Persephone

Professor Granger stood at the enormous double doors staring out at the leaving thestral-drawn carriages. Another year of safety. Another year of peace. Another year of happiness, love, and smiling faces under the pointed hats. Another year of the monotony, thought Hermione, turning away and striding back into the Entrance Hall.

Her face was empty as she rigidly walked down to her office to neaten her things. As happy as she was that the Dark Lord had finally been vanquished, she craved more excitement than just teaching Potions to the bright-eyed students, whose eyes had never been exposed to the hurt and the happiness of war. She remembered sweetly the ecstasy of fighting that war that brought peace, safety, and in her opinion, ennui. She remembered Godric's Hollow. The battle at Azkaban. The showdown at the Riddle House. And, of course, Draco's betrayal of his own lord.

Draco, she thought. He was one of the only war veterans who hadn't returned to Hogwarts to visit and lecture the students. Granted, he had barely returned to the world at all. There had been scattered sightings of him here and there, but never had they been long enough for a cup of tea. Why hadn't he come back to the wizarding world? Was he still ashamed of fighting aside Voldemort? Did he revert back to the dark side? Or was it something else?

Here she was now in the dungeons. They were the same dungeons where she and Draco had squared off against each other at the mercy of the ringmaster Professor Snape. She stood for a moment staring at the cobwebs and dust of the empty dungeon. Hermione wished she had been given a classroom above ground. She longed for the sun to stream into her quarters. She supposed she could whip up some nice light with a charm or something, but she wished only for the real thing. She stepped into her office and froze with surprise.

Had all the thoughts she had about him created the image projected in front of her? Never had her eyes lied to her. There, in the flesh, stood Draco Malfoy. He was fiddling with a small glass figurine of a cat he had found on her desk. It was Crookshanks. He was dressed in muggle clothes. He wore a silky black button down shirt and a pressed pair of black trousers. He looked a tad unkept, but it did look like he had a haircut recently. That patch of blond hair half of Hogwarts would die for in his younger days sat solemnly and smoothly, as if every thin strand was combed to perfection. He had gotten a few inches taller and a few pounds thinner than when she had last seen him years and years ago. He suddenly stared right into Hermione's eyes and into her soul. Then, as if stupefied, she promptly fainted.

Silence. Tranquility. There was a dusty bed in a cobwebbed room. There was a girl laid down by the silver-haired boy. There was a deep slumber that lasted until the next morning.

The drawn curtains revealed the sun to the sleeping girl. The light slipped through the window, silently and untouchable. But though it wasn't palpable, it could easily touch with its shimmering gold fingers. Sun massaged the girl's eyelids until they dreamily slipped apart. A moment later, those eyes were alert.

Hermione looked around, disoriented. Where am I? thought Hermione, Why has Draco taken me here? She rose from the Victorian featherbed and surveyed her surroundings. There sure is a lot of light, thought Hermione, Much more than down in those dungeons. She raised her hand to cover her eyes from the sun streaming through the large window. She could see that the light was casting a giant shadow behind her. Dust was dominant, second only to the sun. Hermione coughed from its presence. She crept across the creaking wood floor to the hardwood door. As soon as she touched the brass knob, she gasped as she heard a cold voice speak from behind her.

"The door's locked." Draco took a step out from behind the fancy crimson drapes. Hermione reached for her wand, but the pocket in her robes was empty. She cursed under her breath as she saw Draco pull out her wand from his pocket. She then closed her eyes and focused as hard as she could on her small flat in London, but nothing happened. "I enchanted this room so you cannot apparate from it." Hermione sighed and shook her head, trying to think of a way to escape the situation. "Can I get you anything?" He asked the question rather smugly, but his tone and face lacked the over-confidence that he had possessed in his Hogwarts years. The tone and question both took Hermione by surprised and she paused, vulnerable for a second, before returning to her defiance.

"I would like you to release me immediately!"

"Come on, just take a short stay with me," Draco replied cleanly. "Please?" The word seemed so serious and so sincere, like a child begging his father for a cookie. Hermione was silent for a moment. "Here, I'll let you ask me anything you want."

"Why did you take me here?" It was the first thing that sprung to her mind. She had let the words slip out before she had been able to replace her stubborn mask.

"I'll tell you the answer later."

"Later?"

"Maybe. Any other questions?"

Hermione was about to say some words that she normally wouldn't say in certain company but decided that she might as well learn as much as she could about her surroundings and her rival so that the information could help her plan her escape should Draco hold her for too long against her will.

"Where am I?"

"You're in the bedroom of the late Mrs. Violet Riddle, the muggle grandmother of the deceased Dark Lord. She lived with her husband in this mansion in Little Hangleton with her husband and her son until the entire family perished mysteriously. I have restored it a bit and hope you enjoy the furnishings. I've always had a slight passion for muggle antique collectables."

Hermione was definitely surprised by his complete and thorough answer. This Draco Malfoy wasn't the Draco Malfoy she knew in Hogwarts or even the Draco Malfoy she had fought along side with at the final battle. He had only aged a few years, but his demeanor had aged far more. His words were calm and precise rather than hateful and jagged. She looked at him and wondered if he saw her any differently. She sighed. I'm probably just that same girl he knew who is holding onto some silly grudge for a boy who was rude to me in school. He helped us. He was on our side. There's no point to hold onto this anymore.

"When do you plan to let me go?"

"One of these days," Draco said with a shrug.

"Draco," she started, "You do realize that this is kidnapping and that you could easily get yourself in a lot of trouble with the Ministry and-"

"It's kidnapping if you're being held without your consent. Are you?"

Hermione opened her mouth to say yes, but realized that it probably wasn't true. She wasn't planning to escape anymore. Now, she wanted to know everything about the ghost that stood before her. Curiosity killed the cat, Hermione thought, rolling her eyes. She hated clichés. They were expressions people used when they couldn't use their own words. But now, she was the one tongue-tied. There's nothing Hermione Granger hates more than not knowing what to say and clichés.

"Give me my wand and it won't be without consent."

"How do I know you won't curse me and run away?"

"You can trust me." Hermione said it truthfully, but she was sure he wouldn't buy it. He stared at her for a moment, gazing straight into her eyes just as he had earlier that day in her office. Though there wasn't any surprise, Hermione still felt faint with those bold yet demulcent and silver eyes piercing her. He must have seen something. He grabbed her wand out of his pocket and tossed it to her. She was almost surprised that he had believed her. She was about to ask him another question but he put his hand up. "No more questions for today. Your stuff is in the dresser. Can I get you anything?" He snickered a bit, coolly and quietly. Hermione sighed. I'll play along. But just for a little while.

"There is a lot of dust in here…" Hermione began, but Draco immediately raised his wand and the dust disappeared. Hermione was in awe. "What charm was that?"

"Thought of it myself," replied Draco, "You need something to get all the dust when you've been hard at work restoring an old mansion." He then turned around and walked out, looking once back at a dumbstruck Hermione before lightly shutting the door behind him.

"You teach Potions? Of all subjects, why Potions?"

"I like Potions!" Hermione defended herself, "Just because Professor Snape didn't like me doesn't mean I wasn't skilled at the subject." It had been about a week since Hermione's arrival. It was time well spent though. Draco always brought her the Daily Prophet and muggle novels for Hermione to read. She wondered how Draco had found out about her love for the classics. He also kept her company, bringing meals and lightly chatting about pretty much everything. Hermione liked to think of it as an all-expenses-paid vacation. She had sunlight, she had warmth, and she even had a nice guy to spend it with. After a few days, she had practically forgotten about all of Draco's deeds before the war. Hermione only saw him as the misunderstood hero and admired him for being one of the few men ever to leave the Death Eaters.

"Surely they wanted you to teach something else, Hermione," Draco replied. Hermione still found it surprising each time he actually referred to her by her first name. She liked the sound of it. "Like Defense Against the Dark Arts or something?"

"Some old retired auror is teaching it, Professor Something-or-other. Don't worry," Hermione caught Draco raise his eyebrows, "He doesn't turn students into ferrets as punishment." The two snickered at the memory. "Potions was the only empty spot after they reopened the school."

"Then why didn't you just do something else? Face it Hermione, those dungeons are so dark and dreary. I know, I was a Slytherin. I had to live down there for six years of my life."

"Well, it's about giving back to the community…"

"Oh, don't give me that crap. You know that you wanted something more. I can tell. You didn't do all of your homework and answer every question right and score highest on every exam to become the new Professor Snape."

"Stop that!" Hermione yelled. Her temper had suddenly risen, but she knew it wasn't really his fault. He spoke the truth. Sometimes, she wondered if Draco could see right through her, straight into the depths of her soul where wishes that she didn't even know herself lurked. Had he mastered Legilimency? No, she knew it couldn't be magic. Maybe he had just developed his instincts. Maybe he had been stalking her.

Or maybe, he just understood her.

Hermione changed the subject, "So what have you been up to anyway? I mean, other than restoring this old house and traveling around the world."

"Well, I've been doing this and that," Draco shrugged. He pushed a wisp of hair out of his eyes and then rested his head between his forefinger and thumb. "I've been on a search, basically. Sort of like Potter's search for the Horcruxes. Except a bit less noble. I've been trying to find cursed items. After all, the Dark Lord must have left behind more than just a few Horcruxes. I found a few things, destroyed them, looked some more, and it goes on and on. That's what most of the traveling was for. In the end, I found myself here, both in search for cursed objects and information about the Dark Lord's past. I found a couple of dark artifacts buried in this house, but after that, I started to notice…I dunno, the beauty of it. It made me wonder if muggles really did have a better life. For them, things must be so simplistic and calm. So, I moved in here and fixed the place up. I've been living sort of a simple life for the past year or two now."

"Didn't you ever…get lonely?"

"Well…you're here now, aren't you?"

Silence followed. Neither person knew exactly what to say. After a few beats, Hermione took the initiative. "Did those dark artifacts…interest you? Like the complex magic? I do hear it's very interesting."

"No, no, no. I've quit. Completely."

Hermione paused for a moment and looked into his eyes. She then looked down at his wrist, covered by his black turtleneck sweater. She wondered if the dark mark was still there.

"Don't you trust me, Hermione?"

She paused. Suddenly, she felt like she could read him just as he could read her. Her voice was no more than a whisper. Her face was no more than a few inches from his.

"I trust you."

They were strolling around the grounds together one day in late July. It had been over a month that Hermione had been living at the Riddle House. Her life was almost muggle-like, as she and Draco only used magic for tasks like heating up water for tea and cleaning things up. Things seemed pretty quiet in the wizarding world too, as the Daily Prophet had begun putting interviews with Ministry junior secretarial assistants on the front page. It was the perfect easy-going summer for Hermione. Best of all was that enormous window in her room which light poured into every morning. It was the highlight of her day, waking up and staring out at the gentle rays of a new day greeting her. She hadn't seen anything like it since before she took up her job in the Hogwarts dungeons, or even in her whole life. There were so many new things to see and learn with Draco Malfoy.

"So you didn't use any magic to get these roses to grow so…beautifully?" Hermione was still stunned by the pure red and lovely scented patches of flowers before her."

"Not even a single spell." Draco replied easily. He seemed to have lost every bit of his swagger, now much more of a calm, modest person. He was the perfect housemate, thought Hermione.

"They're just so…lovely." Hermione closed her eyes and took in the beautiful summer day through her other senses. She could smell the fresh aroma of the trees and flowers (not to mention Malfoy's sweet scent). She could feel the warm breezes rush across her body (not to mention Malfoy's warm hand lightly touching hers). She could hear the birds beckoning each other in harmony to fly about freely (not to mention the sounds of Malfoy's beating heart and deep breaths). She could just taste the lovely day around her. There wasn't anything terribly interesting, but Hermione's life no longer seemed banal and repetitive. She was learning new things, how to add simplicity and happiness to her life. She no longer stood and walked as rigidly, slackening the firm grip she had on her mind and body.

"You've changed a lot since you've been here, Hermione." Draco said quietly.

"I guess so," Hermione smiled, flattered that he had noticed. Harry and Ron never noticed the little things like demeanor. "But it's not like I'm a whole new person. Not like you."

"Yeah," said Draco distantly, "I guess I never really was a person until after I deserted the Dark Lord." He looked off, trying not to catch her eye. Hermione knew that it was a sensitive subject, but she was still so curious. She had to press him.

"Why…why did you join in the first place?"

Draco sighed heavily. It looked like a weight of some sort was sitting on his shoulders. He opened his mouth a few times with no avail before he could finally speak. "I could say that it was my father. I could say that he made me do it, but I know that's not fully true. There's a time in your life when you have to take blame for all your mistakes. You see, the Dark Lord makes promises. Promises of things that you'd never dream of. Fortune, wealth, but most of all, happiness. After all, I didn't really have anybody to talk to, no friends, just a few thugs. I didn't really have much to do but stand around an empty manor. So I joined for the same reason all the other Death Eaters did. I thought I had so little to lose and so little to gain. And once you're in, it's so hard to get out."

Hermione was fascinated. "Why did you leave?"

"Because one night, I suddenly felt like I had been hit in the face. It was the epiphany of all epiphanies. I saw through all of his false promises and I realized that I did have things to lose back when I joined. Things I thought I had already lost. So I turned around and tried to get those things back. It was so hard to break away, but I managed it."

"That's so…brave of you."

Draco smiled. "It's not that brave. It's nothing next to any of Potter's amazing feats." Draco laughed, but didn't really seem happy.

"Not that brave?" Hermione turned to him and grabbed his hand, "It's extremely brave. It's a different kind of brave." With that, she reached her hands behind his neck and pulled him into an embrace. It was the first moment this summer that Hermione found hadn't passed by in the blink of an eye. When they broke apart, they were still holding hands.

"What were those things you wanted to get back anyway?" asked Hermione quietly.

"Bravery. Goodness. Kindness All your Gryffindor things," Draco snickered, "And respect."

"Whose respect?"

Draco paused. "Your respect. Dumbledore's respect. Everybody's respect." Hermione blushed and looked down at the daffodils at her feet.

"Well," said Hermione after a pause, still staring at the ground, "you didn't have my respect in the first place." She looked up to his eyes, marveling the way they glimmered in the sun. "But you have it now."

Draco smiled at her. She suddenly became more aware of his presence. His hand on hers seemed to heat up with burning electricity. She was hit in the heart by an odd jolt she had never felt. It was a message from another heart, traveling through the bones, across hands, and then straight into hers. It contained no words, just pure emotion. It surprised her nearly as much as when she saw him in her office.

She gasped and pulled her gaze and hand away. The two finished their stroll in silence.

The end of August came too quickly for Hermione. She knew that she had to return to Hogwarts a week or two before the school year started to make preparations as a teacher, but she had refrained from telling Draco. She herself tried hard not to think about it either, as she was having one of the best summers of her life, even though she was still very confused when it came to her feelings about Draco.

"Draco," murmured Hermione over dinner.

"Yes?" Draco looked up at Hermione. She just loved that little curious expression he wore whenever she asked him a question. Oh, how she would miss him!

"Well, as you know, the school year is starting soon and," she paused and sighed, "I've had the most wonderful time here. Really. But I do need to get going and return to Hogwarts."

Draco sighed and looked back down at his food. He moved a piece of chicken in circles around the plate and bit his lip. When he looked back up, his face was completely unreadable. "When do you plan to leave?"

"Well," Hermione paused before she told him the worst part, "tonight."

Draco flinched, but kept his face calm. "Fine. Do you need help packing?"

"I don't really have too much stuff to pack so no."

"Okay. I'll see you out."

Hermione cleared her plate with the wave of her wand and made her way upstairs. Halfway up the antique staircase, she stopped, somehow not having the energy to reach the top. The image of the solemn and unreadable Draco returned to her mind and she longed to know his true feelings. He really was beautiful. Throughout her stay, he had never even answered the very first question she had asked him. With a sigh, she looked down at her feet and willed them to take her to her room.

She came downstairs with a small suitcase and saw Draco standing outside the front door. She walked over, put her bag down and looked at him.

"Well…goodbye," said Draco with a shrug.

"That's it? Goodbye?" Hermione shook her head.

"What do you want?"

"More than that."

"What?"

"Why did you take me here in the first place?"

Draco's expression finally changed from the cool unforgiving one. He suddenly looked vulnerable. He seemed to be looking over Hermione's shoulder rather than directly at her. "Well…I owed somebody an explanation." He stopped there, about to go on, but he then pointed to the door. Hermione ignored the gesture.

"Why me?"

Draco sighed, this time, ready. "Why do you think? What do you think Potter or Weasley would have done? They would have hexed me the moment I'd have thrown them their wand. They wouldn't have trusted me. They wouldn't have understood me. They wouldn't have seen me as who I was now. They wouldn't have forgiven me. They would look at me as Draco Malfoy, their enemy from school, and automatically judge me. You're different. You didn't hex me. You didn't even leave. You saw me for who I really am. Draco. Not Malfoy. Draco."

"But, I still don't-"

"Goddamnit, Hermione! You're understanding, kind, smart, carefree, everything. You are everything. Blood doesn't matter to me anymore. Who you are does." Draco moved in. Somehow, Hermione almost expected it, but she hadn't made a conscious decision on what to do. His lips hit her and she felt the same feeling as their day in the garden, only it was exponentially stronger. The shock was so unbelievable that she couldn't even think. After about ten seconds, though, she pulled away. She grabbed her suitcase, wrenched the door open and ran. She couldn't have this. She couldn't.

"Hermione! Hermione, wait!" Hermione didn't stop. She kept running. "Hermione, I love you!" She stopped. She was shaking now. Behind her stood the only man who had ever said those words and truly meant them in a non-friend way. Sure, Viktor had said them, but Viktor was just a passing thing. This was serious love and she knew it. She had one shot.

Hermione hated clichés.

She ran without stopping for a quarter of a mile before she collapsed onto a patch of grass beside the road. She quickly stood up and looked around. He hadn't followed. She picked up her suitcase and focused on her flat.

When she got home, it was dark and empty. It was emptier than it had ever felt before. Hermione coughed from all of the dust from an empty apartment wished she had asked Draco for that little charm to clean it all up. She sighed, shook her head, conjured up a feather duster and started to clean up her life.

Sometimes, it creeps along like a small cobweb carried by a summer's breeze. When the wind blows, it floats on and when the wind stops, it just sits on the grass with nothing to do. But, no matter what, time passes. Hermione didn't like to think about it, as it was another cliché, but knew that it was true. Every time she thought of Draco through the year, she just looked at the minute hand and thought about time until her mind was swallowed by another subject. Her mind couldn't stay on him for more than a few minutes at a time. If someone asked her how she felt about him, she couldn't have answered. If someone asked why she had run, she couldn't have answered. She thought so little of the topic, yet everything from the summer remained somewhere in her mind. The memories weren't dead, but they weren't living. They were asleep. She wasn't sure if they would wake, nor was she sure whether or not she wanted them to.

The year went by fast and slow. At the time, the minutes seemed like hours. But, when she sat at the staff table at the year-end dinner talking to Professor Binns, she couldn't seem to remember a single moment in the entire year. Maybe it was a heartbeat, maybe it was an eternity. She couldn't remember. Hermione was only listening halfheartedly as Professor Binns continued discussing an interesting paper a sixth-year student had written.

"…And of course you know all about the myth of Demeter and Persephone. Basically, Persephone was kidnapped by Hades, God of the Underworld, against her will to Hell so she could be his bride. She hated him but the poor girl had no choice and she was forced to stay with him for three months every year-"

"Wait," Hermione said, "How do you know she hated him? What if Persephone was really in love with Hades? What if she was just too ashamed to admit it to Demeter and the rest of the Gods? What if," she gasped, "her nine months above the Underworld were actually Hell and the time she spent with Hades was heaven?"

Professor Binns was stunned. Rarely had anybody ever interrupted one of his mind-numbingly long speeches. "Miss Granger, I believe we were discussing the similarities between the myth and the Goblin revolts of 1786. The comparisons were mostly valid except for the minor detail relating to…"

Hermione wasn't listening at all anymore. Everything around her seemed to blur after she reached her epiphany. She excused herself from the table early and nearly ran down to her chambers in the dungeons. The dark hallways seemed almost pitch-black to her. She wished for the thousandth time for a bit of sunlight. When she reached her office, Hermione grabbed her small suitcase and packed just a few outfits as fast as she could. When she left, she was running. She prayed that he would still be there. She prayed that he would still be waiting for her return. She didn't know what she would do if she arrived at the Riddle House and found it empty. She made her way through the entrance hall, too full of purpose to pause to greet any students. Hermione opened the grand doors of Hogwarts and ran into the rain. She summoned a carriage and as soon as she passed the boundaries, she apparrated to Little Hangleton.

The village was quiet. There was a slight drizzle outside. She was walking now, almost afraid of what waited ahead of the orange lights of the rows of street lamps. Ahead of the lights was that mansion on the hill.

She paused outside the front door before banging on it. She didn't stop until it opened. Draco didn't look any different than he had the summer before. He looked genuinely shocked to see her, but he stepped aside and let her enter. There was no longer a need for words between Persephone and her love.