A couple days ago, Moira and I returned from three days on Emei mountain in southwest China, where a small population of Shenyi elves live high up in the forests beyond the clouds. They infuse the dense mist that cloaks the mountaintop with elements that are thought to promote focus and healing, and of interest to us, enhance magic.
For muggles, the mist is associated with spirituality and longevity. Unsurprisingly, a symbiotic relationship has been documented between the hidden elves and muggle monks cohabiting various sacred mountains throughout Asia. According to an 11th century text by magical ecologists, Heping Wang and Hermann Rowle, Shenyi elves can only produce mist if immersed in the profound calm brought on by those seeking enlightenment, thus forming a positive feedback loop.
Magical beings have long been drawn to Shenyi elves as well, as magic also thrives in the mist. However, the presence of muggle tourism, grown exponentially in recent decades, has effectively evicted all but the most clandestine magical organisms from the sacred mountains.
Indeed, this was one of the examples Voldemort gave when promoting his vendetta. Intelligence reports say that the earliest Death Eaters, including Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange, were inducted into his service on Emei, their loyalty and zealousness cemented by the intoxicating surge of magic brought on by the mist.
On the mountain, I felt my own magic sharpen and course easily through me, such that even complex spells could be cast without a wand. It's not that I gained power; rather, I was somehow more connected to my magical core. I've spent so much of my life mulling over magical theory, read hundreds of thousands of pages on it, and prided myself on technique and memorized minutia. Then, when I was up there, everything aligned in a way that paled the precise control I'm usually so obsessed with and brought forth an incredible sense of harmony. I wasn't doing magic; I was magic and magic was me.
Tom Riddle was a clever monster, wasn't he?
All my secret burdens - my inner scars and sadness and nonsensical lust for the wrong man - faded as I breathed in and out, taking in the fog that rolled over the majestic peaks. For the first time in months, I felt at peace.
The mist's effects were undoubtedly real. Moira felt it too, and we verified the changes to our magical signatures through careful measurement. When she examined the mist through her I.D.V.L. (Inter-Dimensional Viewing Lens), she reported the presence of an unknown element which somehow remained constant despite changes in dimensionality. It was an apparent paradox. Confused, we bottled the mist and brought it back for Cornelius and Ariel to look at.
However, though we sealed the sample carefully, and though the rest of the mist was perfectly preserved, this mysterious element could no longer be detected. As a result, Alfred called a team meeting in his office to discuss our next step.
Cornelius rubbed his stubbled chin in thought. "Either the element cannot be contained by our sealing protocol, or it's simply unstable outside of the Emei environment."
"Like because of altitude or something?" Moira suggested.
"Altitude. Temperature. Oxygen levels. It could be anything, really."
"Either way," Ariel piped up. "I think it's best if we go with you back to Emei to study it in person."
"That's an excellent idea," Alfred said.
The rest of us nodded in agreement.
"I think it's best if Draco go with you as well."
My heart sank. "Why?" I asked. Based on Alfred's raised eyebrows, I'm not sure I managed to keep my voice nonchalant.
"You two have done excellent work in the beginning stages of your collaboration. I think it's best you move to the next stage, don't you?"
"The next stage?"
"Yes, for him to help you automate the quantification of magical signatures on a broader range of parameters."
It took everything to maintain my composure. I knew Alfred was doing this on purpose. Though he'd never confronted me about my reluctance to work with Malfoy, my uncharacteristic delay was hardly subtle. Thus, he was giving me an assignment here, in front of my peers, on a team project - it would be outright insubordination for me to refuse.
I felt everyone's eyes on me as I hesitated.
"I thought I might stay behind and analyze the rest of the mist," I said carefully. "We're not even sure this element has any significance."
"I disagree," Cornelius said, unhelpfully. "A paradoxical element in an elven mist that profoundly affects magical beings and muggles… Even the slight possibility of its' existence warrants investigation."
"But it could have been some kind of error on our part," Moira pointed out. "Might be a waste of time for us all to go."
"Moira Lansing and Hermione Granger BOTH being wrong? Unlikely," Ariel said, with a laugh.
My stomach was swimming with dread at this point.
"Hermione, I agree you must analyze the mist and I expect a report on your findings," Alfred said, unsmiling. "But it is imperative that you return to Emei. With Draco."
"Yes, absolutely," Cornelius agreed.
"It will be harder to blend in with the muggles if our group is larger," I tried again.
"I'm certain this lot of geniuses will figure something out, won't you?" Alfred voice was light, but he was looking at me sharply.
"Yes!" Ariel said, excitedly. "If anyone asks, we're a muggle family on vacation. The von Straplings!"
I inwardly groaned. She always got a bit carried away with backstory when it came to our rare undercover assignments.
"Cornelius and I can be parents to you darling girls. And Draco can be your boyfriend! No, fiancee! No, boyfriend is better. Oh, I've the perfect glamours in mind!"
"See?" Alfred said. "All figured out."
I wanted to argue, but any further protest would have it made painfully obvious I didn't want to work with Malfoy.
"Right." I smiled weakly and nodded. "Sure."
Later, when it was just me and Moira in my office, siphoning mist into numerous sample vials, she could apparently still sense my unwillingness.
"So, what's up with you and Draco?" she asked, abruptly.
Even though I was pondering just that, the directness of her question still caught me off guard.
"Nothing," I answered shortly.
"Hermione." She set down her vials and fixed me a pointed look. I concentrated on my sample and pretended not to notice.
"It's nothing," I insisted.
She sighed and resumed working.
"It's no secret you were the same year in school," she began after a silence.
"Yes."
"And that you were held for almost six weeks as prisoner in Malfoy Manor."
When I finally glanced at her, she looked hurt at my stony countenance. I felt bad. Moira is my closest friend in the department. Though she's only three years older than me, she's been in the department for upwards of two decades. She ties with Alfred as having been the youngest Unspeakables ever, joining at only fourteen, and was was certainly the brightest witch of her age. She's been a my mentor, teammate, and confidante. In many ways, she understands me better than Harry or Ron ever could.
So yes, I felt bad, but I couldn't give her my darkest secret, or explain to her what I didn't understand myself.
"Did he do something to you back then?" she pressed on. "Is that why -"
"No."
"If he hurt you-"
I shook my head. I couldn't speak. The kindness in her voice seemed to only enlarge the lump in my throat and expedite the now all-too-familiar tears I had on reserve for him.
She frowned. "It's not right that Alfred force you to work with someone that abused you."
I shook my head again. "He didn't do anything wrong," I managed to say without my voice breaking.
"I can talk to Alfred-"
"No, it's alright."
"Do you want me to hate him? Draco, I mean. I could you know. He's awfully poncy."
I gave her a small smile. "He is, isn't he?"
Through the lens of adulthood, it's hard to not feel that we were merely chess pieces in the tussle between Tom Riddle and Dumbledore. Back then, I was willing to give everything for our greater good - the perfect little soldier.
Ron was right. Something happened to me down in those dungeons. I thought it would be easier, now that I am older and wiser, to look back on things and see them more clearly. But as I write and write, I get muddled in interpretation. It was easier on Emei, the misty mountain air freeing me of such burdens.
Back in London however, I quickly returned to my memories of my imprisonment. I spent my alone time ruminating over patterns of lucid dreams and waking life. I obsessed over what was real versus a desperate attempt of my subconscious to protect itself. Even back in the cell, it wasn't hard to see that the dreams would only come after particularly horrendous torture sessions, except for at the end, when they came every night.
I was grateful for the dreams. I needed them. Through them, I created hope for survival. Or should I say, Draco Malfoy created hope for me?
Luna tells me to look for my truth, but I've never really liked the idea of multiple truths. Rather, I've always taken greater comfort in facts, unalterable, unarguable pillars of reality.
So here are the facts:
Fact 1. I was held prisoner for five weeks and six days at Malfoy Manor.
Fact 2. Never once during that time, did I come face-to-face with Voldemort.
Fact 3. Bellatrix Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, and numerous other masked Death Eaters took turns interrogating me, using Dark Magic and torture.
Fact 4. Severus Snape regularly examined my mind through Legillimency.
Fact 5. When I finally managed to free myself, the healers at St. Mungo's were shocked at how well-preserved I was given the obvious abuse and my having been chained to a wall for six weeks.
Fact 6. I fucked Draco Malfoy.
Fact 7. I wanted to.
Fact 8. We now work together in the Department of Mysteries.
Fact 9. At work, we pretend it never happened.
Fact 10. Thanks to Alfred Krumperdinkle, in a fortnight, I am going to be spending ten days on Emei mountain, working and sharing a room with him.
Author's note: THANK YOU to everyone who has supported the story and provided me with so much encouragement. You guys are awesome! As always, I hunger for feedback!
Ps - The "chess piece" line was totally inspired by PartyLines's amazing dramione one-shot, "Checkmate."
xoxo,
bourbonrain