Chapter 10 – A Celebration of Sorts

I send out from me the spirit of the Valkyrie Gondul,

May the first bite you in the back,

May the second bite you in the breast,

May the third turn hate and envy upon you.

Hermione looked out the bedroom window of the little inn where they were staying. She watched Harry and Draco as they stood talking to two men she didn't know. What were they doing? What plans were being made for her behalf? Draco and Harry left the Inn right after breakfast this morning without telling Hermione where they were going. She didn't care too much, as she once again felt lightheaded and ill. Certain her feelings were due to her ascension, she decided it was best if she stayed at the Inn.

Not only did she have a headache, but she got very little sleep after they arrived in the early hours of the morning. When she had finally fallen asleep – in Draco's embrace – after having made love – she dreamt of shipwrecks, warrior princesses, and blood. Considering everything that had happened over the last twelve hours… surviving a shipwreck, arriving in a foreign land, and having sex with Draco Malfoy, she didn't know how she had even managed to keep her calm façade this morning while eating breakfast in the small inn's dining room.

Inside, she was a bundle of raw nerves with the thought of what was about to occur the day after tomorrow. She still didn't know what to expect, where she was to go, what she was to do. Hermione never liked going into anything unprepared, therefore, she was a bit terrified. Being frightened was another thing she hated. Then there was what happened with Draco early this morning here in this very inn. She had abandoned all rational thought, decorum, and intelligence, and had slept with him.

The entire experience unnerved her.

Outside her window, something else was unsettling to her. A celebration was beginning in the village square down below – a celebration for her. She shook her head in disgust and turned away from the window, walked over to the bed, and picked up the old black, bound book on Nordic folklore she had brought with her from her parents' attic.

Leaving the old yellowed journals on the desk, and she sat down on the bed to read.

It almost read like a piece of fiction, more than anything. The old tattered book told of nine princesses who were sent to earth by the god Odin. Written in the form of a poem, Hermione surmised that it was their job to protect over the warriors and princes during battle. By pointing their long, white swords at each man as they lay dying, the princesses (or Valkyrie) would determine who would live and who would die, and who would end up victorious in battle.

Daunting thought, that. Supposedly the last known Valkyrie ascension was over two hundred years ago. She remembered her grandmother telling her, when she was little, that she was a true fairy princess. In fact, she told her she was the LAST known fairy princess. At the time, Hermione thought her grandmother's stories, handed down from the woman's own grandmother, were fable. Now she wondered if they were something else entirely.

The description of the women in the poem closely resembled the warrior princess from Hermione's dream… long, flowing white gown, breast plated-armor glowing white, a white horse, long white sword made of something stronger than metal. She never once, when she was young, thought that these stories might be real.

She also never once knew the real reason Jonathon married her. Never, in a million years, would she imagine that he only married her to further his standing in his family and community. Thinking of it now made her angry and confused. The thought that he only married her because she might be the last of a mystical (perhaps mythical) creature made her almost glad the man was no longer around, for if he were, she would surely show him how angry she could become.

Clutching the book in one hand, her other hand went to the pocket of her sweater, where she had placed the round, golden etched medallion from her grandmother's trunk. She wanted to know what the emblem on the necklace meant, but she didn't know whom she should ask. She also wanted to find the caves with the stone etched runes where she would make her ascension. But mostly, she wanted the dull ache in her brain to cease.

Her headache started this morning when the mayor of Vanaheim joined Harry, Draco and Hermione for breakfast. He explained that the witches and wizards of Veela descent – which most of the residence of this primordial city were – had been waiting for the last Valkyrie to appear for over two hundred years. They were notified that Hermione Granger was possibly that person by none other than Devlin Halberdsen, who not only survived the shipwreck, but appeared two hours earlier than their arrival to the ancient, magical city. He had already met with the leaders of each Veela family, as well as the city elders and rulers, long before Hermione and Draco had even woken up this morning. He made a claim to the representatives of Sweden's Ministry of Magic to be named 'ghuardian' of Hermione as head of her 'family'.

Unknown to the stupid man, Draco's father had already petitioned for the very same thing before they even arrived. 'Ghuardianship' had already been given to Draco, much to Hermione's chagrin, and Halberdsen's outrage. Draco tried to assure her at breakfast that it was a measly formality. She informed him that she didn't need anyone to act as her guardian, as Harry attested when he arrived to the dining room to join them.

Harry was late to breakfast because he had made an appearance before Sweden's Ministry of Magic and with their help he questioned Halberdsen on his possible collusion regarding the shipwreck. The man feigned innocence, claiming that he too was thrown overboard, and barely escaped the wreckage with his life. Although Harry and the other British Aurors didn't believe the man, apparently his word was good as gold to the good people of Sweden. Still, Harry and the other Aurors were having the debris from the ship brought ashore so they could examine it for traces of dark magic.

It would be hard to prove that Halberdsen had anything to do with the wreckage, especially here in Vanaheim, where he was almost regarded as a godlike figure… leader of the Veela community, rich and successful. Not only that, but apparently his word was taken almost as law in this ancient city. If he said he had nothing to do with the shipwreck, she was certain everyone would believe him. Moreover, if he said that Hermione Granger was the last known Valkyrie, than to all of the people here, it was the truth, thus the celebration that was to begin at two o'clock this afternoon.

It was almost eleven now. Ignoring the ache in her head, she opened up the book and continued to read.

After reading for at least another hour, she finally placed the book in the top dresser drawer, positioned the medallion with the fine gold chain around her neck, underneath her sweater, and then she went outside. Immediately, she saw Draco standing with a group of men. He turned suddenly, as if he could feel her looking at him. Giving her a speaking glance, he turned back toward the other men. She turned her attention to the men and women setting up tents and chairs and tables in the village square.

Feeling the hair on the nape of her neck standing at attention, she turned and spied Devlin walking toward her.

"I hope you got a bit of rest this morning, cousin dear," he said with a plastic smile.

She rubbed her hand over her right eyebrow and forced herself to remain civil. "I did."

"Are you prepared for the feast today? It is in your honour, after all," he said, sweeping his hand in an arc toward the tables and chairs.

"I would prefer to spend the day in the cave where I'll make my ascension the day after next," she said, sincerely. "Then I would like to finish reading the book I brought with me."

He studied her with a guarded glance. "My dear, you've no reason to fear or worry. I won't let anything happen to you."

She took a deep breath through her nose before she replied. "I'm not sure that's your concern, Devlin." She turned to where she'd last spied Draco. He was gone. Turning back toward the other man, she said, "Good day, Devlin."

"Where are you going?" he asked as she started walking away. She didn't answer. Smiling, though he couldn't see her, she continued walking away from the man, never answering his question. Leaving behind the hubbub of the village square, she saw Draco walking toward her at last. He had a smile on his face. Conscious of staring back at him, she felt annoyed when he smiled at her. She felt even more petulant when he offered her his arm without a word.

She accepted it, and felt him lead her away from everyone else, toward the woods beyond the square. "I thought I wouldn't see you for a while," she said, to have something to say.

"Why would you think that?" he asked.

Shrugging, she had no answer.

"I saw you talking to Halberdsen," he mentioned, pulling her closer to him.

"He's being as odious as usual," she replied, stopping by a grove of elm trees. "I have a headache. May we stop walking, please?"

He reached toward her face, cupped his hand on her cheek, but before he could say the words that were on the tip of his tongue, she pulled away. "Stop that," she demanded.

Scowling, he asked, "Stop what?"

"Touching me," she replied peevishly.

Scratching his jaw, he placed both his hands behind him. "Why should I?"

"I don't want anyone to see," she answered.

"Why?" he asked, once again offering his arm to her.

She ignored his gracious offer and started walking. "I don't want anyone to think anything about us." She sensed that he wasn't following her, so she stopped walking and turned to face him. He seemed to be watching her with a gaze that was so magnetic, that she was almost drawn to him, physically. Turning on her heel (less she throws herself at him) she headed toward the small port, where their boat, "My Heart's Desire" was being unloading from a barge, piece by piece.

Sighing, she said, "There's nothing left is there? I have no clothing. If Harry hadn't run to my cabin to look for me after the first wave hit the ship, then the books and journals wouldn't have been saved, either. Good thing he snatched up my satchel at the last moment." Looking down at the clothes she had been forced to borrow from another guest at the inn, she added, "I just thought of that."

"No worries." He came to stand beside her. The heat from his body radiated to hers. "Potter already sent for more things for all of us. If he hadn't, I would have."

"Why didn't I just think of that?" Her brows drew together as she asked that question.

Draco didn't know why they were talking of clothing and things, but he didn't care, either. All he wanted to do was to distract her long enough so he could tell her what to expect at the feast tonight. He knew she didn't understand Veela customs or history. She didn't know this was a mating ceremony. He didn't know how to tell her, either. Knowing Hermione Granger, as he did, she would probably throw a tantrum, storm off somewhere, and then they would be in a fine pickle. He had to handle everything from this point on with the greatest care and ease.

Therefore, he didn't reply to her question or rambling thoughts about clothing and books and such. Instead, he reached out for her while his mind wandered to her long legs, flat stomach, and beautiful breasts. The thought of what they had shared this morning made his heart thrum out of beat in his chest. The thought of what they would share tonight, after the ceremony, as well as what they would share in the cave during her ascension, made him shiver with anticipation.

And then, there was her touch. It was electrifying. It was unlike anything he had ever felt in his life. He found it difficult to think of anything else besides the intimacy that they had shared only a few short hours before, and the intimacies that were to come.

Forcing her away from the wreckage, he wanted to get her alone to tell her what to expect later, when he found that she was leading them back toward the village green. Resigned for the moment, he once again placed her arm through his. "If we're heading back already, then I think we should go back to the Inn and get ready for the little ceremony thing they have planned in your honor. It starts at two. That only gives us an hour to get ready."

Peering at the crowd as they ventured forth, she tucked a wisp of stray hair behind her ear and let out a loud, embellished sigh as he walked them toward the inn. Weaving through a throng of people, all staring at her, made her feel even more angry and irritable than she felt earlier. "I don't want to go to a stupid party, but if I must go, I'll attend as I am, thank you."

She started toward a table and began to sit down. Leaning toward her, he reached out to pull out her chair before she could pull it out for herself. "Fine. I don't care what you wear or how you look for these people." Even though he did. He sat down beside her. "I don't want to be here, either, but the head of our Veela clan here seems to think we should play along with Halberdsen and the rest of them, at least for now. I'm inclined to agree."

"Even if I don't want to waste my time here?" she leveled. "Even if I want to go find the cave with the stone runes? Even if I feel it's more important to read more from the book I brought, and the old journals, than it is to sit among a bunch of sycophant nobodies?"

He laughed. "Yes, even then." Leaning closer to her, he brushed a long piece of hair from her shoulder, the tip of his finger touching her neck as he did. "You know, the trick is to look as bored as you can look. Ignore every last one of them. That will keep them at an arm's length."

She wanted to laugh. "Is that how you've kept everyone away from you all these years? You've acted like a snobbish hedgehog?"

He smiled. "By all means, call me names and disparage my demeanor, but yes, it's worked for me for years."

"It didn't keep me away," she found herself saying.

"Indeed it didn't," he replied in all seriousness. "Thank goodness for that."

A blush heat her face, she said, "I really think this is a waste of time."

He moved his hand from her shoulder, down to her hand, and he grasped it nonchalantly. "Actually, it's not. While we are all making merry here in the little village square, Potter is going to do some sleuthing… seeing as he's an Auror and all."

"Sleuthing?" she asked, intrigued. "Of what type? Perhaps I could help."

"You're so provoking," he said with a sigh. "Your only job here is to act the part of the last Valkyrie. Let everyone else worry about everything else." He looked at her thoughtfully.

She almost growled. He knew that she was feeling overwhelmed, but it couldn't be helped. Knowing that she hated that she was being thought of as nothing more than an unhelpful, annoying female, he felt her anger and was prepare for it, when she said, "You need to stop being condescending to me. You're not taking advantage of all I have to offer."

She turned away from Draco and frowned.

Moving his hand down her back, she turned back. He stared, achingly, into her mesmerizing brown eyes, while the smell of passion fruit and lilacs filled his senses. Not moving his eyes from hers for one moment, he responded, "No one thinks you're incapable, and you know it. It's just that you serve us better here. Besides, come tonight, you'll be without energy and feeling more tired than you've ever felt before. Believe me; the days right before your ascension can be as trying as the ascension itself. "

"And speaking of your ascension, and the party, and all, I have something to tell you." Grabbing her hand, he said, "Let's go get some air, where we can talk in peace, before we come back for the party."

"Why are you trying to get me away from here?" she asked, although she allowed him to force her to stand by grabbing his hand. He led her back toward the trees to the side of the little square.

"We have something important to discuss," he said, "And it's best if we do it away from prying eyes and ears. Likewise, I think I've found someone who knows a thing or two about Valkyries and the little necklace you're trying to hide under your sweater. She'll be here today, to help welcome you home, so to speak, but before you meet her, I need to tell you a thing or two about her. I also need to tell you about the ceremony today."

"Who is this mystery woman?" Hermione asked, reluctantly keeping her hand in his as he walked further away. "And what could you possibly have to tell me about today?"

The air around them was calm and cool, the breeze making the tops of the trees move in tandem, as the leaves began to fall earnestly from the limbs, scattering around them as they moved on a path toward the woods.

It was obvious that Hermione was going to be difficult, but this was something Draco had come to expect from her. Forcing her to rest her back against a tree, he leaned into her, caging her body with his, his arms above her head.

"The ceremony is a mating ceremony," he said quickly, hoping she was going to ignore his words as he said, "And the woman wrote the journals you have in your room."

With a look of outrage on her face, she pushed him away from her and grimaced. 'Ah, yes,' Draco thought. 'Hermione Granger is back in all her glory.'