Author's Note: You guys are all the very best, thanks ever so. I'm just going to... leave this here.
Alpha love as always to the wonderful Kyonomiko. Errors are my own.
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.
Draco couldn't be certain how long they had walked, only that they paced through the tunnels of Harappa until his eyes were hot and stinging from the dust and the fatigue. His ankle was throbbing to the point that he didn't want to look at it for the inflammation he knew he would find.
And Granger looked to be growing weaker before his eyes. His heart clenched and seized at the sight of her, pale in the faint light of their wands, her skin clammy and sallow.
She wore a strained sort of look of determination on her face and every time Draco turned to suggest she take a break, something within him broke a little further at the knowledge that they needed to persist.
It had to have been at least an hour or two – and for all Draco knew, they'd been winding in circles, given the maze of tunnels – when he faltered. He turned to Granger; her breathing was louder, as if she'd been struggling to carry on.
"You need to sleep," he said, wincing at her expression. "Even just a few hours – please, Granger. I'll keep an eye out."
Her voice was hoarse as she breathed, "I can't."
There was a thin sheen of dust to her, hair curls tangled and matted as she swept them into a messy bun atop her crown. If Draco's hands and clothes were any indication, he looked much the same.
"Granger," he said, shaking his head, "I need you to keep your strength."
She shifted on her feet, grimacing. "Only a couple hours. But you need to sleep as well. And rest that ankle."
"Never mind my ankle," Draco scoffed, even as he shrunk at the look of concern on her face. Even sick and dying, she was worried for him.
Granger selected a spot on the floor and drew a blanket from her bag, ignoring the way it picked up the layers of grime on the floor. She blinked at him as he settled against the wall, propping his knees up. "Will you lay with me?"
"Of course," Draco returned, unable to deny her anything. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep."
She caught her lip between her teeth. "It feels strange, when… well, we both ought to try."
Next she pulled an instrument from her beaded bag, setting an alarm on it for two hours. Draco knew he would be pushing it to try and get her to sleep any longer, recognizing that it was better than nothing. There was a solemn look to her that twisted at his gut.
He took up the spot beside her on her blanket, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. He hummed into her dusty hair, dropping his lips to the back of her neck. "Sleep, my Granger."
Granger tucked further back into his arms, and within minutes he felt the soft evenness of her breathing.
Hermione startled awake at the ring of her alarm, blinking weary eyes as she stared at her surroundings, lighting her wandtip. It all came back to her like a bad dream, only it was all true.
The figure, the visions, the tunnels and the way their magic had ceased to work, shot down by the magic in the tunnels.
She could feel Malfoy's arms around her and clasped his hand with her own, before turning to face him. His breathing was shallow, but he stirred under her gaze, his eyes fluttering as he pressed a soft kiss to her lips.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, a wrinkle in his brow as he drew away.
Hermione nodded, staring at him. "Better, I think." She rolled onto her back, gazing at the ceiling of the tunnels. "My brain felt so clouded before, I didn't even think of it – but we ought to mark our trail in a non-magical way, since the tracking spell failed when our magic cut out."
"Right," he said, swallowing. "Do you remember in our research? The tunnels weren't actually that extensive. We were probably circling the same area earlier."
"Not extensive, but confusing," Granger agreed. "Like a maze. It's good news, at least, because if there's something down here we'll find it."
"Something like a magical cavern," he nodded, rising to his feet and dusting himself off.
"Or remember," Granger said, feeling more alert as she rose as well. "The tunnels below Lothal had a vault. Maybe there's something like that here."
"It would be helpful if we could manage a brighter light source than our wands," Malfoy said, his eyes narrowed in thought. "We could have gone past something significant but been unable to see it."
She folded up her blankets, and with some effort and assistance, she managed to stow them back in the beaded bag. Her face tightened in concentration as she went back through the contents of the bag, before releasing a sharp breath and drawing something from deep within.
"I'd forgotten about this earlier," she said, shaking her head. "Merlin, I'd been fatigued. It's a Muggle flashlight, powered by batteries."
"I don't know what batteries are," Malfoy breathed, as she flicked the rubber button on the handle and a bright white light projected. "But have I told you you're brilliant?"
"I'm sure you have," Hermione teased, pressing against his side, "but it doesn't hurt to hear it again."
He grinned, but the expression softened moments later. "What would I do without you, Granger?"
She felt the sentiment deep within her, innate and significant, and she recognized what he was actually saying. She forced a smile. "You aren't through with me just yet, Malfoy. We have a couple days to figure this all out – and we will."
"We will," he affirmed, dropping a kiss to her temple. "Now we know the general idea of things down here. Now come – let's try again, but systematic this time."
Granger chewed her bottom lip with an intense sort of focus as she ran her fingers along the wall, embedded in a rough groove that spread from the floor to the ceiling. "What do you suppose it does?"
Draco shrugged, holding the flashlight aloft to project the white light on the surface she was studying. Despite knowing it wouldn't likely work, they had already attempted every spell they knew of in a weak effort to reveal anything. A door, or a passageway – but nothing had worked. Their magic had remained quiet in their veins.
"If we could access it somehow," he muttered to himself. He pressed a hand flat to the wall, feeling a rough curve inward. He swerved the flashlight towards his other hand, distracted from Granger's sound of irritation. His fingers traced the indentation as he huffed an incredulous breath. "You've got to be kidding me."
"What is it?" Granger breathed, stepping in closer. The brightness of the flashlight cast one side of her face into a pale relief. Her fingers met his, tracing the outline. "Is that – what I think it is?"
He shook his head, reaching into his bag and withdrawing the bull, careful to keep his fingers on the packaging and not the figure itself.
She whispered, "Do not tell me it's a bloody key." Eyeing his struggle to hold the bull, she gave him a gentle smile and took hold of the figure, pressing it against the indentation, maneuvering the protective packaging out of the way.
Draco released a breath as the wall began to shift to the side. He snickered, eyeing Granger. "I won't tell you, then."
"Unbelievable!" she exclaimed, throwing up her hands as she tucked the bull back into her own bag. "So this underground magical society was using these bulls as a means to access – what exactly?"
"A blank wall," Draco returned, his brows flickering as he stepped forward into the chamber that had been revealed. "Anti-climactic, really."
They both jumped, startled, as the makeshift door rolled back into place. But Draco could see an indentation on the side facing them as well.
"Another door," Granger corrected, running her fingers along an similar outline in the next wall. "It's a double seal. What do you suppose lies beyond this one?"
"A triple seal?" Draco snickered, feeling lightness at the discovery despite the persistent direness of the situation. "Or a magical chamber? A vault?"
"My guess is a vault," Granger hedged, drawing the bull from her bag once more. As she pressed the bull into the wall, she said, "It almost feels too easy, doesn't it?"
He loosed a laugh in return. "Granger, nothing about any of this has been easy. We're just not used to anything actually working anymore."
She tittered, a tilt to her head as the wall began to rumble and shift. "Maybe you're right."
He caught her stare before whatever lay beyond was revealed, his hand taking hold of hers. "Whatever it is, Granger – we're here together."
She released a tight breath. "Together."
And a gasp chased from her throat at the illuminated sight before them.
Draco turned, swallowing a lump in his throat. The air here felt different, cold and treacherous, thick and stifling. Intimidating magic danced across his skin, toying and teasing at his own vulnerable and neutered core.
"Malfoy," Granger whispered, squeezing his hand. "I'm glad you're with me."
He knew she could feel it too. This – whatever this was – would be where their journey would end, for better or worse.
It was a cavern of sorts, similar to the ones they had found in Lothal and Mohenjo-Daro. An elaborate bronze table stood to one side, chairs overturned and laying on their sides on the floor. An enormous statue of the deity they had seen elsewhere stood against the far wall, its face tense and unforgiving. Paintings were slathered along the walls in bright pigments, although the ones here weren't of a joyful and celebratory nature.
"The paintings," Granger murmured at his side, her hand tight and clammy within his.
He swallowed once more, finding the strength only to nod.
The paintings here depicted not dockyards or agriculture, but monstrous beasts, flaming flashes of red pigment smeared across the walls. People who looked inherently ill. The skies overhead were dark and ominous.
"What happened here?" he whispered, easing a careful step into the chamber.
To his left and right, shelves had been carved into the walls, deep slab-like indents; baskets and crates littered the shelves and were strewn about, their contents spilled across the shelves and onto the floor.
"The shelves," Granger hissed, "they're like the vaults in Lothal. Only… nothing is hidden, here."
"It looks as if it's been ransacked," Draco said, drawing in a long breath for courage as he paced forward another step. "Like someone was looking for something."
"Madame Moreau?" Granger asked, shaking her head. "Someone else?"
"If Moreau had the figure before she found the tunnels," Draco said with a grimace. "Which means someone must have left it elsewhere. This could have been someone else entirely."
He gestured to a basket laying on the floor, several bull figures spilled out. Granger gave a sharp inhale.
"More keys," she whispered.
"The keys, it seems, were corrupted," Draco agreed. "So Moreau could have found it, thinking it was just a carving."
"Maybe she never made it to the tunnels after all," Granger said, shaking her head as she peered down at the bull figures. "If the magical practitioners here were using the bulls to access the chamber, and the magic of Harappa grew sentient and angry…"
He frowned, feeling a bitter tug at his lips. "The magic had a dark sense of humour."
"So if all of the keys became contaminated with the magic," she extrapolated, venturing further into the room, "the practitioners in Harappa could have unknowingly exposed themselves, and everyone." Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Is that what happened to this magnificent society? They reached too far, bleeding the earth of its magic…"
Draco shook his head, coming up alongside her. "Maybe they left, not knowing why the magic turned against them. They left and got out – before it grew too bad."
He could feel the magic encroaching, twisting and wrapping around him, a chill coming to his very bones. There wasn't a doubt in Draco's mind he had become contaminated. He pulled Granger closer, his eyes falling shut. There was no way of telling how long the magic had been sealed away, building up in here – and they had just released it into the outer chamber.
There would be no way of escaping without releasing it into the tunnels in general – and into Harappa above.
And with such a great concentration of it…
Even if they somehow managed to find a way to fight off the magic, before it claimed them both, there was no way of knowing how far the corruption could spread. There were villages and cities in all directions, and if they released the magic, every case of illness or death would be on them. It would mean there would be no way of getting help back home.
And no way of ever returning back home, themselves.
The realization struck him with shattering force.
Her gaze flickered to meet his and Granger sunk closer to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her voice was soft and feeble, nothing more than an exhalation. "I don't think we can leave here."
He swallowed back the bitter sting of disappointment, mingled and dancing with fear so deep in his soul it caused a shake in his hands. "I think you're right."
She sniffled beside him, wiping a grimy hand at her eyes. "After all this, to come so far and end up so close…"
"I know," Draco whispered, his own eyes stinging as he pressed a kiss to her curls. "I know, Granger."
Ever the scholar, Granger lingered another moment by his side before venturing out, her fingers shifting through the baskets thrown from the shelves. She lifted a stack of paper, a gasp chasing from her lungs. Draco followed her, eyes widened as he saw the Indus symbols drawn on the parchment.
"Magically preserved, then," Draco inferred. "All of it. Like the chambers."
"I don't imagine I'll be able to see anything down here," Granger whispered, "but I'll try."
Her eyes fluttered shut, her hand finding his on instinct. She released a long breath, and her eyes opened again a moment later, staring but unseeing. She gave an ironic sort of chuckle, shaking her head. "Can you see them?"
Draco blinked into focus, tightening his grip on her, as he stared ahead with a weak, "Yes."
He could see the council of practitioners, dressed in bright and elaborate garb, seated around the table, its chairs straight and elegant. A collection of bull statues stood in the centre of the table – the magical keys – as some sort of meeting was held.
A man was seated at the head of the table and they all laughed and smiled, speaking rough syllables out of which Draco couldn't make sense.
Granger sniffled beside him, pulling him down to sit alongside her on the floor. A smile played at the corners of her mouth as she watched on. The practitioners threw sparks and laughed, casting some sort of spell. The paintings on the wall hadn't always been so terrifying; in the memory of the past, they were cheerful and bright, like the adornments in Mohenjo-Daro.
Draco recognized the same herbs and crops painted in smudged pigments, because he had drawn them himself, lingering in the cavern before returning to the hotel just days ago. The drawings he had all but forgotten about, which now lingered in the endless stacks of his notes.
At some point in time, after this had all happened, the drawings had been painted over.
The council cast another spell, chanting in the direction of the deity. Sparks flew through the room, and the practitioners grinned and conversed amongst themselves again.
Tears were flowing down Granger's cheeks, even as her gaze remained fixed on the table, his hand tight within her iron grip.
A few of the assorted baskets were visible on the shelves of time long past, organized and tidy.
"They were so cheerful," Granger whispered, her voice thick as she continued to stare, unblinking. "Merlin, I hope they figured it out in time."
"They might have," Draco hedged. "They might have warned the others, in Mohenjo-Daro and Lothal, and everywhere. Maybe they left the bulls in here because they knew."
"Maybe," she whispered, shaking her head. "Draco, I can't believe this."
They fell into silence, watching the council of practitioners until their magical spells died away, their conversation ended, and one by one, they rose with their bull statues and left the chamber, releasing the two sealed doors.
Draco blinked, his eyes stinging, until only he and Granger remained.
His gaze fell on the crates strewn across the floor, and he made to release Granger's hand when she clenched harder than before.
A different group of people materialized in the room – they weren't of the Indus Valley and Draco blinked in confusion, retaking his position at her side.
The contrast couldn't have been more severe – while the magical practitioners of Harappa had been joyous and merry, the men who now filled the chamber were in a panic, throwing things from the shelves in growing desperation. The drawings on the wall depicted the same horrors as they did now.
Draco could hear the escalation of Granger's breath beside him as she rose to her feet, walking closer to peer at the men. He trailed along, watching in mounting fear – there were five men in total, tearing the chamber apart.
They wrenched at their hair, hands shaking and faces pale, coated with a sheen of sweat. He gave a sharp intake of breath to hear one of them speaking English.
"We'll never find it," the man exclaimed to his cohorts, releasing a sharp wail. "We'll never find the damn cure!"
Granger stepped back, startled, and released his hand as she stumbled over a crate. Her head was shaking as she still gazed ahead, blinking rapidly. "It's gone," she whispered.
Draco swallowed, his heart racing in his chest. "Who were they?"
She shook her head, at a loss for words. "Someone who found the tunnels long before we did." A hand covered her mouth as she gazed at the wreckage of the cavern in horror. "But what happened – they were looking for a cure."
"They'd been infected," Draco inferred, poking through one of the baskets on the floor.
He blinked down at the collection of bull figures. "There were eight practitioners. There are seven bulls here."
Granger pressed her lips together, nodding in acknowledgment. "Yours makes eight. They're all accounted for."
Draco sighed, running a filthy hand through his hair. "Thank Merlin for one small mercy, at the very least. The corruption will die here."
He didn't add the last, horrifying words. With them.
As Granger turned baleful eyes on him, he didn't need to.
Hermione sighed, shaking her head. The fatigue was back, pressing at her with insistence.
It was crazy to think that just hours ago they had harboured hope – hope for rescue or escape, hope for a cure, hope at a life after all of this.
And it had all been taken in the blink of an eye. She would never be free of the sickness, and she could only imagine Draco had contracted it as well, the way the magic hung heavy in the air like a haze.
They had found stacks of parchment with old Indus characters, baskets of bronze and jewels, a mixture of the mundane and the extravagant. But nothing that could offer them any solace in the situation.
No way to reach out to home – and no way to escape without exposing the dense magic in the second chamber to the ruins of Harappa above.
She righted one of the fallen chairs, sinking into it and dropping her head into her hands. Without the hope of hours earlier, the fatigue had swept in faster, pulling at her strength and her muscles, leaving her brain murky and tired. Her mouth felt thick and she was unable to speak, dropping her face to the cool surface of the table.
Malfoy pulled up a seat beside her, looking as exhausted as she felt. His brows were knitted as he stared at her, his grey eyes dull. "I'm so sorry, Granger."
Hermione sat up, taking his hand into hers. "I'm sorry – that it's all come to this."
His seat wobbled and he frowned in irritation, glancing down. Hermione might have laughed at the banality of it if her heart hadn't felt so bereft.
But he reached down and lifted something out from beneath the leg of his chair. It was a small leather-bound book, and he tossed it to the table in front of them.
Hermione looked up, toying with the thin book. "It must have been left by that crew of men we saw." She flipped through the first few pages, interest piqued despite herself. "It's a journal."
Malfoy shifted closer, leaning in to read over her shoulder. "They were part of the excavation crew?"
Hermione nodded, her fingers easing across the words. "They were here in 1924. They must have been the ones to discover the tunnels. Wizards, then."
She stared, fascinated, as they read through the small book. Malfoy swallowed as well, reading aloud. "The team is now ill. The figure we stumbled across in the northwest of Harappa has exposed a chamber of fell magic. We have yet to find any cure."
Several pages on, the tale continued. Hermione whispered the words to herself, her eyes widening as her heart raced. "We have determined a means to seal the magic within the chamber. The magic has done well to keep its source location hidden from all knowledge. It is vastly corrupt. Three of our team are now immobile, and I fear the same creeps into my own heart. Time is nearly out."
They exchanged a grim look. On the next page, Malfoy carried on.
"I am the last one yet alive," he read, a breath catching. "Only seven of the cursed figures lie here in this chamber, when eight chairs exist. I hope the last figure is buried deep, so this magic cannot ever be released, even as wisps of it linger in the ruins above, chasing down all memory of its continued existence."
He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair as he continued to the last written page. "I have burned the bones of my comrades, in hopes it cleanse the cursed magic from their spirits. If my book remains in this chamber, I shall hope no one ever finds it, as it will mean I never discovered a cure or a means of escape. I shall seal the magic inside, and with it, myself. I pray it is never again exposed."
The rest of the pages were blank and silence fell over them like an insidious cloud.
Hermione choked on a sob, looking up at the chamber in which they were effectively entombed.
In a deep recess across the room, she could make out the faint outline of a skeleton and her hands began to tremble as she shook her head, harsh breaths chasing from her lungs as she clapped her hands to her mouth to stifle a scream.
"Shh," Malfoy breathed, pulling her closer, his forehead meeting the side of her temple. She could feel the moisture from his silent tears on her face. He murmured, "I've got you, Granger."
But she could only whisper in horror, "What have we done?"