Chapter Twenty-Six

Meeting Truth

Hermione would've believed that it was a cruel dream if her heart hadn't jolted the way it did, if she wasn't still shivering from the cold. If she didn't feel like she was going to die right there on that sidewalk, because it was too good to be true.

The man pulled back his hood revealing only sandy hair, dull brown eyes, and ears too big for his head. She recognized him instantly.

"Nott."

He nodded as if the whole process was boring him. "I'm not catching a bug with you. Come on, Granger. We have to go."

She stood, but made no move to suggest that she was going to follow him. "Explain."

"Still bossy I see. I'll explain along the way." He held out his arm in what would have been a gentleman's gesture, if it wasn't for the sneer he carried. "Take it."

She didn't. "Explain in my shop." She tugged the keys out of her jeans with plenty of difficulty as they were glued to her skin.

"This isn't necessary, Granger. I told him I'd have you back by daylight; you weren't an easy find."

"A bit cocky, eh?"

"I didn't expect it to be this difficult. Guess I should've expected to be hanging around musty old bookstores. No doubt that you'd own one, but in a muggle community?" He inspected her body. "No wand?"

"I have one."

"Let me see it."

She flushed.

"That's what I thought." That statement irritated her. Could everyone read her like the books she carried?

They trailed puddles like breadcrumbs in the store, all the way to the back. She motioned to the very chair Pansy had sat in a week ago, but Nott refused.

"You're in here because Draco trusted you," Hermione said in her strictest tone (what Harry would call her McGonagall impression). "I will trust you too, but I won't go with you without a reason. He's dead, Nott. I was there... I saw him."

"Don't expect you to understand this, but magic is complex. There are many factors involved in performing a simple spell. Intention, words, movements. Let me ask you something, Granger, did you really mean it when you killed my best mate?"

She ceased breathing. He knew... He must have saw, but why would he let her live as long as she had?

He chuckled darkly. "I don't reckon you did. You didn't have a shred of desire to kill him despite all your good reasons. You throw a rubbish curse. The incantation was powerful enough to do a great deal of damage. Zapped all his strength and weakened him. He's walking now, you know. Almost back to new, and I have no choice but to fulfill his request. And that's you."

"This is impossible. He was dead."

"He may have died if it wasn't for that ruddy book in his pocket." Nott smiled. "But don't fret, your book is fine."

"He's dead," Hermione reiterated. "It's impossible."

"Disappointed?"

She glowered, cursing herself once more for not carrying her wand. "This is a sick joke."

"Talk to that friend of yours - the Weasel twin about jokes. I loathe April Fools."

"Then you wouldn't mind if I called Harry to join us."

His smile widened. "Be my guest. I owe a lot to that bloke."

Her mouth set in a concentrated frown. "Your dad was put in jail because the Order came searching for us." She vaguely recalled his attitude shortly after the imprisonment of his father. There was no emotion at all. She thought it a bit odd. Draco and his goons looked ready to murder.

"Here's a bit of fact for you, bookworm: Not every boy wants to be like their father. Not every Slytherin hates muggles. Fortunately for you and Draco, I couldn't have cared less."

"I wasn't suggesting that you have your old ideals."

"You were suggesting that I was like everybody else. I never had those ideals. I acted my part well. I owe a lot to you too, Granger, you changed him, and because of that, I didn't have to hide to my best mate."

Her head reeled. "It's true then? That Draco's..."

He jerked his head in affirmation, and she crumpled. He grabbed her arms quickly, sitting her in the chair. "There's no need to cry," Nott told her.

She hadn't realized that she was crying, but as her fingertips grazed her cheeks she found that it was true. "All this time..." Her voice cracked and she could say no more, which was just as well. Her breath caught in her throat as the point of a knotted wand was at her chest.

Nott muttered a spell - or curse, and she shut her eyes, foolishly half-expecting to see a burst of green light, but there was none. There was a flash, but when she was very much alive, her limbs appearing to be in place, she found that her clothes were dry, as well as her hair. She ran her hands over her face, her tears having dried as well.

"Thank you," she said, stunned.

It couldn't have been real, she must have been asleep, and with any luck, none of it was real. She would wake up soon in her dormitory, and she'd laugh at it all with Harry and Ron in the Great Hall. They'd tell her she was bonkers for dreaming about Draco, and she'd nag about their messy and incorrect homework. They'd go to class, and she'd forget all about it.

As if ringing the truth of their reality, her mobile rung. It slipped in her hand as she fished it from her pocket, but gracelessly caught it. "Hello," she said shakily into the receiver.

"Hermione," Harry gasped on the other end. "Where are you?"

"I'll have to call you later -"

"Talk with me now. I know you're outside, your coat is missing. Come home, you'll catch a cold out there."

"You're not my father, Harry Potter."

"Um -"

She snapped her phone closed, wincing as she did so. She didn't want to hurt Harry, she didn't mean to react the way she did, but all that was happening was overwhelming. It didn't give her an excuse, she realized that. She'd have to apologize to him later. If what Nott said was true, apologies over her behavior would be forgotten.

"Granger. He's waiting for you."

She took his hand, feeling the rough callouses along the balls of his hands, and the tightening of her stomach in preparation. She was about to meet the truth. Either she'd die believing a daft lie, or she'd return Kaida's father.

"Apparate me," she asked, high hopes laced in her voice. It could be her poison, running through her stream. It could kill her, if it was all a lie.

Hermione's naval was wrenched forward, the shapeless colors of her bookstore swirling around her. She gripped Nott's hand feeling his bones shift slightly. He squeezed back roughly in retaliation. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat.

Nott's house was expansively quaint. the downstairs was all adorned in wood. Through a double archway there could be seen a long table crowded with chairs. That was it. No artwork or items to be admired. The centerpiece was the staircase, large enough to hold twenty people shoulder-to-shoulder. The upstairs was a balcony, doors practically making the wall.

"It used to be a boarding house," Nott explained, hanging his cloak on the rack.

She pushed her agitated hands in her pockets, holding herself there. "What is it now," she asked conversationally, keeping her mind off of rudely searching each of those rooms for Draco.

"My home."

"No one comes here?"

"You ask a lot of questions. Haven't changed much, have you?"

"I'm not raising my hand," she responded coolly, and she saw his lips press into a line as if to refrain from smiling. "How's Terra?"

The corner of his lips pulled up into a real smile. "She's well. This is where we teach."

"What do you teach?"

"Everything."

"Why not in a school?"

"This is a school. My wife is deaf, and her children are deaf. Never seen a deaf Wizard, eh? This is where they can come, to fit in."

Hermione smiled kindly. "Do the children know about Draco?"

"Ah yes, the blasted war hero."

"Hero?"

"We embellished. A lot. We concealed his Dark Mark - didn't want to frighten the children. Now, Granger, are you finished asking every question in the book? If so, I'll go fetch Draco. The idiot said he wanted to walk to you."

She grimaced, unable to give a smile that time. She focused on steadying her breaths.

"Keep your enthusiasm in check," he said sarcastically, but she hardly heard him past her thundering heart.

He walked up the stairs and entered the far left room, closing the door with a sharp snap. That simple sound sent her heart into overdrive. Draco is in there. She wanted to follow so desperately, but the soles of her trainers felt as though they were nailed to the floor.

Hermione waited, the seconds booming by. There wasn't even a clock to see the time passing. Years could have gone and she wouldn't know, because each minute felt like an eternity.

Then, just as she was about to go to the door, it opened. A snake-shaped cane emerged, snapping on the floor.

There was a choked whimper that she recognized as her own. She cupped her mouth to prevent further noises, and blinked back the tears that pressed harshly against her eyes. She couldn't cry, not then, not when she was so close to seeing him. Finally.

Draco Malfoy limped out to the balcony, to the precipice of the staircase. His white-blond hair was longer, grazing his shoulders, his coloring a sickly yellow. There was smudged darkness under his light eyes, but they met hers, and lit as blinding as the sun. The boy she knew shined out, looking as healthy as he had once been. And she was alive. Hermione Granger came to life.

She ran, bounding up the steps and into his arms, just as she had done on that chilled morning at the train station. The cane clattered beside them as she inhaled his scent, running her hands over his cheeks, through his locks, down his neck and shoulders, over his chest. His heart was there, he was alive proving to her that it wasn't a joke. Freely, she cried.

His lips descended on hers. He breathed once, "finally," is what he exhaled.

A/N: Further explanation of the curse will be told.