Hogwarts is in flames. Voldemort is dead, killed by Harry Potter. The army of Dark wizards which stormed Hogwarts, and broke down its magical defences, has been defeated. Teams of teachers and pupils are channelling water from the lake to quench the flames. Other people are scurrying among the wounded, magically healing them-- and tying them up to await justice if they are part of the Dark Side. Some of course are already dead or cannot be healed-- Lucius Malfoy has just expired from one of Harry's curses, despite the best efforts of Professor Sprout to revive him. Draco Malfoy also appears to be dead, but it is an illusion-- late in the battle Hermione set the Sleep of Death curse upon him, as he rushed to help his father attack Harry. He is safe: accounted for. He will be awoken for his trial.
Harry and Hermione are ignoring the bustle around them, locked in an embrace as both of them realise how close they came to losing each other. Happy to be alive, for a moment that lasts forever...
Suddenly Harry pushes Hermione violently to the ground. There is a bright flash of light from somewhere behind her-- Harry isn't there any more. Draco Malfoy is running away-- he Disapparates as Hermione screams.
# # #
Draco strode ahead, not looking back to where Hermione followed panting, pulling her tartan suitcase-on-wheels. "What do we do now?" she asked him.
Draco shrugged. "I'll tell you when I know," he said gruffly.
"When you know? How will you know?" said Hermione and stopped abruptly. They were walking along Glenbunion's main street, such as it was-- three pubs, a chemist, a small Spar supermarket with attached off-license and a New Age/hippy-type shop called Soul Searchers. Hermione had stopped to stare at the window of Soul Searchers.
"What is it?" said Draco irritably, coming over to join her, looking at the grotty display of candles, Tarot cards and wind-chimes that lined the window. He couldn't work out what Hermione could see there that was so fascinating.
"Look!" Hermione pointed at a small sign sellotaped to the inside of the glass.
TAROT READINGS. WEDNESDAYS AND FRIDAYS 2pm-5pm
MADAME SYBIL TRELAWNEY.
"I see," said Draco. "What day is it today?"
"Friday," said Hermione. "And the time is...?" "Four fifteen."
"Perfect," said Draco glumly. "Just absolutely perfect. Potter's got a talent for logistics-- Let's go and get our cards read, shall we?"
They went inside-- it reeked of incense and patchouli oil. Draco wrinkled his nose. He looked round at Hermione to see her doing the same.
"We've come to see the Tarot reader," said Draco to the bespectacled, grey-ponytailed man behind he counter.
"Both together?" said the man smiling at them. "It's thirty quid for a couples reading." He went over to a wooden, spiralling staircase at the back of the shop and shouted up it: "Madame Sybil! Love's young dream here to see you..."
Love's young dream exchanged disgusted glowers. "Ah, bless," said the man coming back to the counter. "You can't take your eyes off each other..." He eyed their luggage. "Looks like you've come a long way to see Madame Sybil... Are you here on honeymoon by any chance?"
"NO!" snapped Hermione.
"Oops, looks like I touched a sore spot... Haven't you got him to pop the question yet? Never mind, I'm sure he soon will. Who could resist a lovely girl like yourself?...."
The man kept on talking. Draco slapped the thirty pounds down on the counter and escaped upstairs.
Hermione followed dragging her feet.
###
Hermione.
A clear shape in the mist that surrounds me. A real thing in this world of foggy fantasy.
So many times I've tried to touch you. To get you to look at me.
Your mind is fenced around with spiky thorns, I can't break through.
But I can hear you calling out for me all the time. I can taste the tears you're afraid to cry.
Please Hermione. See me. Know I'm there. Know I love you.
###
Professor Trelawney looked the same as she always had, with the single addition of a ridiculous green headscarf. The light from several candles was glinting off her glasses. "Welcome," she said in a low mysterious voice. "I am Sybil Trelawney. Please sit down."
They sat down in front of her black velvet-draped table. "You wished the Tarot?" she said. "You wish to know the future of love, of your relationship? The cards can supply answers, but only to those who are prepared to hear them. If you are ready, shuffle these now."
She handed a well-worn pack of cards to Hermione. Hermione threw them on the floor. Professor Trelawney looked shocked but Hermione didn't give her the chance to speak.
"Don't you know who we are, you old fraud?" she said. "You may be fooling the Muggles but you're not fooling us! What are you doing here?"
Professor Trelawney looked at Hermione with dislike. "It seems to me that I do recognise you," she said. "Although you're chubbier than you used to be. Hermione Granger, the most promising pupil in years, so everyone said. They were laying bets on you to become the first female Minister of Magic, you know. And then you ran away. A Muggle secretary, that's what you became. A lonely, lowly little secretary who sleeps with her boss. People talked about it for a bit, but I wasn't surprised. I always knew you were Muggle in your head. I've already collected on the bets..."
Hermione clenched her fists at her sides. "That's what I am," she said. "Except I don't sleep with my boss any more. But better that than what you are. A failed prophetess in a poky shop in a poky town who makes her living by defrauding dumb Muggles. What a fulfilling life you must be leading. "
She rounded on Draco. "Typical. Just bloody typical. I haven't spoken to any wizard in two years and when I do they turn out to be the Mysterious Madame Trelawney and Draco Malfoy-- why the hell did you bring me here?"
"Draco Malfoy?" shrieked Professor Trelawney, looking at Draco closely for the first time and, clutching her hand to her throat. "So you're not just a Muggle but a traitor, Miss Granger. Have you two come here to kill me? I did my bit in the fight against You-Know-Who, and I'm not ashamed of it. If you want to wreak vengeance on me then you can go ahead, you'll never bring the Dark Lord back..."
Malfoy stepped forward and slapped Professor Trelawney's face. "You were getting hysterical," he said calmly to her. "No one wants to kill you."
"Speak for yourself," Hermione muttered. "Well, in any case," continued Malfoy with a hint of a suppressed smile, "no-one's going to kill you. And no-one wants to bring the Dark Lord back."
Hermione looked at him in surprise. So did Professor Trelawney. He scowled. "I don't want to fight the Dark War again, of course I don't. My father died in it. My friends died in it." He glanced at Hermione. "Harry Potter died in it, and it's him we came here to see you about."
"Harry Potter?" A strange, faraway expression passed across Professor Trelawney's face. Her voice became soft and dreamy. "Yes, of course. I knew that he was not at peace. So you have come here to save him."
Abruptly she fixed her gaze on a spot just between Hermione and Malfoy. Hermione shivered. Pull yourself together, girl, she's probably faking anyway, advised Everybody's Mother.
"Who is Dudley?" enquired Professor Trelawney.
"Dudley Dursley-- Harry's cousin," said Hermione. "They grew up together."
"We must find him," said Professor Trelawney.
"WE?" shrieked Hermione and Malfoy in harmony.
"Yes," said Professor Trelawney calmly. "It seems that I too am part of this quest. Do you know where to find this man?"
Malfoy was looking distinctly shifty. "Er-- I do," he said. "We used to work together. In London. But I'd prefer not to go to London-- it might be better to meet him somewhere else, a bit more out of the way., I can telephone to arrange something. "
"What about his parent's house?" suggested Hermione. "It's in Little Whinging. In Surrey." She'd get to see where Harry grew up!
"A long journey-- I suggest we start tomorrow morning," said Professor Trelawney. "I would offer you accommodation for the night, but I have no wish to be arrested for harbouring a fugitive. Besides which I am very sensitive to unpleasant psychic vibrations-- the presence of you two could render my house uninhabitable for a week. The Grand Hotel is just a little up the street. You can stay there."
"Charming," muttered Hermione, and stalked huffily out with Malfoy.
###
Malfoy.
You're reaching towards me.
There's a hole inside you. Dark. Unfillable.
An abyss of guilt-- you're trying to touch me all the time. To be punished.
You're frightened of me, Draco Malfoy. (Harry Potter who killed your father, Harry Potter who should have killed you.)
You think death is easier than life, but even death isn't going to fill up the hole inside you.
I wish you no harm Malfoy, but it seems I can only touch you in your sore places.
I can only touch you to hurt you, as your guilt sucks me in.
Please Malfoy. Stop hurting. See me. Forgive me. Let go of me.
### Draco looked uncomfortably at Hermione, sitting on the king-size bed of the hotel room. Their hotel room-- that was what he was uncomfortable about. It had been necessary, but he didn't think that Hermione would see it that way, and as soon as he took the Silencing Spell off her he suspected he'd be in for some serious yelling.
"I'm keeping the spell on you till after I've explained," said Draco sitting down beside her. "Listen, Hermione. The Ministry are after me. Well, you know that of course, but you didn't know they're on my tail. They nearly caught up with me a few days ago-- I had to get out of London in a hurry. That's why I booked a double room. Cover. They're looking for a man on his own. They know about the hair colour, they might even know about the glasses. But they don't know about you, you're the best disguise I've got. I'm not going to molest you or anything, you can sleep on the floor."
He muttered a small prayer to whatever gods looked after people like him, and waved the wand.
Hermione was still staring at him indignantly. "How can I possibly trust you?" she said. "You took my wand away from me, you went through my things, you put a Silencing Spell on me. You seem to think you can treat me however you please-- how can I believe you're going to keep your word?"
"Well I'm not going to touch you or anything," snapped Draco. "Honestly, Hermione, you're not remotely attractive to me any more."
"Hah! Any more! You were never attractive to me EVER," said Hermione, somewhat childishly in Draco's opinion.
"Well, that's sorted then," he said, feeling slightly chagrined that he'd lost that round. "I don't think we should hold conversations, we don't seem to be very good at them. I'll put the TV on."
Business news was making the headlines again-- various Muggle experts were predicting that the speculative stockmarket boom couldn't last and a collapse in prices was due any day now. Draco tried to concentrate on it and to ignore the presence of Hermione who was sitting beside him on the king-size bed and staring into space.
He wasn't very successful. Memories kept creeping back to him: the strange, twilight place he'd been when Hermione had put him into the Sleep of the Dead. He remembered knowing, even in that place, that his father had died. His whole body had seemed to shriek with rage, somehow it had given him the strength to come back, to break out of the Sleep, to avenge his father. Except sometimes-- sometimes he felt that he hadn't come back. Not fully. A part of him was still there, forever in the twilight. Life had been unreal since then, nothing seemed to matter that much. As if it was all a game, or a practical joke.
He glanced at Hermione. She was real. His work in the City of London had put him in contact with many women who were far more conventionally attractive, blondes who were eager to date a rich-and reasonably-handsome young man. But they just seemed like part of the game. They certainly didn't care about him: how could they? They never got to know him. At least Hermione hated him for himself...
And for Harry. He had a sudden attack of dizziness, felt like he was falling a million miles. He watched himself, in slow motion, reaching towards Hermione, the alarm on her face being replaced with a sudden flash of understanding as he saw himself kiss her...
###
And, just for a moment, there's no fog any more. I'm in a room-- a hotel room. Blue paint on the walls. Grey deep pile carpet. And I'm sitting on a king-size bed, royal blue silk covering, and my fingertips are brushing the silk. And Hermione's sitting beside me. Her hair's all frizzing out around her head: it catches the fading sunlight like a halo. Her face is close to mine: she's got small freckles on her nose. Dark circles under her eyes, but they're the most beautiful eyes in the world.
I kiss her. Of course. She's so beautiful I can't help it. And there should be music playing, but there isn't, so the scene fades out, to the sound of this heart that is not mine, thumping violently.
###
Malfoy pulled back from Hermione abruptly. He was pale, as startled-looking as she felt, and looked as if he was going to be sick.
"That wasn't me," he said.
"I know," said Hermione. "I could tell-- for a moment-- it was Harry..."
"It was because of you," said Malfoy. "Being near you--- he took me over."
Hermione nodded dumbly. It had been Harry. She'd been absolutely certain of it, for that sweet, short moment. All the arguments which her rational mind tried to throw up couldn't withstand that certainty. But now Harry was gone, There was only a shaken Draco Malfoy sitting beside her. She couldn't help feeling sorry for him. And she could think of nothing to say to him.
"Malfoy--" she reached towards him, to put her arm round his shoulders. He flinched away. "I think you'd better not touch me," he said. "I-- I'm afraid. It might..."
It might happen again. He'd been going to say that. And Hermione wanted it to happen again. Wanted it, and was afraid it would. Could Harry take over Malfoy's body completely? Did she want that to happen? Surely Harry had more right to live than Malfoy did...
Necromancy. You'd stoop to necromancy, now? asked Everybody's Mother in a tone of disgust. Hermione ignored her. She'd kissed Harry again. After six years. She'd touched him for one second, one eternity. She couldn't think of anything else.
When she eventually slept, she had very strange dreams, which she didn't remember in the morning.
###
Author's note: Aagh. It's got rather disturbing. The bits from Harry's PoV freaked me out slightlywhen I wrote them. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed last time. It was greatly appreciated. Don't think I'm greedy but I'd really like you all to review this one, please... I'm still worried it's too strange. And I'm afraid I had a bit of a sense of humour bypass while I wrote this... Tell me which bits you liked, which bits were too confusing, what you think might be going to happen next: anything!