Secrets and Masks

21. The Golden girl, reborn

28th March

Waking up from The Demon Hex felt different the second time.

Hermione couldn't remember much about her first experience with the curse. It was all too new, too sudden. She'd been too scared, too swallowed up in her panic to notice what was going on around her. She'd felt almost swept up in it, like being dragged under a harsh wave, twisting and flipping under the current with no way out, no real sense of which way was up or down.

The second time she was under the hex, it was both easier, and a thousand times worse. She found she had more self-awareness this time. She could feel the curse, feel the marionette strings on her arms pulling and pushing her movements.

Malfoy had been right, the sense of clarity the hex provided was like nothing else she'd ever experienced. She'd been too distracted with the fog last time, too terrified of the foreign entity that was seeping into her blood to pay attention to the way to curse affected her body.

This time, she was aware of the hex. Aware of the way it started at the base of her skull, tingling as it stretched across her brain. She was aware of it spreading down her spine and arms, like the caress of soft fingertips. She even felt it thread itself over her palms, felt it lace through her fingers so it could control every inch of her.

This time she was prepared for the hex. This time, she studied it. Studied the way it sharpened her instincts. The way it edged her senses. She heard every rustle of the trees above her head, heard every crunch of the fallen leaves on the forest floor and every chirp of the birds. She studied the way it made her blood hum in her veins, the way it made her pulse quicken. She felt like her whole body was vibrating. She was alert, ready for anything.

And she saw everything, no detail escaped her. The hex brought with it a blinding sense of clarity. She could practically hear the hands in Malfoy's bones grinding together as he clenched his fist beside her, swore she could feel the quickening beat of his pulse through his palm on her wrist. All hunters' instincts, all brought to the surface with two simple Latin words.

The thing she didn't expect, however, was the way it dragged her emotions to the surface. Not happiness, or joy, or even wonder. No, no those emotions wouldn't serve the purpose of the hex. The curse itself fed on dark magic, it gorged on brutality and pain. The hex wanted her to kill, destroy, the types of things that only the darkest of curses could achieve.

And the thing about dark magic, is that it's fuelled by emotions; pain, rage. The more heartbreak, the better. The more anguish, the stronger the curse.

So the hex dragged it all to the surface, flashed every painful memory behind her eyes. Every life that had been lost because of her. Every mission that had failed because she'd been too slow or made the wrong move. Every time she'd held someone in her arms as they were dying. The hex flashed them all like a cruel Rolodex of pain and horror, fuelling her with anger.

There were a lot of things the hex did to her body that she didn't realise last time, but the most significant thing, the thing she was ashamed of, was the way it made her feel lethal. Powerful. Like she could do anything, bring down any building with the wave of her wand, end any army and make kings fall on their knees in front of her.

If she weren't aiming the wand in her hands at her friends - the people she'd sworn to protect no matter what - then she might have actually enjoyed the effects of the hex.

As the curse faded, as those ghost-like fingers trailed backwards and out of her body, a cold - real - hand grabbed her wrist. Quick as a flash, the ground vanished from beneath her feet and the air shifted as she landed somewhere else.

"Granger, look at me." Those same hands cupped her face the instant they finished Apparating. He tilted her face up to meet his eyes. "Shhhh, it's alright. You're safe. Look at me-"