So bury fear for fate draws near . . .
Whoever had made the Portkey was playing a horrible joke.
Draco shoved the stone and handkerchief in his pocket before taking in his surroundings again. He tried to find the large, rocky crevice Hermione had told him about, showed him pictures of, but there was nothing. He stood in the middle of what looked to be moors; no large rocks in sight except for a lone tower jutting crookedly from the ground like a white, moss-covered finger pointing toward the sky.
And the sky . . . it looked different from when he'd left. It was still fairly early in the morning when Longbottom arrived with his wand. Draco reached down his side and fingered the wand in its' sheath. It felt good to have it back, even with conditions.
He felt disoriented. Dizzier than the Portkey warranted. It was then he realised that he had forgotten his watch. If the sky was anything to judge by, though, it was quite close to nightfall. Wrong place, wrong time. Draco didn't know how that had happened, but he figured he would try to find a dry place in the tower to spend the night before going out to look for the Green Chapel when it was light again. Better than being lost on the moors.
Draco walked toward the tower. It wasn't too far in the distance and seemed to be abandoned. The roof was missing in patches and probably hadn't seen human occupation in decades. Once he came closer though he realised that the door seemed sturdy enough and was made of iron-bound oak.
He pushed against the door and it yielded easily, swinging inward on silent hinges. It made him wonder if there was someone living in the tower after all.
"Hello?" Draco called. "Is anyone here?"
To be on the safe side, he pulled his wand out and held it low in front of him. No one answered so he kept walking, Lumos the very first spell he cast with his beloved old friend. The wandlight was dim, but he could see one foot in front of the other. There was another door up ahead, and this one had the distinctive flickering of firelight coming from underneath.
Draco knew now that someone must live there. He stood straight and rapped twice on the warped door. A shadow moved and the door opened. Standing inside the doorframe was an old woman, hunched and twisted under a tattered shawl. Her face seemed almost drawn inward, except her button nose which appeared pert and very interested in him. She looked up at Draco the best she could. It seemed difficult to raise her head due to the deformation of her spine.
"Owd be thee?"
Draco blinked. Was that even English? Did he fall in a hole? He'd never been to Staffordshire. He hoped this wasn't one of those horrible local dialects.
"I'm, uh, Draco Malfoy. Do you live here?"
The woman stared at him with brown eyes round as buttons. "Janetne!" she yelled, poking her head out and toward the tower stairs.
Draco heard a sudden clatter coming down the tower and he stepped back to stay out of the way. A beautiful woman with thick, chocolate-coloured hair flowing over her shoulders stepped into view. She didn't seem surprised to see him.
"I saw you wandering around out on the moors. I thought you'd come here," she said in a voice which had very little trace of whatever dialect the old woman spoke until she started gibbering at her rapidly using words that almost seemed like English.
The old woman stepped back and the younger woman curled her lip up into an appraising smile. "I'm Janet, by the way. My mother is Tilda. What's your name?"
"Draco," he said. He blinked several times to get his bearings as he was starting to become dizzy. "I was hoping to stay here overnight, but I thought it was abandoned. I didn't know people lived here."
The old woman beckoned him inside toward the fire.
"We don't have visitors very often," Janet said. "Sometimes someone gets lost out here, but mostly it's just my mother and I. Of course you're welcome to stay."
Draco stepped into the tiny room hesitantly. The fire was warmer than outside or in the draughty hallway. He tried to slip his wand back in the holster casually, but the sharp eyed old woman saw it and started firing off words rapidly again.
"You don't have to hide your wand," Janet laughed. "I'm a witch myself."
"I don't remember you from school. Did you go to Hogwarts?"
She shook her head. "No, I went to a small school in Wales, then I finished up at an academy in London on scholarship. We couldn't afford Hogwarts."
Draco looked around the tiny room. There weren't many of the usual accoutrements you would find in a witch's home. In fact, he saw several things that looked distinctly Muggle. "Are you Muggle-born?"
"Yes, my mother is a Muggle," Janet said neutrally. "That isn't a problem, is it?"
Draco quickly shook his head. "No, no. I don't care. I've just—well, I've never been in a Muggle's house before. Are they all like this?"
Janet cackled, and so did her mother. "I doubt it! We live out here, quite solitary. My mother isn't really keen on technology and the like. Electricity, telephones, television . . . so we live a simple life. Although I think when she found out I was a witch it was a bit of a blessing. I can make potions for her back pain, and I can cast a spell to soften her chair a bit."
Tilda hobbled off toward the fire and gestured toward the large pot hanging there.
"Are you hungry?" Janet asked. "We usually make enough to last us for a while. There should be plenty."
Draco was about to say no when he remembered Hermione's voice telling him to be kind and virtuous. It wouldn't poison him. He'd eaten worse for the brief time he was on the run with Snape.
"Yes, thanks," he said absently as he studied the walls. They were made of smooth white stone and hung all around with tapestries. One of the hangings caught his eye. It showed a large man with green skin, hair, and clothes swinging a giant axe into the neck of a kneeling man.
"What's this?" he asked Janet.
She came closer to where he stood and leant forward to see better in the gloom. "Oh! That's the Green Knight. He's famous this part of Staffordshire. They reckon the bloke who wrote it is from near here. That's just a cheap tapestry Mum got, though. It helps keep it warmer in here. The stones are so cold."
Draco watched Janet from the corner of his eye. She was more physically attractive than Hermione in many ways. They shared a similar nose, but the richness of Janet's hair and the perfection of her features made her ravishingly beautiful whereas Hermione was simply 'pretty'. Janet was taller with the type of willowy figure Draco most admired. But Hermione had much nicer breasts, he admitted.
He accepted a small bowl from Tilda, brimming with a hot stew that made his mouth water. He thanked her and sat near the fire where she had indicated. She took his cloak and hung it on a hook near the door.
Janet pulled up a small stool next to Draco and smiled with perfect, white teeth. Draco smiled back, close-lipped, and observed Tilda and Janet as he ate. He couldn't find fault with the fare; it was as good as any of the sturdy foods served at Hogwarts during his school years, despite the fact that he suspected it was full of weird bog vegetables and wild things.
He saw Janet watching him, but he ignored it. Tilda smiled at him as she finally sat down, her mouth surprisingly still full of teeth for someone so old. She began to eat her own meal and gazed at Draco fondly. It made him a bit uncomfortable, to be completely honest.
There was also a sharpness to Janet's eyes that Draco didn't like. She seemed too keen, too eager for him to stay the night. Maybe it was just loneliness, he didn't know. But he'd have to watch her closely and guard his wand well.
"So where were you headed to?" Janet asked, blowing on a bit of stew on her wooden spoon.
"I was looking for Lud's Church," Draco replied carefully. He watched them for a reaction, but other than a foolish looking grin Janet did nothing. Tilda rolled her eyes.
"There are so many tourists who go to Lud's Church every year," Janet said. "You wouldn't believe how many of them get lost on the moor like you did."
"I took a Portkey, actually," Draco sighed. "It should have taken me straight there but I wound up here instead."
Janet's lips twisted to the side in a contemplative frown. "That's odd."
Draco nodded and continued to eat his stew.
"Well, I know where it is. It's not far from here, but you can't Apparate. There's something about the stones here or something in the soil that interferes."
Draco lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "I've never heard of that before."
Janet shrugged and ate her last bite of stew. "It's a local thing. I don't expect you would. I only found out after I almost splinched myself. Anyway, we have some horses we use to ride into town for supplies. I can take you to Lud's Church in the morning."
"Don't you have a broom?" Draco asked with a wince. "I haven't ridden a horse in years."
Janet shook her head. "I had an old Cleansweep, but it broke. You'll be fine on the horse." She smiled at him in a way that was almost lascivious as she set her bowl down beside her. "Once you learn how to ride, you never really forget."
He watched her eyes twinkle in the firelight and said nothing.
Draco felt awkward riding out with Janet the next morning. Sometime during the night, she had crawled into his bed and things had gotten a bit heated, a bit interesting. But in the end, he had to disappoint and tell her no.
Janet was quite attractive, and he was . . . intrigued. He didn't know what motivated her to do such a thing. Perhaps she just assumed that he would take advantage of what she freely offered. Draco wondered if there was ever a time when he would have, but he realised that he'd always held an emotional connection to be important; even with Pansy or Daphne back in school. Pansy had often joked that he wanted another mother more than a girlfriend.
Draco shifted uncomfortably in the saddle and waited whilst Janet jammed her left foot in her stirrup and swung her right leg over the back of the dappled grey mare she had chosen. He didn't like thinking about his school days. He squinted as he looked to the east where the sun was a hazy disc just above the crimson-edged horizon.
Tilda had seen them off with bowls full of oats and cream. Draco's stomach actually felt a little too full to be jostled around on a horse, but it was better than walking to Lud's Church. He wasn't sure what a kilometer was, but it sounded further than a mile.
"How far is ten kilometers?" Draco asked as they started their horses into a walk.
Janet flashed her dark eyes at him, her expression sullen and pouty. "I forgot wizards don't use metric." She didn't speak for a moment, and he thought she'd leave it at that when she said: "It's perhaps six or six and a half imperial miles."
Draco turned his head back to watch the surrounding countryside. "Six miles isn't that much, I suppose. A kilometer sounded far."
She didn't say anything and Draco decided then that it would be a good idea to stop talking. Obviously she was still sore from his refusal the previous evening. He pushed his horse into a light canter and Janet kept pace easily. He just wanted this all to be over. It was possible that he had turned down his very last chance to shag before he died and he wasn't sure how he felt about it now. Other than awkward around the woman he had turned down. Perhaps even wistful that the opportunity hadn't been with someone else.
They rode toward the west, away from the rising sun, and he thought it was ironic. The druids had always said that the afterlife was to the west. But the barren moorland looked alien to him. He missed the hedgerows swatting his face as he raced his broom down the old village road back to the Manor when he was a young boy. Or skimming the surface of the River Bourne and letting the fish nibble his fingers as he floated lazily above them on his broom, clouds of dragonflies rising in the summer heat.
He wanted to die somewhere familiar. Instead there was scrub, heather, and endless hills shrouded in mist as he steadily rode forward like some bloody senseless Gryffindor.
Draco glanced to his right where Janet was keeping pace beside him and had for probably the past hour. What would he do when they got to Lud's Church? Could he just tell her to piss off? She probably wouldn't listen, the barmy witch. He wished he could just use the map that Hermione had so meticulously made for him, but most of it was of the actual rock crevice. The map of the area was still on the worktable in his library, so he'd need Janet's help for at least a little longer.
He leant forward in his saddle and pushed his mount into a proper gallop. Janet rode beside him for about ten minutes before she directed her horse slightly to the south. Draco could see large round grey boulders in the distance and the land to their right dropped off steeply. He hoped they were close now. He turned his horse to follow her.
Janet pulled up on her reins and slowed to a walk in order to direct her mount down a narrow path winding between two large boulders. Draco came behind, but his horse almost reared when it encountered a fat woolly sheep directly on the other side. Janet's ringing laughter followed Draco further down the path. He sent the sheep rolling across the grass with a flick of his wand until it met another sheep and they collapsed in a pile of limbs and wool.
Ahead of him, Janet moved her horse into a canter up the next hill and he followed quickly. They rode without incident for another ten minutes, dodging the occasional sheep or shaggy long-horned bullock.
Draco wasn't really watching where he was riding. His mind grew vacant as he contemplated all the things he hadn't done in his life. And all the things he had.
The sudden shrill scream of a horse sounded to the right, startling him from his maudlin thoughts, and Draco turned to watch helplessly as Janet's horse went down. The horse was more than fetlock deep in a hole and Janet rolled down a steep embankment, not having been able to catch her feet after leaping off and to the side. He could hear her scream mingle in the air with the sounds of the poor, wretched horse.
Draco drew his wand and immediately cast a summoning spell, but she was too heavy or his skills were too weak because she barely slowed down. He then attempted to levitate her, but again, his spell fizzled in the air whilst she rolled further and further away. He snarled and shoved his wand back in the holster. The embankment was too steep for the horse to ride down.
He could try to help her or let her die when she rolled over the edge of the cliff. Draco swallowed and jumped down from his horse. He would just have to deal with the other animal when he returned. He wished desperately for his broom. Why didn't he bring it?
Draco rushed down the steep hill as quickly as he could. Janet had reached the end and was fighting not to fall directly over. He walked more quickly, leaning back, until he finally lost his footing and skidded down the rest of the hill on his backside. Several rocks later, he was at the foot and near to where Janet had landed.
After he helped her up from the cliff, he'd send up some type of flare and be on his way. Perhaps this had all happened for a reason. Draco limped over to where Janet lay half on the cliff and half dangling over the edge.
"Help me!" Janet demanded. "Pull me up!"
Draco laid himself down right next to the edge and grasped her hand with his. "I'm going to lighten you so I can pull you up quicker."
Janet nodded while Draco fumbled for his wand. The position was awkward, but he didn't want to lose his grip on her hand. He finally pulled out his wand, but overcompensated and flung it out over the cliff. Draco watched it go sailing into the ravine below them. Which seemed to be the very same Lud's Church that he had been looking for.
When he looked back at Janet, her eyes were very wide. "The branch I was standing on, i-it fell away. Pull me up quick!"
Draco wrapped both hands around hers. "Put your other hand on top of mine," he instructed.
"I can't!" Janet wailed. "I'll fall!"
"You won't fall. I'm here. I'm going to pull you up."
Janet screamed as Draco tugged, and he could hear her feet skittering against the slippery side of the ravine. He rose to his knees, still holding her hand, and adjusted his grip before leaning back to pull.
"Janet," Draco panted, "I need your other hand. I can't do it this way."
She glanced down beneath her once again and looked him in the eye. "Don't drop me."
Draco shook his head. He was already winded, his hands slick with moisture and stinging from his trip down the hillside. Janet's other hand came up and he hooked his fingers around her wrist.
"When I say the word, push against the rocks."
Draco paused, gathering his strength. "Push!" he screamed.
He leant back, pulling, pulling. Janet's feet clattered against the stones. Draco could feel himself falling toward the edge, but he braced himself by widening his stance. He could feel her body rising above the edge. Once she had a knee close she pushed up against it and he pulled her body the rest of the way over.
Draco fell backward against the stones and grass and panted. He closed his eyes and scrubbed his face with his hands. It felt like the hardest thing he'd ever done.
"Are you okay?" he said, voice gravelly with strain.
She didn't answer him so he let his head flop to the side and opened his eyes.
Towering above him was a huge man, hair and skin green and wearing green armour. It could only be the Green Knight.
"Well met, my son," the Knight said jovially. "Come to challenge me at last, eh?"
Draco made the decision to get up not a moment too soon; a truly enormous axe cleaved through the air he had just occupied and embedded itself in the rocky soil.
"Are you going to fight, lad, or play tricks?" the green man rumbled.
"What could I possibly fight you with?" Draco asked desperately. He scanned the surroundings for a weapon and noticed that Janet was gone. Good riddance, he thought.
"Ah, such uncharitable thoughts don't become you, Draco," the Knight said.
Draco whipped his head back to face the Knight and forgot all about Janet. Apparently the man was a mind-reader, which would seriously hamper any type of planning. He would have to Gryffindor it.
The Knight threw his head back and chortled. "Hah hah hah! What a way with words you have!"
Draco tried not to think about it, to let instinct take him as he leapt forward and wrapped his hands around the beribboned handle of the massive axe. It was surprisingly easy to rip it away from the huge man.
The Knight continues to laugh, his voice echoing against the stones all around them and throwing it back a hundred times louder.
"Cut me, young one!" the Knight bellowed, striking his fists against his breastplate. "Cut me down and I'll be out of your life forever. You'll live and I will die."
Draco adjusted his grip on the axe, trying to balance the weight without tipping over. "I don't want to kill you. I just want you to fix them. Cure my mother. Cure the others. It's not their fault."
The Knight crossed his arms and planted his feet at shoulder width. "They were already marked for death," he said. "I only changed the process."
Draco narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
The green man shrugged. "Some would die in accidents, some of long lingering illnesses, some suddenly. But all were meant to die. I'm not killing them and I can't fix them."
Draco dropped the axe from nerveless fingers. "I came all this way for a cure. For Mother. I can't go back a-and watch her die."
The Knight started walking in a half circle around Draco. "Then you came for the wrong reason. I thought you had honour. I thought you came to fulfill the challenge I made to your father."
Draco sneered. "Piss on honour! I'm here for my mother, and that's the only reason."
"Are you sure?" the Knight whispered in his ear, his cold breath fanning Draco's hair. "Could it also have been to win the affection of a certain woman?"
Draco pushed his hair back from his face, away from his burning cheeks. "Granger didn't have anything to do with my choice. I'm here for my mother, and you will give me a cure for her!"
The Knight stepped back now, arms open. "Then kill me. Come and take this cure. We'll see who is right and who is wrong."
Draco picked up the axe and swung at the green man. He dodged the blow easily. Draco admitted it was clumsy and fell far short of his goal.
"I will kill you if I have to!" Draco snarled.
He paced forward, backing the Knight against a large boulder. There was no where now for him to go. The Knight was at his mercy. He just had to—
Draco paused with the axe raised. The Knight wasn't attempting to fight back. He merely stood there waiting. Draco tried to pull up the image of his mother, sick with fever, pale-lipped, and exhausted. She would be better. Wouldn't she? He just had to kill this stupid Knight, and the curse would be lifted.
But what if it wasn't? Then what? Destroy the necklace perhaps? Kill himself along with it? What was he willing to do to save his mother?
He hiked the axe up even higher and prepared himself to deliver a massive stroke to the Knight, but he just couldn't do it. It didn't matter that Snape was not nearby to clean up his mess this time. Granger would probably be as elated as much as she would be disappointed.
His mother would die.
Draco dropped the axe and fell to his knees. "What can I do?" he asked. "Are you going to kill me now? Am I the sacrifice?"
The Knight stepped forward, and the axe vanished before Draco's eyes.
"I won't kill you, young master Malfoy. Not today or on any other."
Draco gazed up at him in astonishment. "Then why am I here?"
The Knight took off his helmet and shook dark green hair from his face. His eyes were large and soulful-deep. "You were here to accept my challenge, which you did. And you passed it."
Draco blinked. "I don't understand. None of this makes any bloody sense. I should have listened when Granger read that book to me."
The man smiled warmly at him. "Everyone tries trickery first to win, but it's never needed. No matter how prepared, the challenge is different for everyone. For you, it was coming here prepared to die for someone you loved. It was offering mercy, even when you aren't normally so inclined. You even treated Janet and Tilda as equals despite their heritage."
"So why can't I save my mother? Why is she going to die?" Draco said, trying desperately to hold back tears at the thought.
The Knight reached under his breastplate and pulled a chain out over his head. Attached to the chain was the emerald pendant.
"That was at the Ministry," Draco said quietly. "How did you get it?"
"It wasn't theirs, it belongs now to the Malfoy family. Centuries ago, it belonged to my dear friend Walganus when we fought together against the Celts."
He dropped it in front of Draco. "Keep this in memory of him. And in memory of what passed here between us today. It will protect your family from harm. Pass it to your sons, or daughters even."
Draco picked it up and ran his thumb over the glassy surface. "Malfoys don't have daughters."
"You will now," the Knight said quietly. "The curse is lifted and your family will now thrive as it was meant to do centuries ago. And I am finally free of my own curse."
Draco looked up at the man in confusion. "I only understand half of this, you know."
The Knight chuckled. "Some mysteries will always remain thus, my lad."
"Can you at least tell me what happened to Courtenay?" Draco asked suddenly. The loneliness in Godwin's diary had haunted him and he wanted to know what had happened.
"Courtenay came to challenge me, but he failed," he said softly. "His grief was too strong, and his mind— twisted."
The Knight suddenly plucked Draco's wand from the air. "You can go home now, to those who love you. Take the necklace in your right hand and touch it to anyone with the plague and they will be cured. Your mother will live."
"What about the horse up there? And Janet? I need to at least take care of that horse. Put it down or something."
The Knight's smile grew calculating, almost teasing. "You don't want to know what happened to her, but your concern is entirely unnecessary I promise. The horse as well. Forget them."
Draco frowned but said nothing. He still felt confused and lost in his own mind, but he wasn't going to waste anymore time when his mother would be cured.
The Green Knight raised his hand. "Farewell, Draco Malfoy. Good luck in your life's journey."
Draco raised his hand awkwardly, not sure if he wanted to slap the man or kiss him. The Knight's eyes were cresent slits of amusement as he faded away, and deep rumbling laughter sounded around Draco again.
He raised his wand and concentrated on Apparating to St Mungo's. Suddenly nervous to be alive when he had been so sure he would die.
It would be a while before he saw Granger again. Hermione, he reminded himself. He wanted a few days to rest and contemplate just how he was going to tell her what had really happened that night he used her wand. A lot of reading would be required to find out how exactly it had happened. And preparation time to practice spells for when Potter and Weasley found out that Hermione Granger was now his wife.