Author's Note - Updated March 3rd 2012.
Here are some clarifications on what happened in the last chapter, my dears. The bond (insofar as I've hashed out the specifics, anyway) is a mental link that is supposed to bring about harmony. Think of it as an almost sentient rope that ties you together but gives you slack (more room) or tightens itself (less room) as it tries hard to force its two people into harmony. A pheromone mix-up is really a tightening of the rope that forces you to physically…acknowledge each other. It works differently for every individual and every couple – for this story, the two of them sense the bond as a 'place' in their heads that 'is not them'.
This is also why not every couple will ever experience a pheromone mix-up. Mostly, I imagined it to be something that happened between couples who are attracted to each other but not entirely aligned yet. Or couples with volatile personalities and relationships that still don't think of the other person as their beloved. It never happens for couples like Dean and Luna because attraction was never the question they began with. Friendship colored their entire relationship differently than non-friend couples like Draco and Hermione, or Neville and Cho. Even though the Duna story is more dramatic than Dramione, it's a different (deeper) drama.
I do apologize for the mix up.
Enjoy!
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Twenty-First Cycle
Lightheaded
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
In between reporting George and Katie's very strange poisoning to the restaurant owners and keeping the two former lovebirds from killing each other, I hadn't had time to do much more than surprise Draco with a peck on the cheek before running out of Enchanted Eats with the Weasleys. The next day was spent in utter confusion (I was spending my time at the Burrow since Luna was too busy to put me up) as Mr. Weasley dragged a very worried but aggressive George to St. Mungo's while I did basic research.
First and foremost was to find out what had been in that bottle.
Forget the fact that the place had a lawsuit on their hands if they didn't produce the offender, I hadn't been able to do much more than secure the offending bottle with the distinctive label. It took Fred and Ron combined (in a magnificent display of Weasley temper that blistered ears and had two waitresses burst into tears) to get the staff to give me the bottle.
Mr. Weasley had taken it with him to St. Mungo's after I'd swabbed a bit of the remnants and stored it properly at the Burrow.
The second thing I had to do was find an apartment.
I nearly rolled my eyes after this particular thought but instead opted to move closer to Ginny who was sprawled out underneath the blankets on the bed. I didn't want another argument with Draco – even though we were both right and wrong – but I wasn't moving into the Manor and that was final. I was just happy that he'd finally seen it my way. He was a challenge that I wanted to take up and an enigma that I wanted to puzzle out. He was sometimes as merry as a child yet I was waiting to see a darker side of him that I was almost sure existed. I barely remembered him arriving but the shattered body of my attacker was proof Malfoy wasn't all rainbows and sunshine.
The final thing was to keep studying. All my poor textbooks were sitting in boxes in the Manor. I had less than a week to complete my preliminary Healer exams and I'd managed to remove one this morning when Mr. Weasley had left the house but Lady Malfoy hadn't been home and Draco had been visiting Zabini and Nott at their office. They were this Saturday afternoon. Dean was studying to be a Healer as well, and although I was sure that he would lend me books if I needed them I wanted to find an apartment before noon and move all of my belongings into it before 6. I hoped that if I kept to some sort of time table, I would be able to sort things out. And I would keep to the timetable on the condition that nothing else happened to weigh even me down even more.
I'd be damned if being in the hospital would hold me back an entire year.
Everything was crashing down upon me with unrelenting force. I wouldn't be able to deal with too much more and I was hoping that the world wasn't thinking of slinging anything more at me.
Time to get up.
oo
A shower, some lotion, a cup of coffee and some toast later I was ready to accomplish the first thing on my to-do list. But I had to do something before that – call my parents.
"Mum?" I asked when the ringing on the line stopped.
"Hermione!" The woman on the other end of the phone was one of my strongest lifelines and if there was a problem to be solved, she helped me think critically about it from every angle. My spirits lifted automatically at hearing her voice. "You-"
"How's Dad?" I interrupted, trying to head off the anger I would be hearing any minute.
"Dad is fine," I could almost hear the frown on the other end of the line. "Right now, he's sleeping and he'll most likely be up any second. But more importantly, how are you?"
"I'm fine," I said brightly.
"Fine? Fine? I don't understand why these things keep happening to you!" Finally, her anxiety pierced through the calm shell. "You're finally out of the War and then things keep happening!
She sounded an awful bit like Draco.
"It's simply a series of unfortunate events, Mum." I said it in the most soothing voice that I could muster. "Really, the odds are so small, you know, that he would just happen to be at the same park that we-"
"And yet – even with those small odds," she mimicked, "he was."
Silence ruled.
"I'm sorry," I said meekly.
"Don't you dare apologize for something you didn't do, sweetheart," she sighed. "Of course I'm not angry with you. I'm only angry with the situation. Will he be tried and imprisoned? Harry said he wasn't mentally stable… what do they do with people like that? I only thank God that the kids showed up when they did."
Mum's voice dropped down into an angry mutter for a few minutes, and I let her run on for a wee bit.
"And your fiancée, that Draco Malfoy, actually contacted us after we left the hospital. Harry also told us that he'd broken twenty-three bones and shattered the man's face so I was quite satisfied."
I gasped.
"Mum!"
"What?" I could just picture my mum shrugging off my exclamation in her house. "Draco Malfoy gets my band of approval."
"Honestly?" I asked in disbelief. "Because after that incident, he sold my apartment and moved all of my belongings into his mansion without consulting me!"
"Did he?" my mum asked with a laugh in her voice. "I don't suppose you let that go over too quietly?"
"It's extremely irritating to have your home sold out from underneath you. You have no idea how angry I was!"
I huffed.
She laughed.
"I know how far away we are but you know-"
"-I know. I can't move back but I will drop by today."
"And I must point out that the young Malfoy was only at fault because he was trying to protect you."
"I know, I know that." I would be a fool if I didn't realize what was driving Draco to do things like that, especially as he had shown me a fraction of what he had felt upon discovering that I was gone. "And I'm certainly not angry anymore. But I am determined to live on my own until we…we-uh…we get married."
I choked all over the 'm' word.
"I can understand that too." I heard my mum sigh. "Remain independent, darling. I just want you to take care of yourself. Wait a minute, I hear the creak of the steps…" Her voice moved away from the phone. "Hermione's on the phone!" she yelled and I heard shuffling before the crackling of the second phone being lifted.
"Darling?"
"Daddy!"
"Bookie, how are you?" A special nickname relating to the sheer strength of my desire to read at the age of three announced the arrival of my dad on the phone. "Are you hurt anywhere? Did they heal everything properly?"
I laughed.
"I'm fine, no and yes."
"Now that I have gotten those answers I can keep your mum sane. Otherwise, she'd be worrying all the time."
"I think I've just soothed some of her fears."
"What's going to happen with the exams? Are you coming home?"
"Don't worry," I said reassuringly, "I threw my weight around a little bit to get myself a new preliminary test date in a week. And, today I plan on finding an apartment and getting everything moved out. I'll come out in about an hour."
"Hmph." Daddy grunted. "We'll be waiting. And bring the boy later this week for dinner since your mother approves, you hear?"
Bring Draco? I thought
"You want me to bring-"
"Your mum says so. We'll be waiting."
"But- but-"
"Bye, sweetheart."
And there went that call.
"'Mione?" Ginny's sleepy voice came from somewhere in the vicinity of the bed. "Leaving?"
I crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed. I still couldn't see her, even with my close proximity.
"See Mum and Dad."
She made a snuffling sound then yawned.
"There's a sheet I want you to give Malfoy."
Her hand shot out, waved around in the air, then retreated. I tried not to laugh as I asked here where the sheet was.
"Floor somewhere," she muttered before yawning again. When the breathing under the sheets became even again, I knew I'd lost her.
"Floor somewhere it is," I muttered as I set about to find this thing.
Wading through piles of clothes and a few towels, I finally found an obnoxiously bright orange piece of parchment with Malfoy's name stamped across the top. There were Quidditch players all over but as soon as I touched it, the players in vibrant yellow, silver and green came to life. They zoomed over and under each other and the balls with generous sound effects. In blaring black font that begun to read itself out loud, it announced a Quidditch tryout for a couple of teams. Draco had mentioned Quidditch being his favorite past time and I smiled before hurriedly folding the piece of paper and cutting off the audio.
Although Ginny never woke up before 11, I wasn't the only one up.
Ron was shuffling around the kitchen when I got down there. We had breakfast together, which was really really nice since I'd felt as if I had barely seen Ron in the last three weeks. When we moved to the cozy red-themed living room, where Ron sat next to me on some cushions on the floor, I lifted the glassware I'd stored the remnants of the tampered alcohol in and kept it floating in front of us.
"I'm the guinea pig?"
I shook my head.
"Lab assistant. First thing we need to do is transfer the drop in the Wizlock bag you brought."
"Nifty things, ain't they?" He grinned. "Stroke of luck Mum had one leftover from something Dad did ages ago."
They really were and I'd kissed Ron when he'd seemed to run into the Burrow last night (making all sorts of noise) and produced one after an hour. The Wizlock bag was something of chemical break-down kit. Drop something complex in and it would spit out replicas of all the basic ingredients within minutes. A complete ingredients list was all I needed to start my research into George and Katie's new state of affairs.
"You lift, I'll hold it."
He closed his eyes and focused with his wand, solidifying everything into a single drop and lifting it from the glassware.
"Good," I said in an approving voice as a single small drop disappeared into the Wizlock.
He opened his eyes and we watched as it seemed to slowly swell outwards in the air before us, then turn a deep dark blue color.
"That doesn't look good," he commented mildly.
It sure didn't.
It also looked like the once-clear container was filling with hazy blue smoke, while flashes of purple and green went off from what sounded a long way away. From what I'd read, any range of sounds could be made by the Wizlock bag as it would take a little over ten minutes to do a full breakdown and workup of ingredients.
I was determined to drill Ron while we waited so I dragged him closer to the couch and stared him down.
"While we're waiting how about you fill me in on life with Padma?"
Ron seemed to stare down his lap for an eternity before he looked at me with clear blue eyes.
"I dunno, honestly."
"Honestly?" I asked curiously. "Because it really does look like it's going swell."
"It is," he said with a smile. "And it's a bit scary, you know, because I can't figure out why I like to be around her for so much of the day. She's too clever for her own good and she's got a smart mouth but I can handle her."
I snorted and Ron elbowed me in the side.
"You know what I mean." He rolled his eyes. "She's just too…important now. That's why it's scary. Sometimes, I look at things and I think "Padma wouldn't like that" or "Padma would think that was nice" or "Padma would use that for her next fashion layout". Two weeks ago, I didn't have any of this extra stuff going on in my head."
He was still that clueless redhead that I used to get angry with all the time in Fifth and Sixth Year – sort of. Ron had come a long way from possession the emotional capacity of a teaspoon and I was too proud to interrupt his confession.
"She's great. She really is. It's just her family that I need to win over." He grimaced and I hid a grin – Ginny'd told me all about the fact that they still wanted to set up a marriage with anyone besides Ron. "They had already set up a meeting with a fitting suitor when the Ministry & arranged marriage came into the picture. They didn't like me when they first met me, and to be honest, I think they still don't."
He shrugged his shoulders after a particularly violent rumbling from the crackling Wizlock bag.
"Well, maybe. The whole lot of them are fierce."
"Fierce, you say?"
"But I'll grow on them, you'll see. The other day her mother slipped up and accidentally called me son in Punjabi."
I was confused as I puzzled out what he was saying.
"Ah, Punjabi's her language…I'm honestly happy for you," I said and grinned. "It's rare to see you so emotionally engaged."
He grimaced and I teased.
"It's in the air. Everywhere you look, there's romance and displays of affection. Don't worry, I talked to her last night and it seems mutual."
"I hope so," he murmured before sighing. "We get on well but…sometimes I get this feeling…"
"What?"
His eyes went unfocused for a second, as if his train of thought required more than the usual focus.
"I feel like there's something she's hiding." My brow furrowed and I watched as Ron tipped his head back against the couch's cushions to look up at the ceiling. The hand holding mine was lax. "And I'm not sure what it is. I don't know I'm just naturally suspicious, or if it's something she's doing or whatever…but I feel like something's a little off."
I absorbed that for a minute.
"She probably is hiding something then," I said thoughtfully as I leaned my back head so we were both staring up at the ceiling and holding hands.
"I knew it-"
""But it might be something that she's hiding from others too. I'm sure there's a reason for it, Ron."
"Of course there's a reason," he scoffed. "What worries me is whether it's a good or bad reason."
The Wizlock bag suddenly deflated with a soft shufft. The kit had done its job and was now a transparent plastic bag again, bobbing gently in the air. We disengaged and sat up.
"Shall we check it out?" he asked. I nodded.
We looked down at the carpet directly below the bag and found a very curious array of materials indeed. Most of the items were identifiable. For instance, we immediately noticed a stewed rat claw, rotting cabbage and dry ice, some sort of worm, a smelly sock and what looked like black pixy wings. And that was stuff that was relatively…normal.
But between the sock and the wings was something else altogether – a tiny beating green heart.
"What is it?" Ron muttered as he leaned down to sniff the heart.
Honestly, he'd never absorbed anything in Potions.
It didn't react to his proximity at all. It just kept beating at a fast pace, or I assumed that was beating because it was making the most disturbing noises. At one point, the beat sounded like the growl of werewolf and at another it sounded like the snores of a baby. That'sodd. It was the same bright green of budding plants in early spring with a waxy tint; a green that looked fairly poisonous on such a creepy object. The veins that crisscrossed the pulsing muscle were cream.
"I have never seen anything like it before," muttered Ron. "Have you?"
"Can't say that I have although it's small enough to be either a baby mammal or something else altogether…" I jumped to my feet and looked down at Ron. "Ron, can you take care of things here? I'm running off to Hogwarts to have a look at some books in the library. Then I'm going to enlist Draco's help for an apartment. I'll be back soon." I looked down at the black watch on my wrist.
"Give me two hours…say, by eleven?" He nodded.
"Aye aye Captain," Ron said with a grin. I was out the door in the speed of light.
oo
"Negligus…nehlips…neihimians…newtons?" I was poring through my textbooks, despite the fact that St. Mungoes would probably dissect the contents faster than I could. The faster I figured out what it was, the faster we could figure out motive. No investigation was going to be launched with manpower spread so thin in the Ministry. I hummed as I nibbled the edge of my quill. "That's not it."
I sent the book hurtling through the air to my desk.
"A heart that is still beating…"
A heart that was still beating. I never doubted that magic might continue to surprise me until the day that I died but who had ever heard of a still-thumping heart? I reached for another book, one about potions and scribbled feverishly as I continued to flip the pages. But in a typical hate potion?
It had to be something stronger than the usual. It hadn't worn off, had colored past memories unfavorably, and used unorthodox ingredients.
I pulled a different textbook out of the stack of many and flipped the old parchment to the back so that I could look at the index. A finger ran down the page over fading black ink in alphabetical order and stopped exactly where I wanted it to. Hate potions. "Alright," I murmured to myself. "Let's see what the following 24 potions have to say."
Carefully, I began to read. Above the first potion was a picture of a man and woman dressed in medieval clothing stood next to each other, although the man was turning away from the woman. That screamed mild dislike, not furious hate. The second and third were much the same, and neither of their ingredients said anything about any sort of heart, beating or otherwise. The fourth looked promising until I read that it wasn't very potent – the effects lasted a mere half an hour before disappearing. The fifth potion was useless and many after that. After flipping pages for fifteen minutes, I finally happened upon the answer - Quiddleby's Powerful Odium Potion.
The picture above it showed a woman, continuously morphing from beauty to beast. Her green-eyes would change into an inky black that expanded out of the eye and covered all white, and butt-length bright crimson colored hair shrunk to her shoulders and turned the color of dark red wine. A small box at the top left side of the page had the same bloody broken beating heart.
Quiddleby's Powerful Odium Potion was created by one Malcolm Quiddleby circa 1543. He had married an intelligent and beautiful witch for love only weeks after meeting her, immediately falling for her physical charms. Upon marrying said witch, he discovered her darker side and a few undesirable qualities. She had a knack for correcting his mistakes, brushing her teeth at odd hours of the night, a habit of burning anything and everything that contained the color red, a need to use new towels every time she showered and a predilection for leaving the house in the wee hours of morning to meet other men. When asked why he would create such a potion, Quiddleby said that it was for those who wished to someone as they really are – with heavy emphasis placed on their bad traits. The potion was later categorized as a hate potion because the ridiculously heavy emphasis on bad traits led those who drank the potion to hate the other irreconcilably. The only problem that this potion poses is that the effects last for an undetermined amount of time and various factors affecting the time include the potency and the drinker's own feelings.
Oddly enough, this potion is like wine. With age its potency grows. Hatred is a subjective feeling and Quiddleby's Odium Potion does not create hatred. It is merely an eye-opener, with an eye turned to all bad characteristics. Therefore, it isn't a true hate potion because the drinker chooses to cultivate the hatred him/herself.
As of now, no one has created an antidote.
Ingredients needed: (1) a smelly sock (2)two stewed feng-shui dung rat claws (3) eight black pixie wings (4) one live smolderworm (5) a head of rotten cabbage (6) two pounds of spoiled baklava (7) two gallons of proxy poison that has been strained and boiled for three days and two nights (8) a diced red magical scorpion (9) a kilogram of Shingle's EverDry dry ice
(10) two putrid flavored Maggie Cubes (12) one small green beating glow bat heart
"Well," I muttered and leaned back in the straight backed to think. I stole another glance at the moving picture and then at the broken beaten heart insignia. "This could certainly be it."
-oooOooOoOOoOooOooo-
I didn't understand why my mother insisted on sending in a house elf to wake me when she breakfasted early. I barely restrained myself from throwing something at the creature but Cranky was incorrigible. How my father managed to raise three or four independent elves in such a sober home was oft beyond me.
"Is my mother awake?"
The only obvious answer was yes but I waited for him regardless.
"Eating breakfast already."
Good God, I only wanted to sleep.
"Alright," I said with a yawn. "Tell her that I'll be down in a bit."
I lay back in my bed and stared at the ceiling for a little bit. It was already 8:45 and I usually wake up earlier. I yawned again and stretched my hands above my head and spread my legs. My hair was spread out around my head on the pillow and I wrinkled my forehead. Merlin. I wanted to sleep in for some more but it had been ages since I had talked to my Mum and I wanted to catch her before she went off to make sure that the various Malfoy businesses were still running like clockwork.
I threw the sheets off of my body and slowly worked my legs over the sides of my king-sized bed. I yawned and tried to inject more energy into my movements. I bypassed taking a shower entirely and settled for washing my face. It was quite the fancy bathroom – done all on stunning black marble. Everywhere one turned, one would meet the sleek shine that accompanied the polish of the black surfaces. It was sleek, smooth, classy and just to my tastes. Feeling a wee bit better, I set about getting ready.
Time to clean up.
oo
"Mum, we have to rectify this situation."
"What situation?"
"That fact that I haven't seen you in days and we live on the same estate!"
We were seated in that special dining room that my father had built in order to ensure family time. There were times when I found myself unconsciously expecting the stern presence of my Dad and there were times when I found myself missing him. A brief pang hit me then before it was interrupted by the light laughter of Mum.
"And whose fault is that?" She pulled her snow white robe closer to her body before reaching for her glass of pumpkin juice. "Weren't you the one who complained about waking up for breakfast?"
"I don't see that it has stopped you," I said nicely.
She stared me down and shook her head.
"Then how are you and Miss Hermione faring these days?"
"A lot better, I think." I bit into my buttered muffin hungrily and chewed completely before continuing. "She had the gall to ask me to apologize for moving her things here."
Mum's eyebrows rose.
"The gall," she said dryly. "I trust she put you in your place quite nicely."
I kept forgetting that I was surrounded by women who couldn't find it in their hearts to agree with my need to protect them. When Mother shook her head and continued to sip her juice, I rolled my eyes.
Honestly, what is it that I like about Hermione Granger?
Besides the fact that she'd been forced on me by a belligerent government.
The truth was that there were a lot of things that appealed to me about her. Firstly, she's brilliant – both smart and witty. I don't think that I would have wanted anyone who was of a lower intellect than I am. And truth be told, I do believe that she may be smarter than me. But keep in mind that that is an awfully bigmay. Secondly, she's loyal. I've certainly watched her behavior among friends. She's aware of their flaws but it doesn't keep her from wanting to protect them. Thirdly, she's a challenge. Hermione Granger will not be easy to woo and I definitely welcome a challenge. I like being challenged and I like to win…so I know that I'm going to get her to fall in love with me before and I'm unflinchingly sure that I've already begun to fall in love with her. And fourthly (for now), I find her attractive. She's petite at 5'6, which makes me want to protect her, and only a little curvy. She's rather tanned which is a contrast to my pale skin that I'm beginning to love, and her hair is as curly as mine is straight.
Actually, I thought to myself happily as I finished my muffin with pumpkin juice, I rather like everything that makes us opposite. I can't fathom why but does it really matter?
I frowned.
I was beginning to sound like a sentimental Hufflepuff, even in the confines of my own mind.
"Draco."
"Pardon me, Mother," I said with a start. "What did you say?"
"What on earth has you so absent?"
I smiled.
"Mother, would you do me the great honor of letting me take you to dinner tomorrow evening?"
She looked delighted.
"That certainly looks like a 'yes'."
"Don't attempt to distract me," she said happily, "though you can. When will she come by today?"
"Sometime this afternoon, I believe. Once she lets me know what she wants I'm heading off to Blaise's."
"I need to speak with her about something so do let me know when she stops in." Before I could ask what she needed to discuss with Hermione, Mother patted my shoulder and swept out of the room.
-oooOooOoOOoOooOooo-
I had finally found the potion but it didn't seem to clear up the issue of George's minimal loss of memory. Katie hadn't suffered the same loss of memory, and so there was reason to believe that George's memory loss was caused by a different factor. As far as I knew, potions didn't seem to have spoilage side-effects…they simply stopped working past a certain time. But it could be that witches and wizards make the assumption that a spell or a mixture has been working since the dawn of time and don't pick up on small side-effects? I should have questioned George today – and Katie.
Damn, I was making no headway into this mystery.
"Right," I muttered to myself as I began to pack my bags.
I picked up my quill to finish adding notes to my piece of parchment. When I was done, I methodically folded the parchment and put it in a folder in my bag. The books rose and floated off on their merry way so I checked my bag to ascertain that the flyer that Ginny had to given me was still there. It was and so I set off.
Now, to find Draco Malfoy.
The grounds were immense and I'd gotten used to coming into his home through the most expedient route – attached to his arm by Apparition. Why on earth I was attempting it now from the very edges of the property, I hadn't the faintest. I did always like a challenge! Extensive study had told me that there were seven gates on the Malfoy property, sought of like seven rings. I'd already bypassed the first heavy black gate, walking as quickly along the main path as the landscape allowed, so that I could go through the gardens.
Narcissa Malfoy had explained that the gardens served as both a beautiful forefront to the home and protection - the immaculately trimmed lawns were as soaked in light and dark magic, thanks to generations of powerful and paranoid Malfoys. The booklore she'd let me borrow from the library confirmed this. The sculptures of the gardens between the fourth and third gate had the ability to come to life, and the books told me they often did to patrol the grounds or greet the owners-
- which didn't explain why I nearly jumped out of my skin the minute I stepped through the third gate.
As far as I could see, the structures of both stone and bushy were moving about business known only to them. But hadn't the books mentioned set patrolling times? Why were they so…well…busy at this time of the morning? And good God, what was that larger statue to my right? It looked like some sort of warrior and it looked…alert! I tried to move as cautiously as I could, in case, they viewed me as a threat but didn't get very far before the stone eyes of the warrior fastened on my face.
Oh dear, I thought worriedly, what am I to do?
"Who are you?"
Their voices were much much deeper than the ones that guarded the Headmaster's quarters at Hogwarts. I tried not to wince, and stood bravely.
"Hermione Granger."
Though only a single sculpture was speaking, it felt as if the entire place was whispering my name. I briefly thought about letting panic take me so I could get Draco here but dismissed the idea. I was Hermione Granger and I'd stood down situations much scarier than this.
Deep breath, my girl, I scolded myself.
"Will you let me pass?"
Its impassive face never moved but the sudden whispers stopped. I waited. The deep voice rang out again.
"You have free run of the grounds, my lady."
It was a statement that rang in my ears, not a question.
"I-I do?" I asked dumbly. "I mean, I do?"
"You do. You are future mistress here.
If my eyes had been tea saucers before, they were dinner plates now. Mistress? My lady? What on earth-
"Please proceed, Mistress."
For a moment, I'm sure that my jaw was unhinged and my eyes threatened to bulge out of my head.
"Um, thank you."
It took me another five minutes to recover as I made my way to the last inner gate, on my guard for more surprises. Oddly enough, there seemed to be no magical barriers today and apart from the appearance of a gargoyle over ahead, I was alone.
Imagine that, I marveled again as I followed the wondering path to the apex of the hill, stone groundkeepers!
I'd never turn my nose at the Malfoy grounds again. The Manor was at the bottom of the hill, looking as if it was nestled right where it was supposed to be. I descended the hill, keeping to the central path and noting all the Grecian arches of the house. It was white in its entirety – from the fifteen foot pillars that marked the area above the steps to the large front door to the shutter.
Can I see myself living here?
It was gorgeous and elegant. In my mind, an image was already forming of children playing in the gardens; wandering over the lawns with the sculptures that doubled as guardians. I needed to stop myself before the images in my head got out of life. What was I thinking? I wasn't ready for all of that yet. But as Ron had said, it was only a matter of time until I fell in love with Draco Malfoy – I was sure of it. I climbed the twenty-five steps to the front door as I thought. So back to my original question – could I see myself living here? A slow smile blossomed across my face as I used the immense knocker to bang away on the door.
Yes, I can.
-oooOooOoOOoOooOooo-
"Mistress Hermione Granger is awaiting your arrival downstairs on the third floor in the room that holds all of her possessions." Cranky had delivered this message almost five minutes ago; yet for some unfathomable reason I was still upstairs trying to figure out what Granger wanted. I had known the exact moment that Hermione had entered the house, had been utterly aware of her movements and proximity from that time on. It had occurred to me after breakfast with mum that Granger might have decided that nothing had changed. Knowing the fickle female mind, I was prepared even if I might have been acting irrational. I didn't want to keep her waiting, per say, I just wanted to be armed with something in case she had decided to retract the apology that she had rendered yesterday.
Got it.
I took the steps two at a time in order to make up for precious wasted time. The closer I got to her the more my mind buzzed with apprehension and awareness of her nearness. When I arrived at the living room downstairs on the fifth floor, I stopped and took inventory.
Weapon – check. Clothes – check. Hair – check.
I strolled into the room with my wand held loosely to see Granger stroking the blue vase that I had repaired when I moved her stuff. Her back was to me and it gave me time to gaze at her.
She was dressed as casually as they come, in a dark blue dress that I'd never seen her wear before. When she turned her body toward the window to her left, I saw that she had the same vase that I'd fixed cradled in her arms. She was stroking the piece very tenderly, gazing at it with an affectionate smile.
Figure that. I thought to myself. I am gazing at her gazing at the vase. I seemed to be gazing at her a lot lately. A moment later, Granger turned to see me leaning against the wall.
"Good morning," I said with a wary smile.
I was cautious and on alert for any sight of anger. There was none.
"Why are you holding your wand?"
"I wanted to be armed in case you decided to attack me," I said casually, "not that I would ever aim a spell towards you."
Her face wrinkled into something that looking suspiciously like displeasure.
"And why would I want to do that?" Her eyes narrowed. "Have you done something else that I should know about?"
"N-no! No!"
I lifted my hands in a placating gesture and resisted the urge to back up a couple of steps on the plush dark green carpet.
"You haven't?"
"I haven't! I just thought that you might be reconsidering that apology yesterday."
For a moment, Hermione looked at me as if she were considering something. Then, surprisingly, she grinned and strolled over to me to push my hands out of the way before rising on tiptoes to kiss me on the cheek. Instead of passing out as I wanted to do at the pleasant surprise, I smiled and looked down into her eyes.
"No," she said. Her arms slipped around my torso as she lowered herself out of tiptoe…another surprise in the form of a brief hug but I was certainly not complaining. "I'm not angry and I haven't come to beat you to a pulp."
I was shell-shocked…was Hermione Granger actually hugging me?
"Good," I said warily and slapped a hand over my heart, just to make her laugh. "Because it's been a very long two days."
"Your own fault," she shot back primly. "I'm sure there'll be plenty enough time for that later."
"I've been waiting for ages," I said. "You look different today."
She did.
"Thank you," she said very softly with a slow smile that blossomed in bits and pieces across her face. Even though she moved out of my arms at the same time, I couldn't help but smile back. "Must have been the shock."
I wanted to take advantage of the amazing mood that Hermione Granger seemed to be in because I didn't know when she'd be feeling this good again. My arms slipped around her own waist and one hand found itself at the base of her neck, carelessly kneading the skin there. Instead of blushing, she closed her eyes and leaned into the caress by tipping her head back and letting her heavy sheet of hair cover my hand. For a long minute, she let me knead the back of her neck.
Then her last statement sunk in.
"The shock?" I asked. "What shock? Did you walk all the way here?"
"I could get as far as the fifth gate but then I walked the rest of the way."
My jaw dropped. That meant she'd walked over a mile!
"How long did that take you?"
She shrugged.
"Fifteen minutes going slowly."
"You should have owled me or noted-"
She laughed and shrugged again.
"I wanted to see it for myself again." She was a piece of work, this one. "And it was gorgeous and your Mum told me all about the gargoyles, so I meant to see them for myself. I'm sure you know this but the grounds are just so…"
I watched her mouth form all the words that were tumbling out of her mouth and then wondered if kissing her would stop her from talking. And then wondered how much I could get away with before Mother came down. She stopped and cleared her throat in such a way that I wanted to nuzzle her neck.
"Draco."
"Yes?"
"Did you hear me? He called me 'mistress'."
"Well, yes." I blinked. "Mother has begun the process of writing you into the family history. Speaking of Mother, she said she'd been meaning to speak to you about something. I imagine that's what it's about."
"She has? I mean, I am?"
"Of course," I said loftily, "you're a future Malfoy."
I don't know if she hadn't thought about that before or whether she was simply an open book this afternoon but a host of emotions flitted across her face before she sat down.
"The gardens were lovely. I didn't expect so much-"
"-color?" I finished wryly. "My father would have had a heart attack if he'd seen all that color in front of the house. Renovation and revamping of the Manor was my mother's idea and is her ongoing project."
"She's doing a lovely job."
Hermione smiled charmingly.
I smiled back.
"I'm pleased that you like it and will pass on the compliments. What's going on with that bottle?"
"Ever heard of the Quiddleby Odium Potion?"
Dark magic lore?
"Is that what they've been drugged with?"I asked, aghast. "Merlin's Balls, they're going to be at it for awhile. Even counteracting potions administered by St. Mungoes won't completely erase the hatred."
Her face fell.
"That's what I was going to ask you."
"What else?"
"It could have come from anywhere in England, and it could have spent any amount of time in storage…" She started to pace. "Of course the potency depends on the amount of time they spend with each other but we'll have to devise away for them to be on the same grounds without actually interacting."
She stopped and pinned me with narrowed eyes.
"I need you to a few things for me."
I eyed her warily.
"What do you need?"
"If you could stop by the restaurant today and ask for a follow-up on our mystery bartender, and then use Plunko's to note me as soon as you hear from them. I'm all set to sign the lease on the new apartment after that but I wanted to…uhm…let you look at it first."
I was delighted that she wanted me to see her new place before she signed the lease but I tried not to show it. Instead, I nodded and then raised a hand as if I were still a student in school, waving it excitedly and making a fair imitation of Granger in our Hogwarts days. She arched an eyebrow.
"Yes?"
"I have one demand."
An eyebrow rose.
"More of a request, really," I said hastily. "Request. Don't obtain an apartment within a sixty mile radius of your last one."
"That came out sounded quite similar to a demand, even though I'm going to follow this one," she responded without missing a beat.
"I'm going to drop in on Blaise and find out what's going on with everyone else's lives," I said smoothly, as if she hadn't spoken. "And then I'd like to go to a potions master in Knock Turn Alley to ask after your project."
Her gaze turned thoughtful.
"Knock-Turn Alley? I should have thought of that. In fact, I should have gone there before this."
I frowned.
"Then it's a good thing that you didn't even think about it."
"Why?"
"Because I would never let you go there," I said calmly while folding my arms across my chest, "certainly not after what happened to you last week."
She looked utterly nonplussed.
"And why ever not? I'm sure it's a respectable establishment."
My eyebrows threatened to crawl into my hairline. Are we discussing the same alley?
"We are not talking about the same place because Knock Turn Alley remains the least respectable and most shady area in magical London that I know of." I didn't let her interrupt. "And before you accuse me of overreacting, I want to point out that the thought of your innocent little butt traipsing through the most notorious section of the city makes me want to pass out!"
As if she wasn't going to run into danger by going there.
As if the seediest magical males didn't make that place their humble abode.
As if I was going to let her run off by herself headfirst into danger.
As if.
Her mouth hung open for a moment before she seemed to recover her wits.
"Firstly, I can take care of myself and secondly-"
"No," I very nearly yelled, "clearly, you can't! My hands gestured wildly to underscore my point. I was losing my cool big time. "You can't take care of yourself and I swear that I am going to need smelling salts if you don't stop playing around with your life. If it's not being frightened or getting into a pheromone mix-up, it's going to be something else-"
She kissed me.
She honest-to-goodness kissed me. Her hands came up to cup my face and I suspected that she was on tiptoe in order to reach me. My hands understood before my brain did; I was clutching her to me before I realized that she was actually in my arms. This mental path made it impossible to simply kiss someone – no, it felt like I was submerging myself in her. Her thoughts possessed the same elusive but familiar flavor as last time, the same taste of golden afternoons. The fact that she had started this only enforced the feeling that the kiss was a promise of forever; (and Merlin, how sentimental did that sound!) but I couldn't do anything about it. She pulled away a little and rocked back on her heels with pink staining her cheeks
"What I was going to say before you worked yourself into a fit over nothing was that you're going to Knock Turn Alley."
I blinked and waited for my brain to catch up to her words.
"Not me," she continued, "so you shouldn't be worried. I'm leaving now so that we can go about our business. There's a flyer sitting on the table that Ginny told me to give to you."
"A-" I cleared my throat, "a flyer, you say?"
Thanks to the fact that our minds were still very much linked, I felt her amusement after my stuttering. I winced.
"I gather it's about Quidditch so read it, alright?" she finally said. "I'll send that note and be by later."
Regretfully, I was only capable of a surprised nod.
She smiled and slipped out of my arms, then she took another step back before turning on her heels and leaving the room.
Mentally, I could still feel her presence and instinctively I knew when she apparated off of the Malfoy grounds. I shook my head at the empty room and almost smiled.
If she would stop disappearing on me, maybe I would be able to dispense with this lightheadedness.
The truth was that I didn't really mind being lightheaded over Hermione Granger.