bound to get confused on the way out and go back in.”

“I know. And this is all off the record. Moody doesn’t want the public to know.”

“Why? Because he’s afraid of another burst of public outrage at how easy it’s become to break out of Azkaban ever since they’ve chucked the Dementors?”

“You know it. I don’t agree with his policy, but on the other hand, I don’t want any idiots to suggest that we bring those things back. I’d rather have to hunt down former prisoners every week than know those things are living so near to us.”

“I hardly think they live, Hermione,” said Harry. Then he stopped in his tracks. “It’s Bellatrix, isn’t it?” he said, his face hardening. Hermione nodded, shaken by the sudden change in his aura. Sometimes, it was easy for her to forget, amidst all the conversations and jokes they had each day, how deadly Harry could be when he made up his mind to be so. She supposed that Bellatrix Lestrange would be lucky if Hermione got to her first. Her grudge wasn’t as strong as Harry’s. But then, she hadn’t been as close to Sirius as Harry had been.

“What makes you think Malfoy’s in trouble?” Harry asked, breaking the flow of her concentration.

“He seems to believe that his mother will be a prime target for her. He said something about his aunt hating him and—”

“If she hates him, then he’s right. That’s the sort of witch Bellatrix is. Which is good. It’s nice that she’s predictable in some ways as that makes it easier to track her down.”

“Harry,” Hermione said reproachfully. “That’s not your job.”

“No, it’s not. And I am glad that I’m not an Auror, as I don’t know how I’d manage taking orders from Moody and his ilk. But I am entitled to defend myself against attackers.” Harry smirked. “If she comes after me, she’ll live to regret it.”

“You won’t—”

“I won’t try and find her, and I won’t use an Unforgiveable, if that’s what you’re worried about, Hermione. I’m not like your boss.” His tone was sharp, making Hermione wince at his words.

“I don’t use them either, and neither does Draco,” she said quickly.

“I know, but I also know that authorization stands. Though I suppose I can hardly complain, otherwise I’d have been in trouble after that last fight. In any case, you’d better get to Malfoy. And I’d better warn security.” Harry turned around and walked back the way they came.

“Why?” Hermione called out after him. “Do they have new measures to guard against—”

“No,” Harry said flatly. “To let them know to get out of her way if they see her coming. I can take care of her. They can’t. And I’ll be damned if I let her kill anyone else while I’m around.”

After checking to see if there were any Muggles around, Hermione Apparated and arrived right outside Malfoy Manor. She made her way in, holding back a smile at the thought that a Muggle-born witch was now allowed free access to the ancestral seat of the Malfoys. Narcissa Malfoy had opposed the wards being altered to include her amongst those who were welcomed there, but she had been overruled by her son, who was the current lord of the manor after the death of his father. Yet though Hermione could visit at any time, Narcissa was never polite to her. The best Hermione could hope for was for Draco’s mother to ignore her. There had been a couple times when Hermione had used a silencing charm on the woman, because she was afraid she would seriously injure her partner’s mum if she had to continue to take such verbal abuse.

Cautiously proceeding inside, she gripped her wand in her right hand, just in case she needed it. It paid to be careful when a Death Eater of Bellatrix Lestrange’s stature was around. Sirius hadn’t been, and he had paid the ultimate price. Finding the entrance hall empty, she walked further in, her eyes constantly darting to the side, checking to see if there was anyone hiding in the shadows. When she reached the main hall, Hermione felt her knees almost give out from under her.

They had been too late.

Rushing forward, she quickly covered the distance that separated her and her partner. Draco was knelt down beside his mother’s body, tears looming in his eyes. He looked up as Hermione reached him and said in a shaky voice, “She’s not dead.”

Hermione bent down beside him and checked his mother’s wrist. There was a pulse. She wasn’t dead. But at the same time, she wasn’t all right. Bellatrix must have done something to her. “May I?” Hermione asked, holding her wand over Narcissa’s body.

“Go ahead,” said Draco. “See if you can find any hints as to what that bitch did to her. I had no luck.”

With a flick of her wand, Hermione cast a reveal charming, which brought the magic that chained Narcissa’s body to light. She bit her lip, not liking the pattern she saw. This wasn’t good news at all.

“I can tell it’s some sort of binding spell,” Draco was babbling beside her. “But beyond that, it makes no sense at all to me.”

“It is a binding spell,” Hermione said slowly.

“And? What else?” When she didn’t answer quickly enough, he shook her. “Hermione! What else is it!”

“It’s a binding spell,” she repeated. “It binds her life to the caster.” Draco turned white at those words. “If the caster dies, she does. If the caster wants her to die, she will.”

“That bitch!” Draco stood up all of a sudden and began pacing around. “How the fuck could she do such a thing to her sister! If she hates me, she should try to kill me, not her!” Hermione could only watch as her partner worked himself up into a fury. She knew that after they left here, she would be visiting her parents and seeing that they were safely tucked away. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be able to sleep at night for worrying. It was upsetting to learn that your opponent had no morals and would take violent action against those unable to defend themselves. Hermione supposed she had known that all along, but that had only been intellectually. What had happened to Narcissa brought home the reality of it all painfully.

Then a woman’s shrill laughter filled the air. Both Hermione and Draco spun around, their hands automatically going to their wands. “Like my handiwork, ickle Drakey?” Bellatrix Lestrange asked him.

“Don’t!” Hermione threw out a hand to stop his charge. “She’s not really here. It’s just a spell to project her image.”

“To taunt me, I see,” Draco said through gritted teeth.

“Oh!” Bellatrix clasped her hands together in front of her. “We have a smart Mudblood here. Not smart enough to leave well enough alone the affairs of her betters though. Too bad for you.” She switched her attention back to her nephew. “But you couldn’t even protect dear Cissy. What makes you think you can protect your little Mudblood slut?”

Her body shaking with anger, Hermione reined her first impulse to throttle the self-righteous bitch. How dare Lestrange call her that when everyone knew she had been Voldemort’s slut? But Hermione knew how to get at Bellatrix. She wasn’t here now, but there was a spell that could fix that. Taking her chance while Bellatrix was focused on Draco, Hermione pointed her wand at the image and said, “Reverse—”

At the sound of her voice, Bellatrix’s head whipped around. “I don’t think so,” she snarled before disappearing. Hermione swore as she saw that she had lost her chance, furious that she hadn’t been more careful in her actions. She should have known better than to shout the spell. She should have whispered it instead.

“What was that about?” Draco asked her.

“I was going to use a sort of summoning spell on her. She left a bit of her magic here so she could project her image here after you found your mother like that,” Hermione explained. “That magic is linked to her because it’s her own, and I was going to take advantage of that link to bring her here.” Hermione scowled. “I should’ve known better than to be so reckless. If I hadn’t—”

“It’s just as well, Hermione,” said Draco. “We couldn’t kill her anyway.”

“I wasn’t intending to kill her,” said Hermione. “I was only going to—”

“It doesn’t matter. The second she realized that she was losing, she would have killed Mum. I know it.” Hermione wanted to kick herself for forgetting Narcissa’s condition. She had been so angry that she had forgotten that they couldn’t take action against Bellatrix, not until something had been done to nullify the spell on Narcissa.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, but her apology received no answer.

Draco bent down and gingerly picked his mother up. “Do you know the counter?”

Hermione shook her head sadly no. “I don’t. I’m not sure if there is one.”

“There has to be,” said Draco. “There’s always a counter out there. One can always reverse magic. Always. I’m taking her to St. Mungo’s to see what they can do.” Hermione bit her tongue as he left her. It wouldn’t do to remind him that not all magic could be reverse.

After all, no one had ever found out how to reverse the results of Avada Kedavra.