Misunderstood Maledictions | Tomione

The Only One They Need

Wednesday, June 2, 1998

12:54 P.M.

At his words, what felt like an electric shock jolted through Hermione's nerves, and all thoughts of taking on the alias of Dumbledore's ancient Egyptian niece swiftly flew out of her mind. It's time. We are actually going over fifty years back in time. With the help of an illegal spell that is almost impossible to perform. OhMerlinOhMerlinOhMerlinOhMerlin-

Dumbledore's eyes landed on the closest person to his right. "Why don't you go first, Mr. Malfoy?" he suggested heavily.

Draco blinked, nervously sweeping a wave of platinum hair out of his eyes. "Right." With his right hand, his shoved his wand deep into his pocket and straightened up resolutely. "Let's get this over with, then." Hermione saw a steely, hard edge cut across his face, heard it sweep into his voice, saw him set his jaw stubbornly and steel himself for whatever was to come.

Draco Malfoy was determined.

"Good luck," Hermione muttered to him as he moved to the centre of the Room of Requirements. The special room was specifically free of any furniture due to the repercussions the spell was rumoured to cause. Its walls and floors consisted of rather large stones, eerily reminding Hermione of some sort of prison cell. Feeling a bout of panic suspiciously resembling claustrophobia began to grip her nerves, she shoved it from her mind and instead quickly reached out to catch the blond's hand, squeezing it lightly before he moved out of range.

"Don't need any luck, you know. I'm born with it," he smugly informed her. She rolled her eyes as she gave her that infamous Draco wink and a grin, doing a fabulous job of swallowing his fear. "See you on the other side, Granger."

"Yes, I suppose you just won't be able to be rid of me in that world, either," Hermione airily said with a grin, dropping her hand to her side. The joking smile faded from her face when Dumbledore turned to Draco, his wand raised slightly but still hanging, relaxed, from his hand. Her pounding heart jumped to her throat, and she fought to swallow. This is it.

Dumbledore, however, wasn't quite ready yet. He wasn't ready to let them go. Hermione could see the affliction sprawled over his face, and it was obvious that it was killing him to do this. Then again, it might very well kill her to do this... Literally. "Don't forget that I taught Transfiguration at the time. The Transfiguration classroom," he repeated as if to drive in the point. "You must get to the Transfiguration classroom before anyone else sees you."

"Headmaster, we've gone over the people, places, and things of 1944 Hogwarts at least thirty times since we found out about this whole bloody plan five days ago," Draco drawled, his fingers drumming impatiently on the side of his robe. "We've learned so much about it, it's almost sickening. Don't worry."

"Yeah, we know more about them than they do," Ron added. Ginny snorted and shook her head disapprovingly at him, and he crossed his arms defiantly. "Well, we do!" he protested defensively.

"Best do it, Headmaster," Harry advised quietly his old mentor from his place at Ginny's side along the far wall, his hands tightly interlaced with hers. They, along with Hermione, Lavender, and Ron, were standing as far away from Draco and Dumbledore as the room allowed.

For the briefest of moments, Hermione wished that someone was standing beside her like Harry was Ginny, each a rock for the other, and holding her hand like that, but she quickly shook her head. The random things one thinks about at one of the most crucial moments in their life!

In the foreground, Dumbledore sighed heavily, the tired breath of an old, defeated man. Even his pointy blue-mooned wizard's hat drooped a bit in regret, but he trained his eyes on Draco, his words suddenly clipped and professional. "Very well. Mr. Malfoy, are you prepared for any effects that this spell may cause?"