Every friend we ever had in common When you go, I will forget everything about you
I will sever the tie, sever the tie with you
You can thank your lucky stars
That everything I wish for will never come true
Fallout Boy: Sending Postcards from a Plane Crash
Undone
Sunday, September 21
Hermione groaned as a wave of nausea crashed into her. Other than the roiling tempest in her stomach and what felt like a hippogriff stampede in her head, her whole body was numb. She felt like she had after the incident in the Hospital Wing, only a hundred times worse.
Fighting the oblivion that was threatening to swallow her again, Hermione struggled to open her eyes. For a moment she thought she heard someone calling her name, but it sounded so very far away.
"Granger, wake up."
It was clearer, closer this time. She groaned again and finally forced her eyes open. Staring down at her was the wide-eyed, upside-down face of Draco Malfoy. Judging by the angle, Hermione's head was resting in his lap. He was a bit fuzzy around the edges, but it was definitely him.
"Thank Merlin," he breathed. "She's awake."
In a heartbeat, three more faces came into view: Absalom, Harry, and Ron. Harry and Ron began speaking at once, but her mind was having trouble separating the two. Absalom put two fingers to her neck, trying to measure her pulse. He looked at her gravely. Draco wore an identical expression.
"How did you do that, Granger?" Absalom asked.
"Harry," she mumbled in response.
The two boys stopped their chattering at once and stared at her blankly. Hermione began to feel uncomfortable under four pairs of scrutinous eyes.
"What did you say?" Harry said in disbelief.
"Your name, you tit," Draco snapped.
"I know she said my name, Ferret. I was wondering why."
Absalom continued to study her, adding things up. "Ipswich?" he asked.
Hermione nodded, but immediately regretted it. Her vision swam as the pain in her head soared to new heights. She desperately hoped that Draco would take the high road and let Harry be Harry. She really didn't have the strength just then to be breaking the two apart again.
"I don't know what's going on," Draco said, his voice softer, as though he was speaking solely to Hermione. "But I think we need to get you home."
"I take back what I said earlier," Hermione said tiredly. "That was the most brilliant thing you've ever said."
Draco barely repressed a laugh at the inside joke as he linked his arms beneath Hermione's and wrapped them around her chest. Absalom and Ron each took a hand and carefully pulled Hermione to her feet. Draco stood with her, and moved his hands to her waist, helping her balance.
"Keep your hands to yourself, Malfoy," Ron spat.
Defiantly, Draco's grip tightened on Hermione's waist. She made no attempt to remove his hands. In fact, she rather liked having his support. She felt extraordinarily safe and grounded. There was also the tiny, evil voice in her head – a voice that sounded suspiciously like Draco - telling her that she was enjoying seeing Ron so irate. She could almost picture a miniature version of her partner standing on her shoulder holding a pitchfork, encouraging her to antagonize him. The angel which should have been perched on her other shoulder was notably absent.
"I didn't hear you complaining where my hands were when I caught her after your levitation charm failed," Draco responded rather flatly. His tone only served to infuriate Ron further.
Hermione noticed there was also the distinct absence of the words "are you ok," and "thank you."
What's a girl got to do to get some appreciation around here?
Draco seems to be 'appreciating' you.
Draco? When did that happen?
Hermione shivered and it wasn't from the cold.
"Honestly," she said with a dramatic roll of her eyes. "Can't this wait? It's bloody cold out here."
Ron wore a pained expression as though he was literally biting his tongue to keep from retorting. He nodded stiffly.
"Harry?" She turned her head weakly in Harry's direction. He still looked angry and was solemnly appraising the situation with his arms folded across his chest. His keen viridian eyes lingered on Draco's hands before finding Hermione's face. The intensity of his gaze would have made her squirm had she not been so fatigued. Her strength was slow in returning.
"Here or there, you're going to answer our questions."
Hermione suddenly felt as if she was under attack and had to force herself not to take a defensive stance. Harry's cold demeanor was far worse than if he'd been screaming and ranting like he usually did. Screaming and ranting she could deal with; they were familiar. The Harry before her – despite his unchanged appearance – was not the same Harry who left her behind all those months ago. But then, she figured she wasn't the same person, either.
Hermione drew herself up and took two wobbly but determined steps away from Draco. He seemed reluctant to let her go, but didn't fight her. She raised her chin defiantly.
"I will tell you what I can, but I'm not the only one who has some answering to do, Harry."
Hermione noted with a small measure of grim satisfaction that Harry was peeved by her response. She did not know what he had expected, but it was not what he got.
"Go to Grimmauld Place, both of you," she continued. "We'll be along in a minute." Her tone left no room for argument, but Ron was never the most perceptive of blokes.
"You seriously expect us to leave you alone with ferret-face?"
"You left her once before; it should be second nature by now," Draco interjected.
Ron opened his mouth to retort, but Hermione swiftly cut him off.
"Honestly, Ronald, just go."
"Come on, Ron, let's give them some privacy," Harry said, acidly.
Hermione's stomach flipped alarmingly at Harry's implication. The sensation did nothing to help the nausea or the fact that her legs felt as though they were going to give out at any moment.
"Fine," Ron said through clenched teeth. "We'll be in the kitchen."
They Disapparated with two angry cracks.
As soon as they blinked out of sight, Hermione let her legs collapse beneath her and sank to the ground. She took several deep breaths, willing her hands to stop shaking and her head to stop spinning. It wasn't really working.
Draco sat down next to her; his mere presence calmed her. Hermione was surprised by this, but was too grateful to care. She began collecting her thoughts, preparing for the inevitable row she would be having with Harry and Ron in just a few short minutes.
"Are you alright," he asked.
"No," she whispered. "I'm not. I feel like I've been run over by a train."
There was a pause before Draco lightly wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her towards him.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Repaying the favor."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
Hermione rested her head on his shoulder.
"Granger?"
She jumped at the sound of Absalom's deep voice, having completely forgotten he was there. "Yes?"
"I need to ask you some questions before I go." Hermione took a deep breath and nodded for him to proceed. He crouched in front of them.
"How did Severus die?"
Draco answered. "Fenrir Greyback. He nearly killed me too."
Absalom frowned deeply, but continued. "You recognized me at the meeting. I'm assuming you have the letterbox."
"We do," Hermione paused, remembering a particular scene from Snape's memories. "The hag – the one in the shoe shop. Where is she?"
Absalom considered before answering as though he was not sure if he wanted to divulge that information. "Barcelona," he said finally.
"And she has it?" Hermione asked hopefully.
Absalom shook his head. "No, Fea is more a… gatekeeper, but she does know where it is."
Hermione couldn't help but smile. "That's good to hear."
"How long have you been studying to become an Animagus?"
She wasn't sure what it had to do with anything, but answered nonetheless. "Two days."
"Two –" He stood and pulled a hand through his wild black hair. "Two days?"
"Yes," she replied self-consciously. "Why?"
"It took me almost a year, and Severus said I was a quick study."
Hermione's mouth was a round 'o' of disbelief.
"You're a powerful witch, Granger. You'd best learn to control it before it becomes a liability, like Potter's."
"What are you saying?" Draco asked, his voice tinged with annoyance.
Absalom turned back to Hermione. "You haven't told him, have you?"
She shook her head. "You're the only other person who knows, and that's because you saw what happened."
"You're going to have to tell him. Especially if you keep pulling stunts like that," he said, pointing towards the deserted catwalk, the hounds having long since left, once they realized their meal had escaped.
"I know," she said with a sigh. She really did know.
"I must go now," Absalom said. "There is…business that needs attending too."
"Thank you – for everything," Hermione said.
"I brought you here. You got them out alive."
Hermione snorted in a very unladylike way. "Yeah, and I almost killed myself in the process."
Absalom smirked a very Snape-like smirk and stepped back to transform.
"Wait," Hermione said hurriedly. "How can we contact you?"
He paused. "What for?"
"Information. Communication in general. Help, if we need it." Her unconscious inclusion of Draco did not go unnoticed. He squeezed her shoulder. Hermione suddenly felt a great deal warmer in the cold air.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, we are," said Draco.
Pulling his wand out, Absalom knelt before the pair once again. "Give me your hand."
Hermione extended her left and Draco offered his right.
"I'm left handed," he explained in response to her curious expression.
Why didn't I notice that before?
Because you were too busy focusing on other parts of his anatomy.
Shut up!
Without a word, Absalom held Hermione's hand, palm up, and touched the tip of his wand to the inside of her wrist. Hermione hissed in mild pain as he began tracing an intricate, circular maze on her skin. It took him a couple of minutes to complete the pattern.
She studied the black lines in the moonlight. "It's a labyrinth."
Absalom, who had already begun repeating the process on Draco, did not look up as he spoke. "Aye. I have one, as did Severus. To activate it, put your wand to it and speak my name aloud. Wait five minutes, and then go to the cottage in the woods. I will do the same if I need to speak with you."
When he finished Draco's tattoo, he stood and said, "Choose your words carefully, Granger, and don't let them push you around. You need to be a Slytherin tonight."
Before either of them could respond, a black hawk winged off into the night.
"Well, he's an interesting sort, isn't he?" Draco said.
"Indeed."
"We should head back before Potter and Weasley show up, hexes flying."
"I know," she said with a sigh. "I'm just not looking forward to this. At all."
"Do you think you can Apparate?"
"Unless you want half of a partner at Grimmauld place, I suggest a Portkey."
"And leave me to deal with those two baboons? I think not. But you'll have to make the Portkey; I never have. We wouldn't want us to end up on the other side of the country."
Hermione chuckled, enjoying their friendly banter. It was a relief considering what she had waiting for her at Grimmauld Place.
"Fair enough. Where's that candle we used earlier?" she said.
"Accio candle."
Silently, the half-used chunk of wax zoomed toward Draco's chest. With a Seeker's reflexes, he snatched it out of the air before it hit him. He set it on the ground in front of them.
Hermione flicked her wand out of its holster and pointed it at the candle. With the image of the foyer at Grimmauld Place in her mind she incanted, "Portus."
Draco removed his arm from her shoulder, but Hermione caught his hand in hers. "I hate Portkeys," she offered lamely. Draco did not remove his hand, and she was more relieved than she ought to have been.
"Ready?" he asked.
"No."
"On three. One. Two. Three."
Together, they grabbed the Portkey and left Tullynally castle behind. When they reappeared just inside the front door, Hermione had a death grip on Draco's hand. The whirling motion of the Portkey had brought the nausea back full force.
"At least I've not been splinched," she said wryly.
"Small consolations."
Behind the kitchen door down the hall, Harry and Ron could be heard moving around and talking, most likely finding something to eat. Draco stood, pulling her up with him.
"Let's get this over with," he said.
Hermione stared at him blankly for a moment before his words sunk in. He meant to join her. "You don't have to do this, Malfoy. It's not your fight."
"Perhaps not, but we're partners. Besides, I've always maintained that Potter was insane. Someone needs to mediate."
"You? Mediate? I think you're the one who's insane." Draco shrugged. "Who are you and what did you do with Draco Malfoy?"
"He took a holiday – be back in the morning."
Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled, and walked towards the kitchen door. Before she opened it, Draco put his hand on it to stop her. The labyrinth tattoo was plainly visible, a reminder that they really were in it together. That she wasn't alone.
"Absalom was right, you know," he said, serious once more. "If you go in there all emotional and uppity, this discussion is going to go south much quicker than you'd like. Keep your head about you and your tongue in check."
Hermione nodded grimly, knowing that he was right. He moved his hand and she opened the door. Inside, Harry was seated at the table eating a sandwich and Ron had his head in the icebox. Neither noticed their arrival.
"There's some dinner left in the oven, Ronald."
Startled, Ron stood up quickly, forgetting his head was inside the 'box. He cracked the back of his skull on bump forming.
Harry dropped his sandwich and fixed them with an icy glare. He looked positively murderous. Hermione was eternally grateful that she would not be bearing the full brunt of Harry's wrath alone. Draco's presence was solid and reassuring behind her.
Draco shut the door as they stepped into the room. Harry stood and walked up to them. His emerald eyes flicked observantly between them. Hermione noticed Ron watching them out of the corner of her eye.
"Piss off, Malfoy," Harry ground out.
His tone caused the overall temperature in the room to drop to hypothermic levels. Hermione imagined if she was breathing she would be able to see it condensing in the air in front of her face. She did, however, take a page out of Draco's book, and made her face as impassive as possible. It was difficult, but she at least managed to look far less anxious than she felt.
"Not going to happen, Potter," he said coolly.
At first, Harry did not react, but Hermione noticed a small muscle in his neck spasm. She gripped her wand tightly, waiting for the eruption.
Furiously, Harry threw Draco against the door. One fist wrapped tightly in Draco's shirt while the other trained his wand on Draco's throat. Malfoy, however, seemed to have expected this and did not so much as wince. Hermione was envious of his composure.
She reacted with catlike reflexes and had her wand pointed at Harry in seconds, who was oblivious to everything but Draco at the moment.
"Hermione! What are you doing?" Ron yelled. She ignored him.
"I should kill you for what you've done," Harry said menacingly.
Draco said nothing, but a shadow of his trademark smirk ghosted across his lips.
"Harry James Potter, unhand my partner this instant and sit down," Hermione demanded. She sounded remarkably like Professor McGonagall. "We came here to talk, but we can leave, if you like."
Harry blinked twice before tearing his eyes off Draco and turning them on her. "Partner?"
"Yes. We're partners. Please, sit down. I'm exhausted."
"Not until Malfoy leaves."
"Not an option," she said firmly.
"I can't believe you're taking Malfoy's side over ours," Ron said from the other side of the room.
"No Ron, the day you left me, you took his side for me. Had I been with you, he'd be dead."
"You saved his life?" Harry asked incredulously.
"I did, and I've not regretted it once. Now, if you want any of your questions answered, please release him and sit down."
"But Hermione, its Malfoy," said Ron.
"As ever, your powers of deduction are exceptional."
"How could you?" Harry said. "He's been our enemy since before we even made it to Hogwarts."
"Think on your own actions, and then ask me again. You have your fair share of responsibility here, too."
"We left you behind to protect you!" Harry shouted.
"First of all, I resent the implication that I need protecting. I am quite capable, I assure you. Second, if I require so much protection, why is it me who's always rushing off to save your arses? And, finally, if you really had such noble intentions, why have I not heard a friendly word from you since you left? We have owled at least three times a week, but you never wanted anything more than information."
"Really, Hermione, we just-"
"Just what, Ronald?" she shouted. "I am not your personal encyclopedia!"
"It never seemed to bother you before," Harry remarked snidely.
"Before, I was helping my friends."
"So Malfoy's not just your partner, he's your friend, too?"
"He's shown more concern for my well-being in the past week than either of you have in the past four months. So yes, he's my friend as well."
Too stunned to respond, Harry released Draco and stumbled backwards where he plopped down heavily into the nearest chair. Draco, too, looked surprised by Hermione's proclamation, but he hid it with practiced ease. Instead he merely smoothed the wrinkles left by Harry's balled fist out of his shirt.
Hermione supposed she should be shocked as well, but she wasn't, not really. Their relationship was far from perfect, or normal even, but he was definitely more than an acquaintance or partner at this point. She cared for him as a friend, and was fairly certain he returned the sentiment, if only marginally.
"Blimey," Ron said in hushed tones.
"Understatement," Harry agreed.
Hermione and Draco took advantage of Harry and Ron's distraction by seating themselves opposite Harry. She was on edge expecting another outburst from Harry, and she could sense Draco was too. As if in a stupor, Ron joined the others at the table, taking a seat next to Harry and across from Hermione.
She took a deep, steadying breath. "First question?"
"How long has this been going on?" Harry asked, still dazed.
"That's irrelevant. Next question."
One week. It even sounded ridiculous to her, which meant if she told them that, she had almost no chance of defending herself. No, it was best to keep that information to herself.
Harry seemed reluctant to drop the question, but Ron ploughed ahead impatiently. "How did you know we were trapped in Tullynally?" he asked, obviously not wanting to dwell on Draco's presence.
"Absalom came to us after the meeting. We went straight away."
"Who is he, and how do you know him?" Harry demanded, sounding slightly paranoid.
Hermione thought fast to come up with an adequate lie and hope she could pull it off. She hated lying to them, but she did not see another option, either. Snape was forbidden territory as far as Harry was concerned. One mention of his name, and the conversation would be over.
"Absalom is…an ally, and I asked him to keep an eye on you."
She was surprised at how genuinely the words fell from her lips. Perhaps Malfoy was rubbing off on her.
"Why the hell would you do that?" Harry snapped.
"How else was I supposed to know anything?" she countered evenly. "Dumbledore trusted him; that should be enough for you. That's all I'll say about Absalom."
Harry glowered sullenly.
"What's the matter Potter?" Don't like being left out of the loop?" Draco taunted. He had remained silent thus far. Hermione supposed it would have been asking far too much for him not to bait them at some point during the evening, 'mediator' or not.
"Shut your face before I shut it for you, Death Eater. Or maybe I'll just turn you into something small, white and fuzzy…that ought to do the trick. At least then you'd look like the rodent you are."
"Enough!" Hermione interjected. "He is not, nor was he ever, a Death Eater, so leave it out. Next question or we're leaving."
The silence that fell was thick enough to eat with a spoon. Hermione chanced a look at Draco who was carefully watching every move the other two made. She was glad he had her back.
After an indeterminate length of time, Harry asked the one question she had hoped to avoid.
"When you woke up, Absalom," he said the name as though it tasted funny, "asked you how you did…whatever it was you did. Why did you say my name?"
Harry and Ron were expectantly staring across the table, and Hermione could tell by his slight shift of posture that Draco was just as interested in her answer as they were. She chose her words very carefully.
"When you were a baby, Harry, Voldemort imparted some of his power to you."
Harry grimaced, but nodded.
"I think something similar happened to me at Ipswich."
Harry and Ron exchanged uneasy glances. Draco, for the first time since they sat, was looking at Hermione.
"What are you saying," Harry asked in a shaky voice.
"By the look on your face, I'd say you understood me perfectly."
"But that's Dark magic," Harry hissed as he stood and slammed his palms down on the table. "I am not a Dark wizard."
"The difference between Dark magic and normal, everyday magic lies solely with intent, Harry. You weren't exactly in control, but you had meant to kill those vampires," Hermione explained, finding a comfort zone in educating those around her. It was easy for her to detach when she was reciting bare facts. "I was simply unfortunate enough to be caught in the blast."
"No!" Harry shouted. "You're wrong. I don't believe you!"
"Mate" Ron said, trying to calm Harry.
"Don't, Ron." He turned to Hermione. "It's impossible; I'm not like him."
"I'm not saying you're like him, but I assure you, it's quite possible." Hermione was amazed at how steady her voice was. Usually and emotional display like this wound her up as well.
"NO!" he shouted again.
Draco, despite not really knowing what happened, stood to defend Hermione.
"If you stopped shouting for two seconds and put your thick head to work, you might remember who it is you're yelling at." Harry stopped and stared. "Granger is many things, but a liar is not one of them. Do you really think she would have even suggested something like she just did without reasoning it out until her head burst with it? Especially considering you lot act like a couple of five year olds who've just had their brooms confiscated."
"Stay out of this, Malfoy," Harry spat. "It's none of your bloody business."
"She is my business. You should get used to the idea."
Hermione couldn't help the warm feeling tightening in her chest as she watched Draco Malfoy take on Harry Potter head-to-head on her behalf. There was an irony to the whole scene; she could not quite believe her eyes – or her ears. Neither could Ron, for that matter. He was scratching his head dumbly, looking disturbingly similar to an orangutan.
Softly, Hermione gripped Draco's elbow, drawing his attention away from Harry. He looked down at her, silver eyes blazing.
"It's ok, really. I expected him to react like this."
Draco sat back down grudgingly, clearly not pleased to be abandoning his argument with Harry. Hermione ran one hand through her hair, but as she went to place it back on the table, Ron lunged forward and snatched it. He twisted it until it was palm up, revealing the mark on her wrist.
"What the hell is this, Hermione?" She yanked on her arm, but he held it fast. "What is it?" he repeated.
"It's how I communicate with Absalom," she said, mustering as much defiance as she could. "Now, let go of me."
"It's a mark?" Ron said incredulously. "You let him mark you?"
"Malfoy has one too," Harry said contemptuously. His eyes lingered on Draco's arm. "Do you have the Dark Mark to match it?"
Draco sneered and pulled the sleeve of his shirt up to his elbow. "Sorry to disappoint, Potter."
Ron practically threw Hermione's hand back in disgust. "You've lost your mind."
Before Hermione could respond, Ron stood and grabbed a handful of Floo powder out of the canister on the mantle and threw it into the fire.
"The Burrow!" he shouted, and disappeared in a whirl of green flame.
Her stomach sank. It wasn't supposed to end like this.
"Harry-"
"He's right, Hermione," he interrupted. "Absalom, Malfoy – where are your allegiances anymore?"
"Don't insult her like that. You mistook a loyal friend for a fool, and now you have to live with the consequences."
"My allegiance is with the Order. The war hasn't been waiting for you to return. We all have to do what we can-"
Harry snorted. "Befriending Malfoy was a bit above and beyond the call of duty, don't you think?"
He walked to the fireplace and opened the Floo to the Burrow as well. "Let us know when you've put your head on straight, Granger."
The use of her surname was like a kick to her stomach. Not once in the eight years they'd known each other had Harry called her anything other than 'Hermione.'
After Harry vanished to the Burrow as well, Hermione stared numbly at the hearth, not quite believing what just transpired. They'd had their rows before, but this one possessed an air of finality which settled on her shoulders with oppressive severity. After everything she had done for them, they abandoned her – again. But this time the gulf was far wider. She could smell the bridges burning.
It's over.
We're over.
Oh, God.
Hermione hung her head in her hands and wept.
There it was again – that icky, cold, unsettling feeling leaking into his gut. Only this time it was mixed incongruously with some other emotion that was attempting to warm him from the inside out. That emotion wrapped itself around Draco's lungs making it hard to breath and forcing his heart to beat much faster than it should have been.
Watching Hermione sob unabashedly over Potter and Weasley was breaking his heart. There was something so fundamentally wrong with such a strong woman coming undone as she was – especially on their account. She did not deserve this.
Without hesitation, Draco gathered Hermione to his chest and held her there. After a moment, she wrapped her arms around him, and buried her face in his neck. Idly, he twirled one soft caramel curl around his finger. Her hair smelled like apples.
When Hermione finally stopped crying, Draco realized that he was now in the uncomfortable position of needing to say something, but not having a clue as to what. What does one say to someone who has just been deserted by their best friends? Those two dunderheads were accusing Hermione of being disloyal when they were the ones who need a lesson in fidelity.
Ignorant prats.
Hermione removed herself from Draco's embrace and began shyly wiping away any tears which might have lingered on her cheeks.
"Aren't I ridiculous – bawling like some lachrymose school girl," she said. Her voice was strained from crying.
Draco still had no idea what to say. He had little experience with emotional women. Sure, he could offer insultingly banal condolences or reassurances, but he did not want to lie to her either. The male, far less intelligent counterparts of the Golden Trio were known as much for their impulsive acts of bravery (or stupidity, depending on how one viewed it) as they were for their stubbornness – especially where Draco was concerned. They weren't going to budge on this one, thus making the situation decidedly not 'ok' for Hermione.
They were forcing her to choose: him or them.
"Thank you for, eh, being here…for me," Hermione said awkwardly.
Draco snorted, earning him a sharp look from his partner. "Granger, if I weren't here, there wouldn't be a problem."
Hermione's features softened into a disheartened smile (if it could have been called a smile at all). She sighed heavily. "No, even if you weren't here, and hadn't been for the past week, I'd still be sitting here crying. The words wouldn't have been the same, but the end result would have been."
Draco must have appeared incredulous, because she continued without waiting for his reply. It was staggering how quickly she had picked up on all of his minute expressions and mannerisms, whereas at once upon a time his face had been a completely blank mask to her.
"Your being here had no effect on what happened before tonight. Harry and Ron still left me; they still treated me like shit and, even if I never could have admitted it without your…encouragement, I was, and still am, unbelievably angry with them.
"Furthermore, they were just as upset about Absalom as they were about you. There is little doubt in my mind that he still would have shown up here this evening, no matter the circumstances surrounding you and Snape. I still would have gone with him to Tullynally, and I more than likely would have allowed him to mark me."
"Why did you let him mark you?" Draco couldn't help but ask.
Hermione absently ran her fingers over the black tattoo. The skin around it was still an angry red, but if it pained her, she gave no sign. Draco's own was still a bit sore, but not so much that it bothered him.
"Why did you?"
Draco paused to consider. Why had he? It was to his credit alone that his left forearm was absent the Dark Mark. He'd fed the Dark Lord some line about not wanting the honour unless he completed his mission. So why had he allowed a man he'd know for little more than two hours mark him?
After discarding several superficial answers, Draco found the truth.
"Because you're my partner, and I trust you."
Had Hermione's eyebrows shot up any faster, they might have left her face completely. Draco smirked.
"And I'm a Malfoy. Malfoys – by rule – do nothing by half. I'm not pretending we'll get along all the time. Actually, I'd be a little disappointed if we did, but we're in this together. Besides, something tells me he's the kind of bloke you'd want waiting in the wings if you got yourself into a pinch. No pun intended, of course."
Hermione smiled at him – no, not at him, because of him. She smiled that brilliantly genuine smile that made her eyes sparkle and his stomach drop into his knees.
She's beautiful when she smiles.
"Seriously, though; I believe that beneath all the layers of laconic mystery that Absalom is a good man with good intentions. He risked his cover and his life to save Harry, who was immensely ungrateful, and he stayed and fought when he could have just flown away. He didn't even need to come inside with us, but he did."
Staring at her hands, Hermione continued. "I don't understand your motivations, but you did the same thing. You risked your life to fight for the two people you hate most and who hate you in equal measure."
Hermione picked her head up to examine Draco's face before tenderly brushing his fringe, to which he'd been paying no attention, away from his face. Draco found that her eyes, while solemn, were still shining, though he did not know with what. Emotionally, Granger was all over the place, so there was no way of knowing, really.
When she spoke again, her voice was so soft that Draco needed to lean in closer to hear her.
"Tonight you showed me the man you could be, and not the child you were. I'm proud of you."
I'm proud of you.
Four little words and Draco's ears were ringing with them. The four words he had spent his entire life waiting to hear his father say. How was it that those very same words had tumbled from her lips with such ease?
Draco wanted to say something, desperately, but Hermione had caught him completely off guard. What could he say? Everything that came to mind seemed so inadequate.
"Thank you," he whispered, finally.
Yes, definitely inadequate.
Hermione smiled; it was smaller this time, but just as sweet. "Come," she said, standing. "There's something I need to show you."
Still mulling over the very one-sided conversation he's just had, Draco stood and followed. She went to the second floor and entered the room between their bedroom and what he knew to be the door to the library. He noticed that she clutched the banister tightly as she made her way up, and chose her steps carefully and deliberately. She was still not fully recovered from her little display of heroism.
Draco leaned against the doorjamb while she went inside. The room was as small as theirs and contained only a large wardrobe, which had a full-length mirror on the right hand door, and a desk so small he wondered if she even fit beneath it. On it was a stack of books that looked ready to topple at a moments notice. There was however, one item which was conspicuous in its absence: a bed. Draco noticed a head-board shaped void on the dingy wall paper, and wondered if it was created by the bed that she now slept in next door, next to him.
Hermione crossed to the wardrobe, opened it, and knelt on the floor. There were two drawers inside and she pulled open the bottom one. From the drawer she withdrew the familiar black letterbox which held Snape's memories.
Draco allowed himself to become the teeniest bit excited at the prospect of watching the one memory contained in that box which he had yet to see.
"Granger?" he asked, hoping for an explanation.
She closed the wardrobe and exited the room. Draco moved aside to let her pass.
"Absalom was right," she said, walking down the hall towards the stairs. "I need to tell you; you need to know what happened."
Although the question had been driving him mad since he had first seen the scars that marred Hermione's back, Draco felt the most ridiculous urge to tell her she didn't have to tell him anything she didn't want to. Hermione was obviously uncomfortable with the subject. He recalled her telling Absalom that no one else knew what happened. Had she even kept it from the Healer who had attended her? He literally had to bite his tongue to keep from saying it.
Instead, he followed her to the third floor. She stopped two doors down from the study and whispered something into the keyhole. With a click, the door sprang open.
This room was a bit larger and held two beds, two dressers, and a closet. Hermione lit the lamps on the dresser tops with a flick of her wand.
"This is Harry and Ron's room," she explained as though the Chudley Cannons posters tackying up the walls was not evidence enough.
She knelt between the twin mattresses and reached beneath the far bed, muffling her voice. "I thought we'd just watch it up here." She slid the Pensieve out and unlatched its case. "Save us the trouble of carrying it."
Without waiting for an invitation, Draco sat cross-legged on the floor so that the Pensieve was between them. Hermione opened the letterbox and found the small glass phial with the number four etched on the side before dumping the silver liquid inside. It swirled around for a moment and then was still.
Hermione had her knees beneath her and her hands on her thighs. She was nervously cracking her knuckles with her thumbs. "Before we go in, I should give you some background information."
Draco nodded for her to continue. He was afraid the sound of voice would cause her to flee the room. She was terribly on edge, and had become increasingly so since they'd left the kitchen.
"We went to Ipswich looking for something. I can't tell you what – just know that it was important. It took us a little over two weeks but we finally found this mausoleum. We went in after dark because it was a Muggle cemetery, and did not want anyone to see what we were doing.
"After we found what we were looking for, the vampires attacked. There was an entire coven living beneath the mausoleum, Malfoy."
Both of Draco's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. Vampires were uncommon in England, especially in such large numbers. A coven usually consisted of about thirty vampires, plus or minus. He wondered why they would be in a mausoleum in Ipswich, of all places.
"The memory begins just as we're escaping the mausoleum. Harry used a Blasting spell to blow a hole in one of the walls on the main floor."
"That's why he tried to do it at the castle," Draco said, more to himself than to Hermione.
She nodded. "Only, the castle was spelled against destruction hundreds of years ago, even as the stones were being laid. The Concealment charms faded, but the others remained intact."
An uneasy silence fell over them. Hermione was clearly dreading reliving the memory, which Draco could understand, but at the same time it was completely lost on him. She certainly had no qualms about rushing headlong into the situations that created the memories she wished to repress.
"You don't have to go in with me, Granger," he said. "I think I can bring myself out when it's done."
She closed her eyes and shook her head sharply. "I need to. I need to see what happened to me from someone else's point of view. Merlin knows replaying my version hasn't done anything but keep me awake at night. Maybe I can get some closure."
"If you insist," Draco said, still sounding uncertain.
"Let's get this over with."
Draco entered the Pensieve first this time. He was sitting on a tree branch about ten meters in the air next to a black hawk he immediately recognized as Absalom. After a second, Hermione appeared on the branch next to him. Despite her insistence, he'd still not quite fully expected her to join him.
A moment later, the sound of stone exploding nearby was heard clearly in the otherwise silent graveyard. It was not far away, and was close enough that Draco could easily see in the bright moonlight. A hole big enough for a man to climb through had just been blown out of the side of a moderately sized, completely non-descript mausoleum.
"Hurry up, Hermione!" Weasley shouted from within.
Potter stumbled out of the hole, covered in dirt, dust and not a few scrapes and cuts. Hermione fell out next, rather ungracefully, followed shortly by Ron. They, too, were covered in white powder, too.
"Ron and I were holding them off while Harry performed the Blasting spell," Hermione whispered. Her voice was strained, her body tense and rigid beside him. Draco wanted to put his arm around her shoulders, but was not sure if the gesture would be appreciated. Instead he asked, "Why didn't you just Disapparate?"
"There was an Anti-Apparition shield about twenty meters in every direction. We checked before we went in."
Quickly, the trio began scrambling away from the tomb, but the vampires were faster. In no time, the surrounded the teens, forcing them to stop and face the attackers back to back. Harry fired the first curse; Hermione and Ron were quick to join in. However, the vampires were much more experienced when it came to fighting (or hunting. Draco shivered.), and they seriously outnumbered the trio. Draco estimated there were about twenty-five in the graveyard; there might have been more inside, too.
It did not take long for the vampires to separate them. It was an intense battle, even just watching. Draco couldn't imagine having had to participate. He had a sudden, new-found respect for Hermione. Even without Potter's alleged imparted powers, she was a brilliant and skilled witch. It looked like she was dancing more than fighting for her life; her motions were so natural and seemingly effortless.
After several minutes of hurling curse after curse that the attackers, Hermione had not killed any, but she had managed to keep all eight of them in front of her. She had her back to Harry, who was about twelve meters away. He had killed two, but still had seven to deal with.
Weasley, who was on the opposite side of Harry, was not doing so well. He was doing so poorly, in fact, that Draco was amazed he was still alive. No sooner had Draco thought this did Ron stumble backwards over a bit of debris from the explosion, and was caught by a tall female vampire.
Hermione gasped next to him as the vampiress sunk her teeth into Ron's neck. The shock of it caused him to drop his wand, leaving him defenseless.
On the ground, Hermione cast Incendio, keeping the vampires at bay and gaining herself some breathing space.
Swiftly, the struggle was leaving Ron as his life's force was being drained.
The absence of Ron's voice caused Harry to turn and search for him. He spotted him just as the vampiress let Ron's body drop heavily to the ground in an untidy heap. It was frightening, the alacrity with which Potter summoned his magic. Draco could have sworn he felt it on his skin, even though he was in a memory.
Hermione snatched his hand, nearly crushing it with her grip. Draco squeezed back in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.
"Ron!" Harry screamed, painfully. He expelled the magic with the force of his voice in a blinding flash of white light, just like Hermione's healing spell.
Only this time death and destruction followed, not life.
The sudden silence which settled after the blast was deafening. The magic had apparently been concentrated at his hands, shredding everything from the waist up. Weasley had been spared as he was in an unconscious pile on the ground. Harry stood in the middle, chest heaving with exertion, but unharmed. The vampires had been obliterated, reduced to piles of ash, and for the younger ones, bones.
Hermione, however, had not fared so well. She laid sprawled face down on the ground, unmoving. Her jumper was destroyed, and Draco knew from the scars that the magic had sliced her up like shards of glass would.
Harry ran to Ron when he regained composure, adrenaline giving him strength to weather the massive expenditure of power. Or maybe it did not affect him like it did Hermione.
Rolling his friend onto his back, Harry began checking for any signs of life. He shouted for Hermione. "I need your help! Ron's dying!"
It took him a moment to realize that she was not responding. Harry jumped up and began scanning the cemetery for Hermione. He found her quickly.
"Oh, God," he said, rushing to her side. He rolled her over as well. She was breathing shallowly, but had lost a lot of blood. It was unlikely she would awake any time soon, or without medical attention.
Harry grabbed a nearby chunk of stone and shoved it into Hermione's hand. Then he pointed his wand at it and said, "Portus."
Hermione blinked out of existence.
Harry then rushed back to Ron and did the same thing, holding onto his other hand. When the cemetery was empty, Absalom squawked, nearly startling Draco right out of his skin, and flew away.
The memory began to fade to grey, and Hermione drew them out.
Draco stared at her. She stared at the Pensieve.
So it was Potter's fault.
Without saying a word, Hermione drew the memory out with her wand and refilled the phial before putting the small glass bottle in the letterbox. She closed the Pensieve case and shoved it back under the bed. When she finished, they stood together.
Hermione was looking everywhere but at Draco. She had her bottom lip caught between her teeth so tightly he thought she might draw blood. Hooking a finger beneath her chin, he tilted her face upward, forcing her to look at him. The night had taken its toll on her; she looked absolutely exhausted.
"Look," he said, "let's go down stairs. I'll make some tea; then we can talk – if you want."
"Okay."
Draco stepped aside, politely allowing Hermione to walk ahead of him. On the second floor, Hermione left to replace the black wooden box in the wardrobe while Draco continued down to the kitchen. While he prepared their tea, he thought.
Now that he knew what happened, he needed to assimilate it with the other information he had gleaned from their behavior and conversations. They were looking for something – three somethings. These items (had Potter said one was a wand?) had something to do with Voldemort, and were important enough for them to risk their lives.
Not that they're unaccustomed to that.
Draco also knew that Harry had a hero complex far too large for his small, unfortunate brain. He could see Harry leaving Hermione behind to complete his little quest on his own, but that did not explain why he brought Ron. Of the two, Hermione was by far the more intelligent and talented. She was clever and resourceful – two things neither of the boys were. Hermione and Ron had been both been gravely injured, so why the discrepancy?
No, there was definitely something else going on, some other factor his equation was lacking. Something happened after, and Hermione had been picking up the pieces ever since.
Draco poured the tea – one sugar for him, and two sugars with cream for her. One did not eat breakfast with another everyday and not know how they took their tea.
He went upstairs, a cup in each hand, and found the bedroom door opened. Hermione was seated on her bed, looking out the window. She had changed into pajamas, navy blue sweatpants and a white t-shirt. He could see her bra through the flimsy material, but immediately and forcibly threw that thought out of his head. The last thing he needed to be thinking about was the fact that Hermione was wearing pink underwear.
Draco sat next to her, infinitely more aware than he would have liked to have been, and handed Hermione her cup of tea. They sipped in silence until she relaxed a bit.
"I know this witch – a terribly smart girl – who once told me that talking about things make them easier to bear."
Hermione expelled a heavy breath she'd apparently been holding in. "And?"
"And I'm listening."
Sighing, she put her cup on the floor and spun around on the bed so she was facing him. She tucked one leg beneath her and left the other dangling over the edge.
"Where do you want me to begin?" she asked tiredly.
"After."
She barked out a short, bitter laugh. "After? I woke up two weeks later, practically a Squib."
It was Draco's turn to have his eyebrows try to escape his face. The statement did not fit with the powerful woman sitting next to him.
"Whatever Harry did to me, it completely tore down my magic. I spent weeks in the Hospital Wing rebuilding it." Hermione hung her head and stared at her pants where she was distractedly pulling a loose thread from the cuff. "They left before I was discharged."
A fresh wave of anger crashed into Draco. He, too, set his cup on the floor – so he wouldn't crush it in his hand.
Those fucking bastards.
Draco knew that Hermione would never dream of leaving either one of them in any state other than perfect health. He took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself. "What about Weasley? He almost died, too. Why wasn't he left behind?"
Hermione blushed scarlet and shifter uncomfortably. The old mattress squeaked loudly. She worried her bottom lip briefly.
"There were…extenuating circumstances where Ron was concerned. In many ways his leaving was harder than Harry's."
Draco furrowed his brow, wondering what she meant. The pained expression on her face, however, stopped the question on his tongue.
She shook her head as if to clear it. "But that's not really pertinent," she said dismissively. "It doesn't change anything." When she spoke again it was with a forced lightness.
"I sat my NEWTs at the end of June, and began training with Tonks and Moody about a week later.
"Training?"
Hermione nodded. "Dueling, hand-to-hand combat – basic Auror stuff. It was then that I realized I was more powerful than I should have been."
"How so?" Draco asked. This was getting more and more interesting.
Hermione smiled sheepishly. "The first time it happened, Tonks and I were sparring in the attic. I punched her in the chest and she flew across the room. I'd accidentally put some magic behind it." She paused before adding quickly, "But I've never done anything like I did tonight. It was kind of scary."
"Don't forget reckless."
She stared at her foot, embarrassed either by her actions or by Draco's teasing.
"Reckless, but brilliant. You saved our lives, Granger. You have nothing to be embarrassed about; you should be proud of yourself."
Hermione finally met Draco's gaze. Her dark eyes were shining with unshed tears. The expression on her face was a mix of sorrow and gratitude. "Too bad Harry and Ron don't share your point of view."
She blinked and a single tear slid down her cheek. Draco had seen and heard quite enough. Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley did not deserve her tears, or her friendship in his opinion.
Draco reached out and brushed the tear away before twining his fingers in her curly hair. He leaned in close so she could hear him whisper.
"Potter and Weasley don't know what they lost when they gave you up."
He barely registered her sharp intake of breath before he pressed his lips to hers. Hermione responded immediately, hungrily, as though she'd been waiting for him to kiss her. Draco certainly had been. Ever since the steamy encounter in the kitchen, he'd wanted to taste her again.
Hermione opened her mouth, and he slid his tongue inside. She tasted of honey and chamomile. Wrapping her hand around his neck, she pulled herself closer, drawing her free leg up across his lap.
Draco gripped her hip tightly, feeling her tantalizingly smooth skin where her shirt rode up. Wanting to feel more, he slid his hand farther up her back.
Hermione moaned deliciously and arched her back, sending most of the blood in Draco's body southbound. He broke the kiss and placed one, two, three tender kisses along her neck before staring into her eyes. Her chest was heaving with excitement and her cheeks coloured the most enticing shade of pink he'd ever seen.
She looked at him uncertainly, chewing her lip, and searching his face for any sign of rejection. Draco smiled and kissed her once more, briefly. She smiled back, turning his insides to jelly.
"It's late. You need some sleep," he said.
"Saving lives is hard work," she said seriously, but the sparkle in her eyes belied her tone.
"Tell me about it."
Hermione laughed and began untangling herself from him. Draco stood.
"I want a shower," he said. The truth was he needed a shower – a cold one. "I feel filthy; that castle was a nightmare."
"You are filthy."
"You're not exactly a model for cleanliness, yourself, right now."
"Perhaps not, but I can't be half as dirty as you are," she said as she scooted back and tugged the blankets from beneath her pillow.
Draco went to his dresser and retrieved a pair of pajama bottoms. "I won't be long," he said.
When she didn't say anything, Draco turned to look at her. She was already curled up underneath the blankets, facing his bed with her eyes closed. He walked as quietly as he could towards the door, but Hermione's voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Goodnight, Draco."
His name had never sounded so sweet before. There was also the fact that his mother and Snape had been the only people to ever use it.
"Draco?"
"It's a bit silly to snog someone and not call them by their given name, don't you think?" she said, opening her eyes. "Besides, 'Draco' sounds so much less… contemptuous than 'Malfoy.'"
"Leave it to you to use enormous words when you're completely knackered."
Hermione rolled her eyes in a very Hermione-like way, but smiled nevertheless. "Yeah, yeah. Exhaustion is no excuse for limiting one's vocabulary."
Draco snickered softly. It was good to see her back to her old self again. Weepy did not suit her in the least, although he could not deny that he didn't mind being her shoulder to cry on. Draco's mind came screeching to a halt.
So much for keeping it professional.
You didn't really expect that to last, did you?
You are so in over your head.
Shower. Now.
"Goodnight, Hermione."
Draco left and closed the door behind him, grinning like a sodding idiot all the way to the loo. He could still taste her.
A/N: Once again, many, many thanks to Lyr942 for her depthless wisdom and clever ideas. Her guidance is invaluable. And if you liked the kiss, thank princesswendy and Lyr942 for talking me into it.
I hoped everyone enjoyed the long stretch of Draco/Hermione action, because up next there's lots of plot. Lots and lots of plot.
As always, I would like to thank my reviewers! You're all wonderful, and I can't believe that you've stuck with me this far! I really value your thoughts and opinions, so keep 'em comin'!