Chapter 10 – Kismet
A/N: A couple things. I made Hermione's alteration of her parents' memories permanent – it fit the storyline better. Also, I'd like to thank each and every one of you for reading, celebrating, writing, supporting, and creating these little magical worlds. These are tough times and fanfics are such a wonderful love language. -delphicpigeon
Hermione's eyes cracked open to the midday sun filtering through the window, motes of dust floating lazily in the air. Her body felt sore and stiff from the lumpy couch, but she was relieved to have slept through the night. She sat up quietly and noticed with a shiver that the fire had gone out. With a soft groan, she lifted herself off the couch and set about re-lighting the fire. Orange flames leapt to life and gave out a happy crackle. A whimper caught Hermione's attention and she turned to Malfoy's slumped form. He was still asleep, strands of platinum hair had fallen across his face and his mouth was pursed into a frown. He was dreaming, but it didn't appear to be a good one. Hermione crept closer and Malfoy twitched, struggling against whatever demons were haunting his mind. He let out another moan, a sheen of sweat breaking out across his pale features.
"Mother." He whispered, a rough edge to his voice.
Hermione stilled. Mrs. Malfoy would still be at Malfoy Manor. She felt a twinge of guilt and regret. Mrs. Malfoy had helped her, she supposed. Malfoy continued groaning in his sleep.
"Had to save her." He murmured, his brow creasing further, "My beloved."
Hermione twitched at his words. Was he referring to her? Malfoy began thrashing violently, fighting against the heavy blanket draped across him.
"Malfoy!" Hermione cried, "Wake up!"
She rushed forward and shook Malfoy's shoulder, yelling for him to wake up. His eyes snapped open and locked with hers. Hermione became acutely aware of how close her face was to his. She stumbled back. Malfoy looked around wildly and coughed, clearly confused at her proximity.
"What happened?" he questioned, suspicious.
"You were having a nightmare," Hermione responded awkwardly, "I was worried that you…might…well, you know, hurt yourself."
Hermione could have smacked herself in the face. Why was she being so awkward and weird? It was perfectly normal to wake someone when they were thrashing about and having a nightmare. She attempted to brush off the feeling and met Malfoy's bewildered expression.
"You were worried…" he echoed, an odd tone to his voice, "About me?"
She shrugged noncommittally. Trying to find anything that would get her out of this incredibly uncomfortable conservation, she looked around. Her eyes traveled to the kitchen, landing on a kettle. Perfect!
"I'll try to locate us some tea." She replied quickly, too quickly.
Malfoy snorted softly.
"Smooth exit Granger." He teased, "However, tea does sound fantastic."
Hermione cringed at his accurate observation of her behavior. She had been in the company of Gryffindors for much of her magical life, subtlety was not their strongest suit. She busied herself, preferring to think on the task of preparing tea. The kettle looked to be in usable condition and a tin on an upper shelf, thankfully, contained packets of tea. She turned on the faucet and filled the kettle. The water came out clear and cool. Hermione was extremely grateful this cottage wasn't too old for modern plumbing and the pipes were magically enchanted to prevent freezing. She blew the dust off the stove and set the kettle down while lighting a small fire with a flick of her finger. Hermione froze.
Wait a minute. How long had she been conjuring fire without a wand? Even more, how had she been doing magic this whole time without a wand!?
"Finally catching onto that little development, aren't we?" came Malfoy's amused voice.
Hermione turned around and narrowed her eyes at his smug expression.
"You aren't surprised." she accused, "How long have you noticed?"
"Since we got here." He answered simply.
Hermione was absolutely mystified. Sure, she could do a few wandless spells, but this was something else! She brought her hand to her temple, a headache quickly blooming. She looked up at Malfoy again.
"Before you ask," He spoke, holding up a hand, "I don't know much. I'll tell you everything I know after I've had a cup of this mediocre tea."
Hermione gave a curt nod of agreement. If he could explain what was happening to her, she could wait through a cup of tea.
Draco was amused. Granger was incredibly transparent. She had admitted to being concerned about his well-being and had, subsequently avoided his question like the plague. He watched as she set about preparing the kettle. She was still wearing the torn gray gown. Her hair was an absolute bird's nest of tangles, one side dented from sleep. He chuckled quietly to himself. She looked ridiculous. Although, he thought to himself, he probably didn't look so put together himself. He looked down and grimaced. Blood was crusted on his robes. He wondered if this place had a decent washroom. He heard Granger give a small gasp and when he looked up, he saw why. She had performed that odd brand of elemental wandless magic again, but this time, it appeared she had finally noticed.
Took her long enough, he thought with a mental sniff.
Granger's face was disturbingly pale once Draco finished recounting the events from Imbolc. She sat there gripping the teacup, its contents untouched. She stared stone-faced at the table, silent. Draco sat back and reached into his pocket, removing the beaded bag. He kept his mother's moonstone brooch tucked inside – it was none of Granger's business anyways.
"I believe this is yours." He remarked.
Granger's eyes flicked to the bag and slowly she reached forward and dragged it towards her.
"So, you are saying I'm some half ancient magical goddess," she reiterated, "And you are my c-consort?"
Draco only shrugged. He hadn't quite come to terms with the whole consort business. He didn't feel any particular magical connection to her. He hadn't seen the runes that glowed on his skin since the ritual and the actual ritual itself hadn't been completed. Granger huffed in exasperation.
"Well are you or are you not?" she scoffed.
"Snape did say 'What has started cannot be undone, but it is not final.' So," Draco pointed out, "Between that and the ritual being incomplete, I would assume I am not."
"I suppose that's true." She acknowledged, "But I still can't wrap my head around being some goddess. There's nothing special about me!"
She dropped her head into her hands and growled in frustration. Begrudgingly, Draco found himself irritated at Granger's self-depreciation. Self-sabotage was a trait he was well-acquainted with and he didn't want her to go down that same path.
"Stop that." he snapped, "Talking to yourself like that won't solve anything."
She peered up at him from beneath the curtain of curls. Draco sharply inhaled. Her eyes were ablaze with a storm of emotions. He swore he could almost see another set of eyes looking out from within Granger's own. He quickly shook the feeling and changed the subject.
"So, what's in that bag of yours?", he questioned, "I doubt my mother would have risked herself for a compact and other small trinkets."
"Oh, this bag is what kept me, Harry, and Ron alive on the run," she explained, "It has an Undetectable Extension Charm placed on it. I kept everything in here."
"I'm impressed Granger." Draco mused, "I thought the Ministry controlled all items with that particular charm?"
"The Ministry is a joke," she snapped, beginning to rummage through the bag.
"The Gryffindor Princess isn't quite so noble then?" he teased.
Granger briefly stopped her searching to stick her tongue out at Draco. He stifled a smile with a cough. That was the second time now that Granger had surprised him. First with her concern about his well-being earlier and secondly with her possession of illegal charms. Maybe the Gryffindors were a little more devious than he originally thought? Apparently, Draco thought to himself, his long-held notions were not as stable as they once were.
"I'll explore the rest of the cottage while you dig around." He remarked, "Hopefully you've got something useful in there."
She merely scoffed at his words and then winced, a loud crash emanating from the bag. Draco walked away, laughing under his breath. He decided to start with the door to the left of the fireplace. The door creaked open to reveal a simple but spacious bathroom. A white porcelain sink was perched below a dusty mirror. A toilet sat off to the side. A large window illuminated the room, the walls bare. Draco was pleased to see an overlarge clawfoot tub below the window. He walked over, hoping to Salazar that the hot water worked. He was in dire need of a bath. He turned the knob marked 'H' and waited. Soon, steam begin to rise, and Draco let his hand linger under the heat. Yes, he decided he would take a long, hot bath that evening. He turned off the water and resumed his exploration of the house. As he passed through the main room, he noticed Granger was partially obscured by a tower of books. No surprise there, he thought. Granger would have a mountain of books hidden in that bag.
"Found the bathroom." He called out, "Hot water works, thank Merlin."
Granger merely hummed in response, still lost in her task. He shook his head and headed for the stairs. They were narrow and appeared to be covered in a threadbare carpet. He climbed slowly, the stairs turning sharply. Roughly ten steps up, the second level revealed a hallway flanked with empty bookcases. A seat was built below a window, covered by a thick layer of dust. He snorted. Potter would choose a safe house with bookcases and a reading nook for her. He continued past the bookcases to a single door. Draco swore upon opening the door.
There was only one bed.
There was absolutely no way he was sleeping with Granger. He dreaded revealing that information to her. He turned around, slammed the door shut, and stomped down the stairs.
"I am going to strangle Potter." He barked, "That idiot put us in a house with a single bed."
Granger looked up from the large pile of items surrounding her, various items having joined the stack of books.
"We can just transfigure the couch into a bed. It's not that big a deal." She giggled.
Draco stopped in his tracks. He cursed himself for his outburst. He had been so concerned about potentially having to share a bed with Granger for a month that he had completely forgot there was a viable magical solution to the issue. He squinted at her in irritation. Damned know-it-all.
"Oh!" she squeaked out, surprise evident in her tone, "There is a letter for you in here."
Draco stepped forward, snatching the thick envelope from her, a crease appearing in his brow. He felt the air leave his lungs. He recognized the elegant, looping letters.
Mother.
Draco tore the letter open and began furiously reading.
Draco,
My most beloved son. If you are reading this letter, then it means you are safely away from this place. This structure ceased being our home long ago and I have been desperate to remove you from its grasp and expectations. I know you must have many questions and I shall attempt to provide what I can.
First, all of it is true. That witch is an ancient goddess. Unfortunately, the Dark Lord was able to figure it out and it was too late by the time I worked it out myself. Her ancient name is Cerridwen. I put all the texts regarding her from the Malfoy library I could find in this bag. Regrettably, due to the age of Cerridwen's legend, most of the texts are either incomplete or in an ancient language. I recommend translating these texts as quickly as possible to truly understand her full potential and how to use it your benefit.
Another disastrous side effect of this is that you will be chosen as her consort. I doubt the Dark Lord would be able to find a more suitable wizard for that role. This means you shall be bound to the witch that acts as a vessel for the Dark Goddess. The magic that flows within Cerridwen is raw and volatile – without a secondary magical core to share that power – the Granger witch will die. Cerridwen will consume her and without a form to tether her to our own plane, the consequences are unthinkable. How this is accomplished I do not know, nor do I know the implications of a created connection between you two.
Last and most importantly, the light and joy of my life, we shall be separated. Please do not blame yourself for this. I begged your godfather to save you. I planned this and I will gladly bear the burden of never seeing you again if it means you survive this war. Remember what I said: Protect her like you would protect me. Fate happens whether you want it or not. You are connected to her and just maybe, you can save our family and our world.
All my love,
Mother
Draco felt his world tilt. He staggered as his vision blurred, clutching the paper to his chest.
"Are you alright?" came Granger's alarmed voice.
"Leave me alone!" Draco thundered, sprinting towards the bathroom and slammed the door so violently the house shook.
"Wait!" she yelled after him, "Malfoy!"
Draco collapsed against the paneled wood of the door, sobs tearing from his throat. He forgot to cast a Silencio, but he refused to care. Let Granger hear his screams. Merlin knew, he had listened enough to hers. Knocks rang through the door and Draco denied answering them. Let her beat the door bloody.
His mother had known, and she let him go.
Draco couldn't land on a single emotion that described how he felt. Betrayal. Hurt. Anger. Loss. None of them fit right. Granger's pounding had lessened to small raps. Her voice thin through the solid wood.
"Leave me the hell alone, you stupid witch!" Draco roared,
He released another cry and heavy tears rolled down his face. He clenched his hands into fists and punched the ground until his knuckles bled. He was oddly grateful that Granger had enough common sense to remain quiet. His sobs turned to quiet, ragged breaths as the last of his feelings seeped out, just as the blood from his hands trickled onto the wooden floor.
"Malfoy?" her voice filtered through the door, close enough that Draco assumed she was sitting on the floor as well, "Was it from your mother?"
Damn that witch's intuition. He gave only a brief grunt in reply. Words failed him. He heard a forlorn sigh.
"I understand." She replied softly.
Draco barked out a laugh, sharp and cruel. Was she really trying to pander to his emotions now? If so, she was dumber than she looked.
"I know you don't think I could, but I do." She sighed, "I lost both of my parents…recently."
Draco balked at her revelation. Granger had lost both her mother and father. Draco could care less if Lucius were lost to him, only his mother had mattered. He could only imagine the pain of losing both at the same time. At least the loss of his father had been gradual. His distrust in Lucius had blossomed after the Chamber of Secrets incident. Draco still had no idea how someone could justify giving a piece of the Dark Lord's soul to an eleven-year old witch, especially with the wake of petrified bodies that had been left in her wake, and release a giant wizard-eating snake upon a school full of children. He winced at the memory.
"What-," he croaked, "What happened to them?"
His question was met with silence. He was about to repeat the question when she spoke.
"I permanently erased myself from their lives, gave them new names, and sent them to Australia." She continued, "That way, I knew they'd be safe from Death Eaters. They will never know they have a daughter who misses them terribly and I have to live with the guilt of knowing that I am responsible for it."
Draco closed his eyes, immediately regretting his question. He heard a quiet whimper and cursed the twinge of empathy that burned in his chest. Wincing, he reached up and turned the doorknob. Shifting out of the way, he let the door swing open while coming face to face with Granger. Her eyes were rimmed red with unshed tears. He cleared his voice and leveled his gaze on her.
"Sounds like we are both alone."