Greymoor Castle
"Severus, please...my boys—they've done nothing wrong."
Fred and George were chained to the wall behind them.
Ron was kept in a cell all his own. He was pale and weak, his eyes bruised, his jaw slack.
Molly was lying on the floor, reeling from the after effects of the cruciatus curse.
"Your sons aided Harry Potter—"
"It's not true!" Molly cried. "No one but Dumbledore knew—"
The door of the dimly lit dungeon swung open and Bellatrix Lestrange walked in.
She looked like she had just emerged from battle.
She wore a long, tattered black dress. It had blood stains on the sleeves and collar. Her hair was wild, her eyes bottomless pools of black, her fingernails were long and curling inwards.
"Have the blood traitors confessed?" she asked.
Snape dipped his head forward, bowing slightly. "They maintain their innocence. They claim they know nothing of Harry Potter or his whereabouts."
"Then you are not torturing them well enough."
She looked at the Weasley's with disgust, then dropped her voice to a whisper, raising an eyebrow at Snape. "It has been weeks, and still no word from Draco or his progress with the mudblood. The Dark Lord is losing patience, he will kill Narcissa—"
"I am certain Draco will make contact soon," Snape replied calmly.
"One of these pathetic fools is hiding something," Bellatrix said shrewdly, looking at the Weasley's. "And I will make them speak."
She walked towards them, and the heels of her boots echoed in the dungeon.
Snape stared at the dungeon walls.
The Dark Lord had tired of Malfoy Manor and seen fit to move his operation here...to Greymoor Castle—the macabre home of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange.
It did not surprise him.
The Dark Lord saw wealth as a tool to buy allies, weapons, and expand his army, not to indulge in expensive whims or fancies.
Malfoy Manor was too lavish, too comfortable.
And Voldemort felt more at home in the dark.
Snape's upper lip curled.
Nothing was as it appeared here. No door led to the same place twice, rooms flipped upside down as you walked through them, large spaces shrank at a moment's notice, spells rebounded and hit their casters…Greymoor Castle was the design of two mad architects...
Snape saw Molly attempt to stand, and he conjured ropes to restrain her.
Bellatrix walked between the Weasley twins, observing them closely.
She stroked Fred's cheek, her breath fanning his face. "This one's a bit more handsome than his twin, wouldn't you say Severus?"
"I hadn't noticed," Snape said dryly.
Bellatrix turned to Fred, smiling at him madly, her dress swishing around her ankles. "Perhaps you'd prefer more comfortable arrangements…upstairs….with me. All you have to do is tell me one, little, thing…"
Fred's jaw twitched. He looked at his brother. He knew he would pay for what he said next...but he didn't care.
"Ugly, isn't she, George?"
"Worse than a troll, Fred."
"No, I think more like a banshee—"
"Boys!" Molly hissed, terror in her eyes.
Fred leaned in close to Bellatrix. "Truth be told, I'd rather die mauled to death by some terrible beast than spend the night with the likes of you."
There were several seconds of dreadful silence.
"Well…" Bellatrix said, her smile still frozen in place, "fortunately, that can be arranged..." She looked at the small window above them. "There's a full moon tonight, you see?"
She laughed shrilly, turning to look at Ron.
The light from the window lit up his face and Molly and the twins waited with bated breath, dreading what was to come.
Nothing happened at first.
Then Ron doubled over in pain.
His chest rose and fell at an abnormally rapid rate.
He pounded his fists against the stone walls, trying to maintain control for a few moments longer...
But it was no use. He screamed in agony as his body started to change. Molly watched in horror as his bones snapped and lengthened, his limbs shook, his back hunched over…he made a terrible snarling noise…
Bellatrix turned to Fred.
"Perhaps you'd like to keep your brother company…in his cell."
"No!" Molly cried, hot tears spilling down her face.
Bellatrix spun to face her, livid with rage.
"WHY DO YOU WEEP, WHEN YOU ARE THE ONE WHO HAS WRONGED THE DARK LORD?!"
She turned to Snape."DO IT!"
Snaped flicked his wand and the chains binding Fred fell away.
The cell opened of its own accord.
Snape seized Fred by the neck, and the color drained from his face as he was thrust inside.
The door clanged shut.
Fred scrambled to the far corner of the cell. Ron was sprouting hair on his face and hands now, and his teeth were soon replaced by long, pointed jaws.
The sound of Bellatrix's laughter drowned out Molly's pleas.
George looked at his brothers in horror, realizing what would happen if Fred remained trapped in a cell with Ron. He twisted left and right, trying to free himself from his chains.
Bellatrix walked forward. She rested her arms against the bars of the cell. She ran her tongue along her lower lip, anticipating the smell of blood.
"Tell me, Molly," Bellatrix said without looking behind her. "Was it worth sacrificing the life of your sons, to love Potter as one of your own?"
Fred watched as Bellatrix reached inside her cloak. She pulled out her favorite dagger. She spun the pointed weapon in her hand, then tossed it to him.
He looked up at her, confused.
Her eyes gleamed with excitement. "I want you to have a fair fight you see…in this duel of brother against brother."
Bellatrix turned to Molly and a wicked smile distorted her features. "I do believe one of your sons will die tonight."
"The situation in Britain is deteriorating," Nikola told Hermione, as the Dragomir docked in the seaside city of San Sebastián. "The Order reports Voldemort has found a new way to bend the laws of magic."
"How?" Hermione asked, aghast.
Draco was standing next to them, looking over the railing. It was old news to him, but he gathered the Order had finally proven their competence and discovered something useful.
"Voldemort can extinguish a wizard's magic. He targets any who are against him. The curse upsets the connection of wizard and wand, wand and core. He replaces himself as the core, and the wand's loyalty is to him. But that is only the start. Loss of the wand's loyalty only serves to subdue the witch or wizard until—"
Nikola paused, trying to find the words to explain. "Over time, the magic you have vithin you, in your blood…becomes less and less, until there is nothing left of your abilities. And vunce your magic is gone, it can never be returned."
Draco raised an eyebrow, so he didn't know everything. He thought the curse ended with the control of a witch or wizard's wand...
Nikola spoke again. "However, it seems Voldemort struggles with striking large groups of wizards at one time with the curse. There was a battle in the Isle of Skye. The Magical Alliance suffered great losses. A quarter of their army couldn't perform magic. Many of them died, and the few who survived vill never perform magic again. They vill live as muggles for the rest of their lives."
"A quarter of their army?" Hermione repeated, disbelieving.
Nikola nodded. "Voldemort hasn't perfected the curse, but if he finds a way...it will be catastrophic. The crew and I vill wait for you here, while you go on to Segovia. We need the Arévalos to join us now more than ever. We need to stop Voldemort before he perfects the curse. Our agent in Segovia, Calatrava, is waiting for you. He will host you in his home and take you to the Arévalos."
Hermione nodded. Segovia was over a hundred miles away from the coast.
She and Draco would need to apparate. Nikola suggested they take a portkey instead, in the event that Voldemort and his network of spies attempted to trace them.
But Hermione refused to take a portkey. The last time Harry had taken a portkey, he was transported to a graveyard and Cedric had died.
Hermione doubted Voldemort could locate them. The ministry had fallen, and while the trace was still on them, their movements could only be monitored in Britain. If nothing else, Dumbledore had explained as much to her before she agreed to take part in the mission.
Hermione packed her clothes, throwing them into a rucksack, and disembarked from the ship with Malfoy. They walked a good distance away from the port, and then, when there were no muggles nearby, they clasped hands and disappeared into thin air.
The sun was setting in the centuries old town of Segovia.
Hermione and Draco found themselves standing in front of an old gothic cathedral in the town square.
The air was rife with ancient magic. The weather was warm, and the heavy clothes the Bulgarians had given them seemed out of place here, suffocating them.
"We look ridiculous," Draco muttered under his breath, taking note of the odd looks people were giving them.
There was hardly anyone left in the square. Just a few stragglers headed home.
They waited an hour before a man appeared wearing a heavy, black cloak.
The town square was empty now, and complete darkness had fallen.
Draco reached for his wand, but Hermione seized his arm.
"Wait, I think it's—"
The man stepped closer. He was thin and balding. He had thick eyebrows, an aquiline nose, and dark eyes.
"Señorita Granger?" he asked, in a thick Spanish accent.
Hermione nodded.
He dipped his head. "I am Mr. Calatrava. Your host."
"It's nice to meet you," Hermione said. She turned to Draco. "This is my—my friend, Draco Malfoy."
"You must follow me," said Calatrava, motioning for them to follow him. "It is not wise to speak outside, where wandering ears can hear. How are we to know what lurks in the shadows?"
Draco turned to Hermione as they walked down the cobblestoned streets.
"Are you sure this man will help us?"
"He's the Order's agent in Spain," Hermione whispered. "Nikola said he lived in England for a time…working for Dumbledore."
"Yes, but what if he's working for the Arévalos now? I've heard stories about them, they're ruthle—"
"Shh," Hermione hissed, afraid Calatrava would hear.
They stopped in front of an old house made of stone with a high pointed roof.
Mr. Calatrava flicked his wand and the door swung open. They followed him inside.
"Your bedrooms are upstairs. I've also taken the liberty of buying you new clothes."
He looked at their heavy Bulgarian coats. "The weather is not so cold here."
Behind him was a kitchen and a dining room. There was a cauldron bubbling over a fire, and a table set for three.
"We're not very hungry," said Draco.
Hermione turned to him. "We should eat something."
"It is not poisoned, I can assure you," said Calatrava dryly, looking at Draco through narrowed eyes.
He looked away, realizing the old wizard had overheard them.
Calatrava gestured to the table.
Draco and Hermione pulled out chairs, sitting opposite from each other.
Calatrava served dinner, then sat at the head of the table.
He poured a glass of red wine for each of them, then turned to Hermione.
"The Arévalos have been informed of your presence. Their leader, Sebastián, has agreed to meet with you at the old Alcazar palace. He is organizing a masque in your honor."
"A masque?" Hermione repeated in disbelief. "That's—that's completely unnecessary. There's a war going on, this isn't the time for—for—celebrations," she finished lamely.
"Unfortunately, Ms. Granger, you will have to attend," Calatrava replied. "It is the way things are done here."
Draco raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
"When?" Hermione asked.
"Tomorrow, at nightfall."
"Well I have nothing suitable to wear for such an event," she said pointedly, as if that would release her from the predicament.
"I have taken care of that," said Calatrava patiently. "Everything you need is in your room."
"We look forward to the masque," Draco said calmly, hoping the conversation would turn to Potter.
"We?" Calatrava asked. "I am afraid you are mistaken, Mr. Malfoy. The Arévalos requested to meet the Señorita Granger alone."
Draco shook his head. "That's out of the question."
"The terms are non-negotiable," said Calatrava. "The Arévalos were very clear. It is fortunate for us they have agreed to meet at all."
"It's fine," Hermione interrupted, turning to Draco. "Maybe after I've spoken with them—"
Draco's eyes narrowed. "What assurances do we have, that they won't harm her?"
"We don't," said Calatrava. "I am only a messenger," he added, taking note of the murderous look Draco was giving him.
"How was Harry Potter, when you saw him last?"
Calatrava didn't flinch. "Tired, but well. Determined." He turned to Hermione. "He spoke much of you, Señorita Granger. I can see why he valued you."
"You speak in the past tense," Malfoy said. "As if he's no longer—"
"Draco!" Hermione warned.
"I speak in the past tense because I have not seen Mr. Potter in weeks," Calatrava said simply. "That is all."
The Spaniard drained the last of his wine before leaning forward.
"Working for the Order puts me at risk with the Arévalos. Their tempers, loyalties and passions can change in an instant."
He turned to Hermione. "They are fickle. You will have to charm and enchant them, especially their leader, Sebastián. Many of them are hundreds of years old. They've seen it all…countless rebellions, plagues and wars." He paused. "We may be wizards, but we are mortal. The Arévalos will still be here, long after we're gone. You need to make them see how this war is different from the others..."
Calatrava cleared his throat before going on. "It is already a good sign that Sebastián has taken an interest in you. Maybe that was—is the work of Mr. Potter. The Arévalos won't want to hear talk of strategy or morality. They want to be entertained. And for some reason they find you intriguing. You are, after all, considered the greatest witch of your age."
Hermione's breath caught. Dumbledore had only ever told her that. She did not know he'd said the same to others. It seemed he had created a reputation for her abroad.
Draco raised an eyebrow, he did not like the sound of this at all.
But Hermione looked determined, focused.
"Thank you, Mr. Calatrava for your hospitality and your advice."
He nodded at her, raising his glass. "To your success, Ms. Granger."
Hermione went upstairs. Draco stayed below, arguing with Calatrava. She heard their muffled voices through her closed door. She opened her rucksack, pulling out the book from the Founder's Chambers. She glanced down at the cover, and traced her fingers over the words that had formed there: Hogwarts, A True History.
It was clear that the book preserved important moments that had occurred at Hogwarts. And Hermione was sure that it held more secrets, like the vision she'd had during the battle...someone had attacked the castle during the time of the Founders...
Draco had asked her to leave the book aboard the Dragomir, but she couldn't...
It's cursed, he'd said. It distracts you. It'll get you killed…
Hermione flipped through the book. It was empty again, and no ink appeared on its pages.
She sighed, then changed into her night clothes and climbed into bed, stuffing the book under her pillow so Draco wouldn't see.
Her thoughts drifted to the Arévalos, and moments later her eyes closed and everything faded away…
But she was not falling asleep.
Instead, she was falling into the past, once more…
Hermione walked down a dark, deserted corridor. Something told her she was at Hogwarts, but nothing looked as she remembered it.
She waited for her eyes to adjust in the dark, then she heard the sound of laughter.
There was a young couple kissing in an alcove. Students, Hermione guessed, out after hours.
"Charles quiet, or we'll wake the castle," said the girl.
"Don't worry, no one will find us here. Anne, I promise, it's just the two of us."
Their clothes looked like they were from another time. The girl was wearing a beautiful dress made of velvet, with long, billowing sleeves. She wore a headdress embroidered with pink flowers, and the boy wore a tunic embellished with gold thread.
Hermione took in her surroundings. Everything looked new. There were hardly any portraits on the walls. There was scaffolding, unfinished corridors, half-constructed stairs….
The castle looked like a blank canvas waiting to be filled.
Excitement flooded through her veins. Perhaps now she would see what had happened all those years ago…in the times of the Founders.
There was the distant sound of shouting.
"Did you hear that?" the girl asked.
"Shh," the boy replied, kissing her neck. "Probably the muggle servants arguing again—"
There was a bloodcurdling scream.
The young couple froze.
"Pleeeease!" shouted a distant voice.
It sounded like a fight had broken out downstairs.
The young couple ran across the corridor and leaned over a balustrade.
"Oh my god," Anne whispered.
Students had been dragged from their beds.
A group of men were threatening them, armed with swords.
One of the girls tried to run away, but a man held her back. He plunged his sword into her stomach.
Anne screamed in horror. Charles covered her mouth with his hand.
"Quiet," he hissed. "Or they'll come after us next."
"Why aren't they fighting back?" Anne whispered, looking down at the students. "They're wands—"
"Don't you see? This is a rebellion. Those men aren't wizards, they're muggles. Our very own servants. They stole their wands in the middle of the night. And now they're sacking the place."
The men were taking chests of galleons from the rooms, along with other precious items. Others were setting fire to curtains and beds.
"We have to get out of the castle," said Charles.
They ran in the opposite direction, and fled down a corridor, stopping in front of a large tapestry.
Charles yanked it aside and they rushed down a set of stairs. They emerged into a corridor, but the young couple screamed when someone came flying at them.
"Mary?" Anne asked, horrified.
A girl in blood-stained clothes had latched onto her arm.
"The muggle servants, they took our wands while we slept. I couldn't stop them…"
"Where are your sisters?"
The young girl turned to look behind her. A door was left ajar.
Anne and Charles hurried towards it, pulling it open.
Anne felt bile rise in her throat. There were two girls lying in their beds, their necks slashed, blood spilling onto the sheets.
"You managed to escape?" Charles asked, turning to the younger girl. "Did they hurt you?"
She shook her head. "I think they're after the Founders."
The walls shook violently. A large battering ram had struck the front doors of the castle.
The three teenagers stood stock still.
"The villagers," said Charles. "They want us dead too."
Anne's blood ran cold. She suspected the muggles had bided their time, planning the attack for months.
"We should go up to one of the towers," she said. "We can fly—"
Charles shook his head. "They'll have sentries there, waiting for us. They know every passage, every entrance. There's only two of us with wands."
Anne struggled to breathe, trying to think…
Charles spoke again. "Stay inside and barricade the door. If anyone tries to get in, stun them, or kill them if you have to."
Anne's eyes went wide with fear. "Charles, don't leave me here."
"I need to find the headmasters."
He moved towards the door.
"Charles, no!"
He shut the door behind him and made his way back to the hidden passage.
He tore up the steps and almost lost his footing when he crashed into someone.
"Charles!"
"Beldon!"
Charles seized the boy's shoulders, grateful he had run into a fellow student, and not one of the rebels.
"Do you still have your wand?"
"Yes, I never went to bed."
"We have to move, come on."
They made their way up the stairs, then Charles shouted, "Watch out!"
They were attacked by a group of five men. The tallest of them swung his sword at Beldon.
He jumped back and raised his wand.
The boys shot stunning spells and curses, killing two of their attackers.
As soon as they were free, they ran in the opposite direction.
Hermione followed them through countless corridors and secret passages, until finally, they reached the seventh floor.
A wizard rushed towards them. He had olive skin and thick, black hair.
"Sir! Sir!" Shouted Beldon.
"Do you still have your wands?"
"Yes, sir."
"Follow me."
The man walked past a painting of a golden unicorn, and opened a set of large, oak doors.
Hermione recognized the room. It was furnished now with lavish tapestries, tables and chests.
But much of the furniture in the Founder's Chambers had been turned over, plates of gold and jewelry lay scattered all over the floor...
A woman was gripping onto the arm of a chair, struggling to stand.
"They tried to sack the place," she said. "They took us by surprise, but I cursed a good number of them before they—"
She doubled over and coughed up blood. She was badly wounded.
Hermione realized this was the aftermath of the vision she'd seen at Hogwarts weeks ago, when she, Draco, and the others had tried to escape. Men had burst through the oak door, carrying torches, intent on killing…
"Salazar," the woman said, clutching onto his robes. "Where were you?"
Hermine looked closely at the man again. Salazar Slytherin. She hadn't recognized him at first. All the portraits at Hogwarts showed him in his later years. He looked no older than thirty now.
"I've only just arrived from Aberdeen, Godric is still there, trying to negotiate with the clans. There's been another uprising. Where is Rowena?"
"They took her, dragged her away…"
Salazar helped the woman stand, and the light from the candlesticks lit up her face. Hermione recognized her now too.
Helga spoke again. "They took my wand…they've killed so many…"
Slytherin stared at the witch, realizing she would die if her wounds weren't tended to. But he didn't have the time to heal her. If he stayed by her side, the situation outside would only get worse...
He made a decision, handing Helga his wand.
"Take care of yourself. I'm going to put an end to this."
The witch's eyes widened. "You can't go out unarmed."
Salazar pulled a sword from the suit of armor behind him. "I don't need a wand to stop this madness."
He nodded to Charles and Beldon who were waiting by the door. They followed him, flanking his sides.
They hurried down the corridor until they reached the balustrade that looked down to the entrance hall below.
Salazar extended his arms.
The boys exchanged glances, hesitating, but they swallowed their fear and took hold of his wrists.
Hermione gasped as Salazar and the boys shot high into the air.
They were flying, or rather Salazar was flying and pulling the boys along with him.
They floated for a moment, then dropped down slowly.
Hermione looked over the railing. They were floating down to the entrance hall, their cloaks billowing out behind them.
Suddenly, an invisible force lifted her up too.
Hermione was forcibly reminded of Cho and she panicked. Her legs flailed around her and her heart beat violently as she caught a glimpse of the ground below.
She reminded herself that this was only a memory. She could not fall to her death, could she?
Students were dueling with whatever they could find, attacking the muggles with swords and spears they'd taken from the suits of armor…some of the older students and staff were fighting back with wandless magic…
In the middle of the chaos stood a man in a hooded cloak.
He was holding a sword. Rowena Ravenclaw lay at his feet, her clothes drenched with blood...
"Rowena!" shouted Salazar, as his feet hit solid ground.
Charles and Beldon landed behind him. They blasted curses left and right, hitting several muggles, making way for Salazar amidst the battle.
He rushed at the hooded man.
"Stop there!" the man warned. "Or I'll finish her!"
Salazar shook with fury. "WE TOOK YOU IN! WE TRUSTED YOU!" He looked down at Rowena."IF SHE DIES—"
"You care for her so deeply," said the hooded man. "And yet, she does not not love you."
Salazar brandished his sword.
Hermione moved back, watching the two men circle each other, Rowena's body lying between them.
"Her loyalty is to Godric. Everyone knows it but you. She will never look at you as she looks at him. But your soul can be saved. Leave this life of sin and wickedness. Be as you were before Salazar."
"You are deluded if you think you hold any sway over me," said Salazar. "My debt to you was paid long ago. And you care nothing for my soul."
The muggle man did not waver. "Then you will burn in hell."
They heard screams. Several of the muggles had been blasted back by a powerful curse.
Hermione spun around.
A tall wizard with a long, brown beard had stormed through the front doors of the castle.
The students gasped. "It's Godric...he's back..."
The tall wizard trained his wand upon the hooded man.
"Kill this traitor, Slytherin! What are you waiting for?! If you don't do it, I will!"
The hooded man laughed mirthlessly, turning to Salazar. "Slytherin…is that truly the name you've fashioned for yourself? Are you so ashamed of your true origins, of your real family? Salazar…always the liar, always the coward…"
And suddenly Hermione saw everything from Salazar's point of view. She felt rage course through her veins as she seized the hooded man's cloak, dragging him forward. Her hands closed around his neck.
She spoke, trapped within Salazar's body. "You're the only coward I see here. All my life, you've been a snake…dripping poison into my ear…but no more…"
The hood fell from the man's face, but just as his countenance was revealed, Hermione's vision swam, and the entrance hall faded away. Her hands were still seizing someone, but it was not the hooded man…
She was screaming.
Malfoy stared down at Hermione.
The color had drained from her face. Her eyes were wide. She looked possessed.
Draco winced as she put her lips to his ear, her voice a low hiss. "You betrayed me, but you will not ruin me, or provoke the death of my friends."
Draco's blood chilled. The feeling left his body. She had discovered him. She knew he was working for Voldemort.
He heard footsteps on the stairs, and realized Calatrava was coming up.
His heart accelerated, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Founder's book stuffed under Hermione's pillow. It took a few seconds for his brain to make the connection. Slowly, painfully, he drew in a long, shaky breath. She had fallen into the past again. She was not speaking to him, but to someone else...
The door flew open. Calatrava stood at the entrance.
He saw Hermione writhing, and Draco struggling to calm her.
"She's had a bad dream," Malfoy said quickly. "She'll be fine."
Hermione's voice trembled as she came to. "I'm sorry Draco," she said, loosening her hold on his neck. "I thought—I thought you were someone else…"
Calatrava raised an eyebrow. "She cannot make such a display in front of the Arévalos. Perhaps we should postpone—"
"She will be ready," Draco insisted. "It was only a bad dream. Leave us."
Calatrava hesitated by the door, then closed it.
"I thought I told you to leave the book on the Dragomir," Draco hissed.
"It's too important," Hermione said. "I couldn't leave it behind."
"What did you see?"
Hermione shook her head, she was too exhausted to explain now.
Draco crawled into bed next to her, pulling her close, murmuring soothing words into her ear.
Hermione cried into his chest, muttering an apology for having attacked him.
Draco stroked her back, lost in thought.
He had to get rid of the book. So far the blasted thing had unveiled events that had happened decades or centuries ago. But what if it showed the recent past?
What if it let Hermione witness the conversations he'd had with Pansy and Theo at Hogwarts? Or all the evenings he'd spent writing coded letters to his father?
No, he couldn't allow that...
He had to ensure the book was gone by morning.
Hermione had the unmistakable feeling she was chasing ghosts. Catherine….the Founders…even Harry. She began to wonder if he was still alive. She had no clear answers, only more questions. She was sure everything she'd learned was connected somehow, but the strain of going over it in her mind, time and time again, was destroying her.
She didn't rise from bed the whole night or the following day.
She woke just before nightfall, in time to meet the Arévalos.
Her eyes were still closed, but she reached up behind her, trying to feel for the book…wanting to find answers in its pages.
A hand closed on her wrist and her eyes shot open.
"Vampires have a heightened sense of awareness, Hermione. They can taste your fear, your panic, your dread. You can't let them in."
Her eyes adjusted in the dark and she saw Draco lying next to her.
"I know," she said, looking into his face.
"Keep your mind on the present. Stop going off to wherever it is you go. Be here with me…now…"
Draco's lips closed over hers and he kissed her softly. She welcomed his touch, knowing that he would keep her nightmares at bay.
Draco leaned over her, letting his hand slide along her thigh, pushing her nightdress up.
Hermione glanced at the door. "Calatrava…he'll hear us…"
"Who cares," he said thickly.
Draco lifted her dress as high as it would go and trailed kisses down her bare stomach.
Hermione's eyes glazed over, and she thought that maybe she should stop him, tell him what she'd seen in the book. He didn't understand how important it was. Maybe he could help her figure it out…
Draco's lips trailed down her body, then he ran his tongue along her inner thigh, and her legs trembled slightly.
She swallowed, closing her eyes.
"Draco," she said, weakly. "I—"
She gasped as she felt his head drop between her legs. She reached down, threading her fingers into his hair. She bit down on her lip, trying to remember what she wanted to tell him…
A jolt of pleasure shot through her…
Her eyes flew open and she stared up at the ceiling, watching the way the shadows moved across the room.
She struggled to breathe, trying to ride the wave of pleasure so she could find her words again. But she never did.
Her eyes lost focus and her mind went blank.
Draco watched Hermione unravel...
He knew he could make her forget her precious book.
Hermione gazed up at the Alcazar of Segovia. Malfoy and Calatrava stood on either side of her.
She was dressed in a long, elegant, midnight blue ball gown.
The air was warm. The castle was perched on a huge bedrock. It had slate roofs and blue-gray turrets that shone in the moonlight. The front of the castle was shaped like the bow of a ship.
She recognized it all too well. It was the palace she'd seen in her dreams all those months ago. And it was always the same dream. Harry looking down into a well…Harry moving down a set of dark stairs, beckoning her to follow him…Harry attacked by a figure in the dark, struck by Voldemort's new killing curse…
She always asked herself the same question. Had she seen the past? Was Harry already dead? Or had she seen the future? Or maybe it was just a dream…or maybe someone was tampering with her mind, torturing her bit by bit, until she lost her sense of reality…
"Let me go with you," Malfoy insisted.
Calatrava glared at him. "For the last time, she must go alone."
Hermione turned to Draco. "I brought you to Segovia to help me, not to make things more difficult."
Draco pulled her closer to him. "You have one hour. If you don't emerge in one hour, I'm—"
"An hour's not nearly enough. You have to trust me. I'll be fine."
Draco wrapped his arms around Hermione. "Be careful," he whispered into her ear. "Remember everything I told you. The Arévalos play endless games, and they'll start from the moment you enter those doors."
Hermione broke away from Draco and faced the Alcazar once more. She squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin. She had to appear bold and confident, charming and alluring. Provocative even.
She was prepared to play her part...
The Alcazar doors opened of their own accord, and Hermione entered the castle alone.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Reviews highly appreciated! I hope you enjoyed this new chapter :)