Thank you, my lovely, darling readers! You are making this such a pleasure for me—and I hope that it continues to be a pleasure for you! Let me know if that is so, and enjoy! (The song in this section is called Mrs. Brown's Lullaby, from the film Nanny McPhee)
VVVVVVVV
DAY FOUR
HERMIONE
"The sky looks different today," I commented as the morning wind blew through my hair and rattled the barley.
"No it doesn't," Draco griped from behind me. "Looks the same as it did yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that…"
"No, look," I insisted, stopping to point up at a narrow band of cloud. "See that? That's different—it looks like a carpet."
Draco stopped beside me and gazed up at it.
"Is that supposed to entertain me?" he said flatly.
"You need entertaining?" I gave him an incredulous look. He rolled his eyes.
"Either that or I want to get out of here," He put his hands on his hips. I winced. Yes, he was talking to me—which was an improvement—but he was talking about getting out. Already. Probably because the scary forest wasn't right in front of us anymore.
"Erm…" I struggled to think of something to distract him sufficiently to forget about escaping—but one that also didn't sound stupid. "What if we…What if we walked straight north—or whatever direction that is—until we almost can't see the willow anymore?"
"Why?" he gave me a funny look.
"Well…to see if either of us smacks our faces on a wall?"
I waited, trying to hide my wince, worried about his reaction—but from the clarity that came into his eyes, I knew right away he thought my idea had merit. He nodded once and turned north.
"Fine. Better than wandering in circles, anyhow."
"Right." I set myself. "Let's go."
And we did. We walked and walked, trudging through some sections of barley that hardly came up to our knees, and others that rose up to our ears—which was odd. Every now and then, we would stop and glance back, making certain we could still see our willow. Then we would head off again. But I was careful not to think about ways to get out of here—because if I did, I had the sneaking suspicion we might suddenly wind up in another nightmare.
The sun rose high above us, and the wind blew stronger the further we went, messing up our hair and clothes. But it smelled earthy and divine.
"That's it, then," I finally said, after glancing over my shoulder.
"What?" Draco stopped.
"I can barely see it," I said, squinting back at the tree. Draco shook his head.
"There is no way on the planet that the Room is this big."
I shrugged.
"I've walked in this field and felt like I've gone nowhere at all," I sighed. "It's a trick, you know."
"A stupid one."
I glanced at the sky.
"The sun is going down. We'd better go back."
"Fine," Draco said—and broke into a run.
"Hey!" I yelped, but he didn't stop. So, my heart rate skyrocketing, I began to run as well.
We pelted through the barley, and it whipped past us, shaking beneath our feet and chattering when it hit our legs. I caught up to Draco, he glanced over at me, and suddenly it was a race.
I am competitive to the death. But so was he—I knew that from watching Quidditch. He lowered his head and lengthened his strides. I did the same.
All at once, we were flying down a hill—a hill I did not remember climbing before—and then up another short one, and then down another. I let loose a scream as I accelerated to the edge of my control, my arms flailing out before I hit the bottom and started up again. At any moment, either of us could catch our toe on a root and go sprawling.
"Come on Granger, you ninny," Draco mocked, dashing ahead of me.
"I am not a ninny!" I shouted back. "I can't help it if your legs…are…so…long!"
We burst over the crest of the next hill, and he laughed at me. I crowed—it was more like a shriek—as I overtook him, and then—
Draco yelped. And fell on his face.
I skidded to a stop and whirled around just in time to see his white head disappear into the waves of barley. I burst out laughing.
"Brilliant! Brilliantly done." I stopped, pressing my hand to my chest, trying to catch my breath. He didn't answer. I hesitated. "Are you okay?"
Then he swore very colorfully—his voice sounded strained. I stopped being amused.
"Draco?" I hurried back toward him, hoping I wouldn't trip over him. Then, he got up. Sort of.
He staggered to his feet, grimacing, grabbing his hand to his right knee and putting all his weight on his left foot. Pieces of straw stuck out of his hair.
"What happened?" I gasped, coming up to him. He swore again, stumbled sideways and then pointed down and behind him.
"That blasted thing has broken my ankle," he gritted. I looked past him, and narrowed my eyes.
It was a door in the ground. A maroon-colored, square, hatch-like door made of wood, with a brass handle. I stepped toward it.
"Are you sure you want to do that?" Draco warned, already realizing what I was thinking of. I paused. Then I braced myself.
"Certainly. What could happen?"
He choked.
"Er…I won't even dignify that with a comment."
I knelt down, and grasped the cool brass handle.
"Granger, really…" Draco hopped backward two steps. "You shouldn't—"
I pulled it open. The hinges squeaked. I gazed down into the small, square-shaped hole beyond. I smirked.
"Be careful not to get bitten by this venomous box," I said, reaching down inside and pulling out a wide, flat-ish box and holding it out for Draco to see in the sunlight. He stared at it.
"It's a chessboard," he said. I nodded, then looked back down into the hole. The bottom and sides of the hole looked like wood. Otherwise, it was empty.
"Anything else?" Draco leaned closer. I shook my head.
"No. Just this."
"Brilliant," Draco muttered. "What are we supposed to do with that?"
"I think it's pretty obvious, don't you?" I said, shutting the door and standing up to face him. I canted my head and gave him a defiant look. "I'm going to beat you so badly you won't know what happened to you."
His eyes went wide.
"What—You think you can beat me at chess?"
"Oh, no—I know so," I replied, tossing my hair, and stepping past him toward the willow, which was not a hundred meters away. I heard him crash through a bit of the barley, then swear again.
"Blast it, Granger—I'm crippled."
"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" I asked, spinning back around.
"I don't know—something!" he cried, hopping forward on one foot, clearly in pain.
"Well, put your hand on my shoulder and lean on me," I suggested. He made a face.
"I'm not touching you," he spat.
"Fine," I lifted my chin. "Fall down again." I turned and kept walking. Draco struggled after me. He barreled through a tall section and swore again.
"Stop using that language," I snapped, not turning around.
"Then you stop walking," he barked.
"No."
"Yes!"
"No!" I shot back, spinning to face him again. "I'll not let you order me around!"
He looked at me in complete exasperation.
"What do you want me to say?"
"Say please for once in your life!" I cried. "Would it kill you?"
The glare he gave me should have killed me, but when he almost fell over again, it lost its power.
"Fine," he grunted. "Please."
"Please what?" I pressed.
"Please stop walking."
"Why?"
His mouth locked shut. But his gaze flickered. I stayed where I was for a moment, then sighed. I had pushed him as far as his pride would allow, for the moment. I came up beside him and faced the willow, then glanced down at my left shoulder and up at him.
"Go ahead," I said, lifting an eyebrow and the corners of my mouth. "I don't have leprosy."
Draco glared at the ground, then swayed and had to hop once to keep his balance. Then, the muscles in his jaw twitched, he put out his right hand and set it on my shoulder.
I stopped. His hand felt warm against me, and the sunlight glinted off his ring. I glanced up at his face. And for just a moment, he looked back at me.
I had been thinking about giving him a speech about how it was okay to ask people for help, but my words died and I fell silent. It wasn't necessary to say that. In fact, if I said anything, it would embarrass him and actually discourage him from asking for help in the future.
And who knows what cruel, condescending things Lucius may have said or done to him if he betrayed any sign of weakness, or hinted that he needed assistance if he was really hurt.
So, instead, I just raised my eyebrows.
"Ready?"
He nodded once, breaking eye contact. I started forward.
It was a strange walk—rather hitchy and uneven, because he was effectively using me as a crutch. I had to fight to keep my balance and not drop the chess board. Now and then, I cast secret glances up at his tight expression. I'd never realized how tall he was—he was probably taller than Ron.
A pang ran through me. Ron. Harry.
How long had it been since I'd seen them?
Swallowing, I helped Draco to the willow curtain, pushed it aside and he hopped inside after me. He promptly left my side, eased down onto the ground by the clock and gingerly untied his shoe.
"I swear to you, my bone is broken," he muttered.
I opened my mouth, then bit my tongue. I had almost called him a name, poking fun at all the fuss his was making. But then I reminded myself of how fast he had been running, and what he had tripped over, and how hard he had fallen.
"Does it look broken?" I asked, kneeling down just a little distance from him and setting the box down on the grass.
"That's what I'm trying to find out, isn't it?" he retorted. This time, I bit the inside of my cheek. And the next moment, I saw that he had a right to be cranky.
When he carefully peeled off his stocking, sucking in his breath in a hiss, I saw that his ankle and the top of his foot were swollen and turning red and purple. I winced.
"That looks terrible."
"It feels terrible," he grunted, lightly encircling his ankle with his fingers. "Brilliant. Just brilliant."
"It needs to be iced," I said, studying it. He looked at me like I was from Mars.
"Iced?"
"Yes," I nodded. "Without magic, if you put ice on an injury, it makes the swelling go down so you can heal."
He arched an eyebrow at me.
"Rubbish."
"It's true!" I insisted. "When I was little, I fell down and sprained my wrist, and I had to put bags of frozen vegetables on my arm to keep it from getting ridiculous. Besides," I shrugged. "It numbed it and kept it from hurting so badly."
For a second, I thought he was going to keep arguing with me. But then his brow tightened all of a sudden and his eyes went bright. I frowned. He was very pale, and his lips had gone white. I sat up. He was trying to mask it, but he had really hurt himself. He needed ice, and a pillow, and a comfortable place to sit—
Draco jumped, and let out another curse word. But I didn't think to shush him. I was too busy falling backward onto my hands and gaping.
Right there between us, a white pillow, a blue blanket, and three ice-packs had just appeared. There had been no poof, no smoke, no sparkles, nothing. They were not there, and then they were there.
For a long moment, we both just gawked. Then, we looked at each other. I grinned.
"Perfect," I declared, and I sat back up and grabbed the pillow. Draco leaned back.
"Granger—" he held up a hand. "What are you going to do with that—?"
"Smother you," I said sarcastically. "Relax, Malfoy."
"Then tell me what you're going to do."
I didn't answer. Instead, I crawled over, picked up one of the ice packs and took hold of Draco's calf.
"Get off!" he slapped at my hand.
"Don't be absurd," I batted his hand away.
"I don't need a nurse. Granger, don't—aaahhhhoowwww!"
I lifted up his foot, slipped the pillow and then the ice pack under it, and set his foot down.
"Sorry, sorry," I winced. Then, I grabbed the other ice packs and tucked them over his ankle and the top of his foot. I glanced up at him. His whole upper body had gone tight, his teeth were bared, and he glared at the ice.
"That hurts worse than before!" he cried.
"I know, I know—I'm sorry," I said. "It'll do that for a while, but the longer you keep the ice on, the quicker the swelling will go down."
"Why is it even swelling?" he gritted. "I was running through an imaginary room and tripped over an imaginary door."
"I don't know," I confessed, moving over and picking up the Slytherin pillow. "Sit forward."
"No."
"Please?"
He ground his teeth, then made a face and leaned forward. Quickly, I stuffed the pillow between him and the root. He leaned back and wrapped his arms around himself, glowering at his foot.
"This is humiliating," he muttered.
"What?" I demanded, sitting up. "Hurting yourself or letting someone take care of you?"
He didn't answer. He just swallowed, and a bit of the venom left his gaze. I sat there for a moment, trying not to say anything else, then stood up and stepped back around. I spread the blanket out on the ground, sat on it, and opened up the chess board box. Inside were two sets of pieces: black and white, matching the color of the checkerboard pattern on the outside. I opened the box and laid it down, playing side up, and started to set up the pieces. I observed with interest that they were not wizarding chess pieces. They were ordinary, just like the ones I'd used when I'd played with my dad.
I felt Draco watching me, lifting an eyebrow once or twice as I adjusted the kings. The black ones sat toward his side, the white ones toward mine. Then, when I was satisfied, I turned so that I lay on my stomach, propping myself up on my elbows, my head just above the board. I lifted my face to Draco. He was already looking at me.
"Your move," I said. He frowned. I cocked my head.
"We'll play two out of three. Whoever loses has to sing tonight," I challenged.
"In that case…" he said, twisted so he could reach the pieces, and shoved a pawn two spaces forward and grinned crookedly. "Let the games begin."
VVVV
DRACO
I was in pain. Real pain. But I was trying valiantly not to show it. I used to make a fuss about my injuries—as in the hippogriff incident—but then I got my Dark Mark tattoo. And that taught me the true meaning of agony. Afterward, I had once accidentally gotten my hand slammed in a door, and later gotten burned when Aunt Bellatrix was playing with a spark-throwing spell, without shedding a tear.
But right now, something was definitely wrong with my ankle—it felt crooked, or dislodged, or something. Broken. It was so irksome. I had felt excellent this morning—like I'd had the first night of solid sleep I'd gotten in a month. And I couldn't remember a time, before today, that I'd felt like just running as hard as I possibly could just for the fun of it.
Then I had to go and trip over something and mortify myself. And Granger was telling me that a little ice would help. The ice made me want to scream.
But I couldn't scream. Not anymore, and not in front of her. So I was going to pretend to play chess. And try not to faint.
VVVVV
HERMIONE
"Your move," I murmured.
"I know that."
"Then move."
"What—you have someplace to be?"
I didn't look up to see if Draco was glaring at me when he said that. I just sighed, stacked my fists and put my chin on top of them and stared at the board. The thick grass was even more comfortable now that I was on my stomach on a blanket. I felt sleepy. Draco lay on his side, his head and shoulders sunk into his pillow, which had stayed propped on the root, though it had scrunched a little in the past several hours.
"I can't feel my foot at all," he mumbled. I raised my eyebrows and glanced down at his ice-covered limb.
"Good," I said. "Hopefully it'll feel better in the morning."
There was a moment of thoughtful silence, and then he spoke, quieter than before.
"I think it's frozen me."
I looked up at him now. His face was still very pale, maybe more so, with dark circles under his eyes and that line of concentration between his eyebrows, as if he was staving off a fever. His eyes themselves carried little light, and he blinked slowly. My brow furrowed.
"Are you okay?"
He didn't answer. Finally, that made me sit up. A twinge of nervousness passed through me. I wasn't a doctor, and I had no magic with me. What if he really had broken a bone? That was incredibly painful! And here I was, making him play chess as if he'd done nothing more than stubbed his toe.
"Here," I said, picking up the chess board while keeping the pieces in place, and set it aside. Then, I picked up the fleece blanket, and draped it over him. He frowned, but he didn't say anything. That sealed it: it was worse than I'd thought.
I knelt down beside and in front of him, and tucked the blanket up around his shoulders. He stared straight ahead, and didn't regard me.
"You don't have to sing tonight," I said, then tried to force some levity. "Even though I was clearly about to move into check."
"You wish," he muttered, but a little of the hardness softened around his eyes. I smiled. And then I just stayed there. I almost moved away, but since he didn't seem to notice how close I was, I slowly sank down into place, and my elbow bumped his side. For a long moment, I just sat there, studying the lines of his face.
Something needed to be done. I had no painkillers or anything to give him except that ice. My brow tightened and I swallowed. I remembered what my mom had done when I'd wrenched my arm, and that had seemed to help at the time. But I was myself, and this was Draco Malfoy. I bit my lip. He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a sharp breath, and his leg twitched. I closed my hands and swallowed hard. Okay, I would try at least one part of my mom's remedy. I opened my mouth and started to sing—very, very quietly.
"Loola bye, oh loola bye
My lovely loola moon
Tiptoe by where my baby lies
In your tiny silver shoon…"
The reaction from the Room was instantaneous—it startled me. Gold, flitting lights, like fairies, fluttered up from the grass and surrounded us with a soft glow. Draco's face relaxed, and he let out a long sigh. The gold settled on him. I kept singing.
"Will you guard, will you keep
Will you watch over, please,
My wee one, my lambkin
My sweet chicka-chickadee…"
The lights sank down into him, clustering around his hurt ankle and setting it aglow for just a moment. He nuzzled against his pillow, then sighed again. And then, finally, I risked doing the other thing my mom had done when I was hurt. I reached out, and, almost afraid to touch him, stroked back the fair hair by his temple with my fingertips.
Then, something new happened. My fingers left sparkling trails in his hair. And as I kept softly caressing his feathery locks, those sparkles sank down into his head as well. The tips of my fingers grew warm. And then the warmth traveled up my arm and into my chest.
"Loola bye, oh loola bye," I whispered. In your tiny silver shoon…"
It grew dark again inside the willow, as one by one the lights went out, like candles being snuffed inside a cathedral. In fact, it got darker than ever before—but I wasn't afraid of it. Instead, it made me drowsy. So I lay over on my left side, a little way from Draco, curled up and rested my head near the chessboard. I glanced upward, and for just a moment, I thought I caught a glimpse of the moon far overhead. I felt a little smile cross my face, and then my eyes drifted shut and I fell asleep, too.
TBC
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