ABOARD THE DRAGOMIR
Hermione heard the muted rumble of the ocean, the creaking of wood, and the gentle hum of magic that powered the Dragomir forward. She opened her eyes. There was a red canopy above her. She drew back the curtains, and looked around. She blinked suddenly, her face illuminated by a dancing blue light...the water reflected from the porthole of her cabin.
She guessed they were several feet below sea level.
She wondered how many days they had left before they made it to the French coast of Étretat.
Hermione looked down at her bed. It was intricately carved and made of a fine polished mahogany. Across from the bed was a desk, and a velvet chair. There was a symbol of a red dragon on the back of the chair, set against gold cloth, and the words Dragomir were emblazoned on the top.
Gold brackets hung on the paneled walls, holding long, thin tapers…the flames were burning low. She had no idea when they had last been lit.
Just above the desk was a gilded mirror.
Hermione's reflection stared back at her…pale and wild-haired. She looked down at her arms. Her cuts had been healed. It felt like she had been asleep for days. But even so, her head throbbed and it hurt to move.
She vaguely remembered someone pulling her from the deck…but after that everything had gone black.
Hermione scratched at her collar. She was dressed in a white nightgown, but she didn't remember putting it on.
And where was her wand?
Hermione swung her legs over the edge of the bed and forced herself up.
She grasped onto the bedpost to steady herself, her legs shaking slightly.
She searched frantically for her wand, hoping it hadn't been stolen or lost.
What if she'd dropped it in the lake?
Minutes later, her heart quieted when she saw it lying on a nightstand in the far corner of the room.
She searched the cabin for her clothes and found them folded on top of a heavy wooden chest. But there was something sticking out of her folded trousers.
Hermione pulled out a wet, soggy letter and was suddenly hit by a vivid memory of Fawkes.
He had dropped the letter into her lap in the middle of the battle.
She turned it over and found Dumbledore's seal.
Hermione climbed back into bed, the letter in hand.
"Lumos," she whispered.
She tore open the seal. She expected the ink to have run, the pages to be ruined by her swim in the lake, but the writing remained intact.
Impermeable ink, she guessed.
Dumbledore had written the letter in code. Her heart quickened, maybe he had seen fit to reveal more of his plans before he died.
Her eyes scanned the contents, but she was soon disappointed.
There was no lengthy message, no final words of advice or even a goodbye.
Just an address and a date.
Rue Duquesnoy 5, 1000 Bruxelles
September 3rd
There was an illustration of two doves at the bottom of the address.
It took her a few minutes before she worked out the meaning.
Her parents. He had moved her parents two days after she'd returned to Hogwarts. They were safe…in Brussels apparently.
She clutched the letter to her chest. At least they were out of harm's way. But resentment slowly began to build inside of her. Dumbledore had told her next to nothing about his plans—only that Harry was in Spain, but he hadn't said what he was doing there or how she was supposed to help him.
She heard muted voices in the corridor outside, and wondered where Ginny and Draco were. Maybe she should ask for them? But she wasn't ready to rejoin the world—not yet.
The pain in her head was blinding.
She remembered she'd been hit by something in the Founders Chambers, and that's when her visions had started. Her visions of the past…
But no…it wasn't the blow to her head that had provoked the visions. It was that book…that book that had been walled away. She had touched its pages and the entire room had spun violently.
The book! She had tucked it under her arm on their way out of the Founders Chambers. But then—what had happened to it?!
She didn't remember. With a sinking feeling she realized she must have dropped it. She looked around the cabin. It definitely wasn't here.
Hermione covered her face with her hands. She was sure that book was tied to everything somehow—to Voldemort and his plans. When she touched it—she hadn't hallucinated, those visions were real glimpses into the past, to the times of the Founders.
She remembered the women clad in medieval gowns, running away from the muggles with torches…
Hermione shut her eyes, if she remembered that, she remembered other things. Cho falling, Seamus screaming, Rookwood hovering above her…Dumbledore burning. She shut her mind tight. She was not prepared to relive any of it.
But there was one memory she could not ignore.
Above all, Dumbledore's final words to Voldemort were at the forefront of her mind.
"Catherine lives and she's closer than you know."
Catherine lives.
Who was Catherine? And why had Voldemort reacted with such fury at the mention of her name?
But there had been more than fury in his eyes…there had been pain.
And that Hermione thought, was the most disconcerting thing of all.
She pulled the covers up to her chin, and let the gentle rocking of the ship lull her back to sleep, Dumbledore's letter still clutched in her hand.
Hours later there was a sharp knock at her door. Hermione opened her eyes, her whole body tense. She half expected sunlight to shine in from the windows, but then she remembered they were underwater.
She clambered out of bed and grabbed her wand. She opened her door a crack and peered outside.
There was a boy of sixteen standing in the corridor. He was dressed in heavy furs. He had a round face, a double chin, and a tentative smile. His robes were stretched tight over his sizable stomach, the buttons threatening to fly off with every breath he took.
"Yes?" Hermione asked.
"My name is Valko. I am here to escort you. The captain vould like to see you now."
Hermione frowned at him, confused. Then she looked down at her nightdress. "I'm not prepared, I don't have anything to w—"
"In the chest you vill find everything you need. I vill vait outside."
"Wait," Hermione said.
Valko nodded at her. "Yes?"
"How long have we been at sea?"
"Three days."
She had been asleep for three days?
Valko spoke again. "Our healer saw to your wounds and gave you a sleeping draft. You screamed in your sleep the first two nights. You ver—most disturbed."
Hermione gave him an odd look, and he explained further.
"I've been guarding your cabin. But you look much better now," he said hastily.
"Were we followed?" Hermione asked. "Is everyone alright? My friends—"
"Ms. Granger, you are safe now and so are your friends. We are here to protect you. Aboard the Dragomir no von can touch you."
Valko shut the cabin door, and Hermione stared dumbfounded at it.
After a few moments she rushed to the wooden chest at the foot of her bed and found a long woolen dress, stockings and a pair of boots. She pulled them on quickly and followed Valko into the corridor.
On the outside the Dragomir was enchanted to resemble a wreck. It had a skeletal look, a quarterdeck and forecastle, square rigging and two masts. The dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes.
Hermione guessed it was meant to confuse muggle divers in the unfortunate event that they encountered the vessel. But inside it was as magnificent as a palace. The passages were covered in fine paintings, gold leaf decorated the walls, and silk drapes hung across arched windows that looked out into the ocean. Every so often she saw fairy dust, and wood was suddenly polished, the windows sparkled clean. The fairies were too tiny to see, but she knew they were there, taking delight in making the ship glow with magic.
It was the only ship of its kind, a breach of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, but no government had seen fit to call it into question.
And thank Merlin for that, Hermione thought, as she followed Valko down another passage. How else would she have gotten the first and second years out of Hogwarts?
But Hermione stared at the opulence with hollow eyes. She was fully aware that she was aboard a lavishly decorated ship, while her friends were fighting for their lives back home. It didn't seem right or fair.
Hermione made a mental note to ask about the fairies later, wondering if they received the same treatment that the house elves did back home.
Something told her they did.
Hermione huffed indignantly and quickened her pace.
She followed Valko until they came upon a large ornate door.
"Wait here," he said.
Valko went inside. She heard him greet someone, then he conversed with two others.
Hermione strained to hear, but they were speaking in Bulgarian.
She paced in front of the door, feeling uneasy, and just when she was about to knock, Valko reappeared.
"You may enter," he said, holding the door open for her.
She walked into a lavish study that looked out onto the ocean. The captain had his back turned to them, staring out the windows. A beagle pup with bright blue eyes lay at his feet.
"Captain," said Valko tentatively. "Hermione Granger is here to see you."
The captain turned and took off his cap. A wave of long auburn curls fell out of it. Instead of the rugged face Hermione expected, she was met with the opposite: a delicate face with arched eyebrows, a long, pointed nose and full red lips.
Hermione gasped.
The captain was a woman, and much to her surprise she looked no older than twenty-three.
"Hello Ms. Granger. My name is Nikola Rostov. I'm glad to see you. The Order tells me you are a highly skilled witch. Although I'm afraid your judgement leaves much to be desired."
She looked over Hermione's shoulder.
Hermione spun around.
Draco was seated on a wooden chair, ropes tied around his arms. There were two members of the crew standing on either side of him.
Nikola laughed a deep laugh. She was a beautiful woman with refined features, but her voice was not mild or subdued. It projected across the room with a strength and firmness that made everyone stand to attention.
"Miroslav, Krasimir, don't you think Mr. Malfoy has quite a handsome face?" Nikola asked, addressing the crew members. "Why don't we roughen it up a bit. Give it more character?"
She tossed each of them a blade, then sat in a large high backed chair by the window. The bugle pup hurried to her side and sat at her feet. He barked at Draco, his long ears swinging back and forth as he did so.
"Silence Konstantin, my darling," she said, patting his head gently. She waved at Miroslav and Krasimir. "Go on then, carve away."
"No!" Hermione shouted. "You're making a mistake."
"Durmstang's last headmaster, Karkaroff had a questionable reputation, Ms. Granger. You vill understand that we cannot be linked to anyone who sympathizes with the Dark Lord. We must make an example of Mr. Malfoy."
Konstantin barked approvingly, raising a small white paw. His round belly quivered with each bark.
"He's not loyal to Voldemort!" Hermione exclaimed.
"He wears the Dark Mark on his arm. I ask myself, why vould you Ms. Granger, bring a Death Eater on board this ship?"
Hermione's mouth opened and closed, her brain trying to string together a response that would make sense to the Bulgarians.
Nikola stood. Hermione stepped backwards as she inched closer to her. Eventually, she was forced to slump into the chair next to Draco's. Ropes appeared out of thin air and tied around her wrists too.
Hermione realized this is how it would always be. She would always have to explain Draco. No one would ever accept them as they were. A boy and a girl trying to stay alive. He was a Malfoy, a Death Eater, and she was Harry Potter's best friend. A hero and a traitor with an unlikely alliance.
Nikola raised an eyebrow at her. "When we re-surface, all Mr. Malfoy has to do is tap his vand to the Dark Mark and Voldemort will know our exact location. He can attack us before we ever reach shore."
Hermione bristled. "Malfoy had several opportunities to take me prisoner during the Battle of Hogwarts and he did not do so. He saved me, more than once."
Draco cleared his throat calmly, and looked at Nikola lazily, as if his life were not hanging in the balance. "As I told you earlier, Captain, my loyalty is to the Order and the Magical Alliance. Surely you can see that. You must have some semblance of intellect if you were asked to captain a ship so young. But then again, maybe Durmstrang lowered its standards with you."
Hermione looked at Draco in disbelief. His arrogance would cost him his life...and her life too if he wasn't careful.
Konstantin barked at him, offended, but Nikola didn't take the bait.
Instead, she reached for a tray sitting on the desk behind her. She handed Draco a glass of wine.
He couldn't see it or smell it, but he was sure it was laced with Veritaserum.
"Let us toast to your grand escape," Nikola said, smiling, reaching for a second glass and lifting it to her lips.
Draco tipped the glass back. He kept his face blank. He did not panic. He swallowed slowly, tasting the wine.
Nikola looked at him with an unwavering stare. Konstantin lay at her feet and cocked his head to one side, staring at Draco curiously. His large eyes sparkled with mischief.
"A bit too sour for my taste," Draco said arrogantly, looking at his glass with distaste. "You see, I'm used to much higher quality."
Nikola ignored him and leaned forward. "Finish it."
It was an order, not a request.
Malfoy drank every last drop of wine, and he smiled into Nikola's face as he did so.
"Is your name Draco Malfoy?" she asked.
"Yes," he said, adopting a flat, emotionless voice.
"And your parents are…?"
"Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy."
Hermione leaned forward, realizing that Nikola had altered his drink.
"Did you run avay from your father's home?"
The potion wanted to force the truth out, it was yanking the words up into his throat and pushing them through his lips. He forced them down, biting hard on his lip.
Immediately, he heard his father's voice in his head.
Your body will urge you to give the obvious answer, but you must fight the impulse. You must think clearly enough to rephrase the question to yourself. That way you give the inquisitor the answer he or she wants to hear, and it…in some way…will be true.
Draco forced himself to think. Technically, he had run from the house to the charmed car that took him to King's Cross every year, so he could indeed say that he had run away from home. At least, in the literal sense—he had run from the front door to the car—although it was because he was running late, not because he planned to leave home forever. But Nikola didn't need to know that.
"Yes," Draco said, in the same flat, emotionless voice. "I ran away from home."
"Are you loyal to the Dark Lord?"
It took every restraint for Draco to keep his mouth shut. Was he loyal to the Dark Lord? Outwardly, it appeared so. But in truth, he was loyal to his family. Whatever dirty work he did for Voldemort was not of his choosing. He was more a prisoner than a loyal follower.
"No, I am not loyal to the Dark Lord."
Nikola's eyes narrowed as she formed her next question. "And did you, at any time…"
Draco's stomach clenched. He braced himself, preparing for the worst.
"…pass information to your father in the days before the battle?"
The knot in Draco's stomach loosened. She almost had him there. Had she said "weeks" and not "days" he would have been forced to tell her every time he'd sent owls back home.
"No, I didn't."
Nikola eyed him suspiciously, preparing a final question.
"Are you in love with Ms. Granger?"
That, he was not expecting. Panic rose within him, and he was unable to focus on distancing himself from his emotions. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead. It was as if an invisible anchor was hooked to his mouth, prying it open, forcing out the truth. A reply formed…it was on the verge of falling from his lips—
"That's enough," said Hermione, angrily. She cast a silencing charm on Draco before he could answer.
The words died in his throat.
Nikola laughed. "Aren't you curious, Ms. Granger? Mr. Malfoy may have changed loyalties, but perhaps he is just using you to get to safety? Don't you wish to know?"
Hermione slammed her fist down. "I said, that's enough. Surely, there are more important things for us to discuss than Draco's personal feelings."
"Indeed," said Nikola dryly, looking at Hermione appraisingly.
Hermione glared at her. "How long until we arrive at Étretat?" she asked, steering the conversation away from Draco.
Nikola raised an eyebrow. "We cannot re-surface until Voldemort is engaged in battle once more. There are rumors that the allies vill attack Voldemort's forces again in a week's time. Once he is occupied, he is less likely to find us."
Hermione frowned. "And if he discovers we fled to Étretat, regardless?"
"The danger lies in the journey, Ms. Granger. But once we arrive, we are safe. Étretat is sacred land. Once the students set foot on its soil, they cannot be touched." She looked pointedly at Draco. "The devil may not enter. You von't be able to enter, nor anyone else with that mark."
Nikola waved Valko forward.
"You may remove him now."
"What would you like us to do with him, Captain?"
"He may roam about the ship freely, but vatch him closely, if he steps out of line his wand is mine."
Valko and the other two crew members led Draco out of the study, leaving Hermione alone with Nikola.
"After we deliver the students to Étretat, we can leave your friend, Mr. Malfoy where he likes. Then we vill sail on to Spain to meet Mr. Potter."
Yes, Hermione thought. It would be best for Draco to go his own way. There was a weight in her chest at the thought of their separation, but she couldn't think about that now, there were other matters to attend to.
Nikola spoke again. "I assume Dumbledore discussed the details of Harry's mission in Spain."
Hermione shook her head. "Dumbledore never told me what Harry was doing there or how I can help him."
"I see, he left that to me then, I'm afraid," Nikola replied. She drained the last of the wine from her glass.
"You know?" Hermione asked.
She nodded, and leaned forward. "Have you heard the name Arévalo Ms. Granger?"
Hermione nodded slowly. "They're the oldest vampire family in Spain."
Nikola refilled her wine glass with a tap of her wand and went on.
"Voldemort does not have many vampires in his army. The few that he enlisted are those that ver exiled from their covens or disgraced. No vampire in good standing deigns to help a wizard. We hoped Mr. Potter would change that when it came to the Arévalo coven. No other vampires hold their kind of power. Be assured, Ms. Granger, we cannot win the war without them. The Magical Alliance alone will not be enough."
Hermione frowned. "But vampires have long hated wizards. Voldemort tried to recruit them in the last war, and they refused him."
"Mr. Potter met with the Spanish vampires some time ago. He contacted us at the end of last week. It seemed they were close to reaching some kind of understanding, but then we lost communication."
Hermione gripped the arm of her chair.
"We had an agent in Spain that assisted Mr. Potter—a Mr. Calatrava. Potter was to have a final meeting with the vampires and relay the information to him. But Calatrava never heard from Potter again. He sent owls to the Arévalo's meeting place with letters inquiring after Harry, but he never received a reply. Instead, the vampires drained the owls of blood and delivered them on his doorstep."
Hermione's mouth dropped open in shock. "Are you telling me you don't know where Harry is?"
Nikola shifted uncomfortably, her cool exterior faltering. "At the moment….no."
"What would the Arévalo's want with him? They wouldn't think to—"
Hermione couldn't bring herself to say the words.
Nikola answered for her.
"Vampires vould never turn a wizard. It is not in their interest to make us more powerful. The few times in history it has happened—the product of sordid love affairs—the vampire vas punished most severely by his coven, and the wizard or witch murdered."
Hermione nodded."But they would consider killing Harry or keeping him prisoner for their own gain?"
Nikola nodded, then drained the last of her wine before continuing.
"Before we lost communication, Potter told us the Arévalo's had certain demands. The oldest, Sebastián, wanted to meet with someone before he agreed to an alliance."
"Who?" Hermione asked, curious.
Nikola raised an eyebrow. "He wanted to meet with you."
"With me?!" Hermione exclaimed. "But why? I've never even been to Spain—"
"We ver hoping you vould be able to tell us."
Hermione shook her head. "I have absolutely no idea."
"Harry vould meet with the Arévalo's in Segovia, in the old Alcazar palace. As far as we know they never took him to their true home."
Hermione's blood ran cold. So she was expected to meet with dangerous and unpredictable vampires, with no guarantee to her safety. And Nikola as well as the Order had no idea where Harry was.
"Sebastián promised you'd remain unharmed, although the word of a vampire—"
"Is not to be trusted," Hermione finished.
"The choice is yours Ms. Granger, you may stay in Étretat where your safety can be assured. Or you can sail on to Spain."
Hermione breathed in deeply. At once she knew she couldn't hide in Étretat with her arms crossed. Not when so many people had died and many more were in peril.
"I'll go," she said. "I'll sail on with you to Spain."
Nikola nodded.
"My advice, Ms. Granger, keep Mr. Malfoy out of your plans. He is handsome and clever, but I knew his father and I doubt his interests are anything but selfish."
Hermione glared at her. "If that's all, I think I'll go."
Nikola nodded. "Goodbye Ms. Granger."
The ropes binding Hermione loosened and fell away.
She rose to leave, but then froze at the door.
"Has the Order obtained any intelligence on the Weasley family? Arthur and Molly Weasley, or their son Ronald?"
Nikola hesitated a moment before answering. "No," she said. "We haff heard nothing."
"Thank you Captain," Hermione replied curtly, then made to exit the study.
There was a loud bark from behind her. Konstantin had gotten to his feet and was staring at her intently.
Nikola smiled. "He likes you, he vishes you to say goodbye before you leave."
Hermione's eyes widened. She approached Konstantin with caution then knelt down to pat his head. He licked her hand vigorously.
"You may look after him today," Nikola said. "A valk around the deck vould do him good, and you're in need of company."
Hermione stared at her with a mixture of amusement and confusion, but she picked up Konstantin and carried him away.
Hermione wanted to dislike Nikola Rostov, but later found that she couldn't. As the day transpired Hermione observed her closely. She admired her strength and character, her unwavering command of the ship and her camaraderie with the crew. She was extremely knowledgeable, and she hardly ever strayed from her convictions.
But there was one matter Nikola was mistaken about, and that was Draco…of that Hermione was sure.
Dinner was a quiet affair.
The dining room was as elaborate as the rest of the ship, with a low-hanging chandelier, high-backed chairs and a plush red carpet.
The students ate quietly. The horror of the battle was still fresh in their minds, and most of them felt like they were on borrowed time, not quite believing they'd made it out of Hogwarts alive.
Every so often, sudden movements or loud noises from the crew made them jump.
Hermione was sitting next to Ginny. She didn't speak much and she stared down at the table, looking at it but not really seeing anything.
Moments later, a sprinkle of gold dust fell in front of them and landed on the plates, filling them with food.
The fairies again, Hermione thought.
There were many Bulgarian specialties including cold Tarator soup made of yogurt, cucumbers, garlic, and olive oil. There were also platters of fish and veal, stuffed peppers and potatoes.
Everyone began eating, and the sound of cutlery filled the room.
Konstantin chased Crookshanks around the table. The two had entered into a duel of sorts the minute Hermione had introduced them.
"I had a dream about Ron," Ginny said suddenly. "But he wasn't right, he wasn't exactly…human."
Hermione looked at her in surprise, her fork suspended in mid-air. She didn't think she'd get a single word out of Ginny tonight.
"What do you mean?" she asked carefully.
"It's hard to describe, but I just knew he wasn't himself."
"Ginny I'm sure it was just a nightmare. We're bound to have them after everything that's happened."
Ginny lifted her spoon, and plunged it into her bowl of Tarator soup. "It didn't feel that way to me. It felt like…a vision."
Hermione's blood chilled. She nodded, but thought it best not to push the subject further.
Ginny drank her soup, making a face at the strange taste.
Hermione looked around the dining room. There was no sign of Draco. She wondered where he'd gone off to. Surely, Nikola hadn't locked him in his cabin?
"I'm not that hungry," Ginny abruptly said. "Can we go?"
"At least finish your soup first," Hermione replied, piling veal and potatoes onto her plate. She had no idea when she'd had her last meal, or if she'd been given anything when she was unconscious.
She ate quickly and urged Ginny to do the same. She had to find Draco.
Malfoy paced the deck of the ship. It had taken the last of his nerve to keep his head together in front of Nikola Rostov. He was starting to panic, thinking of his mother held captive in Edevane's power. Over time the wizard had become Voldemort's right-hand man and he was a ruthless killer.
How long until his mother cracked under the torture? Draco's blood boiled every time he remembered Rookwood's words: "The Dark Lord sent your mother prisoner, didn't he Draco? To an old friend who longed to see her. I hear Edevane's had his first taste of her."
He didn't think she'd be able to endure that kind of pain.
He closed his eyes, trying to block the thoughts that were surfacing.
He had a vivid memory from his childhood—a memory of the last time his mother was in grave danger.
He was five and they were both walking through the gardens of the manor. He noticed that she was wearing her favorite pale pink shoes, and she stepped carefully, trying not to flatten the flowers around them.
She'd had a terrible fight with his father the night before. She had emerged from his study with a broken wrist and a bruised eye. The elves had taken him to his room, and he wasn't allowed to see her again until the next day.
She asked him to pick a few roses for her, then take them inside the drawing room when he was done.
She left his side and returned to the manor.
Draco took his time to search for the prettiest roses he could find. He knew his mum was low in spirits and he wanted to see her smile again.
An hour later he searched for her in the drawing room, roses in hand, but she wasn't there. He checked the study next but to no avail. He finally went up the long spiral staircase that led to her room, a feeling of foreboding growing inside his chest. He reached the second floor landing and walked to the room at the end of the corridor. He reached up for the handle and opened the door. Draco walked to the center of the room then jumped. Something had brushed his shoulder.
He spun around. His mother's pale pink shoes were dangling in front of his face. He looked up, there was a noose hanging around her neck, and her mouth was open in a silent scream.
She hung from the ceiling, kicking her feet, on the verge of losing consciousness.
He had screamed for Dobby, screamed for Dobby until his voice grew hoarse. The elf appeared inside the room with a pop, freezing with terror at the sight in front of him.
"DOBBY HELP HER! HELP HER!"
With a snap of Dobby's finger, the rope split in half and his mother fell to the ground.
His father and the family healer had been called home immediately.
His mum had nearly lost her life, and it was months before she was herself again.
Draco breathed in deeply. What if she tried the same thing again? What if in her desperation—
He snapped back to reality when he heard movement. He looked over his shoulder. Granger was walking towards him.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, stiffening, his back suddenly ramrod straight.
"I didn't see you at dinner…" Hermione started. "I—I wanted to make sure you were alright."
Hermione approached Malfoy cautiously.
He looked wrecked. His eyes were suspiciously red and his face was paler than usual.
He laughed bitterly. "I suspect none of us will be alright for a very long time, Granger."
She observed him closely, remembering that his mother was in danger.
"Why did Voldemort take your mother prisoner?" she asked softly. "At Hogwarts I heard Rookwood say she was given to a wizard named Edevane."
Draco's jaw twitched.
Because I haven't gotten any information out of you, he thought to himself bitterly.
Instead he said, "I suppose it's my punishment, for running away and not fulfilling my duties as a Death Eater."
"Edevane, who is he exactly?" Hermione pressed. "An old enemy of your family's?"
"It's more complicated than that," Draco said.
Hermione looked at him expectantly, waiting to hear more.
Draco sighed. "My mother was betrothed to Edevane in her youth, but the day of their wedding she ran away and eloped with my father. At the time my father wasn't a wealthy wizard, and my grandfather disapproved of him. He had arranged for my mother to marry Edevane instead, but he was twenty years her senior and she hated him. Edevane's been biding his time all these years, waiting for revenge."
Hermione gazed at him fearfully. "You mean—"
"He'll have his way with her, humiliate her—" Draco looked tortured, his fists clenched. "You know what I mean by humiliate?"
Hermione's blood chilled, and she was forcibly reminded of Rookwood, the leering look in his eyes and the greedy way he had touched her.
Draco lost control of himself, unable to contain his anger any longer. "I shouldn't have left!" he shouted.
He kicked the railing of the ship and looked around wildly.
His eyes fell on a set of heavy crates lying at the end of the deck.
He decided to unleash his fury on them.
"Draco, no!"
He took out his wand and blasted the crates in front of him, sending some flying into the air then back down again. Bits of wood went flying everywhere.
Hermione yelped as bits of wood nicked her skin.
"Draco stop!"
Malfoy's vision blurred. He was crying in front of Hermione Granger. He was supposed to make her fall in love with him, and instead he was winning her pity. Pathetic.
"The crew will lock you away!"
"What do you care?!" he shouted.
She tried to reach for his arm but he threw it off.
"Just go away," he whispered.
He slumped down onto the deck. Hermione knelt beside him.
"I'm sorry," she said, tears falling down her face. "I'm sorry about your mother. It's not right—"
She tried to reach for him again, and this time he let her.
"My father won't save her. His plans with Voldemort are too—"
He had to stop there, if he went on talking, he wouldn't be able to stop. He had to complete his mission. Hermione could never know the truth.
"You could have stayed and fought," Hermione replied. "But then maybe you'd be dead. And how would you help your mother then?"
"There are things worse than death, Granger," Malfoy said, thinking of how eventually he'd have to betray her.
There was a loud sound, and they both looked up.
A large blue whale was swimming above them, and the magical orb that acted as a barrier trembled slightly. They held their breath as it moved past, in awe of its enormous size.
"I wonder where we are?" Hermione said slowly. "Nikola didn't say."
Draco smirked at her and reached inside his robes. He pulled out a looking scope. "I pilfered this from one of the crew. Care to take a look?"
"Will that work down here?" Hermione asked in amazement.
Draco nodded.
They stood and Draco handed the miniature looking scope to Hermione. She looked into the lens, and it was as if someone had strapped a jet-pack to her back. She was zooming up through the water towards the surface of the ocean, then to the sky above. The stars looked beautiful. There was no obscurement charm here.
She felt Draco move behind her, and soon his hands were on her arms guiding her.
She swallowed, her nerves on edge at their sudden closeness.
"Look just over there. You see that constellation?"
Hermione nodded, recognizing Cassiopeia.
"The North Star is on the opposite side."
He moved her to the left. "Just there."
The constellation's seven stars shone brightly, and they were so vivid, Hermione felt she could reach out and touch them.
Draco spoke again. "My guess is we're not far from Étretat. But you heard Nikola, we'll remain hidden until it's safe."
Hermione turned to face Draco. His gray eyes were observing her intently.
"And you Granger?" he asked. "Are you feeling alright?
"What do you mean?" she replied.
"In the battle you were hallucinating. I'm not sure exactly what you saw—"
"I wasn't hallucinating," Hermione said quickly. "When I touched that book—the one one that we found in the Founder's Chambers—I was able to see the past. If I could just see it one more time, maybe I could figure out—"
"I have it," Draco said.
Hermione's mouth fell open in shock. "What?!"
"You dropped the book on the way out of the chambers. I picked it up and hid it in my robes. It's completely drenched now from our swim in the lake, but if you want, I can give it to you."
Hermione nodded eagerly at him. "Yes—I can't believe you have it."
Draco placed his hand on her shoulder. "I'll stop by your cabin later. But right now Granger, I need some time alone."
The pain in his eyes had not receded, it lingered there…threatening to resurface.
Hermione nodded, feeling a little hurt that he didn't want her around, but excited at the prospect of seeing the book again. "I understand. I'll see you later tonight."
Hermione hung onto the wall for support as she walked back to her cabin. The floor tilted sideways, and she struggled for balance. She assumed they were caught in turbulent waters. The rush of the ocean was louder than ever, and she began to feel uneasy, wishing they could rise to the surface and see the sky again.
There was a surprise waiting for her when she got back to her cabin.
A silver tray holding a glass of wine and a slice of strawberry cake sat on her desk. The fairies, no doubt. She had been in such a rush to leave the dining room, she hadn't bothered with desert.
Hermione ate, then checked in on Ginny. She was fast asleep a few cabins down, Konstantin and Crookshanks curled up at her feet.
Hermione returned to her cabin and waited for Draco. An hour passed and he didn't show. Tired, she kicked off her boots and removed her stockings. She rested her chin on her hand, deciding she'd give him another few minutes.
Two hours later, she nearly fell asleep at her desk. She figured he wasn't coming. She changed into her nightgown and went to bed.
A few minutes later she was about to drift off to sleep, when there was a loud knock at the door. She stumbled towards it, hoping it wasn't Valko announcing some kind emergency.
She threw open the door, rubbing her eyes and yawning. Draco stared back at her, his eyebrows raised.
He looked her up and down, taking in her appearance.
Hermione turned red, she'd forgotten she was in her nightgown and nothing else.
Literally nothing else.
Draco could see every detail of her body through the thin cotton.
She hurried back into the room, and found a sweater in the wooden chest by her bed. She quickly pulled it around herself, avoiding Draco's gaze the whole time.
"I thought you weren't coming," she said over her shoulder.
"Should I go?" he asked.
"No," she said, closing the wooden chest firmly.
"I have the book," he said when she returned to the door.
"Right, come in."
Draco walked into her cabin and sat on the chair in front of her desk.
Hermione sat opposite him on the edge of her bed.
Draco looked at her carefully. His delay had been intentional. He knew tonight he had to seal her trust in him regardless of their past, and he had been preparing himself to do so, trying to sober up from the grief that had weakened him earlier.
He pulled the book from his robes and handed it to her. Its pages were wrinkled, damaged from their near-death experience in the lake.
"At the battle its pages were blank, just like now. After you touched it…you started seeing things—things that weren't there."
"I wasn't hallucinating," said Hermione defensively. "I'm sure of it."
She thought for a moment.
"In the Founder's Chambers there was a test we had to pass before we were let in. There was an inscription written on the entrance: "Only united can the truth be discovered. Three minds alike. Three minds enlightened."
Hermione tapped a finger to her chin, thinking...
"Three minds..." she said. "I suppose it refers to three founders. Maybe Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor? Salazar left the school before the chambers were sealed off. I don't think he took part in the enchantments that were cast."
Draco nodded. "That makes sense. I visited the Founders Chambers in second year with Pansy and Goyle. We were trying to find the Heir of Slytherin. I think we were let in because we weren't looking for this book, or the jewels that were hidden in that pillar. But of course, the secrets weren't revealed to us because our aim was to help Slytherin. We only had his interests in mind and not the interests of the other founders."
Draco paused for a moment, lost in thought. "But when you, Pansy and Everley went it was different. You were all there for selfless reasons. You and Pansy wanted to rescue me, and Everley wanted to find his brother. The secrets were revealed because you didn't want to use them. And the final test. Valuable pieces of silver and jewels fell from the pillar, and you chose a book, the most ordinary of all. That's probably why we made out alive and weren't trapped inside."
Except it wasn't an ordinary book, Hermione thought. It had let her see into the past.
She changed the subject, sensing Draco wouldn't believe her visions were real no matter how vividly she described them.
"Do you know anyone by the name of Catherine?" she asked. "Someone Voldemort may have known in the past? Dumbledore's last words to him were: 'Catherine lives, and she's closer than you know.' "
Draco shook his head. "No, my father mentioned Voldemort worked in Knockturn Alley after he graduated Hogwarts. Then he disappeared for ten years."
"And at Hogwarts?" Hermione pressed. "Was there a Catherine in Slytherin?"
Draco frowned at her. "You think he was involved with her?"
Hermione nodded. "He had his sights set on climbing. Maybe she was a wealthy witch, a fellow student."
Draco shrugged. "Anyone who was friends with Tom Riddle then, would fiercely deny it after he came to power. They would have destroyed any letters. That was my grandfather's time, not my father's. I never met my grandparents on either side, they died before I was born. But I hear from Theo's grandmum, Tom Riddle had a way of making you feel like you were part of his inner circle...but it was all an illusion." Draco took a breath. "He was friends with everyone…but at the same time, friends with no one. After he graduated, no one heard from him for years. He was like a living ghost."
Hermione shook her head. "Surely Hogwarts had records of his classes, prefect duties, events of the year, photographs."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "I hear the headmasters did away with photographs and such things over time. They only kept the most basic information—that he was a brilliant student while he was at school, never a toe out of line. Theo's grandmum mentioned he attended a few dances, but according to her, he never had a serious relationship with any girl."
Hermione chewed her lip. "There has to be a way to find out more about his days at Hogwarts. Or information on his first months back in Britain."
Draco shook his head. "When Voldemort came back to Britain he was completely transformed. At first people didn't realize he and Tom Riddle were the same person. The only people he contacted became Death Eaters and they weren't going to talk. Many of the original Death Eaters died in the first war. The papers called them the Original Seven, his friends from school. I suspect he killed most of them. They didn't die at the hands of the Order like he led his followers to believe. Voldemort didn't want anyone to know about his past, and they were a liability."
Hermione wondered if Draco's grandfather had been one of the original seven. She thought it best not to ask.
They were both silent for a few moments, realizing they had reached a dead end.
Draco opened his mouth, then closed it again.
"What is it?" Hermione asked.
It was now or never, he thought.
"Granger, the only way to save my mother is to defeat Voldemort. I want to help you. I want to help Potter. I'm willing to do whatever it takes."
Hermione's breath caught in her throat. "What do you mean?"
"You, Potter and Weasley are always at the forefront of everything. I know Dumbledore entrusted you with something. You don't have to tell me what it is, but if there's any way I can help, I need to, for my mother. Do you understand?"
Hermione nodded slowly.
It looked like Draco wanted to say something more, but he was having trouble working up the nerve.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Why did you stop me from answering earlier?"
"Answering what?" Hermione asked.
"Nikola's question. When she asked how I felt about you."
Malfoy took her hand in his, and ran his thumb along her palm.
"Draco I—"
"Shh," he said, leaning forward.
"I think it's best if we keep our heads clear," Hermione said quickly. "She pulled her hand away. "We don't need to complicate things between us, not with everything that's going on."
If he wasn't working for Voldemort he might have listened to her—left her room, tried to forget her. But his life wasn't his own anymore. He couldn't do what was right or sensible. He had to spin her into his web, seduce her, until she gave in.
Was she a virgin? It didn't seem fair that her first time would be with someone like him, a liar trying to use and manipulate her. But he supposed it didn't matter. He pushed his guilty feelings down. He'd have to do it either way.
Hermione stood and Draco did the same.
"Thank you for bringing the book," she said.
"That's not why I came," he replied. "And you know it."
Hermione swallowed, her heart thundering in her chest. She hated feeling this way. Nervous, afraid and uneasy whenever he looked at her with that intensity. And that's what Draco did to her—he made her lose control and question herself.
"You should go," she insisted.
The ship rocked dangerously and Draco crashed forward into her. The lights from the candlesticks flickered and she gripped onto his arms to keep from falling.
"I—I'm sorry," she said.
Draco snaked his arm around her waist, pressing her chest against his. He looked down at her lips.
"Well, goodnight then," he said.
"Goodnight," she whispered, but it sounded more like a question.
He tore himself away from her. He would not be the one to beg. If not tonight it would be another night. There was fire in her eyes. Of that he was sure.
Draco turned to go, almost at the cabin door when she spoke again.
"I don't want you to leave," she said, her voice trembling.
He inhaled sharply.
At last, the words he wanted to hear.
He was at Hermione's side again in two quick strides.
Without asking for permission he moved her in front of the candlelight, and tugged at her sweater until it slipped off, falling at her feet.
He admired the outline of her body, the way the nightgown fell against her curves.
She was perfect.
The ship rocked again and they fell into each other, landing on the bed behind them.
Hermione's eyes widened. Draco's hands were everywhere, his breathing frenzied.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. There was a fire in her belly. She knew she shouldn't be doing this...but she didn't care.
The weight of Draco on top of her, his silky hair through her fingers, the buttons of his trousers digging into her skin, all made her tremble with a need for more.
She didn't know how far she wanted to go, all she knew was that she wanted Draco touching her, kissing her…
Impatiently, she pulled his shirt over his head.
She marveled at the broadness of his shoulders. She ran her hands down his back, feeling the scars from Romena's lashings. She remembered Pansy had touched them, and she became angry, angry that he'd been with any girl before her.
She bit down on his lip, and Draco swore loudly.
He hitched her leg and wrapped it around his waist. His tongue pressed against hers, his mouth devouring her, then he took her hands and pinned them above her head.
Hermione didn't know if she was ready for this...fear mixed with excitement coursed through her body, clouding her thoughts...
Draco tilted Hermione's chin up. She looked into his eyes. There was something in those grey eyes other than lust, something that tortured him…
Hermione became very still, afraid of what he'd say. Draco kissed her eyelids gently.
"One day Granger…you'll tell me three little words."
Her heart seemed to freeze in her chest. How could he possibly expect—she could never say it. And even if she did, they could never be together—not in the way he wanted.
On instinct, she arched her back, pressing her chest to his again. She ran her hands down his stomach, trying to distract him.
"Your dreaming, Malfoy," she challenged, running her tongue along his ear.
She didn't recognize herself as she moved underneath him, pushing her hips up to meet his, teasing him.
Draco trembled, losing control. He pressed his body hard against Hermione's, his grip on her leg firm.
"Am I?" he whispered, angry that she was using her body as a weapon against him, refusing to acknowledge the weight of his words. But if that's what she wanted…fine.
He pulled on the ribbons of her nightgown with his teeth, pausing to kiss her breasts.
Hermione gripped her pillow tightly, her mouth falling open, a moan escaping her lips.
She shivered as Draco's hands traveled down to her stomach, then to her waist...then lower, much lower…
She cried out.
They wanted to forget the war, the battle, everything about that horrible night—their pain and guilt for surviving when so many had died.
For several minutes there was only the sound of their labored breathing, the creaking and groaning of the ship…
Draco was about to remove her nightgown completely when there was a knock at the door. They both froze.
Reality came crashing down on Hermione like a large pile of rocks.
"Don't get it, " Draco hissed, his lips on her neck.
Hermione pushed him away and reached for her sweater, her cheeks flaming. She had lost control...things had gone too far…
She tied the ribbons of her nightgown, then picked up her sweater and wrapped it around herself.
Draco stood, following her to the door as she yanked it open.
Valko was on the other side, and his eyes narrowed when he saw Draco standing behind Hermione.
"There's a storm coming. We haff to resurface earlier than scheduled. Brace yourselves, this von't be a smooth passage. The captain is asking everyone to meet in the dining hall."
"What about the magical barrier?" Draco asked. "Isn't it able to withstand this sort of thing?"
Valko nodded. "Yes, but Voldemort veakened it significantly when we escaped Britain. We must rise to the surface now. We can't take any chances or ve'll be buried by sand and rock."
The ship swayed again, and Valko fell backwards into the corridor.
Hermione and Draco hung onto the doorframe of the cabin, their feet sliding.
"Hurry," Valko warned. He regained his balance and gripped the paneled wall for support, then hurried down the corridor to warn the next cabin, the floor tilting ominously below him.
"I have to find Ginny," Hermione told Draco.
The ship lurched, and she and Draco fell backwards, hitting the ground with a loud thud. An invisible wind snuffed the flames out from the candlesticks above them.
"Wait here," Malfoy said through the darkness. "I'll get Ginny."
Hermione nodded.
As Draco left, his arm pushed against the nightstand, and the book from the Founder's Chambers dropped to the floor.
Its pages flipped open but there was no wind.
Ink appeared on one of the pages, revealing a date.
June, 1945
Hermione frowned, there was something oddly familiar about that date.
Then it hit her.
That was the year Tom Riddle had graduated. Hermione had expected the pages to turn further back in time, to the days of the Founders.
She hesitated. Should she wait for Draco to come back?
But what if this was her only chance? If she waited, the book might seal itself again.
She stretched her hand towards it. There was no telling what would happen when she touched its pages…
There was a flash of light and Hermione screamed. She was yanked forward by an invisible hook, a loud wind howling all around her.
Moments later the volume snapped shut, and the cabin was empty. Thin, slanted words appeared on the cover of the book:
Hogwarts, A True History.
UPDATE: New chapter will be posted on 11/2
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Reviews highly appreciated! See you next time!