Chapter 4:
Ronald Weasley had some nerve. He had come back, spouting off about his Deluminator allowing him to hear Hermione, talking about warm balls of light in his chest. Yes, he'd saved Harry and destroyed the Horcrux. But where was he when they'd practiced defensive spells and Apparating under the Invisibility Cloak and made polyjuice likenesses of Muggles to ensure they could escape in case Voldemort cornered them when they went to visit the cemetery in Godric's Hollow? Which he had. And where had Ron been when they'd almost died in Bathilda Bagshot's home on Christmas Eve?
Not with them. That much was certain.
And he had the nerve to come marching back into their lives. Hermione had half a mind to hex Harry for his not allowing her to hex Ronald. The boys were inside the tent sleeping when she began to feel restless. So much had happened in the last few weeks that she hadn't had time to dedicate to scrying. She'd been far more concerned with trying to stay alive.
Hermione slipped out of the tent and went to sit with her back to a tree stump. She retrieved the mirror from her bag and looked around her conspiratorially. It was one thing for Harry to catch her gazing into the smooth surface. But with Ron back, she'd have no excuse if she were caught again. She set a magical trip wire across the front of the tent and conjured her tiny flame.
Her mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts and it took a while for her to be able to quiet it enough to meditate. She concentrated on the sounds around her—the soft crunch of snowflakes landing on top of the surrounding blanket of snow, the wind whispering through the trees, causing the boughs to rub together and moan, the scuttling of a rabbit close by. It was dark out here, and she refused to ignite another light source, intuition telling her the moonlight was sufficient.
I want to speak to him.
Her intention was clear. She'd spent hours after her last vision, replaying the gentle scene in her head. Malfoy was going to be a father, and from the brief glimpse into his life, a rather good one. She thought incessantly that first day after she'd seen his child about what changes he would have to make in his life, the atoning he would have to accomplish before his life would be made any easier. The surface of the mirror became murky and a bright, sunny day appeared.
Hermione looked around herself and noticed she was standing by the Black Lake at Hogwarts. The castle was looking worn for wear and had visible damage to one of the turrets. Walls on the far side had crumbled, the stones a massive pile waiting to be reassembled. The rings of the Quidditch Pitch in the distance were burned and disintegrating. She furrowed her brow at the sight, taking in the new sight of her old home. Her eyes came to rest on the familiar blond head she so often sought.
He was lying on his back, his arms crossed behind his head, his knees bent. Though the day was dreadfully hot, he wore all black and long sleeves. He looked to be enjoying the sunshine, his eyes closed and lips parted.
Hermione saddled up next to him, hoping her intention would come true. "Malfoy?" she asked quietly, not wanting to startle him.
He didn't move, didn't even flinch. She sighed and just as she did, she heard footsteps behind her. Hermione looked up and when she did, she saw herself walking in their direction. She was thinner, her eyes infinitely more haunted than when she'd looked in the mirror that morning. It was clear she had been through something traumatic. Her vision-self looked in her direction briefly, not seeing her but knowing she was there. This must be the future and her future-self remembered seeing this in the scrying mirror.
Hermione watched as her vision-self stood next to Malfoy. He opened one eye and looked in her direction as her shadow was cast over his face, blocking the sunlight he seemed so intent on soaking up. His face screwed into a scowl. "Can I help you, Granger?" His voice wasn't quite biting, but it was clear he wanted to skip the pleasantries.
"I just saw you sitting out here all alone, thought you might like company," she replied.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. Her vision-self was awfully sure of herself. He gestured toward the ground, indicating he wanted her to sit alongside him. "I'm not much for conversation," he said in a clipped tone.
"I'm not looking for conversation," she shrugged, lying on her back beside him and crossing her hands on her stomach as she enjoyed the sun.
Hermione walked around her vision-self and Malfoy, looking at the pair in wonder. In what universe did they lie in the grass together, an amicable silence between them? Why were they at school, a damaged and tattered Hogwarts? "You shouldn't let them get to you," her vision-self said, breaking the silence after a minute, but not opening her eyes.
"Who?" Malfoy asked, scrunching his face.
"The other students. They don't know you or what you've been through," she replied.
"Neither do you. If you did, you wouldn't be sitting here so calmly, Granger."
"I know more than you think," was her simple reply.
Of course she did, she'd seen it all in the mirror—his torture, his hesitance in joining, his motives… She was going through the motions, playing a part though she clearly knew how this conversation would go.
Malfoy scoffed, opening his eyes and looking up at the clouds above. Hermione's vision-self did the same. "You know, when I was a child, I would stare at the clouds. Sometimes for hours, trying to make shapes of them, creating stories for the characters before the wind blew them apart."
Malfoy was silent for a beat, his eyes scanning the clouds. "I did the same thing. I'd sit on my broom at the Manor for hours, wishing I could fly right up into the clouds and be whisked away."
"I'm sorry for what you've been through," she replied. "But you've got a second chance now. To start fresh and make amends."
"How shall I do that, when everyone is out for my blood? No matter that I was acquitted. I've got the Mark on my arm to prove that I am the root of everyone's dismay."
"Take it one day at a time. Start letting people see that you're remorseful. Donate money and, more importantly, time to relief efforts. Write letters to people you've wronged and apologize. But, most importantly, let people in, Draco. You can't keep going like you have been, reclusive and moping about."
Hermione raised an eyebrow at her vision-self's ferocity. Whatever they'd been through was significant. The War must have been fought and somehow, he'd been acquitted. He'd changed sides.
They stared at the rolling clouds once more. "Thank you," he finally said.
Her vision-self hummed. "For?"
"Not being like the others."
She shrugged. "I'm alone here, too."
Hermione raised an eyebrow once more. She was at Hogwarts. After the War. Alone. Had Harry and Ron died? Her vision self pointed up to the sky and tilted her head in Malfoy's direction. "That one there looks like a niffler. And that small puff could be a galleon it's chasing. What shall we name him?"
Malfoy let out a chuckle at her absurdity and Hermione smiled. Her vision-self was grinning at the sound, her eyebrow raised. "How about Neil? And he's escaped Gringotts with a few coins," he offered.
"A niffler on the lam from the law?" vision-Hermione laughed. "I always hated that the Goblins kept them anyway."
Malfoy rolled his eyes, but he had a smile playing across his lips as well, seemingly put to ease by the playful, lighthearted conversation. "How about that one?" he asked, pointing to a large blob of a cloud. "Looks like a dragon to me."
Vision-Hermione turned her head this way and that, closing one eye and then the other. "Nah. I don't see a dragon. I see a fat hippogriff named Hershey."
Malfoy's laugh this time was loud and hearty. "And I suppose he's eaten one too many ferrets?" he teased.
"Precisely. You'd better watch out, Malfoy."
Malfoy tilted his head toward hers, just as she had done, bringing their heads close together. "I'll let you in on a little secret."
"Oh?" Vision-Hermione asked.
"I snacked on ferret food for a month after that," he laughed and she looked over at him, her eyes wide.
"You didn't!"
He nodded once more. "I did. Snuck down to Hagrid's shed and retrieved an entire bag."
Vision-Hermione touched her head to his. "I'll let you in on a little secret."
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" he mocked, thoroughly enjoying their exchange.
"I find ferrets to be adorable," she whispered, pretending to look around to make sure their conversation wasn't being overheard.
The tips of Malfoy's ears turned pink, as did his prominent cheeks. "Granger, if I didn't know any better, I would think you came here to flirt with me."
Vision-Hermione shrugged. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're flirting right back."
And she turned her face toward his and planted a soft kiss on the side of his face. Malfoy, for his part, looked thoroughly pleased with the way their interaction had transpired as he looked back up toward the skies.
"What in the bloody hell?" came the loud screech that startled her from her vision.
It was dark and she knew that there was no way Ron could have seen what she was doing that quickly. But he was sprawled across the entrance to the tent, having tripped over her magical tripwire. Hermione sighed. One day, she'd be able to actually speak to Dracohim. But for now, she would take what she could get.
o-o-o
Please review! What do you think so far?