Chapter 7 – What is Fear?
How awful it is to be without,
As blood-red racks races overhead,
Is the welkin gory with warrior's blood,
As we Valkyries war-song chanted.
Draco found Hermione right as she reached the end of the narrow hallway, leading to one of the only three chambers intended for sleeping. "Where are you going?" he asked impatiently.
Standing passively beside the outer door, she said not a single word. Therefore, he said not another word as he approached. He merely offered his hand to her, in which she looked at with disgust. Shouldering past him, she stormed back down the hallway, back up the steps, and back out of his sight.
What was he going to do with her? He wanted to think that her outlook would be rosy and bright, but he was as unsure of everything as she was, so he could offer her no reassurance. Walking up the narrow, wooden steps, he found her leaning against a railing, her long curly hair blowing out behind her like a brown falcon about to take flight. Walking to her slowly, he stopped when she said, "Now you know my fatal weakness."
Stepping beside her, next to the railing, he leaned his arms on the top rail, but turned his face to hers. "You only have one?"
Giving him an amused look, she said, "Fine, I suppose I have many. But the worst of them all is that I tend to run away when I'm afraid."
Looking at the gentle slope of her jaw and neck, her back bent in defeat, he replied, "I've never know you to run away from anything in your life – until now."
"True," she agreed, angling her body toward his. "Until now. It seems I've never really known a personal fear until now."
Laughing – although he found nothing funny in that statement – he stood upright and closed his eyes. "And fear makes you run away." It was a statement, a fact, a weakness in her eyes.
"Yes." She turned to face the dark waters again, her hands gripping the top railing for support. "I ran below deck and tried to Disapparate away, but found that I couldn't." In desperation, she turned back to him, her eyes blazing like fire. "I wanted to run away from this uncertain future, but I fear that I was unable to do so. I'm so tired, weak, and out of sorts. Even my magic is failing me, just when I need it the most."
Letting his hands rest on the railing beside her, his small finger resting against her index finger, he too stared out at the dark, crippling waters. "Now that's scary." He said it lightly. "Very scary indeed."
Looking up at him, she asked, "Are you making fun of me?"
He turned to her. "Not at all. But shall I tell you the different between fear and being scared?"
"There's a difference?" She cocked her head to side and waited patiently for his explanation.
"I think so." He swallowed, turned her to face him, his hands on her shoulders. Even in the dark of night, in cold choppy waters, with only a sliver of the moon affording them light, he could tell her eyes were shining brightly at him, emitting a sort of fear and apprehension that he had never seen from her before. It made him feel protective of her. It actually broke his heart.
Rubbing his hands up and down her upper arms, he said, "Being scared is a momentary thing, but it passes. There are usually reasons for being scared, but the reasons aren't so very hard to conquer. Now fear, it's usually unfounded. It's based on the unknown. It leaves a person feeling conquered, and it feels as if you'll never overcome it. But in the end, fear is baseless. It may feel real in the moment. It may take root in your heart, your brain, your soul, but a truly brave person can overcome any fear, at any time, because they know all of this."
She frowned. "What a load of hogwash. Fear and being scared are the same things, Draco Malfoy."
He frowned back at her. "See if I ever try to be profound with you again, Hermione Granger." Squeezing her arms tighter, he added, "With fear, you come to realize that the entire time you're feeling it, you still know you have to face it when it beckons to you. You know that it could consume you, invade your heart. If you let it do that, Granger, you'll be lying to yourself. If you let it think it can overcome you, instead of you overcoming it, then it's already won. You have to face your fears head on, little love, conquer them, and then after they finally leave you, you idly wait for the slight, little feeling of being scared to follow. Once it comes, you'll know what you're up against, you'll know if it's real or make believe, and you'll face it head on."
"Draco," she responded softly, "What if I tell you I'm afraid? Where does that fit in your soliloquy over the debate of being scared over feeling fear? I'm just afraid, Draco. That's all. Aren't I allowed to feel afraid once in my life?"
He wanted to slam his fist through a wall, but there were no walls around them. He wanted to pull her to his chest and hold her, but she was standing so rigid and ramrod straight in his grip that he knew she might run away at any moment. Dark strands of her hair whipped all around her face in the night wind, making her seem somehow more fragile, and yes, afraid. He fought for control of the situation, but he felt a visceral need to bring his mouth down to hers, abandoning all other forms of communication, except for that elusive one between man and woman.
As if she could read his mind, and the battle being raged therein, she reached up with one cold, shaky hand, and placed the palm directly on his cheek. Her fingers drifted softly, slowly, deliberately down to his jaw and then back up again. He reached for her face the next moment, his touch tentative but true. Cradling her face in his palm, he tilted her head back so he could stare in her eyes. She closed them just as he did.
"Tell me what you want me to do, Granger. Tell me what you want me to say. I'm at a loss."
Eyes still closed, she said, "Just answer one question. Tell me that the way I feel for you right now, and the way you seem to feel for me, is real. Relieve this one fear from my mind."
He could tell her a thousand and one things, but none of them would truly answer her question. None of them would remove the fear he saw when she opened up her eyes. None of them would take away the fear that he felt, either.
Instead of talking, he placed an arm around her shoulders and started toward the steps in the darkness. Just as he was about to usher her back down the steps to the cabin assigned to her, he saw Halberdsen leaning against the other side of the boat. Giving the man a speaking glance, he placed a hand on Hermione's lower back as they started down the stairs.
The passageway was narrow and dark. They walked to the cabin at the end. Reaching in front of her, he opened the door and walked her inside, following directly behind her. The cabin was compact, with a single bunk, a desk, and a cupboard. Her suitcase sat on the floor by the bed. Fearing he was making a colossal mistake, or misreading her needs and wants, he felt he had to make his intentions clear, one last time.
And in a way, he would finally be answering her question. Were the feelings they were sharing real? Turning her around to face him he said, "I've never felt this way toward another human being in my life. What I feel is very real. But only you can answer as to your own feelings."
The air around them was fraught with tension. "I'm filled with doubt and fear, as I said, Malfoy. If this is a mistake, I'll answer for it later in so many ways. I'm going into all of this, including whatever this is with you, with blinders on, and I don't like that." She trembled slightly, her voice hitched at the end. "Please, Draco, just help me get through tonight, and we'll worry about the rest of it later."
The anguish in her voice nearly shattered him. His mind began to race. What did she want? What did she expect from him? The rational side of his brain told him that they both already knew the answers to those questions. Reaching out a hand, he combed his fingers through silky, dark curls. Tension flowed between them in the silence that followed. He knew if he gave in to her tonight, it could only help dispatch her fears as to what was about to happen in two days time.
It would also help relay his fears.
But mostly it would mean there was no turning back for either of them. With that one fact glaring brightly in his brain, he knew, deep in his soul, he knew, that was the answer to her question. That was an answer to her fear. If they faced the night together… truly together, there was no possible way either could go back to how things were before.
Taking her hand in his, he edged her over to the small bunk, not much wider than a single bed, and he helped her to sit. Kneeling before her on the floor, he looked closely at her, intently, waiting for a final sign.
Gradually, cautiously, like a small bird approaching a predator, she reached out her hand, touched his hair as he had touched hers minutes ago, closed her eyes, and leaned closer. Touching her forehead to his, she turned her head to the side and kissed him.
It was so utterly sweet, honest, and daring. He rather felt like shouting for joy. Her hand moved from his hair to his face as she leaned away from him.
So far, his hands had been resting by her hips on the bed, but the look on her face after she kissed him gave him encouragement. Moving closer, his knees touching the bottom of the bunk, he reached for her hand on his face, cupped it in his hand, and turned it palm side up. Bringing it to his mouth, he kissed her wrist first, a gentle slide of lips on skin, then he glanced back into her eyes. Seeking unmistakable permission in their depths, he brought her hand back to his mouth, kissing the middle of her palm.
The pulse under his thumb was beating wildly. He smoothed his finger back and forth over the soft skin covering the thin, blue veins there. Keeping her hand in his, he dropped their hands on her lap, then moved to sit beside her on the small bed.
She leaned over and placed her head against his shoulder in an act of resolution. He ached to touch her more… kiss her more… show her love in some capacity. Tonight was for comfort. Nothing more. "What do you want me to do?" he asked a final time.
She replied softly, "I don't know."
Neither moved for the longest time, although desire was thick between them. He finally dropped her hand, to move his arm around her shoulders. She turned to look at him and she smiled.
He decided right then he was going to kiss that smiling mouth. Moving closer, he did.
She moved her head to the left as his lips touched hers. He sought her mouth with urgency, moving it in a smooth, prolonged kiss. He reached out for her tongue, touching his to hers, and he moaned. Her hands went back to his scalp, pulling at his hair, so he bent his head and kissed his way down her neck, tenderly, reverently, and with every intention of coming back up to her sweet mouth at the end. He stopped to take a final look at her face, wondering if she was smiling again.
She wasn't.
He stopped completely when he saw there were tears in her eyes. Tears covering dilated pupils, full of desire, want and damn it all to bloody hell, fear. The air around them grew cold and stale, as all the blood rushed to his ears. He couldn't even speak. He dare not move.
He wanted to shake her. Exhaling a ragged breath with a curse, he said, "Just rest, Granger. Morning will come soon enough. I'll just stay here and hold you until we reach the shores of Sweden. Will that be alright?"
She nodded. Maneuvering them both, he stretched across the top of the bunk, pulling her close to his side. Kissing her temple, he said, "Rest, little love. There's nothing to fear right now. We'll handle the next two days together."
He would simply hold her, even though it would test all his resolve. For once, he had to show courage in the face of fear – something he wasn't accustomed to doing. He had to be strong for her, so even though merely holding her all night was almost more than he could bear, he would do it. For her.
With her head resting on the top of his chest, her hand tucked under her cheek, she said, "Thank you, Draco. I think this is just what I needed."
He mumbled, "Yeah, I'm damn saint. Go to sleep. I'll be here." He knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep anytime soon, but she needed to, because there were going to be more dangers and FEARS facing them when they finally reached Vanaheim.
Feeling exhausted and depleted, Hermione finally dropped off to sleep, when a loud sound, perhaps a clap of thunder, ripped through the night, causing her to sit upright on the bed, moving from the safe harbor of Draco's arms.
He sat up a second after her. The roaring sound become louder, more pronounced. Hermione stood from the bed and glanced around the nearly dark cabin. She was about to ask Draco what was happening, when she felt the floor under her feet shaking. Hearing men scream, she spun around to face the door, and at that moment she was knocked off her feet by a tremendous force of water.
Darkness and despair filled the small cabin. She reached out blindly for Draco, but was soon tossed under water again, where she was blinded by darkness.
Her head floated back up above the water, but she couldn't tell if she was still in the cabin, or if the boat was upside down, and she didn't know where Draco was. Feeling desperate, she gulped for air, her lungs expanding with the force, just as a flailing hand reached out for her in the darkness.
She held onto the person for dear life, floating back down, bobbing back up, smothering and gasping. Coughing and spluttering, she felt her head hit a beam, and without another conscious thought she felt herself slip from her savior's grasp, and sink deep into water.
The next time she became conscious of anything, she was aware of water lapping at her clothes, heavy and cold. Pieces of debris… wood, deck chairs, a broken desk, floated past her. Her mind felt blank from the shock of it all, her chest burning as sweet air replaced the water. She struggled, but the water continued to push at her.
Then, another loud roar, louder than the first sound, surrounded her, just as a large wave of black water rolled toward her. She realized she screamed, and as she did, she gasped as water filled her mouth and lungs again.
This was fear. Cold. Dread. Fear. As she struggled to push her way back up to the air, someone reached for her waist. A hard form pulled her to him, as another wave broke over them.
She knew in that instant she was going to die. That was her last, conscious thought.