Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, sadly, does not belong to me.
A/N: This fic was submitted for the Hawthorn & Vine archive Reverse Challenge Phase I, as an accompaniment to the art piece "Wand Symmetry" by sitrusky. You may like to first view the condensed artwork at dramione . org / files / reversechallenge / th _ wandcut . jpg (without the spaces), or the entire comic at sitrusky's LJ.
Enjoy!
The black ornate gate grilles, laced with dark green vine creepers, was an ominous frame of the mansion in the background. Hermione stood before it, gripping her wand tightly and tapping her foot impatiently, unsure of her next step.
Knock? Ring the doorbell? Get ready to cast a Shield Charm or hex?
Her eyes darted around, half expecting serpents to come slithering out of every nook and cranny of the high walls, hissing a cacophony that would make her shudder to the core.
Actually, she was already shivering. The cold wind and grey sky were not helping matters.
Okay, she could do this. Alone. This was why she hadn't asked Harry or Ron to accompany her despite their protests. She was supposed to come here alone and face up to it alone and get over and done with this alone and...
Hermione shut her eyes and raised two fingers to her forehead, massaging in circles.
It had been a little over two years since she had come near this place. In fact, she had sworn off coming a few kilometres near here, if not for the Ministry having issued a warrant to check for the presence of a particular Dark artifact that could possibly be still hidden within the vaults of this sprawling residence. Harry and Ron had insisted on coming along, or even swapping with her, but it was her duty, and the Ministry was expecting her to be fully responsible for this mission while allocating the other two other searches.
She hadn't the faintest idea whether Kingsley was trying to curb her fears by sending her there, or he was being manipulated by his fat arse of a Deputy Minister, who was more concerned about results and thus, completely unsympathetic to the phobias of War Heroes. Nevertheless, after receiving the assignment, she had been more than adamant to accomplish it on her own.
Though looking at the place where she nearly once lost her life was not reassuring at all.
Calm down, Hermione, calm down. She burrowed into her cloak further, still eyeing every part of the gate with utmost suspicion.
There was a red circle of light on the wall to the right. Hermione was surprised she hadn't spotted it earlier, for it was an irritating glare now that she had noticed. Instinctively, she stuck her wand against it, only to leap back with a gasp as the shock shot up her arm. A second later and the physical shock was forgotten. Instead, little curly wisps of smoke were rising from the tip of her wand. She waved a little too frantically, causing sparks to burst out from the wood.
Hermione stared at her wand in horror. One of her most important missions as an Auror, and her wand was malfunctioning? Her eyes travelled to the offending red light and back to her smoking wand.
Holy...
"Only the purest of wands can activate the gate."
Her entire body snapped rigid.
"Good evening, Granger. What brings you here?"
Even before she saw the pale blond shade and condescending smirk, she already recognised the arrogant lilt of his voice that always made her want to slap him senseless.
She had to maintain her professionalism, but good god, it was so hard to contain her despise for him.
Him. Draco Malfoy. The one who had stood by and watched like a coward when she was being ripped apart by curses and hexes in the basement of that hellhole she was now forced to visit. The one who had indirectly led to Dumbledore's death, and along the way, ended up cursing Katie and poisoning Ron. That naive, spineless creature. And he was still allowed to live in this opulent residence with his mother, free. What was the Ministry thinking when they thought Lucius' incarceration could cover his son's sins as well?
Her ears were ringing so loudly from her own words that she could barely hear his next words.
" –have to let St. Mungo's know they have an escaped mental patient."
"I am not mental," she finally spoke, her tongue thick and heavy.
Malfoy's smirk deepened, and Hermione found herself noting how angular his features were.
"If so, why are you here? For tea?"
The way he spoke – it was like nothing had changed. He was still the ridiculously spoilt and prejudiced brat of first-year. He was still the naive jerk of second-year who believed mud flowed through her veins, and the douchebag of third-year whom she had finally lost her cool at and hit hard. The git of fourth-year, ferret of the fifth...
Haven't you grown up – at all?
"Well then, since you don't appreciate some good English tea – goodbye, Granger," he said mockingly, turning to go.
"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy. I am Hermione Granger, and I'm here under the Auror Department's orders. We suspect the presence of a Dark artifact in this residence and have issued a search warrant. Please allow me to enter in order to conduct the search."
He stopped short, turned back, then walked up to the gate such that he was pressing against those bold, black grilles, his eyes burning with an expression that scared and impressed her at the same time.
"Still the same bloody pedant, Granger, for if you didn't stick to the rules you'd crumble to pieces. It's like your lifeline."
She looked at him coldly. "I'm not here to listen to you insult me."
"There's nothing here you're after."
"Then prove it."
"Why should I?" He sneered. "You know, I almost feel sorry for you that your life is so bloody pathetic. That it's been mapped out for you ever since you started raising your hand in class like you needed to grasp on to everything that could show others that you're not just a nobody."
He stuck his chin out further. "Tell me, how many times did your Muggle classmates laugh their arse off at you because you were such an outcast?"
Hermione knew she gave off the slightest of reactions, because there was an insufferable smirk on Malfoy's face that she wished she could hex off, except for the fact she was gripping what amounted to nothing more than a piece of wood. A thin one to boot, otherwise she would have clobbered him.
"My wand."
He arched an eyebrow, then dramatically gesticulated towards his house. "That means you still need to come in for some tea. How about some scones as well? I could get my house-elves to – oh, I forgot, Granger's the poster girl for free the house-elves from slavery! All creatures have rights! All creatures including pointy-eared mindless elves hav –"
"You're talking a lot for someone who knows very well his property is being watched closely by the Ministry. I don't have time to entertain you, Mr. Malfoy."
"You're talking big for someone who's going to be defenceless on my property."
He leant away and pulled out his wand. For a moment, she thought he was going to hex her, and she clutched at her wand. But then he waved it in the air in lazy circles. Her face twitched a little as she glared back at her own wand, which was still spewing out tiny spirals. There was a frightening creak that interrupted her thoughts as the gates slowly opened outwards.
She stumbled back, her heartbeat like the hammering of a timpani. Monochrome images were assaulting her mind in jolts, flashing snapshots that were almost like caricatures – a garishly-painted face looming over her, wand raised, a red-rimmed mouth frozen in horrific hilarity. A scream was about to erupt, she knew it, and she had to clutch at her robes to stop herself from hyperventilating. Eventually, the most she managed was a gasp of air escaping her lips.
Malfoy was already halfway on the path to the manor. She inhaled deeply, then followed.
-.-.-.-.-
"Is Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy in?" Hermione found her voice unfamiliar, but at least she had controlled the stupid urge to scream when she had stepped into the hallway. The chandeliers lit up the place so brightly that for a second, she almost thought it merry, only to remember where she was, and suddenly, Beethoven's Toccata and Fugue in D minor burst out in her head.
"Yes, but she is in her bedroom,"-Malfoy's voice was a blunt knife, a grateful slice through the sinister tune-"and I suggest that you don't bother her."
He turned around to face her, his eyes daring her to suggest otherwise.
"Can I please inspect the vaults in which your father used to hide his Dark artifacts?"
"You people have searched them inside out. There is no need to be so obsessive," said Malfoy icily, and when his steely grey eyes bore dangerously into hers, she suddenly felt the naivety of the snobbish little boy ebb away from him.
Death Eater, of sixth-year.
She shouldn't have been afraid of him; it was the place that made her composure falter. She had spent hours trying to convince Harry and Ron that Draco Malfoy was no longer a threat because he had been a mindless minion. But somehow when she looked into those eyes, that argument fell short.
Malfoy was not mindless.
She maintained her composure as she stared back coolly. "I've got the warrant. There is no room for arguments."
His jaw hardened as he raised his wand, but she stood her ground. No way was she going to give him the cheap thrill of power over her. She was a Ministry employee, an Auror, and he was an ex-Death Eater. There should be no question as to who was supposed to be the one in authority.
He lowered his wand, but pointed it at her instead. "How did Potter and Weasley ever bear to let you walk in here?"
Hermione shot him an incredulous look. "Excuse me?"
"Look at you, Granger." Malfoy waved his wand carelessly in front of her face. "Drained of colour, shaking, trying to act pompous. Why the bloody hell have they sent you?"
What was he doing this for? Was he leading her into some kind of trap? She hated knowing that he knew her Achilles heel and was aiming straight at it.
"Mr. Malfoy, I..."
"Your job sucks." His grip on his wand suddenly seemed just as tight as hers was on her own. "Mr. Malfoy? You can bring yourself to keep saying that? Haven't you always wanted to take that wand of yours and turn me into a ferret like Mad-Eye Moody did?"
She almost wanted to shout out right then that she had actually defended him against Harry's and Ron's approval of Moody's actions, but the glint in his eye was revolting. And she was regretting that she ever defended him.
"As it is, I heard Harry say you looked just like I do now when you were faced with Dumbledore."
What? Why had she said that?
She didn't really know if the look on his face was the desired effect, but there was a buzz under her skin that was discomfiting.
"The vaults," she said, trying to remain calm. "Please."
His lip curled. "What a Gryffindor. What a really stupid Gryffindor."
Won't break, will you, my stupid, brave little Gryffindor?
Stupid, brave little Gryffindor. Where is Harry, my dear? Is he coming to save you?
A shudder ran through her. Then, it all happened too suddenly.
She didn't even see it coming; a tidal wave of memories and emotions that just overwhelmed her in an instant, then swept her into darkness. The next thing she knew, she was lying on something soft and warm.
Or rather, she was being shrouded in something soft and warm.
Hermione sat up immediately, flinging the covers off her. Where was – wait a second, who is that?
It took her a full second to recognise the back of the person she was staring at. This was – this was his bed! Why was she – what had he – The moment he turned around, she glared at him.
"What have you done?"
Malfoy arched an eyebrow. "Really, Granger, every time you wake up from bed and you see a bloke hanging around, do you always reckon he's shagged you? What happens to Weas–"
"Shut up, Malfoy!" Her fingernails dug into the mattress. Was he ever going to be serious?
"Ah, I think I prefer our conversation to flow along these lines. Finally got that dratted Mr. Malfoy out of your system, haven't we?"
"Why am I here?"
"For your information,"–he walked over with a glass of water and set it roughly on the dresser beside the bed, excess spilling over–"you fainted in my sitting room. As a gracious host, I couldn't possibly be leaving you lying on the carpet, or else your darling Potter and Weasley will have me up for kidnapping should you take too long to wake from your deep slumber."
I fainted? Hermione brought her hand up to her aching forehead. Not again. She could feel the familiar flaming sensation rise up her neck and cheeks again. "Well then, as a gracious guest, I shan't put you out for too long either. Tea isn't exactly the perfect beverage for this miserable weather anyway. The vaults, Malfoy, and I'll be done."
He walked towards a chair by the side and sat down roughly.
"I want to know what evidence you all have that my father is still concealing a Dark artifact."
Malfoy's voice had suddenly changed to something more serious, and more surprisingly, urgent. Hermione looked at him suspiciously. It was hard to figure out someone when most of what you'd known about him are from stories told by others who never even really knew him themselves. And from what little you really knew for yourself, was something so repulsive and yet so pathetic.
Malfoy was a paradox. Hermione couldn't even tell whether he was supporting his father's continued delusions of the power of Voldemort, or if he was sick and tired of being controlled by such a paternalistic authority.
"What are you up to?" She narrowed her eyes at him.
There was a long silence.
Malfoy fingered his wand along its length, his eyes following his fingers. Hermione found herself inexplicably drawn to watching his fingers as well. He was caressing his wand, gently. Strangely enough, it made her wonder who Draco Malfoy really was. The harsh words and feathery touches were a jarring disharmony that made her uncomfortable. It seemed like ages before he finally spoke.
"We destroyed everything. My mother and I. All that revolting stuff my father kept. We left some of them for the Ministry to clear, so that they'd feel bloody victorious about cleansing us. Load of shit, that was. You know, Granger," –he barked out a harsh laugh– "I finally knew how you felt when I called you Mudblood."
Hermione kept her gaze on his fingers instead of his face.
"I wish them joy of cleansing my father." His tone was now drenched in bitterness. "And now I suppose I'll wish you joy of trying to find another bone of contention with us. It's never enough, isn't it?"
Hermione contemplated retorting back, but she bit her tongue lightly. She took a deep breath. "There is a checklist compiled by the Ministry, of artifacts that have allegedly existed at some point in time or another, and one of them has not been found."
"So you decide that it's here?" Malfoy shot her a sideways glance.
"We're searching all the residences of ex-Death Eaters, if they ever had one. It's a mass search, you don't have to be so defensive."
"Try having Ministry employees shuttling in and out as if this was their personal resort."
"It's not a resort for me, and I don't intend it to be," said Hermione, getting off the bed. She winced as a sharp pain shot through her head.
"Of course it was never intended to be. You still haven't answered me. Why did you choose to come here then, if it was a mass search? Surely you could have asked to be deployed elsewhere."
Malfoy's tone was void of any emotion, but Hermione was startled by what he had said. Why did he sound as if–
"I don't give a bloody arse about you, Granger, if that's what you think." He looked back at his wand. "But I'm not a fool either, and I know what happened the last time you stepped into this house of mine."
She knew she was trembling, and she felt ashamed. But she mustered up enough strength to glare at him. "The. Vaults."
"They're down there." Malfoy cocked his head to the side, taking his fingers off the wand and pointing downwards in a lazy motion. "Basement."
"Malfoy, are you trying to hide something?"
"I'm trying to save you from another fainting spell."
Sparks flew out of the wand she was still clenching in her fist. Clearly, Malfoy had figured out that it hadn't been a coincidence. He seemed to always be a step ahead of her, and it irritated her immensely. She just wanted to check and be done; she wasn't even sure if the artifact was here. The way Malfoy was blabbering on and on about her phobia was unsettling to say the least, but also rather strange. What was he really up to?
She realised then, that she really knew very little about Malfoy.
"Well then, are you trying to redeem yourself after you failed the previous time?"
He hadn't moved, but it felt like the air had stilled.
I hope you feel it. I hope you feel just as asphyxiated as I did.
"What makes you think,"–he drew out the words slowly and crisply– "that I was even trying?"
Hermione sat very still for a few seconds before she made to walk towards the door. Just as she strode past him, his hand flew out to grab her wrist. Instantly, she tried to wrench it away, but ended up tripping over her feet and landing at his own. Her skirt had hiked up, and a deep heat spread up her neck as she attempted to push it down with her hand.
"Let go of me! You... you–"
He bent over from where he was seated, his face looming over hers till she cringed. "Are you going to report me, Granger?"
He let go of her wrist so suddenly that she tumbled back a little more. Quickly, she leapt up and brushed down her skirt, her face an entire ball of heat from rage and embarrassment.
"Relax, I wouldn't bother to see your knickers – if you were even wearing any," he said, with a snicker.
Hermione wished she had the ability to channel all the heat from her body into fireballing him. If only... She glared at her scapegoat of a wand.
"The vaults, Malfoy, or I'd really have to get Harry and Ron into this. Having your way with me is one thing, having your way with all three of us is another. And I'm sure you know getting someone like Pansy Parkinson into the fray won't help your cause either."
"Pansy?" He arched an amused eyebrow. "What's that got to do with her?"
"Well, isn't she your girlfriend? The one who sits at your feet and yaps at you like a woebegone–"
"Don't speak like you know anything," Malfoy scoffed. "Here I am, trying to be bloody nice to you and informing you that if you go any lower than this floor, I might have to send you to St. Mungo's, and oh, what a headline that would be – Ex-Death Eater sends War Heroine to Hospital–"
"What is it that you're after?" Hermione demanded.
He flexed his jaw. "Well then, you weren't the Hogwarts Valedictorian for nothing, were you?"
She folded her arms.
Malfoy's face turned grim. "Is the artifact you're looking for something that is Antimagic?"
Hermione froze once again. "How – how did you – are you saying that–"
"Where did your perfect articulation go, Granger? I thought we just had a couple of warm-ups." But his face was looking rather odd now. Hermione couldn't quite put her finger on it.
"It's here after all!"
"Granger, I was asking. I – have heard of Antimagic." He smiled crookedly – a very strange expression for Draco Malfoy, whose face had always been about sharp angles and sly curves, not sad ones. "It is very powerful and dangerous, and it can be exploited to the fullest by some people."
She eyed him suspiciously. It can be exploited to the fullest by some people. "But – you said you and your mother cleaned out the whole place!"
"Well then, I didn't say that it exists. But just in case it does, well..." His face turned grim. "I watched you nearly die down there before, I don't wish to relive that."
"Well, I appreciate that, but–"
"Bloody hell, Granger, you don't get it!" He suddenly stood up and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her so hard that her teeth chattered in her head. "No more deaths, no more deaths, do you get it? Do you get it?"
"You – are – freaking – insane!" Hermione screamed, trying her best to push him away, but he clung on, his eyes glazed over with manic fear. It was looking in those frightened eyes that she had a feeling of deja vu.
And then she knew.
"It really is down there!" she whispered, horrified.
"I didn't say anything like that!" he snapped.
"That's the same look you gave me when I was at the edge of my life," she hissed. "You want me to go down there to help you find that Antimagic, because you know it exists and you haven't been able to find it, am I right?"
It was instantaneous, the way Malfoy's face morphed back to the expression of incredulity, this time mixed with fear. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His eyebrows furrowed together, then he arched them before looking away, gritting his teeth.
"Didn't think I couldn't guess it, did you?"
He glared at her, seething with equal intensity of rage. "On the contrary, I'm trying to make you give up! And why would I ever think that you could get something done that I couldn't do myself?"
He wanted her to go down and help him find it, but at the same time, he wanted her to give up? What was he talking about? What was he doing?
"Oh shut up, Granger, leave if you want! The gates are WIDE OPEN for you to LEAVE!"
The confusion was too much for her to bear.
"Malfoy!" She tried to toss her head to get the perspiration-matted curls out of her face. "I chose this job because I wanted to get rid of my fears – I chose to come here because I wanted to deal with them. I wanted to tell myself, Harry and Ron that I could face up to all the nightmares that have been haunting me since the War, since I had been down there! I can stand here and take all those stupid, hateful reminders from you because I want to prove that even if I can't forget, I can stand in front of everything that hurt me and throw it all back just because I can! Damn you, Malfoy, for standing there, for watching like some helpless puppy, and now you think you can try redeeming yourself by keeping me from going down there? What if it's something that could take your life along with your mother's? Are you going to leave it down there? Are you going to leave it there till it fully eats into your mind and corrupts your soul? You dare tell me you haven't been dreaming about going down in there just to use that thing? You dare say?"
She was so exhausted after her rant that she went flaccid in his grip; it was like he was propping her up now. He was staring back at her, his eyebrows dipping down, pushing up wrinkles in his forehead.
"Hermione, don't be so stubborn!" Ron pleaded. "I can still hear you crying out till this day, it's just – it's just –" "Ron, if I can't do this job by myself, how am I going to be a good Auror? Am I going to condemn myself to this phobia for as long as I live? You know my answer!" "Hermione, Ron's right, you don't have to prove yourself to anybody, even yourself." Harry's voice was less agitated, but just as urgent. "I've made up my mind, you two. Are we friends, or not?" "I hate it when you corner us like this." Ron turned away.
"Shit!" Malfoy's string of profanities, along with his tightened grip on Hermione's shoulders, startled her out of her thoughts. "My mother's awake!"
Indeed, there were footsteps, and before Hermione could say or think anything, Malfoy was dragging her away to the next room, and the next (god, how many rooms were there in this place?), before finally to a corner, where he waved his wand over to reveal a little trapdoor. Quickly, he yanked it open – and there was no doubt he wanted Hermione to go down there.
Hermione stared at the trapdoor. "Malfoy, I–"
"Don't tell me your bloody phobia is acting up now! Stupid Gryffindor, get down there!" And he hurriedly shoved her down the steps, and before she knew it, he had slammed the door above her.
"MY WAND," she began, only to realise that it was really a bad move to alert Narcissa Malfoy to her presence, "is still not working." She groaned and slumped on the steps. "Malfoy, you jerk."
Her wand responded with a few sparks, but that was all.
And it was only then that she realised she could see nothing but pitch darkness. It was as if she was staring at a gaping hole and she had to grip onto the edges of the stone steps to prevent herself from falling headlong into emptiness. Acrophobia, claustrophobia, Malfoy-Manor-phobia... Everything was just out for her life!
No wand, oh my god, no wand, what am I... Harry! Ron! Malfoy – Malfoy, where are you? Help! Help me! HELP!
Convulsing with hapless fright, she huddled in a corner, pulling her knees close to her chest. She would fall otherwise, fall into that abyss that would swallow her whole...
Stupid, brave little Gryffindor...
"Help..." She was whimpering, but she couldn't help it. She should have left when Malfoy demanded her to! Why didn't she leave? What was she doing?
Darling Potter and Weasley can't save you, my dear – little – MUDBLOOD!
She screamed, but no sound came out. Her fists were clenched, tightly pressed against her throbbing temples, and she was rocking back and forth trying to push the memory out of her head. Hot, shaky tears were trickling out of her eyes. Worst of all, Bellatrix's voice was playing on endlessly around her–
Asphyxiation – you feel it now, don't you?
Light!
Her whole body shuddered in reaction.
"What the–"
She could barely hear his footsteps, but she could feel warmth envelop her shoulders.
In an instant, she flung her arms out wildly.
"OWW! Granger, what the – AHHHH!"
And then she was rolling downwards, bumping down the steps towards the abyss. She tried to put out her hands to break her fall, but it seemed that she would end up breaking her fingers instead. The light that had startled her was getting further and further away! Her mind was no longer functioning coherently, instead, all that was assaulting her brain was the thought that oh my god, I'm going to die...
Something – or someone – grabbed her wrist, and her fall was slowing. She nearly banged her head against the wall, but her free hand shot out in time to protect her skull from being smashed. Eventually, she tipped over the last step and landed quite roughly on her back. A sharp pain shot up her spine, and she winced. Considering that every part of her body was throbbing crazily, it was quite unlikely that she was dead.
Unfortunately, she seemed to have narrowly caused the death of someone. There was a long string of profanities threading through the musty air. Hermione cringed as she tried to sit up, her hand holding her aching head.
"Is that–"
"It bloody well is! Oh fu–"
"What are you swearing for?" Hermione still couldn't think straight. All she could feel now was relief that she hadn't killed herself rolling down that flight of stone steps. Clearly, Malfoy was still alive and kicking as well, so he probably hadn't a reason to scream at her. It wasn't her fault that she–
"What am I swearing for? What the – damn it – LUMOS!"
Suddenly, light burst out from the walls, and Hermione could see Malfoy's furious face aglow in the eerie orange of the wall flames. He was holding up something, and when she squinted, she gave a little gasp of horror.
The tip of his wand was emitting the same kind of sparks hers did. She almost raised her wand to compare, but his right arm snapped down, hiding his wand in the darkness. What he did not hide, however, was the rage that hardened his face.
"Then how did you–" She blinked. "Oh, oh right. Wandless magic. Wow. But – hey, you said you'd repair my wand!"
Malfoy gave her an incredulous look, then it morphed into a furious one. Hermione groaned inwardly. Indeed, if he could not repair his own wand, he must have been lying about being able to help her. He was using her, and she had let him!
He cursed again, then flung his robes over himself as he turned away from her, striding down the corridor.
"Hey, hey, where are you going?"
He spun back, eyes narrowed, lips curled. "The vaults," he mimicked her voice, "please."
She flushed angrily. "You–"
"I'm warning you – don't you dare make a scene down here," he said, rage barely concealed on his face. "That was a close shave just now. If my mother ends up making her way down here, you'll be sorry. She's got enough misery as it is."
"I'm not making a–"
"It's down there."
"So do you want me to go and find it, or do you want me to leave?" she demanded angrily.
With that short silence, she realised he didn't really know either. Honestly, Malfoy was aggravating her headache.
"Okay, shut up, Malfoy, I don't want to know. I'm going to find it because I have to."
Something was telling her to leave this place now, and her wand was spluttering sparks every now and then as if warning her against taking another step.
"So?" He was watching her wand. "Regretting?"
But she had come all the way here, and that in itself made her all the more determined to get through this herself. Somehow, she didn't see it in Malfoy to murder her, though that very thought made her shudder all over again.
"Down it is."
Malfoy snorted, then walked on.
-.-.-.-.-
"How did you know about the Antimagic properties of that artifact? Do you know what artifact–"
"Will it kill you to just shut up and walk and see for yourself?"
"Malfoy, I'm not a fool either. The moment you–"
"It's a myth. I was just–"
"Feeding my fantasies? That's a flimsy excuse to–"
He stopped short, and she nearly collided with him. She backtracked two steps as he turned around to glare at her.
"What?" She threw him a challenging look. It was bad enough to have to come to the Manor, resulting in her wand malfunctioning at the best time possible, then being shoved into some dark place and end up rolling down a flight of steps, nearly breaking her bones in the process. Next, she had to walk along walls that felt like they would close in on her any moment – the word asphyxiate was once again running through her mind. Worst of all, Malfoy was clearly hiding something that would make her job a thousand times easier, but no, he had to be all secretive and a total prat about it. Did he really think she was so stupid?
"You don't have proof, Granger," Malfoy said silkily. "So just use your eyes and find whatever you want to find. I'm not your Omnioculars, nor am I your encyclopaedia."
She drew in a sharp breath. "You know it's here and you're hiding it."
He narrowed his eyes. "Don't insinuate, Granger. I could have you up for slander."
It was her turn to snort. "Throwing the money around, aren't we? Who's supposed to cooperate with who here?"
"Don't forget your–"
"What, my wand? I'm staring at yours now, and it doesn't look very potent to–"
He threw her a look of disgust, then continued to walk ahead and down a flight of steps, muttering under his breath.
"Regretting now that you stopped me from calling you Mr. Malfoy?"
"If you had continued since earlier on, I would have fainted before you did."
She blinked as he turned a sharp right and swiped his right fist against the wall in a flash. Before she could blink a second time, a thin red outline of a door began to appear.
"What is–"
The slender line began to thicken. As it did, the slab of stone began to move sideways. Malfoy wasted no time walking through the archway, but Hermione merely stared at the red outline. An insatiable curiosity made her lift a finger.
"Don't touch that."
She hurriedly withdrew the guilty appendage and followed him. Once she stepped past the wall, the door rumbled shut behind her. The final click shot a tremor through her. She struggled to look ahead, only to see that Malfoy was facing her.
"What?" She felt a hot red seep into her cheeks, and getting angry with her embarrassment was not helping.
"To get to the vaults, you need to walk through – the basement."
Her eyes sought Malfoy's, but found nothing but grey voids.
"It's okay."
This time, his eyes narrowed into slits. "If you faint, I'm not going to bother anymore. I think I made it clear."
"Yes, you did."
"None of my business."
"I don't expect more from you."
"Why?"
His voice had cracked, and it startled her tremendously.
"Why are you so bloody adamant to face up to something that could break you? Why do you care that you have to face up to it?" She couldn't quite make out if he was sneering or pleading. "And why don't you care that you could die? Do you think I'm incapable of killing you?"
She struggled to stay calm, but the last question nearly made her burst out into derisive laughter. Did he know how foolish he sounded when he said that? Was that how he sounded when he threatened Dumbledore?
"My answers are not applicable to you," she replied, trying to steady herself. "You don't have to know them."
This time, she could feel that his eyes were searching hers, so she kept her gaze elsewhere. She couldn't let Malfoy break her resolve at this very moment. If she had to walk through that goddamn basement, she would walk through it.
I won't let you break me.
"Besides," she said, "you aren't giving me answers, so why should I?"
He didn't say a word, only to move away. This prompted her to look up.
And there it was, right in front of her. The entire scene that haunted her dreams every single night. The grey stone walls crumbling in patches, with dark stains which she feared she had contributed some, the dusty floor and crates, the scattered pile of armour that was the fate of a steel soldier knocked down by Harry's spells. There was a murky hint of light that came from a small little opening high up, shrouding the place with a sinister feel. She was trembling once again, and her knees were wobbling so hard she could barely take another step. She tried again, only to have her right knee buckle.
"Granger!" His hand shot out to grip her elbow. "I told you–"
She flung his hand off, garnering a furious glare in response. "I can – do this. Where is it?"
He glowered, before jerking his head towards a particularly dark corner. "Another door there."
"Really, Malfoy," she choked out. "What's with your father's obsession with all these secret compartments?"
"In the Dark side," she could feel Malfoy lean closer to her as he spoke, "everything is that compartmentalised. Including our minds, our hearts. You can never cross beyond any point. But people like you? One stab, and you completely fall apart."
She tried to lean away, but only succeeded in brushing her elbow against his hand, which was still outstretched.
"Isn't it better that way?" she asked. "I don't have to suffer. Whereas people like you end up having to watch parts of you break away, fade, wilter, die."
"What are you talking about, Granger?" She swore his voice carried a note of amusement.
"You call me a pedant. You're like a robot. It's like even when your conscience dies, you're just standing there by the side and–"
"I don't know what the hell a robot is, but I know that you're going somewhere you don't want to go."
"I am already doing that by being here."
Malfoy looked at her with such intensity that she hurriedly averted her gaze.
Stupid, brave little Gryffindor...
Hermione began to cross over to the dark corner of the basement. She couldn't find the strength to take bigger strides and hurry over, but she was walking and walking – her right foot nearly collided with her left, but she was still walking, her eyes fixed on the corner as she willed herself not to look back at the other corner where everything had transpired. She walked under the dull beam of light, suppressing the urge to run towards the source, like she had hoped for a thousand times while she had lied there, struggling on the ground. She struggled not to hear the laughter and screams in her head, not to think that in this corner that she was walking towards – was where Draco Malfoy had stood, watching.
Stupid, brave little–
No matter how hard she tried, her very own horror movie soundtrack was playing non-stop in her auditory system. Bellatrix's cackling laughter, her own screams, Ron's faint agonising yell, the scratching sounds from the mouse holes, the sickening bang of her head against the wall over and over again as the bass beat, Bellatrix's cackling laughter, her own screams...
" –you don't have to prove yourself to anybody, even yourself!"
"Hermione, please..."
"Oh, we haven't had enough fun, have we, Mudblood? Want some more?"
Her hands plastered against the wall. Firmly. Desperately.
Her knees gave way, and she sank down slowly, palms still hard-pressed against the cold, stone wall.
But before she hit the ground, she found her arms falling onto a warm, strong support. Malfoy. He was holding her up. She turned around to try to look at him, but all she got was a view of his hair glowing white in the dull beam. It reminded her of Lucius Malfoy in the Department of Mysteries, and a fresh wave of memories hit her again.
"Granger!" Malfoy's sharp voice roused her from her reverie. She shook her head hard and lifted herself up with the help of Malfoy's arms. The moment her two feet were firmly on the ground, he withdrew his arms so quickly she nearly overbalanced again. It was then that she saw his face, half-lit, and he was staring at her incredulously. Her neck began to burn, and she clapped one of her hands on the heat instinctively.
"What are you staring at?"
He chuckled a little, a hint of bitterness in it, then shook his head lightly. "Granger, you're incredibly dumb."
"Says the one who has yet to find the Antimagic after so many years of living in this place."
He gave her a vicious glare, before performing the same strange fist movement against the wall. In the darkness, she couldn't see if it was the same red outline, but the wall began to rumble all the same, a rousing crescendo. Soon after, Malfoy had disappeared into the opening, and she followed. It was so dark she could hardly see, her fingertips reaching out to graze the walls as she took each step tentatively.
Hermione Granger, what have you gotten yourself into?
A door later, and she was swathed in blue light.
Hermione's first thought was that it looked very much like the Department of Mysteries, which clearly did not help her attempt to calm herself down after stepping away from the nightmare of the torture chamber. Her eyes darted around the large vault, scrutinising every nook and cranny in a matter of seconds. It was mostly empty, since the Ministry had ordered it to be cleared out after Lucius' incarceration.
"You see." Malfoy's bored voice rang in echoes. "Nothing."
Hermione walked towards the centre of the room. "Honestly, Malfoy. You know that's not what I want to hear."
She could picture him glowering behind her, but she shrugged nonchalantly as her eyes scanned the area one last time. It stopped on the ceiling where a small piece of – something – was fitted into; whatever it was had emitted the soft blue light.
"It's a Sapphiris Stone," she whispered.
"And what is so fascinating about that?" Malfoy leant against the wall, eyeing her lazily. "Some of the artifacts here couldn't withstand wand light."
"Why didn't the Ministry remove it then?"
"Are you suspecting we hid something in that Stone?"
"We? Malfoy, this is obviously not the vault you want me to take a look at. You know this place. I want the one you don't know about."
He stared at her, no longer laidback. Instead, his expression bordered a little on bewilderment. "Granger, how–"
She pointed to her head. "Now really, we've had enough time wasted."
To her surprise, he chuckled. "My, Granger, you're sounding more and more like Professor McGonagall."
She found herself feeling hot all over again as he strode past her to open another door. Once again, there were many doors to pass through and irritation was about to overcome her when he flung open one of the doors with a bit more… enthusiasm. Instantly, she brushed past him to stare at the vault. It was bathed in the same blue light as before and was just as empty. However, her quick eyes sought out where he was looking at, and she crossed over to the end of the room.
"What aroused your suspicion, Malfoy?"
"What suspicion? I–"
She put her hands on her hips, throwing him a side glare as he walked up to where she was.
He threw up his hands in exasperation. "All right, all right! I just thought the dimensions of this vault happens to be smaller than the rest." He pointed at where the wall met the floor with his boot. "But I've tried all ways possible to knock this wall down and obviously, it doesn't work."
Hermione could have grinned if the situation allowed for it. This was as good as admitting that it might work if she handled it instead. Oh, what had the world come to that Malfoy would have to indirectly admit he needed her help?
"Wipe that smirk off your face, Granger."
"I am perfectly expressionless." With that, she walked over to the next vault, scanned it, then looked back at the wall which Malfoy was facing. She walked the length of the wall, then squatted down to scrutinise it further.
"Really, is there a need to–"
"As it is, you seem to have forgotten both of us are quite handicapped without our wands. As talented as you may think you are or claim to be, I'm quite sure the act of wandless magic you performed on the flames earlier was because your father charmed this place to respond to you. And certainly, he did not perform the same charm on something he wished to hide from you."
He eyed her irritatedly, before lowering his gaze back to the wall.
"Tell me, Malfoy, what are you really up to? I need to know before I can help you."
"You know, I'm not trying to be evasive or fooling around with you," said Malfoy, curtly. "And I'm not trying to be bloody nice or some kind of crap like that."
"The Malfoys were never known for charity." Hermione looked at him coldly.
Malfoy curled his lip slightly. "Especially not to people like you."
She pretended to be examining the wall further, pressing her lips firmly together.
It took a while more before Malfoy opened his mouth again; this time, his voice sounding a little different. "It's people like you that disgust me. All that morality and goodness that you preach, as though everything's so black and white in the wizarding world. It's like if you take all of your morals and values and clutch it to your chest forever, you'd soar on that straight route to heaven, like what you're doing now – Order of Merlin, First Class, Hogwarts Valedictorian, Auror – really, it's all perfect and pretty for you. It's disgusting how everything turns out beautifully for you. And guess what?"
He clenched his teeth together, and his fists were shaking. "I'm the Malfoy heir, a pureblood who could have had the world at my feet, while you're nothing but a pathetic little Mudblood whom I watched get tortured to the cusp of death. That's right, I admit it, I watched. From that corner you fell down at. I wanted to watch you come in here and fall that way you did, crumble, beg at my feet to let you out of these gates. I wanted to see you at a loss for what to do instead of being a righteous prig at Bellatrix Lestrange's feet unwilling to succumb. I wanted to see you surrender. But you just bloody won't. Instead, you show me that if you've a duty to perform, you'll perform it to the death, and you won't give up. And that's not some noble act, Granger, it's disgusting. Why won't you give up – why won't you?"
It was frightening, the way he was almost howling towards the end. It was so frightening to see Draco Malfoy suddenly looking so vulnerable, blue skin and shadow lines tracing the agony on his face, that she quickly looked away again. This time, there was no heat, but a chilly undercurrent in her veins.
"That has nothing to do with the Antimagic," Hermione said, quietly.
There was another silence that made her shiver. She knew what he was talking about, but she couldn't let him believe that. Unless he was lying. But the pain in his voice... he had wanted to give up. But like her, he ended up performing his duty to the very end. Regardless, she couldn't let him equate their situations. Apart from doing this for herself, she was doing this for good, for the wizarding world. He? He should have known better.
Really?
For all the times she had thought him naive, immature and prejudiced, she realised she had never thought that he had been struggling through everything. Perhaps because as a Malfoy, a pureblood, he had everything to his name, everything he ever wanted. She had thought she was the one struggling to prove to everyone that a Muggle-born could be as outstanding as any pureblood. Suddenly, a pang of guilt struck her, making her wince.
"Tell me," Malfoy cocked his head to the side, his voice still trembling slightly, "how the Ministry came to know of the existence of an Antimagic artifact."
Hermione drew a deep breath. Was it right that she told him? Would he reciprocate?
"We don't know much about Antimagic," she said tentatively. "But just before he died, Regulus Black left a message in his house for the Order. Harry found it one day when cleaning out an area, and he got into a huge fight with Kreacher about it, but he managed to retrieve it after all. There were bits and pieces about the Antimagic, but it meant it existed. From what we have gathered, Voldemort created it, but could not control it, so he had to store it somewhere. It is charmed into an artifact, and will accumulate over time, which is why it has to be destroyed at all costs."
Malfoy snorted. "Loyal to the Black family indeed."
Hermione looked at Malfoy. "Now, how did you know of it?"
The silence was quite uncomfortable, but she waited as patiently as she could.
"My father once told me that he was in possession of something very powerful." Malfoy's voice was even quieter than Hermione's that she had to strain to listen. "It could cripple a wizard or witch as much as it could empower them, in an instant, if only one knew how to use it. No one would suspect a thing, for Antimagic was not only outlawed, it required very deep, Dark magic in order to create it."
"Just like the Horcruxes," whispered Hermione.
"Yes, just like the Horcruxes," said Malfoy, with a little sneer. "But people underestimate the Dark Lord. There could even be more things lying around on Earth that are not in the Ministry's list."
Hermione couldn't help but sigh a little. The Auror Department had long suspected that, but to hear it from Malfoy directly was quite demoralising. When would the world be rid of vermin like Voldemort? Even though he was dead, his legacy refused to end. Some fool would come across the hidden powers, like this Antimagic, and the sheer power would corrupt him to the bone. She couldn't help eyeing Malfoy a little suspiciously. As much as he spoke of wanting her to surrender earlier on, he still wanted her to help him find the Antimagic. Why – why was he so eager to find it? Was he – the fool?
"He never told me whether it was here. But–"
"You figured."
Malfoy did not reply.
"There is nothing in literature about Antimagic," said Hermione, biting her lip.
"Nothing."
"Do you have something sharp with you?"
Malfoy frowned. "Why?"
She held out her hand. He gave her a grim look, before he dug out a pocket knife from his cloak. "If you're thinking about cutting your way through, Granger, that's quite–"
"Silly, yes, how could you have thought of it?" She threw him a bemused look, which he responded sourly to. Then, she tucked her wand in her cloak pocket, flicked the knife open and placed it above her left palm.
"Granger, what are you – what the–"
She drew the blade down the edge of her palm, carving out rivulets of red that made Malfoy gasp. The pain stung horribly, and she was sure it showed on her face. Not to mention that there was no chance of her healing it till she got her wand repaired. But there were more deadly things lying in wait for her compared to a bleeding palm.
She pressed her palm against the wall.
Instantly, the stone wall disappeared, leaving behind an ice wall instead. But they could see through the ice wall, where the surrounding walls were glowing white and blue. A table was directly in the middle of the space behind the wall, and on top of it was an odd-shaped rock that sparkled orange and red at different angles. There were wisps of orange and red clouds floating about the space as well, a very strange, yet mesmerising sight.
"Antimagic... the essence of a Muggle-born's blood would be literally anti-magic..." Malfoy whispered.
"It was – worth a shot."
Hermione tried to breathe steadily to take her mind off the throbbing pain. Then she sneaked a look at Malfoy's face, only to see him looking in wondrous awe at the sight before him. The edge of his lips were twitching, and eventually he broke into a crooked smile that was strangely endearing. Hermione couldn't think of a time when Malfoy actually looked so genuinely happy and decent.
"What are you smiling at, Malfoy?" She fought an urge to smile herself.
"I don't know. It's just–"
Her urge to smile vanished. What was she thinking? Malfoy could be coveting the Antimagic for himself for all she knew. She gripped her wand tighter and focused on the stone. Now how was she supposed to bring it back with her to the Ministry? What if, along the way, something happened to her while she was carrying it? It was too lethal, too dangerous an item. Kingsley had mentioned that if their lives were put at risk, they were given permission to destroy it. But Malfoy wouldn't let her, she realised, looking at his mesmerised expression. With her wand not working (not to mention a bleeding palm now), she could not possibly defeat him based on physicality, nor could she destroy the artifact outright. She was beginning to think it would have been better to have left earlier to repair her wand for a next visit. The Malfoy Manor had been the most suspicious given that it had been the venue of several Death Eater meetings. Yet somehow, there had been a huge urge to overcome her phobia of the place, goaded on by Malfoy's insults. Now it was too late to turn back; it was his house she was in, and there would be no way of escaping if he wished against it.
Malfoy reached out tentatively to touch the ice wall. "The whole space there is covered with Antimagic." He pointed to the orange-red cloud that floated past. "That's why it's been frozen."
Now things were more complicated than what she thought. An entire space full of Antimagic? If they broke that ice wall, they could be consumed by a power so strong – of which the consequences would be beyond their imagination. Her brain was getting overheated thinking about what they should do, and with every second that passed, she could feel impatience radiating from Malfoy and her heartbeat accelerating.
"Don't, Malfoy."
The words came out before she could swallow them. Her eyes widened as Malfoy flinched. Hermione Granger, what have you just done? She gripped her wand tightly, and she could feel the vibration of sparks spurting out from its tip.
"Don't – what?" He pronounced the words slowly, carefully.
"I–"
"Don't go near it? Don't try to touch it? Don't try to possess it?" His mouth curved into a bitter smirk. "Whatever I do or say, it will always be within that confined pedantic mind of yours. It's already got a fixed mould for me, a fixed coffin, and everything I say is just another nail in the wood."
Hermione looked back at the artifact, blinking rapidly. "You're pathetic, Malfoy. You're always putting the blame on others. How can you blame us for thinking that way when you yourself don't attempt to break out of the mould? The coffin was made, but you could have chosen not to lie in it." Suddenly she turned to face him, a newfound courage blossoming from her words. "You blame me for not surrendering, when you could have done the same. I know you were watching from the corner, but I saw it in your eyes – I saw that you were frightened. But so was I. So was Harry, and Ron. Ginny. Neville. Luna. All of us. We are no different from you, Malfoy. We all had choices to make."
"Choices that didn't have to affect–"
"Our lives? Our families? Dare you say it?"
Malfoy fell silent, his lips trembling.
"You chose not to identify me back then. You could have taken the easy way out and just said my name. But you didn't. You struggled. Malfoy, you are a paradox. But that only proves that you're human. That only proves that underneath it all, you're just like–"
"I'm not like the rest of you," he cut in, his whisper so tender that it made her heart ache. "I'm not like y–"
She instinctively turned to see what had interrupted him, only to see that he was looking at her left hand, where red lines were sketched down her knuckles and fingers. Every nerve in her body began to tingle as his warm, callused fingers reached out to touch hers, to turn her palm facing upwards. His index finger gently brushed away some of the blood trails and crusty bits as he stared intently at her hand.
Her breath caught in her throat as she watched his fingers on hers. She knew what he was thinking. Mixed emotions were bubbling in her as he held her hand more firmly, this time, his thumb brushing across her palm. A sharp pain shot up her arm, but she remained steadily looking at her palm.
I hope you see how red it is. How deep and bright the red is. We're not that different.
Suddenly, he let her hand go, and she immediately dropped it to her back, out of his sight.
"Let's..." she took a deep breath, "figure out how to deal with the Antimagic."
He didn't respond. She pressed her palm against the ice wall, but the cold only served to aggravate her pain, and she winced.
"Why doesn't it work?" she muttered under her breath.
"Afraid, aren't you?"
"Yes," she replied, honestly.
He laughed bitterly. "Finally, Granger. Starting to crumble, eh? Well then, it's true that I've coveted that," he pointed at the artifact, "for a long time. Ever since my father mentioned it, it has been in my thoughts whenever I wanted something so badly. But Antimagic is a mystery – some say it can reverse magic, some say it consumes it. The way your blood reacted to it meant that it embraced non-magic. But yet you cannot go through this wall. It's an enigmatic form of magic that depends on who utilises its power."
"I'm not afraid that you could become so powerful because of it. I'm afraid you'll never be able to turn back."
"What do you mean by that?" Malfoy asked, tersely.
Hermione thought the spells and charms in her head, but she could not produce wandless magic. She was getting frustrated and was almost contemplating using her useless wand to hack at the ice out of sheer desperation when suddenly, Malfoy grabbed hold of her shoulders once again and shook her hard. "I said, what do you mean by that?"
"What's with you – and – violence?" Hermione tried to push him off, but he clung on so tightly that her shoulder caps began to hurt. She tried to kick him, but it was like kicking a rock; her knee capitulated from the effect, and she swung to the side to avoid overbalancing.
"Argh, tell me–"
"Malfoy, get off–" She tried to kick him again, but ended up stumbling.
Hermione's head hit against the ice, and she gasped in pain. She thought she was going to faint again, only to see that Malfoy was staring hard at her hand once again – this time, the right one. She was about to yell at him for manhandling her, when her eyes followed his gaze, and her jaw literally dropped open to see that her wand was halfway through the ice wall.
Malfoy instantly let her go, and she fell hard on the ground. But even as her wand went downwards with her hand, it still remained able to penetrate the ice.
"I don't understand," said Hermione, shakily. "I don't–"
Malfoy placed his wand against the ice wall. Slowly, the wand pierced through the wall without a single crack in the ice. His hand, however, like Hermione's, could not go through the wall.
"That doesn't–"
"Granger, it doesn't have to make sense," said Malfoy, slowly. "Now, all that is left to do is–"
"No!" Hermione shouted, wildly. Her wand swung towards Malfoy's in the midst of the Antimagic. "I won't let you do it!"
"Granger, you're a – AHH!"
His wand had snapped towards Hermione's, clearly not out of his own will, for he was staring incredulously at his hand.
"Granger, what the hell did you do?"
"I didn't do anything!"
"You know wandless magic!" Malfoy cried, his eyes wide with fury.
"No, I don't!" screamed Hermione. She was feeling a strong pull towards Malfoy's wand now, and she tried to pull back, but couldn't. She tugged hard, but nearly lost grip of her wand. Small sparks flew out of their wand and crackled in the Antimagic.
"Towards the artifact!" yelled Malfoy.
"What?"
"Get your wand to point at the artifact!"
"I'm not going to let you–"
"Damn it, Granger, DESTROY THE BLOODY THING!"
Hermione stared at him in disbelief. There it was, sitting in front of him after he had admitted to coveting it for so long, and he wanted her to destroy it along with him? Was this for real?
"Malfoy–"
The moment she spoke, she found the pull of her wand too strong to resist – it was pulling her closer and closer to Malfoy, and he was experiencing the same attracting force. Her shoes scrabbled against the ground as she tried to pull back once more, but ended up half-stumbling again.
"I can't–"
"Pull harder, damn it!"
"Can't you see that I'm–"
"Arrrrghhhh!"
"Why – are you destroying it?" she managed to yell out.
"It's – just like you being a Mudblood doesn't mean you're not – ahhhh!"
What Malfoy really wanted to tell her she didn't know, for it was so strenuous trying to yank her wand away. She was beginning to pant; it was like playing tug-of-war with her wand, but every second only pushed her closer to him. It was not long before she realised she could feel Malfoy's heavy breaths against her hair. Still, they were attempting to pull their wands apart.
"Granger, HARDER!"
She wasn't as strong as Malfoy. It was she who eventually lost the fight with her wand. The moment her grip slackened, the wood snapped straight towards Malfoy's, and the effect of the two wand tips colliding, hawthorn against vine, was instantaneous.
A loud crackle preceded a shower of green and red sparks from their wands, followed by silver ones, then a larger burst of green and red again. Hermione watched in amazement as the sparks got bigger and bigger, the crackling getting louder and louder. Tingles were running down her arm with every burst of sparks from her wand.
Grey clouds of mist began to form amidst the orange and red matter within the Antimagic.
"Oh no..." Malfoy's breath against her ear made her shudder.
It was then that she realised that the sparks were catching onto the orange-red clouds floating about. The green and red sparks lined the clouds, growing more furiously by the second.
"RUN!" Malfoy's arm had circled her waist without her knowing, and she felt a sudden force jerk her backwards, pulling them and their wands out of the ice. The clouds were beginning to crackle as well, and the artifact was fading from sight with all the mist emitting from the sparks. Hermione felt her mind in a whirl, but Malfoy had already released her waist, and grabbed her hand instead to pull her away from there. In a flash, they were running away, through the maze of vaults. The Sapphiris Stones on the ceiling burst unexpectedly into blue flames, narrowly missing them as they ran through the vaults. Hermione instinctively pointed her wand at the flames and yelled, "Aguamenti!" which doused the blue fire with a jet of water. Before she could comprehend that her wand was finally working, Malfoy had yanked her along further, swearing profusely under his breath. Just as they reached the wall towards the basement, and Malfoy had swiped his right fist against the wall, there was an earth-shattering explosion that made both of them cower. A roaring sound followed, and Malfoy grew terribly anxious, banging hard against the wall. The moment the door appeared, he flung it open and dragged Hermione through it.
It was the basement, but Hermione couldn't think anymore. The huge roar of wind and fire was getting closer, and she could almost feel the heat billow through the door. Malfoy's right fist was covered with trails of blood by the time he swiped the wall a second time, and she almost screamed, but he was pulling her through the door once again. There was another smashing sound, and Hermione knew that the fire had consumed even the stone walls of the basement.
"Granger, come on!" Malfoy urged, as her legs were beginning to slow down. She gathered up all her remaining strength to run back down the corridors, and finally, they reached the flight of stone steps. The heat was unbearable by now, with streams of perspiration flooding her vision. Her entire body was painful and sore, and she could barely catch her breath. She didn't exactly know how she made it to the top of the stairs, but just as Malfoy opened the catch, a huge ball of heat blew them both straight out of the ground. The last thing Hermione saw was Malfoy hitting the ground before her, followed by a riot of colours that she later knew was the carpet of the Malfoy Manor's study, but it all soon faded into a mass of black.
-.-.-.-.-
"Look, her eyes are moving! Quick, Ron, get the Healer!"
She blinked rapidly. Some shadows were moving above her, making her nervous. Her eyelids fluttered again, and finally she could see a hint of light and colour. Another flutter, and Harry's face came into focus.
"Merlin, Hermione," Harry said, full of relief. "How're you feeling?"
She attempted to sit up, but her bones and muscles were aching so badly that she sank back into the soft sheets once again. Harry helped her fluff up her pillow, before Ron barged into the room with another man. Relief was written all over Ron's face, while the strange man came towards her and pointed his wand at her. Her instinctive reaction was to jerk, and immediately, Harry clutched her hand. She flinched, but when she held up her hand, and Harry let go of it in surprise, she saw that there was no cut there anymore. There was a lingering touch, but instead of Harry, Malfoy's face floated into her mind.
"Where's Malfoy?" she whispered.
Harry looked at Ron, who frowned. "Are you joking, Hermione? You've been out cold for a day, and the first thing you do when you wake up, is to ask for that ferret?"
Hermione squeezed out a weak smile. "Well, he did save my life."
Ron snorted. "He's f-i-n-e. Unfortunately."
"Ron."
"What?"
"Are you okay?" Harry looked at her.
Hermione's smile widened. "Quite fine." As she said that, a sharp pain shot up her elbow, and she tried not to wince too obviously. Strangely enough, she wasn't overly concerned about the pain. Instead, she realised that it was the first time she had woken up only feeling pain in her body and not her head. She hadn't had those nightmares. All she had dreamt of was – she felt a deep heat rise up her neck once again, and clamped on it instinctively.
Harry chuckled and shook his head.
Hermione's smile faded as the previous day's events came flooding back to her. "So – so did you guys–"
Harry's expression turned more severe. "Hermione, you should have known better than to approach this yourself, really. Ron and I were so worried for you."
"Harry–"
"Narcissa Malfoy found the two of you unconscious in the study, so she alerted the Ministry about you. We found a blackened hole in the vaults, and the basement was pretty much charred too. Would you like to explain?"
Hermione put on a thoughtful, almost sorrowful look. "Well. That's quite a long story, you know..."
-.-.-.-.-
The ward was so filled with light the whole day that Hermione found it somewhat strange compared to all the darkness she had been submerged in for the last day or so. Harry and Ron made her smile, and she chuckled inwardly to see their expressions when she told them of her adventure. Ron was quite inclined to stalk over to Malfoy's ward to hex him into oblivion, but thankfully, his attempt was interrupted by a Ministry employee's visit to hand over her wand, which had been examined to be fully repaired. She had spent the rest of the day examining her wand and flicking it to lift and conjure, her heart heaving a sigh of relief as the stunts were performed to a T. There were no more sparks, though, and she scolded herself for even wishing to see them once more.
When Harry and Ron had left, she idly flicked the curtains up and down, her door open and shut, and found herself incredibly bored. The Healer insisted that she had to stay one more day, and truth to speak, she was still very weak. But being Hermione Granger, being stuck in bed was just not–
"OW!" She had flicked her wand too hard, and the door had hit someone.
"Oh my god, I'm so–" She sat up despite the pain, only to stare hard as Malfoy swung the door open, his hand on his forehead, his eyes glaring at her furiously. "Oh, it's you."
"No shit, Granger. Were you the one who said I was into violence?"
She cracked a slight smile as he came over to sit down, rubbing his forehead vigorously, never keeping his glare off her. She waited till his glare softened, and finally he ran a hand through his blond hair.
"At least you're not dead."
"Thank you."
He flinched. She wondered how many times, if ever, had he heard those two words.
"Well, you pulled me out in time," she said, as though desperately hoping he would understand.
"Could have been faster, if you hadn't decided to turn into a zombie then."
She scowled. "Didn't you think about what had happened?"
"No, I was busy thinking about saving my arse. And my reputation. But I figure the news headline about ex-Death Eater and War Heroine still stays the same." He was smirking now. "So, did Potter and Weasley spend the time talking about all the spells and hexes they could practise on me?"
"Ugh, you're disgustingly egoistic. You're lucky that the Ministry has decided not to prosecute you for harbouring Dark magic in the vaults."
"Well, technically, I didn't really know it existed."
"So I told them."
He stared at her keenly, till she got quite disconcerted and attempted to change the topic.
"How did our wands get through the ice wall?"
He leant back against the chair, rolling his eyes and obviously telling her he didn't care.
"Honestly," Hermione frowned, "my blood couldn't get us past. But my wand could? It wasn't even part of me. I mean, they say the wand chooses a person, but… unless the Antimagic was trying to goad us into being influenced by its power. I hear a lot of Dark magic can sense life. It sensed us, and wanted us to attempt to use it."
Her eyes began to shine. "But then, our wands were malfunctioning! When they entered the space, the Antimagic must have reversed their properties and ended up repairing them! As for why our wands met..."
"Because I'm irresistible, Granger."
"Yours was also attracted to mine."
He threw her a sour look.
"Or perhaps it sensed that we were out to destroy the artifact, so it tried to get us to destroy each other instead! But because our wands didn't work, they only ended up creating sparks, which snowballed into that explosion. Yes, yes I think that would make the most sense. Except...
"Except what, Granger?" Malfoy drawled.
"I don't understand why it's called Antimagic."
"Simply because it goes against everything that witches and wizards believed – Muggles may believe magic is spontaneous and uncontrollable, but us," he raised an eyebrow at her, "we believe that magic has a cause-and-effect mechanism; action and reaction."
Hermione almost wanted to giggle – to think he was comparing magic to Muggle physics!
Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her, and she stifled her laugh. "All the magic we do is our creation, someone's creation. Effect after effect, but there's always a cause. Antimagic defies the laws of magic by going against whatever the user wants. Or just creating havoc in general. It bursts out of nowhere, overturns all your predictions, and makes you do things against your will. You challenged the Antimagic's boundaries by defying its laws when you gave it your blood, but it was smarter. It was created to have a life of its own, and it would spiral out of control even for its creator."
Hermione shuddered. "I'm glad we got rid of it."
His expression turned a little darker.
She bit her lip. "Malfoy, I'm sorry I doubted you."
"Don't say sorry," he almost snarled. "First thank you, then sorry." He got up, ready to leave.
Her hand shot out before she could stop herself. His wrist was warm, an erratic beat beneath her thumb as she pressed down. Malfoy was looking at her, but not in incredulity. Rather, his look was questioning.
"If you didn't have the intent to destroy it, the effect of our wands might have been different, and you know, if–" She was rambling again and flushing hot red at the same time. Merlin, what was she talking about?
Malfoy smirked, then to her surprise, he grabbed her hand and flipped it over, revealing her palm. His finger traced the invisible scar, sending all-too-familiar tingles through her nerves. Then he looked at her intently.
"Bloody pedant, Granger. You won't change. Always need some theories to justify things, make them logical, rational. Always need some kind of linearity in your life – a beginning, an end, a new beginning. Can't have any outlying statistic."
It was when she looked into his eyes that she realised what he meant. He was the outlier, the one away from the y=x line she clung steadfastly to in academics, in work, in life. When she thought he was still the prejudiced kid of Hogwarts, he displayed a sense of maturity through his emotions that she never thought his cold, hard face could ever show. When she accused him of all that he had done, he made her realise she was no saint herself, and that he was only human. When she thought he was the most revolting, disgusting jerk for watching from the side, she was momentarily stunned by the heat in her body whenever he looked at her or touched her. He had started out wanting to break her, but ended up saving her. He had used her, and yet she remembered the genuine fear in his voice when he tried to provoke her from entering the basement. From those few hours in his house, down in the basement that terrified the living daylights out of her, and in the vaults where she was helpless in the face of a powerful magic, an ex-Death Eater... he had completely overturned all logic that she had grown up to believe in.
There was only a tiny bubble of curiosity, a tiny one really, that wondered if she had any effect on him during those few hours.
"Sometimes," he took a deep breath, "some things never really have an end. But the new beginning happens all the same."
"You sure have an unconventional way of apologising."
He looked away. "I don't think we'd ever erase those memories."
"No," Hermione said, still staring at his hand holding hers. "But I think – I think I might just be getting over it."
This time, he did hesitate, before he whispered, "Stupid, brave little Gryffindor?"
She looked at him, flinching ever so slightly. Then she shrugged. "Always have been one." She paused for a while, before she cocked her head to the side. "By the way, you were talking about some theory about me being a, you know, Muggle-born. Something like 'just because you are a Muggle-born doesn't mean...'?"
He scoffed. "Are you asking me to pay you compliments?"
She couldn't resist giving him a grin.
Malfoy leant over her, and her whole body was ringing. Then he smiled too, that crooked smile that no longer felt sinister, but strangely enough, of a friendly mocking. "So, I take it that you're still up for that good old English tea, Granger?"
FINE.
A/N: The reader may find certain things left hanging or vague, but it was intentionally done so because I stressed more on the characterisation for this story (not to mention a pressing deadline to hand it in!). The rest is up to whether you believe in Hermione's theories, or that you have your own. Thank you for reading!