Disclaimer: Not mine

Chapter 9

It was a dingy place; old with a thick layer of dust covering every surface of the place. The old wooden floor was layered with the shelling of a variety of nuts often brought in for the wizards' delight. Despite the sun that still hung high in the sky, the place was dark and dank, trapped in an eternal night.

As his boots hit the wooden floor with a deep thud, the door behind closed of its own accord, shutting out the sliver of light that had broken through the dark barrier of the wizard pub. Each step brought little attention to him. They chose the perfect place to meet. A place full of people not wanting to be noticed, many wrapped in some sort of cloak to hide their face, many slouched over a drink and avoiding eye contact, trying to disappear into the dark protection of the old pub.

He noticed him across the room sitting at a table in the back corner. The cloak he wore in was draped on the back of his chair and his lips turned up in a positively arrogant smile as he brought his drink to his lips, knowing exactly what was going through the spy's head. It was appalling—a wanted man, sitting out in the open, no disguise, no cloak to cover his visage from the public view.

"Bring me a Firewhisky," he said as he passed the waitress leaving the table, her head down as if refusing to look at the wanted patron.

He slid into his seat and said nothing until the small frightened woman brought his drink. He took a swallow, his dark hair falling back slightly with the movement.

"What do you think you are doing?" He finally asked through clenched teeth. "You are a wanted man."

"You always were one to worry just entirely too much, Severus," he said taking a sip.

Severus couldn't help the snarl. It was just like him…that arrogant smirk, the silken hair that was a direct contrast to his limp locks and his deep eyes that sparkled with mischievousness—all the traits he hated to see in his students.

"This is the last place I need to worry about being caught," the man said. "Look around you, Severus. Who in this pub is not wanted?"

The scowl on Severus' face told him he was right and Severus knew it, but oh how he hated to be wrong. The man smiled, slowly licking the taste of the alcohol from his lips.

"Lestrange, just give me the information you said you had for me." Severus was losing his patience, his words biting and snapping.

Slowly Rabastan's dark eyes looked up at the professor, smile gracing his lips.

"Settle down, Severus. I promised to deliver and I will."

Rabastan paused to take a drink, smiling over the rim at the way he could so easily get to Snape when he was in these moods. He sat his glass down with a thunk on the table.

"I know who put your precious little girl in the closet before her parents were murdered."

Severus' eyes narrowed; the disgust and anger dancing in his eyes. Rabastan glanced down noticing the way his hand flexed as if wanting more than anything to hold his wand and hex the person the moment he heard the name.

"Give me the name," Severus ground out slowly.

"Me," Rabastan said with a smile.

"What?" Severus was louder than he intended, glancing around when he realized this and then leaned over the table slightly dropping his voice to a near whisper…a very angry whisper.

"What do you mean by this?"

Rabastan took a deep breath and smiled again.

"I saved her life, Severus. I promised to protect her. I promised to get there before the others and keep her safe, hide her if I must."

"You forced her to listen to her own parents' murder!"

The smile fell from Rabastan's face.

"That was an unfortunate accident. I charmed the door…a double charm, no sound in and no sound out. Somehow she broke, weakened the charm keeping her from hearing beyond the door."

Severus' nostrils flared in his anger.

"Who wanted her protected?"

The smooth smile found its way back on Rabastan's face.

"Oh, come now, Severus. You must know I can't tell you that."

"Who?" Severus' tone was demanding.

Rabastan's amusement was gone. He slammed his hands down on the table and leaned over slightly matching Severus' glare with one of his own.

"I did what I was asked…nearly begged to do. Your precious little girl was kept safe and that is all you need to know. Besides, Severus, you must remember what it's like to be someone's savior…someone's protector from the dark shadows of the enemy."

The corridors were empty, almost haunting her with the memories of her own reality they held. She angrily wiped the tears from her face, amazed she had not run across anyone on rounds, amazed it looked as if she would reach the Slytherin common room without being caught.

Still, Draco's words echoed in her head, a knife in the heart. She knew she could not possibly consider them friends. They had disliked each other since the day they met and that dislike turning to pure hatred the day he called her, "mudblood." But he was all she had here. Couldn't he see that? In what reality would she hold onto him for comfort, for warmth except for one that was not theirs? The worse part was for the briefest of moments she felt he understood, felt a warm comfort rolling off him, but it quickly turned to ice sending chills through her body.

The tears wouldn't stop.

She had lost everything coming here, but Nott, Nott felt like something…the one thing she had gained. All it took was a few well placed words from Draco to remind her she had gained nothing but future heartache. And why did he have to be so cold, so cruel? He was all she truly had here and he seemed to revel in making sure she knew how alone she was.

In all his cruel words over the past week Draco was right about one thing though. In his cruel intentions he told her to enjoy herself, that it wouldn't last, this wasn't even her body—which she found obvious by evidence of the strange tattoo on her hip. She would enjoy herself; she would forget that in her reality Nott would pay her little to no attention, because she wasn't living in her reality, she was living in a reality where he adored her, longed for her.

She vaguely remembered Pansy calling to her as she breezed through the common room, her eyes intent and set on her door, knowing who would be waiting behind it. She wasted no time, catching only a glimpse of him in the room, but enough to see. He had gotten out of the shower not long ago, his jeans clinging to his form perfectly and no shirt adorning his chest. His head was flung back on the back of the sofa he sat on and he started, looking up at the sound of the slamming door.

She rushed across the room.

Her body slammed into his, her knees coming to a rest on either side of him, her hands moving up his chest and her lips crashing into his. The sudden flash of soft pale flesh gliding slowly against flesh, a hand moving slowly across someone's skin, slow and soft flashed across her memory. Dancing across an ankle, tickling its way up a leg, over a knee and caressing slowly, seductively up a thigh. She gasped for air at the memory, chest heaving against Theo. Part of her wondered what the memory was…where it had come from. His startled gasp turned into a moan and it took him no time to flip her over beneath him. He hovered above her, his smirk making her heart pound, pushing the sound of Draco's hateful words out of her head, pushing the sound of the protesting voice deep into the back of her head.

He stared down at her. Every part of him telling him to take the writhing girl beneath him, she was ready and willing, but he knew. He had known her since they were children. He could see the torment in her eyes and knew this wasn't right, it wouldn't be tonight as much as he longed for it to be. Her cheeks were still damp in tears and he could taste the salty tears that still lingered on her lips. His hand reached out, caressing her cheek and running his hand up through her hair; she closed her eyes and arched her back a slight whine coming from the back of her throat.

She was making it quite difficult.

He closed his eyes, his hand gripping the back of the sofa for control.

"Merlin, Pet, you are driving me insane." His voice was soft with a rough choked rumble.

He opened his eyes watching the way her eyelashes, with tears still clinging to them fluttered open.

"You are upset, Pet," he whispered, his lips hovering slightly above hers. "As much as I want you…and trust me…I do," he reiterated as he danced the tip of his tongue across her bottom lip. "I won't do this while you are distressed…not now."

She felt the moment swoop away, everything she was feeling wash away and she felt deflated and humiliated. What was she doing? Who did she think she was? He smiled down at the soft blush that danced across her cheeks as he sat up, pulling her up with him and into his lap, wrapping his arms around her.

"I'm here when you are ready to tell me what has been vexing you so as of late," he said, his lips gently caressing hers.

She was going to lose him eventually anyway and for the briefest moment she wondered what he would say, what he would do if she told him…everything.

He was alone in the dorm room when he found them. Another sleepless night had him sleeping in. He was fresh out of the shower, his school uniform on, shirt not quite buttoned all the way up yet and his tie hanging loosely around his neck. His damp hair hung in his eyes as he stared down into his trunk, a book having shifted in his search for clues…clues about who the Draco in this reality was.

They peeked out from the cover, the book only in his trunk to hide what was held between the covers. He sat on the foot of his bed as he pulled the book open, slipping the pictures he found out. Some of them were muggle pictures…snapshots of a single second in time. Others were wizard photos, their movement a single moment in the subject's life…a flash of life. He stared at these pictures, dumbfounded and almost horrified.

They were all of the same person.

And in a majority of them, she didn't seem to know she was being photographed, reading under a tree, lying in the sun with her eyes closed, sitting at a table in the library. But there were other pictures…pictures where her bright eyes turned to the camera and she smiled, her eyes sparkling in utter joy and then there was the one picture that stopped his heart.

Had he taken this?

She sat on a bed. A silky looking white gown adorning her figure, clinging to her torso and fanning out slightly, flowing layers of fabric. One spaghetti strap fell off her shoulder as she was reading the book lying in front of her, but she shifted—her eyes slowly looking up at something beyond the camera, a small shy smile on her face and slowly nibbling her bottom lip, a blush creeping across her cheeks.

He blinked, his eyes shifting from the picture he held and down to the array of pictures now spread over his bed and he was horrified at the sheer number of them and the number of them that seemed taken without her knowledge. His eyes moved back to the one of her on the bed, the shy, blushing girl he knew from his reality, but who was he in this reality? Was he a stalker in this one?

Was the Draco Malfoy of this reality stalking Hermione Granger?

Was he insane?

With an angry cry of out rage he swept the pictures haphazardly into his trunk, slamming the lid shut. He brought his hand to his head, gripping it tight as if to will it all away, to will himself back to where he should be.

He still held the picture though, the blushing shy picture of the girl. His heart pounded heavily, his fingers tracing her form. There was something…something familiar, something about it he couldn't put his finger on and some part of him wanted to just stay in that room, staring at the picture.

Angrily, he shoved the picture into his pocket and tossed his bag over his shoulder as he fled the room and the memories he knew nothing about, it obviously held.

"You think she'll wake up soon?"

Harry looked over at Ron. He was sitting in a chair by Hermione's bed, his chin resting on his fist, his elbow digging into his own leg. Harry sat on the foot of Hermione's bed shrugging his shoulders. He knew no more than Ron did. All they knew was that Hermione was mentally, spiritually, emotionally living in an alternate reality, trapped with Malfoy.

Theo had said very little in his time there with the two Gryffindor boys. He was already in the room when they arrived, quietly watching both of them. He now sat closer to Draco's bed.

Ron sat up suddenly, taking a deep sigh as he relaxed back in his chair, pulling his eyes off Hermione and landing on Draco.

"He better not be hurting her," Ron blurted out.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Ron," he mumbled like a warning.

Theo simply smiled and shook his head turning back to the folder he held in his hand and the papers within it. Ron's eyes settled on something he couldn't recall seeing before though—a strange necklace around Draco's neck. He looked at it, his nose crinkling in disgust.

"What is that around your friend's neck?" Ron asked. "It looks like blood."

Harry rubbed his head. Ron was never very tactful, something that often caused headaches and often fights between him and Hermione, but as Harry turned to look at the object in question he had to agree.

The phial around Draco Malfoy's neck, the phial that seemed to have appeared in the past day looked to be filled with blood—a blood so deep and dark that it nearly swirled in its shades of purple.

It was a delicate thing she found. It was in a desk drawer, sitting in a small velvet box in the corner as if hidden. The chain was silver…she would surmise the best money could buy; she didn't even want to guess how much the chain alone cost. Dangling from it was a small delicate ornately designed crystal phial.

The chain felt just as delicate as the phial, falling between her fingers, the crystal reflecting the light of the candelabra brilliantly and drawing attention to the near purple liquid that filled it.

It was beyond dazzling.

"Ready, Pet?"

Hermione turned, dropping the necklace back into the velvet box and dropping it into her bag.

"We need access to the restricted section," she said softly as she moved the un-needed books out of their way.

Slowly he looked up from his book and parchment, his eyes following her every move through the curtain of hair that fell across his eyes. She wouldn't even look at him. Even when she spoke to him she looked anywhere but at him, her voice taking a soft melancholic tone…the fire gone.

"We'll use the invisibility cloak," Draco said watching her for any sign of the fire he loved to play in. "It's nothing you haven't done before."

She nodded. She didn't fight with him, didn't protest his obvious jab at her rule breaking in their own reality. She did nothing, her eyes cast down, her mind quickly reviewing what they had already learned which was really nothing new. Draco sat back tossing his hair out of his eyes. Sitting across from him was the exact opposite of the Hermione he found in those pictures and yet when he got a glimpse of her eyes, glassy and seeming to always be tear filled, he saw it. It was reflecting in her eyes, something he saw in those pictures of her, a destiny, a fate that was so rooted within her it frightened her and for some reason the alternate version of himself had been drawn to it…drawn to her. He was insane. It was all there was to it.

"I'll meet you outside the Slytherin common room at ten," he said shifting in his seat again. She glanced up, her eyes still not falling directly on him, but she looked confused. "Unless you want to risk your walk to the library without the invisibility cloak?"

She nooded.

"At ten," she whispered pulling her bag into her lap.

Draco leaned back over his book, quickly trying to jot down the last of the information that could possibly be gleamed and considered somewhat helpful. The little phial that hung from the leather piece around his neck hung slightly when he shifted forward. She stilled, her eyes watching the way the deep reds and near purples swirled and she reached out.

It was new.

He could never remember a time when Granger reached out to do anything let alone touch him. But then she wasn't attempting to touch him. He froze, the quick moving quill stopping immediately when he felt her fingertips gently graze over the base of his neck as she reached for the phial he wore. A chill ran through his body.

It was warm in her hand.

Draco glanced up watching the way she partially leaned over the table to reach it.

"Granger, what are you doing?" He asked.

She blinked, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she sat back down, releasing the phial he wore. As it fell back against his skin he noticed how warm it was, almost hot.

"I found one just like it," she said in a whisper as she rummaged around her bag only stopping when she found the velvet box and sat it on the table between them.

When she opened it, Draco saw it sitting in there…the match to the one he wore around his neck, smaller giving a more feminine flare, but its match none the less and it too had the swirling liquid that was so deep a red that there seemed to be swirls of purple within.

"Put it on," Draco said curious as to why they both had one. Was it some weird gift he had sent her in his obvious obsession…some way to keep stalking her?

She shook her head.

"It could be cursed," she pointed out.

"Granger, I've been wearing mine with nothing happening. Just try it on."

She nibbled her lip, a look that reminded him of that picture and he shifted, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, his eyes lingering on her bottom lip. She took a deep breath, a breath that said she was giving in, not going to fight and picked the necklace up. The chain was cool between her fingers and she expected the same from the phial, but the moment it lay against her skin she felt the warmth…the heat that radiated off the delicate crystal.

It was instantaneous.

The moment the phial fell against her skin Draco's mind filled with Hermione's voice. It was like a million thought all happening at once. Her curiosity over the necklaces, her wish to go back to their reality and the overwhelming anguish she still felt from her parents' death. And the worse was he could hear it; hear it echoing in his own head, replaying itself over and over as it must have been doing in Hermione's…her screams an echo of torment and the sound of her parents begging for their lives. And interlaced through it all, dominating the thoughts of her time here was how utterly alone she was…even in her own thoughts the image of her crying against him in the library replayed, her desire to have that warmth from him again echoing and knowing in truth even with their shared experience, she had no one.

Draco could still feel her warm tears against his neck and could still feel the way her small frame trembled.

He reached out, snatching the necklace from her neck.

"Bad idea," he snapped. "Never put that on again."

She said nothing though. Hermione sat there, staring wide eyed across the table at the angry boy. His voice dying to an echo of memory in her own mind…the sound of his own desire and need to have her companionship during this…the sound of his own confusion and the strange echoing sound underneath it all of the need to be by her side…a voice that sounded very much like Draco and yet it seemed different…seemed separated from him, like a different person.

Draco shoved his things into his bag and stood up, glaring down at her as if the whole necklace thing was her fault.

"Don't forget. Ten o'clock, Granger," he snapped as he turned to leave

She wasn't looking at him. Again, her eyes remained averted until he was gone. She looked at the door he stormed through and then down to the necklace, the innocent looking delicate piece of jewelry and the questions started pouring in.

Why did they each have one?

Why were they able to hear each other's every thought?

And most importantly, what was that swirling liquid that now was so cold against her hand?

Notes: Not going to lie. The review make me want to post faster :)