A/N: thank you CindyBarnard, my wonderful beta. For fixing my goofs and helping me become a better writer!
Italics still mean the same as in the last chapter and I still don't own anything.
Chapter 17
Hermione is sitting on her bed mindlessly playing with her necklace. She is going over all the things she learned today. She had gone to visit Andromeda, taking up her invitation from Christmas. She played with Teddy until his nap time then the ladies had tea and discussed the Portum that enclosed the necklace she had received anonymously for Christmas. She had diligently taken notes but has not needed to refer to them since her thinking isn't about the magic she just learned.
Hermione hadn't given much thought to the box except for loving the kneazle on it, thinking it was similar to a small safe like muggles use to hold valuables. Andromeda had reminded her that the Portum had probably belonged to an old wizarding family before going over how to use the charms related to it. After her lesson, Hermione asked why she thought it belonged to a family and Andromeda's response of "it has to" was disconcerting but also piqued her interest.
She went to Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley and after being directed to and making sure there was a section on Portums in it, she bought the book, A Definitive Guide to Heirlooms in the Wizarding World. Since it was her first time she had been there since Christmas she went to the jewelry store and was stonewalled by the owner when she tried to find out who purchased the necklace. She even threatened to no longer shop there and he just smiled and said he wouldn't break a confidence. She couldn't even get a pronoun out of him. Frustrated, she had disapparated from the shop, even though it is considered rude.
Arriving home in a huff she made herself dinner and while eating, read about Portums. She skimmed through the sections of things she already knew: it is a box imbibed with protective magic, guarded by an enchanted carving of a magical beast, only to be opened by the giver and the recipient and their children unless charmed to be opened by another. She turned the page and is shocked when she learned the cost of a new one would be multiple times more than the cost of her necklace due to the intense and time-consuming magic required to make one, which also contributes to their rarity. The book notes there are currently only two wizards who create them by taking special advance orders and require several years to complete. The last line reads, "Usually given by a pureblood family heir to their beloved."
Gobsmacked and in a fog, she cleaned up her dishes then went to her bedroom. Sitting down she reaches for her little box, watching the kneazle frolic around. It pounces on her finger as she strokes the box. Sighing, she gently places the Portum back on her nightstand and begins playing with her necklace.
It can't be. She shakes her head to clear it and then grabs her journal, rifling through and reading different entries. The last one she reads is about the day she spent at Diagon Alley before Christmas. When finished she flips the pages and begins writing.
The box from a pureblood. The day at the jewelry store he was there. Draco was there. It's from Draco. How did I not see it before?
Why? We've been friendly since starting training, friends now. But why the anonymous gifts and the almost kiss? Is he mocking me?
Hermione stops writing and fingers the necklace, concentrating on her memories. She ponders his reasoning and takes a deep breath and feel butterflies erupt in her stomach as she slowly lets it out.
Last night we almost kissed until I jumped away. I have never seen him smile at anyone the way he does at me. The care and comfort he has shown me. He listens to me and makes me laugh. He apologized to me. He is patient with me. Is this real? Is this his true nature that he shows only me?
Hermione stops writing and takes a few slow, deep breaths. She is still having trouble wrapping her mind around this. She has seen glimpses of this side of him at work, but he is usually imperturbable.
Is he really this affable, caring and tender person and his mask is the indifference and aloofness he personifies?
What does this mean to me? What does he want? All his actions seem to say he wants me, but how and why?
He's given me so much more than the flat and gifts and has asked nothing in return. Even when I pulled away Sunday night, he just left. No hurtful words or looks.
Hermione shakes her head and picks up her Portum and watches the kneazle who turns its head to the side as if he is waiting for her next move. Then it hits her.
The day in his flat before showing me mine, I told him about Crookshanks. That's the significance of the box. I think it's his way of trying to help me with the loss of my half-kneazle. Does he know the symbolism behind the heirloom? Surely he does. What does that mean for me? Does he possibly care about me that way?
Hermione again takes a deep breath and thinks of the times Draco has touched her and feels the same sensation like her nerve endings are pulsating in a rush of waves over her body.
Our chemistry is palpable, Ginny even saw it that day at the Ministry. Not only is his touch tender, it's invigorating and almost intoxicating.
Is it just a physical connection? Sexual tension? Maybe, but he has shown me so much of who he is. Would he do that if it is just physical? I'm not sure.
That day at the lake in sixth year. I was so taken aback by his actions and surprised he wasn't cruel. He felt the connection too, even then, before everything.
Thinking about that day, Hermione flips back in her journal to her dreams, she begins reading about the day at the lake. She stops and rereads: I look around wondering why on earth someone would trim the lawn so early in the year, but realize the smell isn't all around me. Shifting a little closer to Draco, I take a deep breath and realize it isn't grass, it's sandalwood and it is Draco. He smells so good, like new parchment, spearmint and sandalwood.
Hermione looks up and swallows and takes several deep breaths trying to slow her rapid heartbeat. She pulls her journal back into her lap from where it had fallen into her bed and turns it back to the current day and writes again.
After reading about the day at the lake, I had an epiphany.
She takes a couple more steadying breaths not sure that she can write down her whole conclusion, instead, she writes, Amortentia?
Hermione decides not to deal with that realization now, instead, she decides to journal about the present.
For me? I like the way I feel when I am with him. Protected. Cared for. Cherished. Wow, do I really feel cherished? Yes, I do.
Before she changes her mind she practically jumps off the bed, grabbing the Portum roughly, causing the kneazle to growl. Then rushes out of her flat and up the stairs to Draco's. I'm going to thrust the box into his hands and confront him. Well not confront him, maybe kiss him. When she is at the door she almost loses her nerve but that Gryffindor courage forces her to knock.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Another person at St. Mungo's to add to Draco's case load. Another person too many. People, if you can call them that, who continue to function at a basic level, with no emotions only reflexes, no sense of self, no recognition of family, no likes or dislikes. They do what they are told, exercise, eat, sleep and repeat. Harry made a comment that they are like robots or clones and after he explained what they are, Draco agrees. It is the only insightful thing Harry has added to the case.
At the end of the work day, he appends his file and includes information on the squib, making sure to duplicate it for Hermione to give to her after the first of the year. Hermione. He sits with his elbows on his desk, chin resting on his interlocked fingers. He glances down at the picture of the Aurors he completed training with at their graduation ceremony. Potter's arm is around her shoulders and they are both smiling widely. He is on the other side of them smirking. If you study the pictures closely you can see him cut his eyes to Hermione then quickly back in front again. He rubs his face closing his eyes tightly and he recalls Sunday night. For a moment I thought she felt like I do. He swallows down his disappointment, schooling his features as he leaves his office so he can disapparate home.
Draco rummages in his kitchen for something to eat but does not find anything that appeals to him. He settles on making a sandwich, but it's tasteless. He is already knackered from his work day and dreads working on the assignment for his mentalist. He has no other alternative since he can no longer put off writing down why he took the dreamless sleep.
He pours a shot of fire whiskey, but only takes a couple of sips to help steady himself for the task he has to complete, knowing it will bring about emotional turmoil, even though he refuses to write about how he feels. He sighs and walks slowly towards his office, setting his drink on his desk, he pulls out a piece of parchment and opens his ink. Their smell, only part of his Amortentia, still stirs the longing in him for her. He grabs for the whiskey, tossing it back, finishing it on one gulp. He allows the burning to sooth him. He wants another but won't risk becoming dependent upon it like he did dreamless sleep. He sits then begins his writing. It is clinical and detached and if not written in the first person, it would read like he was referring to someone else. He writes first about Hermione's rejection, being careful not to mention her name after all, her professor is his Mentalist. Then as he continues he realizes the encounter with Zacharias Smith and the confrontation with his father had also taken their toll on him. So he describes it all, completely devoid of emotion since Gibbs will force him to talk through it tomorrow and he does not want to deal with the feelings twice.
He places a spell on the paper so no one else can read it and slides it into his briefcase, staring at the blank page for several moments, before closing and locking it. That is how I feel, empty. He pushes back in his chair, then proceeds to change out of his clothes and into some silk pajama bottoms before going to the bathroom.
Draco brushes his teeth and really looks at himself in the mirror. He does not do this often anymore, not like when he was at Hogwarts and his vanity necessitated long minutes of primping every morning. He sees dark circles beginning to form under his eyes. He hadn't slept well since he took the dreamless sleep. It always makes it harder to fall sleep again without it. He looks tired and his eyes look emotionless. He splashes warm water on his face, hoping to soothe himself, but it doesn't work. He dries off and shuts off the light.
Draco is afraid it might be a while before he is able to fall asleep so he is walking into his sitting room to get a book when he hears knocking on the door. What now? He thinks it is Theo again so he doesn't call out. He can just wait until I get there. The knocking stops and he almost turns on his heel, but then he hears, "Draco, it's Hermione, are you home?" He is unable to move. Then more knocking, insistent knocking. "Draco?" Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock. "Draco?" Her voice louder and a little higher. Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock…He is standing at the door now, it had only taken three long strides. One hand fixed on the handle, the other hand, palm flat on the door where he can feel the vibrations of her continued knocking. I can't. Not tonight. Not so soon. I need more time to get my emotions under control. When he realizes he is breathing heavy, he holds his breath and doesn't move, afraid she will hear and know his cowardly self is on the other side of the door. A few more seconds of knocking pass then he hears her walk away. He breaths again and leans his forehand on the door and closes his eyes. He does not know how long he stayed that way but when he finally lifts his head, his neck is sore. Maybe he had been waiting, hoping she would return. He realizes he is thirsty and heads into his kitchen to get water. He moistens his lips and they taste salty, but he won't admit to himself it was because he had been silently crying while Hermione knocked.
He goes to his bedroom and lays down, wondering if sleep will ever come tonight.
A/N – check out my board on Pinterest The Auror Mentalist under the user name Fanfiction Author Chalayne – I found the perfect picture of Tom Felton studying a drink in his hand, sitting at a desk. It's my headcanon for this chapter.
I also have two illustrations of a kneazle labeled A & B. Review or PM me and let me know which one you like the best for the carving on Hermione's Portum. At the end of the story I'll let you know which one gets the most votes!