Chapter 9 – Sanctuary
A/N: Ahhh! Thank you to everyone for your kind words regarding the last chapter! It was a doozy to write but still quite fun! This chapter will be a bit softer – aftercare is important y'all. I've taken some liberties with the timeline (aka really diving into the canon divergence) as well – I'll try to provide little time prompts so it's easier to follow. For those interested, I am a very visual person. Which means I have Pinterest boards galore to assist in descriptions. So here ya go – Pinterest board for Sanctuary: DeltaRaeDixon/delphicpigeon-inspiration/sanctuary-metanoia/
With all the madness going on in the US, I just want to thank everyone for taking the time to read this lil story of mine. Self-care is important and I hope this story brings you comfort. Much love, delphicpigeon
Draco landed in a mess of arms and legs in the early light of dawn. He quickly disentangled himself from Granger's heavy form and staggered to a tree. He released the meager contents of his stomach with gut-wrenching sobs. He had left his mother. Snape had blown himself and several Death Eaters to pieces. Worst of all, Voldemort knew they had escaped and would ruthlessly hunt them down like animals. He gagged on the acidic taste in his mouth. A quiet rustling from behind caused Draco to whip around, wand held aloft.
"Malfoy?" came a confused voice, "What h-happened?"
Draco studied Granger's disheveled appearance. She was laying on the ground on her side, propped up on one arm. Blood caked on her injured arm and her hair hung matted and wild.
"You don't remember?" he asked, disbelieving.
She winced, attempting to sit up. She gripped her head and squeezed her eyes shut, a look of pained concentration on her face. Her lips murmuring softly as she walked herself mentally through the evening's events. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open.
"It can't be." She faltered, "I-, she…wait a minute."
She whipped around to face Draco, an incredulous expression splashed across her face.
"Minu armas."
Draco stilled. He remembered the thrill at hearing speak his name, but he immediately buried that for much later consideration. She stared at him for a long moment, waiting for his explanation. Draco raised a shaky finger and pointed at her bare shoulder. She peered down in confusion and gasped upon seeing the smeared blood. Granger frantically began trying to wipe the red symbol away while also attempting to check herself for any other markings. Tears were streaking down her face and she began hyperventilating, breaths coming out fast and ragged. Draco took a small step towards her and the movement caused her to freeze like a cornered animal.
"Granger," he snapped, "If you keep doing that, you'll pass out again."
He took another step towards her.
"What happened, Malfoy?" her voice shrill, "I only remember a flash of light and then I was here…with you."
Her large, amber eyes watched him – demanding answers. Draco released a breath, relieved those eyes were no longer deep pools of glinting black.
She truly didn't remember what had happened to her.
He took a deep breath and looked around, observing a muddy and rutted road with a snow-covered cottage peeking from the twisted trees.
"First, let's get inside somewhere." He ordered, "I don't care for being out in the open like this and if you haven't noticed, its bloody freezing."
The snide remark seemed to knock Granger out of her dazed mindset. She looked around as well and when her eyes landed on the cottage, she turned to peer up at Draco.
"I suppose." She sighed and struggled to stand under the weight of her torn dress, the hem caked in mud and wet from sitting in the snow. She toppled in a huff.
"You know," she ground out, "I thought Purebloods were supposed to be all about manners and etiquette. Some assistance in standing would be helpful."
Draco smirked at her irritation.
"Yes, we Purebloods are trained in all societal graces," he responded, his pale brow quirked in amusement, "However, watching you struggle is immensely entertaining."
"Malfoy, you are such an arse." She snapped, finally finding her balance.
Draco snorted and turned to walk towards the cottage with Granger trailing behind him.
Hermione watched Malfoy walk away, his dark robes a stark contrast to the soft white surrounding them. His hair was disheveled from the Portkey journey and his face more pale than usual. Hermione was, once again, completely in the dark. She found this incredibly irritating. From the supposed "Rite" to the surprise ritual and then her whole world going dark. All she could remember was unknown words like a song rippling through the dark and the soft sigh of a woman. Hermione vaguely recalled the feeling of deep longing. A longing so intense, she felt like she might drown in it.
Minu armas.
She stopped walking. Those words she had spoken upon waking. Why were they so familiar and why did they keep echoing in her mind? Hermione inhaled the crisp, cool air and let the small wintery wind caress her skin. She heard the sharp chiming of ice crystals swaying in the air and the burble of nearby water. Hermione spread her fingertips, almost as if she were reaching for something. A deep rumbling moved up from the earth, a smooth rush of magic pierced through her core. The air and earth intertwined and danced, filling her with elemental power. Snow began to dance around her hands. She had never felt so connected to magic.
Hermione gasped in delight, her face lifted to the misty gray sky. She was so lost in these sensations, she didn't notice Malfoy had stopped walking as well.
"Granger, what the hell are you doing?" he grumbled.
Hermione blinked and dropped her arms. The sensations abruptly stopped.
"I…er-," she mumbled, "Its just, um, really pretty here?", she fiddled with a frizzy curl, purposely refusing to look at Malfoy.
He narrowed his eyes, evidently not believing her stuttered words, and resumed his trek to the cottage. Hermione quickly scurried after him, baffled at her actions.
What in Circe's name was going on with her?
She shook her head, despite her ever-growing list of questions. If Hermione Jean Granger was good anything, it was researching for ridiculously difficult answers to questions no one ever thought to ask. First it was Horcruxes, now it was unexplained expanded magical abilities after a blackout. Not to mention, she was also utterly alone with Death Eater Malfoy Jr. in some unknown location with no knowledge of how she got there. That was a completely different set of questions. Oddly enough though, she didn't feel threatened by him. Irritated and exasperated, yes, but not concerned that he would harm her. She snorted at the absurdness of it all. A couple more steps and she arrived at the side of Malfoy, who was scrutinizing the small cottage before them. A sharp look of disdain on his face.
"Some sanctuary." He sniffed, "But the wards seem solid enough."
Hermione looked sideways at him. Of course, he'd turn up his nose at this humble cottage.
Snobbish twat.
"It looks perfectly fine to me." She countered, "Much better than a tent with two moody boys. Although, I'm not sure a cottage with a pretentious prat is much of a upgrade." She gathered her skirt and pushed past Malfoy and through the door. Malfoy stammered after her, unable to form a sardonic response. A smug grin tugged at the corners of her mouth.
Good to know her mental faculties were still sharp enough to shut down Malfoy's wit. He was still, or at least had been, second only to her in their academic record.
Malfoy huffed, wisely choosing to ignore her jab, and shut the door. He grimaced at the state of the cottage. Hermione couldn't help but scowl as well. The cottage was in great disrepair. Ash spilled out of the fireplace, furniture was overturned, and cobwebs drifted softly from the wooden rafters. Thankfully, the roof appeared to be stable and the windows intact. The interior, however, needed a very thorough scrubbing. Malfoy ran his fingers over a large wooden table and pulled his hand back, a sneer distorting his features.
"This place is filthy." He complained, "It isn't even fit for servants."
Hermione rounded on him.
"Servants?" she shrieked, "You self-righteous, pompous arse!"
A crackle of electricity sparked through the air. She squared her body towards him and begin stalking forward.
"Would you rather be back at that horrible place you call a home?" she seethed, "Torturing and murdering people with all those psychopaths?", the air began rapidly cooling around her and wind started whipping inside the cottage.
Soot swirled and Malfoy began choking on the thick, gray ash.
"How DARE you complain!?" her voice rising, "I nearly died because your bitch of an aunt decided I was her own personal carving board and Merlin knows what that sick madman did to me while I was unconscious!?"
Ice crystals began forming on the rafters and windows while a nearby cup shattered. Malfoy flinched as shards flew, still suffocating as the ash spun faster and faster.
"Granger!" he choked out, "Stop!" he struggled to walk towards her, fighting against the gale of freezing air.
Hermione didn't hear him as the din of her fury continued to grow, her eyes growing darker – the shadow quickly overtaking the amber. Quietly, a voice spoke in her mind.
Child. Do not harm him, for he knows not other ways.
Hermione panicked. Where was that voice coming from? She listened, waiting for the voice to return. She was met with internal silence.
The room continued its maelstrom of ice and cutting air. Malfoy was shivering, his clothes starting to crystallize from the sub-zero temperatures pulsing from her.
"Please!" he gasped out, as the tips of his fingers slowly starting to blacken.
Suddenly, Hermione was drawn back to the present. She inhaled sharply, realizing the destruction she was causing. Malfoy was cradling his hands against his body, shards of ice spiking from his clothes while a thick cloud of ash hung in the air.
"Malfoy." She whispered and instantly the soot fell to the floor, further blanketing the interior of the cottage. The coldness quickly dissipated and returned to a normal temperature. She rushed towards Malfoy's shuddering form. He recoiled when she came to his side, further tucking his hands towards his body.
"I am so sorry." She whispered softly, "Please let me fix this."
Slowly, Malfoy withdraw his hands from his cloak. Hermione gasped at the state of them. His pale hands were a sickly blue with the tips a deep gray. She felt sick. Frostbite. She had frozen his fingers. What kind of monster was she? Quickly, she wordlessly summoned a nearby jar that had managed to survive the destruction and lit her signature bluebell flames to provide some warmth. Malfoy was watching her closely, obviously still concerned she would go on another magical rampage.
"I am going to try and reverse the frostbite alright?" she explained, "Please hold out your hands."
He sighed and nodded, slowly extending his injured hands forward.
"No tricks Granger." He grunted, eyeing the blue flames gently flickering nearby.
"I promise." She insisted, "Now be still."
Hermione took a deep breath in, placed her hands just above Malfoy's, and closed her eyes. She concentrated on the magic still swirling inside her and reached for the similar magic contained within Malfoy's hands. She felt her breath catch as the magic begin flowing back into her hands. She cracked her eyes open and saw a soft blue light glowing from between their hands. She was incredibly relieved to see the darkened tips recede and color return to his hands. Once all the magic had returned to her and the blue light faded away, Malfoy snatched his hands back and shoved them deep into his pockets.
"What the hell was that Granger?" he barked, "Is freezing people's hands your way of saying thanks for saving your life?"
Hermione shot Malfoy a nasty look.
"Normally no, but I make exceptions for ungrateful pricks." She retorted, "Are you always such a snob Malfoy?"
Malfoy opened his mouth, obviously to make an equally snarky response, but was interrupted by a tap on the windows. Both Hermione and Malfoy turned to the source of the sound, their bodies both in defensive poses. Hermione shrieked in recognition.
"Hedwig!"
She ran to the window, quickly letting the familiar owl in from the cold. Hedwig thrust out her leg where a small scroll was attached. Hermione removed the letter and mumbled a small apology to Hedwig for their lack of owl treats. Hedwig only hooted softly in response. The letter was written in Harry's messy scrawl. Hermione felt her heart constrict at seeing his handwriting. Thank Circe, he was alright.
Dear Mione,
The plan worked. We were able to get you and the Ferret out. Unfortunately, that was Snape's condition for getting you out. This is an Order safe house – it's a remnant from the first Wizarding War. We won't be able to get to you for a month. I am so sorry, Mione. Don't reply – Hedwig is too recognizable. Lay low and I'll see you soon.
Harry
Hermione's jaw dropped.
She was stuck in this place with Malfoy, of all people, for a month! And what plan was Harry referring to?
Malfoy snatched the letter out of her hand. He snorted after finishing the short missive.
"A month?" he grimaced, "Think we can go that long without hexing each other to death?".
He crumpled the paper, dropped it into the fireplace, and promptly set it alight. He looked up at Hermione, who was still standing silently. He waved a hand in front of her face.
"Earth to Granger.", he called.
Hermione jerked and stared at Malfoy. She groaned inwardly and turned her attention to the snowy owl to her left.
"Hedwig," she spoke, "I understand. I'll see you again soon."
She gave the owl a small scratch, who hooted happily in response, and left in a great flash of white feathers. Hermione looked at Malfoy.
"Now, what do we do?" she asked, concern heavy in her voice.
Draco was astonished. He was stuck with Granger in this hovel for an entire month. No, not just Granger, but some volatile magical being that was capable of incredibly strong elemental magic. Nor did Granger seem to realize that all her shows of magic had been wandless. It seemed to Malfoy that Granger's near-binding to the "Dark Goddess" now allowed her to cast magic similar to the Old Ways. That type of magic hadn't been performed for centuries. He huffed. Thank Merlin, the Dark Lord didn't have access to that kind of magic. Granger seemed to be waiting for a response from him. Draco scowled.
"How am I supposed to know?" he questioned, "I've not been in this particular type of situation before."
He gestured to the chaotic disarray of the cottage while looking at her pointedly. She only continued to stare at him blankly.
"Look, Granger." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "It's been a long day. You look like hell. I feel like hell. Let's revisit this after getting some rest, alright?"
Granger nodded mutely, overlooking Draco's comment at her appearance. Draco pulled out his wand and vanished all the ash, revealing a lumpy couch, an overturned armchair, and a small end table. Draco sighed and conjured a couple blankets while righting the jumble of furniture. He turned to observe Granger silently light a fire in the hearth. An orange glow was cast over her features as she kneeled on the stone floor, stoking the fire with small logs. He saw a single tear roll down her flushed cheek and a small sniffle sounded out. Once again, Draco felt his determination crack. He wanted to be angry at her and her stupid friends for putting him in this position, especially for leaving his mother all alone. It wasn't truly Granger's fault, but she was all he had to focus on. He stifled a groan – this was going to be an exceptionally long month.
"Granger," he spoke, "You can take the couch. I'll take the armchair. We have no idea what state the rest of this hut is in and we are both exhausted."
Granger quickly wiped her cheek with the heel of her hand and stood up. She padded over quietly and tucked herself under one of the blankets, pieces of her gown from the previous evening peeking out and shimmering softly in the warm glow of the crackling fire. Draco lowered himself onto the opposite armchair with a grunt, tucking a blanket to guard against the cold of the dying afternoon light. He closed his eyes and let out a deep, exhausted sigh. A long month indeed.
"Malfoy?" Hermione ventured.
"Hmm." Draco responded, cracking open a single pale blue eye at her.
"Thank you for saving me." She spoke gently.
"Go to sleep Granger." He yawned, closing his eyes once again, "We'll talk about it in the morning."
End of chapter A/N: Hedwig lives. Sue me.