"Draco!"
"Hermione!"
The Slytherin was running, trapped in a maze with walls of black onyx, sound echoing strangely and light seeming to seep into the walls or reflect unnaturally. "Draco, where are you?"
"I'm coming!" he shouted, his voice hoarse, his breathing labored. He'd been running for hours, days, weeks, stuck in this black maze, trying to find Hermione's voice.
"You're close, Draco, I can feel it!" she called out, her voice ricocheting all around.
Just as Draco was about to collapse from the exertion, he rounded a corner and saw her; lip bleeding, head bloodied, bruised beyond all belief, but there. "Hermione," he breathed, slowing and walking up to her. "I thought I'd never find you! I -"
Suddenly Draco stopped. Hermione seemed strange…two dimensional….separate. "Draco?" she whispered, holding her palm flat up in front of her. "Draco, don't leave me."
"I won't leave you," he assured her, restarting his approach cautiously. "I promised that I'd never leave you, remember?"
Hermione nodded, tears seeping out the corners of her eyes. "Then don't come any closer," she breathed, barely audible.
His heart lurching, Draco stopped. Before his eyes, he watched Hermione ripple – ripple? – and come back into clarity. She's behind something, he thought, confused. But I can see right through it….it's like a partition, or a veil…..oh no. Merlin no.
Clearing the last few feet between them in one short bound, Draco stopped just in front of a shimmering barely-perceptible veil, similar to the one from the Department of Mysteries that he'd seen in his father's memories. "No," he murmured, holding his hand out in front of him to almost touch the barrier that separated him from Hermione, the living from the dead. "You can't be dead, 'Mione, you can't be…."
She was silent, her brown eyes staring mournfully into his blue ones.
"Talk to me Hermione," Draco begged, resisting the urge to pound his fist against the shimmering barrier. "Say something!" His heart hammered in his chest as he watched her tilt her head, her expression sad.
Finally, after the silence had stretched for a seemingly infinite moment, Hermione sighed. "Goodbye Draco," she said, and she turned away.
"No!" Draco shouted, tempted to take his chances and jump through the barrier to follow her receding form. "Hermione, come back!"
Draco sprang awake, immediately transitioning from deep sleep into consciousness. His sheets were a tangled mess, half kicked off the bed and half wrapped around his legs, his body covered in sweat. It was just a dream Draco, he assured himself, sitting up and putting his head in his hands. Just a dream…
Knowing that sleep would elude him for the rest of the night – if not forever – Draco stood up and threw on a hoodie over his bare chest, keeping his black pajama pants on. He padded out of his room, out of the dorm, and down the stairs, his destination clearly in his mind. When he reached the Black Lake, seemingly bottomless due to the still-black sky above him, Draco discarded his hoodie and leapt into the frigid waters, welcoming their blackness.
Cold water covered every inch of Draco's skin, enveloping him in a freezing wet blanket , jolting life into his pores. Bubbles surrounded him in a white cloud, and when they cleared the dark, murky waters of the Black Lake came into view. Not really knowing why, Draco began swimming forwards, barely ever needing to pause to breathe; he felt incredibly strong, unstoppable, pounding the water with every iota of strength he had in order to gain headway in the frigid liquid. Where am I even going? he thought, mildly puzzled by his own determination.
Suddenly, out of the black waters, Draco caught a flash of red. Red? His brain whirred incomprehensibly. Draco pushed himself towards the colour, watching the shape grow closer and closer with every stroke he took. Only a few strokes away, he realized that the shape was Hermione.
Wearing the red bathing suit that she'd used that one day by the lake, her hair floating behind her gracefully, Draco could almost believe that Hermione was swimming in the Black Lake with him. In a moment of painful reality, however, Draco's brain said quietly, This is a waking dream, blondie, and Draco's hopes fell slightly. But still, real or not, if she's here….
Floating towards the majestic swimmer, her skin glistening even in the dark of the lake, Draco reached towards the wonderful illusion. To his surprise, Hermione looked back. Impossibly, she smiled at him and said, "Hello Draco," before reaching out her hand.
Draco took it, following her lead as she pulled him in close, wrapping her arms around his bare waist, tracing over the thick scars on his forearms. "Hermione," Draco whispered, his dialogue causing bubbles to leap from his mouth and race each other to the surface. Water filled his lungs, and he had to surface to cough and take another deep breath. Diving back into the lake, he floated into Hermione's waiting embrace.
She placed a finger on his lips and shook her head. "Don't talk," she said, her words not releasing any air.
Of course she doesn't create bubbles, Draco, she's not real, he criticized himself, frustrated, running his hand along her bare shoulder and caressing the exposed skin. How can she not be real when she feels this real? How is she not here with me?!
"Draco," Hermione said, her eyes wide and pleading. "Find me, please."
About to say, "I'm trying!" Draco was silenced by Hermione's lips over his. Just as cool and magical as they were in his imaginings the previous day, the blonde closed his eyes and pulled her in closer, tangling his fingers in her hair. His lungs were burning, but he refused to give into his mortal, weak needs. No. I could stay here forever, he vowed, his lips tracing patterns on Hermione's cheeks and face.
When he was forced to pull away and breathe, Draco felt empty, isolated. Entirely alone above the dark lake. When he opened he eyes and ducked back under the water, he saw that Hermione was floating backwards, down and out of his reach. Fruitlessly swimming after her, Draco met her sad eyes – a replica of the expression she had worn the day before – and watched her say, "Please," before the waters of the Black Lake swallowed her whole.
Feeling like his heart had just been ripped from his chest, Draco surfaced once more. Anguish filling his entire being, a red rage clouding his mind and vision, and he let out a loud, pain-filled yell that echoed around the deserted school grounds. Flipping himself onto his back so that he could see the moonless sky, Draco allowed tears to fall from his eyes and mingle with the unsalted waters of the Scottish lake. Losing himself in thoughts of Hermione, he barely even noticed that he had floated all the way back to the shore until his head collided sharply with a rock.
"Shit!" he swore, rubbing at the already-sore area on his skull. "Goddamn pebbles…." The rocks loomed large and black over the edge of the lake, providing a craggy, rugged appearance to this 'off-limits' area of the campus. The silhouettes conjured an entirely different set of memories for Draco, sending him back to a cold Irish castle, surrounded by water and stones where the water froze his soul and his father had held him underwater for what felt like years….
It was as if a light had been switched on inside Draco's head. That's where he'd take her, sadistic bastard! he exclaimed, immediately swimming back to shore as quickly as he possibly could. Draco's muscles screamed in protest, but he barely noticed; each stroke took him closer to Hermione, and he wasn't going to lose her this time.
HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM
Hermione stared bleakly around her new cell, curled into a tight ball to protect her injured ribs and head. Well, at least this one has light, she thought, trying to find the silver lining on this undeniably dark cloud. This holding cell seemed to be the exact opposite of her last prison; cold, with grey stones, and with one large, narrow window, Hermione had realized that she was at the very top of a crumbling tower.
Wind whistled through gaps in the wall, making every inch of the cell unbelievably cold and uncomfortable. Uncurling herself and standing by the window, Hermione couldn't even tell where the sky ended and the sea began; both were grey and angry-looking, and the horizon was invisible from her viewpoint. Water churned around the rocks at the base of her tower, the white water crashing over the harsh stones with loud, terrifying noises. I've never liked the sea, Hermione thought, shuddering. At least not seas like this….the Caribbean on a good day, sure, but not Northern Seas…
She had contemplated jumping – Hermione was thin enough to fit through the window – but had dismissed the thought almost immediately. The tower was so high she would surely die, and even if she managed to miss the rocks and hit the water she had no idea where the nearest land was, whether Lucius had wards up, or whether she could survive a swim in her condition. Sighing heavily, Hermione leaned back against the wall beside the window, curling up again. Her hair whipped around her face, sticking to her skin because of the dried blood, but she was beyond caring. If the injury hasn't killed me by now, I'm fine.
The clanking of a key turning in the lock caused Hermione's head to jerk up, her eyes wide and her heart pounding painfully against her broken ribs. Moments after the loud noise filled the previously-silent cell, Lucius Malfoy stepped into Hermione's prison. A gloating expression on his face, Hermione's scratch-marks healed and his clothes immaculately repaired, he walked slowly and deliberately towards where she was crouching. "Feeling better, mudblood?" he asked, resting his hand above the cut on her head. Hermione closed her eyes, resisting the impulse to flinch away from the man's greasy, unwelcome touch. "I see you're not in as much pain as before," Lucius said, tracing her cut with one long finger. "Pity." With a violent tug, Lucius used his nail to split open the barely-healed skin and re-start the blood flow.
Hermione hissed, a wave of dizziness crashing over her like the sea over the rocks below. When she had recovered slightly, Hermione opened her eyes. "I see that you've cleaned up, Malfoy," she ground out, moving her lips no more than necessary. "Although personally I think that your face looked much better the way I left it."
Absentmindedly tracing his cheek where Hermione had scratched him, Lucius scowled. "You think you're brave, don't you, filthy mudblood?"
His eyes were glowing dangerously, but Hermione matched his stare exactly. "Not brave," she said, "just not stupid enough to go along with you willingly."
Chuckling darkly, Lucius kicked Hermione aside and walked up to the window. "Ireland never appealed to me," he said dismissively, waving his hand at the grey world outside, ignoring the struggling Hermione. "I only ever returned to this castle because it terrified Draco and I believed he would learn a lesson by mastering his fears." Arching his eyebrow at Hermione and looking her up and down, Lucius continued by saying, "Apparently he didn't."
"Draco is braver than you'd ever imagine!" Hermione shouted, ignoring the pain in her lungs that speaking caused.
Malfoy laughed once; a harsh bark. "Why? Because he had the courage to befriend a mudblood bitch? Because he had the strength of mind to switch to the winning side at the end of the war? Because he succumbed to the pressure of service to the Dark Lord and mutilated his own body?" Hermione's wide eyes must have betrayed her surprise, as Lucius' lips curled up into a sneer. "Oh yes, I know about that – I gave him his first scars, but he took it from there. You don't think that I noticed him locking his doors? Wearing long sleeves? The scars on his Mark whenever we were summoned? Those are tell-tale signs of weakness, mudblood."
"Weakness?" Hermione spat out, her anger bubbling over. "Draco is anything but weak! He's rejoining society, and contributing, not acting like some vigilante staging kidnappings to achieve impossible goals! It's you, Lucius, who is the weak one."
Malfoy scowled, his face once again becoming shadowed and frightening. "Oh? Is that so?" he said softly. "The mudblood knows it all, does she? Then tell me, Golden Girl, why didn't Draco join the Light as soon as he realized the error of his ways in sixth year? Why didn't he immediately go to McGonagall, begging for forgiveness like that coward Snape?"
Hermione faltered slightly. "It would have put his life in danger," she said simply. "It wasn't a smart move."
Malfoy laughed, throwing his head back in a strange carefree gesture. "Foolish, ignorant girl! Draco wasn't genuinely swayed by the Light! He was being trained as a spy, to infiltrate the Order and pass information to the Dark Lord." Something in Hermione's stomach fell away. "All those occasions where he avoided involving himself in conflict, voiced his support of the Light, or went out of his way to help you Gryffindor brats; all of it was in an attempt to gain McGonagall's trust and gain admission to the Order inner circle."
"No," Hermione breathed, her eyes looking around her but not seeing. "He genuinely changed in sixth and seventh year, he wanted to help us -"
"One thing about Light Wizards that you can always count on is their undying optimism, their willingness to believe in the absolute best of people," Lucius said, picking at his nails. "It was easy to convince you all that he wanted to help, and even easier to train him as a spy. The only weak point in the plan was Draco's penchant for self-mutilation. And, of course, the war ended before our plan came to fruition, but – alas! – you win some, you lose some….."
Hermione had barely heard Lucius' words, her mind whirling and spinning at a million miles an hour. No…not Draco…he wants a fresh start, he wanted to help us!... a spy? No….nonononono….he was genuinely concerned, I know it. Lucius never saw the real Draco.
Composed again, Hermione looked back up at Lucius. "You don't get it, do you?" she said, painfully heaving herself up so that she was only a head shorter than the blonde aristocrat. "Draco never wanted to do anything you told him to, he was always working for the Light in the end. He did what was right!"
Lucius sighed. "That's what he wants to you think, precious," he said, running a cold, rough finger against Hermione's battered cheek. The motion drew Hermione's attention to Lucius' head, which was silhouetted perfectly by the narrow window. An idea started to form in her mind.
"You've been deceived. He never really wanted to switch sides – at least, not until the end of the war was inevitably in favour of the Light." His hand moved over her split lip, and Hermione was tempted to bite it. Don't move, she thought. He's right in front of the window….
"In the end, Draco didn't work for me, or Dumbledore…he only ever worked for himself. It just so happened that path….connected with yours. Next time I see my son, his treachery will not go unpunished."
As soon as Lucius stopped speaking, Hermione launched herself towards him with all of her might, sending him toppling backwards. His head hanging out the window and over the frightening emptiness that led only to rocks, water, and death, Hermione placed her hands over his neck, ignoring her body's spasm of pain. Lucius' eyes grew wide, his mouth slightly agape. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't push you over," she threatened, squeezing Lucius' neck so that her nails would leave marks in his skin.
Suddenly, Lucius' expression switched from one to shock to one of satisfaction. Hermione was too late to react; using her own weight against her, Lucius flipped himself around and whirled, pinning Hermione's injured collarbone to the stones with an intense flash of pain. Hermione grimaced, her eyes closed. "That's my reason," Lucius said smugly, pressing down on her shattered bone and causing stars to swim in front of her eyes.
She could feel the cool air tangling her unsecured hair, the cold dampness from the sea spray far below sticking to her skin. Staring purposefully at Lucius, masking her fear, Hermione stayed silent. "Ah, finally at a loss for words?" the eldest Malfoy gloated, running a long nail down her cheek. With another small shove, Hermione's entire front body was out the window, her life literally held in the balance with one of Lucius' well-manicured, fragile hands. Hermione closed her eyes, refusing to cry, refusing to think about dying or those she would leave behind. Breathe, girl, breathe….
Just as she was certain that she would soon be best friends with the grey rocks below, Lucius grabbed the front of her shirt and heaved her back into the room, holding her up in front of him. Lucius leaned in, a malicious grin on his face, his lips millimeters from her ear; "Trust me, dear. Sometimes silence truly is golden."
Hermione didn't say anything back. Closing her eyes and letting her posture slump, she resigned herself to whatever Lucius had planned for her. Suddenly, Malfoy gasped and dropped his prisoner, sending Hermione crashing to the ground with a large 'crack' – something else broken – she whimpered, cradling her now-throbbing leg and banishing the white-pain from her vision.
"It seems you have visitors," Lucius growled, his cape sweeping about him dramatically as he drew his wand and faced the door. "Let's give them a welcome, shall we?"
With a flick of his wrist, Hermione was bound, gagged, and trapped behind a semi-transparent ward. As she watched, helplessly, Lucius muttered various curses and hexes, embedding them into the stones and the door, the sickly-green magic oozing into the already-traumatized elements around him. Soon enough, Hermione heard the clatter of footsteps up the stairs, the clamor of voices. Please don't be Draco, please don't be Draco, her mind chanted, hoping against hope that the foolish Slytherin hadn't given into his Gryffindor behavior traits.
Lucius stopped his preparations, and the room fell into silence; Hermione didn't speak, Malfoy didn't move from his fighting stance, and whoever was outside the door had also fallen silent. It was like the entire castle was holding its breath.
Suddenly, with a spectacular bang, the door flew open and Hermione could clearly see the people on the other side of the door, silhouetted by a haze of magic and dust. Her soul collapsed in on itself.
No. Please, no….
A/N: Ta daaaaa! Chapter Seventeen, and sooner than I'd hoped! :) Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews and favourites, it really makes my day during this crazy-exam time to see that people have the time to read my jibberish. Hopefully I'll get the next chapter out by December 15th at the latest, but I do have to get my holiday shopping done at some point decently soon. (Cue the horror music...) Thanks y'all for your continued support, please R&R. :) :) ~sneakyslytherin