All characters belong to JKRowling
Chapter 14 – Righting a Wrong
Scorpius said the incantation that had been written by Helga Hufflepuff. Then he added the last line…the line that only a member of the Black family could read from the book:
"And then those of you without sin shall cast the first stone. Those of you whose love is pure of heart, and who shall give your life selflessly, shall have your love's life brought back to you . . . ."
Before he could finish the incantation, a scraping noise could be heard at the mouth of the mausoleum, as if someone was opening the heavy oak doors and the bottoms were scuffing across the stone floors. Hermione and Scorpius turned toward the sound to watch and wait.
"STOP!" a man begged. "You can't do this! I won't let you do this!" It was Draco Malfoy. No one had seen him in a year and he looked worse for wear. Thin, haggard, and emanating sadness, he reached for the black book, which dangled from his son's hands, and swatted it so that it landed on the floor. "I won't let you die for her!"
Hermione walked up to him, slapped him hard across the face, leaving a handprint on his cheek. She seethed, "No, but you'll let my daughter die to bring us home!"
"She didn't have to die!" he moaned. "We would have come home eventually! And I've tried, and tried to bring her back! Don't you think I've tried! Do you hate me so much, Granger, that you would take my son's life in exchange for your daughter's life? What good would that do? They would both be dead!"
"It's not like that, Father," Scorpius began, leaning down to pick up the black book. As he stood, his hand went to the heavy amulet that felt like a lead weight around his neck.
Hermione walked between father and son and said, "I didn't ask him to do this, and I wouldn't do it if I thought he would die! He said it would bring her back. And she's not really gone, but merely in a form of stasis! I know that much is true, and he said he could bring her back! All I had to do was give him the stone, freely! He already had the book!" She pulled on Draco's shirt and begged, "Let him try! Please! He's an adult now, and can choose for himself, and he wants to do this. Let him try!"
"NO! It won't work! She's gone, Hermione! I'm sorry, and you can kill me as retribution, but Rose is dead and gone!"
Scorpius ignored the pair. He knew his father was wrong. It had to be him. He was the only one who could bring Rose back. He should have been the one to bring their parents back to the present a year ago, not her, because she did it for the wrong reasons, and she had hate in her heart for his father, but Rose wouldn't listen to reason back then, just as Hermione and his father wouldn't listen to reason today.
When his father tried to right all the wrongs, he too did it for the wrong reasons, for he did it out of guilt and remorse, instead of out of love and purity.
When Hermione tried to bring Rose back, she failed as well, because she had too much anger in her heart…anger at Draco, at the world, at herself.
It had to be him. He was the only one doing it for selfless reasons, and the only one doing it out of love. It was the last self-guard placed on the stone by Gryffindor and his 'power of three' curse.
He started the incantation again.
Scorpius whispered to Rose, "I love you. I mean, I'm in love with you."
"Really?" she whispered back, hoarsely.
He nodded slightly, his hand still in her hair, but moving to her face, to caress her cheek.
She moved her hand from his chest to his face. She thought he was one of the most handsome boys…no…men, she had ever known. He was actually beautiful, inside and out, despite his upbringing, and his parents. Tracing her fingers around his mouth, slowly, she said, "I'm in love with you, too. I have been for most of my life."
"I didn't know that," he replied. "I always thought you thought I was a pain in the arse."
She smiled and said, "You're a pain in the arse, but you're my pain in the arse."
"You have a way with words, Rose Red," he joked. He smiled at her and brushed his knuckles down her face. "What would I do without you? I don't even want to know what a world would be like without you, Rosie."
"You won't have to know, Scorpius," she promised.
"But what you're planning, or what I think you're planning, is dangerous," he declared.
She pushed away from him and said, "You have no clue as to what I'm planning."
He took a deep breath and said, "Yes I do. You read something in one of those books that led you to believe there's a counter curse placed on The First Stone. One placed there by Hufflepuff, which will allow you to bring our parents back, right?"
She nodded.
"You're right. There is, but you can't use it," he declared.
"Yes I can," she said stubbornly. "I'll find it, in one of those books, and I'll use it, you'll see! No one can tell me I can't!"
"That's not what I mean," he argued. He shook his head and rubbed his temple with his fingers. He didn't want to explain it to her right now, but only two people had the power to bring their parents back, and she wasn't one of them, but he didn't have the heart to tell her so.
He wished his father had done things differently, but he knew he felt desperate, so he could find it in his heart to forgive him, but he wondered if Hermione or Rose would ever be able to do the same. He stood up and said, "Let's go back to our seats. I don't want to discuss it any longer."
She stood as quickly as he did and took his arm. "Are you angry, Scorpius? I couldn't stand it if you were angry with me. I'm holding on right now, by a mere thread, anyway, and that thread is anchored to you. These have been the worst three weeks of my life; I feel as if I have no one else right now, not my father, certainly not my mum, nor anyone in my father's family. Please, don't be angry."
He turned slowly to face her. Her face was grave and her eyes filled with an intensity and fervor that he had not seen in a long time. The thought that he was her anchor, pressed upon him like a heavy weight upon his chest and filled him with a heartening bliss. She trusted him. She loved him. "I'm not angry, Rose. I don't think I've ever been angry with you. I know you're passionate about things, and that's what I love about you." In an act to give her consolation and solace, he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the backside.
Rose's breath caught in her throat, as a shimmer of desire started to race through her veins at the innocuous gesture. She leaned toward him and placed her free hand on his chest. She stood on her toes and pressed her lips upon his.
The instant her lips touched his, he curved his arms around her waist, brought her body flush against his and she clung to him, her arms around his neck. They kissed long, hard, sweet, and deeply.
Nothing prepared either for the feelings they were feeling. Soon, they were back on the floor of the luggage car, and Rose felt as if she were on fire, because his mouth and hands roamed everywhere, and she yearned for them to continue to touch her everywhere, and beyond everywhere.
She ached. Her breasts felt heavy and painful. A pulse throbbed in her lower stomach. They kissed harder, explored deeper, moved in a rhythm that was foreign, yet right.
He touched her one of her breasts with his hand, and then with his mouth and she cried out. She cried out his name, and cried for more. Her hands went into his long hair and she urged his head closer, trembling under his mouth and hands. She was a virgin, and she figured he was not, but she didn't care, because it didn't matter. At that moment, she was taut, he was hard, and she needed something that only he could provide.
Scorpius murmured her name, repeatedly. He couldn't believe this was real. He had wanted her for so long, had loved her almost as long. Every girl before her was a pale imitation, and every woman afterward, (if there would be any afterwards) would be a mocking reminder of the only woman he would ever love. This woman.
He was aroused beyond what he thought he could bear, and he knew it was her first time, so, he went slowly, gently, offering everything to her, so as not to scare her, or make her regret a single moment of their time together.
At their joining, she jerked and cried out, and he smoothed back her hair, stopped, and asked, "Am I hurting you?"
"Please, don't stop," she urged.
And so he didn't. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. It was primal, intimate, instinctual, to feel skin upon skin, heat upon heat. There were words of love that passed between them, but in the end, they said nary a word as they held each other, and finally, they dressed right before the train stopped at the station.
Embarking at the station, Rose blushed as he held her hand. She smiled at him. He smiled back.
She didn't know what to say. They hadn't said a word since they had dressed and the train had stopped. At last, she asked, "Shall we Apparate to Grimmauld Place? I know the wards will permit me to enter."
Scorpius nodded and then said, "Yes, let's do that, but the book we need isn't there. A book was given to your mother by Remus Lupin, which belonged to Sirius Black, and that's the book we need. My father took the book we need, with the Hufflepuff incantation, back in time. You've probably seen it before. I know my father would have made certain that they had it in the past with them, because they would have needed it for the magic to work properly. The First Stone's magic has never worked right without the book."
She stared at him, indignant, and huffed, "Why didn't you tell me that in the beginning! It's useless, then! We can't bring them home!"
He grasped her face in his hands and said, "I think we can, Rose Red. We don't need that book, because I know the incantation. I have it memorized. Come on; let's go to Grimmauld Place, where we won't be interrupted."
According to the date, which Hermione had asked Harry to confirm three times, they were due to meet back up with Ron in four days. That meant capture by the snatchers wasn't far behind. Which also meant her torture (and possible death?) at the hands of Bellatrix was only a mere few days away.
It also meant that within a week she would see Draco Malfoy again. She didn't know what she would do if and when she saw him again. She might kill him. She truly might at that.
Harry consoled her while she cried for the last hour and a half, confused as to why she was crying, figuring she was distraught over the same old things – Ron's betrayal, the loneliness, the cold, the fear of the unknown. And while two of those things held true for her recent tears, because Ron had betrayed her once again, and she was once again afraid, these tears were cried for a whole host of new reasons. Reasons she could never tell a seventeen year old Harry Potter who was about to face the worst time of his life.
Oh, but she wanted to tell him everything. She didn't, though. She wanted to say: "I'm thirty-eight years old, married to your worthless best friend, and my third child is due to be delivered any day now. Draco Malfoy, who up until a few hours ago, I thought I loved, is still a heartless bastard, even though he apparently saves my life in a few days using an ancient artifact called The First Stone."
She looked at the heavy amulet as it rested underneath her jumper, next to the other locket, and she suddenly felt as if she needed to put quill to parchment. She needed to sort through everything she had learned about The First Stone.
Harry was outside, holding her wand, standing guard, so she went quickly and quietly to her cot, reached underneath for a sheath of parchment and stumbled back to the table.
She wrote on the top of the page - The First Stone.
Hermione thought for a moment. She recalled that Ravenclaw made The First Stone for Hufflepuff. She gave it to Hufflepuff and told her that she could use the stone to undo any one thing in her life, but that it could only be used once. Hermione wrote down:
Everyone can use it only once in his or her lifetime.
Slytherin put the first counter-curse upon it:
Once the magic of the stone is set, it can't be changed, however, the possessor of the stone can either fix something in their own life, as intended, or undo something instead. They could use the stone to right a wrong; to change something that someone else did with the stone.
In fact, the box that housed the book that Lupin had given her had writing on it that said something to that affect.
If the possessor discovers that the way is not straight, but crooked and fraught with wrong, it shall be made right by the possessor, who then forfeits his chance for selflessness. This may be done once and only once.
As soon as Hermione wrote this, she realized something. Draco made her believe in the beginning that it was HER idea to go back, when it was really his all along! He acted as if he didn't even know about the black book that belonged to Sirius Black, but of course, he knew about it! She thought they were going back in time to see the path of the stone, when his intention was to go back and keep her there!
Something Tom Riddle told her was the next thing she wrote.
For the power of The First Stone to work, it must be given freely.
Well, Draco certainly gave her the amulet freely, so it was now hers to do with it as she would. Next, she wrote down The Power of Three and underlined it, for emphasis.
Gryffindor's curse (a counter curse to Slytherin's curse) – The Power of Three – See the path the stone made as far back as the last three uses – Part 1.
Part II - a single person couldn't change something from the past. They would have to change it with two others; two others who were also previous possessors of the stone, and only then, could all three go back and change something. This would keep one person from acting alone.
Part III - ?
Draco never did reveal to her what the third 'power' was, so she left that part blank. She also realized something else. She was the last possessor of the stone, not in the sense that it was now around her neck, but in the sense that Draco had given it to her that day, over three weeks ago, in her living room. She wondered if the third thing was what she assumed it was…did it mean that she could still undo the one thing that pertained to her, without the aid of others, if she did it unselfishly, or was that already a given variable of the stone.
She realized she had more questions than answers, and was no closer to going home. That didn't mean she was giving up, however, and it didn't mean she was reconciled to reliving the torture that was upcoming, because she wasn't.
Standing from the table, she walked over to flap of the tent, moved it aside as she pocketed the piece of parchment in her hand, and she said, "Harry?"
Looking up at her, he answered, "Yes?"
Squatting beside him, she offered, "Let me take over now. You get some rest, please. I'm not tired in the least."
He brooked no argument but merely handed her wand to her, stood, and went over to his cot, lying on his side. She closed the flap of the tent, huddled under the blankets he left abandoned by the side of the tent's doorway, and reached back in her pocket for the piece of parchment. There had to be something missing. There had to be some piece of magic that she either didn't know about, or had forgotten existed, or Draco had kept hidden from her.
Studying the parchment, she was shocked when she heard, "Granger?"
Hearing her name frightened her more than it should have. She dropped the list and her wand and stood so suddenly that the blankets slipped off her shoulders. Before her stood Draco Malfoy, as he looked when he was seventeen years old.
How did he breach their wards? How had he found them? Why was he here? Was he changing things by being here? Had he been followed? A deluge of questions barged in her brain, but only one passed her lips. "Why, Draco? Why?"