Dark Mark

Chapter 16

Hermione Granger was a very busy witch.

She had packing to do, goodbyes to say, and a hormonally imbalanced former Deatheater to keep off her as she ran about trying to accomplish everything in the shortest timeframe possible. The quicker they were on their way, the better. She pushed Barty off her neck for the third time in as many minutes and popped open her trunk, debating on whether to fold her clothing neatly or just toss it in and get gone. The obsessive side of her nature won out and she began meticulously arranging her things, despite the knowledge that they would just wind up tangled later when the baggagehandlers got hold of her luggage.

"What exactly were you trying to accomplish in there?" she asked, yanking a brassiere away from Barty. "I mean, all the yelling and furniture bashing in your cell. What was that about?"

"Oh that..." Barty sat on the edge of her bed, holding one of her shoes in his hands. "Well to be perfectly honest, I really did intend to use you as a human shield on my way out of the castle. But I was going to kill that Potter kid first."

He held the shoe up in front of his face, peering at it. "You have the tiniest feet!"

Hermione stared at him in disbelief. "You planned on killing Harry?"

"Yup. Made a real pudding of it though, didn't I. Didn't expect to give a shit about my victim. You ruined me, missy."

Hermione was dumbfounded. "Why would you want to kill Harry?"

Barty looked at her. "Why? Because he's Harry Potter, of course. For one, I know he was partly responsible for bringing me down in the first place. Second, offing the little punk would bump me to the top of Voldemort's 'happy-with' list without having to do much in the way of real dirty work. And third....you know you really do have doll feet, how do you walk on something that small??"

Hermione snatched the shoe away and dropped it in her trunk. "Your third reason?"

Barty looked confused for a moment.

"...well, I suppose it was just to be evil."

"So what changed your mind?" Hermione was staring at him quizzically, her head tilted to one side in a beguiling way that tugged at Barty's heartstrings.

"Well, to be quite honest...."

He hesitated, searching for the right words. He couldn't find them, so he just blurted out the hard cold facts.

"I fell in love. With you."

"We've already established that fact," Hermione said, her tone softening. "Is that what really did it?"

Barty nodded, almost sadly. "Yup, 'fraid so. I was the perfect Deatheater too, always up for a tussle, ready to obey orders at a moment's notice, frightfully obedient to badness and disgustingly willing to do just about anything as long as it involved death, murder, may---"

"Yes yes I know," Hermione interrupted impatiently, "Mayhem, destruction, explosions, disfigurement, yada yada yada."

"Ahhh yes," Barty exclaimed gleefully, his eyes taking on a faraway look, "Explosions. Loved those."

"Well I'm afraid you won't be doing much of that sort of thing anymore, seeing as how the Ministry's revoked your right to a wand and your magic is now limited to household chores."

"Yes...sucks, that. I was a good wizard. I miss my wand, they broke it when I went to Azkaban you know. Nice, sleek, 13 inch maplewood with a semi-gloss finish, had a dragon heartstring in it. Very nice wand."

Hermione dropped the books she was packing and stared at Barty in surprise.

"What did you say?"

"My wand, they shattered it when I went to---"

"No no, after that, what kind was it?"

"Maple with a dragon heartstring. Why, what's wrong?"

Hermione picked up her own wand from the trunk and turned it over in her hands, stroking the vinewood lovingly.

"My wand has a dragon heartstring in it."

Barty took it from her hand and admired it, weighing it in his palm, turning it over to see how the finish caught the light.

"Well fancy that. We must be kindred spirits, you and me."

They met eyes, and Hermione saw in Barty's gaze that he was telling the truth, completely. She wished she had been as honest as he had been in this whole sordid event. Besides, of course, the lies he'd told about why he was coming to the castle in the first place...turning himself in had never really been in the picture, she knew now. She shuddered inwardly as the realization finally began to sink in that she was, for all intents and purposes, marrying a Deatheater---a disciple of The Dark Lord. What if the Cleansing hadn't really worked? Dumbledore had never done the procedure before, who was to say he knew what he was doing?

And who was to say Barty wasn't lying about the Darkness being gone...?

Ginny broke the uncomfortable silence as she entered the room, stopping in the doorway to ask if Hermione was ready yet.

"No, not quite yet," Hermione answered, casting a nervous glance at Barty. He had stretched out on her bed, his hands tucked behind his head, his long legs crossed at the ankles.

"Go on ahead, love, I know you've got goodbyes to say. I'll wait right here, catch myself a short nap."

Hermione was uncertain about leaving him alone and unsupervised. "Are you sure?"

"Go on," he urged, rearranging the pillow. "I'm sure Dumbledore's got this place locked down...I won't be going anywhere." He smiled at her, a completely charming, disarming grin that made a warm blush rise in Hermione's cheeks. "You have my word as a reformed bad guy. We're big on our word, you know."

Ginny gave Hermione's arm a tug. Hermione gave Barty one last look, still unsure about leaving him, then shrugged and turned to follow Ginny down the stairs. He was probably right, Dumbledore wouldn't be so negligent as to leave any way for him to escape.

But would he have wanted to...?


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