Disclaimer: Not mine...
Chapter 13
Yes!
He twirled his wand between his fingers. The corner of his mouth turned up into an almost thrilled smirk. His grey eyes, normally as cold as ice, sparkled with an excited fire. His blonde hair fell forward, obscuring part of his vision and brushing the tip of his nose.
Ready, Granger?
One of his eyebrows rose slightly as if to emphasize the question he knew was echoing inside her head.
She stood before him, only feet away in the Great Hall. Professor Lestrange had led them there, where they would have more room to move. The tables were pushed out of the way creating a wide open space. She looked almost relaxed, her hand wrapped loosely around her wand. He began to wonder how easy this was going to be. The disappointment that he was not going to get to duel Hermione Granger, but only the broken version of her almost made him pause.
Slowly the corner of her mouth turned up, a smirk of her own with eyes set on him like a target, sparkling with an almost dangerous excitement. She wasn't sure exactly what came over her. She didn't know if it was the excitement of getting to duel, the stress from who the professor was or something else. But in that moment it was as if some other person inside of her reared her head and before she could even think of what she was doing, the words were echoing with a slight hint of a taunt in Draco's head.
The little boy wants to play?
And suddenly Hermione had a tight hold of her wand and was bringing it up, down and over slightly in a swooping motion. Draco was fast, quickly defending himself, blocking her curse and jumping out of the way. She could hear him laughing in her head.
Careful there, Cupcake. Starting to sound like my dear sweet Aunt Bella.
His smirk grew with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes as he called her "cupcake." Her eyes narrowed. She could hear him still laughing inside her head as he dodged another of her hexes and blocked the one that quickly followed, his hair falling across both eyes.
You're Aunt Bella is sweet like poison.
Even though he was not laughing out loud, she could still hear it in her head and the sparkle in his eyes spoke of one laughing.
Now, now…play nice, Cupcake.
He heard her growl.
Don't call me that.
There was something comforting about it. There was something familiar with their exchange.
Don't call you what? Cupcake?
She growled under her breath, not just in his head and he knew he had just found the most magnificent button.
Cupcake.
She angrily threw a curse his way. He laughed as he dodged it.
Cupcake.
She threw another curse.
Cup…cake.
She growled, loudly, drawing the attention of the students closest to them. This time he didn't just dodge the curse, he repelled it, sending it bouncing back at her, but Hermione was never a slow girl. She easily dodged her own curse and glared menacingly at Draco. He had not sent one curse her way yet, letting her do all the attacking and doing nothing more than dodging each curse she threw.
Cupcake, you do realize I can hear every curse you send before you send it? Surely the brains of the Golden Trio has realized this.
"I SAID STOP CALLING ME THAT!"
Her voice echoed in the Great Hall; her curse flew through the air, a dark aura surrounding it. Draco quickly moved to the side, recognizing the curse for what it was…something old…something ancient…something almost questionable in its darkness and he was stunned into silence as his eyes turned to the side, looking at her through his curtain of blond hair.
I'm not the brains of the Golden Trio here...you are.
That's when he noticed, when he first realized her very identity within the wizarding world was dependent on those two Gryffindor boys' need for her intelligence. As long as they needed her, she had a place…a right to be here. And he noticed it as she stood there, shaking from fear of what she possibly just cast and fear of something else. Her family had been ripped away from her. The one thing that still anchored her in the muggle world had been severed most savagely. And now, the one thing that seemed to give her reason and meaning to even exist in the wizarding world was gone as well, replaced with a lie she knew did not exist in her reality, her friends, now his. They both stood there, chests heaving in an attempt to catch their breath, eyes locked on each other.
It came in a flash, almost headache inducing in its abrupt and quick movement from one moment to the next, like scenes in a movie being flashed quickly on a screen. Wands were pointing at each other, hers shaking with anger; then quickly the scene flashed to eyes behind a mask and she felt the funny little skip of her heart. Quickly the scene flashed to dancing, a couple spinning around the dance floor and then it quickly flashed to what she couldn't really truly decide. There was a knee, bent and bare. The inner thigh seemed pressed against something or someone. A hand ran up the leg, gently tracing a pattern over the knee and up the thigh and that was when she realized the knee in the vision had the exact same tiny scar that she had on the inside of her knee. Before she could fully push the vision out of her head, the hand ran up the thigh and gripped the hips tightly, thumb just barely caressing the small tattoo of the letter D.
Granger, what the blood hell are you thinking about?
She blinked, almost confused and looked around. Draco wasn't the only one looking at her strangely. Pansy had stopped dueling with Harry, her wand down at her side as she looked upon Hermione with genuine concern.
I don't know, Draco. Those aren't mine!
Draco never got a chance to ask what she meant. He came up from behind her, his fingers dancing a caressing trail up her arm as he bent down to whisper into her ear, his eyes steadily watching Draco.
"I do like to play with the feisty ones."
Her wand dropped to the floor, the sound of the wood hitting the stone floor and then rolling seeming to echo in her ears. Draco looked down at the wand at his feet and slowly glanced up at Hermione. Her eyes were wide. She was stiff as a board and looked ready to jump out of her skin.
"Does my little one want to play?"
She tried shaking her head. No, she didn't want to play. Her instincts were telling her to run as far away as she could. Draco watched the stiff way she shook her head and the way she bit her bottom lip until she was bleeding as he bent down to pick up her wand. He sauntered over to her as Lestrange wrapped his arm around her upper half, pinning the top of her arms to her body. Draco nearly paused in his approach as he felt a jolt of anger surge through him.
Draco put her wand in her hand, pulled out a tissue from his pocket and started to wipe the blood from her lip.
"Get your hands off her, Mudblood," some Slytherin yelled out.
Draco glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowed searching for the culprit. His eyes scanned every Slytherin student present. Most of the students had already looked away from Hermione's strange outburst and were back to their own duels. Pansy stood there though, a bit closer to Harry than he would have thought she would stand. Her arms were crossed daintily over her chest and she was looking at Draco, her eyes bouncing between him and Hermione with a grin on her face—as if she knew some secret.
Draco turned back around and roughly shoved the blood stained tissue into Hermione's hand.
He can't hurt you, Hermione…not here…not now.
He turned to walk away.
Draco.
The sound of the voice in his head was desperate, so filled with fear that it froze his steps. He slowly turned back around.
Cupcake.
He didn't know why he said it. Before it had simply been a way to anger her and it had worked beautifully. This time the tone was different, softer, no taunting tone to his voice, but a playful little sigh. Her lips twitched, a hint of a smile approaching her lips when suddenly Lestrange pulled her tighter back against him. What had been the start of a small smile, quickly turned and Draco heard the slight whimper.
Draco felt it like a small flame dancing inside of him and slowly it was growing, becoming a raging fire. The anger that was building up inside of him was trapped; he was unable to release it. Not here. His hand tightened around his wand and his free hand balled up into a fist at his side. He could see Hermione shaking.
"Why are you frightened, Little One?" Lestrange whispered into her ear his finger gently caressing her jaw line and moving slowly down her neck. "I would never hurt what is mine."
The rest of the class may not have been paying attention, sans Pansy and by default Harry, but Draco heard Lestrange's words quite clearly and the fire that was raging with in him seemed to explode as if someone had just added gasoline to the fire. It was sudden, grabbing the attention of the whole class as Lestrange suddenly cried out in agonizing pain, releasing his grip on Hermione as he crumpled to the floor writhing in agony.
"Professor Lestrange!"
Several students called his name as the entire student body seemed to circle around their fallen professor.
Get her out of here!
That strange voice that was oddly like his own echoed in his head. This time he did not question where it came from or why he was hearing it. He quickly grabbed both their bags off the floor, slinging both of them on his shoulder and reached out, grabbing her wrist from behind, pulling her back toward him.
No one seemed to notice their movement. Hermione was frozen though, staring at the prone professor in shock. Pansy noticed though. She knew what Draco was trying to do and quickly she grabbed Harry by his hand and pulled him with her, moving their position in front of the Hermione, blocking her view of the professor and blocking anyone from really noticing their movement out the door.
Come on, Hermione!
He pulled her back and she turned, her wide fearful eyes looking at Draco.
What happened?
He pulled her through the door.
I don't know!
Harry, not sure what was going on, glanced over his shoulder to see nothing but the door closing and turned to look curiously at Pansy. She smiled brightly at him and leaned over slightly so that only he could hear her whispered words.
"So, tell me about this infamous broomstick of yours, Potter."
000000
The thunder rolled across the grounds. The lightening flashed in the night sky, lighting the dreary wet grounds of Hogwarts for a moment and causing the castle to cast a large looming shadow over the land.
He fell against the black wrought iron gate, his fingers holding the bars tightly as he paused taking several gasping breaths. He had to make it. Even if he only got through the gates he knew he would find shelter…he would find his sanctuary. They helped Severus all those years ago when his mouth was the direct cause of the Potters' death. They would help him too, right?
He hoped.
He doubted.
He leaned his forehead against the cold iron of the gate and gasped for air. The rain continued to pour down, pelting him. His long dark hair hung loosely, falling forward and dripping with rain.
"Save me…oh please, save me," he whispered against the night and rain. Slowly his eyes looked up, scanning the height of the gates. It was like he was standing at Heaven's gates and he was not going to get in. He did not belong. His broken wings had long since fallen and he had been baptized by the devil himself, but now…now he so desperately wanted to be saved.
"Please," he whispered again.
As if the gates could hear his prayers, his hushed pleas, they swung open. He fell forward, falling to his hands and knees on the wet path that led up to the castle entrance. His movements were painstakingly slow, but he was able to get back on his feet. He stumbled up the path, keeping only the castle in sight, willing himself to continue at least far enough up the path that he would be found.
He was broken.
He had been forsaken.
His god had removed his favor from him.
And the removal of such favor always came with tremendous pain and eventual death. But it was family and he would do anything for his family, even if it meant defying his god and keeping secrets from him, locking them away where he could not reach them. Anything for his family…no promise could ever be broken to family, even if that meant becoming one of the wicked in the eyes of his god.
But like any other god, he knows…he always knows.
And the consequences are unspeakable.
He stumbled up the steps, falling against the castle door. The weight of his body pushed the unlocked doors open and he fell into the castle, his body hitting the flag stone floor with a sickening thud.
Severus' head turned quickly at the sound. His movements were swift as he moved across the main entranceway and looked down at the wet mass lying on the floor.
"Severus, what is it?" McGonagall asked as she rushed down the main staircase, her eyes locked on the form lying just within the door.
Severus glanced up at her, his face expressionless.
"It would appear the Dark Lord has called his bluff…Lestrange has shown his cards…his true loyalty has been revealed."
00000
"I don't know exactly what happened," Pansy said as she stepped over Hermione's legs where she had her feet propped on the table in front of her and plopped down next to her on the sofa. "But rumor has it Madame Pomfrey said it looked like someone performed the Cruciatus curse on Professor Lestrange." Her bright curious eyes turned to Hermione.
Hermione was flipping blindly through her Potions text book. She wasn't really reading the chapter they were assigned. She had already read it before school even started and then two more times before they even got to that point in the text book. Pansy had a magazine in her lap, flipping through the pages rather quickly, as if her excitement of the day's events had manifested itself in her hands.
"So, tell me, Hermione," Pansy said, looking at her. "All I saw was Professor Lestrange had a hold of you…Lover Boy looked ready to kill him and then next thing I know, the professor went down and Romeo was escaping with his Juliet."
Hermione sighed and slammed her book shut, dropping her feet to the floor.
"Pans," Hermione started, not sure where the shortened name came from, but something telling her it was right to use. "You do know they both die at the end of that play right?"
Pansy blinked. Her smile faded and she looked around for a second.
"Oh…right," she said. "Forgot that bit." Pansy shrugged turning back to her magazine. "Well, at least Juliet didn't die a virgin."
Hermione rolled her eyes and stood up, shaking her head. Pansy watched her move across the common room and toward the stairs that would lead her far above the common room, to a room with a window overlooking the lake. Pansy turned on the sofa.
"Hermione, is Lover Boy paying you a visit tonight?"
Hermione paused at the bottom of the steps.
"Pans, really!"
"Oh come on!" Pansy said with exasperation. "When the cats away…"
"No, Pansy. Can't believe you would even think…with him!"
Pansy shrugged her shoulders.
"Hey…you are being forced to marry who your parents want you to. There is nothing in the rules saying you can't have a toy before that ring is on your finger."
Hermione simply looked at Pansy as if she had snakes coming out of her head. Was this girl serious? She didn't even deign to respond to her so called best friend. Hermione turned back toward the steps.
"Hermione!"
"No, Pansy."
00000
He lay in the four poster bed bedecked in Gryffindor colors. The covers draped across his bottom half. One hand lay across his bare chest while the other lay on the bed next to him. His breathing was ragged and sharp. Each breath came as a near gasp, desperate for air. His skin glistened in the moonlight as the sweat seeped from his pores. His head moved back and forth, his blonde hair falling across his face…
The moonlight fell through the window, speckling the corridor floor with light.
"Hermione, dear! Are you coming? Your father has the popcorn ready."
She smiled as she passed quickly through the light, bouncing down the stairs, her eyes lingering on the various family pictures that lined the staircase wall.
"I'm coming!" She said cheerily as she reached out and straightened one of the pictures, the most recent family photo.
She turned to continue her hop down the stairs, but found chocolate eyes staring at her.
"NO!" She yelled and suddenly tried to rush down the rest of the stairs, but he grabbed her, gave her not one second and tossed her over his shoulder.
It was Lestrange and he spoke to her, but the sound was muffled, drowned out by her screaming and then there was nothing but a deafening silence coupled with a darkness that seemed to engulf her.
"Let me out! Mum! Dad!" She was screaming at the top of her lungs. "NO! It's me you want!" She banged on the doors.
Suddenly sound rushed in. There was nothing but agonizing screams and vicious laughter.
"No!" She screamed so hard, so long that her voice began to crack. She banged on the doors until her knuckles began to bleed and then began to scratch at the door until her nails began to break off at odd angles and her fingers began to bleed. "You want me! Not them! NO! Not them!"
That was the night the rain started. Draco woke up, gasping for air, the sound of the rain pelting the window echoing in the room.
Go to her!
The voice in his head didn't even give him time to register the dream, to try to figure it out, it answered for him, told him what to do and he just blindly followed because if anything, it felt right.
00000
She found it in her desk drawer tucked beneath some blank parchment. It was leather bound with a crest embossed on the cover and it held a certain elegance that only money could truly buy. The images of her nightmare began to fade as the curiosity took hold.
Hermione crossed her room and quickly settled herself in the middle of her bed, the leather bound book lying in front of her. She simply stared at the book, unsure if she should open it, after all it looked to be some sort of journal or diary. It was something private and personal and she had no business looking in it, after all it wasn't hers.
Slowly, she looked up from the book, her eyes settling on the silver self standing full length mirror. She could see herself, dressed in her white silken gown with the empire waist and tight fitting bosom with the straps that were maybe half an inch thick. It was like staring at some far away version of herself; a version that was centuries old. It was her though. This was her life here and perhaps between the leather bound cover of that book stood secrets she needed to know.
Because this was her life.
Until they could find a way back home.
She nibbled her bottom lip as she flipped through the pages as if afraid she would be caught; a silly idea when she really thought about it. The rain continued to pound against her window and wind howled. It was all pretty standard it seemed at first. Mostly talk of Theo and hers arranged marriage, how much she loves Theo…like a brother and how daunting life at home could be. How hard a rich kid's life was.
Each page seemed filled with the same things, the same worries, the same complaints and yet within everything that seemed so completely normal for a teenage girl of her social standing to complain about there was something much darker, much more sinister lurking around the edges of those complaints, tainting them, making them so much…more.
And then with one entry it all changed.
…He approached me from across the dance floor. His eyes, almost colorless in their grey hue, burned deep into mine as he weaved his way between dancers. When he stood before me, he said nothing, but his gentle hands took my wrists and lifted my hands up palms facing him. His fingers barely touched me, leaving nothing more than a whispering trail from my fingertip to my palm, the crooked smile behind his mask shining in his eyes…I danced with him all night…and not once did he speak…
It was fascinating. The more she read about this night the more she noticed it starting to sound like a romance novel, except that it wasn't; it was her life here in this reality. She was the heroine in this leather bound novel of intrigue and her hero was a masked man.
Despite how ridiculous it seemed, how totally out of character for her to be pining away for some masked man like she was the lead in some old movie, Hermione still found herself completely enthralled with the tale unfolding within these entries. Each entry seemed more desperate, more lost within this hero.
After this ball came the letters, never signed, but always addressed to her. In her excitement to find the end of this tale, to know its ending, she flipped hurriedly to the last page that had been written. She hoped to find out who he was; how this was reconciled and she hoped against hope that her and Draco's potions accident had not disrupted anything of importance.
The entry was the night before they arrived in this reality.
I sent father the letter begging him to forgive me of this arranged marriage. I simply cannot marry one man when I long for another. I cannot close my eyes without seeing him…hearing him…and yet, I know without a doubt it is forbidden for me. I know the moment father finds out who he is, I may very well be in danger, he may very well be in danger.
I cannot allow that.
And yet, I cannot stay away.
There is nothing I can do for it.
Nothing I can do to stop it.
We did the binding…we wear each other's blood around our necks…bound eternally. They will never tear us apart…NEVER.
Only death can undo what we've done.
I live every second with him like it's the last one because I know it may just be. And even in death the truth will remain…the truth they will never take away from us…never.
I am irrevocably and hopelessly in love with Draco Malfoy.
It all happened at once. She slammed the journal as if it had burned her, the wind growing angry thrust her window open pushing it back against her wall and startling her so.
But it wasn't until she rushed across the room to close the window, until she stood there, the rain beating into her window and onto her feet, the wind pushing against the skirt of her gown, until she stood there staring into the pouring rain at the blond hovering outside her window on a broomstick that she could see those eyes flashing behind a mask, that she heard the words written in that journal echoing in her own head.
I am irrevocably and hopelessly in love with Draco Malfoy.
It wasn't until that very moment she knew everything had changed…nothing would be the same again.
Notes: Hmmm...will she tell Draco what she found? I wonder...oh wait...I already know!