Bound
By: Angel Of Music
Spoilers: Books 1-4
Chapter One: The Darkness
I have never been beautiful. Never free, never perfect. I strive for innocence and with it, guilt reigns. I have been deceived, conquered, dominated. I've always been alone. Solitude never seems to bond with friendship, but for me it somehow has.
I've never believed in luck. Sure, things come along right some days, but- I don't know. I've never thought luck could be real. Instinct.
Am I lucky for finding what I did? Have I found a miracle? Immorality. I am alone again.
***
She had always been defined as a "funny" girl, that Hermione Granger. When she passed strangers in the corridors, they'd sometimes grin and stifle laughter. Some would stare awkwardly until she was gone from view. Some would blatantly point at her intellectual demeanor. She'd grown quite used to the strange looks and behaviors, of course. It was perfectly normal. That is to say, if she were like the- others,- she'd think of a person such as herself as humorous too. Ragged, sandy hair that never looked as if brushed, large armfuls of highly difficult books, blank brown eyes; it was no wonder people sniggered as she passed. Hermione was sparsely considered attractive: her face did not hold a reflection of what she displayed inside. She was warm-hearted, friendly, and good-intentioned, the three very manifest qualities of a Gryffindor. But little did she know that because of this cordial personality, her life was about to change.
She was a gangly sixteen-year-old when she realized who she really was. And the most unexpected of people had helped her bring out her obscure self. So I shall begin where all stories begin: Once upon a time, there was a girl...
Hermione Granger paced deliriously down the second floor corridor that led to the library in Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. Early to her studies again, and she was still in a rush. Papers to finish, Arithmancy homework to complete- it was a very busy day. She arrived in the hushed study, and within moments, found herself entwined in an odd book that she was sure she'd never read. *Strange,* She thought, asphyxiating a look of wonder. *I was sure I'd read every book in the 'Dark Arts Defense' section.* She shrugged it off and unwillingly threw the book aside, deciding to check it out with the librarian, Madame Pince, when she completed her studies. She was happy that she was alone for once, something that one would never believe could be true, but obtaining a break from her friends was a relief. They, though she cared about Harry and Ron very much, were sure to distract her with notions that copying homework from her would help them learn.
"Rubbish." She mumbled, a grin itching at her lips. At once, she opened her Arithmancy book and began her homework. Though Hermione was scholarly, she was ridden with guilt when she glanced up at the clock floating without support above the arched library doorway, and noted that she'd been studying for two hours. "7:15." She mumbled, immediately shutting the book she'd been reading. She was supposed to be in the common room by 7:00 to celebrate the winning of Harry's first quidditch match. She placed her fingers over her slightly ajar lips in a curt yawn, then went to check out a stack of books with Madame Pince.
***
"You missed a great 20 minutes, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, throwing his freckled arms into the air. "Honestly, where were you?"
"Down in the library." She exclaimed with a bow of her head. "Research for the Transfiguration project. You should've come-"
"Nonsense, Hermione!" Harry retorted, frowning. "It's not due until the end of Christmas break."
"Yeah," Agreed Ron, his citrus hair bouncing in an energetic nod. "We've been celebrating, and stuff. You know, you should've been there when we got the pastries from the kitchen-"
"Ron," Hermione began doubtfully. But both Harry and Ron could see that she had a small grin formulating on her face.
"C'mon and have some pumpkin juice with us." The rest of the night was very enjoyable, and though it did consist of breaking a few house rules, Hermione had fun nonetheless.
At 11:00 that evening, she climbed the steps to her dorm slowly. It had been a wonderful evening, she concluded. But something was itching at her brain. Ah, yes! Her project for professor McGonagall! She hadn't finished it yet, and though she still had more than a month to do it, she was worried. So, she turned straight around and stumbled back down the staircase. "Harry!" She whispered, penetrating the silence with the quality of her whisper.
"Yeah?" He answered, feeling for her. The room was so dark that their vision was blurred.
"Over here," She responded, beckoning him with her hand.
"What is it, Hermione?"
"I was...I was wondering if I could borrow your invisibility cloak? For the project." Harry, understanding how studious his friend was, nodded and told her to stay put. He returned but moments later with it in his trembling hands. "Thanks Harry." She said, smiling. "I won't lose it, or anything."
"I trust you." He promised. He then went back up to his dorm without another word. Hermione, who was determined to finish her project, slid it on and quietly slipped out of the dorm.
She came along with little troubles along the way, which was a relief. When she found herself in the library again, she was happy to see that even though she was, well, quite frankly breaking rules, she had the whole library to explore. But remembering the warning Harry had given her, she dared not to go to the restricted section. She pulled out a book entitled "Transmogrifying for Transmogrifiers," and flipped through the pages.
"This'll be perfect." She whispered, glancing quickly at the detailed information that the book had in it. After she had gotten out her parchment and quill, a scratching noise in the corner of the library brought her to her senses. Alarmed, she stood to investigate. "Could be one of the ghosts," She began, trying to calm herself. After a moment, the scratching ceased. Hermione paused in mid-step to see if she was missing something. After a moment, she swiveled around again to go and work on the project, when the scratching commenced once more.
"Whose...Whose there?" She whispered softly. The scratching abruptly halted. Frightened now, but indescribably curious, she took another step further and furtively listened for some sign of the noise-maker. The scratching began again, now quite obviously coming from the invisibility section. Hermione quietly wound her way around the bookshelves, peering through slots in the books to see if she could get a closer look. And then she spotted it- Malfoy. He was tapping his foot quickly, emitting the scratching sound. *Perfect,* Hermione thought, wondering why he was there. *Just what I need.*
For the pleasure and sheer thought of getting Malfoy on something, she stayed dormant to watch him. He sat upon the floor after a moment, and drew something out from the inside of his cloak. It hit a dim light fixture and shone softly, revealing itself. A dagger. It was quite attractive and elegant, with rubies upon the handle and the figure of a serpant welded into the smooth pewter. Draco pulled it backward, then swung it down. It was just about to tear the skin upon his shoulder when Hermione jumped out.
"Stop!" She demanded, grabbing the dagger from him. Draco hadn't even known what hit him. "What were you trying to do!?" She whispered harshly, waving the weapon at him. Draco shook his head and swiped for it.
"Give that back, Granger, you don't want to put an eye out."
"I would first like to know what you were doing." He glared at her, then stood.
"You wouldn't understand. It's too complicated for a filthy mudblood such as yourself. Just hand me the dagger, now."
"No. You were trying to kill yourself back there, weren't you?"
"And what's it to you? Would you have cared what I did? It's none of your business."
"It's all of my business, Malfoy. I demand to know." Draco stared at her and motioned for her to give him back the knife. She refused and pocketed it. "There." She said, satisfied. "Unless you want to fish it out, you can't have it." He gave her a scornful gaze and then collected his robes in his hands.
"Why would you want to save my life, Granger? Scared they'd accuse you? Too much of a motive, if you ask me."
"What I don't understand, Malfoy, is why you'd do such a thing. Dumbledore might be thrown out if you'd even-"
"You think by no you'd be witty enough, Granger, to see that I could care a dung beetle less what happens to Dumbledore. He's a no good man who doesn't appreciate a pure blood when he sees one."
"He appreciates plenty a pure blood." Hermione corrected, frowning. "Your just jealous because you're not one of them."
"How dare you say such a thing to me!" He barked, flinging his arms into the air. "I could gain respect from that piteous, muggle loving man if I wished. But why would I want to do that, Granger?"
"I'm sure you wouldn't." She retorted curtly, detesting the words that Draco was throwing at her.
"Well, I'm sure that I would like my dagger back. Now hand it over."
"I may hate you, Malfoy, but I cannot let you kill yourself." She exclaimed matter-of-factly, as if not talking about such a morbid issue as death. "You don't want to die." She began slowly, trying to remember why she was saying this to him. "There's a lot to live for, if you can believe it. Like books, and friends, and fun. I don't know what your definition of fun is, but... What I mean to say is, even if you are jeering at me, it pleases you doesn't it? Well, there you have it." Hermione recalled that Halloween evening in her first year that she had contemplated killing herself in her agony. It had been pointed out to her that she had had no friends. It was true at the time, but then Harry and Ron had come along and changed that. Now she had so much to live for.
Draco snorted. "You are a filthy little no blood, and I shall never take advice from you." Hermione shook her head and retorted,
"Maybe not, but I shall keep giving advice in blind thought that you will someday understand that I'm not all bad." Malfoy stood staring, then began to laugh.
"Not all bad? You are a dirty, nasty, sickening, disgusting, putrid mudblood, and that basically qualifies as all bad." Hermione buried her head in her hands.
"I should have know this would be worthless." She began. "I was stupid to think that I could convince you otherwise." Draco spat and grabbed for her pocket, but Hermione backed away on her foot.
"Get off." She defended weakly. She then turned swiftly around and strode away. But before she reached the door, she heard Draco softly say,
"If you tell anyone about this, Granger, I'll personally see to it that I wring your neck."
* * *
She longed to tell Harry and Ron, but there was something that told her not to. At first she thought it was in fear, but later she realized otherwise. She was not afraid of Malfoy. He couldn't hurt her, and even if he tried, she'd be able to defend herself. There was something that held her back, though she could not figure for the life of her what it was. She held to the word that she had never given, and it horrified her that she was doing Malfoy a favor. She despised his very presence, and his request had bound her to her better judgment. It would have probably been a good idea to inform professor Dumbledore of Draco's strange behavior. She wanted to do the best of things for everyone, yet it scared her that she was keeping this important word from being spread.
It wasn't that she felt bad for Malfoy, or anything of the sort. It was simply that she was stuck to her honesty like a vat of molasses, and therefore thought it best to tell no one what she saw. For she had seen something very strange indeed, and it haunted her dreams each night she slept. *What would have happened if I wasn't there?* He would have died. DIED. Hermione tried to imagine life without Malfoy. It would be glorious and free, knowing that an insult would never be heaved at her again, but somehow oddly morbid. Scary, even. If he had been dead.
Hermione groaned and rolled over in bed. She awoke, sat up slowly and rubbed her eyes. What time was it? She glanced over at the clock upon the wall and sighed when she noted that she had 3 hours left until she was expected at breakfast. With a quick, sideward glance, she arose and grabbed the book she had previously checked out, and made her way toward the common room.
The fire, which seemed to never die, crackled happily as she entered as if welcoming her. Tightening her robes around her body, she sat upon a massive arm chair and cuddled up with her book.
CHAPTER ONE, She read carefully, inspecting the intricate border around the pages.
DUEL AND DEBT. Hermione continued to read thoughtfully, her eyes fixated on the words before her. She was just about to close the book and head back upstairs, when a phrase caught her eye. "It is a commonly known fact that in the wizarding world, when one wizard or witch saves another's life, they are forever in debt to him or her. They must, no matter what, before they die, pay them back for the deed that they have done." Hermione's fingers fell upon her parted lips, and she emitted an inaudible gasp as her book fell to the floor in a penetrating clatter.
* * *
By: Angel Of Music
Spoilers: Books 1-4
Chapter One: The Darkness
I have never been beautiful. Never free, never perfect. I strive for innocence and with it, guilt reigns. I have been deceived, conquered, dominated. I've always been alone. Solitude never seems to bond with friendship, but for me it somehow has.
I've never believed in luck. Sure, things come along right some days, but- I don't know. I've never thought luck could be real. Instinct.
Am I lucky for finding what I did? Have I found a miracle? Immorality. I am alone again.
***
She had always been defined as a "funny" girl, that Hermione Granger. When she passed strangers in the corridors, they'd sometimes grin and stifle laughter. Some would stare awkwardly until she was gone from view. Some would blatantly point at her intellectual demeanor. She'd grown quite used to the strange looks and behaviors, of course. It was perfectly normal. That is to say, if she were like the- others,- she'd think of a person such as herself as humorous too. Ragged, sandy hair that never looked as if brushed, large armfuls of highly difficult books, blank brown eyes; it was no wonder people sniggered as she passed. Hermione was sparsely considered attractive: her face did not hold a reflection of what she displayed inside. She was warm-hearted, friendly, and good-intentioned, the three very manifest qualities of a Gryffindor. But little did she know that because of this cordial personality, her life was about to change.
She was a gangly sixteen-year-old when she realized who she really was. And the most unexpected of people had helped her bring out her obscure self. So I shall begin where all stories begin: Once upon a time, there was a girl...
Hermione Granger paced deliriously down the second floor corridor that led to the library in Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. Early to her studies again, and she was still in a rush. Papers to finish, Arithmancy homework to complete- it was a very busy day. She arrived in the hushed study, and within moments, found herself entwined in an odd book that she was sure she'd never read. *Strange,* She thought, asphyxiating a look of wonder. *I was sure I'd read every book in the 'Dark Arts Defense' section.* She shrugged it off and unwillingly threw the book aside, deciding to check it out with the librarian, Madame Pince, when she completed her studies. She was happy that she was alone for once, something that one would never believe could be true, but obtaining a break from her friends was a relief. They, though she cared about Harry and Ron very much, were sure to distract her with notions that copying homework from her would help them learn.
"Rubbish." She mumbled, a grin itching at her lips. At once, she opened her Arithmancy book and began her homework. Though Hermione was scholarly, she was ridden with guilt when she glanced up at the clock floating without support above the arched library doorway, and noted that she'd been studying for two hours. "7:15." She mumbled, immediately shutting the book she'd been reading. She was supposed to be in the common room by 7:00 to celebrate the winning of Harry's first quidditch match. She placed her fingers over her slightly ajar lips in a curt yawn, then went to check out a stack of books with Madame Pince.
***
"You missed a great 20 minutes, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, throwing his freckled arms into the air. "Honestly, where were you?"
"Down in the library." She exclaimed with a bow of her head. "Research for the Transfiguration project. You should've come-"
"Nonsense, Hermione!" Harry retorted, frowning. "It's not due until the end of Christmas break."
"Yeah," Agreed Ron, his citrus hair bouncing in an energetic nod. "We've been celebrating, and stuff. You know, you should've been there when we got the pastries from the kitchen-"
"Ron," Hermione began doubtfully. But both Harry and Ron could see that she had a small grin formulating on her face.
"C'mon and have some pumpkin juice with us." The rest of the night was very enjoyable, and though it did consist of breaking a few house rules, Hermione had fun nonetheless.
At 11:00 that evening, she climbed the steps to her dorm slowly. It had been a wonderful evening, she concluded. But something was itching at her brain. Ah, yes! Her project for professor McGonagall! She hadn't finished it yet, and though she still had more than a month to do it, she was worried. So, she turned straight around and stumbled back down the staircase. "Harry!" She whispered, penetrating the silence with the quality of her whisper.
"Yeah?" He answered, feeling for her. The room was so dark that their vision was blurred.
"Over here," She responded, beckoning him with her hand.
"What is it, Hermione?"
"I was...I was wondering if I could borrow your invisibility cloak? For the project." Harry, understanding how studious his friend was, nodded and told her to stay put. He returned but moments later with it in his trembling hands. "Thanks Harry." She said, smiling. "I won't lose it, or anything."
"I trust you." He promised. He then went back up to his dorm without another word. Hermione, who was determined to finish her project, slid it on and quietly slipped out of the dorm.
She came along with little troubles along the way, which was a relief. When she found herself in the library again, she was happy to see that even though she was, well, quite frankly breaking rules, she had the whole library to explore. But remembering the warning Harry had given her, she dared not to go to the restricted section. She pulled out a book entitled "Transmogrifying for Transmogrifiers," and flipped through the pages.
"This'll be perfect." She whispered, glancing quickly at the detailed information that the book had in it. After she had gotten out her parchment and quill, a scratching noise in the corner of the library brought her to her senses. Alarmed, she stood to investigate. "Could be one of the ghosts," She began, trying to calm herself. After a moment, the scratching ceased. Hermione paused in mid-step to see if she was missing something. After a moment, she swiveled around again to go and work on the project, when the scratching commenced once more.
"Whose...Whose there?" She whispered softly. The scratching abruptly halted. Frightened now, but indescribably curious, she took another step further and furtively listened for some sign of the noise-maker. The scratching began again, now quite obviously coming from the invisibility section. Hermione quietly wound her way around the bookshelves, peering through slots in the books to see if she could get a closer look. And then she spotted it- Malfoy. He was tapping his foot quickly, emitting the scratching sound. *Perfect,* Hermione thought, wondering why he was there. *Just what I need.*
For the pleasure and sheer thought of getting Malfoy on something, she stayed dormant to watch him. He sat upon the floor after a moment, and drew something out from the inside of his cloak. It hit a dim light fixture and shone softly, revealing itself. A dagger. It was quite attractive and elegant, with rubies upon the handle and the figure of a serpant welded into the smooth pewter. Draco pulled it backward, then swung it down. It was just about to tear the skin upon his shoulder when Hermione jumped out.
"Stop!" She demanded, grabbing the dagger from him. Draco hadn't even known what hit him. "What were you trying to do!?" She whispered harshly, waving the weapon at him. Draco shook his head and swiped for it.
"Give that back, Granger, you don't want to put an eye out."
"I would first like to know what you were doing." He glared at her, then stood.
"You wouldn't understand. It's too complicated for a filthy mudblood such as yourself. Just hand me the dagger, now."
"No. You were trying to kill yourself back there, weren't you?"
"And what's it to you? Would you have cared what I did? It's none of your business."
"It's all of my business, Malfoy. I demand to know." Draco stared at her and motioned for her to give him back the knife. She refused and pocketed it. "There." She said, satisfied. "Unless you want to fish it out, you can't have it." He gave her a scornful gaze and then collected his robes in his hands.
"Why would you want to save my life, Granger? Scared they'd accuse you? Too much of a motive, if you ask me."
"What I don't understand, Malfoy, is why you'd do such a thing. Dumbledore might be thrown out if you'd even-"
"You think by no you'd be witty enough, Granger, to see that I could care a dung beetle less what happens to Dumbledore. He's a no good man who doesn't appreciate a pure blood when he sees one."
"He appreciates plenty a pure blood." Hermione corrected, frowning. "Your just jealous because you're not one of them."
"How dare you say such a thing to me!" He barked, flinging his arms into the air. "I could gain respect from that piteous, muggle loving man if I wished. But why would I want to do that, Granger?"
"I'm sure you wouldn't." She retorted curtly, detesting the words that Draco was throwing at her.
"Well, I'm sure that I would like my dagger back. Now hand it over."
"I may hate you, Malfoy, but I cannot let you kill yourself." She exclaimed matter-of-factly, as if not talking about such a morbid issue as death. "You don't want to die." She began slowly, trying to remember why she was saying this to him. "There's a lot to live for, if you can believe it. Like books, and friends, and fun. I don't know what your definition of fun is, but... What I mean to say is, even if you are jeering at me, it pleases you doesn't it? Well, there you have it." Hermione recalled that Halloween evening in her first year that she had contemplated killing herself in her agony. It had been pointed out to her that she had had no friends. It was true at the time, but then Harry and Ron had come along and changed that. Now she had so much to live for.
Draco snorted. "You are a filthy little no blood, and I shall never take advice from you." Hermione shook her head and retorted,
"Maybe not, but I shall keep giving advice in blind thought that you will someday understand that I'm not all bad." Malfoy stood staring, then began to laugh.
"Not all bad? You are a dirty, nasty, sickening, disgusting, putrid mudblood, and that basically qualifies as all bad." Hermione buried her head in her hands.
"I should have know this would be worthless." She began. "I was stupid to think that I could convince you otherwise." Draco spat and grabbed for her pocket, but Hermione backed away on her foot.
"Get off." She defended weakly. She then turned swiftly around and strode away. But before she reached the door, she heard Draco softly say,
"If you tell anyone about this, Granger, I'll personally see to it that I wring your neck."
* * *
She longed to tell Harry and Ron, but there was something that told her not to. At first she thought it was in fear, but later she realized otherwise. She was not afraid of Malfoy. He couldn't hurt her, and even if he tried, she'd be able to defend herself. There was something that held her back, though she could not figure for the life of her what it was. She held to the word that she had never given, and it horrified her that she was doing Malfoy a favor. She despised his very presence, and his request had bound her to her better judgment. It would have probably been a good idea to inform professor Dumbledore of Draco's strange behavior. She wanted to do the best of things for everyone, yet it scared her that she was keeping this important word from being spread.
It wasn't that she felt bad for Malfoy, or anything of the sort. It was simply that she was stuck to her honesty like a vat of molasses, and therefore thought it best to tell no one what she saw. For she had seen something very strange indeed, and it haunted her dreams each night she slept. *What would have happened if I wasn't there?* He would have died. DIED. Hermione tried to imagine life without Malfoy. It would be glorious and free, knowing that an insult would never be heaved at her again, but somehow oddly morbid. Scary, even. If he had been dead.
Hermione groaned and rolled over in bed. She awoke, sat up slowly and rubbed her eyes. What time was it? She glanced over at the clock upon the wall and sighed when she noted that she had 3 hours left until she was expected at breakfast. With a quick, sideward glance, she arose and grabbed the book she had previously checked out, and made her way toward the common room.
The fire, which seemed to never die, crackled happily as she entered as if welcoming her. Tightening her robes around her body, she sat upon a massive arm chair and cuddled up with her book.
CHAPTER ONE, She read carefully, inspecting the intricate border around the pages.
DUEL AND DEBT. Hermione continued to read thoughtfully, her eyes fixated on the words before her. She was just about to close the book and head back upstairs, when a phrase caught her eye. "It is a commonly known fact that in the wizarding world, when one wizard or witch saves another's life, they are forever in debt to him or her. They must, no matter what, before they die, pay them back for the deed that they have done." Hermione's fingers fell upon her parted lips, and she emitted an inaudible gasp as her book fell to the floor in a penetrating clatter.
* * *