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This Best Tragedy	By : Musemisery Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 1308 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Of Tall Tales and High Ledges
- 2-Of Uncertainty and Invisibility
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- 2
The tapping at her window was slowly driving her insane. Last night had been such a late one. Were a few more minutes, just five more minutes, of sweet, precious sleep too much to ask for? Judging by the insistent tapping, they were indeed. Ruffled and sleepy, Hermione peeked at the window with one half closed eye.

Of course. The delivery owl. Knowing the owl would not leave until the Prophet had been delivered; she grumbled and lazily slid from between her bed sheets.

�All right, all right, I�m coming,� she mumbled grumpily, pulling a robe on to fight off the morning chill of mid-autumn. She opened the window just enough for the delivery owl to swoop in, and then promptly shut it. The owl flew gracefully to the owl perch all Prophet subscribers were required to have, and landed awkwardly on one leg. The other was held forward, the rather heavy looking paper dangling from it.

Hermione took her time untying it, sadistically enjoying the inconvenience it was obviously causing the bothersome creature. When he seemed to sigh in exasperation, it was so cute that Hermione giggled and forgot the current grudge she held for him, tapping it softly on the head before removing its burden. It wasn�t his fault, after all. Appeased, the owl hooted softly and nipped her finger affectionately as she pulled her hand away. They had become friends over the years, and Hermione had even considered adopting him should anything ever happen to Crooks. Speaking of, Crooks yawned sleepily from his bed and eyed the owl suspiciously.

Hermione dragged herself back to her bed, intent on having a lie down and reading the paper as she did every Sunday. It was mornings like this, however, she wished dearly she�d taken up coffee at some point in her life, as well as a house elf. Merlin knows she wouldn�t be capable of brewing a pot efficiently in this state. Having to make do without either, she made a quick business of burying herself deeply back into her bed, propping herself up just so, and unraveling the Prophet.

What she saw on the front page made all her hard work pointless, however, as she jumped out of her bed and onto her cold floor without slippers. She went to her living room, pacing to and fro, reading at a frantic pace which she usually reserved for crunch time at Hogwarts, and back into her bedroom where she glared at the owl accusingly. The owl gazed back innocently, as if to say �don�t shoot the messenger, lady�. It felt as if a building had fallen on her head; as if shock itself had fallen out of the sky and punched her right in the gut.

This could not be true. It was preposterous. The woman had finally gone and lost her ever-loving mind. Completely, that is. Hermione doubted the woman had ever had all her wits about her. �Well, I�ll just have to go set things straight, won�t I then?� She said heatedly, lips pursed and eyes narrowed dangerously. The owl hooted uninterestedly. Crookshanks blinked.

�I�ll teach that witch to mess with me! This is the last time!� She exclaimed in indignation. A bird outside began to sing. Crookshanks curled up tightly and began to doze off once more. With a harrumph, she glared at the front page of the Prophet, and the angry title glared back:

�The Scandalous Truth about Muggleborn War Hero, Hermione Granger�

By Rita Skeeter

A picture of her hugging Harry tightly sat just beneath the blinking letters; the very same that Rita had used years ago to accuse she and Harry of some torrid love triangle. She hurled it to the floor in disgust. Without so much as running a comb through her hair, she rushed to the fireplace, threw floo powder into the flames, and said clearly, �Office of the Minister for Magic, Hermione Granger, respectably.� And she stepped through.
*
It was a moment of furious inspiration that had compelled Hermione to come straight to the Minister�s office moments ago. Now, however, as she sat before the man, her hair in comical disarray, (more so than usual, always a sight to be seen) in a pink robe with bunnies and pajamas still twisted and hanging loose in curious places from sleep, she momentarily judged her own use of the word �respectably�.

Surely Ms. Rationality herself would never be standing barefoot, teeth un-brushed, drool still on her face, on the impeccably plush red carpet of The Minister for Magic himself? And then, insanely, she wondered if her makeup from last night, which she had been too tired to wash off, had survived through the night. One quick glance at a posh silver vase sitting atop the massive fireplace to her left told her it had in fact survived-and with a vengeance, to boot.

The minister cleared his throat, which made Hermione shift awkwardly.

�Good Morning, Minister.� She said dumbly. The man, who had been eyeing her for some time in expectant silence, eyebrows raised in barely disguised amusement, merely chuckled. �Hermione,� the minister used her name like an old friend, which in a way, she supposed he was, though they had only recently become friendly. Hermione supposed with the war, they�d never really had the chance to become friendly anyway. He�d always struck her as a bit snooty, but she now knew that was more sophistication and self-assurance than snobbery.

�Surely you haven�t rushed to my office upon waking simply to bid me a pleasant morning, have you?� Hermione blushed. The newly appointed Minister for Magic was a debonair sort of man, and could be quite charming rather effortlessly.

�Of course not, Blaise,� she said, feeling a bit flustered. �I � I wanted to speak with you- just- to verify- a certain rumor that has been � well, rather,� she stopped herself short, �verify the utter untruth of it, that is-�

Blaise Zabini held up a hand, stopping her rambling short. �Steady now, Granger,� he said warmly. �If you take a seat I assure you I can, at least partly, set your mind at ease.�

�Y-you can?� Hermione asked, surprise evident on her face. Perhaps she had at the very least, expected him to be curious about her hasty arrival on her one day off.

�I assume you�ve seen this morning�s edition of the Prophet, and that is what has you standing here in my office in such an � ill-equipped state, for such a meeting?� He stated teasingly. Again, Hermione blushed, this time a bit ashamed that she should allow such a figure of status to see her in her current state. Again, Blaise chuckled, clearly amused with her turmoil, and gestured to for her to sit.

�Now,� the new minister said gravely, looking very serious suddenly, which did nothing to set Hermione at ease. He pressed his fingertips together thoughtfully and leaned back far into his seat, a slight frown creasing his features.

�As is the case with these things, the files were deeply buried in my subconscious, and I was unaware of their existence until it came to the surface, you might say. You see, upon election to this post, all of the Ministry�s secrets are given to me for safekeeping. I am, essentially, the Ministry�s main secret keeper. No one can gain access to our most secret cases until I tell them about it. As a safety precaution, an Obliviater visits me after I am given this information, and performs a unique spell. For several reasons, this is necessary. No one can walk around with that much information running rampant in their minds. They�d go mad with it� Only when my life is in danger can I remember any information about the secrets I possess. This also prevents me from ever slipping up, you see �for the secrets I possess are many and grave. Sometimes, however, if the secret leaks to those it has been kept from, I am made instantly aware of the secret. Most of the time, however, I am as unaware of them as anyone. Very complicated magic, that. Only to be done by the top Obliviator in practice.

�So, naturally, upon reading the article concerning your family this morning, I was positively bombarded with every minuscule detail from this case. Always quite unsettling, when that occurs�.� He trailed off, frowning slightly, and then continued. �I can only assume when Voldemort placed Pius Thicknesse under the Imperius Curse, he gained access to these secrets. The consequences of this are only now beginning to be seen; your case being the first. He must have performed intense Legilimency on the man to learn every secret he could about Horcruxes. And, your secret, of course, or, the secret of your family: the banned blood, the information that was hidden from the public regarding Horcruxes, must have been amongst these. All Ministers for Magic are, of course, masters of Occlumency. While our secrets are repressed, they are not inaccessible from unusually skilled Legilimens, which we knew Voldemort to be. It was due to this that the secret was no longer protected. Once that information was breached, it became accessible to anyone looking for it. Which is how Rita Skeeter somehow stumbled upon information that would have otherwise been untouchable to her.

�I believe I know more about this case than anyone, aside from what died with your ancestors, and something told me your ever-intelligent mind would suspect that. I have actually been expecting you all morning.� He smiled approvingly at her, �So, tell me, what is it that you want to know?� The Minister regarded her expectantly, but Hermione was speechless.

Surely, she had expected to get here and be told her family had nothing to do with the existence of Horcruxes? Surely, she hadn�t expected � this? This long-winded explanation that her family had, indeed, been solely responsible for the creation of them? That they had been banned from the magical world, stripped of their magic, too dangerous to even been known as a disgrace? That they were utterly and completely wiped from wizarding History?

The more she thought about it though, the more she understood why. With just the little bit of information that had survived about Horcruxes, just look at what had occurred�. She couldn�t imagine what would happen to the magical world she knew and loved if everything there was to know about Horcruxes was somehow accessible to just anyone. And then, she realized something. She was pondering this entire thing as if it were fact. Her inquisitive mind had instantly placed her emotions in the backseat, and her analytical side had taken over. Then it hit her.

�You- you mean to say it�s true?� she squeaked, utterly gob-smacked.

The minister appeared surprised.

�Why, of course it is true. The prophet would never allow Rita to publish a story that wasn�t based on fact, Ms. Granger!� At Hermione�s pointed glare, the Minister added sheepishly ��Anymore, that is.�

�So, my family, they are � were � banned from magic? As she said?� Hermione asked.

The minister nodded.

�Seven generations. Just as she said. Your ancestors were given an extremely harsh punishment, with good reason, of course. You see, in the old days, it was believed that �bad magic� ran in the blood. And that only seven generations spent away from magic could purify the blood enough to rectify this. What they didn�t realize was that this theory was true because it was common sense, rather than any kind of blood purification. You see, the blood doesn�t change when magic is taken from a wizard. That�s always been what people don�t understand,� he said gravely. �It�s nothing to do with the blood at all. It�s what is learned about magic from birth that determines how we use it.�

None of this made any sense. Hermione had researched her family. It had gone far, far back. Much farther than seven generations. So that had to mean�suddenly, she remembered how she�d been able to create an entire life for her parents when she, Ron and Harry had been on the run during the war, using nothing more than a simple spell. Her brief flicker of hope diminished somewhat, but, still desperate for answers, she made one last attempt.

�B-but I�m a muggleborn, through and through! There has been no reported case of magical ability in my family tree at all, let alone what--�

�Thirty generations of pure wizard blood. The purest bloodline there ever was, in fact. As you can imagine, making them muggles was the ultimate insult. Had they been aware of that fact, I daresay it would have caused quite an uproar.�

Hermione sputtered.

�Thirty-pure-impossible!�

�Ms. Granger. You are indeed a muggleborn. The magic is completely gone from your bloodline, starting again with you. Nevertheless, your magical ability derived from somewhere. Surely you know that there is no true muggleborn? Somewhere down the line, every muggleborn witch has wizard blood in their line.�

Of course she knew this; it�s the very thing that infuriated her so much about purebloods and their asinine belief that muggleborns had no wizarding blood, and vice versa. In her case, however, she was muggleborn because her family was stripped of magic. Not because magic was added to it.

Her eyes were wide and disbelieving. There was a small choking sound as she tried to form words. And then, suddenly, her eyes narrowed. Her chin jutted forward.

�No,� she said. �It can�t be,� shaking her head violently, she stood defiantly. �There has been a mistake.�

�I assure you," said the Minister for Magic softly, �It can. And there hasn�t.�

�How?� she demanded.

�It was seven long generations ago.� He said gently. �Surely you can�t feel responsible��

�Don�t you see?� Hermione shrieked suddenly. �All those years of defending my right to be here! For nothing! Now they�ll all just say my blood is dirty as ever, on top of being a banned line!�

�Not banned entirely�. Seven generations banned,� the minister said lamely. �Which isn�t so bad really � considering.�

Hermione sighed, and then shook her head sharply to clear it. She decided to try a different approach. If she was going to get any truth from the man before her, it would have to be as a friend, and not a polotician.

�I just, I'm having a hard time understanding, Blaise. She said weakly. the Horcruxes? My family� why were there secret keepers, and why was the information protected so judiciously? And furthermore, what does all this have to do with me?�

Blaise sighed, and she was relieved to see the edge of tension surrounding him lessen slightly.

�Of course, Granger. Just sit back down, and I'll explain. The Dufresnes �your family, before they became the Grangers,� (So it was my father�s side�) �were extremely Dark Wizards. Notorious. Many thought one, in particular, Adolphus Dufresne, would one day become a Dark Lord of magic. He was both respected and deeply feared. Fascinated with all that is dark and drunk on power and elitism. Perhaps he reminds you of someone?�

Hermione nodded miserably, and Blaise lit a rich smelling cigar before continuing.

�It was only when several were arrested and sent to Azkaban for performing the Unforgivables in public on muggles, for a laugh, that their homes were raided and the theory of Horcruxes was first introduced to the world. The ministry thanked Merlin they had seemed to catch it in time � for an incantation that splits the soul when murder is committed, and houses it in an object outside of their bodies, enabling immortality to anyone evil enough to kill, did not sound like any improvement in magic to most. There was one man, however, who disagreed. And his name was Theophilus Black.�

�Black? As in��

��The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.� Indeed,� he nodded. �The small amount of information that is known about Horcruxes now, is because of him. He was on the search team when they raided the Dufresne house. It is believed he�d begun a love affair with Adolphus�s younger sister, Parthena Dufresne. His loyalty for the Ministry faltered, and he was consumed by this dark world. Until this time, the Blacks were a rather noble house indeed.�

�Blaise, you cannot be saying that my family is responsible for corrupting the Blacks,� Hermione stated dryly. Because wasn�t that just too ironic.

Blaise ignore her, too wrapped up in his tale. He seemed to be telling it with the enthusiasm of one who themselves were hearing it for the very first time. And then Hermione remembered that that was precisely the case.

�He managed to steal many very key pages of research. Enough that he himself created the first successful Horcrux. The next day, however, a very powerful memory spell was cast on the entirety of the wizarding world. To all but Theophilus and the Unspeakables, Horcruxes did not exist.� Hermione gasped. Even working for the ministry, so close to the minister himself, this was the first real insight she had ever had into the world of Unspeakables.

�So Theophilus-�

�Was tragically killed the very next day.�

Hermione blinked. �Pardon?�

�The infamous Knight Bus Crash. Theophilus was a passenger.�

Hermione had heard of this. The Knight Bus had only ever had one accident � a late winter night, the snow had been so deep people hadn�t left their homes for weeks. Except for a few weary travelers, who had been stranded in the snow and caught the wizarding emergency transportation. Tragically, they never made it to where they were going.

��.And his Horcrux?�

�Faded into obscurity. Thieves wiped his house clean within weeks of his death. While many papers of his own findings remained, the original formula was gone. As well as the Horcrux itself. One thing is known, however.�

�And that is?

�Only the blood of the woman he loved could revive and destroy him. He set it to be so.�

�I see. But she�s dead.�

�Which is precisely why it isn�t relevant. What we are interested in is finding the rest of what he stole. From what our research has determined, it was most of it. It is also possible, though we cannot be sure, that he made copies of the rest. Although, it is just as possible he merely read and memorized what he wasn�t able to steal the night of the raid. And now, what you need to do is put all of this out of your mind.�

Hermione was confused, and it showed. Closing her moth abruptly, she sputtered.

�Just what are you saying?"

Blaise�s bright, dark eyes seemed soft and pleading.

�What I am saying is this, Hermione: Be very careful what you do with this information. You were never supposed to know what you now know. I need you to understand that only your status in the war has kept the Unspeakables from doing what they did seven generations ago. They would have to alter the history of an entire war due to your involvement with Harry Potter. If you want to pursue this �learn more about your family, that is fine. But do not, I repeat, do not, get any fancy ideas about saving the world. Let this thing go, Hermione.�

�But Blaise! Surely you can�t expect me to just sit by and let my name be dragged through the mud without doing anything?� She exclaimed.

Blaise sighed loudly, looking very much the part of �Stern Minister once again.

�As I said, you are welcome to pursue this as you please. I could never take that from you. In the years we have worked together, you have become a friend. I will not let them stop you from knowing where you come from, but I can only do so much. There is one exception. Something I have no control over: you must not try to find out more than you already know about Horcruxes! At this moment, the Unspeakables are collaborating to come to a conclusion as to what to do about this,� he raised the Prophet in the air and smacked his desk loudly.

�This is not your responsibility, Hermione. For hundreds of years, they have researched Horcruxes, trying to find a way to put an end to their existence. They won�t allow you to get in their way. And quite frankly... I don�t want the wizarding world to lose you.� He looked greatly worried. His eyes were strained with concern. �Please, Hermione. I implore you to leave this alone.�

Hermione sat quietly, contemplating her options. The minister, too, seemed absorbed in his own thoughts. She was inquisitive by nature. Surely, she couldn�t be expected not to learn more about this family �her family- that she�d never known existed. But what of the Horcruxes? It was true that she felt a sense of obligation, now. Her family had enabled the most evil wizard in history to threaten the lives of her loved ones time and time again. Now that she knew this, how could she ever be expected to let it go? Do nothing to prevent it from happening again?

She knew that now was a most opportune time for her: any information about Horcruxes that had previously been inaccessible to her would now be at her fingertips. If she could find it, that is. She remembered the frustration of months and months, trekking though empty fields and forests with Harry; the misery at not knowing what to do about the Horcrux they had in their possession; The endless hours she had spent in Hogwarts Library, frustrated to the point of tears when she�d barely come up with anything to help their cause. And now, to top that, she felt the sense of obligation one feels for their own families� mistakes.

And with a sharp clarity, she knew. She could never honestly agree to stay out of the way. She possessed the most brilliant mind of her generation. Of several generations, really. And Hermione now knew why. Why for everything, really. She had found her purpose in life, and every loose string had begun, in that moment, to come together. She would find a way to destroy Horcruxes for good. Her blood had created them, and so it would destroy them. But she would appease the minister, her friend, Blaise, for now. With a sigh, she rose.

�All right. You have my word, Minister.� she said soberly. Making a quick departure, she flooed home and prepared herself for a long day. She needed to speak with Rita Skeeter and she needed some answers.
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This Best Tragedy