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A Tangle of Webs	By : serpentinred Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 10517 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I don't make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Warning: No grammar betas, so read at your own discretion. :)

~-0-~

A Tangle of Webs

Chapter 2

Hermione tapped her forefinger rhythmically against her arm as she sat in one of the chairs against the wall next to a door with the sign "Healer Nerys" hanging from a nail on it. Not that she was a particularly impatient person—well, maybe she was. But under the situation she was in right now, she felt that she was fully justified to be impatient.

"It cost him a fortune of course, and I did tell him not to spend so much money on me, but my husband said that that's the secret to a successful marriage," the woman with short brown hair, sitting across the hallway from Hermione, said to the woman with longer hair.

As usual, after a gloating comment, she would glance at Hermione from the corner of her eye, as if she were trying to find some kind of reaction from Hermione's face.

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes and determinedly kept her eyes focused on the door next to her, hoping that whoever the patient was would come out soon. She wondered what she had ever done to that short-haired woman. Had she somehow cursed her puppy with frog legs or something? Or perhaps the woman fancied the camping trip she had gone on with Harry? Hermione had no idea. She could only conclude that there were some people out there who had nothing else better to do.

"You're soooo lucky, Melicent. I wished my husband was like that," the woman with the longer hair gushed.

"I know. Well, not every woman can be that lucky, but it's actually really easy, and I'll be more than willing to give you some pointers about it, if you want," Melicent said, shooting another glance towards Hermione.

Ah. So that was what the ridiculous woman was trying to get at. Really, it was ages since her divorce with Ron, and it wasn't like their marriage ended up with a headline-worthy fight or fiasco. Hermione had no idea why some people dwelled on old news topics and refused to move on. Nonetheless, she did her best to prevent herself from making a snarky remark. It wasn't what she was here for after all. Besides, she didn't know this woman, so why should she care about what Melicent and her little tag-along were talking about behind her back?

Suddenly, the sign bearing Healer Nerys's name turned into plump, red lips and said in a cool, female voice, "H. Granger."

Resisting the urge to plant a firm kiss on those red lips, Hermione quickly entered Healer Nerys's office without shooting another look at the duo in the hallway. Her eyes slightly became wider when she took in the details of the office after she closed the door behind her. It was as if there had been some kind of raid on the room. Files could be found on top of every available surface in the room. There was even a file leaning against the window behind the desk. Loose pieces of paper were all over the place, and Hermione couldn't help but wonder if some of the torn and crumpled ones were ripped apart by the Healer herself.

"Good day. Sorry for the long wait. I was looking for a particular file and couldn't find it, and medical files can never be Summoned, which makes it rather annoying," Nerys said, running her hand through her hair and shaking her head. "That's the problem with having too many files. You expect to find them in one place and they always end up somewhere else."

That explained the mess.

Hermione allowed herself a small smile. To be honest, she had been expecting someone much older and with a much stiffer personality when Paulina talked about Healer Nerys's expertise. However, she looked rather young and outgoing.

"So, what problem do you have for me today?" Nerys asked after Hermione sat down in the seat in front of the table and handed her back some files that had been sitting in the chair.

One corner of Hermione's lips twitched upwards despite of herself at the Healer's pretense that they were having a normal conversation. Although they hadn't started talking yet, sitting in the middle of something similar to a bomb wreckage most certainly could not qualify for being a "normal conversation."

Recomposing herself, Hermione spoke, "It's not really a problem that I have. It's actually something that I'm curious about. I asked Paulina about it—"

"Paulina? Paulina Marcus?" Nerys asked, her eyebrow shooting upwards to her hairline.

Hermione nodded.

Nerys rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "If you don't mind, please tell her to visit me with her boyfriend soon. It's almost time for … his monthly check-up."

This time, it was Hermione's eyebrows that rose. Nonetheless, she answered, "Okay."

"Sorry for the interruption. You were saying …" Nerys trailed off, gazing at Hermione and prompting her to continue.

"Perhaps you might remember that time while Lord Voldemort—"

Nerys shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

"—was in power, and his Ministry passed a certain propaganda about Muggles stealing magic from wizards and witches. We all know that that's a bunch of lies now, but I was wondering if there's a possibility of a wizard or witch losing their magic through illnesses and such," Hermione said.

Nerys blinked and tilted her head to one side. "Why would you suddenly have an interest in this?"

"Well, it's mostly out of curiosity," Hermione lied. "I just found it strange that people actually believed what the Death Eaters were spreading, so I wondered if there were actually such cases throughout history. However, regardless of what books I looked through, I could not find anything similar to it."

The Healer rubbed her chin with her right hand, and a frown appeared on her face. "Well, I daresay that such cases would never be recorded in history."

Hermione stared at her, and two different questions bubbled to the surface of her mind.

"So there really were such cases in history? If there were, why wouldn't they be recorded, and if they weren't recorded, how did you find out about it?" Hermione asked quickly.

Nerys laced her fingers in front of her on the desk. "Well, I think that it's rather obvious why they wouldn't want to record it down. If some other dark wizards found such information, they wouldn't hesitate to use it for their own means. Too dangerous for the Ministry, so they would never allow that."

"True, but wouldn't it be much safer for the public to know about such information and prepare themselves against whatever might hit them? And if more people knew about the possibility of losing one's magic, wouldn't they be more assertive about finding a cure towards it?" Hermione asked.

A fleeting, sarcastic smile passed over Nerys's face. "I'm not in a position of power to regulate what the Ministry allows to be printed and what not to. Neither am I in the position to criticize what they do."

Hermione opened her mouth and then snapped it shut. She wasn't here to argue with Nerys, even though she found the Healer's decision to stay out of trouble by remaining quiet infuriating.

Upon seeing that Hermione wasn't going to say anything, Nerys continued, "In regards to how I found out about someone losing their magic … you see, most Healers just go through the regular path of studying with other Healers at St. Mungo's, while others choose to become apprentices to Healers who work on their own and not at any hospitals. I decided to follow the latter path, and I studied with three different masters, one of them being the esteemed Chemonzukalikula—"

"Chemonzukalikula? I thought he was a monk, the Head Monk of the Knights of Silence," Hermione interrupted.

Rumored to have been killed by Lord Voldemort himself.

Hermione stopped herself from speaking that thought out loud just in time.

"Oh, did you know him?" Nerys asked, her eyes wide in surprise.

"No, I've just heard about him before from one of my colleagues," Hermione answered.

"Lucky you," Nerys muttered to herself while shaking her head. Then, to Hermione, she said, "He was also a Healer, in addition to being the Head Monk of Knights of Silence. I decided—" A grimace appeared on her face. "—to travel to Tibet and become his apprentice after I left Hogwarts, since I've heard that he was quite knowledgeable in rare diseases that occur to both wizarding folks and Muggles—"

"I thought the Knights of Silence only accepted male students," Hermione said bluntly, unable to stop herself this time.

"That was the tradition, yes," Nerys answered, raising an eyebrow.

It was apparent that she wasn't going to go into details about how and why Chemonzukalikula came to the decision to accept her as an apprentice. Nonetheless, it wasn't important information to Hermione right now, so she decided not to press on.

"So … he was the one who told you about the possibility of one losing his or her magic," Hermione said.

Nerys nodded. "He'd told me that it was unusual but not impossible for these things to happen."

"So it doesn't occur very often," Hermione concluded.

Nerys shook her head. "No, it doesn't. I haven't encountered it at all during my time as an apprentice to Master Chemonzukalikula, nor had I ever had a patient with such an illness. However," she continued before Hermione could open her mouth to ask, "Master Chemonzukalikula himself had encountered a patient like this before.

"It was during his first days at the monastery, which is over four hundred years ago, mind you—don't ask me how he managed to live that long without a sorcerer's stone; I asked but never got an answer—so I don't really know all the details. However, I do remember that he said it was a young Tibetan who had turned to them because she had no options left. She was, indeed, losing all her magic."

"Did they ever find out why or how that happened?" Hermione asked.

Nerys grimaced. "Like I've said, you're very fortunate to not have known Master Chemonzukalikula. He never gave straight answers, and he never told me how it happened, at least, I don't think he did."

The look of someone trying to solve a particularly hard puzzle appeared on Nerys's face as she thought through the things her master had told her.

Well, that's great news, Hermione thought sarcastically. You get an apprentice and decide to not give them straight answers; I'm sure they've learned a hell of a lot from you.

"Did they ever find a cure for it?" she asked with some difficulty.

Nerys sighed, lowered her head, and stared at her interlaced fingers. "Unfortunately, no."

~-0-~

Hermione had no idea how to tell Harry about what Healer Nerys had said. Besides, despite what Paulina had said, she felt that she should get a second opinion before she believed what she was told. Nonetheless, after asking at least three different Healers—and the thoroughly confused, newly appointed Herbology Professor, Neville—Hermione couldn't help but wonder if Healer Nerys and Chemonzukalikula were the only ones who knew about magic loss in wizarding folks.

And that was when it hit her—she should've traveled to Tibet the moment she found out from Healer Nerys about a case of magic loss happening there. So without further ado, she filed for an International Apparition Permit and Apparated directly to Tibet. Since she had read that the monastery had many wards preventing outsiders from Apparating directly into their place, she decided to arrive at the foot of the mountain and traveled up to the monastery by foot. Besides, it was incredibly rude to just Apparate into someone else's place.

Nonetheless, after walking uphill for thirty minutes and still only halfway to the monastery, she was left panting and cursing under her breath. If they didn't had information she wanted, she wouldn't even bother visiting them. Though some of the magic that supposedly came from them was extraordinary, other things reminded her strongly of Trelawney, what with their talks about inner peace and karma.

Karma, my foot. Voldemort never had to spend months and months camping before he got killed by Harry. And floating around in Albanian forests as half of a spirit doesn't count, because he didn't have to live in tents.

Too bad bringing the dead back to life was not an option. If that were the case, she would work day and night to find the way to make Voldemort lose his magic and then make him go on months and months of camping trips.

Amusing herself with thoughts about how she would make Voldemort live in tents and eat random forest weeds made the hiking a bit less tiresome, and soon, she finally saw some white buildings with red roofs in a distance. That was when she noticed how awfully quiet it was. Even though she wasn't near the monastery yet, she still could not make out any sounds of distant chit-chats.

Knights of Silence indeed, Hermione thought to herself.

In fact, she couldn't find a monk in sight as she made her way up to the main building—or at least, what appeared to be the main building. She would've thought that there was some kind of magic that would alert the people inside that there was someone arriving, or perhaps someone to lead the way for strangers. However, even when she'd reached the front door, she couldn't find a sign of a living human, let alone a wizard or monk.

Pushing the questions and confusion to the back of her mind, Hermione knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer. Perhaps she was interrupting some kind of ceremony they were having. Other than that, she could not think of any other reason why there was no one around.

After waiting for about five minutes, she was about to knock on the door again when it opened. A strong, strange aroma filled her nose, and for a moment, she wondered what kind of incense the monks were burning. She had traveled to many places before—temples, mosques, churches of different religions—but she had never smelled anything quite like it before.

A young monk in his teens appeared and glanced at her tentatively.

"May I help you?" he asked.

His question brought Hermione out of her mental analysis of the smell, and she fought down the urge to raise her eyebrows. From what she had heard about the Knights of Silence, they were a strange group indeed, but she had thought that they would've been a bit more courteous to strangers.

"Hi, I'm looking for Head Monk Jareth," she answered.

The young monk scrutinized her for a bit before a frown appeared on his face. "Our Head Monk is currently in the meditative state."

"Oh." She hesitated for a bit before continuing, "I can wait until he comes out of his meditative state. Am I allowed to wait inside the building or do I have to stay outside?"

"I'm sorry, but it is against our rules to provide lodging for females," he said with a bow of his head.

At this, Hermione's eyebrows rose. "How long, exactly, is this meditative state of his?"

"Three months," the young monk answered.

What? She could not wait three months.

"I need to speak to him. It's an emergency. I have questions for him—it's practically a matter of life and death, and I know the Knights of Silence are probably the only one who can provide me with the answers—"

"Who is at the door, Arjun?" another male's voice interrupted Hermione's dialogue.

She bit down hard on her lower lip, knowing that she had accidentally let things slip when she was worried. She couldn't just say that she was curious now because the monks would want to know why she couldn't wait another three months before finding out the answer. She hadn't thought about making up a story in the first place because she had thought that she would get to see the Head Monk immediately; she hadn't realized that he would've decided to take a long meditation break. Now, she would need to think of a story. Fast. However, the smell of the burning incense wasn't helping her dilemma—it was far too distracting for her liking. How in the world do these monks meditate with that odor invading their senses all the time?

The young monk turned his head around and answered, "It's Hermione Granger, Curzon. She wants to look for Jareth."

The fact that he knew who she was hardly surprised her, given the fame that accompanied her since Harry vanquished Lord Voldemort.

Arjun stepped away from the doorway, and a rather large man appeared. If Hermione hadn't been acquainted with Hagrid, she would've found his height and size impressive. As it was, it still took her a few good seconds before she recomposed herself.

"Hello, Miss Granger. I heard that you are looking for our Head Monk, Jareth," the monk, Curzon, said with a deep voice that went well with his appearance.

"Yes. I need to ask him a couple of urgent questions, but I've heard that he's currently in a meditative state that would last three months," Hermione said, schooling her face carefully for she really wanted to scrunch up her nose—a strong gust of that smell crashed into her face the moment the door opened wider.

Merlin, she wondered if the monks didn't choke from burning that much incense. The scent couldn't have been that strong if they used it sparingly.

Curzon nodded. "Indeed."

"But I can't wait three months." She paused, her mind working to create a story as she went along. Then, an idea hit her, and she said, "You see, recently, our Ministry of Magic had received notice about the increased amount of alleged Death Eater activities throughout the world. We are worried that this might be some ploy to revive their fallen master or gain control of the power they had lost."

A frown appeared on Curzon's face. "I've heard about possible activities by former Death Eaters in the past few months occurring across the globe. Even in Tibet, there have been unexplained incidents that were similar to what the Death Eaters had done in the past—"

"There's Death Eater activities here, too?" asked Hermione, alarmed.

That was something she hadn't heard about yet, and apparently, the British Ministry of Magic hadn't been notified about it either.

"We are not sure yet," Curzon answered.

Hermione stared at him. She had no idea why, perhaps it was because he had replied a bit too quickly, but she had the strangest feeling that he wasn't telling her the complete truth. Perhaps it was because the Tibetan Ministry of Magic didn't want any interference from outside countries yet.

Curzon, on the other hand, kept eye contact with her without even so much as blinking. After a while, she dropped her gaze, not admitting defeat but because she wasn't here to find out about the Death Eaters; Harry's loss of magic was far more important right now. She had enough time to find out about it after she sorted out Harry's problem.

"That is why we are worried. We've received notice from several prestigious members of the society—who prefer to remain anonymous due to various reasons—that they feel a sudden change in their casting. It led them to believe that they are losing their magic, so my colleague was given the task of finding out previous cases of magic loss," said Hermione, carefully hiding her thoughts.

Though she had never truly become a master in Occlumency, the feeble walls were enough to let her know if someone were trying to break through them.

Alarm flashed over Curzon's face. "Then the situation is dire indeed if they had somehow learned about the ancient art of stealing magic from others."

"You mean it is possible to steal magic from others? It is possible to lose your magic?" asked Hermione, her anxiety a couple of notches higher than his.

Curzon nodded. "It is, according to our previous Head Monk, Chemonzukalikula, and it occurred nearly four hundred years ago."

"Yes, I've heard about it from Healer Nerys—"

"Ah, so you know Nerys," Curzon said.

"Yes … I've asked her about the possibility of losing one's magic, and she'd mentioned that Head Monk Chemonzukalikula had told her about a case that he had witnessed in the past," Hermione answered with a nod.

"Did she tell you anything else?"

"Not very much, since she said that she didn't know the full details either, which was why I decided to come here and ask Head Monk Jareth about it," replied Hermione.

"I'm afraid Head Monk Jareth wouldn't be able to tell you much about it either, since, he, too, knows as little about it as I do," Curzon said. "The two of us had only heard about it once by Head Monk Chemonzukalikula, and we had never asked for the details, since we neither wanted to learn about the art of stealing magic, nor did we think we would deal with such a case again."

Worry caused a deep frown to appear on Hermione's forehead, and she took a step closer to the monk. "So you're saying that there's definitely someone behind this? It's not something that occurs naturally?"

"We are not sure if the same thing is happening to the people you are talking about. According to Head Monk Chemonzukalikula, someone was behind young Freya's loss of magic. We do not know if this can happen in nature. Magic is a malleable thing, and I wouldn't be surprised if this could happen on its own."

Hermione, however, hardly heard his words. She was racking through her mind, trying to pinpoint the possible suspects. Was it Lord Voldemort? Although she saw him die, one could never be sure about it. The git had the uncanny ability to come back to life again and again, unfortunately, and Harry would be number one on his hit list if he were alive. It made sense for him to want to target Harry again—though Hermione couldn't even begin to mention how stupid it would be for him to do so, due to the amount of times he had failed. She supposed that at some point, tenacity could become stupidity, especially in Voldemort's case.

Other than Voldemort, the only other people who might want to target Harry would be the Death Eaters. It was particularly hard trying to round all of them up after all. Many of them tried to play the "I was under the Imperius Curse" card again, though this time, with the Ministry under Shacklebolt's reign, most of them were thrown straight into Azkaban. Nonetheless, there were still a handful of them who ran free because it was impossible to get a full list of those who had participated in Voldemort's actions. Hermione wondered if it could be some high ranking, unknown Death Eater who was trying to steal Harry's magic.

"Is there any cure for it?" Hermione asked.

Though Nerys had told her that there wasn't, she hoped that it was probably because Nerys interpreted Chemonzukalikula's words wrong.

Her hopes were dashed when Curzon shook his head. "Sorry, Miss Granger. Unfortunately, no remedy was found for it, and since young Freya was the only case that previous monks had ever seen, they had no incentive to find a cure to it."

To say that Hermione was let down would be an understatement; she continued pressing Curzon for answers but to no avail. In the end, it was Curzon who'd given up—he said something about having chores to finish, retreated back into the monastery, and closing the door in Hermione's face.

Words—some of them, not exactly polite—hung at the tip of her tongue, but in the end, after she calmed down, she swallowed them. He clearly didn't have any more information to give her.

Thoroughly upset, Hermione walked down the same path she had come from, finding the trip worse than when she was walking uphill. At least then, she'd had hope that the Knights of Silence would have some sort of answer for her.

How was she going to tell Harry? What could she tell Harry? Magic was like second nature to them; it was almost like breathing. This would be worse than pronouncing the death sentence to him.

With a heavy heart, Hermione reached the Apparition point and turned on the spot, thinking firmly of the British Ministry of Magic, her office. Instead of the familiar feeling of the tug at her navel, a biting coldness traveled down her spine.

She was still in Tibet.

~-0-~

With her heart pounding painfully against her chest, Hermione rushed back to her office when she finally returned to England—after trying fifteen times. Perhaps it was the look on her face or maybe her co-workers knew well enough how snappish she could be when she was busy, but they did not ask and she was left to her own thoughts. However, for once, she wished that they would say something to her—give her a report about someone illegally breeding creatures, suggest a new law to be passed to benefit the trolls—anything to get her mind off what she was thinking right now.

She could not possibly be losing her magic. She was just jumping to conclusions. It wasn't that abnormal for occasional botch-ups when casting. She shouldn't just automatically assume that what was probably happening to Harry was happening to her, too. Besides, she was fretting when she was trying to Apparate. It was one of the basics of spell-casting—one should avoid casting when they were being overly emotional. It interfered with concentration and caused many accidents throughout history.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, she tried her best to calm down. Pulling out her wand, she quickly flicked it at the blank parchment lying on top of her desk.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

A sigh of relief passed through her lips when the parchment floated upwards until it reached the height she had indicated with her wand.

She closed her eyes and concentrated hard on her next spell. Casting spells nonverbally always required more focus, and a simple Incendio was no different. Opening her eyes again, she swished and flicked her wand at the parchment. Her heart sank when nothing happened.

Biting hard down on her lower lips, she flicked and swished again and again but to no avail. The lack of results slowly increased the frustration and fear in her heart. Finally, a burst of flame erupted from the tip of her wand, scorching the parchment and setting it on fire. However, the intensity was much more than she had anticipated, and she quickly slashed her wand through the air again, not daring to cast nonverbally lest the fire got out of control.

"Aguamenti."

The fire, nonetheless, spread on; the tips of the flames licked at the other documents on her table and sparks occasionally sizzled into the air.

"Aguamenti!" she cast again, her voice slightly louder and her heart speeding up yet once again.

Nonetheless, the outcome wasn't what she had wanted; a small sprinkle of water showered over the fire but certainly not enough to put it out. Quickly making up her decision, Hermione stuffed her wand back in her pocket, grabbed the cushion on her seat, and started to put out the fire with it. Thankfully, the fire hadn't spread too much, and after a few well-placed whacks, the last of the flames were put out. Nonetheless, Hermione still had no idea how to react when she took a good look at the damages the small accident had caused. Scorched documents were scattered around the floor and table—some of it must have dropped down when she was busy swinging the cushion at the fire; funnels of smoke twirled upwards, towards the ceiling; and black marks blotched her formerly immaculate, redwood table.

She slumped down into the chair, staring unseeingly at a particularly burnt spot on the desk.

Why was this happening? According to what she had heard from Harry—or at least, she deduced from what Harry had told her that it took a while before he lost his magic to this extent. He had said something about feeling the connection between him and his wand slipping away. It hadn't felt any different when she had been casting, had it? She couldn't tell, since she had been too concerned with the fact that the casting had been unsuccessful.

She glanced from the corner of her eye at the pocket that held her wand. She didn't dare to try it out now. No, she couldn't test it out yet. She wouldn't test it out yet, though she had a strong urge to do so. Even in the worst scenario and she was, indeed, losing her magic, she shouldn't lose it this quickly. Perhaps she was just overtired.

Yes, she was just overtired. And she had been listening to too many stories from the Knights of Silence. If she just rested a bit, her casting should be back to normal. Or maybe it was because there was something wrong with her wand. She should probably get it checked out at Ollivander's.

Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the back of chair, mentally telling herself that there was nothing wrong and things would go back to normal soon. Seconds later, she opened her eyes again and stalked towards her door.

She needed to speak with Harry.

Therefore, she almost fell over when the door got pushed open the moment she was pulling it open. Harry stumbled into her office while she steadied herself with one hand on the wall.

"Sorry," he mumbled as he stood up straight.

Hermione was taken aback when she saw how distressed he seemed. His hair was even more disheveled than usual; bags were hanging under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept for days; and his clothes were slightly off-centered, as if he had been in a hurry to get here. The fact that he didn't make a joking remark about the state of her office further showed how utterly distressed he was at the moment.

"What's the matter, Harry?" she asked tentatively.

Closing the door quickly behind him, he gazed at her. "I think I've lost my magic completely."

"What?" She stared at him.

"I'm serious, Hermione. Somehow, the Floo network still worked for me, though I have no idea if Muggles could Floo themselves somewhere, but I didn't try to cast any spells this morning, so I didn't know that I've lost my magic completely until ten this morning. I tried to look for you, but your co-workers said that you've went somewhere this morning—"

"You mean you can't cast any spells? At all?" screeched Hermione.

"Shh!" He glanced at her door worriedly, obviously afraid that someone else might hear about it. "Yes."

"But—but I thought you were only having trouble casting spells," Hermione stuttered in a lower volume.

"It's been getting progressively worse. I didn't think too much about it because Apparating had been a problem since three months ago, so it was before I told you about this happ—"

"How long has it been since you've started feeling your magic slipping?" she cut in.

"A year," he answered.

"A year?" she whispered, her eyes wide.

That meant that she had been right; for some strange reason, the loss of magic was occurring a lot faster to her than it was to Harry.

"What's the matter, Hermione?" Harry asked, noticing the change on her face.

She shook her head, though she couldn't stop a shiver from running through her body.

"What's the matter? Tell me, Hermione," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders.

She shook her head again. She couldn't tell him; he was already troubled by the possibility of completely losing his magic. She couldn't let him know that the same thing was happening to her. She had to lie to him.

However, the moment she looked into his forest green eyes, the words just wouldn't come out. They remained stuck in her throat as she stared at Harry. She just couldn't bear to lie to her friends, and there had never been a moment in her life when she hated that trait of hers more than now.

"The same thing's happening to you," Harry suddenly said, and he stumbled backwards. "The same thing is happening to you. Dear Godric, why is it happening to us?"

The back of his knees hit one of the armchairs in her room, and he slumped down into it before burying his face in his hands.

It took a moment for Hermione to snap out of her stupor.

"I—I—"

"Don't bother lying about it, Hermione. It's written all over your face," said Harry, his voice muffled.

Her mouth snapped shut, and she froze on the spot, not knowing what to do and what to say.

Lie to him. I have to lie to him.

However, each lie that she came up with sounded feebler, more ridiculous than the last. In the end, she leaned against the wall in defeat, staring at the top of Harry's head, and her mind blank.

What were they going to do now?

~-0-~

Harry and Hermione could care less about what stories their co-workers would make up by tomorrow. After all, it was no big secret that they were best of friends since Hogwarts, so it wouldn't be weird that Harry stayed nearly four hours in her office. The two of them would've stayed even longer if they could. However, sitting in the office and worrying was not something that the two of them could bring themselves to do. So though they couldn't come up with a solution, they did decide that they would still come to work and go home at regular times to prevent others from finding out about their predicament. Meanwhile, they would continue trying to find out the reason behind their loss of magic. Though it was hard, they were determined to not worry about it too much. Perhaps it was like cancer cells, and the more they were upset about it, the faster the ailment would progress.

The end of the workday came a little too early for Hermione's comfort, and as she walked towards the Floo network, she became more and more uneasy about trying her luck. Though Harry still managed to make it to work unsinged, she could not be sure that it was an ability that they could retain after they've lost their magic completely. It was why Harry had decided to return home the visitor's way rather than risk stepping into the fireplace and running into the risk of roasting himself in front of a whole audience of Ministry workers.

In the end, she found herself taking the same path Harry had out of the Ministry.

Thankfully, Todd was going to be home late that night. He was ridiculously perceptive, and she really did not think that this was a good time to let him know about the Wizarding World.

Perhaps you wouldn't even need to explain to him in a few months' worth of time, her mind added sarcastically.

She hardly remembered how she got through the hours in between; time went past like a blur, and sometime later, she found herself curled up in the bed with Todd's arm around her waist. Yet, his presence could not soothe her. Staying calm and collected was much easier said than done. Uneasiness continued to well up from the pit of her stomach like an erupting volcano, and she couldn't think of a way to calm herself down.

"Is something wrong?" Todd whispered all of a sudden.

Though her body hardly relaxed, a small shiver still ran down her spine, almost reflexively, when his breath brushed against her earlobe.

"Nothing important," she murmured, closing her eyes and lacing her fingers with his. "Just a bit stressed out with work."

"Oh?"

"Mmhm," she answered.

He shifted his body a little closer to her and kissed the top of her head. "You've never told me where you worked at."

Her eyes snapped open, and she stared straight ahead into the dark room as she shifted her body awkwardly. This was definitely not the right time for this kind of question. She wasn't sure how to explain things without telling him too much and leading him to believe that she was some kind of nutcase. After all, when telling people about magic, there were only a handful of outcomes—well, at least before she performed some kind of magic in front of them—and one of them was being treated like a loony bin that should be thrown into a mental hospital. At the moment, she wasn't even sure when her magic worked. It would be incredibly embarrassing if she waved her wand and nothing happened. Therefore, she would rather sort out of her magic loss problem before telling Todd everything.

"Haven't I told you?" she asked instead, feigning forgetfulness.

"You've never elaborated it." A soft chuckle left his mouth before he said, "Now don't tell me I'm getting married to a drug dealer or some other infamous international criminal."

"Wouldn't that be funny?" she replied weakly.

He did not say anything, and she realized that he was waiting for an answer from her.

"It's … I work for the government," she said slowly, her free hand rolled up into a fist. Though this conversation somewhat distracted her from the possibility of complete loss of magic, it was not exactly a calming topic.

He still didn't say anything, and she knew it was because that was precisely how she'd always answered him when the topic about work came up. She didn't want to lie to him because she knew that there would be a day when she would tell him everything. Therefore, she'd always opted to keep the answers vague instead of making things up.

"It's kind of busy … and we basically have a lot of documents to look through and approve … and …" she trailed off. After a short pause, she turned around so that she could face him, though she could not see clearly in the dark. "Look … it's not really something I can talk about right now. But I promise you that I'll tell you everything about me one day."

"Everything?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.

For a split second, she dwelled on that single word he said. There seemed to be … an underlying tone in that simple question, yet she could not pinpoint it. Then, she brushed that feeling aside. This was just becoming beyond ridiculous now. Why would there be any underlying tone in that simple question? It wasn't like she was making some kind of promise that would turn the world on its head or cause the skies to come crashing down. At the rate she was going, the possibility of magic loss would turn her into a cynical, old bat.

"Everything," she assured him with a smile, though she knew he could not see it in the dark. "I promise."

He paused for a short moment before he answered.

"I'll take your word for it."

Relief washed over her, but unexpectedly, a tingle ran down the back of her spine, reminiscent of the sensation she usually got after she performed a particularly difficult spell. Her heartbeat increased; perhaps that was a sign of her system kick-starting itself back into action. Optimism brought another smile to her lips, and she snuggled closer to him. However, before she drifted off into sleep, she realized that at the back of her mind, there was still a strange feeling of unease.

~-0-~

A/N: Thanks for those of you who had read and rated the chapter. Huge, huge thanks to those of you who reviewed: Nerys, Alassea Riddle, m0nt, Zombie Reine, Megii of Mysteri OusStranger, Amber, LadyMiya, Fleur K., Aviendha, Mekom, and Shan84.

Review replies can be found here: http://serp-replies.livejournal.com/21965.html

Edit: And stupid me forgot to give credit to Nerys for the Knights of Silence, which is found from her wonderful, wonderful story, "The Bittersweet Taste of Victory." If you haven't read it yet, GO READ IT NOW!!! Yes, I'm shouting. ;D
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A Tangle of Webs