I meant to update this awhile ago, but I didn't have a full 20 pages and I was like 'oh, I'll just finish this up real quick' and then that real quick turned into weeks...
But, I this is one of my more favorite written chapters, and I hope you all enjoy it too!
Thanks to my reviewers: Laura, Toni, Herdcat, TinySlippers, whenthesnowmelts, and FantasticHufflepuff!
Laura: Thank you!
Toni: They will find a happy ending, I swear it's coming even if right now it still seems very far away...
"So you and Miss Granger are…not dating?"
Draco paused with his fork halfway between his mouth, staring down at his mother's form. He didn't know why right now of all moments, at what had been such a nice and casual brunch, she decided to broach this subject. Perhaps it's because his father wasn't in the room. He hadn't been thrilled about Hermione moving to the guest cottage, but he didn't put up a fight. Still, though, Draco had a feeling he'd have a hard time coming to terms with the fact that maybe one day she'd be in the family.
He set his eggs down, folding the Daily Prophet he'd been half-heartedly scanning.
"No, mother, we are not." He said, hoping his tone would end the conversation.
"But you two are very friendly…she's living in our guesthouse, you know." His mother continued, absolutely meaning she hadn't gotten the hint or ignored it (likely the latter), staring at him with narrowed eyes.
"Of course I know. I'm the one who invited her to live there," Draco gave an annoyed growl in the back of his throat.
"So you two kiss and such and you have told your father as much that you refuse to date anyone else ever and you both have matching rings that neither of you wear on your finger but it's around your necks and-,"
"Mother," Draco's tone was sharp and irritated, "Just what in the world are you trying to say?"
"I'm not even sure, love," His mother set her tea-cup down to make a clattering sound, "I'm merely trying to understand it, is all. I don't see how two people can simultaneously be together and not be together?" She questioned.
"It's very complicated, mum," He said softer, drawing his eyebrows together, "It's different than when you and dad were getting together. You didn't have these Games hanging over you."
"I just don't want to see my baby get hurt."
"I'm not going to get hurt," Draco stood up, taking his mother's hand, "We both need time to…figure out our own shi…stuff. The games did a number on us. And we do love each other, at least," Draco gave a half-laugh, "I love her. She's almost said it back, I don't want to rush her. And maybe we are together," He mused, "But not in the traditional sense, you know? Neither of us wants to deal with the journals or the questions or the interviews really being together would put on us. We have enough of that anyway."
As he tried to form what was with him and Hermione, he watched his mother, rapt with attention. One could say all the bad things they pleased about Narcissa Malfoy, but never could they accuse her of not loving her son in every convincible way. She was really trying to find the meaning within his words.
"We like this, whatever it is. Best friends, right now, I suppose," Draco gave a small smile, thinking of the late nights they'd shared of late, the laughing-something Draco thought himself incapable of doing- and the shared looks of just…happiness. It was eight days since they'd come out of the games and it had been the best eight days of his life in a very long time. Being around his parents was great, but deep down, he knew it was Hermione that made him feel so.
"And I have to think that one day we will be together, because I just can't imagine ever letting her go." He finished, looking at his mother's impassive face, "Does that…do you…"
"Not quite," His mother admitted, patting his hand, "But one day I will. I want to understand you, Draco, and this person you've had to become. He's very different than the one that left us."
"Is that good or bad?" Draco asked, getting up to grab a piece of toast from the center table.
"I haven't figured it out yet," His mother said honestly, and Draco nodded. He'd always appreciated the stark truthfulness of his mother.
He took a short hike through the gardens to where the small cottage lay. Small for him of course. When Hermione had seen it, she'd made some small noise in the back of her throat and asked in how in the world he thought this was just a 'quaint' cottage. Yes, it did have three bedrooms and a full luxurious bathroom off the biggest one, plus other niceties, but compared to his house it was 'quaint'.
Hermione hadn't truly left in days. She'd holed herself up doing what he remembered Hermione doing best…reading. She'd been quite impressed with the Malfoy family library, and the way her eyes had lit up once he'd told her she was free to take any book she wanted…Well, she'd magically carried nearly forty out to the cottage with her that night.
But he was starting to worry. Besides that trek to the Malfoy Manor for the books that first day, she hadn't left. She was completely self-sustained here, having a kitchen and baths and Draco brought her food or ingredients to cook everyday, and while he saw her everyday, it was the fact that she'd really only had communications with Hannah that concerned him.
And not for other's lack of try. Sitting on her kitchen table was a pile of letters from everyone, and he meant everyone. Literally anyone who was anyone and anyone who was a nobody had penned Hermione at least once. People like the Weasleys that remained or Neville at least once a day. Fred was the most irritating, with nearly three letters per day.
And all of them, except Hannah's, were left unopened.
"I don't know how to talk to them," Hermione groaned when he asked about it yesterday, "I don't know if I want to. I just want to pretend I never have to leave here again."
"That's unfortunately impossible," Draco said, curling his arm around her, "We have the funerals, you know."
"Yes." Her voice was scarce, "But is it so bad that just until then I want to act as though none of that happened and just…exist?" She asked in small tone.
"Whatever you need," Draco assured, but deep down, it concerned him. Hermione had always had such a…connection with others, with her friends. Gryffidnor loyalty, he'd once scoff at. The thought that she was here, hermiting away, made him wonder if there was a deeper issue.
But it wasn't all for a lost cause. Hermione was not Hermione without a project. And, the first night, he'd been quick to show her the book Snape had given him. Snape had as much as said it was going to go to Hermione if he had died, so obviously she was a safe person to show. He still didn't understand it anymore than the moment Snape had handed it to him.
"It's a book of children's fairy tales," He'd explained at Hermione's confused look when he showed her the cover, "You've never heard of any of them?"
"Well, I was a muggle. I guess it's akin to Cinderella or Rapunzel…" She trailed off, flipping the book open.
"I don't know what those are, but sure." He said, "I also don't know why this matters. Unless Dumbledore is trying to congratulate us about something that hasn't happened yet, beyond the grave…" Draco blushed a bit, and Hermione's eyes snapped up, "I'm just saying, I don't think that it's an extremely early baby gift."
"No, no…" Hermione frowned, "It is something more." She agreed. Then, she was adamant about translating the runes that it was written in. Draco, frankly, found that to be a waste of time.
"I have a version of it at home, translated." He'd said when she requested his old Ancient Runes text book. Hers she seemed to have lost, even though she was far better in that course than he ever was.
"But why didn't he just give us that, then? There has to be some significance!" Hermione insisted. So, that's what she'd been working on. Translating the entire book, bit by bit, and them comparing it to the text he'd given her. So far…nothing.
When he appeared, he found Hermione leaning over the desk, scribbling something.
"Anything, yet?" He asked, gnawing his lip. It was day eight. On day fifteen, two weeks after the end of the games, would start the funeral period. 14 days for the families to plan their funerals, a small grace given to them. And they were expected to be at all of them, per tradition. And Snape would be there for some, at least the Slytherins. Draco really didn't want to admit to his godfather there was nothing figured out about this tome yet. He didn't want to let him down.
"Oh, hey," Hermione jumped at his voice. She seemed more tired than usual, deep bags underneath her eyes. She almost looked…well, like she was on drugs. But Draco knew she didn't take any.
"Let's…go over here," He said, gently guiding her away.
"Not a single thing." She sighed, "Except that I've made progress on runic translations, nothing is out of place yet and I'm nearly through the book." She squinted, "You wizards have strange fairy tales."
"No stranger than a girl who doesn't get the love of her life and turns into sea foam or birds that peck out evil step-sister's eyes," Draco battled. He might have taken it upon himself to look up some muggle fairy tales, after hearing that they had them, and was pretty much appalled at what he read.
He got a small smile from Hermione. "Touché." She agreed.
Her leg bounced, a nervous habit he'd never seen from her, and she looked around, as though haunted.
"Draco," Her voice cut through his thoughts, "I need you to do something for me." She said very seriously.
"What?" He asked. He'd do anything for her.
She went to her beaded bag, one that she never seemed to go anywhere without, even within this house, and pulled out a lump of something wrapped in fabric.
"Take this," Her voice broke a little, "I can't…I can't have it with me anymore." She whispered.
"Hermione, what is it?" He asked, starting to unwrap it.
"No! I mean…oh, bollocks…" Hermione groaned, and Draco stayed like a statue, fingers hovering over the lump.
And she told him everything. About how she saw Harry in the games, how he saved her. About how she was with Ron when he died, between when he died. About George and Madam Malkin putting it with her and the explanation about it all.
"And these last few days, it's haunted me. So many times I've almost unwrapped it but I cant." He voice raised a pitch or two, "It will only go badly if I do. It's tempting me, too tempting. And like this, so broken, I think usually I'd be stronger…" She added dejectedly.
"No, Hermione," He lifted her chin, "No one is saying you're not strong. If you've managed to survive with this so long, you're so brave and so powerful. You don't even understand how much of a temptation this would be to some." He said.
"I need it somewhere safe. It was impressed upon me that it is vital to something, but I'm not sure what. But I have dreams of using it, of seeing Harry or Ron or Seamus or Lavender." She lifted a quivering hand to her lips, "And it's always awful."
"Is that why you feel you can't write back to those people?" Draco guessed.
"I have a way to contact the dead, sitting in my hands. I feel selfish for not telling them, but it's not a toy, and it would- no it does- only brings misery. But I feel like every time I look at those letters it's just going to spill out of me all at once and they'll hate me for keeping it from them. So I can't, not yet."
Finally, an explanation. Draco nodded, tucking the balled up fabric into his jacket pocket.
"We'll have to face everyone soon." He pointed out. Hermione seemed better now that it was with him. She took in a few gasping breaths.
"I know. And by then, I'll be ready. Just not today."
Draco leaned forward and kissed her forehead, "Of course. Can you take a break from your translating?" He asked. Hermione gave a nod.
"Yes, I feel like if I continue staring at it, I'll just miss something." She grinned, looking at the bulky thing she called a 'Tee-Vee' that she'd insisted on bringing in, "I am going to continue to culture you in the ways of muggles," She decided.
Draco groaned playfully, but admittedly in the last four or five days she'd shown him her favorite 'movies' and he'd found them…enjoyable. It was such a strange form of entertainment, so different than anything else he had. The only comparable thing was the screens that played the Green Games, but this was nothing bad, only good.
"What today?" He asked, leaning back on the couch while Hermione pulled out a large book of little discs.
"Dirty Dancing or Ferris Buller's Day Off?" She questioned.
"I don't know what either of those are," He said, but lunged forward to drag Hermione onto his lap, "But I think I like the sound of the first one," He whispered against her neck. She shivered, and Draco smirked.
"It's one of my favorites," Hermione gasped, trying to regain her breath, "And you are incorrigible." Draco shrugged, letting her off so she could load the movie. Even if they weren't 'dating' they could still enjoy each other physically, at times. Sure, it had only been a couple days and they really hadn't done much more than slightly-heated kissing but Draco was sure more was going to come of it. So far, Hermione hadn't asked him to stop.
The movie was enjoyable, full of dancing (as the title suggested), catchy tunes, and watermelon. Hermione's whole face was alight as she watched it and she mouthed nearly the entire movie. That was half the fun of it for Draco.
Before the movie had even ended, she'd fallen asleep and Draco carried her up to the bedroom and tucked her in. As much as he so very much wanted to stay with her, curl up next to her, he'd promised his father they'd go out to lunch, so he left her a note.
Lunch with his father was…exactly as expected. He didn't ask about Hermione, he didn't offer anything up. His father was a warmer person, though, since his son had been reaped and made it through alive. There was a part of him that seemed more…ready to fight. Many times during their lunch did Draco nearly bring up the revolution he'd been looped into, but he just couldn't find the right words.
Later that night, he sat pacing in his room. That damn stone was in his cabinet drawer, but he understood why Hermione might have been going mad. It was haunting him.
And he was so close to not giving in. So close, he felt he would have been able to just deny its presence, if not for a missile sent his way. Snape updated him whenever another funeral had been arranged, and this particularly one…it was about Colin's. Of course, Snape had zero idea what the boy had meant to Draco, but getting this now? Sadness so overwhelming it knocked him to his knees washed over him for a second, and that was all it took.
That was it, Draco decided, as he unfurled the long strand of fabric to unveil the tiniest stone he'd ever seen. Had Hermione not stressed the importance of it, he would have never guessed it was so extraordinary.
He grasped it in his palm; pressing so hard he was sure one of the sharp edges would break the skin.
"Please, please," He whispered to the universe, "Bring me-,"
"Draco?"
Draco turned, nearly dropping the stone. He stared at the apparition in front of him for a couple seconds, although it wasn't quite an apparition for when he went forward and pressed his hands upon the man's chest, it was sturdy. He nearly laughed, nearly cried.
"Holy Merlin, it works." He said, but then, his shock dissolved away as he looked at the stone.
"Hoping for someone else?" The person asked, walking over and sitting on Draco's bed, "Just as I remember it," They said sadly, "But then again, Draco Malfoy has never been one big on change." It almost sounded like a jab, "Or, he used to not…"
"It's been a long time since we knew each other, truly, Blaise." He murmured, looking down. He didn't answer the first question, but Blaise seemed to know.
"I'm sorry I'm so unwelcome," He gave a languid roll of his eyes, and flopped back on Draco's bed.
"When you die, do you..re-collect?" Draco asked, trying to carefully form a question, "I mean, if someone were to have been blown apart in this life would they-,"
"The Creevy kid," Blaise narrowed his eyes, "You love these Gryffindors these days, don't you?" He asked, and Draco locked his jaw, "But rest assured, buddy, we become our best selves in the afterlives. Otherwise, you'd be staring at a kid with his throat ripped out, which, hey, your girlfriend did, remember?"
"I do," Draco hissed, "So what? Are you here to haunt me because of that? Unable to move on?"
"We weren't able to, originally." Blaise said, "Because of who we were," He looked down, unhappy, "But Pike turning the last second? It saved all of us- me, Daphne, Tracy, Corner, from a life as just wraiths."
"And Pansy?" Draco asked hesitantly.
"I dunno man. Haven't been able to feel her spirit in the other world. I don't think there was enough of her left." He said, almost sounding sad. Draco got it, a bit. There was a time, long ago, when she had been their childhood friend. And yes, she'd turned into a murdering psychopath in the games, but other than that? Did anyone really deserve any of it?
"Hermione said that you couldn't control who comes to you. Maybe the dead control it." Draco sat beside his friend. It was easy to forget Blaise was dead, when he was so, full next to him, so alive looking…almost, at least. His skin was a horrible ashy shade.
"I think I was thinking about you, brother," Blaise's voice was rough, "How we were as kids. How I sort of regret the path I went." He stared at his hands, "I thought it would keep me alive. Turns out, it didn't, so, yeah…I'm just really sorry." It almost sounded like Blaise was crying.
"Oh, damn it, Zabini," Draco said, his voice hoarse as he stared out at the window in his bedroom, also trying not to tear up. Unexpectedly, Blaise wrapped his arms around Draco, patting his back. Draco stiffened for a second, before hugging back.
"I miss you, dude," Blaise murmured, "Afterlife isn't the same without you."
"I miss you too, brother," Draco admitted. When he opened his eyes, Blaise's figure was gone, but his scent remained. Draco sat with his arms clutching air for a couple seconds, before startling out of it. The stone dropped with a 'clink' to the floor.
He stared at it like a venomous bug for a couple seconds before hastily wrapping it back up in the cloth and this time locking it in his drawer. Hermione was right…this thing was dangerous.
But he was glad he saw Blaise. He'd been doing his best not to talk about him. His father had tried to broach that subject, and since Hermione had been the one to kill him (unintentionally) that had gone about as well as anyone could guess. In other words; not well.
And even though he'd told Colin what seemed like years ago that him and Blaise hadn't been friends for a long time, that didn't mean Draco couldn't still miss him. That didn't mean that if things were different that one-day maybe they wouldn't have reconnected. It didn't mean that this meeting hadn't shaken Draco to the core.
Because it did. And he began to contemplate just how much the games had taken from him, or what future opportunities they'd taken. And if was just the first year of Slytherins. For just a moment, he fully understood what Hermione had been going through for years.
And he'd kill anyone who tried to tell him Hermione wasn't strong because to go through this year after year and still be breathing was the most impressive thing he thought anyone could bear.
There was a breakthrough three days before their precious time alone, unbothered, was up. Hermione was determined to make head-way of this text she'd been given. Quite unusual, the text, in that there was seemingly nothing unusual about it at all. She'd translated the whole thing, each and every world. And while sometimes her word choice varied between sentence-to-sentence, overall there wasn't an extra line or a missing line or anything to show here what she was supposed to be seeing in this book.
So she took to spell casting next, which was of course a dangerous gamble. She didn't want to blow the cover off it or set it on fire or anything, so her ability to try to maybe uncover something was very limited. She thought maybe the book itself had been transformed into this ordinary object, but no…Dumbledore had truly bequeathed Draco, indirectly, a book. Just as he'd bequeathed her his wand…
Hermione tapped her own wand to her temple, something she did when she was feeling nervous or anxious. It wasn't even about having her wand; it was about having a wand in her hand. Reminded her of simpler times.
But maybe that continual tapping was what she needed, because as she was flipping through the pages absently, her eye caught something. She pressed the book open to 'The Tale of Three Brothers'. In the corner of the page was a symbol, one Hermione was positive she'd seen somewhere before, but for the life of her it was escaping her thoughts. But there was a symbol here; something there wasn't anywhere else.
She sat back; could it be so simple? Was this Dumbledore's way of marking things? Or was this merely part of the text?
She toyed with the idea of the latter, thinking she was now just seeing things in her overworked brain, but the more and more she stared at it, the more she was absolutely sure that this was significant.
She grabbed the book from the desk and threw on a pair of shoes before walking across to the Malfoy Manor, looming impressively over her tiny cottage. She hadn't been outside, not properly, in days. But she hadn't a reason to, not truly. Draco would argue- oh, she was quite aware how worried he was- but now she felt like she wanted to be out. They'd made progress on something.
"Hermione! Are you hurt? Are you dying?" Draco questioned as soon as she walked through the door. Thank Merlin he'd been walking through the parlor when she arrived. She'd successfully avoided his parents so far, except for on the first day here when she shared awkward niceties with Draco's mother and his father just lurked in the background like a salty cat. She hadn't thought as far as having to ask them where Draco was, so she was pleased.
"Do you know what this symbol is?" She asked breathlessly, shoving it in Draco's hands.
"It's not in the runic list?" He squinted, bringing it closer to him.
"No, I don't think it is. And this is the only story that has any sort of mark, picture, anything! And it's not in the text, it's before it. I think this is what we're supposed to find, Draco." She said, tapping the page.
He looked about ready to argue, but once he looked up and saw the determination on his face, he nodded.
"Should we…" He waffled in his spot, looking out the door and back into his house. Hermione had only ever been as far as his library. The place didn't seem as scary now that she was so excited.
"Well, I've gone through all the books that might have helped us in my place," Hermione thought, "Do you think your library might have something else?"
"Please," Draco scoffed, "My library has answers to everything."
Hermione gave a grin, "Must have been nice, growing up like that," She said longingly. She then took a moment to look down at herself, "Merlin…I think I need a shower or at least some new clothes."
She turned to go back to her cottage, but Draco caught her arm, "C'mon. You can shower in my place. I'll bring some books up to my room and have some food made. You hungry?" He asked, and her stomach growled before she could play it off casually.
"Do you usually do this? Was this how you were around exams at Hogwarts?" Draco questioned, looking her up and down, "It can't be healthy." He shook his head.
"Well, never like this," Hermione admitted blushing, "Nothing was ever as…important. And in my younger years, I had Harry, and then later, Ron…and after that, well by the time Ron and I weren't speaking it just seemed so…pointless to study for these finals, year after year when we might have just been plucked to die anyway." She began to blabber, and then caught herself, "But I guess yes, I get like this." She decided.
"So I should have forced you out? Stopped you?" Draco asked a little guiltily, "I'm just used to people sorta minding their own business and-,"
"Draco, stop. Do you really think you could have dragged me away?" She asked with a pointed look. He chuckled.
"No, of course not." He realized.
He led her into his room, something she realized she'd never seen, much less thought about. It looked like a room a Malfoy would like. Well, she'd seen his bed when they brought that to the games, and little bits of furniture. It had been impressive then, but now- in the space it was designed for- it was stunning. She'd never thought a room could be so beautiful and yet, here she was.
"Bathroom's this way. I'll get food and stuff while you're in there and try to find some books that might pertain to this." He said. Hermione nodded, walking into his also impossibly beautiful bathroom. Everything was so clean.
She peeled away her clothes and set her beaded bag on the counter top. By the time she'd finished, using Draco's array of hair and soap products (more than Hermione ever had) she felt very refreshed and bright again. Stepping out of the shower, she saw just on the edge of the counter was a pile of clothing. She held it up and looked at them; not hers, but her size. They weren't…ostentatious, not like that, but they weren't exactly what Hermione might have picked out herself. They were beautiful, though.
She put them on, wondering for a horrifying second if they were his mother's, but since she only had her dirty things with her, she couldn't complain.
"Oh good, they fit," Draco said absently as she came out of the shower, brushing her fingers through her hair.
"Where did you get these?" She asked warily.
"I had some purchased when you first moved here. You know, because you don't have a lot of clothes. And we'll have to go out eventually and you should have options. Not saying you can't buy your own stuff," He added, looking up, appraising her, "But as much as I might like, we can't run around naked." He said and then innocently looked at her, "Sandwich?" He offered.
Hermione opened her mouth, maybe to yell, maybe to stutter out something, but in the end just said, "Thank you."
Between them sat a pile of books. They read in silence for a while, the only sound the sound of them munching on their lunch, the turning of pages, and frustrated groans and another book was added to an ever-growing pile of 'non helpful'. So far, in all his books on symbols, this one hadn't appeared yet.
"Maybe…" Hermione sighed, reaching over and grabbing her beaded bag, "I might have…borrowed some books from the restricted section of the library, ones that McGonagall might have given me the impression of that they were ones that shouldn't fall into the wrong hands. Perhaps it's all connected…" She shook out her bag, and what seemed like the contents of an entire house landed at her feet.
Draco instantly snatched up something silver and shiny.
"So, I gotta know…this is how Potter avoided everything back then, huh?" He asked, running his fingers over the invisibility cloak.
"Of course," Hermione gave a small grin as she basked in memories, "He wasn't a great spell caster, so thank Merlin his family had this."
"You know, it saved your life so I can't complain but I swear…" Draco trailed off, as though only processing what Hermione had just said, "Family?" He pulled a face.
"Yes. It was his father's, and his father's before that and I don't know how many generations and such, but…what's that face?" Hermione titled her head as Draco held up the fabric.
"The hell is this?" He whispered under his breath before turning to Hermione, "Look, invisibility cloaks are expensive but sort of like a gag joke or something. They don't last more than a couple years and after like ten or so they start loosing their ability. You're trying to tell me this thing has been handed down through at least four generations?" He said, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, we know it's been around at least seven years. Does it look faded to you?" Hermione said a little angrily, angry Draco would suggest that this was something that was going to fade. Draco threw it on himself and gave a noise of surprise.
"No, it's not." He said, startled a bit.
"Harry got it when he was just a first year," Hermione said, smiling at the memory of how excited he'd been, "Dumbledore gave it to him, saying it had belonged to his father."
"Why did Dumbldore have it?" Draco questioned.
"Dunno," Hermione gave a small shrug, "All he told Harry is he had wanted to examine it further, whatever that means, and he feels terrible because some part of him wondered if Harry's parents had had it that night, if maybe things would have turned out differently," Hermione whispered, finding it hard to re-tell it.
"Differently…it's not like this cloak, it's just a cloak." Draco scoffed, "Sometimes when Death comes, you can't avoid it."
"We've avoided spells in this cloak." Hermione said defesivly, "Third year when Harry got that map, the one that Voldemort later took, and you can't see yourself on it. And any reveling spells don't work on this. I mean, I'm sure if someone sent a hex directly at us under it, it might do something but we've never tried." She said, as though for a second forgetting Ron and Harry were gone.
"This is very strange indeed," Draco rubbed the fabric between two fingers. He groaned, "Why is everything Dumbledore gives us so elusive? Why couldn't he have written us a nice little note about how to fix things?"
"No kidding," Hermione sighed, "I don't think this cloak could avoid death, but the thought is still nice." She murmured.
"Avoid death…" Draco echoed softly, frowning. He grabbed the book.
"Where are you going?" Hermione asked.
"My father," He said. Hermione snatched the back of Draco's shirt.
"Can we trust him?" She hissed imploringly.
Draco pressed his lips together. "I believe we can." He said, "If I…I think my dad will do anything for me. And he's not Voldemort's biggest fan since I got picked." He added dryly. Before Hermione could stop him, he'd wrenched from her grip and taken off down the hall.
"Draco!" Hermione hissed, running after him. When she finally caught up, he'd already entered his father's study. She hung back watching as he set the book in front of him.
"Dad, do you know what this symbol is?" He asked. His father glanced at Hermione, hiding in the doorway, then back at Draco. He tapped the book, clearing his throat.
His father looked down, "Why, yes. It's the symbol of the Deathly Hallows," He gave a wry grin, "Something all wizards far over their heads often try to achieve."
"The what?" Draco's face was empty.
"Well, it's the belief that the story of these three brothers and their items they had aren't just a myth. I think it is now, but I admit in my youth I once tried to track one down…with obviously no luck, as I think it's just-,"
But Draco had gone stiff and pale.
"And, theoretically, father," He said, cutting his father off, "If one were to…have these objects…"
"Well they'd obviously be very powerful, as they're made by death itself. And if someone had all three…" His dad gave a low whistle, "Well, they'd be the Master of Death. Nearly invincible, one would say. Why the interest?" His eyes narrowed like the curious snake he was.
"Oh," Draco did a good job of seeming totally casual; something Hermione had never quite grasped the art of, "I just found this book in all my things. Didn't recognize this symbol, though I know the story and mum read it to me a thousand times as a kid," He rolled his eyes, "Made you read it to me too."
"Yes, wherever did you get this copy?" His father asked, but before he could seek further, Draco pulled it away.
"Found it while cleaning my dorm. Don't know where it came from." He said. Hermione wondered how truly he trusted his father, "Anyway, Hermione and I still have loads to prepare before, well, you know." All it took was sending his father one half-puppy dog glance and his father just softened, a look Hermione didn't think was possible.
"I know how hard it will be for you, son," He said, his words not meant for Hermione, and she felt like an intruder, "Blaise and Daphne and Pansy…I'm sorry." He said sincerely. Draco looked sad. Maybe he was, actually?
"It's just…I don't think I've realized it yet." He said, stuffing the book under his arm, "Anyway…see you later. Thanks, dad."
"Sure, anytime," His father said, frowning as Draco came back to Hermione. He walked just as quickly back to the bedroom.
"Draco, I don't understand." Hermione sighed, "What's the big deal."
Draco grabbed the cloak, throwing it on the bed. He undid a lock in his drawer and threw the wadded ball that Hermione knew had the stone also on the bed.
"A invisibility cloak that has survived far past its time that Dumbledore thought could avoid death. A stone that brings loved ones back from the dead, but at great risk. Does this sound familiar at all?" He said, each word hard and meaningful.
It took a second. She was ashamed it even took that long. She felt the breath catch in her throat and she lifted her finger to her lips, shaking her head.
"You don't think-,"
"I absolutely do think that we have two of the three hallows. And they're very much real." Draco said, staring down at them, "Just, I wonder where the Elder Wand is…"
"Draco," Hermione's voice was deathly soft, "I…I had this weird dream right after we won, I saw Dumbledore. He didn't say anything that sounded important, but he lead me to discovering the stone and we dueled and he made me disarm him and when I woke up I had this." She pulled out a wand from a pile, "It was his."
"You can't possibly be thinking that this is it," Draco's voice was quiet.
"I do." Hermione gave a grave nod, "I mean, think about it! Dumbledore was a master and his dueling skills were legendary. We all know he got this wand from Grindewald in his epic battle. I mean, I think maybe we all thought it was a trophy but what if it was so much more! And he mad me disarm him, he didn't just hand this to me, he made it so it was a show of power and I…" She set the wand by the other two and the three shapes- the triangle, the circle, the line- all merged into one in her mind. And there was a sensation of rightness all three together, a power that settled over both of their skin like ambrosia seeping into their blood vein.
"Holy shit, Hermione," Draco's eyes widened, "You are the master of death."
"Me?" Hermione jumped, "I…I can't be!"
"It's not that hard to imagine. You survived death not once, but twice! We all know that the first time, with me, you should have died. And you came back. And the second time, Voldemort says he fixed you, but you were bleeding out…you looked dead." The memory brought a haunted look to Draco's eyes.
"What…what do I do with this?" She questioned, staring at the three objects.
"There's gotta be more than just this," Draco said, placing both hands on his lips, thinking, "You can't just walk up to Voldermort and win. I mean, it's just a legend and such and it says you can win any battle, but let's not chance it."
"No, you're right," Hermione's shoulders dropped, "There's more."
Draco turned, grinning, "Hey. We figured this out! This is huge, you know," He leaned forward and grabbed her, spinning her around and kissing her firmly, "We'll get there. And once we tell the Order, they'll get there too. So many minds all working together…it's going to happen."
Hermione's fingers snaked in his hair and she gave a soft smile, "I hope so. I have to hope for the sake of everything we can."
Draco paused, stepping back, "I think we deserve a night of watching movies and relaxing, don't you? Nope, no arguing. That's what's gunna happen. C'mon let's scoop you're entire life back into this darn bag and tomorrow we can worry bout what to do with this information."
For once, Hermione didn't entirely mind someone bossing her around.
"This is entirely too much," Hermione pouted, looking at her reflection in the mirror, "I feel weird wearing something so expensive." She said, turning to see the flounce of her dress in the mirror.
"Malkin's was probably way more expensive than that," Draco pointed out, scoffing as he did up his cufflinks.
"But I didn't have a choice," Hermione turned to him, hands on her hips, "I'd feel much better if I wore something that I brought with me-,"
"No," Draco said swiftly, "I've seen your trunk contents. The best dress you have, that floral one, did you get that when you were thirteen?" His teasing was light, but it still hit a nerve.
"So what!" She threw out her hands; "It's done me perfectly well up until now." She said in a sour tone. Draco's eyes bulged.
"I was joking about it being from third year, Merlin…" He muttered. He sighed, standing up to place his hands on her shoulder, "Look, Granger," He said, that nickname so far only reserved when he was getting hot and heavy with her or when he wanted to make a point, "When you were fourteen you hardly were a woman. Now, you most certainly are one and you gotta play to your…figure." He purred.
"Ew!" From the doorway, Hannah slapped her hand over her eyes and backed away, "If you're going to invite me over, can you please not do that?" She asked.
"We weren't doing anything, Hannah." Hermione said, but her face was blushing and told a very different story. Or, what she'd rather be doing, maybe.
"Yeah, I mean, we know where your mind is, being newly engaged and all." He chortled and Hannah uncovered her eyes to send him an absolutely scathing glare.
"Hermione," She said, taking in Hermione's form in an appropriate, yet modern, light blue dress, "You look really nice."
Draco preened proudly.
"I feel so strange in it." Hermione gave up her fight, just looking down at it and frowning, "Like it's not my style."
"Well, you're style is…interesting." Hannah winced, "We're going to be out in public."
Hermione glanced between her best friend and her boyfriend, "I really hate the few times you two are in agreement."
"We're going to be wearing awful black things for the next couple weeks," Hannah flopped on Hermione's bed, "We might as well make today count, right?" She asked.
"We should get going," Draco said, checking the time on his wand, "It's going to start soon."
"Why does it matter?" Hannah turned over on her stomach, looking up at him, "It's not our items being auctioned off…"
"I have my reasons," Draco snapped, although Hermione had thought he'd been in a good mood previously. She didn't even want to touch this one.
"We might as well go soon," Hermione agreed with a longing tone, "And get it over with."
"What does she mean?" Hannah turned to Draco.
"Hermione's been systematically avoiding anyone who owls her." Draco said, ignoring the pointed and betrayed look she gave him. Hannah frowned at Hermione, opening her mouth, but didn't say anything. Her look did that itself. Hermione looked down, feeling shame and yet a flicker of indignation. She had nothing to say to these people yet, nothing that would sooth their hearts or make them not worry about her. It was easier to pretend like she'd fallen off the face of the earth.
"Well, we shouldn't delay," Draco said, holding out his hand to Hermione. After a long moment, she took it. Hannah grabbed her other hand. Together, the three of them apparated to the large auction platform.
Hermione tried to hide her face upon arrival, but it was useless as the hounds of newspapers descended on the three newest victors.
Draco ignored them with simple 'no comment', herding Hermione to the auction table. Hannah held her own, answering questions when she pleased, but mostly just giving them the finger.
He picked up an auction paddle, handing one to Hermione and Hannah. Both girls looked at him quizzically.
"Why would we need these?" Hannah said, flapping her number '67'.
"In case inspiration hits you, I suppose," Draco said flatly and started moving toward their seats, near the front, reserved for them. Hermione bit her lip, looking around.
"I'm going to get some water," She announced, her throat feeling dry and heavy.
"I can come with you," Draco offered but she shook her head.
"I'm fine," She hadn't seen anyone she wanted to avoid yet, thankfully. And if she did…well, Hermione could become stealth like at the best of times.
She found a water bottle and cracked open the seal and had drunk half the bottle even before returning to her seat. She was absent-mindedly staring around at the milling people when someone grabbed her arm and shoved her into a hall. She shoved him hard with her left hand and he flew back into 'omph'.
"Fredrick Weasley!" She cried, both very annoyed and very mortified, "You can't just do that to a girl who just came out of a game of murder!" She snapped, half-tempted to throw her water bottle at him.
"I had to make sure you were still alive," Fred snapped, angry- no, furious, "I haven't heard a thing from you in nearly two weeks!"
"I think it would be all over the news if I died," Hermione said, looking down and playing with the cap of the bottle.
"Is Malfoy not letting you talk to anyone? I always knew he was bad knews, you know." Fred jumped to suddenly, pulling her in, "If he's doing anything, you can-,"
"Merlin, Fred, no!" Hermione's eyes widened, "It's me." She managed to spit out, "I'm the one not answering. Draco actually encouraged me to answer at least you." Hermione's lip twitched to almost a smile, "I think he's terrified you'd come knocking on the manor door."
"I nearly did." Fred crossed his arms, "Hermione," He gave a long sigh, "Are you…okay?" He put a lot of emphasis on 'okay'.
"Were you…after you won?" Hermione answered dully.
"No, but I was never like this." He said, shaking his head, "You won, Hermione. Don't let yourself die after going through all this, and I'm talking about your spirit. It would be exactly what Voldemort wanted…a strong girl like you to just wither."
Hermione's expression sharpened. Firstly, she wasn't withering nor was she just…standing down! She was helping Draco take him down, clearly something Fred wasn't in on. And secondly, how dare he. But, the anger only lasted for a second before she felt just…empty wash through her.
"Fred, I'm just so alone." She admitted, "Not like you're thinking, but my entire grade has been nearly wiped out." She said, her mind counting off all those empty beds at Hogwarts, "The kids I met as a first-year…there's hardly any of us left! Do you know how that feels? Almost all your classmates made it out. The ones of us that are left," Hermione felt her lip quiver and she didn't want to cry in front of Fred, "And then there's you and your mom and I couln't save Ron. And Dean, he's owled and I couldn't save Seamus. And Lavender died in my arms, and Elizabeth- and his twin looks just like her!"
"Survivor's guilt," Fred whispered softly, "None of us…blame you at all." He said, "No one, I swear. We all get it, Hermione," He rubbed her arm in a brotherly manner, "And we just want you to get better."
"Did you hear my parents? At the carpet?" Hermione asked, "I've been owling them daily, but I just can't…" She shook her head slowly; "I don't know how to acclimate to this world now."
"It's not something you do all at once, trust me." Fred assured, "And you'll go mad without people, not just Malfoy or Hannah, but others. People that weren't in the games too. Ginny asks about you all the time, thinking maybe I have some secret line to you. And Neville was so excited to talk to you."
"Great," Hermione said, feeling something curl up on herself, "More people I've disappointed."
"No, that came out wrong," Fred winced, "I mean, they'll always be yoru friends. Don't shut them out."
The bell dinged to alert people that the auction would be starting soon.
"Do you have a seat? Of course, you're probably up front." Fred amended his own question, "Promise me you'll find me after? Maybe come to the Burrow? You don't even have to eat but I think you'll still find it enjoyable."
Hermione gnawed on her lip. "I'll think about it," She mumbled, but internally, she was sure she wasn't going.
She sat down next to Draco, and she saw him look at her hard, but didn't comment. She wiped her palms over her face to sponge away any moisture, because she felt she was very close to crying after talking to Fred.
"Hermione, what-,"
"Fine, I'm fine." Hermione snapped before Hannah could even get the question out. There must have been something dangerous in her tone for Hannah shut up.
The auctions started with the first dead; Wayne- as it would continue on in the order from there. There were parents here, sobbing figures in the background as their children's effects were paraded onto the stage and set out with a flourish like decorative plates for sale or something equally ostentatious. But it wasn't such; it was a favorite jumper, a teddy bear it seemed they had since birth, a journal filled with personalized notes. It left a sour taste in Hermione's mouth to see these things. They were so utterly intimate. She never knew Wayne liked to garden or that Mandy collected snow globes.
She felt like she understood them through their items.
There were Slytherins there, and obviously not that Hermione wanted to classify a whole house together because she was dating one, for lack of a better term, but these were classmates and older alumni of Draco's that seemed to be there only to cause pain and suffering. What did they want with Fay Dunbar's collection of shoes, anyway? It seemed they only existed here to aggravate parents with tear-stained faces trying to collect something left of their children.
Hannah bid on Hufflepuffs, Hermione went for Gryffindors. There was that unspoken acknowledgement that not all the parents here would ever be able to compete with the families that had endless money. It seemed a truth that certain children's favorite things would never return home just because this was based in money, not love.
She realized about half-way through that Draco had also started bidding on particular sets; one of people she never thought he cared about. Elizabeth's…she expected him to go for that, obviously. But Michael Corner's? Luna's? Even Lavenders? What game was he playing?
"I have so much money," He whispered and Hermione realized with a growing embarrassment she'd been whispering out-loud, "And these parents that can't afford their children's trunks? It's the same game you've been playing," His voice was even, like an untouched pond, but she saw a pain beneath his eyes.
Hannah's response was a choked noise, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but never let anyone tell you that you aren't a good man, Draco." She whispered, "And that's the last time I'll ever give you a compliment of such a caliber."
"Noted," Draco said, lips turning upward, "We can't let people that want nothing more than to make fools of them, of us, can we?" He asked.
Hermione felt her gaze slid back to the group of raucous Slytherins and other purebloods sitting a couple rows behind them, dispassionately waving their paddles and snickering. "No, we can't."
So I think at this point I have one, maybe two chapters left. Defiantly not more than 2. It all just depends how long a particular scene I added into my outline last min lasts, because if that scene wasn't there originally it would for sure be one, but now I really think it's two...maybe one very long chapter and one last tie-up epilogue. Ah, who can tell? Only time, I guess...not even me...the author.
But I do have lots of this planned for after this wraps up, I'll still be writing furiously! As of now, here's the unposted things I'm working on-
1) Seamus/Hermione oneshot which I will post before this story wraps up, so either between this chapter and the end if it seems it will be one chapter, or right before the last one.
2) Murven one-shot set in the years on the Ark
3) Jactavia supposed to be a one-shot now turned into a muchbiggerthing...
4) Zombie!AU the 100 multichap
5) The Selection!AU for Zutara
6) Bughead Prince/Princess!AU
Tell me what you thought!