Author's notes: Hi again. Here is the beginning of Part II interwoven with new facts and reminders from scenes in the introduction. For those of you who haven't read the beginning of this story in a while, I hope this chapter is not too shocking. - M.
PART II
30th December 2003
Dear Mr. H.J.P.,
I am fairly certain that you would have never expected a letter from me, and neither have I expected to send you such a desperate owl in my lifetime. Yet it has come down to this, and I have come to accept that a distressed widow would do anything to protect her only child - even the worse of treacheries. I have no qualms for warning you of dangers coming your way if it would mean my son would live. I am well aware though, at the same time, that there is very little reason for you to sympathize with my foolish son who attempted an advance on the woman you are lawfully wed to. Your anger is justified; nevertheless I hope you would hear my plea and - if you would consider it so - my advice.
You must know by now how frantically He is gathering heartstones, and the consequences to their proper owners if the heirlooms were taken from them by force. My son's close friend was captured on Christmas Eve, and he... my son, he recklessly went after him despite my protests. My worst nightmare has come true. He was caught, and, as you know, Death Eaters don't employ the soft interrogation approaches you use in the Ministry. The only reason my son is not dead yet is because his heartstone is out of His reach. I am not asking for your direct assistance - I know the Ministry's opinion of my son - instead I ask you to go into hiding immediately. Don't trust any Ministry officer with your safety. I cannot tell you names, but the number of moles He had planted around you... it is enough to say that nobody could be trusted. Please do not ask how I learned where my son's heartstone is either. I have already said too much. What you should know though is this:
Run. Hide.
I beg you.
Don't let Him find her or the stone. If anything, please do this for her. Your wife's life depends on it too.
- N.M.
xxx
It was cold... it was so damn cold.
Honestly, what is it with Voldemort's fondness of frost and ice?
Harry raised his chin painfully to face his archenemy. That last blow to his face did him good; they might have even broken his jaw. He struggled in vain to free himself from the chains fastened to his four limbs; they only got tighter with his every movement. Puffs of chilled air escape his lips... there was no hope for warmth; every breath was colder than the last. Harry could make out the shifting shadows of the Death Eaters surrounding him, but he could barely see. His glasses were smashed to smithereens somewhere on the carpeted floor during the fight that preceded his current apparent defeat. He glanced around the room that was Hermione and his hideout only until that morning. From scenes he replayed in his mind, Harry knew that there was barely a trace of the cozy furniture they had set up only two months ago.
Two months, and that was all it took for their enemies to find them and grind their hiding place into dust. Narcissa Malfoy's attempt at warning Harry did little good. He did though, with the first sign of trouble, give Hermione an emergency portkey and send her out of sight. He didn't even give Hermione the time to object. Harry laughed at himself bitterly. So much for him promising to be more open to her almost two years ago when he was in his vegetative state. He had hidden so much from her for so long; Harry didn't even know where to start when Hermione finally confronted him head-on for acting like a paranoid maniac. It was hard to convince her that she absolutely had to get out of there without explaining why. Or why they were in hiding, or their lack of communication with the Ministry and even the Weasleys. He wished he had been truthful to her for once, especially now when he knew that his end was near.
Lord Voldemort circled him slowly, watching him like a cruel cat inspecting its injured prey. Harry had fought bravely; but even the most experienced Aurors were no match to so many Death Eaters on their own. Now he was chained to the floor, bloodied and surrounded. The Dark Lord could pounce now, but no- he never did until his victims were broken inside out. Physical injury wasn't enough; he wasn't going to give Harry the pleasure of the final blow just yet.
Harry coughed on his own blood and spat at the feet of the tall ancient wizard standing before him, "You're wasting your time," he said.
The Dark Lord did not stop circling him, nor did he respond, though he raised his eyebrows subtly.
A masked Death Eater in the background sneered instead, "Too eager to die now, Harry Potter?"
The others that were hiding in the shadows joined in and laughed. Harry ignored them. Instead he tried to focus his blurry vision on the Dark Lord. Gritting his teeth, he bravely spoke again, "It's bound to her already. His heartstone is useless to you."
At his audacious words, Voldemort burst with anger and apparent frustration, "LIAR!"
He threw his cloak behind him and revealed his long yew wand, hissing threateningly, "It couldn't possibly bind with her properly. You're married to her!"
"True," Harry responded blankly, "But heartstones are bound by will - not the law," his words were assertive and bitter at the same time, "The stronger the will to protect, the more tightly they bind to the ones they were given to. That's why you want them so much, isn't it?"
Harry was almost smirking. He continued, "The power behind such a spell is immeasurable... What could a few marriage laws do?" His smile was thoroughly bitter now, "She remembers nothing, Voldemort. But she remembers."
She loves him too. She loves him back. The spell is essentially complete.
The Dark Lord hated the way the boy said his name so fearlessly; he refused to be goaded. There was something in Potter's eyes that was just as infuriating as the self-assured look Draco Malfoy had on him, no matter how Voldemort had tortured him for the location of his heartstone.
Young kids these days. So cocky. It drove him insane. Blast them all.
He raised his wand and pointed it at Harry's face.
Even with his poor eyesight, Harry could see what was coming next.
"CRUCIO!"
Harry thought his eardrums would burst. A sharp pain shot up his spine and pierced through his head. He wrestled wildly in his chains and flailed like a mad man, barely hearing his own screams through the intolerable pain. The Dark Lord's laughter sounded forced when he finally lowered his wand. Harry dropped to the bloodied carpet in a heap, his breathing quick and heavy.
Menacing words slithered from the Dark Lord's lips. Disbelief was clear in his voice, "You've allowed another man to have so much power over your woman... Do you have no pride?"
Harry heaved himself up with his forearms and released a painful whisper in reply, "As long as it protects her, I don't care."
"Lies again, Potter," the Dark Lord snapped back in mockery, "You're wrong. You'll see... or maybe you wouldn't," he laughed at Harry's current lack of choice. The other Death Eaters joined in the laughter awkwardly. They weren't as sure that Harry was wrong about Draco Malfoy's heartstone anymore.
"I could get rid of you first, and get to the mudblood later," Voldemort hissed as he pointed his wand at something on the floor and swirled it onto Harry's face. Voldemort had fixed his glasses and Harry could see clearly again. For a moment Harry didn't comprehend, until the ancient wizard flicked his wand at him once more. An invisible force jerked Harry's head upwards so he would look straight into the Dark Lord's red eyes.
"I could get rid of you," the Dark Lord said again, "Or we can wait, and you can watch your wife die slowly at my hands. Wouldn't that be a lovely sight, Potter?"
Harry felt tears escaping his tear ducts as he lay stoic, enabling Voldemort to manipulate his body however way he wished to. Harry had no will to struggle any longer; his body felt limp under its own weight.
The Dark Lord sneered at the visible tears on the young Auror's face, and continued to taunt him like he was taking candy from a child.
"Slowly... painfully... for as long as it takes to burn her pretty tortured face into what little would be left of your memory. And then it will be your turn... And history will finally put you in your place. The-Boy-Who-Lived, HA! People would know you as The-Boy-Who-Almos- "
"EXPELLIARMUS!"
"Who—"
Voldemort reeled around to see which blasphemous prick had shot his wand out of his hand, but there wasn't time to see. Aurors stormed into the tiny hut through the broken door, screaming binding curses and hexes as they came through. The Death Eaters in the room swarmed around in alarm as they fought back, and the Dark Lord had to reorient himself to take charge of the new situation. Harry thought he saw Layla's blonde and red streaks somewhere amidst the confusion. Somebody ran forward to Harry and pulled him upright with a jolt. He raised his head painfully and saw a familiar face. His eyes widened in panic.
"Hermione!"
"Harry, we have to go now- "
She zapped at the chains on his arms. They fell off one by one. Multitudes of curses and hexes flew above them as she unchained his legs too. An Auror stood above them, deflecting spells that were aimed at the Potter couple.
"Hurry!" the Auror shouted.
Harry protested, "Hermione, you shouldn't be here!"
She was furious, "You think I'd leave you just like that?"
"But he's after- "
"Shut up and help me!"
"Avada Kedavera!"
The Auror standing guard above them fell dead at their side. Hermione gasped in horror and looked up to see the Dark Lord himself glaring at them with lunacy flaring in his red pupils. He was mad, he was absolutely mad. He raised his wand at her.
"Why you-"
She didn't give him a chance. Hermione grabbed Harry and grabbed her emergency portkey the moment she broke off the last chain. They disapparated from before the Dark Lord's eyes.
And they ran the moment they landed on solid ground. Adrenaline pumped through them for the first twenty or thirty feet, but it was all Hermione could do to keep Harry standing upright. He soon fell and she fell with him. She tried to help Harry onto his feet, but he was too hurt to take more than a step. She screamed as Death Eaters began to appear and close in on them.
"You think you can run away?" a Death Eater advancing towards them growled hoarsely from under his mask. The others murmured incomprehensible words as they closed in on the couple too. Someone grabbed the first Death Eater who spoke and stopped him from advancing any further. They were angry, frustrated and confused. Hermione raised her wand in defense. Harry took her by the arm and shielded her before she could expose herself more than she should.
"Kill her!"
"No, you might kill Potter by mistake!"
"All the better!"
"No, NO! Not till the Lord is here- "
They were in a wide devastated graveyard. Ten Death Eaters, and then You-Know-Who himself. Harry shifted his weight and tried to stand tall, raising his wand to protect the woman who was holding on to him tightly.
"Hermione," he whispered, wrapping an arm around her defensively.
"No, Harry," she refused to let him protect her in his current wounded state. He had protected her many times in the past; it was her turn now.
"Hermione," he said again, more firmly this time.
She quickly glanced at him, unable to take her eyes away from their imminent danger.
He was smiling. It took her off guard.
His words were barely above a whisper, "I love you."
Her eyes widened. No, don't say that now.
He looked down briefly at the silver ring flashing at her neckline and turned back towards his sworn nemesis.
"Harry- " Hermione protested as he stood between her and Voldemort.
The Dark Lord took something from his robe pocket and it glowed a bright blue as he advanced towards them. Harry's eyes widened in dread; he raised his wand. Voldemort raised his wand too, a green blaze sizzling at the tip of his wand as he pointed it at the couple, "AVADA KEDAVRA!" The stone in the Dark Lord's hand radiated a magnificent blue that blended with the green flare at the tip of his wand. The deadly spell charged at full speed towards Hermione.
Harry stood forward and yelled with all the strength left in him, a scarlet glow blasting from his wand, "EXPELLIARMUS!"
The force of the two spells clashed right in their faces and a blinding green glow shot into the air from Hermione's chest, shielding her and colliding with the forbidden curse from the Dark Lord. The concussion of violent spells exploded in the middle of the circle, and its powerful force pushed everyone off their feet. Something heavy hit Hermione and she fell over with it. People were screaming, and she could hear rapid footsteps and the zipping and zapping of people apparating and disapparating. Hermione thought the heavy object lying over her would crush all the air out of her lungs. The extreme pain in her lower back sent stars flying in her head. She must have jammed herself onto a rock. She couldn't open her eyes. Someone heaved the motionless body off her and grabbed her arm to help her to her feet. It was then that Hermione opened her eyes with the horrifying revelation. Layla was standing above her, mascara-streaked tears rolling down her cheeks. Hermione didn't realize the agonizing scream in her ears was coming from her own lips until Layla squeezed her tight, apologizing over and over again for not making it in time. Hermione wasn't hit by the curse, but Harry was lying on the ground motionless. And he was dead—
Chapter Twenty-six: Ashes of gold
"I did it out of respect for whatever was left of her feelings for him... It was the least I could do." - Harry James Potter (R.I.P. 1980-2004)
Hermione opened her eyes.
She fluttered her eyelashes in the soft sunshine coming through the trees, expelling tears that felt cold against her cheeks. She looked up at the cloudless skies. The weather was too nice for her somber feelings.
It had been two months since Harry passed away, yet it felt like time was slugging along slowly.
"He was the hero of our time..." The priest's words at the service constantly rang in her head.
The Dark Lord was killed that night when he attempted to use a stolen heartstone against them. It was a forceful and immature move. Facing the combined powers of Harry's defensive spell and the strange shielding charm that protected Hermione, the brilliant blue shine rebounded on the Dark Lord and ended his life- or so the Ministry had explained to the public. Hermione looked up from the pensieve that Draco had placed on the balcony for her, and stared out at the expansive forest beyond the Malfoy Manor. The reasons why Voldemort died did not matter to her. Harry was gone. He was gone... and only now had she begun to find answers to the two months she had lost almost two years ago.
She had been visiting Harry's grave again the day before, lost in thoughts and tears of grief for a man that meant so much to her. Night fell and rain began to pour; she barely noticed the dreadful fever she was developing after having been out in the rain for so long... until Draco came up to her.
She had heard his voice, and when she saw him clearly the next morning after she woke up from her fever... the invisible wall between her and her past began to melt away.
And yet she still felt empty inside.
Draco wondered what could be going through her mind now. When Hermione showed signs of remembering what happened between them, he had taken her vial of memories and brought his family pensieve out for her to use. She had lived through their past together through the charmed waters. If only she would say something about what she saw. Anything would be fine.
But Hermione stood in silence, staring at the now empty vial in her hand. The golden swirls of her lost memories were still visible in the pensieve. The memories were so vivid, and yet... she felt disconnected from them. It was as if it were someone else's memories that she was watching. It still made no sense to her. An affair with Draco Malfoy? It sounded wrong.
She knew he was standing somewhere behind her. Hermione could hear the clattering of a metal spoon against fine porcelain. Maybe he was pouring himself tea now after she had declined his offer for some. It was the first time they were in each other's presence in two years, and yet she only remembered him to be the cold boy at Hogwarts almost six years ago. Draco had been up all night tending to her fever, checking her temperature the first thing she came to that morning. How was he so kind to her? He was quiet now- the old Draco Malfoy never held his tongue around 'the mudblood'. But the pensieve suggested the contrary, that he had so much emotion in him and had loved her with all that he had, and that she had loved him back... and loved him deeply.
Of course an affair with him made no sense. What they had - what she saw in the pensive of them - barely seemed like an affair to her. It was something more innocent, something so strong yet so vulnerable. The shielding charm that protected her on the night of Harry's death made sense now. Last autumn in Paris, she had figured out that she had Draco's heartstone, but she never thought it had the power to protect her without binding to her rightfully. It couldn't have- she was married to Harry. Until just an hour or so ago, she wasn't even sure that she had really known Draco after Hogwarts.
Hermione now knew why Harry looked at her with such sad eyes when he was obviously lying to her. He had known all this time, and he had lied to carry on their life together. He had lied so she wouldn't remember. And she too had pretended she didn't mind him hiding things from her, because somewhere deep down she knew. She knew why he was lying to her.
It was foolish of them. She wished he had told him so. She wished she had the ability to judge better back then. She had voluntarily given up her memories. She had made the decision to be with Harry. He should have known that she was committed to him then.
And yet, she had Draco's heartstone. Hermione couldn't imagine the agitation Harry went through, knowing that she had it all this time. She only realized the truth when he looked down at the ring at her neck that night, right before the Dark Lord struck them. She realized that he knew- he knew that she had a Death Eater's heartstone. Yet instead of turning it in to the Ministry as an Auror should, he had kept it a secret from everyone, even her.
And now he was dead.
Hermione closed her eyes. She tried to visualize in her mind what the pensieve had just shown her a moment ago; she tried to recall Draco as the loving man it had shown him to be. But her own memories were still fogged over. All that came to her mind - and all too clearly - was Harry's lifeless body in her arms, and the never-ending rain pounding against her. She felt cold inside despite how warm and spring-like it was all around her. It was April, and new greens were emerging everywhere, but she was still stuck in that cold February night when Harry had left-
"Hermione."
Draco's hand on her shoulder brought her back to reality. She turned to him at his voice, and turned away again to hide her tears. Draco saw the lost look in her eyes right before she turned away from him and sighed inside. No, she doesn't remember yet, not all of it anyway.
He spoke gently, taking her empty hand, "I'm sorry if that was too much for you... maybe it was too early for you to see."
Something about his voice suggested an unfaltering personality. It wasn't cold like that of the teenaged Slytherin she remembered; instead he sounded concerned, attentive. His gentle touch sent shivers up her spine and she looked up at him. Draco looked wearier now than he did in the images inside the pensieve. He was very good at hiding his exhaustion - Hermione knew by now that he was a brilliant Occulmens - but his facade did not fool her. He was tired, and he was disappointed. She must have forgotten so much about their relationship... she couldn't associate with his pain. And yet the soft touch of his hand felt so familiar to her.
"You've been wearing this on your neck... all this time?" she asked doubtfully.
He looked down at the vial she was handing to him and smiled an awkward smile, like he was embarrassed that he had indeed been holding on to her memories all this time. He took the empty bottle from her hand and returned the golden swirls into it with his wand. It was a sign that her memories had not completely returned to her that the swirls were still physically there.
Hermione watched the strange expression on his face and felt her stomach flutter in a way that she couldn't explain. As far as she could remember, he had never been embarrassed around her. His smile was shy, almost bashful... and sad. She turned away self-consciously.
"...Thank you," she spoke under her breath.
He looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of her sad smile as she turned away.
She was confused by the memories he had just shown her, he could tell. Even now, as they stood so close to each other - when she could clearly see Draco and hear him - it wasn't enough to completely overcome the spell he had cast on her almost two years ago. He wouldn't be surprised either if she were subconsciously suppressing her memories out of grief. Draco tried his best to hide his disappointment. He had come a long way to find her; this was hardly the happy ending he had imagined.
Hermione glanced at Draco and noticed he was watching her with such an unfamiliar affection- Had he always looked at her like that? Not at Hogwarts.
And had she reciprocated?
She felt herself blush at that thought, and lowered her gaze. From his rolled up sleeves, she saw the tattooed snake slithering up his forearm, hovering around a cursed skull still so frightening.
Draco noticed how her face paled significantly. He looked down at his Dark Mark and knew the reasons for her stare. He unrolled his sleeve uncomfortably, bringing Hermione back to her senses.
"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to stare." She was embarrassed, but her cheeks were still pale, almost bluish. His Dark Mark had reminded her all too vividly of Draco's former alliance.
"It's alright."
She looked up at him, trying to decipher from his expressions the meanings to his response.
He smiled at her sadly, "I can't change the past even if I wanted to... I'm sorry that it makes you uncomfortable."
She didn't mean to hurt his feelings. Hermione quickly expressed regret, "It's not that, Draco."
His name came out so naturally; Hermione had to stop for a moment, assessing whether this was her normal interaction with him. But she couldn't judge what was 'normal' anymore. She didn't remember everything about him, and now she couldn't help but associate him with a deeply painful moment in her life. The despairing moment when Harry lay in her arms, unresponsive to her pleas for him to come back to her; the moment she had to accept that he was truly gone; and the last thing she remembered of him - crying out the disarmament spell, and his simple but sincere "I love you."
It just all hurt too much.
"It's not... about you. It's just that—" she tried to explain, but flashes of red and green came back to her mind, obstructing her train of thought. The Dark Lord's icy voice, yelling the unforgivable curse.
"It just... reminds me of that night..." she finally managed to say.
Even though he knew she would have reacted the same way to any Death Eater's Dark Mark, Draco still felt dejected. As if it wasn't bad enough already that she couldn't remember him, he found it hard to digest that the Hermione now found him frightful, and possibly even repulsive. He remembered the horror in her eyes when she first discovered that he had joined the Dark Lord's side. But she had accepted him when they met again years later. He remembered her fear when he walked pass her in his Death Eater robes in Paris, the way she froze at the sight of him. But she hadn't known it was him back then. And now, now when she had finally recovered some of her memories of him... the Dark Mark only served as a reminder of the man that essentially killed her husband and her best friend.
Draco stared at the woman he loved so much. Maybe Narcissa was right; she had warned him against returning to the British Isles when they escaped back to France as fugitives at the end of the war. There were a multitude of reasons to stay away, but Hermione was one of them. Narcissa didn't approve of his urges to see her.
"She's widowed because of the Dark Lord, for Merlin's sake, Draco, you-were-his-servant! You'll just open more wounds, love. Don't go... now is not the time."
But he came; and now he couldn't help but think that his mother may had been right. He was just adding to her confusion and her pain. Taking her hand again, he guided her to a seat on the veranda bench and sat down with her.
"I'm... really sorry for your lost, Hermione," he was remorseful, "Potter was a brave guy."
Tears welled up in her eyes. It might be the first time Draco had made a compliment of Harry, and he had, for once, called Harry properly by his name instead of some crude nickname. There was no sarcasm there. There was no menace.
"I thought you disliked him," she chuckled, trying to sound lighthearted, "I remember that much."
He smiled at her words, knowing then that she was making an effort to remember him. Dislike was too soft a word for what Harry and Draco had felt for each other. But Draco realized too that her statement was no longer true.
"Actually, I don't... not any more."
Hermione didn't look like she believed him. Draco grinned at her bitterly, confirming her disbelief, "I did hate him, Hermione. It was childish rivalry, I know. And it only got worse when I fell in love with you."
She tried to turn away at his bold words, but he didn't let her. Despite the constant rejection, Draco couldn't just give up now. He turned her face back to him with a gentle tug on her chin. She was all flushed up as she turned back to him, though her eyes were still wandering to anywhere but his face. Draco didn't relent, "He gave up his life for you and protected you from the one man that I failed to stand up against all my life. I couldn't hate him for that. In fact... I might even hate him more now, making the ultimate sacrifice for yo- "
She burst into tears and flung his hand away from hers.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt—"
"Don't EVER, EVER say such a thing again!"
He reached out to comfort her, apologizing for being insensitive, but she removed his hand from her shoulder.
"I didn't want him to sacrifice for me. I don't want YOU to sacrifice for me either! I just wanted him alive... alive that is all! But he's gone. He's gone, forever! So don't you even DARE talk about being jealous he sacrificed his life for me! I don't want you- "
Her eyes widened as she realized he had pressed his lips against hers. The irrational anger and frustration she felt towards him quickly changed into bewilderment. The firm pressure of his lips nearly melted her. It was the most intimate thing that anyone had done to her in a while. Her mind went blank in panic. Hermione fought with all her will power to push him away.
"Draco—"
"No matter what you say," he whispered as he moved away from her, his firm grasp still on her arms, "Or don't want me to say... I can sacrifice anything to make you happy, even us."
He stared straight into her eyes, virtually declaring his love to her. It terrified her how there was not a doubt in his voice.
"Maybe you don't know that now because you can't remember. But it's true."
She was speechless; the impression of his lips on hers was still strong and lingering. Every tender gesture he made was so foreign to her, and yet the way he was staring into her eyes, into her soul... it was so strangely familiar. He was so unyielding. He was so sure. She felt suffocated by the intense emotions within her that were about to spill out uncontrollably. Suddenly she wanted him to kiss her again, to hold her and to not let her go. But her mind told her that it was wrong, that she needed to get herself together and figure it out on her own.
I'm just incredibly lonely right now. It's not about him. It can't be.
Hermione stood up from her seat, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry..." she said softly, barely able to look at him in the eye. Turning away, she went indoors to be alone.
Draco leaned back into his seat and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. She was more broken than he had imagined, and he was at a lost.
Author's notes: I hope I did justice to Harry... he's really grown on me, and despite his flaws and general inability to express himself, he truly loved Hermione. This chapter was so emotionally draining to write. And you all know how I feel about Draco and Hermione (sigh).
Please review.
I love all your engaging comments! -M.