"That was possibly one of the most traumatizing things I've ever experienced," Draco said, his hands buried in his hair. "And I've been crucio'd."
They were now sitting at a cafe on the East Bank. Tourists milled around on the street outside. It was nearing the end of October, but the sun had been unseasonably warm. The air conditioner had just been turned on, and the ceiling fan slowly whipped cooler air around them.
He sat, crossing his arms and then uncrossing them as the thought hit him that he looked defensive. He tried not to think about how sticking up for Muggles was what had landed him in this giant mess, but the thought reiterated itself nastily in his mind. If he hadn't tried to rebel, then he wouldn't have tried to run away from his father, and he wouldn't be here at her mercy, without a wand. He was quite literally at her mercy amidst penis-choppers. How delightful.
"Well, going back to the West Bank is out, Granger. I don't know about you, but I'm not getting within a metre of those psychos again. Even the Dark Lord didn't torture men like that."
He watched the Muggles outside the shop behave in ways that were contrary to his ideas of the norm. For example, two men in long white robes were walking arm in arm with one another and now had stopped in the middle of the road to sit on the median, their porcelain coffee cups and saucers next to them on the ground. Common knowledge told him most Muggles wore incomprehensible outfits, but he had never before seen depicted Muggles traversing public roads in nightgowns with towels on their heads. The current U.K. Wizarding Minister wore a pretty colorful outfit with a headdress and looked impressive doing it, but these didn't look anything like what he wore. And drinking in the middle of a busy thoroughfare seemed just hazardous enough to be crazy.
"I feel like there's been something off in Egypt this whole time we've been here," she said, eyes wide and leaning across the table in her excitement. He could smell some soapy fragrance drifting from her, the same kind that he had noticed just before they apparated each time. He wondered if she had discovered conditioner. If he had to hazard a guess, he would posit that the Ministry had ordered her to do something about her hair, because it had never looked so delectable in school save that one time. She had started the trip looking fairly decent for her, hair-wise, but the dip in the Nile had been less than kind there.
Still, her hair retained a soapy fragrance. It smelled clean. Fresh. He only wished he felt the same way. He felt itchy and stubbly. His hair probably looked worse than hers had in school, and that was really saying something awful. In comparison, she looked as fresh as a daisy, tan and healthy. He wondered inconsequentially if she had that delightful tan all over.
"What are you thinking about?" she was asking. "Your eyes are closed."
"Oh. Ah. Erm. Is that behavior normal amongst Muggles?" he asked, nodding at the men he noticed earlier to cover up his momentary lapse. A change of topic was definitely called for. That line of thought-it could only have come from the spectacle he had just witnessed. Erotic in a...very, very disturbing sort of way.
And it was only that he really, really wanted a bath, that was all, and she smelled clean. That was it. That was the connection. He really wasn't thinking about anything that he ought not, or trying to picture her naked, which he could just stop right now. It wasn't as though he fancied her or anything, or, Merlin forbid, chuffed by the strange performance they just witnessed.
She glanced over her shoulders. "Oh, it's just the culture here. Muggles in different places behave differently, wear different clothes. Don't wizards?"
Draco shrugged to cover up his ignorance. His parents had a list of places that were deemed acceptable to visit, and places within places that were acceptable to frequent. It was a very short list, and Draco realized for the first time how sheltered he really was. For example, how was it that Granger, a Muggleborn, had visited Luxor, the wizarding capital of Egypt, when he hadn't? It boggled the mind and was yet another thing he had to chalk up to the Malfoys' Parenting Fails.
"Or did you mean their robes? I think they're called thawbs. I like them. They look comfortable."
He did, too, rather, once he got over the culture shock. There were a lot of things he found himself appreciating about the utter slovenness of this country. For example, the fact that he looked like an absolute gypsy. Back home, he wouldn't have been caught dead looking half as disgusting as he now looked. Here, nobody spared him a second glance. He wondered if, as a child, he had allowed more freedom, he wouldn't have been so averse to grime and dirt as his mother definitely was. He wondered about a lot of things, in the few days he had been here.
He wondered how his mother would react if he came home sporting one of those, complete with the headband and thingamabob towels.
That was, if he ever managed to get home.
"This trip was an abysmal failure," he finally decided to sulk. Sulking was easy. Open-minded tourism was not. "We couldn't get inside the capital, and what we could see of it was either deserted or filled to the brim with mad witches."
"There wasn't a infinitus balteum in place five years ago," she said thoughtfully. "Unless…"
"Yes?" he prompted, uneasily.
She sat still in her seat for a moment, staring down at the table and blinking every so often with a little furrow between her brows.
"What do you think was happening back there?" she asked, finally looking up. He realized that while he had been envisioning the worst possible scenarios, Hermione Granger had been sitting across from him, getting a sort of gleam in her eyes that he realized with alarm was excitement. Salazar give him strength, the mad witch was actually enjoying all of this-the poor, toilet paper-less accommodations aboard the boat, the tacky decor of this poverty-stricken cafe, the general unhygienic ambience of this entire misbegotten trip. He sincerely hoped it was those things and not the idea of cutting off male extremities that was getting her juices revving.
As for him, the first thing he planned to do when he returned home was to burn the clothes he was wearing and soak in a scalding bath with scourgifying foam charms for three days straight and maybe obliviate some images from his scarred brain. Then, maybe he could finally have a private chuckle at this whole misbegotten operation.
But that would be far and away back home. Safe in England.
"Are you kidding me, Granger?" he said, turning incredulous eyes on her as though she had completely lost the plot. "Did you not see the same thing I did? Were you not there when the bloke was getting his...you know...chopped off and stuffed inside her like she was basting a blasted turkey?"
"It's strange, isn't it? They're clearly a group of wizards. She raised her wand at the end and reattached the...you know...back on."
"It's never going to work right again, just so he knows," Draco groused. "It's best as nature originally intended."
"Well, aside from the shock that statement just gave me, especially coming from you, why would you say that? The whole point to magic is that it can reverse wounds."
"Granger, I'm assuming you didn't know a Death Eater named Peter Pettigrew, who sacrificed a hand to the Dark Lord. It was later rejuvenated, but it was basically made of steel and looked like a corpse hand."
"You're wrong, I did know him. Or I met him once. He was an animagus."
"Right," Draco said, narrowing his eyes as he sought the original point of their conversation. She took a little too much pleasure in telling him off, which he would have something to say at any other time than right this very minute. It was quite possible that he would start hallucinating at any point now, not having had proper accommodations to rest for more than two days now. Or three. Two and a half?
"What do you think they were saying?" she said, eyes thoughtful.
"What? Oh, the ritual. At the end, she said something about the rise of Horus, if I'm not mistaken. That last bit was recited in Latin, which is strange, if you consider it. Wouldn't Ancient Greek be closer to the original version? They were first to conquer this region, after all. The Romans came later."
"I knew it had something to do with the Sons of Horus!" she exclaimed triumphantly, and then lowered her voice after she cast a surreptitious look around. He rolled his eyes at her belated discretion. "And the falcons. It all makes sense, sort of."
"Pray tell," he said dryly, but doubted he could stop her.
"The Sons of Horus. Horus and Set-" she started to say.
"Just so you're aware, you don't need to give me a three day thesis on Egyptian history, as that was already covered in Professor Binn's class, shoddy as that was," he cut in. Sure, he may have traveled less than this uncultured Muggleborn, but he knew a thing or two, if only in theory.
"I'm just trying to give you the background," she said. "Since most people don't actually read the book. Plus I found it to be limited, geographically."
"I'm not 'most people,' by which I take to mean Potter and Weasley. I assure you, I did the assigned reading and the extracurricular reading for that class."
"You did the extracurricular reading?"
Her incredulity was insulting. "Granger, it was schoolwork. And there was extra credit for the extra parts. Of course I did the reading." Then he realized that her incredulity wasn't directed at him but meant something else. He snorted. "Tell me again why you were friends with those two? I know why they were friends with you. Without you, they probably wouldn't have been able to find their classrooms by themselves. Didn't they get lost trying to find the bloody train once? I mean, the train." He sniggered, reminiscing in the good laugh he had at their account back in the day.
Her grimace was the only sign she heard him. "Well, the ritual-grotesque as it was-was clearly trying to recreate the conflict between Osiris and Set, and the steps Isis went to to find her husband. Osiris was already in pieces, hacked and dispersed by his brother Set, by the time Isis-his wife and sister-found him. She was only able to find his, er, male member, and reanimated it long enough to impregnate herself-thus, the rise of Horus."
He made a face in response.
"Did you remark his body, how there were lines all over it, to recreate the "being hacked into pieces' bit? I'm really glad they didn't try to recreate that part." She shuddered.
"So, are they bringing back Horus then?" he asked. "Like how Voldemort came back? Because that was an unmitigated disaster."
She stared at him in horror. "Oh my gosh, I hadn't even considered that. I was just thinking this is how they imbue their followers with power or whatever."
Draco rolled his eyes. "There are other ways to get power than to cut off a wizard's favorite wand. It must be considered the ultimate sacrifice."
"Oh, I need to notify Harry at once." She bit her lip. "Should I send a patronus? No, I couldn't possibly relay the magnitude of the situation properly. No, you're right, I should get back and show the Aurors my memories. You too, Draco. Why don't they use floos here?!"
Draco started at the sound of his name, but it seemed as though she wasn't even aware what she had said. In fact, she sounded more as though she were talking to herself, but out loud. The old Draco would have grasped at this opportunity to make fun of her, but the slightly wiser Draco decided that any information he had was better than none and decided to pick his moments.
"Why did that very strange man take us there instead of to the capital?" he asked when her verbal thoughts began to wind down.
"To be fair," she said thoughtfully. "He told us he was taking us to where the wizards were. We didn't listen closely enough, apparently."
"What I want to know is whether or not the capital is still standing, and whether those...witches...will still be guarding the entrance like a flurry of Furies."
"That really depends, I think. I heard from the Aurors that a few years ago that there was a major dissension within the Egyptian wizarding community, which might have been what Mohamed was talking about-the effects were so far-flung that even Muggles felt it. They're one of the oldest but also least populated countries worldwide, and the rift between those who follow Set's teachings and Horus's teachings have only widened with time, with Horus, of course, having the majority of supporters."
"Putting aside the utter ridiculousness of that statement, given what we just saw, I've always felt that there was a connection between that and his followers being slightly more educated," he said. "Of course, that theory is being put paid to after today."
She tilted her head in thought. "Hmm... that's an interesting theory and not too far off, possibly. You mean, because they are more capable of spreading his teachings?"
"So to speak. They're more capable of creating lasting propaganda." He was an expert on the subject of brainwashing and propaganda, having been a fun juvenile Death Eater experiment himself back in the day.
"Well, that's true. And I have noticed that the God of War has a similarly poor reputation in Greek and Roman history, which happened to be the subsequent conquering empires. And it's quite possible that the ritual today is limited to a select few, with the highest Priest being the, er, lucky one."
"Likely the same gods and myths recycled to solidify power over the conquered," Draco said dryly. "It's easier to control people if they believe in similar things. All they have to do is transfer their sheeplike adoration to the next controlling entity." He knew all about the mentality of the solidifying power and sheeplike behavior. Lord Voldemort had espoused varying reiterated beliefs that had all the Deatheaters jumping on the bandwagon without a second thought. Recycled ideas were the best way to begin a coup. And Draco, of course, had been trained from infancy to obey those in power.
"Exactly! Conquering empires always try to assimilate the conquered into their culture by incorporating the conquered's religions or ideas or holidays, which were usually the case. Set has such a bad reputation that Ares, and then Mars, display the same negative back stories. And it's even more jarring when you take into consideration that the Greeks, in order to promote their own military campaign, have Athena, the wise goddess of war! They needed to retain the disdain for war and disorder from the old world, yet promote their own agenda in the new empire. Thus the need to separate the two by using gender. God, there are so many papers that could be written on this." Granger was so excited talking about her swotty ideas that she was almost bouncing in her seat. She was also getting a fanatical light in her eyes.
It made him almost want to laugh.
"Clearly Set was much maligned and his opponents set on ruining his legacy forever," he agreed.
"Yes, I've always felt so!" She gave a happy sigh and looked at him with bright eyes. "I must say, Malfoy, I didn't expect that you of all people would appreciate my theory."
He narrowed his eyes. She sure had a knack for getting his back up. Seeing his expression, she hastily continued, "I mean, we've never discussed such things before... is why. Not that I was doubting your intelligence or anything."
He gave her a look that translated into "good save. Not." "Horus is the god of vengeance. I'd say that ruining your rival's legacy for all eternity would fall right under the category of vengeance. After all, that was the goal of immortality." He knew all about trying to attain immortality too. For a group with such longevity, he wondered why wizards wanted still more time alive.
She hummed in happy agreement. "Anyway, Set's followers gradually recouped their numbers in the last century, but a few years ago, there was a major dispute that turned into a regional must have been what Mohamed was talking about," she said in a low voice. "The falcons that filled the night. Horus's followers use falcons as familiars. As a ritual, the recreation of his conception should imbue Horus's followers with renewed powers. Especially considering that Osiris was a fertility god."
"Granger, I hope to Merlin's hairy armpits that you haven't landed us into another war zone," he drawled. "I don't know about you, but I've had enough of fighting to last me a lifetime."
"I don't think we are," Granger said in a small enough voice to alarm him. "The Ministry would have issued a warning and..."
He raised an eyebrow as she trailed off and bit her lip. "What?"
"I didn't apply for a portkey," Granger confessed. "I flew. The Muggle way. I thought that because I'd be going on several tours that they would need to see my passport, and I didn't fancy having to obliviate and confund my way through Egypt. It'd be really strange if I didn't have an entry stamp. So I wouldn't know if the Ministry has a regional warning in place. That's the purview of the Department of International Magical Cooperation."
He heaved a giant sigh. "Well, that's just bloody fantastic. I'm up the river without a wand. Literally. How were you planning on returning to England?"
"Um. Fly? By airplane, that is, not broom."
"Curse it, Granger, I hate to sound self-absorbed here but what about me, hmm? I know you don't have to give a damn about me, but how the hell am I supposed to get out of here?"
He hadn't meant to complain to her, but he was about to fling his fists towards the skies and moan. So much for rebelling. So much for independence and independent thought. He should have stuck to going to the new Muggle souvenir shop and calling it a day. Instead he had to make a grand gesture. Now he had quite possibly landed himself in a war zone with his nemesis, no less, and now was at her mercy for a toothbrush. Howling at the fates didn't seem too extreme a reaction.
"We can, um, create our own portkey," she said in a low voice.
"What's that?" he asked, frowning. "Did you just suggest making an unauthorized portkey?"
She shrugged and looked pointedly back at him. "Do you have a better idea?"
"No," he said, shaking his head and gazing at her in reluctant admiration. "You know how to make a portkey." It was a cross between a statement and question.
"Well, I've only done it once," she admitted. "Almost a decade ago. We didn't end up using it, but I studied the concept and the spell."
"Of course you did," he said with a snort. "You know it's illegal. The Ministry can revoke your wand for it."
Now she was the one who shook her head. "They can't. They don't have a way of tracking who makes portkeys. They can't track portkeys. Not really."
He laughed. "You're kidding me. Then how is it people aren't making portkeys willy-nilly?" Now that he thought of it, the Dark Lord had a rather large and bottomless collection of portkeys. That probably explained his ability to apparate seemingly without end within the span of a few hours. Draco suddenly had an image of the Dark Lord cackling with glee as he vanished and reappeared before his minions with uncommon ease. The wizard probably enjoyed thinking up ways to befuddle his followers.
"There are very specific rules to making them," she said. "If most people can't brew a felix felicis, then they aren't able to make a portkey."
"Right," he acknowledged. "So how do you go about making one, oh knowledgeable one?"
"First, you can stop with the sarcasm. Second, you have to be in a specific place to do it. There's a specific time of the month to make one for long distance travel, and this week just happens to fall within that window. And the object has to be one that resonates with the place."
"I know all this," Draco said impatiently. "Are you going to tell me the big secret behind the different locations or what? I'm the one that needs to go back to Britain. In case you haven't noticed, my skin is suffering in this climate."
"Ley lines," she said in an even lower voice so that he had to lean forward to hear. "The portus spell can only be cast in an intersection of ley lines. And I know the most important ones."
He raised his eyebrows and stared at her. Now that was a big secret. Ley lines were a closely guarded secret in the wizarding world, and one stumbled upon it in the same way that ye olde days had utilized divining rods for water. He knew that they were used for various other dark spells, but the fact that they were used for such a supposedly simple spell was almost ridiculous. His father had even gone through a period of time investing in buying land containing an abundance of ley line intersections.
"Granger, sometimes you're scary, d'you know that?" he drawled. "How the bloody hell do you know this stuff? Even I don't know the particulars of that specific spell. It's a well-guarded secret in the Ministry. My father always thought it was a way for the Ministry to put a tax on international travel."
"Well, much as I would hate to give your father any credit at all...but, he's not wrong. And, as for your other question, I have a talent for research," she admitted, giving a shrug and a little laugh.
He realized that he had just given her what was almost a compliment. Still, he supposed she deserved it, bailing him out of his own mess and just being a general brilliant swot in times of crises. Her cheeks were pink and she looked decidedly-yes, he was just going to go out there and think it-pretty.
Well, why not? He could think it, as long as he wasn't saying it out loud.
"Clearly," he said out loud. "Why aren't you working in the Department of Mysteries?"
"They go insane down there," she said. "Didn't you know? They spend so much time near the veil that they lose track of time and reality."
"Well, go on about the ley lines. Intersection of ley lines, yes?"
Now she was leaning forward too. Draco realized that they were so close over the small circular table that their hands were only a few inches from one another. He was so close note that he could itemize the scents coming from her hair. It was a strange mixture of soap and...clean air and rain? Most odd.
"-have to be made in an intersection of three or more ley lines. There are only a handful of those in Britain. The most prominent one is-"
"Within the Ministry?" he guessed, frowning to give the impression he had been attending the whole time.
"Exactly. Well guarded."
"What about Egypt?"
She tucked a curl that had fallen out of her ponytail behind her ear. He followed her gesture with his eyes. Up close, her hair didn't look frizzy but rather soft and puffy, like cotton growing in the field.
"That's the fascinating thing about the Mediterranean," she said, getting that glitter in her eyes again that made them glow like amber. Or like the Dark Lord's eyes, he corrected himself. "People have posited that the Mediterranean was such a hotspot of civilizations because of its weather, but there's such a profusion of ley lines here."
"Power," he said. "The dominion of ley lines over several centuries could accrue magical power." He was impressed with just how much she knew and had culled from reading. Salazar knew, they all had access to the same books, but nobody linked information together like Hermione Granger.
"Kind of a pity though, about that man," she mused. "The sacrificial goat."
"Obviously," he said and then frowned. "Why? I mean, aside from the obvious."
"Well, from his girth, it was kind of a pity. And it was a rather attractive dick as well."
Draco spit out his coffee. "Granger!"
She gazed innocently back at him. "What? I'm just saying, he had an impressive… size. Cutting that off was a shame. Not to mention he seemed like he knew what he was doing."
Draco was speechless. And blushing.
"What?" she asked and rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you're a virgin. All that talk about sex was just a front."
Draco glanced furiously around before responding in a low hiss. "I am not a virgin, alright?"
"Then why are you acting like such a prude?" she asked and then her eyes softened. "Not that there's anything wrong with being a virgin. Poor Draco. No wonder you're so angsty all the time."
Hearing the words virgin and Draco from her prissy little mouth was doing odd things to him. He was definitely feeling a little angsty. And so he lied. "I'm not angsty! And it has nothing to do with…anything! Least of all my sex life, which is extraordinarily active, I'll have you know. Extremely so."
"Hmm," she replied, looking unconvinced in a way that should have infuriated him, but instead made him want to blush like a little girl. "Anyway, do you think the ritual-"
"No, you're not going to 'hmm' at me in that way and change the subject. Let's go, right now! On this table!"
"Oh, calm down," she said. "Obviously, I was having a go at you. You have a girlfriend, remember?"
Draco gaped at her for a moment before snapping his jaw shut. "Right. Yes. I do. With whom I engage in very acrobatic intercourse. All the time."
"Anyway, I just realized how much of a female empowerment this whole Horus group is. The majority of the followers there were women. And, well, let's just say that I'm probably not the only woman who's dreamt about lopping off a man's bits."
Draco jaw dropped again. "What?" Fucking hell, she was just determined to give him a heart attack today, on top of everything he had already gone through. One minute, she was talking about another man's penis for all like she was more experienced than he was-and she definitely was not and could not possibly be. The next, she had changed the subject and was talking about female empowerment, which she then used as a lead-in to castration.
She made an equivocating gesture with her hand. "You know. If some man is particularly foul or loathsome."
Draco was too busy staring at her in dismay. Foul? Loathsome? He was getting a chill down his spine at the adjectives. He cleared his throat. "For the record, I am not the same person I used to be in school. I hope you've noticed that."
"What-? Oh. You're thinking-Look, it's just a manner of speech. I'm not going to do any lopping," she said and then flashed him a disturbing grin.
Draco rubbed both hands on the sides of his neck and opened up his jaw until he felt it pop. "Merlin, Granger. I used to pity Weasley in how he clearly was always trying to ingratiate himself with you, romantically, and not succeeding in the least, but now I think he got off lucky. Since you clearly have issues."
"I'm just stating the fact that I get why they have such a large following. Their religion or cult, whatever, has a large support base of women. Isis. She's the one actively working to bring back the man. She saves him. Sort of. In the original version, obviously."
"Through the use of her womb?" he replied, trying to follow her on her tangents. Maybe he had underestimated Potter and Weasley all those years ago. Maybe they always walked around looking slack-jawed because they hung out too long with this witch. "That's the same tale perpetuated in various myths around the world. I would posit that this idea devalues women, in reducing their only value to what physicality men do not have. There's surely more to females than that."
This time, it was Granger's mouth that dropped open. "In all my life, I had never expected Draco Malfoy to be a female rights advocate."
"Well, why not? I was only a blood purist, not a chauvinist."
"Was, huh?" she said, looking him over in amusement.
"Well, I think your extremely compelling arguments about lopping have managed to sway me."
This time, when she laughed, every part of his brain, and not just the small section that got pummeled by the larger consensus, thought it: Hermione Granger was really very pretty.
