Be Careful in the Dark

Hermione settled down on her couch and opened her copy of the The Daily Prophet. She pressed her lips together at the headlines. The Death Eater attacks were spreading across Europe. There had been reports in Germany, Spain, and Italy. And now, apparently, France as well.



Crookshanks butted the newspaper with his head, meowing impatiently.



“All right, you big beast.” She lifted the newspaper up and Crookshanks settled into her lap with a proprietary purr. “Are you enjoying your new home?” She asked but he just blinked at her.



She looked around. It was a miniscule flat. The kitchen, living room, and dining room were pretty much the same room. She stuffed a couch and a tiny table in it. Aside from the bookshelves, that was pretty much it. The bedroom was small and in order to use the toilet you had to fit yourself under the sink. But it was hers and that was enough. She’d told Ron and Harry that her parents were helping her out financially. It was even kinda true. She had not mentioned that she’d liberated funds from Aidan’s captors. The cash as well as some very interesting muggle weaponry that she thought would be useful.



Someone began to bang loudly on her front door and Hermione frowned. Who on earth would make such a racket at seven in the morning? Don’t they know some people sleep in late? She shifted Crookshanks to one side, howling his disapproval. She folded the paper as she walked to the door, tossing it on table.



She opened to door to find a banged up Pansy Parkinson sneering at her. She closed her eyes and then opened them again. Yep, still there. Pansy’s hair was tangled and there… it looked like there were leaves in her hair. She had enormous circles under her eyes, one cheekbone had a nasty scrape across it, and her fair skin was chalky.



“Don’t just gape at me, Granger. Get out of the way.” Pansy pushed and entered the flat. “Nice place.” Pansy sneered at she said it but her eyes were big and glassy.



“Uh…” Hermione said, totally drawing a blank on how to handle this situation.



“Shut the door.” Pansy said, making a demanding sweeping gesture with her hand. Her shoulders and arm trembled.



“What are you doing here, Pansy?” Hermione finally managed to choke out.



“Shut that bloody door you stupid bint!” Pansy hissed. Then she burst into tears.



In shock, Hermione swung the door shut.



“Pansy, what are you doing here!?”



“I remember.” Pansy aggressively wiped her face clean of tears.



“What?”



“That night in the corridor. You tried to k-k-kill me. I remember.”



“What?” Hermione choked out. She was repeating herself but, god in heaven, what was going on?



“And I… I don’t want to take the Dark Mark.” Pansy’s face scrunched up as she tried not to cry again.



Hermione raised her eyebrows, shook her head, opened her mouth and closed it again. Finally she said, “I’ll go put on a pot of tea.”



Hermione walked to the stove and turn the burner on underneath her tea kettle. As she walked to the cabinet with the tea looked at Pansy. Despite her disheveled appearance, her body posture and facial expression were the essence of pureblood propriety: upright but not rigid and blankly pleasant. The tears she had shed still glistened on her cheeks.



"Please have a seat, Pansy." Hermione said pleasantly. Pansy smiled back at her just as pleasantly and gracefully sat down in a chair. She crossed her legs at the ankles and folded her hands into her lap. Hermione inwardly shook her head. Purebloods and their strange obsession with the prim and proper.



Hermione measured the tea into the strainer of her teapot. She pulled down a small glass jar full of cardamom seeds. She pulled out three, cracked them open, and added the small black seeds. The kettle whistled. Hermione picked up the kettle, pouring the steaming water into the green teapot.



"I don't mean to be a bother but... why don't you use magic to prepare your tea?" Pansy asked.



Hermione looked up, blinking once before smiling. "I enjoy making the tea as much as I enjoy drinking it. Making tea is like mediation.”



Pansy tilted her head, lips pursing together, but kept her undoubtedly condescending feelings on the matter to herself.



Hermione set the teapot on the table and then returned with cups and saucers. She placed a hand on a cupboard door, formulating her request. She opened it to find a small tray with sugar, lemon, and the best cream she could find. The cupboard was really the only magical item she had in her home and she'd paid a pretty penny for it too. It prevented items from ever rotting or getting stale and had near bottomless storage capacity.



She set the tray down and poured Pansy a steaming cup of tea. She also served herself. There was only silence as they each prepared their tea and took their first couple sips.



"I like the addition of the cardamom." Pansy said.



"Pansy, we're not actually having a pureblooded soiree. We've each had a couple of moments to gather our thoughts... let's return to the matter at hand."



"You're so ill-mannered, Granger." Pansy curled her lip as she spoke.



"Why do you look like you've been rolling around in the dirt?" Hermione ground out, already regretting not tossing this silly chit out on her ear.



"I've known I was going to take the Dark Mark for a long time. Even as a child, I could feel the wrongness in the magic and my parents are so convinced that it is the influx of muggle wizards that is the root of the problem. I'd do anything to fix it." Pansy had tried to keep her face cold but worry lines crept in.



Hermione stared at her blankly. "What?"



Pansy stared back. "What do you mean, what?"



"The wrongness in the magic? What are you talking about?" Hermione set her teacup down. She felt like she did just before she had a big breakthrough in her research... a little tingly and like her forehead was expanding.



"This has surely come up... all the teachers are purebloods. You hang out with that enormous red-headed pack. They'd know." Pansy was shaking her head in disbelief as she spoke.



"Spit it out Pansy or so help me I will strangle you." Hermione leaned forward.



"It's getting harder to reach the magic. I thought all purebloods knew that. And the magic feels... thicker. My grandfather talks about when he was a kid and using magic was like drinking champagne. The magic itself was effervescent. And," Pansy pointed a finger at the ceiling, shaking it as she spoke, "he told me that his grandfather told him the same thing. The magic over the past 1000 years, at least, has been changing and not for the better." Pansy sighed and frowned into her teacup.



Hermione stared into space, pieces clicking together in her mind. Snatches of conversation, the pureblooded unreasoning hatred of muggles, oblique references... such a small thing that everybody thought everyone else knew. It tilted her view of the world one degree, just enough to change everything. Snapping sounds brought her back to the room. She blinked several times and refocused her eyes on Pansy, who stopped snapping fingers.



"You really didn't know, did you?" Pansy said, searching Hermione face with big eyes.



"So, why is that now you don't want to take the Dark Mark?" Hermione side-stepped the question.



Pansy's face shut down and she nervously picked up her spoon and stirred her tea.



"I wasn't allowed to participate or be too involved growing up. I did little stuff but it was kid stuff. Last night was the first time I acted as a full-on participant in the army of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." Pansy stopped and turned her head away.



Silence stretched out between them. When Pansy spoke again, her voice was tiny and shaky. "I killed someone. A muggle." Tears began to fall from her eyes. She snuffled and brushed them away; more fell to take their place. Soon she was sobbing, full-bodied, heart-wrenching sobs. Then, Pansy buried her head in her arms and wailed.



Hermione shifted awkwardly. She didn't know what to do. She should offer sympathy, hold her, comfort her. But Pansy wasn't her friend. In fact, they hated each other. And, it was an awful thing to kill someone. You can't comfort someone, they just have to let it out. So Hermione kept her mouth shut and averted her eyes.



When Pansy had finished and began wiping at her face with the sleeve of her robe, Hermione accio'd a handkerchief and handed it to her.



"I'm never going to kill someone again. What that felt like… can't be right." Pansy wiped her face and quietly blew her nose.



"Pansy..." Hermione let disbelief creep into her voice.



"Never!" Pansy hissed, blue eyes blazing with fervor.



“OK, Pansy, OK.” Hermione said softly. “What are you looking to get from me?”



Pansy glared at her, then sighed and dropped her eyes.



“I need sanctuary. I need a new identity.” Pansy said, knotting her fingers so tightly the knuckles turned white.



“I..” Hermione started.



“I want to be a mediwitch.” Pansy interrupter her, looking momentarily happy.



Hermione sighed and rubbed her temples.



“All right, you take a shower and get some sleep. I’ll contact some people and see what I can arrange. At a minimum, there is going to be veritaserum and wizard’s oaths involved.” Hermione felt a headache spreading up the back of her head. Why me?



Pansy nodded and met Hermione’s eyes with her teary ones. “Thanks, Granger.”



“Thank me if this works out. Right now, all I’ve done is offer you a shower and a bed… and a magic-less one at that.”



“Um, Granger? I don’t know how to work a bathtub that isn’t magical.” A blush spread over Pansy’s cheeks and Hermione wasn’t sure if it was because she was embarrassed about discussing bathtubs or if it was because she had just admitted to not knowing something.



“Bugger. Come on, I’ll show you.”



------



Severus Snape was an excellent double agent and he had the skills that went along with it. But she had always been good at covering all the angles. Many days he left feeling triumphant but she always managed to keep victory out of his grasp. In the end, it was draw.



It was six months before she really felt ready to return to her self-appointed task.