wl_mods (wl_mods) wrote in wizard_love, @ 2009-03-19 00:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | *fic, cedric, ginny, hermione, oliver |
Special delivery for wizard_love
Title: Silk & Cyanide
Author: nephthysmoon
Recipient's IJ/LJ name: wizard_love
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Cedric/Hermione, Oliver/Ginny
Word Count: 8083
Warnings (if any): First Time, Blood Magic
Summary: When Hermione answered the summons from the Head of the Department of Mysteries, she never expected to be thrown deep into a world of ancient magic, resurrected dead people and time travel?
Author's notes: I took the liberty of incorporating aspects of the Karen Marie Moning Highlander books series into the story. I hope you like it.
Hermione sat in Janus Croaker’s office two hours after midnight, wondering why the head of the Department of Mysteries had called her into the sacred womb of the Ministry’s most secretive studies. Despite being roommates with Ginny Weasley for the past five years, she still knew little about what went on in the bowels of the Ministry beyond what she’d witnessed herself in her fifth year at Hogwarts. There was little Ginny could tell her about her job, other than the fact that the younger woman was an Unspeakable, occasionally called into the field to study – well, whatever it was that she studied. Hermione blew out a large sigh.
Ginny had been off on one such expedition for the past three weeks, in fact, and it finally occurred to Hermione that something may have happened to her friend. Molly Weasley’s insistence that her youngest child remain out of the fray during the Battle for Hogwarts had ensured that she survived the encounter, but the rest of the family had not been so fortunate. Molly herself had not lived to see Voldemort vanquished – the Dark Lord had killed her the instant he realized that she’d managed to defeat Bellatrix Lestrange. The twins had perished together when the ceiling in the seventh floor corridor had collapsed in on them during the battle, and Arthur had simply vanished. Bill had taken a curse meant for his wife, and Ron – Hermione brushed the memory aside. If Ginny were gone, she didn’t know what she would do. Harry’s sacrifice while duelling Voldemort after Molly’s death hadn’t been unexpected, but it still hurt.
Charlie had been a doll, taking a position with the Dragon Keepers in Britain so that he would be at the Burrow to look after the two of them while they finished Hogwarts, but he’d left three years before to return to Romania, and she and Ginny had taken a flat together in London. Ginny’s hours were often odd, mired as she was in her research, but she frequently resurfaced to remind Hermione to put down the book and eat, or go out to The Three Broomsticks and listen to Seamus sing – and even occasionally to date. Hermione sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying the tender flesh with them, hoping that this unexpected meeting wasn’t to tell her that the one person she had left in the world had died.
Janus Croaker walked in, breaking her into her thoughts, and she turned to him with a wan smile, waiting to see what he had to say. The man was positively ancient, and he shuffled across the room to sit facing her at his desk.
“Ah, Miss Granger,” he said in his rough voice, and Hermione was struck by the very Ginny-ish thought that he had certainly been named appropriately, for the old man’s voice could only be described as a croak, but she stifled the laughter that threatened to bubble up. “I suppose you must wonder what it is that I need with the most prominent member of the Department of Magical Creatures.”
“Yes, sir,” she said quietly, waiting for the bad news she was certain was coming.
“It has come to my attention that you recently investigated the appearance of several supposedly mythical creatures that appeared across Britain,” he offered with a smile, shuffling through a stack of parchment on his desk. “Yes, here it is.” He pulled one sheet out and offered it to her. As she took it, she realized that it was her own report, filed with her Department several months before.
“It was quite impressive, Miss Granger. You debunked a long-standing ‘fact’ that lamiae were extinct by finding that one up in the cave over in Kyleakin.” She handed the report back. She knew what was in it, but she didn’t understand how it was of interest to this man. “We have another situation on our hands, dear girl, one we were hoping to enlist your aid in.”
Hermione nodded. It began to make sense. Thank goodness, but it wasn’t about Ginny at all. The Department of Mysteries wanted to borrow her for a time. A familiar thrill raced up her spine; it had been a long time since she’d gotten this excited about an assignment – her successful attempts to free House Elves had been the highlight of her career thus far, and though she had been instrumental in making many changes in how the Ministry viewed magical creatures (even going so far as to get the department’s name changed, removing ‘regulation and control’), she found that, her goal accomplished, her enjoyment in her work was beginning to wane. A new assignment, with such an intriguing department, could only serve to help her find passion in her work again.
“It has come to my attention that while you were in Kyleakin, you discovered a handful of ancient wards, wards you were unable to break,” he said quietly. Hermione pursed her lips; it never failed to irk her when she found a spell she couldn’t break, and those wards had been impenetrable. It had been one of the most infuriating days in her adult life.
“I did,” she acknowledged. “They were exceedingly difficult to trace; it was almost as though they had been concealed by a method not known to modern magic.”
“You’re more right than you know,” Croaker muttered mysteriously. “I would like you to be part of a small team I am sending to Kyleakin to investigate those wards - and whatever they are concealing.” Hermione sucked in a breath. Spend weeks in the field trying to break impossible spells with a team of Unspeakables? It sounded fascinating. And who knew what lay beyond the wards! It could be anything.
“Who else would be on this team?” she asked curiously. “And when would we leave?”
“The rest of your team will be arriving shortly. Two are members of my staff, and one is,” he paused so briefly she wasn’t sure if he realized he’d done so, “a specialist, of a sort. His exact skills and position are the best-kept secret of my department, and that is saying quite a lot. During the course of your investigation, he may do or say things that are incomprehensible to you, but he is the team leader, and I trust that you will respect that.”
“I understand,” she agreed. Clearly, whoever the team leader was, the man was a half-breed of some sort, with abilities that would help in their investigations. A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts as she tried to puzzle out what magical creatures could mate with wizards and which would most likely have the skills that would benefit this mission.
“Come in,” Croaker called, and the door opened to reveal someone Hermione had never thought to see in this life. “Ah, Mr. Diggory, please join us.” Cedric Diggory made his way into the room, followed by Ginny, who smiled mischievously at Hermione’s blank look.
“Cedric and I are joining you, of course,” Ginny said quietly.
“Cedric?” Hermione croaked. “But how in the name of Dumbledore! No spell can reawaken the dead!”
“Aye,” came a voice from the doorway, and Hermione looked up to see Oliver Wood leaning against the door frame with a peculiar look upon his face. “Nae spell can reawaken the dead, but Aoibheal can.”
“Ah-veel?” Hermione stuttered. “What is that? A potion?”
“Nay, Aoibheal is not a potion, and I dinnae think she’d teak too kindly to being called such,” Oliver warned. “’Tis best we wait until we’re in the Motherhouse to discuss it further, though. I can see yer full of questions; always were a bit like tha’ as I recollect.”
“It’s alright, Hermione,” Ginny said soothingly. “It’s part of the mission and it’s something we’ll need to discuss privately.”
“Mr. Wood, I’m putting them in your hands,” Croaker said jovially. “I know you’ll exceed expectations. I rather think it will be a bit before I see any of you again, so I shall wish you a safe and productive journey. No matter what should happen out there, I want you all to make sure you take every precaution. We are dealing with a magic far beyond any we’ve ever encountered before.” Hermione barely noticed the tug on her arm as Ginny pulled her to her feet and out the door. She kept staring blankly at Cedric, wondering how such a thing was possible. Who was this Aoibheal and what power did she possess that she could do that which Dumbledore himself said was impossible?
As she became aware of her surroundings, she took in the sumptuous environment of what appeared to be a very large manor home. “Welcome to the Motherhouse,” Ginny offered, tugging her along a grand hallway and to a flight of stairs. “You’ll be in the room next to mine tonight, but I expect you’d like a little explanation first.” Hermione nodded mutely. How in the world had they ended up in this house? She didn’t recall leaving the Ministry. Her usually genius brain was swirling through every possibility it could conjure to explain the current events but nothing was coming to mind. Perhaps, she thought sulkily, this is my comeuppance for always knowing the answer.
They turned into a cosy lounge, filled to the rafters with books. Hermione allowed herself to be seated in a chair nearest the blazing fire and as the warmth of the flames penetrated the fog in her mind, she looked around the room, her gaze stopping as she landed on the unmistakeably alive Cedric Diggory, seated across from her.
“What is going on?” she managed to say. Her tongue was thick in her mouth and she swallowed several times. From the corner of her eye, she noticed that Oliver nodded at Ginny, as though giving her permission, and a moment later, her friend was crouching on the floor in front of her, bright brown eyes with the faintest hint of green at the centre boring into her own.
“I know you’ve always wondered what I do for the Department,” she began. “The truth is, I study the Fae.” Ginny paused to let the meaning of this sink in. Faery were legend, every first year knew that. They’d never existed, not in the form Ginny was clearly speaking of. “Despite popular belief – a belief strongly endorsed by the Department, I might add – Fae are quite real. But until a year ago, there were no records of them – nothing to tell us anything about them except old legends. In other words, we had no hard proof, only faint traces of magic too powerful for any wizard to have performed.”
“A family was discovered, one that had been charged with keeping the Covenant between wizards and the Fae,” Cedric explained. “The family line had died out, and a small portion of their records came into the hands of the Ministry. Minister Shacklebolt immediately understood the ramifications, and took it to Mr. Croaker.”
“And that was where I came in,” Ginny explained. “I’d been charged with the task that all new Unspeakables are given – delving into the lore of the Fae to search for some way to find them. I couldn’t do it, of course. The information we had at the time was so vastly inaccurate that it is a wonder we knew anything at all. But since it was my department then, Mr. Croaker passed the one tome that was recovered to me.”
“But who recovered it?” Hermione demanded. “Surely it didn’t just fall into Kingsley’s lap? And that still doesn’t explain Cedric!”
“Yer righ’,” Oliver said. “It dinnae ‘fall’ intae th’ Minister’s lap. I gave it tae him. I dinnae think ye ken the full impact of wha’ Weasley’s telling ye. The hows dinnae matter. And as for Diggory, Aoibheal brough’ him back – tha’s all ye need to ken.”
“Wood!” Ginny snapped, clearly surprised at his tone. “Hermione is completely uninitiated into this! Have a little patience!” He glared at her, but surprisingly enough, the big man didn’t argue with her. He just nodded, as if to tell her to continue her story.
“Wood recovered the book from the last member of an ancient clan and brought it immediately to the Minister,” she said quietly. “Two days later, Cedric just kind of appeared out of nowhere. I’ll let him tell you about that, but the point is that we’ve been asked to go on this mission because of those wards you found. Wood is – a freelance specialist, I guess you can call him. He doesn’t have an official title, but he knows more Fae lore than anyone I’ve ever met. He’s here because Mr. Croaker truly believes that Wood is the best person to help us break those wards and discover what’s hidden behind them. Cedric actually met the Queen of the Fae – Hermione, imagine it! And I’m here because this is what I’ve been studying for the past three years.”
“Three years?” Hermione looked surprised. “I thought you didn’t get the book until a year ago.”
“We didn’t – all we had was the old records, and I worked with those for two years. When the book showed up, it was given to me to study.” Ginny reached out and braced her hands on Hermione’s knees, giving the older woman a pleading look.
“And why am I here – I don’t know anything about these Fae.” She was almost ashamed of it. For the first time in a long time, she was in a room with people who knew more about a given subject than she did, and she felt inadequate. Clearly the three of them were better equipped to handle this than she was.
“Besides the fact that you found the wards, which indicates a certain sensitivity to Fae magyk, you’re the cleverest witch in Britain, Hermione,” Ginny teased. “Of course we need you.” Cedric nodded silently, but Oliver stared unblinkingly into the fire, apparently lost in his own thoughts.
“Okay,” she muttered. “What exactly are we doing?”
“Wood thinks the wards you found are the ones we’ve been searching for,” Ginny explained. “The rest of that clan’s library is probably hiding behind them, and if we can just get to it we’d have so much more material – we’d know everything about them!”
Clever witch that she was, Hermione looked from Ginny to Cedric and finally at Oliver. “What aren’t you telling me?” she asked shrewdly.
“There’s something of a time limit,” Cedric said ruefully. “Aoibheal warned me before she sent me back that the Covenant keeps the dark Fae imprisoned in their realm. We have until Halloween to find the Covenant and keep up the humans’ side of it, or Aoibheal will be powerless to prevent them from escaping.”
“Dae ye ken now, Granger?” Oliver growled. “The dark Fae will wreak such havoc upo’ the world as to make Voldemort look like a wee lad.”
“They must be stopped, Hermione,” Ginny said quietly. Hermione stared down into those familiar eyes, wondering when the weight of the world had shifted onto the younger woman’s shoulders. Had it been when she’d discovered the truth about these Fae, or had it begun even earlier than that? Had it happened the moment that Harry had fallen to the hard, cold floor of the Great Hall, the scar that had once proclaimed him to the world as the Boy Who Lived gone, and a look of horror on his face, as though Death had come and shown him terrors that they would never know? When was the last time she’d really seen Ginny, not just looked at her?
“Okay,” she whispered, watching the relief that flooded through Ginny’s eyes. “I’ll help.” There was something else, she mused as Cedric and Oliver excused themselves. Something in what Croaker had said –
“Hermione?” Ginny asked from the doorway, a look of concern on her face, and Hermione realized that she’d been standing there for some time, waiting for her. She stood and joined Ginny, walking through the halls of the manor.
“What is this place?” She looked at Ginny curiously.
“Oh!” Ginny exclaimed. “We never did get to that, did we? This is the Motherhouse.” At Hermione’s blank look, she continued. “When the Department was first founded, there was a lot of curiosity about what happened, and Unspeakables were getting attacked frequently. So the Department Head of the time had this manor constructed for anyone who wanted to live here. It’s only accessible through the Department itself, so it’s practically impenetrable – thanks to some of the more confusing and complex magic we’ve studied over the ages, it quite literally does not exist outside of the Department.”
“But – how?” Hermione asked, gazing out of a window to see a beautiful lawn bordered by tall trees and crowned by a blue-black sky full of twinkling stars.
“It’s really difficult to explain, honestly, but if you can imagine Grimmauld Place and those tents we used for the World Cup and some really tricky Transfiguration, that kind of explains it,” Ginny said, her face scrunching up in concentration as she tried to find the words. Hermione struggled for a moment as she tried to wrap her mind around what Ginny was saying, remembering the many different enchantments that had gone into making Grimmauld Place what it had been, plus the Enlarging Charms that had no doubt gone into the tents, and perhaps a bit of Vanishing…she smiled as she understood.
“I see,” she said. “That’s really quite clever.”
“Well, it’s not as secure as a Fidelus Charm would be, but can you imagine the nightmare of trying to keep it a secret once the Secret Keeper died?” Ginny shook her head as she spoke. “I can’t even fathom how that would be possible. And here is your room,” she said, gesturing to a doorway labelled 164. “I’m right next door, and if you need anything, just poke your head in. From what I understand, we’ll be leaving in about three days. I know it isn’t obvious, but Wood was really happy when Croaker decided to include you. It kind of reminded me of all those stories of that manic Quidditch fever he’d get when he had the team up before dawn to train.” Ginny laughed a bit and waved goodnight before going into her bedroom. Hermione found that she was exhausted. She barely took note of her surroundings before she slipped beneath the covers and off into sleep.
When she awoke the next morning, it was to find the smiling face of Ginny Weasley looking down upon her own. “Wood stayed up all night studying, and once you’ve packed, we’re going to Kyleakin.”
“Today?” she asked groggily. Ginny nodded.
“There’s only a week until Halloween, Hermione,” she whispered, her smile dropping. “We’ve got to find the Covenant and remake it, and we’ve only got seven days.”
“Okay, I’m up. Do I have time to shower, at least?” she snarked.
In less than two hours they were checking into rooms at the White Heather Hotel in Kyleakin. Oliver admitted to being hungry when Ginny pressed him and agreed that breakfast should be their next stop. Hermione allowed herself a moment to savour the beauty of the two-bedroom suite they’d taken before she was tugged, once again, down a hallway and through another door, this one leading to the world outside.
“Th’ lamia’s cave is there,” Oliver said, pointing at a small outcropping along the shore. “By yer report, the wards are due south of it, so tha’s where we’ll be heading.”
They trekked through the hills and lochs for nearly three hours before Hermione felt them – the brushes of magic. It was old magic, magic that was far, far deeper than anything she’d ever felt. They were close to the wards. Oliver had put her in the lead almost an hour ago, saying that it was best to let the person who knew where the wards were lead the way. She held up a hand, pausing in place.
“We’re here,” she whispered. Oliver walked until he was level with her and froze in place.
“She’s righ’,” he too whispered. The press of the wards was nearly stifling to her, but Oliver seemed even more affected and Hermione forced herself to pay attention. Croaker had said something – that Oliver was a specialist. The pause, she mused, watching him carefully, I assumed he’d meant that Oliver was some kind of cross between a wizard and another species. What if –
“Wood, what is it?” Ginny whispered, slipping up behind her team leader. Hermione pushed the thought away. It simply wasn’t possible.
“Th’ wards are stifling – I cannae really breathe,” he muttered. Cedric stepped up to stand on her other side.
“It’s definitely Fae,” Cedric added. “It’s not Aoibheal, but it’s definitely Fae.”
“You recognize her magic?” Hermione asked, turning to face him. Ginny and Oliver were taking exceptionally small steps into the wards.
“I do,” Cedric said quietly, turning towards her. “Because Aoibheal brought me back after Voldemort killed me, I have a small part of her magic in me.” Hermione smiled. It made sense to her, which she supposed she should be grateful for; so little of the events of the past few days had.
“What do you suppose they’re guarding?” Ginny’s voice drifted over to them, and it was with no little surprise that Hermione saw Oliver down on his hands and knees, panting as he crawled.
“I doona ken,” he gasped out. Cedric ran over to offer him a hand, but the stubborn man brushed him off.
“You can’t touch him, Cedric – not as you are now,” Ginny said quietly by way of explanation. “Hermione, give me a hand. We’ve got to drag him off the protected ground.” Hermione ran over to help and the two women pulled him to safety.
“What’s going on?” Hermione asked, slightly out of breath. Oliver was not a small person, and they had dragged him several hundred metres. Ginny looked to Oliver before speaking, and it was only when he nodded that she continued.
“Oliver is half Fae, of course,” she explained. Hermione nodded. It was as she’d expected. “He’s also not really a wizard.”
Hermione’s thoughts raced in circles. Oliver wasn’t a wizard – but that was impossible, for she’d seen him use magic herself. And if he used magic, he must be a wizard – unless he had access to Fae magic. But only Faeries had access to Fae magic – the only humans with that ability were…
“He’s a druid?” Ginny nodded. “Of course – it makes sense. The wards were put up by druids. It’s a sacred circle. So it’s guarding…”
“The stones, Hermione,” Cedric explained, and she turned to him again, her eyes wide. “There are rituals – things that must be done to maintain the Covenant. The last of the ancient druids has vanished. He disappeared a year ago.”
“That’s how Wood got the books!” she exclaimed. It was finally beginning to come clear. “The druid vanished and Wood ended up with them.”
“Exactly. The wards protect the stones, according to my translations, and the castle. And under a stone in the floor of the castle are the rest of the books and the Covenant.” Ginny paused. “But we have to get the Covenant and translate the text for the ritual before Halloween or the Dark Fae break free and then they use the stones and then the world goes to hell.” She took a deep breath.
“And only a druid can perform the ritual,” Hermione guessed, knowing that she was right even before Cedric nodded. “You can break the wards,” she said, looking at Cedric.
“I can,” he agreed.
“Then what am I here for?” Hermione demanded, a brief idea brushing behind her mind before she shoved it ruthlessly aside. They wouldn’t. They were silent. It’s impossible. They were silent. She spun to face Oliver, but he was looking pointedly at his shoes, and the most determined glare she had wasn’t affecting him. Ginny met her eyes, but only offered her a weak smile and a helpless shrug. She turned to face Cedric.
“Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is,” she growled angrily.
“I’m sorry, Hermione. You knew where the wards were – and Ginny told us you were – well…” he trailed off. She felt herself flush red to the tips of her hair. It was suddenly so obvious she couldn’t believe she’d missed it before. Oliver was there to perform the ritual to bind the Covenant again. He was probably going to be the one to replace the wards when they were finished. Ginny was there to translate the texts so that Oliver would know what to do, since it was obvious that Aoibheal hadn’t given her son any knowledge of his powers. And Cedric was there, acting as Aoibheal to break the Faery wards that were in place. And of course, the Fae of legend liked to complicate things.
It was blood magic that the Cedric needed to break the wards, and she was the sacrifice.