Cold trickled down the back of the man's neck, making him shudder as he skidded through the newly formed mud. His once smart, polished shoes were covered in a brown sludge, and the hems of the back of his trousers were slicked with filth too. A livid white scar slashed through the purple clouds overhead. The man's black shirt stuck to his soaked skin, and he shivered slightly as an echoing boom nearly shattered his eardrums.
His mangled left arm was clutched tightly to his chest as he hastily made his way up to the looming structure ahead of him, the rest of his body pleading him for mercy as it stumbled along. His chest ached from his heavy breathing: he had run all the way here, and his body had already suffered severe punishment from his father already. He was pretty sure that he had more than a few broken bones, and he knew that there were some horrific wounds he probably should have healed before running. But he'd had no choice; things were not going his way. First, he had been found out by his father: he had been the Order of the Phoenix's spy for over five years now, and somehow, Lucius had caught something in a look he had given him one day. There must have been something in Draco's eyes, and because his father was such a good Legillimens... Then he had decided he would beat Draco and 'play games' with him. Those games were not in the slightest bit fun. He was lucky to be alive.
A shaky wand was pointed at the heavy double doors and they creaked open, too slow for his impatience. He dragged himself inside and they swung shut behind him as a small house-elf came hurrying up to him.
"Master-?"
"I-need-get-Dumbledore!" He wheezed.
"Is there anything else I can get sir-"
But the man had already crumpled to the cold marble floor.
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"...My dear boy, if you don't wake up soon I shall have to fetch Madam Pomfrey and a-"
The man's eyes snapped open and darted back and forth in a panic. "Where- where am I?! Wh-?"
"You are safe, for now." Kind blue eyes twinkled down at him from behind half-moon spectacles.
The man sighed in relief and visibly relaxed.
"So, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said, settling himself down in a chince armchair that hadn't been there a few seconds ago. "Tell me, what happened to you?"
"It's a long story," the man replied, smirking slightly. "Though I'm sure you want to know every last detail."
Dumbledore's eyes sparked with amusement. "I do very much, Draco." He spread his hands wide. "When you are ready."
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Propped up by numerous fluffy cushions and kept awake by several steaming mugs of coffee and some chocolate frogs, Draco finally finished his story. "I see" were the only words uttered from Dumbledore's lips. Draco's gray eyes turned pleading, and he felt disgusted at himself. Malfoys never show weakness. But he wasn't really a Malfoy any more, not after Lucius had torn his family ring from the chain around Draco's neck and had burned his name from the family tree. If not a Malfoy, who the hell was he? "Dumbledore, I need protection now. They could find out at any time that I am a spy. You're the only person I have left to ask, the only person I trust implicitly."
Dumbledore's piercing blue gaze raked him. "I know, Draco. I will grant you safety, and I know I can trust you to do all that is necessary to keep out of harm's way." Humour found its way back into the old man's smile. "I believe that is a Slytherin quality of yours. Here," he passed Draco a large box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. "I think you've got a good batch." Smiling broadly, the older wizard stood and put a fatherly hand on the younger's shoulder. "Madam Pomfrey will be here soon to tend to your more painful injuries, then I believe she will fix all the rest. Goodnight, Draco."
"Goodnight, Professor."
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"No!" she struggled against the rough hands that encircled her arms, squeezing her soft flesh painfully. "Mum! Dad-"
"Shut up, you fucking disgusting Mudblood!" snarled the Death Eater holding her, jerking her around like she was a piece of rubbish. Hermione was dragged down the stairs and was thrown unceremoniously into the living room where her parents were cowering in fear. She stumbled but quickly regained her balance, kneeling by her mother.
"Mum! Dad! Are you okay?"
"We're fine, sweetheart. Are you okay? What's going on-?"
A sudden flash of green light had Hermione flinching away from her mother. A horrified gasp from her father made Hermione feel like vomiting and crying at the same time as she felt her heart clench painfully.
"Shut up!" hissed another Death Eater.
"Hermione, something's happened to your mother!" Mr. Granger was shaking Mrs. Granger, his fingers finding her wrist and searching for a pulse. Hermione could already feel the tears leaking from her eyes, blurring her vision.
"Dad-"
"Hermione! She's not responding! What's wrong?!" Mrs. Granger's head was lolling from side to side like a ragdoll. Hermione bit her lip and shook her head, agony from her heart making more tears spring to her eyes as she watched her father try to revive her dead mother.
"Dad-"
"HERMIONE WHAT'S WRONG?! WHY-"
"DAD SHE'S DEAD!" Hermione cried, grasping the shoulders of her father's chequered shirt and shaking him slightly. "That- that green light was a killing curse! She-"
Another flash of green light. This time, it was followed by gales of cruel laughter from the watching Death Eaters, who were lounging on her parent's furniture. And her father crumpled forwards in her arms as she watched the spark of life fade from his loving brown eyes.
"Dad..." she whispered, tears still streaming down her face. "Dad..."
"Come on, Mudblood. This is over. Let's roll."
Rage flared up inside her. "No!" she shouted, drawing her wand from her sleeve and pointing it at the Death Eater closest to her. "Stupefy!" While the other Death Eaters were distracted, she made a dash for the stairs, narrowly avoiding a pale set of hands and long blonde hair. Lucius Malfoy. Hermione stumbled through the hallway, more Death Eaters on her tail. She shot a few more Stupefy! spells over her shoulder as she turned into her room. Hermione quickly barricaded the door with her wardrobe and grabbed her beaded bag, hastily stuffing it in her pocket: it had been so useful when she was travelling around with Ron and Harry. But she had brought it back with her when they decided it was too dangerous for her to join them. She hadn't agreed with their decision, arguing that she was just as strong as they, but then she had seen some of the things they had to do. So she had come back, gone to Australia with her parents.
Hermione's eyes searched frantically for the little silver-backed hairbrush. "Come on!" she muttered to herself, getting more and more desperate as she upended her wastepaper basket, hunting around through the crumpled paper and old quills. The Death Eaters were bashing on the door now, and she could see her wardrobe moving slightly with each thump. A sweat beaded in little pearls on her forehead. "Come on, Hermione. You can do it- aha!" she held up the little brush with a triumphant smile. It was glowing slightly, and she knew that it would be leaving soon.
The Death Eaters succeeded in opening the door. "We have you now, you stupid Mudblood!" said Lucius Malfoy, a smirk on his cold features as he tore off his mask and advanced towards Hermione.
"Hmm... I don't think so." Suddenly the port-key glowed a blinding pale blue. "See you later! Or not!" And with that, she waved a cheery goodbye to her assailants as she felt the familiar hook behind her navel and the port-key began to spin her around. Her heart wrenched as she remembered she had left her parents' bodies in their house.
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"Hermione?"
"Dumbledore, Professor, I- I have no-one else to turn to! I need your help! I need a place to stay safe, I need protection! I can't do this anymore!" Hermione sobbed into her hands. "M-my parents are dead, and I-"
"You need a place to stay. I understand. As it turns out, I was just going to offer that to you. I know you are going through a difficult time, Miss Granger. I will see to it that you have a safe place. But in this safe place, you will have a mission I will set for you. You will know once you get there what it is."
She wiped the tears from her eyes and gazed into Dumbledore's piercing blue gaze. "Thank you, sir. I'll do the best I can."
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Draco stared in horror at Dumbledore. "I... you're saying... I have to live like a Muggle?!"
The professor regarded him sternly over his crooked nose. "Yes, you will be. It's the only way, Draco. You can use magic, but sparingly and not obviously. You will live mostly as a Muggle-"
"Dumbledore, you know I... I've given up those... you know it... but this is ridiculous! Just because I stopped believing that Mudbloods are disgusting doesn't mean I want to live like one! What kind of sick travesty is this?!"
Dumbledore only smiled. "My dear boy! This is not some 'sick travesty', to use your own words." He sounded amused, even though his expression was stern. "Please, do not use the word 'Mudblood' in front of me. We both know it is highly offensive. This is for your own protection. If you fail to comply, be it so on your own head. But your protection is very important, Draco. Do not squander this opportunity. Once you are at the house you will not be able to contact me or anyone else for a couple of months. This is for your protection and everyone else's. Is that clear?"
"Crystal, sir."
"Also, you will be staying with someone else. They will be under the impression that you have been estranged from the Death Eaters, and that they no longer want you. You must play along with this. It will be very important for your survival. No-one must know that you are a double agent."
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Draco sighed in relief as he hefted his small bag onto his bed. He didn't have much: just a couple of pairs of semi-casual trousers and a few different dress shirts, all in black; his wand, which was concealed in his sleeve; and a wallet stuffed with Muggle money and fake IDs. He also had Muggle bank accounts set up, courtesy of Dumbledore. He'd have to go out shopping or something.
Draco lay on his back beside his backpack, sprawling out over the soft green duvet. Sighing, he rolled over and promptly fell asleep, exhausted after a day of planning new skirmishes with Dumbledore on the various Death Eater hideouts he had knowledge of. He was so far gone that he didn't even hear Hermione come crashing through the front door.
"Merlin's saggy left Y-fronts!" She cursed as her suitcase hit the edge of the doorframe and popped open. Clothes and shoes spilled over the shag-pile carpet and she groaned in frustration. "Why now?!" Hermione stooped to the ground and began stuffing it all back into the suitcase, dragging it all inside and slamming the door. She lugged it all down the hallway and shoved it into the first room she saw, stepping over it and flicking on the light.
Hermione froze.
A shock of infamous silky blonde hair was messily framing an even more infamous and familiar pale, pointed face, which was relaxed and peaceful in slumber.
"Malfoy..." she breathed, stumbling backwards and tripping over her belongings in the process. "Oh no. No no no this... Dumbledore has made a mistake. Not... him..."
Malfoy shifted slightly in his sleep, his arm curving and tucking under his chin in an oddly child-like gesture. He looked so vulnerable... His legs curled up and touched his backpack, which was next to him on the bed. Instantly he was awake, his eyes snapping open as he gasped and his gray irises darted around wildly. "Wh-" His eyes found and held Hermione's honey-coloured gaze. "You?!" Draco sat up hastily, and in doing so hit his forehead on the edge of the nightstand with a loud crack. He let out a hiss of agony and lay back down again as pain bloomed in his head and black spots blurred his vision.
Hermione instinctively stepped forward, her arm reaching towards him. "Can I-?"
"No." Draco spat out through gritted teeth, his eyes clamped shut as he held his forehead. Hermione recoiled her hand. "Just-"
"Malfoy, it's bleeding-"
"I don't care! Leave. Me. A-fucking-lone!"
"Fine!" She marched away, using Wingardium Leviosa to move all her gear into her room. She called back over her shoulder. "Why are you here anyway, Death Eater?" This must be the mission Dumbledore set for me. To babysit Draco Malfoy, dreaded and deadly Death Eater. Great. This is going to be fan-bloody-tastic.
"Fuck you, Granger." He hissed, pointing his wand at the door and scowling as it slammed shut. The noise reverberated inside his skull and he winced, pulling the covers over his head and squeezing his eyes shut tight. A strong coffee and some of those Muggle painkillers would help him later.
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"Merlin's motherfucking right testicle could you be any louder?!" Draco fumed as he hobbled into the kitchen, clutching his head and squinting at Hermione with angry eyes. In his other hand he carried what looked like two plain white capsules branded with a green Panadol label. "Fucking hell..." He muttered to himself, searching in the cupboard for a mug. When he found one, he walked over to the coffee maker and found, to his surprise, that there was already a steaming urn filled with the fragrant brown liquid. "Granger," he said incredulously, turning to her in surprise and forgetting the lumpy cut on his forehead for a moment. "You drink coffee?"
"I don't know why that comes as such a shock to you, Malfoy." Hermione said snippily, facing away and tending to her toast, which had popped out of the toaster. "Everyone drinks it."
He contemplated her thoughtfully for a moment. "I had you pegged more as a tea girl myself." He said quietly, then began to pour himself some coffee. After swallowing the pills, he returned to his normal self. Which, for Hermione, was to say that he was incessantly annoying.
"What the heck were in those pills?" She asked him, perplexed. "Muggle medicine doesn't kick in for at least fifteen minutes..."
"Hey Granger, ever heard of a thing called... magic?" Draco said, a snide smile turning up the corners of his lips. "I hear it's very useful."
"Oh, sod off, Malfoy." Hermione said huffily as she grabbed a breakfast muffin, snatched her book off the table and walked away to her room.
Draco's smile just widened.
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That evening, all that remained of Draco's incident the night before was a shallow cut that was healing rapidly and a few bad memories, and Hermione was pleasantly surprised at how skilled he was with healing magic. I thought he was just at school for his image. She thought, rolling her eyes inwardly.
As if he could sense her surprise, he called over his shoulder to her from his station at the kitchen. "Yes, Granger. I'm actually more intelligent than you give me credit for. All my schooling life, I was second only to you. And even that was only by a point." He emphasised his point by viciously slicing up a carrot. Hermione said nothing in response, and turned to the book she was reading, The Trojan War. She found it engaging, reading about the Trojans and how they were doomed from the start. Cassandra, a Trojan prophet, had foreseen the War, but, being cursed by the gods, no-one believed her because they thought she was mad. So she was forced to sit and watch as the her city was burned to the ground around her. Hermione mused over this fact. Wasn't Trelawney's grandmother's name Cassandra? What a coincidence...
The smell of rich, tangy sauces soon permeated the room, and against her will, Hermione could feel her mouth starting to water as she emerged from her reverie.
Stupidly, she asked, "are you really cooking for me, Malfoy?"
He snorted. "Fuck no, make your own. This spaghetti is all mine." He set his plate down at the table opposite her seat and sat down, his gaze meeting her disappointed honey coloured one. "I guess you could have whatever's left of the stuff in the pan, if you can't be bothered to cook yourself..." He raised an eyebrow.
She put her nose in the air haughtily. "No, I'm fine. I'll make my own." And she stomped over to the kitchen- which was spotlessly clean, not a dirty dish to be seen- and began to make her own dinner, ignoring the amused gray eyes that observed her every move.
When he had finished his spaghetti, Draco stood abruptly and put his plate and cutlery in the dishwasher.
"How do you even know how to use this stuff?" Hermione mused, watching him as he bent over and carefully put his fork in, prongs up. "I mean, you wouldn't even have had this stuff at Malfoy Manor-"
"Granger, however cliché this may sound, you don't know me." Draco said coolly, standing up and staring down at her. "You never know, I might actually have lived in a Muggle building before, and had to use Muggle things, however disgusting they might have been."
"Oh please," scoffed Hermione, rolling her eyes. "How ridiculous."
Draco just shrugged and sipped his cup of coffee, watching her over the brim. Funnily enough, Granger, I have had to do that very thing. And some of them were disgusting, have you ever had to stay in a sleazy hotel you just know has prostitutes in it somewhere? I stayed in one of those a couple of times. Not nice, let me assure you.
He strode out of the kitchen, then reappeared a few minutes later with a dark cloak.
"What is that for-?"
"Granger, I'm going out."
Hermione was shocked. "W-what?"
"Going out, you know, leaving the establishment, departing the house-"
"Oh shut up, I know what 'going out' means. But you can't-"
"I'll be back around ten. Don't wait up for me, Granger. I know how late that is for you."
The door slammed shut as Hermione spluttered in outrage at the empty silence.
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Draco strode purposefully down the sprawling drive, ignoring the ghostly white peacocks as they materialised from the shadows. Years of practise had made him a master of deception. It had taught Draco not only to lie effectively with his words, but with his body, too, and now he betrayed no hint of emotion as he reached the Manor. Snape appeared out of thin air by his elbow.
"Draco." A smirk played at the corners of his lips. "So sorry about your loss. My deepest, ah, condolences for Lucius' death. I am sure you are... regretful... of his passing."
Draco inclined his head politely, his expression blank, though a hint of amusement found their way into his gray eyes. "Indeed. Thank you, Severus."
"Shall we?" said Snape, his gaze lingering on the empty grounds before slowly turning to the grand double doors before them.
Draco took a steadying breath before he opened the door.
It's showtime.
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Draco kicked open the door, strode in and slammed it behind him. His pale face was whiter than usual, and he looked tired and wan. He made a beeline for his bedroom, absolutely exhausted, when someone, who was much shorter than him, stopped him in his tracks.
"Malfoy, where the hell have you been?! It's quarter to three in the morning! You said you'd be back at eleven! That was over three hours ago!" Hermione stood in the hallway, and she approached him angrily, shoving an accusing finger into his chest.
Draco gritted his teeth, reigning his anger and frustration in. "Granger now is not the time-"
"Now is a very good time!" Hermione ranted, waving her arms around. "Now is a fantastic time for you to tell me-"
"Seriously, Granger," He said in a very low voice, so low that Hermione had to stop shouting for a moment to hear him. His soft voice rang out like bells in the sudden silence, each word a new peal. "If you value your safety, I'd get out of my face right now. Step aside, and let me into my room. I'd do it now, if I were you."
She obliged, hastily stepping out of the way and letting him past. "This isn't over!" She called out to him.
He ignored her.
"Hey! I was talking to y-"
Draco's patience snapped. He stormed over to her and put his face very close to hers. "Listen to me!" He commanded, his eyes compelling her with his fury. "This is over. This is over because I said it's over, got it? Now fuck off and let me go to fucking sleep, all right? Is that too much to fucking ask? No, I didn't think so. When you get home from a long day, do you want to argue incessantly with someone who has no idea about your personal life? No! You want to go to bed and finish the day, right? Well give me the same goddamn courtesy, Granger! I'm fucking over it! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more important things to do than stand here arguing about petty things like coming home late!"
And with that, he strode back to his room, muttering something and prodding the door in several places. At once, the door sprang open, and Draco stepped inside, slamming it shut with a resounding crash. Hermione's heart was pounding at his close proximity, at how very near his face had been to hers, his mercurial silver eyes flashing and angry. At once her cheeks began to flame. Hermione was mortified at this reaction. Pull yourself together, Hermione! What's gotten into you?! Blushing because Draco Malfoy was too close to you when he was shouting?! How stupid.
Something had caught Hermione's attention in his rant, however. Not once had he called her a Mudblood or told her how disgusting and filthy she was. She put it down to his being so tired and frustrated that he forgot to call her names. But now, Hermione was determined to find out what 'important things' he was doing in his room, and to do that, she had to figure out how to get into his room.
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The next day, Draco decided to go shopping for more clothes and food. "I'm going out, Granger."
"Where?"
"I'm not a fucking child, it's not of your fucking business."
"Fine."
"You're staying then?"
"Well I'm not going with you."
"I should bloody well hope not. I wouldn't want someone like you hanging around me like a bad smell."
"Hey-"
The front door opened and closed, and Hermione let out an annoyed huff, turning back to her book. Then she remembered her plan. She threw down her book in excitement, hurrying to the window in the lounge that looked out onto the street. Malfoy walked past, blonde head bowed and pale hands shoved into his pockets. She watched him walk until his was out of sight, then raced to his bedroom door, which was shut firmly. Hermione tried the obvious first, twisting the door handle. All she received was a small electric shock and a door that was still shut, so she tried a spell.
"Alohamora!"
Nothing happened.
"Hmmm..." she said, pacing backwards and forwards in front of his bedroom. "What if... Slytherin!"
Still nothing happened. She tried coming up with more verbal passwords for the next half hour, but none of them worked, so she moved on to spells. After spending a further hour on those she gave up, shoving her wand back in her sleeve in exasperation and disappointment just in time, because right then Draco came breezily through the door, loaded with what looked like designer shopping bags on one arm and the other holding several bags of groceries. Hermione had quickly darted into her room, coming out and pretending to look surprised as he set down the clothing bags at his door. Draco put the groceries on the counter, his drawling voice grating on her ears.
"You're welcome, Granger." He said, appearing once more and cocking a pale gold eyebrow at her. She just rolled her eyes. Draco watched her for a moment, his head tilted slightly to the side, then carefully looked her up and down, his eyes tightening in confusion. "What..." He whirled around to face his door, long pale fingers running over its gleaming surface. He turned back to face her, realisation dawning on his face. "Ah." Draco said, a smirk animating his face. "You tried to get into my room, didn't you?"
Hermione lifted her chin defiantly. "No."
"Yes you did!" He said, his smile growing. "I can tell."
"Oh sure. You're just saying that." She said, trying not to meet his eyes.
Draco just winked at her. "There are such things as spells you don't know, Granger."
"What are they then?" She asked, a triumphant smile colouring her features.
He tapped the side of his nose. "Can't tell you that. Some secrets are best kept that- secrets. Special, Death Eater secrets."
"Then how can you tell that I've been trying to get in?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow herself in condemnation.
"Because," Draco, who was looking rather amused for some reason, flicked his wand lazily at the door, muttering something under his breath that Hermione couldn't quite hear; at once, a pale gold shimmer appeared, gradually increasing in colour until it was a glorious gold shining brightly from his door. The gold snaked in and around itself, all different shapes, showing all the different wand movements she had made throughout the last few hours. It also told him all the combinations of words she had tried, and they stood out like accusations against the dark wooden door. "It has your magical footprint all over it."
Hermione gaped. "But... but how..."
Draco flicked his wand again and it disappeared, taking away Hermione's chance to wrack her brains for the spell he had used. "Like I told you, Granger. My secret."
"This-"
He cut her off, his eyes turning serious. "Don't try to get into my room again."
"Why not? There's nothing special in there."
"Exactly. Give a man some privacy."
Hermione said nothing, watching him fastidiously pick imaginary lint from his spotless black shirt.
"Well, run along. I'm sure you have much more childish things to get up to." Draco drawled, a condescending smirk stealing over his pale features.
Hermione merely lifted her chin and flounced away, mortified once again that he had bested her.
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Albus,
I sense trouble in the stars. I have foreseen consequences even you couldn't have imagined. I have seen people fall in love, and some bestowing such hatred upon one another it is hard to believe they are of the same side. I have also seen death, and bloodshed. My grandmother, Cassandra, was aware of these things even before I myself saw them. She dropped hints, scattered breadcrumbs, and I only pieced together the jigsaw now. Please, Albus, if there is anything you can do to gain the upper hand, I beg of you not to stay your hand any longer, and to play it instead.
In fearful hope,
Sybill Trelawney
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Note: Hello my faithful readers! Sorry I haven't updated for a few days, I have been working on this for a while (i.e. writing it and getting the plot up to scratch). I've decided to give Absolutely Nothing (I don't think I'll finish that one... I might even take it down. I'll have to see.) and Nights Like These a rest for the moment. I'm going to instead focus on Beneath the Darkness and this story here. This one will take longer to update, and it may alternate between this and BtD. I'm planning to make the chapters for this one much, much longer, roughly 5000 words for each. Hence, it will take much longer to get an update sorted out.
By the way, the stuff about the Trojan War is all true (or at least, is documented history). I can verify that because I had to write an exam for it for Classical Studies. *shrug* The more you know...
As always, let me know what you think of this new story, and whether you like where its going or not in a review! :) They are always, always appreciated, and though I don't have time to reply to them, I'd like to thank each and every one of you who have reviewed my other stories. Anyway, if you enjoyed, favourite and follow for more Dramione :D Thanks for reading!
~Chongy