Chapter 6

Razor's Edge Chapter 6

Disclaimer: This all belongs to J.K. Rowling.

A/N: Thanks to my beta, Mel! She worked for this one.

Hermione had been dumbstruck by Professor Snape's plan, and realized that he must have been more affected by his brush with the Dragon's Bane than he cared to admit. He needed a house elf for some sort of harebrained scheme to break into Azkaban? That didn't make any sense at all, and she could barely absorb the words he was speaking. She made a show of listening politely, nodding every once in a while, and excused herself as soon as she was able. Snape was still weaker than he liked to admit and needed rest, so it wasn't too hard to get away.

His hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist, though, just before she was out of his reach. His fingers were like steel, and his black eyes delved into hers. With a deadly calm he asked her, "You are going to get the thestral heart now? We can waste no more time. I already explained why time runs short. Everything now hangs on your part in this."

Hermione couldn't breathe, couldn't think of anything other than him. The whole room seemed filled with his very essence. Maybe in making the vow to him she had unknowingly given more than just her word? She nodded mutely, unable to muster the strength to do anything else. She had the oddest impulse to reach out and touch him. Her hand actually started to rise, almost on its own, already cupping as if to rest lightly along his jawline. She gasped and snatched it back, mortified, and hoped he hadn't guessed her intention. One perfect brow arched back at her, curious, and she whirled around blindly, stumbling out of his rooms.

"Hermione?" His deep, rich voice reached into her from where he sat in his chair. She stilled, waiting. "You will bring me what I seek." It was not a request. It was a demand for obedience..

She was powerless to deny him anything, it seemed. "Yes." At least her voice did not betray her by sounding as weak as she felt. She didn't turn around, but left quickly, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Once clear of Snape's overwhelming presence, Hermione was able to think for herself. Well, she had gotten herself into quite a bind. No matter; her part in this was only to bring Snape a simple ingredient, as expeditiously as possible. He still hadn't specified that she had to go and kill a thestral herself, thank Merlin, so her only constraint seemed to be that she couldn't share any of the information that she currently knew with anyone. That ought to be easy enough to accomplish.

Now, where to get a thestral heart without killing one herself? She could always make a quick trip to Knockturn Alley, as they were almost assured of having something like that somewhere, but she only relished that as a last ditch option, particularly since she couldn't take Harry or Ron with her for help.

She knew that Hagrid kept a small herd of thestrals in the Forbidden Forest. Perhaps it was time to pay him a visit. If she played her cards right, she might be able to get some information from him without revealing much in turn. At least she had a clear place to start in the mess she had made of things.

*

"'Mione! What brings you here to my doorstep?" Hagrid's florid face fairly glowed with pleasure when he opened up his massive door and saw the slip of a girl who stood on his front stoop.

Hermione tried to appear nonchalant. "Nothing! Do I need a reason to come and visit you? It's been a while, and I wanted to come and have a chat, Hagrid! Besides, I brought some of those Squawk 'n' Chip Cookies I know you like. I got some the last time I was in Hogsmeade." Hermione held up the bag she was carrying and shook it gently.

"Well, come in, come in! Where's Harry an' Ron? Aren't they with you?" Hagrid frowned when he saw that she was by herself. "You three are thick as thieves, you are. You had a fight?"

Hermione smiled. "Can't I go anywhere by myself? I am getting older now, you know. I'm not joined at the hip with those two. We can do our own things without being in a fight."

Hagrid shook his head as he put the kettle on to boil. "Now, Hermione, don't you be fussin' at me! I know when somethin' is up with you, and I can see that somethin' is up with you! If you want to keep yer secrets, then that's fine by me, but yer not pullin' the wool over my eyes fer a minute!" He looked at her through bushy brows. "Not that it's any of my business, but don't let it stew too long. They're good lads, and I hate ter see you fight, that's all. Now, let's see about them cookies!"

Hagrid talked and gestured expansively, explaining that the cookies were spelled to let out a realistic sounding animal roar whenever someone bit into a piece of chocolate, thus making them some of his favorites. Hermione enjoyed seeing him having such a good afternoon. As they talked, she realized that it really had been quite a while since she had stopped by for no other reason than just to enjoy the pleasure of Hagrid's company, and she began to feel a little guilty about her ulterior motives. There was nothing to be done about it, however, and as she swallowed the last bit of tea in her mug, she tried to get the conversation going in a direction that suited her purposes.

"So, Hagrid, I was just talking to Mumsie Hogendorf ... oh, maybe a week or so ago. She's one of the second years over in Hufflepuff? She thought that the carriage she rode in from the station was just powered by magic. Can you believe it? So I told her ..."

"Magic? Naw! It's thestrals! They're so majestic; people are scared of them, but they wouldn't hurt a fly, not even a fly, they're just the gentlest things ..." Hagrid carried on for a moment about the joyous properties of thestrals. Hermione hid a smile. Hagrid was really getting warmed up. He was in his element when he was talking about his beasts.

"I know, Hagrid. That's what I said," Hermione interrupted. Hagrid stopped in the middle of talking about what thestrals ate, a little befuddled about why she was still there. "Mumsie didn't believe me about the thestrals."

"Didn't believe you?" Hagrid burst out. "Well, I'll..."

"Probably because they're invisible, that's why. Not everyone understands them like you do," Hermione soothed him, feeling her conscience prick her a little bit. "I was a little curious myself. Can I ask you some questions about them?"

"Sure, sure. I love it when the students take an interest. Especially you, Hermione." Hagrid fairly beamed, and Hermione felt her good opinion of herself slide right into her feet. Hagrid was about the sweetest, kindest person anyone could ever hope to be friends with, and she was shamelessly taking advantage of him. Her only hope was that he would never find out about it and just think that this was a friendly social call.

"Okay, well ..." she had no idea how to frame her question so as not to arouse any kind of suspicion. "I was wondering how long they live?"

"Oh, lemme think. They're a long-lived creature, the thestral. I can't think that they don't live close to 300 years. Or mebbe longer."

"Three hundred years?" Hermione nearly shouted. "So you've never seen ..." she felt a curious tightening around her throat, as if there was the presence of a noose. Her wrists were also getting uncomfortably tight, as if the magic knew she was close to slipping up. She hastily amended her words. "... one being born?" she finished up lamely.

"No, thestrals are o' course very private creatures. They like to live alone, but they do allow you to make friends, once you get accustomed to their ways. It just takes time." Hagrid happily detailed some of the various things he had seen thestrals do, and Hermione was at a loss as to what else to say. The vow wasn't giving her a lot of wiggle room. She had one more angle, and then she was out of ideas.

"...so they're just like any animal, you see, once you get to know them." Hagrid was explaining reverently.

"I see, but how do you care for them, Hagrid? It must be difficult if you can't see them. Do they ever get sick? Can they ever become visible to you? Have you seen one?" Hermione tried to sound nonchalant, and picked at a loose seam on the hem of her robe.

"Oh, I've had no trouble caring for them. Didn't I just say they were as gentle a creature as you'd ever want to meet? They eat dead things, great slabs o'meat. Carrion! As easy to get..."

"So they never are visible to most people?" Hermione tried desperately to steer the conversation away from rotted meat, which was, frankly, turning her stomach.

"Aw, Hermione, you know when most people can see them. But other than that? It's funny, but people can see them when they're born, when they die, and when they're most vulnerable, about once every ten years or so. That doesn't seem fair, but there it is. The rest of the time, they're invisible." Hagrid stood up, his chair scraping back. "You'd best be getting back to the school, it's gettin' late. I did enjoy the visit with you, though."

Hermione ignored him. Her mind was caught on the little piece of new information. "Wait, Hagrid, did you say when they are most vulnerable? When is that?"

He eyed her. "Every ten years or so. Or mebbe it's twenty, I don't rightly reckon."

"No, no," Hermione tried to sound casual. "I mean, what happens when they are most vulnerable?"

"Well, they lose their hearts, don't they?"

Hermione had to suppress a gasp. "Their... hearts? But then don't they ... die?" There was something here she didn't understand, and her own heart was starting to quicken in anticipation of the puzzle being finally solved.

"'Course not! In fact, I have one right here! At least, it was right here ... " Hagrid's voice trailed off as he turned from her and started casting items off of a high shelf and generally making a bigger mess of his hut. Hermione couldn't believe her ears. A thestral heart! Right here! She had to persuade Hagrid to give it to her, by any means necessary. "They are quite a prize, you know, being that they only lose them every couple of decades. Ah! Here it is!" Hagrid turned and held in his hand what looked like a gnarled, gray root. He brandished it with pride.

Hermione was perplexed. "But, Hagrid, I thought you said a heart. That looks rather like an old branch, no offense. Are you quite sure it hasn't come off an ash tree that burned down?" She tried not to wrinkle her nose.

Hagrid did look offended. "It surely is, Hermione! Although I guess you wouldn't know what one looks like, yer not t' be blamed fer it. I didn't mean the beatin' heart a one, I meant the horn part of one, like a unicorn. They shed it, like I said, and it has magical properties. They call it a heart, or mebbe a hart, like the deer, I dunno. It is a horn, after all, and a deer loses its horn, too. You know, these legends get all twisted up. Anyway, mostly young witches like yerself would be lookin' fer this kind of thing out in the woods. It's said to bring the greatest of hope and love to anyone wishin' fer it, mostly witches on their sweethearts, I think. That's the old tradition, anyway. And if you ran across one, you wouldn't even know what one was! Ah, well, that's the crime of it, with things being what they are these days."

Hermione could scarcely believe it. Could it be that she had overlooked the easiest answer of all? That she needn't slay a beast and cut out its heart, only pick up a piece of horn that it shed? Her eyes were wide as she pondered the possibility.

Hagrid looked down at the girl in front of him. The light of the world was shining in her eyes, and he was awash with tenderness for her. In her frailty, which was evident to him just now, she seemed to carry a tremendous burden on her narrow shoulders. Normally, Hermione seemed so smart and self-assured; her intellect was like a shield that protected her better than any armor ever could. As he gazed at her unguarded, though, he could see the workings of her inner mind laid more bare than perhaps she would have liked, and he saw that she may not have been as brash as she'd led him to believe all these years. His heart gave a little tug on her behalf. He wasn't very good with emotion, so his voice was rougher than he meant it to be. He cleared his throat. "Here, Hermione, mebbe you would like to have this."

Hermione had been calculating how best to ask Hagrid to give her this prize, and here he offered it up freely. She felt a clench somewhere in her chest, and a suspicious wetness flooded her eyes. She was not worthy to be called his friend. "No. I, uh, I couldn't possibly."

"Take it, girl." He thrust his hand out to her. "You're young, and you need your dreams more than I do. An old man like me."

"Oh, Hagrid, that's not true," Hermione said, but she took the offering just the same, feeling like a terrible person. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Now, go on. Get you back to the school before they send a party out t' find you." Hagrid gave her a gentle hug and pushed her towards the door.

"I will, Hagrid, but you need your dreams, too, you know. You're not that old," Hermione stepped off the stoop and into the gathering gloom, her treasure clutched to her chest.

"Old enough. And say hello t' Harry and Ron fer me!" Hagrid called after her into the night.

A/N: Thanks goes out to Mumsie Hogendorf for the gracious use of her name in this chapter.