Title: Trapped Behind You
Author: relativelypositive
Rating: T for now
Category: AU/Romance/Drama/Humor
Summary: Hermione was missing for an entire month, but she never left the library. It was up to Malfoy to save her, but he didn't know it.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter related and I make no money from the use of the characters created by JK Rowling.
Chapter 6: Time currently has no meaning
She lost track of time.
She didn't sleep. She didn't get hungry or thirsty.
She had been scared for the first hours, wondering when she'd start getting dizzy and the hunger pangs would begin.
Nothing.
She wondered once again if she were dead. But the evidence proved, as much as possible, that she was in the painting, just like the Old Asshole said she'd be.
Hermione was against giving disrespectful nicknames, and she was generally against swearing, but that man would forever and ever be known as the Old Asshole.
Trying to kill a person earns you a mean nickname.
She looked down at her body whenever she started feeling disconnected. Maybe being in the portrait put her system into some kind of suspended animation, while her intellect and muscles still worked?
Magic was funny that way, and it made Hermione fantastically happy.
Anyway, Hermione started working through the books she had access to, and was constantly trying to find information that could help her situation.
The day he started to appear Hermione grabbed a few heftier tomes and piled them in front of the figure, then grabbed a few more books.
She sat and read a chapter, then looked up to see the progress.
She knew who it was. There was never any mystery.
Her first thought was actually, "Oh, here comes Malfoy. At least I won't be alone."
Her second thought was, "What if it's just me and Malfoy stuck in here for the rest of my life?"
Followed by, "What if I'm immortal now and I'll be stuck with Malfoy for all eternity?"
She set that aside. The thought was too big for right now.
She watched him fill in. It was overly fascinating, but it took forever. And it was disgusting.
Bones and blood and veins and muscles and organs and skin. Layer upon layer of what makes a body alive knit together before her eyes.
Hermione was engrossed, but grossed out.
Once the skin was added she began to blush. But since no one was watching her, she continued to watch his body…all of his body. Ahem.
When his clothing was layered on, she was immeasurably relieved, because let's just say Hermione had now seen way the hell too much of Draco Malfoy.
At first he was a freaky blank swath of color, fuzzy but essentially colored correctly.
Then his clothing became more distinct, then minute details like the shine of his belt buckle, the threads on his Slytherin crest, and the polish on his shoes.
His face was last. She didn't know how much she missed it.
Anyone's face, really.
She found herself smiling so hard her cheeks hurt.
His eyes appeared, then color was layered on, then eyelashes, and irises.
His hair came in stages, first as a helmet, then individual hairs in shades of blond.
Ears and nose.
Mouth.
Complete.
But not here.
No light in his eyes.
No animation.
Not breathing.
Not blinking.
He wasn't here.
Damn it.
XXXXXXXX
Day 7
"I don't understand it, Candless. There's no way she's in here, right? I'm walking through the halls with these suspicious eyes on me, and I want to tell them all to fuck off."
"Hmm. Chin up."
"Did you hear the rumor? It's not true. Mother's so chuffed she sent me a congratulatory pixie light for Granger and access to another Malfoy vault for me. She'll be disappointed."
"Your mother wished the match? To a Mudblood?"
"Mother just wants me to be happy, the old sap. Father is not so accepting…but there's nothing to accept! It's not true."
"That is fortunate."
"What is?"
"That it's not true."
"Hmm."
XXXXXXXX
"Hi."
Hermione was so startled she slipped off her stack of books.
She looked up at Malfoy and saw him smiling down at her.
"Malfoy!" She scrambled up and was about to hug him of all things, when she caught his confused expression. "Malfoy?"
"Yes? I guess?"
"What can you remember?"
"I don't know." He showed no worry, and walked to the shelves and started perusing books.
Well, at least he can see me.
Her most recent fear had been that he wouldn't be able to see or hear her since she was never painted in. And she was technically "painted over" by bookshelves. She could move around them to the back, but she didn't like that side because there was no floor and she had to do the disorienting "floating walk" she'd developed in her first hours here.
"Do you know who I am?"
"Nope."
"Do you know who you are?"
"I guess I'm Malfoy."
"Can you remember anything?"
"How should I know?"
"Favorite color?"
He looked down, then up. "Red."
She looked down. She was wearing her red Gryffindor jumper.
"First name?" she asked hopefully.
"Mine or yours?"
"Yours."
"…It's not Malfoy?"
Damn it.
XXXXXX
Day 15
"Thank the heavens, this portrait is finished!"
"We shall meet in one week's time to complete the enchantments."
"It's almost like looking in a mirror," Draco stated in wonder.
"I am quite pleased, Master Malfoy, and hope your family will be as well."
"If they ever come see it!"
"It…it is not residing in Malfoy Manor?"
"Not this one, Candless. This one is my gift to Hogwarts for seven years of education that has nothing to do with books."
"Forgive me, maybe I'm misunderstanding. You wish to leave a part of yourself here?"
"In this room. It's been my goal to get into this room for a few years now, and now, in a way, I shall never leave it."
Candless tapped the canvas, and the newest Draco Malfoy started 'living' in his library.
Draco stared at him. Sometimes, before they were imbued with his personality, his little doppelgangers did crazy shit. One twirled until he hurled. One started pulling out his hair and had to be petrified. His three-year-old self didn't want to wear his clothing, which his mother found adorable.
This one just stood there.
How boring.
Candless excused himself and left, and Draco quickly got tired of waiting for nothing.
"Hermione?"
Draco couldn't believe he was doing this. Potter was to blame.
"I need to believe you're here, and you're not dead."
Nothing.
Not that he thought Potter was right. If he was, she'd be dead from lack of sustenance by now. And he would have tripped over her rotting corpse.
Cheerful thought.
"I don't believe she's dead."
Draco dropped his head in embarrassment. He'd almost been caught being sentimental by McGonagall.
"No?"
"No. Do you know why?"
He shook his head in misery. He wasn't feeling a lot of hope today.
The elderly professor conjured two comfy chairs and posed them before the new painting.
"Take a seat, Mr. Malfoy."
He obeyed.
"I've witnessed a new spark in you this year, Mr. Malfoy. All of your professors have. For a few months, I thought you'd somehow conscripted Hermione into helping you with your schoolwork."
"I didn't force her to do anything, and I resent the implication."
"I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm trying to explain how I think I can help you."
"Granger said that sentence to me once, almost word-for-word. I didn't take her up on it, so what makes you think I'd accept it from you?"
"I understand why you're combative. You lost something no one, not even Harry, lost. It took me months of watching you to figure out what you wanted from her."
"I just wanted…she was a target."
"She wasn't."
Draco really didn't want to be called out on his bullshit right now.
"It was purely prurient interest, and you don't want to hear about it."
"Stop…Draco…I want you to listen to me. You seem to think it's shameful to love someone-"
"I'm not in love with her! We're not betrothed!"
"I know, you silly child," McGonagall snapped. "If you'd quit jumping to conclusions and have a normal conversation, I think you'll find my opinion quite interesting."
Draco shut up.
"I'm going to speak informally, Draco."
His name did not sound right coming from her mouth.
"Ahem. This is hard to admit, but I'd like to apologize. I have spent the last two weeks monitoring Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley for the signs of grief. It did not occur to me that you may need similar monitoring. It is not that no one cares that you lost someone-"
"She's not lost." Draco was ready to passionately rebut any other opinion.
"-even temporarily. Please don't interrupt until I finish. Draco, I've witnessed you saving children from bullying and saving others from themselves. You've nudged people away from bad decisions with what I must say is subtle, effective, and inventive charms work."
She paused, and Draco couldn't look at her while she thought. He noticed the Draco in the painting pulling down books to look at and replace.
At least he's making progress.
"I've wished for a long time that you'd been one of my Gryffindors, Draco."
He winced.
"I know, that would have made you miserable, and your parents would have been baffled and disappointed. But Draco, while you were chasing Hermione around the castle at all hours, being in turns sweet and antoagonistic, I saw you helping others without prompting, without expectations, and without shame."
"That's something I picked up from Granger. I needed to prove to her that I was empathetic. It was her first requirement."
"I know. She asked my advice. She was at first terrified that you meant her harm, or you meant to harm Harry, or Ron, or really anyone on the face of the Earth."
"What exactly do you know?" he challenged.
Draco saw his plan crumbling. Surprise and forcing a vote before anyone could stop it were the cornerstones of the plan. If McGonagall knew, then surely others did, as well. If they had time to think, they had time to take precautions to keep him out, and no amount of Hermione Granger could change that situation.
"Oh, Draco, you are looking for enemies where none exist."
"There are always enemies. Some of them are my best friends."
A/N:
For those in the U.S., (and U.S. citizens elsewhere!) have a great 4th of July weekend! For our non-Americans friends, you can pretend you are for a day and have a barbeque with your friends and watch Youtube videos of fireworks.
