A Forbidden Birthright

Chapter Thirty

Lunch was torturous. Hermione was kicking herself over and over. Already, she was ready to cave. He sat only two people away from her at the lunch table for the teachers, and seeing his face, hearing his voice, reminded her that he was not allowed to be near her in the ways she craved.

Ginny, sitting by her right, noted her too-long stares, and subtly nudged her with an elbow.

"Why are you looking at him like that?"

"Like what?"

Ginny raised a brow. "You look like a love-sick school girl. What happened? Why don't you just go talk to him?"

Hermione sighed in defeat. "Because I can't."

When Ginny looked at her expectantly, she quickly explained their argument from the previous night, all of it tumbling out in between bites of food and hushed whispers. When she was done, her friend was looking at her with wide eyes. Instead of leaping on her argument with Malfoy, however, she latched on to something else. 

"Somebody broke in? Hermione! You need to tell McGonagall."

McGonagall. Of course. She had been so stunned by Draco confessing everything else and making it out to seem she was not at fault for any of it, that the break-in had completely slipped her mind.

"Do you know who it was? Or why?"

Fuck. She should tell her. She would have to tell her at some point. Ginny deserved the whole truth, especially with the Ministry due for arrival that would likely start off an intense inquisition. Which meant they would eventually end up questioning Ron. They would have to, and if Hermione didn't get ahead of it, she would be risking the trust in all of her friendships.

"I have something I have to tell you," she said, spitting it out before she lost the nerve. "But not here, not right now. You- you and Harry need to come over. And Ron. Sometime before the end of the week."

Ginny's eyes flickered, noting the seriousness in Hermione's voice.

"Alright," she said with a nod.

"Just the three of you, okay? This is not a casual get-together." 

Ginny eyed her, concern written on her face, but she pursed her lips and agreed. 

While they finished their lunch hour, Hermione smoothed a slip of parchment on the table and quickly scribbled a note to Nikolai, asking him to return before Saturday, as they had things they needed to discuss. She hadn't heard from him once he'd left, only a brief note saying he had arrived safely, but nothing since then. She was trying not to grow concerned, but swallowing her worry for him was like choking down frozen stones. 

The day went on, her classes and the questions from her students doing little to distract her from the reality around her. Especially when she overheard whispers about the dead body found in Ilvermorny. Despite the American and British Ministry's attempt to keep the information quiet, it clearly had spread like a virus, penetrating the news outlets and spiraling into chilling rumors. 

Although there was no picture of Rooney Salt's naked, dead body, a black and white snap of the front of Ilvermorny had been splashed on the front page of even the British papers. Fear, familiar and haunting, had begun to take root. Those too young to know or remember the days of the Second Wizarding War were nervous, but didn't hold on to the same kind of fear the teachers and older students felt. 

And with the discussion of the breach of a Wizarding School in America, infiltrated for some kind of ritualistic murder, the conversation was rapidly taking sharp turns. What-if's and what-then's began to surface, hypothesizing what the world would be like if a third Wizarding War broke out, bringing attention to Hermione.