Chapter Text
Never let it be said that research was a danger free pursuit.
Not that the prospect of danger would deter Hermione on the best of days. But to be fair, it also wasn't something she'd expected to encounter on this particular endeavor.
Hermione's field trip to Avebury for the Beltane festival was quite possibly an indulgence, but one she was willing to allow herself. It was research but also something she was genuinely interested in.
After a failed attempt at Auror training with Harry and Ron (too many fast spells without thinking and dueling for her taste, very little emphasis on brains), Hermione had spent this year after the war working full time in the Care of Magical Creatures Department. After a few months there, Hermione found herself focusing her ambitions on for what her became the real prize, training to be an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. As she saw it, that was where the real power and knowledge lie. In pursuit of this, she had decided to bulk up her resume with all kinds of research into obscure magical theory, perhaps even advance some of the fields.
She'd started doing this in Magical Creatures of course, delving quite deeply into Elvish Lore, one of her first loves. From there she spent time with Unicorns, Harpies, before moving more into magical theory across cultures, which had taken her down some very interesting rabbit holes in the months she'd been pursuing this.
Lately however, Hermione had become obsessed with the divide between the wizarding and Muggle worlds. What was the link between ancient Muggle Magical lore and actual Wizard magic? When had Magic and non-magic cultures diverged?
With a dreary March and April waning into a warmer spring, Hermione had found herself musing on the Muggle pagan celebrations and associated lore with the Beltane, a Wizarding tradition. The fact that it was celebrated by Muggles seemed too much of a coincidence not to have been based within some magical tradition, didn't it?
Although exactly what the Beltane rituals were, she couldn't say.
Her friends were less than helpful. Harry was often more clueless than her when it came to some of the more obscure Wizarding practices.
Neville had muttered something about his Grandmother always telling him he was too young to hear about such things.
Luna had lots to say, some references to blood sacrifice, fertility rites... very little of it seeming based within reality.
When at last, Hermione had inquired to Ron about all this, he just responded with a shrug and rather blank look.
"I think at one time wizards did some rubbish with that stuff, marriage stuff I think, but not anymore." Ron had said.
And that might have been that. However, love Ron though she did, Hermione didn’t see him as an authority on pureblood practices. Which was frustrating, given that as one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the least his family could do, in her opinion, was keep abreast of the quieter knowledge that came with membership in that particular club.
Still, she supposed she couldn’t begrudge them for it. Ron’s casual disinterest in knowledge he could have claimed without effort stood in stark contrast to Hermione’s own position; an eternal outsider to a world whose deepest rules she would always have to fight to learn.
With nothing to go on, of course Hermione moved straight into research mode. Again, she'd found very little, but what she had found was enough to tantalize. References here and there to sacrifices of animals to offer protection (sacrifices of what? To who?), reference of marriages between Sacred twenty eight families being brought on by Beltane Fertility rites. April's end approached, Hermione knew there was only one place she'd be. As such she found herself in Avebury that afternoon around half three, surrounded by some very eccentric, albeit, very friendly Muggles.
Many were middle aged women. They were dressed quite new agey, flowers in their hair and broomstick skirts. Some had some long hooded cloaks that somewhat resembled wizarding robes, decorated with elaborate runes that from Hermione's best guess were bastardized versions of some ancient Celtic languages. Certainly no meaningful runes that she could discern.
A few revelers zeroed in on her immediately, thrilled to find interest from the "next generation of Wiccans." She was immediately handed a glass of wine in a plastic wine cup and toured around the stones.
"Who's that?" She asked Eleanor. She was one of the kind women who'd appeared at Hermione's side nearly immediately and introducing herself. She seemed to be about the age of Hermione's own mother though said she had no children of her own. Hermione gestured over the field, having spied an older woman wearing a crown with two stag antlers.
"That's Gwen, the high priestess of our coven," Eleanor's tone was hushed. She nodded encouragingly. "Come I'll introduce you."
Gwen was also quite welcoming. Hermione considered the woman for a moment with interest before her magical sense confirmed for her. Muggle. Nothing there then. Just a nice old lady.
There were a few blokes milling around too, easily spotted as there were so few of them. One strikingly pretty woman sat on a small stage, plucking at a harp. The stage was painted in bright cheerful colours.
No Wizards or Witches at all from what Hermione could see after some more careful scans of the crowd. She felt a bit let down, though not really sure what it was she'd been expecting to find.
Some drinking, some dancing, some music. It all really just seemed like an excuse to have a party. Not unlike some of the Muggle music festivals Hermione had seen on telly, but definitely a more hippy-like crowd, and the demographic skewed decidedly older than the standard Glastonbury fare.
"I feel so connected to my ancestors here, doing what they would have done thousands of years ago." Eleanor remarked, placing a hand on the nearby stone with a happy sigh as they took a break from socializing.
Hermione wasn't strictly sure that Eleanor's ancestors would have been drinking copious amounts of red wine and dancing around to a harpist covering Enya songs thousands of years ago, but she supposed she couldn't be sure, and agreed out of politeness, taking a sip of her second (or third?) glass of wine. She might as well settle in to what would be a rather interesting evening, even if it didn't reveal anything interesting research wise.
Though that said, there was something to the place. Hermione couldn't put her finger on it, but there was some kind of undeniable power, emanating from somewhere.
"You really can feel it, can't you? The power in this place?" Eleanor said, observing Hermione.
"Yes..." Hermione murmured, looking around thoughtfully. This wasn't entirely a lie, though the magic she was sensing didn't seem to be coming from the stones at all. She closed her eyes and did a slow turn as she tried to zero in on where the magical source seemed to be emanating. Southward, the complete opposite direction of the standing stones.
"You've got a good aura, Hermione," Eleanor interrupted her. "You'd make a fine addition to our coven if that's something you'd be interested in. I know these things."
"Um, thank you?" Hermione was only half listening, squinting into the distance. Nothing remarkable to the naked eye. Yet something called to her.
Decision made, she turned to Eleanor. "Thank you also for introducing me to everyone. I'm... going to go for a walk. Clear my head." She gestured at her glass "Too much of these I think, I need to take a break."
"Don't forget to come back before sunset, there'll be dancing around the stones and we'll light the bonfires," Trilled Penny, who was either Eleanor's good friend, or girlfriend, Hermione hadn't worked out which.
"I won't." Hermione promised vaguely as she started to move southward, smiling politely at some of the people she'd met.
For a while she walked without thinking on it too hard. The din of the festival goers faded into the background and the music that had carried on the wind ceased, leaving only the cheerful chirping of birds and the buzzing of flies in the warm air. It was a perfect late afternoon.
Initially, Hermione's mind had felt slightly and pleasantly muddled from the wine she'd had, but eventually she could feel it dissipating from her bloodstream as the magic called out to her.
Looking around with this new awareness, Hermione looked around the area in which she was walking. it occurred to Hermione that she should have passed at least a few muggle Homes or roadways, but to her best recollection, she'd encountered nothing other than the forest, slowly enclosing in on her. From her recollection, this didn't quite fit the topography, but for some reason this didn't trouble her. There was a dim part of her that warned her it should bother her, but the pull to follow the magic outweighed this instinct.
The ground beneath her feet felt warm, as though the earth itself exhaled with each step. The day was already warm, yet the air pressed around her, heavy and humid, almost like walking underwater. She could hear the songs of the forest, yet no birds called, no animals rustled. Nothing moved but the swaying of tree branches in the breeze. Hermione felt the life of the woods pressing in, and yet she was utterly alone. She walked on, though she couldn’t say how long, her mind noting every anomaly, every subtle shift, as though the forest itself were aware of her presence.
It was as if her attention had split in two. One part of her observed everything, the subtle hum in the air, the warmth underfoot, the odd spacing of shadows, calculating, cataloging, rationalizing. The other part... whispered at the edge of her awareness, a strange curiosity she couldn’t quite define, urging her forward. She felt a thrill at the strangeness of it, and excitement that she had stumbled into something interesting. This was no Muggle wiccan festival. Whatever this was, she would investigate.
At last, Hermione arrived at the place that had been calling out to her. It was a rather unremarkable spot it seemed at first. A bit of a cleared out space in the middle of the wood, surrounded by trees. There was a big pile of sticks stacked haphazardly in the centre. She peered at them consideringly. Had they been placed there or was it a natural formation? Difficult to say. As she was about to step closer to have a look, she paused mid-stride, seeing below her foot a line on the ground that was decidedly not natural.
Some kind of curved line scorched into the earth surrounded the pile. Not black enough to feel alarming, but certainly not there by accident. She walked around the perimeter slowly, finding it spanned about five metres in diameter and formed what seemed to be a pretty perfect circle. It felt decidedly deliberate, as though the ground itself had been prepared for… something.
Hermione knelt slightly, inspecting the scorch marks more closely. The pattern didn’t match any spells she knew, and there was no residue, no scent of burnt wood beyond the sticks themselves. Every instinct of hers told her it was magical, yet it followed rules she couldn’t immediately identify. Her wand was tucked safely in her coat, but even without holding it, she could feel the pull of the space, quiet and insistent, a question left open for her to answer
She could still hear the sounds of the forest around her, but the noises seemed to be dampened by some kind of... buzzing?
Well it definitely wasn't the Wiccans who set this up, Hermione thought wryly, thinking to the definite absence of magic at the gathering she'd been at. She glanced back towards the way she had came, the path obscured by forest. She paused and tried to estimate how long and how far she had walked and found she couldn't recall. It had both felt like hours and minutes in her mind.
Nothing was familiar, and she recalled seeing no orienting landmarks on her way, nor were there any wizarding towns in the area. She'd clearly walked too far for it to be related to Avebury. This circle clearly been placed intentionally however, so there had to be some kind of sign of wizard life around. She looked back down at the burn marks, wondering what had caused it. She then realized the angle of the circles curve was different than she expected. Tilting her head, she looked down with narrowed eyes, trying to discern what seemed off. Then she realized. The curved line was on her left when it should be on her right.
Hermione blinked, looking around. Then with startled realization, she understood. Somehow, she'd gone inside the circle.
When had that happened?
She may not know much about this particular place, but Hermione knew not to just go stepping into strange circles. She instinctively reached for her wand and found nothing there. Her stomach flip flopped as her hands flew over herself, searching frantically, her hands grasping into every pocket her clothing contained.
No wand.
Looking around with a bubble of fear, Hermione sighed in relief as she spied the brown handle of her wand, sticking out of the grass just on the other side of the circle. She let out a nervous giggle, she must have dropped it when she'd stepped into the circle. Silly. She reached down to get it, and was met with some kind of invisible barrier.
She took a startled step back, unsure of what had blocked her. Tentatively, she reached a hand forward. Just as her hand met the precipice of the circle, she met an invisible barrier. Not a solid feeling, just a sense of immense power.
She looked around frantically for some kind of explanation for what was happening. But there was nothing. Nothing but forest.
Where was she?
***
Well this was quite a predicament. After multiple attempts to summon her wand, Hermione was forced to conclude that whatever force was preventing her from accessing it, it wasn't letting up. There was no reason she shouldn't be able to perform a simple Accio.
She gazed around what still seemed to be a very nondescript forest in rural England. Nothing special.
Nor could she discern the magical source of the circle. Avebury was the only stone circle within walking distance, though admittedly she'd walked a long time without paying enough attention to her direction or surroundings.
"Granger? "
An incredulous voice came out of the forest, scaring Hermione out of her wits. With a yelp, she whirled around, reaching in vain for her wand before her body's reflex could catch up to her brain. She blinked a few times, unsure if what she was seeing was real or if it was a trick of this strange place. When the apparition spoke again, she knew it wasn't a hallucination.
"What are you doing here?"
Draco. Sodding. Malfoy.
His mouth agape, he looked about as surprised to see her as she was him.
And what in Merlin's name was he wearing? Some kind of old fashioned looking shift that was some kind of linen with light brown trousers. These were not normal clothes, unless there was some kind of weird customs about what Purebloods wore in their spare time. Regardless, it was unmistakably Malfoy even if he looked like he was participating in some kind of medieval festival.
"What are you doing here?" She blurted back.
"I happen to live here Granger," Malfoy looked back at her eyebrows raised. "I also asked you the same question, which you've not yet answered. And you're the one who's trespassing."
Hermione looked around in renewed confusion. She knew she had gone South from Avebury, but she still frustratingly had no sense of time or distance. But if Malfoy said he lived here... she must have walked over ten kilometres.
"These are your family's lands?" She said at last.
"Of course they are," Malfoy sneered as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. His eyes narrowed. "And how exactly did you get through the wards?"
"I don't know." The strangeness of the situation compelled honesty. Hermione furrowed her brow in thought. "I just... walked here."
"You were just wandering around the Malfoy estate and decided to disable our virtually impenetrable wards?" He crossed his arms, sleeves billowing.
Hermione blushed a little. "I was... I was at Avebury, you see."
"That mad Muggle party?" Malfoy burst out laughing, and it was strange to hear genuine amusement instead of his usual sneering cruelty. "What in Merlin’s tits were you thinking there?"
"Seeing what it was they were up to." Hermione cried defensively. "I'm working on connections between Muggle ritual rites and magic."
She began explaining more but quickly trailed off when she saw the look on Malfoy's face.
"Yes, yes, how very fascinating, Granger. It's so nice to know that you're living up to your potential." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "And now that we've cleared that all up, you can toddle off, Granger, steady on." His tone was dismissive and he gestured with a flourish of his hands. "Some of us have business here."
It was only then, that she became aware of the docile looking Bicorn a few paces away from Malfoy. Looking at the pile of sticks in the circle Hermione was trapped in, she looked back at the animal consideringly. Then looked back at Malfoy and his strange clothing.
He wasn't just out for an evening stroll around the property.
Then Hermione thought of Luna's insights to Hermione's inquiries a few weeks before. Perhaps they weren't complete bullocks after all.
"Malfoy," she said, slightly aghast. "Please tell me you weren’t going to... sacrifice that poor, defenseless animal!"
"Rituals often require blood, Granger. Obviously," Malfoy replied, entirely unperturbed. His tone was amused, almost predatory.
"That’s despicable!"
"Would you rather I fetched some old Muggle biddy instead?" he said, a sly smirk tugging at his mouth. "I hear there are a few dancing around a stone circle like lunatics not far from here."
"Obviously, I’m kidding," he added hastily, noting the rage flaring in her face. But the smirk lingered, sharp and knowing.
“Besides,” Malfoy walked over to the Bicorn and stroked its head with an almost gentle familiarity, “Old Tarth’s arthritis is getting to be too much for him most nights. It’s a kindness, done quite humanely, I assure you.” His eyes flicked to Hermione, narrowing. “And if it isn’t to your taste, you’re quite welcome to leave. Bye Granger.”
Well I wanted a Beltane ritual. Hermione scowled to herself. Loathe as she was to admit it, she was going to learn far more about Beltane here than she ever would from the Muggle women at Avebury, no matter how pleasant they’d been. The desire to understand burned brighter than her pride.
“So what exactly is the point of this then?” she asked, unable to resist adding, “Or is murdering defenseless animals just a favorite pastime of yours?”
Malfoy arched an eyebrow, expression dripping with mock astonishment. “Are you seriously suggesting there’s something the brightest witch of her age doesn’t know? That she’d like me to enlighten her on?” His voice carried a teasing, condescending lilt. “How very… privileged I am, to find you trespassing on my property.”
“I didn’t know I was on your property,” Hermione said through gritted teeth.
"And why are you here at all?"
Hermione looked chagrined. "Research?" She replied, unable to make the statement not sound like a question. Malfoy snorted.
"Research on what?"
Was he daft? She gestured around them. "Beltane, Malfoy, obviously. Those muggle biddies are celebrating it too. I went to see what their rituals."
Malfoy snorted. "I'm not sure a bunch of old bats getting sloshed and dancing naked applies."
Hermione looked down. The sentiments were unkind, but not all that different from her conclusions.
"Well, that's why I went, Malfoy. I didn't really have any other avenue, so I figured I'd go see what it was all about."
"Seriously though, what are you trying to learn?" Malfoy looked genuinely perplexed.
"Anything," Hermione threw up her hands, frustrated. "There's nothing on these rituals anywhere from a Wizarding perspective. And believe me I've looked."
She had a million questions. What were the rituals for? Was the Bicorn a sacrifice? If so, to who? To what? There weren't Gods in the wizarding world, so that didn't quite make sense, but if not, what was the sacrifice for? Why was there power associated with this particular day? What about the Solstice? What about the winter Solstice?
Some of this might have shown on her face, because Malfoy let out a sharp, amused scoff.
"It's just a blood magic ritual. Or at least it can be in certain circumstances, Granger," He drolled, as though this should be old news. He clearly was reveling in her lack of knowledge. "It depends on what it's being used for."
"And how are you using it tonight?"
"That, Granger," Malfoy's jaw clenched, accentuating the sharp angles of his cheekbones. “is none of your business.” He glanced up at the sky, calm but imperious. “In fact, I’ve had quite enough of this. As I’ve said, you’re trespassing. I don’t have time for your questions. I suggest you leave. You don’t belong here.”
Which brought Hermione back to her original problem. "I can't." She said with as much haughtiness as she could muster for someone who'd gotten herself trapped in a ritual circle.
Draco’s eyes widened ever so slightly.
“Explain.” His voice was flat, tight, leaving no room for argument.
"What is there to explain?" Hermione gestured around the circle, eyeing him.
Curious.
"You can't leave the circle?" He asked. She nodded slowly. It wasn't her imagination, his mood had changed from impatient to pensive.
"No I can't. I sensed the magic, walked her, entered this circle, my wand somehow got left behind." She gestured to where her wand lay in the grass and shrugged. "Now I can't seem to leave."
"You sensed this all the way from Avebury?" Malfoy sounded a little incredulous, with an undercurrent.
"Well I am a Witch, Malfoy." She sniffed. He didn't react to the tone. "And since you're here, I'd thank you to return my wand."
"So you say you sensed it," He ignored her request. "Then walked all this way, saw a ritual Beltane Circle and just decided to jump into it, do I have that right?"
"Well for starters, I didn't know what it was. And I didn't just walk into it, I saw it here and was looking at it, wondering what it was and..." Hermione furrowed her brow, trying to remember. "Well I suppose I stepped into it without realizing where my foot was. It wasn't intentional. And now I'm stuck."
"You've got to be kidding me." Malfoy muttered, running an anxious hand over his face.
"What?"
"It picked you." He muttered through his hands. "I cannot... fucking believe this."
"What are you talking about?"
Malfoy didn’t answer immediately. He drew several slow breaths, face still in his hands, his distress palpable. Hermione just watched him, torn between giving him a moment and trying to force him to answer her.
At last, he straightened on his own. His haughty demeanor was restored. His eyes sharpened, cold and calculating. “So you actually walked here from Avebury… and the circle picked you. Huh. I’m actually impressed, Granger.”
"I don't know what you mean," She said flatly.
“Well it's fairly simple Granger. The Beltane magic called. You followed. Congratulations, you’re… special.” His smirk was sharp. “And now you’re trapped.”
Hermione’s heart thumped. “Trapped?”
"Apparently,” He replied dryly, tilting his head. “You didn’t just stumble into a forest and happen upon a magical circle, Granger. The land has its preferences. Its… demands. It doesn’t care about your intentions.”
"I walked here myself," Hermione shot back. "Nothing pulled me."
“Granger,” Malfoy said, impatient, as though talking to someone slow. “You didn’t sense the magic. The bloody Beltane magic sensed you. It picked you, beckoned you, and you followed. That’s why you can’t get out.”
Hermione blinked. That didn’t feel… right. She had sensed the magic, followed it deliberately, investigated it out of curiosity. The journey wasn’t entirely fuzzy, and she'd had some wine at the festival, so the fuzziness made sense. She had chosen to come. And yet… something in the way Malfoy said it, the way he clearly believed what he was saying, made her stomach tighten.
Rather than argue back, Hermione decided to play along for a moment.
"Okay so if you're right, why me?"
"Because. You're. A. Witch." Each word sharp as a blade.
"But why me?" She repeated in irritation, emphasizing the point of her question.
Malfoy shrugged, looking completely uninterested in this question.
"Why anything, Granger? The Magic decides what it needs and we obey."
"You keep saying that the Magic wants something. You're talking about it like it's... sentient, what does that mean?" Hermione asked.
Malfoy pursed his lips, considering. "It... doesn’t just exist, Granger. It notices. It reaches. It chooses. And when it wants something, it doesn’t ask politely. It moves the pieces itself. You think you came here on your own? No. You followed because it demanded you to."
Hermione’s stomach tightened. Her fingers clenched instinctively. She cast another wordless Accio, an attempt as fruitless as the previous ones. Malfoy rolled his eyes at the attempt.
"And this is happening because it's Beltane?"
"Yes," Malfoy nodded, his voice low, almost grudging. "The stars, the planet—they align in ways on this day that open the channels. That’s why Beltane is tied to summer, to growth, to the land itself. The land wants to protect itself, to be healthy and viable. So every year, we perform the rituals it requires." He gestured around himself. "These are our lands, Granger. Malfoys are the stewards."
The self important arrogance of Draco Malfoy suddenly made a little more sense. She'd always known the sacred twenty eight oozed self importance, but this was some of the most ridiculous line of thinking she'd ever heard. The way they situated themselves at the centre of the wizarding universe and justified keeping everyone else outside.
“Malfoy, you and your family are delusional.” Hermione said firmly. She lifted her chin high. “I control magic. I don’t let it control me.”
Malfoy laughed, short and sharp, like a whip cracking. “Oh, Granger. You’re oh so clever… and so wrong.” He stepped a pace closer to the circle, the air around him seeming to thrum. “You think magic obeys because you’re smart? Because you intend it? This isn’t Hogwarts homework, you're not in control here."
Hermione let out a frustrated breath. She felt like she was arguing nonsense. Malfoy clearly believed what he was saying, but it didn't make sense. Her entire magical education centred on teaching them how to control magic. It felt like pureblood propaganda that he'd clearly been brainwashed.
And yet.
Hermione swallowed, a shiver tracing her spine. She wanted to roll her eyes, wanted to call him delusional again, but an unwelcome memory bubbled up without warning or context. The absence of her parents, their faces erased, the life that had vanished as though it had never been hers. The fruits of her fatal attempt to "control" magic that should have protected them not erase them.
This unwelcome thought made the pull of the circle feel heavier, more insistent, as if the magic knew exactly how to reach her.
She drew in a steadying breath, forcing her mind back to the here and now. Draco’s smirk was still sharp, the words arrogant. He stepped a bit closer, and the circle pulsed under Hermione's feet in response to him. She felt a tug at her chest, subtle but undeniable. She wanted to roll her eyes—but the pull of the circle, the electricity in the grass, and the whisper of the land itself made her pause. Unwillingly a whisper in her mind told her that Malfoy just might, terrifyingly, be telling the truth. Or at least a partial truth
He might not be right about everything, but Malfoy clearly had some kind of understanding of what was happening here. Something Hermione ached to understand herself.
"Okay, well if we take that as true, which I don't, why does the land need your family?" Hermione asked finally, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Because we can channel the magic, we're wizards, obviously."
"Well it isn't obvious to me, Malfoy," Hermione snapped. "None of this information was anywhere I researched, and believe me I looked. And anyways, if this is your family ritual, what does any of this have to do with me?"
"Fucked if I know, Granger," Malfoy shrugged, annoyed. "You're the one who fell under it's thrall and walked all day only to get stuck inside there to do it's bidding."
That didn't sound good. Hermione looked around. She remembered her original problem.
"So I really am trapped in here?"
"I thought we'd worked through that one already." He said dryly.
Hermione glared at him. Yes she had worked that out, she'd already figured that out before Malfoy darkened this little corner of the forest. But as it was Beltane, she'd assumed at worst the spell would be broken come morning and she'd be on her way. Now she wasn't sure.
"Well how do to I get out?"
Malfoy just peered back at her sullenly.
"You don't." He said finally. "Not until it has what it wants from you."
Then, to her surprise, Malfoy started to move towards her and the circle. Even more alarmingly, he dropped his own wand as he did so. Hermione watched it fall from his fingers, landing neatly next to hers on the ground outside the circle. That was not a normal thing to do, not by any measuring stick.
The buzzing, the magical pull of the circle sort of swelled as his movement. Hermione heard, or rather felt, the sounds of the forest fall away, replaced by a thick electric air, pregnant with the anticipation of... something. In another context it might have felt exhilarating, being in the presence of this kind of power.
This did not feel exhilarating.
"Wait, what happens if you come in here?" She was unable to keep the anxiety out of her voice. Malfoy paused his motion and raised an eyebrow.
"You're so smart, care to hazard a guess?"
She opened her mouth for a sarcastic retort but as she did so, Hermione caught a glimpse of the forgotten Bicorn who was happily nibbling at some newly grown spring grass. Unwillingly, her quick mind started to connect the dots and make some educated guesses.
"If you think you can hurt me..." She rasped, cold tendrils of terror creeping into her stomach.
"Merlin, I'm not going to hurt you Granger." Malfoy sighed frustratedly.
"Hello, sacrificial Bicorn, Malfoy, what am I supposed to think?" Her voice was shrill. "What do you do other years, draw in Muggles for your blood sacrificing? Your family really is a piece of work!"
"People don't come wandering into our land willy nilly, you twit." Malfoy snapped. "It doesn't work like that. It doesn't matter if there are muggles or wizards just wandering around for no reason a few kilometres away. People don't just pass through the Malfoy estate wards unless invited."
"And like it or not, you certainly were invited," He continued hastily. "Though certainly not by me."
Where his voice had been loud, it was now soft. There was a trepidation in his demeanor that did nothing to quell the anxiety that was starting to well up in her.
Hermione silently processed this and he waited patiently. He seemed to be studying her with uncharacteristic curiosity, as though she were a puzzle he only just realized was in front of him.
"So if the magic picked me and I'm here to take the place of bloody Tarth the Bicorn-"
"I said I'm not going to hurt you, Granger." Malfoy snapped. Then he looked down and muttered the words that brought the small bubble of anxiety in her gut to a fever pitch. "It's much, much worse than that."
"How can it be worse?" Hermione said. Malfoy just looked at her. His expression unreadable. She thought back to the pages she'd read in some of her research the last month. And to some of the babblings of Luna that she'd taken for nonsense. Fertility rites. Marriage rites.
She thought she knew.
"I think you might know." He said quietly, as though reading her thought. Hermione recoiled in disbelief. Oh yes, she knew.
He'd rendered her speechless. He was right though. It was far, far worse. Malfoy sank to his knees and looked down into the his lap.
Ironic that sex magic suddenly did seem so much worse than sacrifice.
Of all the barbaric...
"Well then have it unpick me." She finally stated after a few moments of silence. Her voice decisive, mind made up.
In the moments she'd been mulling over her predicament, Malfoy had grown distracted. His gaze had moved downward to the blackened circle, not seeming to hear her. Suddenly, to her horror, she could see him starting to lean forward into it, his head nearly at the threshold.
"Malfoy, have it unpick me." She said again, dimly hearing the shrillness of her own voice.
"I..." He looked up at her at last and seemed to come back to himself. He stood up, brushed some grass off is trousers and cleared his throat before adding, "Granger, I can't do that."
Voice still quiet. Regretful.
"You said you're the Steward of these lands, Malfoy. It's your family ritual. Unpick me. I don't want any part of this, whatever this is."
"We are the vessels." Malfoy replied softly. "The magic selected you. Not just because you were close by. As I said, any Witch or wizard can be nearby, it's not random." He gestured over at Tarth, who was starting to wander off into the distance, oblivious to his near brush with death.
"I was prepared to use blood magic," He muttered to himself. "I thought that would be enough. Why can't it be enough."
"Can't you try?" Hermione pleaded. She didn't want to sentence Tarth to death exactly, but even she had limits.
He closed his eyes, pained. "It doesn't just want you, Granger. It wants us. Joined." His voice hitched on the last word, displeasure radiating off of him.
Silence. Hermione found her knees buckling and sank into to the earth. The grass felt perversely warm and inviting beneath her, warmed still by the evening sun. She felt tears start to well and swiped at one angrily.
"You can't do this to me." She muttered, burying her head into her knees.
"Do what to you?" Malfoy sneered disdainfully.
"You can't just r..." Trying and failing to keep the terror and tears out of her voice. "Rape me as some kind of... victim of Beltane sex magic."
"Merlin, Granger," Malfoy's eyes shot open wide and he looked genuinely shocked. He stepped back away from the circle. "I would do no such thing to you, that's bloody disgusting."
What the fuck was wrong with him?
"You just said so yourself, Malfoy." Hermione said bitterly.
"No, I said it wants us joined. This isn't one sided you twit," Malfoy sneered. "Whether you realize it or not, you're under it's thrall. And I'm... well I guess I'm the master of this land now. But it's my master as well. And when I step in there, then I will be under it's thrall as well." His voice was dull, resigned.
A new, horrific thought occurred to her.
"Wait, you're the master because your Father is in Azkaban." She said, the word father dripping with distain. "Are you telling me if that weren't the case I'd be supposed to have sex with your father."
"Fuck, no Granger!" Malfoy cried, aghast. "Merlin, what goes on inside your mind?"
"What goes on inside my mind?" She screeched. "MY mind? I'm not the one luring sex slaves into their estate and then acting like it's no big deal."
"There wasn't supposed to be any sex at all!" Malfoy roared, pulling at his hair and looked to the sky. "This isn't an annual event here. Merlin this is such a cockup." He looked up to the sky and cried out "Why is this happening? What did I do?"
He looked lost, defeated. Even Hermione, in all her distress could see she wasn't the only one who was upset by the prospect of a sex ritual with a loathed classmate, with an opposing member of a war.
"Okay, okay, let's just think about this." She said hastily, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to calm down. "We are magical beings, wielders of magic. You said yourself that the lands need Wizards to channel the magic. It doesn't wield us. It can't just take away our free will."
Malfoy pursed his lips and exhaled a frustrated breath.
"This isn't a textbook, Granger," He sighed. "Magic doesn’t take free will, Granger. It operates inside it. You’re acting like you’re separate from it, but you’re not."
Hermione crossed her arms in front of her and tried to muster an authoritative tone. "Then you have to just stay out then."
"What?" Malfoy looked genuinely perplexed.
"Don't come in the circle. Don't complete the ritual." She said.
"We have to complete the ritual, Granger, that's just a fact." He said, as though it were obvious.
"We don't." She argued spiritedly. "Sure okay, it's compelled us here because it wants something, I accept this. If I'm under some kind of ancient imperious type curse because I'm in this circle, if you stay out, it doesn't get it's way."
Malfoy's nose wrinkled as though he smelled something rotten. "It's nothing like an imperious curse, no one is inside your head, controlling you."
"Well if it's controlling me, that sounds like an imperious curse to me!" She cried.
"The imperious is wizard wielded. It's a weapon. This..." Malfoy gestured around them. "is like air, like gravity. It's woven into everything around and in us." He sounded reverent almost. Then he looked at her. Whatever he saw there made him burst out with jeering laughter. "Merlin, Granger, I thought you were supposed to be smart."
"What?" Hermione felt genuinely stung by this. "I've literally spent my entire time in the wizarding world, at Hogwarts, learning to control magic and now you're telling me that is a lie."
"If you're in total control, why the hell did you walk in there in the first place?" Malfoy shot back at her. "Surely even you know better than to walk into strange circles."
And that was the rub. She did know better than that. She pursed a frustrated breath.
"I already told you, Malfoy. I don't remember exactly how it happened."
"Well there's your answer, Granger." Malfoy said slowly, as though he were explaining this to a child. "We've already been through this, you just don't want to believe."
Hermione blinked up at him.
"I... I can't accept this."
He stepped back towards the circle, stopping short of the precipice. "I can feel it's pull too, Granger." He said quietly.
At this, Hermione felt a new chill down her spine.
"Malfoys don't make these circles," He continued, his voice low, as though sharing a secret. "they're made for us. Malfoys don't perform the Beltane rituals because we want them. We do because the land beckons us to and we are compelled to obey."
"Typical Draco Malfoy," Hermione ground out, bitter tears falling down her face. "Won't fight, cowardly as ever. You haven't changed a bit, have you?"
For a long moment, Malfoy didn’t move. His jaw tightened, his sharp eyes flicking to the circle, then back to her. The smirk, the arrogance, even the confidence that usually seemed effortless, it all faltered. Hermione almost felt it, like a crack in the ice over him.
He swallowed, as if the words had lodged somewhere uncomfortable, then took a slow, measured breath. His hand twitched at his side, like he wanted to strike or argue, but it didn’t come. He looked… wounded.
"You know," he finally said, voice low, clipped, brittle with irritation and something quieter, harder to name, "this is why you lot are such a problem." He ran a hand through his hair, not meeting her eyes. "You wonder why you’re not part of this… because you don’t understand it. Because you try to manipulate magic, treat it like a Muggle tool, rather than let it run through you, be part of it."
"That's because your lot keeps it secret." Hermione replied hotly. "And it's not because you're more deserving of it, or that you have some kind of a blood born right to it. It's your greed, your false sense that you're more entitled to something that you're not. And then you lord it over us as though we're too daft to understand something simply because no one has bothered to teach us." She gestured wildly around.
"You keep saying the magic picked me. Why the fuck would it pick a mudblood if I'm so unworthy?"
“That...” Malfoy started, teeth gritted, jaw tightening as if the words themselves were trying to claw out of him. He opened his mouth, then closed it, blinking rapidly. His expression shifted. Anger, disbelief, and something else, something like wounded pride.
Finally, he exhaled through his nose, a short, sharp sound. “That is… probably a fair point actually,” he admitted, voice low, reluctant.
"What, you..." Hermione sputtered. "Don't you agree with me."
Malfoy snorted and he glanced up at her face. "Why not?"
"Because it's... weird." Hermione settled on irritably. "Anyways. That's why I'm here, isn't it. To learn. To understand how all this works."
"Well congratulations, Granger," Malfoy gestured wildly at her and laughed, his voice dripping with bitter sarcasm. "You've got yourself a front row seat. How lucky for you."
That shut her up. They paused there in silence, her inside the circle and him outside, looking everywhere but one another. And under it all, under the weight of the words the pull of the circle thrummed beneath them, insistent and a reminder that this wasn't a philosophical argument.
Hermione realized eventually that Malfoy was looking at the sky. She followed his gaze. The sun was a brilliant orange, the clouds around it appealing hues of purples and blues. It was a beautiful evening, fast waning as the bright disc was already beginning its descent into the horizon. She could see the moon in the distance and also the bright light of Venus and its steadfast twinkle.
"Night will be here soon." Malfoy said unnecessarily.
Hermione thought back. She’d arrived at Avebury that afternoon. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, had drunk only two cups of red wine. Yet she felt no hunger, no thirst, and didn’t need the toilet. Magical stasis. She didn't need Malfoy to tell her, not really. She knew it in her bones. the normal rules didn’t apply in this circle.
"We don't have time for this," Malfoy interrupted her thoughts and Hermione felt her indignation rush back. She wasn't a pawn in some pureblood family horror.
Her anger felt good, something she could put her back up against. Because it was clear Malfoy, unhappy as he was, was completely resigned to his fate. Her heart quickened into a desperate fear. There had to be some way out of this.
"You'll go to Azkaban for this," She whispered, a last ditch threat, feigning bravado that sounded thin even to her own ears. Malfoy just snorted.
"For being under the thrall of Magic during a Beltane rite?" He said dryly. "I'll take my chances. And if I did go to Azkaban, I assure you that you'd be warming the cell right next to mine." He started stepping forward again. "I can make you one promise Granger. I'll do nothing you don't want, and I'll stop as soon as you ask me to."
"Don't you come in here, I don't want you here!" She cried desperately, feeling the tears in her eyes welling up. She held up her hands as though she could stop him but of course she couldn't.
Malfoy tsked irritably.
"Well you should have bloody well thought of that before you stepped in there!"
And with that, he stepped over both of their discarded wands and into the circle.