Author's Note: Thank you for the wonderful (anxious) comments on the last chapter. It's been lovely to have so many people along with this story, and I'm honoured to say Distance has been nominated for a couple Granger Enchanted Survivors Awards. I appreciate it greatly xo. We're into the final five chapters here, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one!
PS I've posted a poll on my FFN profile, if anyone wants to check it out and vote or send feedback :)
Thanks to my Dramionerds for a conversation that inspired part of this chapter. 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 stared, unseeing, into the floor. Likely, it had been hours since they had discovered the chamber and the truth behind the bulls. Since they had read the last words of a dying man.
It was strange, how the passing of time felt the same, even knowing he had days or maybe hours to live.
Granger had wept, lost of composure and hope, until she had fallen asleep, face buried in her arms on the council table. And Draco hadn't known what to say to her – not when he felt so devoid of hope himself.
He had moved her to her blankets on the floor and taken up vigil at her side, his back pressed against the hard stone wall. His ankle throbbed a dull rhythm, but he could scarcely feel it anymore in the light of what they had learned.
His mind churned and spun.
To think that they had finally found some answers, after everything. But now it was too late.
The man whose journal they found claimed he had managed to seal the magic inside the chamber, which might have been promising if not for the fact that he had needed to seal himself inside along with it. He'd claimed the corrupt magic itself fought to keep knowledge of its existence hidden.
Draco thumbed through the pages of the book, squinting at the tight script along the margin.
For sealing, the copy said. His heart jumped as he read through the incantation – but it was only to seal the second door so the magic would never escape of its own volition. There was no way to force the magic from the outer chamber to the inner. No way in which they could escape. And besides that, they couldn't make their wands work anyway.
He thought of Granger's words, when they had still been in London, quoted from Healer Randall. That they might one day dig too deep; that the magic may retaliate against them.
A bitter sort of irony tugged at his heart. This qualified.
Somehow, in all of their searching of the Indus sites, all their research in London and Harappa and in the weeks since Draco had approached Granger – they had reached too deep. They had angered the ancient magic simmering in Harappa. The same magic that had turned on its practitioners and forced them from their homes.
Granger stirred on the floor, her fingers constricting. Draco took hold of her hand, pressing his lips into a thin line.
The thought that he had almost allowed himself to consider a future with her felt like a cruel joke. That he might find true happiness, despite everything he had done in the past.
A thick lump settled in Draco's throat and he took a sip of his water, cognizant of the fact that there would be no way to collect more. Setting aside the skein, he dug through his bag with his free hand, drawing out the endless stacks of notes.
He leafed through the pages, settling at last on a drawing he had captured in the caverns in Mohenjo-Daro. The practitioners there had painted murals of crops, beneath a bright sky, much like the original paintings here in Harappa, before they had been painted over with the dire images of death and destruction.
He could only imagine how the practitioners had felt, when the magic turned against them. Their sheer terror.
His fingers trailed across the drawing and he remembered the time he and Granger had discussed their hobbies – the day when she had been in St Mungo's after her accident, looking forlorn and anxious.
She had said she liked to paint and asked whether he would show her one of his drawings.
A smile tugged Draco's lips at the memory of it. He stared down at the assortment of plants, crops of tall sheaves and shorter healing herbs.
Granger blinked awake and took up the seat beside him, rubbing at her eyes as her face dropped to his shoulder. "You drew this?"
"Yes," Draco agreed, nodding. "In Mohenjo – these same crops were painted here, in the past."
"I remember," she breathed. The softness of her voice stirred something anxious in Draco's soul. "They're lovely. I regret I never had a chance to show you any of my paintings."
He forced a smile, dropping a kiss into her hair. "I would have liked that." His eyes fluttered and he attempted to stifle a yawn behind his hand, feeling fatigue encroach. He wondered if it was the same feeling Granger had spoken of, now affecting him as well.
"How are you feeling?" she whispered, her brown eyes alert.
"Tired," Draco admitted. "I can't even imagine what the magic in the chamber is doing to us… whether we'll even have as much time as Randall said when you became sick."
Granger released a long breath. "I doubt it."
He nodded, wondering at the frantic rhythm of his heart. "It's… a strange feeling, isn't it?"
"Yes." Tears sprung from her eyes again and her gaze remained fixed ahead. "I guess I still believed, somewhere deep down, that we were going to figure this out. I didn't think..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "I just thought we were working so hard, right? Eventually our efforts would come to something. And to think, now we're to sit here and wait… until the end."
"If this has to be our end, Granger," Draco breathed, his mouth dry. "I'm glad to be here with you." He swallowed, his own eyes stinging. "I'm so bloody glad you gave me a chance, and we were able to put everything behind us…" He stared ahead, thumbing absently through the journal. "You've made me happy, Hermione, in a life when I didn't imagine I'd ever feel that way again."
She was silent for a long moment, her hand grasping his. Her rattling breaths were punctuated with sniffles and she breathed, "I love you."
Draco's eyes snapped to her, dumbstruck, as he blinked.
"I know," she muttered, swiping at an eye, "it feels contrived and false and like I'm just saying it… but I'm not and I just need you to know… you've made me so happy."
She paused, silent tears pouring down her cheeks. "And Draco – I will die here with you, if this is the end we've been given. And I will do so with pride, at the side of a man who has traded in the poor cards he was dealt to make his own path. I will only regret the whole world didn't get to see it."
She sniffled again, eyes falling shut as she steadied her breathing.
"Hermione," Draco choked, swallowing as moisture stung at his own eyes. He shook his head, a swelling of emotion in his chest. "I love you. I don't even deserve you, but –"
Her lips found his, catching him off guard, but she pushed herself up to his chest until she was in his lap, kissing him with a fierce sort of delirium. Her fingers buried in his hair; she pressed herself against him until he could feel moisture on his cheeks and he wasn't certain the tears were hers.
Draco kissed her in return, hands skimming her sides and her chest, even as something deep within him broke at the desperation between them. Her trembling fingers pulled at his collar, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt until she drew away, releasing a sharp breath.
He kissed her again, slower, his heart racing in his chest. When she returned her efforts to his shirt, Draco murmured against her lips, "What are you doing?"
Granger leaned back, her bloodshot eyes meeting his. "I thought, if we're both going to die, maybe…"
He smiled, his heart breaking at the sight of her. "You're so bloody beautiful, Granger." She blinked at him, her fingers trailing patterns across his abdomen. "I want to," he whispered, "but you're crying. We're in an ancient cavern full of corrupt magic. There's an actual skeleton in the corner… and I need you to keep your strength."
Her hands dropped away, and she offered him a watery snicker. "I want to have sex with you, Draco Malfoy, because then at least we'll die smiling."
He laughed aloud despite himself, sweeping away a tear from beneath her eye. "Believe me, I want to have sex with you too, but I don't know how much energy we have left… and…"
He trailed off, shaking his head. She was magnificent, even crying and filthy, and everything he would ever want – and she was about to die. In every fibre of his being rose a wild vehemence and a bold defiance of their circumstances. He couldn't sit by and watch that happen.
"And Merlin, Granger," he went on, pressing his lips to hers again with insistence, "but I'm not going to just sit here and lose you."
A wrinkle came to her brow as she shifted from his lap, watching as Draco rose to his feet and walked to the door. He flipped through the journal again, landing on the page with the incantation. Granger paced to his side, peering at the page he was reading.
"Even if we could somehow pull the magic from the outer chamber," she whispered, her words rolling fast, "our wands won't channel our magic. We only had enough for a simple lumos, remember?"
Draco's gaze swept the chamber, searching for anything they could possibly use. "There is magic down here, we just can't use our wands. The bulls had magic in them – if we can somehow wield them…"
Granger shook her head, consternation on her brow. "The magic had been released from the bulls and confined in the chamber. I don't imagine they'd have enough of the corrupt magic to sequester the rest of it."
Draco kicked his bag. "Moreau's figure – it's been sealed since it was brought into the Auror's Office."
At the way her eyes brightened, his heart rate sped up, pounding a desperate beat against his chest. "Do you think it's possible? Can we use the bull as a wielding device?"
"I don't know," Granger whispered, a quick shake to her head. "We would have to release it from its protective packaging, and make the attempt fast, before its magic abates. It would probably take our combined power. But I'm certainly no expert on wandlore."
Draco ran a hand through his hair. "How would we clear the magic from the outer chamber?"
Her eyes narrowed and fixed on the wall. "I don't know. Evanesco, confringo… aguamenti? Could we drown the magic?"
"Not without drowning ourselves," Draco quipped.
She pressed a hand to her forehead, blinking several times. "We could try to –" Granger cut herself off as she lost her balance and stumbled, her hand landing hard on the jagged wall before Draco could catch her, his eyes wide in fear.
"Granger," he hissed, taking her hand; blood seeped from several scrapes on her palm. She blinked weary eyes at him, her vision unfocused. "Granger! Are you alright?"
"Think so," she said, "just a bit dizzy."
"Fuck," Draco cursed as he paced the chamber, mentally cataloguing every spell he could think of that could pull the magic from the outer chamber and somehow trap it inside while they escaped into the outer – it would be their only chance to seal the magic without trapping themselves as well. He cringed as he ran a hand through his dirty hair, realizing, "I don't know of any spells strong enough."
Granger paced to the next wall, sinking down to the ground. "Just going to sit for a minute," she mumbled, her words slurring; it set Draco's every nerve on edge to think that the magic was impacting her so intensely so soon. It had taken the Aurors weeks to progress, but they hadn't been exposed to a chamber full of it. She continued, "Air feels a bit nicer over here."
He pressed his lips into an approximation of a smile, pacing the chamber. "Just hold tight, Granger."
Draco fixed a stare on the wall beside Granger's head, frowning to see there was a shimmer in the fabric of the lingering magic. He stepped into the space beside her, blinking.
"It is fresher," he said, surprised. "I wonder why that is?"
Granger's breathing was shallow, her eyelids fluttering as she stared at him. There were several overturned crates in the corner and she shifted through them with one hand, keeping the other firmly planted on the stone beside her.
His eyes landed on a small artefact with a smudge of Granger's blood on it and Draco started. "Let me bandage your hand, please," he requested.
But she shook her head. "It's fine." Her eyes shuttered again before she blinked at him, offering a smile. "Let's find out what's affecting the magic in this corner."
Nodding, Draco released a tight breath. His mind spun with the smallest of hopes that they might be able to use the magic from the bull to channel the sealing incantation – it was uncharted territory being so ancient, and he didn't know if it was even possible. Provided they could figure out a way to ward away the magic.
He rifled through the crates, a desperate sort of panic rising in his chest which he attempted to quell with little success. On the floor beside him, Granger's breathing rose in volume, growing erratic as she took deep breaths.
"Hold on," Draco ground through his teeth, "just fucking hold on."
He carded his fingers through his hair in frustration, and his eyes fell on the artefact with Granger's blood on it. Beside it lay a small container made of woven fibres, and most assuredly preserved with magic like the rest of it. It was more banal than most of the other objects but something about it held Draco's gaze. He might have overlooked it entirely if not for her blood.
He took the small woven package into his hands, peeling the weave open with care. Like everything else in the chamber, its contents were preserved. It was a small stack of dried leaves – some sort of herb – wide with feathered edges.
Draco held up one of the leaves to take a closer look in the dim light of Granger's flashlight, and he noticed her staring as well.
"It's…" she began, swallowing, "from your drawings."
His gaze met hers, his heart pulsing wild in his chest. He darted back to his bag and found the drawing of the herbs from Mohenjo-Daro once more. His fingers grazed the drawing and he breathed, "You're right. Why would they have gone to the efforts to preserve these down here? Do you recognize the leaves?"
Granger squinted, holding out a hand. Draco passed her the leaf and she cradled it in her palm, peering closer and inhaling its fragrance. "I think I do… but I can't place it offhand."
"There are others," Draco went on, digging through the rest of the basket. More woven packages of dried herbs – all the same leaves, some fragile and broken and in varying stages of disintegration. "If they painted this plant on their walls –"
"They valued it," Granger inferred, still staring at the leaf in her palm. "Perhaps their healers utilized…" she trailed off, her lips parted as her eyes snapped to him. Her voice dropped to a whisper when she went on. "It's called tulsi."
"Tulsi," Draco went on, frowning. "It sounds vaguely familiar. Why preserve it here?"
"Also known as Holy Basil," Granger recited, her voice breathy; Draco could have cried to hear her sound so scholarly in so tense a moment. "Tulsi is regarded as a sacred plant in Hindu culture, considered a physical manifestation of the goddess Tulsi."
His breath chased from his lungs. Granger rubbed at her eyes and went on.
"It's known for its restorative and spiritual properties… for anti-inflammation, rejuvenation, detoxification," she went on, shaking her head. "I don't remember."
"So if it was so highly prized in Hinduism," Draco inferred, "the people of the Indus Valley might have valued it for the same reasons. If it had healing properties."
She gave a shrug. "It sounds likely."
They held one another's gaze for a long moment, Draco hardly daring to breathe. He began, his tone delicate, "Do you suppose it might…"
Her lips thinned. "It's… possible."
She took the stem of her leaf between two fingers and waved it in the air; the dense magic twisted and repulsed from the herb. The breath chased from Draco's lungs.
"It's…" she said, shaking her head, eyes shimmering with moisture. "It's repelling the magic."
Draco held the woven package in his hand and swept it through a cloud of the magic; it dispersed, chasing away from the herbs. "I can't believe this. We can… take the tulsi." His heart felt fit to burst at the thought of it.
"We can try." Granger's eyes widened as the haze of disorientation faded from her stare. "We need to get out of here – we need to reach St Mungo's and –"
She mashed at the Portkey on her collar with fury, catching Draco's hand with her other. But nothing happened and her face deflated.
The quiet realization settled across Draco. "Even if this herb is a way to prevent the illness from spreading, or Merlin willing, a cure… we still have no way to reach the Ministry."
"Even if," Granger elaborated, gesturing with a hand, "we can somehow break out of this cavern, if we can somehow seal the magic inside and utilize Moreau's bull… we're still trapped below Harappa. We won't be able to get through that cave-in without magic."
Draco released a noise of frustration, setting the woven package atop the nearest crate and fisting his hands in his hair. "We can't be this close and have no way out!" His heart was racing, chest heaving with his breath. His voice dropped. "We just can't."
"They still have a day or two," Granger hedged, "back in London… I think. I'm afraid I've lost track of time."
"So have I," Draco admitted. "But how are we meant to let them know?"
The rising frustration in his chest built to a breaking point and he shook his head, a bitter sort of disappointment settling in his heart.
"I have an idea," Granger whispered, stumbling to her feet. Her balance was weak as she reached a hand out to steady herself, and she paced slowly to her bag with the woven packets of herbs in her other hand. She tucked the journal into the beaded satchel and collected the sealed bull figure, as well as a few of the pages of Indus characters.
Draco grabbed his bag and slung it over one shoulder, following her lead and grabbing the last of their things.
She met his gaze, her eyes fluttering, as she pressed the sealed figure to the first door. "We're going to get out of here, Draco – somehow."
He swallowed, wishing they had a way. With so many of the answers at their fingertips but no way to pass them back to London…
The door to the cavern rolled away with a great rumble; Granger slipped one of the extra bulls into the seal on the cavern side, to ensure the door stayed open from within.
The air in the outer chamber was as hazy with the magic as they had feared, thick and noxious; it set Draco's pulse racing to think that only one wall remained between the magic and the ruins above.
Using one hand to steady herself, Granger peeled open one of the woven packages and began to disperse the leaves through the second chamber. To Draco's astonishment, the haze of the magic began to retreat into the main cavern, the air in the second chamber clearing.
"You're brilliant," he whispered, eyes wide as he followed suit with the remaining leaves.
"We will need to keep Moreau's figure with us," Granger breathed; Draco could see the pallor to her skin, and the way a thin sheen of sweat had broken out on her temples. "But it will remain sealed in the secondary chamber, with no way to access it."
"Granger, take the tulsi," Draco urged, pressing a few of the leaves into her hands. "Please."
"We need to repel as much of the magic as possible," she whispered, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Once we seal the magic inside… we can take the tulsi. If it works… great. And if it doesn't..."
Draco swallowed, not needing her to finish the sentiment. If it didn't work, they wouldn't need to find a way out. They would never get a cure back to London. And everyone affected by the illness wouldn't survive the week.
He gave her a shuddering nod.
"And if we can't repel all of the magic back into the cavern," Draco began, carding a hand through his tangled hair. "It will only disperse as far as it can saturate. And remember, the magical dispersion in Moreau's house didn't make it that far."
"So if a small measure of it gets free," Granger breathed, sinking back against the wall, "it might be okay."
"Right." Draco felt exhaustion tugging at the recesses of his mind, the illness affecting him as well. "Let's release the door then – and we'll attempt to seal the magic inside with Moreau's bull."
He paced back into the main cavern, and with one last look around, he knocked the bull loose from where it was inserted, tossing it back into the heap with the rest of them. He made his way back into the secondary chamber with Granger as they watched the door slide shut.
"Do you suppose it needs the seal?" Granger asked, eyeing the figure in its protective packaging.
"Would it hurt?" Draco returned with a shrug. "If the excavators thought it was necessary, we ought to try."
"But we will leave Moreau's bull inside this chamber," she pointed out. Draco caught her gaze, sighing, even as she shook her head. "No – let's at least try… just in case."
She offered the bull that Draco had toiled over for what felt like far longer than it had truly been. The sleepless nights, the hours upon hours of researching and struggle –
He gave Granger a tight smile. She held the journal in her hands, open to the page with the incantation. "This is it, then. Time to see if we can wield repressed magic through an ancient, cursed doll." He caught her eye with a smirk. "Just any other… Tuesday?"
"Is it Tuesday?" she asked, her face twisting with thought. "Wednesday?"
Draco hesitated. "I think it's… you know what – never mind."
Granger released a soft giggle and Draco grinned despite himself, taking her hand and sliding his fingers between hers. He cast her a sidelong look, pressing a kiss to her temple. He felt the significance of the situation in her returning stare as she handed him a sharp instrument imbued with damaging magic from her bag.
Draco released a long exhale as he sliced through the packaging, taking the bull figure bare into his hand. Granger's eyes fell shut as he brandished the bull towards the wall ahead of them, reciting the incantation from the excavator's journal.
The cursed magic of the figure coursed through him, drawing from his own magical core and Draco could feel Granger's magic flowing through him as well. It would have felt incredibly intimate if not for the intensity of the situation.
The magic pulled, ripping at him, and Draco ground his teeth against the corruption in the figure as he fought off the intrusion with the remaining vestiges of his strength. He pushed against the magic, forcing the incantation to take hold, until at last he felt his own magic cleansing the corruption and chasing through the bull like a conduit.
The seal around the cavern lit with a brilliant blue light, before fading away.
Draco panted, his heart racing and chest heaving as the bull fell to the floor with a clatter, its power spent.
"Did it work, do you think?" he breathed, one hand hand dropping to his knee in his fatigue.
Granger's fingers slipped from his as she collapsed back against the wall and Draco's heart plummeted into his stomach. Her breathing was shallow, sweat collected on her pale face as her eyes fell shut.
"Granger," he whispered, dropping to her side. "Hermione."
Panic racing through his soul at her lack of response, Draco gathered up as much of the tulsi as he could manage, thrusting a handful of it into his bag. He lifted Granger's prone form against him; her beaded satchel hung from her shoulder.
Then he seized the bull from the floor and thrust it against the door of the second seal, impatience and terror coursing through him as the door rolled open.
Draco laid Granger on the ground, her back propped against the wall, unwilling to look at her blank expression. He threw the bull back into the second chamber just as the door came to a close, sealing the cursed figurine inside forever.
His heart pounded as he returned to his bag, forcing open Granger's mouth and shoving several of the dried tulsi leaves onto the back of her tongue, having broken them up into pieces. He massaged her throat as he poured the last of her water into her mouth, feeling a jolt to his heart as she swallowed of her own volition.
Next Draco consumed some of the tulsi leaves himself, hoping against everything that the herb would help.
His heart throbbed in his chest at the thought that he still had no way out of the tunnels and no way to get a report back to London. In desperation, Draco threw the contents of his bag onto the floor of the tunnel, leafing through notes and instruments with abandon, wishing there was anything at all that could help.
Granger's breathing was laboured beside him, her head lolling to the side to rest on her shoulder. Unable to steady his breathing, Draco pulled her closer to his side. Panic and fear chasing through his veins, he dropped a kiss to her hair.
"I don't know what to do, Granger," he whispered, feeling his hopelessness manifest as moisture in his eyes. "I don't know how to get us out of here."
She released a sigh, her body trembling in his arms. He couldn't lose her, not after everything they'd been through.
Startled, he looked down to realize the tremble was a twitch in her hand. Her hand was curled into a loose fist but for her pointer finger. Following the movement, Draco realized she was reaching for the distinctive pale purple of an interdepartmental memo stuck between a few sheets of parchment.
"It's okay, Granger," he breathed, pulling her closer against him.
But she was insistent, her fingers curling towards the memo. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
Draco's mind raced as he tried to follow her thought processes. The fatigue pulled at his hazy brain, tugging at his own eyelids. His head rolled and he started, eyes flying open. And at once, it clicked.
"The memo," he hissed; Granger's fingers curled around his and her head dropped to his shoulder.
He had almost forgotten because it had been such a new development, but with the increase in lost interdepartmental memos in recent months, Minister Shacklebolt had strengthened the charm on all memos.
The innocuous sheets of parchment were now spelled to reach their destination in the Ministry, no matter the circumstances.
Heart racing, Draco rifled through his bag for a self-inking quill. He scrawled a hasty message, his hand shaking so hard the words were barely legible.
Trapped in tunnels beneath Harappa.
GIVE THEM TULSI.
DM
The quill fell from his fingers with a rattle to the hard earthen floor; he blinked several times, eyelids thick with exhaustion as he watched the memo fold into shape and take flight.
Then his head fell back and everything went dark.