Chapter 5
Hermione woke up from the type of sleep that left her feeling wanting, dry mouthed and raw. She was sure that she dreamed of screaming paintings that looked like platinum blondes and doors that ate leather bound books. She couldn't be sure. She slowly eased her body up as not to disturb Malfoy, who she was surprised to find, huddled into his sleeping bag like newborn fowl- slick with sweat and leg tremors.
She observed his troubled face and thought back to her whirlwind encounter with him and this mysterious world of never ending light. His voice was secretive and she knew that every word he spoke was woven with lies and half admissions. There was an inky bloom of dishonesty swaddling her like an infant and she knew she was missing something. And she knew that Malfoy wasn't. He'd put some pieces together and she despised him for it.
She crept out of the transfigured tent and trotted down the hill to relieve her bladder and do a quick scourgify on her bonding time with Malfoy couldn't be more lovely but some personal space was definitely in order, she thought sarcastically. Hermione found a thin stream quietly dipping between tree roots and trampled leaves. She splashed her face and arms; she considered taking a drink of the cool water but thought better of it. Every moment in this world made her feel further and further from her own shores. She wasn't sure if the anchor to her real life could be rusted and degraded but she didn't want to find out. It would be a little Greek tragedy for her if she discovered eating of this world caused her to be a permanent resident. Looking longingly at the water one last time, Hermione turned back towards camp, towards Malfoy.
When she ambled back up the treeline, she felt a jolt of electricity dance up her legs. Malfoy was at the edge of their campsite twitching uncontrollably on the ground. This attack was not like his earlier afflictions. He looked as though a strong crucio was seizing his bones. Hermione propelled her body forward and ran to him. She was over 20 meters away and she yelled helplessly towards him as she struggled her way uphill. Guilt ate at her insides as she realized she'd left him defenseless and alone without warning.
As she got closer, she saw Malfoy's pale skin losing even more pigment. He was a quickly shrivelling bag of bones and she used all of her strength to dash the final meters to get to him. Malfoy's face crumpled in agony as he curled his lithe body into a tight ball. She stopped cold a few meters away from him. She saw a strange rippling in the air that reminded her of heat waves cascading in the desert sun or Harry's invisibility cloak when it danced in a light breeze (a dead giveaway that something was hiding in plain sight). She rubbed her eyes and the disturbing sight disappeared.
She made her up the rest of the way, winded and damp. She felt a cold prickling up her arms and down her back as though she'd been shoved into an ice bath unexpectedly. She felt the creaky whining of desperation tickle her mind and she slapped her hand to her forehead as if to ward off the sensation. She attempted to collect herself and investigate Malfoy's condition but she felt as though she were being encircled and watched. The strange transparent rippling had returned and was all around her in pounding waves. Something was here and it felt like gagging death.
Hermione felt rooted to the spot, inches from Malfoy and yet mentally miles away. She saw there were ripples all around his body and she guessed that whatever was upon them was causing his torment. They would be coming for her soon and then they'd both be lost. Deciding that any action was better than inaction, she swung her wand arm in a frantic, sweeping motion but could not think of any effective words against something she could not see. She was a wounded animal growling pitifully as the snakes approached- smelling her dripping blood.
Suddenly, she breathed in deeply and regained her purpose. She had come all this way to save Malfoy and untangle this mystery. She'd be damned if she gave up now and allowed the two of them to die in oblivion with no one to mourn their passing. Hermione reached deep into that frozen part of herself, the battleworn child who threw hexes like a territorial lioness and nearly roared. Expelliarmus bellowed out of her throat and she felt the strength of her words blow the rippling attackers away. She instantly felt relief as if a dementor had finally slithered away from her.
She ran to Malfoy who was no longer spasming on the ground; his torturers had been dispelled. He lay there like a deflated balloon with no wind to guide him. He looked both terribly haggard and unbelievably young. She sometimes forgot they were barely in their mid twenties- still so little. She reached down toward his scrunched up face and cupped his cheek gently. He did not immediately stir. She carefully moved his head into her lap and stroked his hair as she used to do with her mother. His face smoothed and he let out a tiny, tortured sound like a whimpering baby too exhausted to cry anymore.
"Are you alright?" Hermione whispered in a shaky voice.
"No," he said with a scoff as if the idea of being alright was completely foreign to him.
Unsure what to say and even more unsure of why she had his head in her lap, Hermione tore at her bottom lip. She felt the soft pattering of tears run down his cheeks and into her lap. She did not comment and looked off to the side, observing their campsite.
Everything looked as it did before, save for the disturbed leaves and roots that were upturned in Malfoy's seizure. She could not hear anything surrounding them but the heat of despair and longing burned her up as if whatever phantoms she'd disarmed had left raging flames in their wake. Fright clasped an ugly tentacle around her neck making it difficult to breathe normally.
"Malfoy," she whispered again, "I don't know what attacked you but I'm not sure how long those invisible things will stay stunned. Can you move?"
"Oh Granger, how little you understand." Malfoy drawled listlessly. He picked his head up from her lap with nary a thanks and moved himself into a sprawled position like a flayed roast chicken. It was the least elegant pose she'd ever seen him make, but she was too annoyed with his flippant words to laugh.
"Enlighten me," she said through clenched teeth.
"They've gone. Your curse threw them far and wide. You've given us a momentary reprieve."
He did not bother glancing at her and instead seemed intent to stare at the locks of hair covering his eyes. Malfoy used his soft breaths to push the hair falling into his face away from his eyes. He continued to do this for several moments as the hair would inevitably float back down to his lashes again and he'd repeat the puffing motion. In frustration, Hermione roughly swiped his hair to the side with an air of finality. She promptly filed away the softness of his sweat soaked hair and smooth skin for her late night musings. Malfoy merely raised a delicate eyebrow at her stunt (not even eternal torture could mar his perfectly groomed brows she noted bitterly).
Hermione glared at him with a tight jaw but refused to repeat herself. He knew that answer was not nearly sufficient. Malfoy sighed and raised his tattered garment to reveal several small bruises dotting his emaciated chest. The marks reminded her of the marks passionate sucking could induce on soft neck skin and she reddened.
Malfoy smiled tightly at her reaction and nodded his head to indicate that they were exactly what she surmised. "My soul still has form and stature and I feel and move as I did in our world."
Hermione did not breathe as she watched Malfoy's gaze turn over her shoulder. His eyes were slightly glazed and feverish as though reciting from an antique memory. She knew that to disturb him even with a harsh sigh would cut off his soliloquy. She waited on baited strings and prayed not to disturb his peace.
He continued on his shelled out voice, "Souls that dwell too long in this unceasing place decay much more quickly than I'd like to admit. Without life's bouncing and gyrations, the soul seems to realize that its original function has been served like an owl with no letters to deliver. The soul either carves its way into a new home, ascends to the great beyond or corrupts. Souls must have an essential function. They aren't meant for idle reprieve."
He let that ghost of information twitter in the air for a few beats too long and Hermione remembered his innate showmanship. Whatever he did and however he did it, the man had style. With a tiny flourish to his voice as though getting to the final number, the ending scene, he revealed his trick. "Those souls that refuse to be reborn or move on to the great beyond, out of fear or stubbornness or what have you, become phantoms that feed on the still healthy souls that reside here. The more they feed, the stronger they become until they are able to spin new bodies for themselves where they can return to the living world to suck the life out of all things they come across."
Hooded figures with gooey, bony fingers levitated through her mind. Ah, those ghastly things.
"And what happens to the souls they suck here?" Hermione finally asked. She continued to stare down at the sucking marks maring his skin.
"They suck until there is nothing left but a scratchy husk that either disintegrates or becomes as they are. You have saved me from deciding which option I'd prefer to take...for the time being". He closed his eyes as he said those final words. Hermione wished to be hugged or even to have the weight of Malfoy's head in her lap once more. She had not felt so cold in such a long time.
Malfoy insisted that he was ready to continue moving after his final tremors petered out. While she had her doubts about his health, Hermione was also feeling antsy to leave their campgrounds. The dark and dusky scent of death refused to dissipate.
Hermione watched as Malfoy collected himself and began to stand. He wobbled on his legs again and cursed angrily. His mouth was a rigid straight line and his fingers dug so deeply into his palms that droplets of blood snuck down his wrists. And the pallor that she'd seen on him from before was no match for the gray cast that smothered his features now.
Fear and frustration slapped at her bones. "You're being a bloody idiot. You're in no condition to start traveling."
"Not another word," he spat.
Hermione was steaming with unchecked rage, confusion and exhaustion. Three ingredients for a proper row if she'd ever been the judge of it. She felt the heat under her collar loosening her resolve to be civil; she felt the prickling of excitement nipping at her insides as she felt herself lose control. Watching Malfoy abuse his already broken body incensed a demanding righteousness within her that she had not felt since Kreacher had quite literally chewed up her last ditch effort at salvation- a messily knitted bow tie.
"I have plenty of words left and I intend to use them," her voice was a kick in the rear but Malfoy only rolled his eyes.
"Merlin, I forgot what an enormous bint you can be." Malfoy's cheeks bloomed with vitality as he was able to revel in the disdain he loved so dearly. A disturbing thought wafted through her mind as she saw his cheeks redden prettily: he was a rather attractive man underneath all that grime and cultivated disdain.
"That makes one of us. I have excellent recall and remember quite easily that you can be a right brat when you want to be. We're staying an extra night. If you keep annoying me, I'll make your sleeping bag extra scratchy."
Hermione had inched every closer to Malfoy as she found her anger rising. She was close enough to reach out and throttle him and she felt her pointer finger jutting into his chest. He looked indignantly at her stiff finger but did not back away.
"Why do you care?" His question tripped her. She looked into his unnaturally cold, curious eyes and saw true confusion laced within his gaze. She also realized he was much closer than he had been before. Malfoy had slowly inched into her pointed finger which Hermione refused to retract. His chest was more firm than she'd imagined but she could not relent now.
"Because you're pushing your body too far. You'll collapse." She stabbed her finger at him again for emphasis. He winced slightly and Hermione provided him with a smug albeit guilty smile. She hadn't meant to disturb his injuries but she had a point to make!
"More the better for you. Perhaps with me gone, you'll wake from this nightmare." His voice suddenly shifted like sand. It was smoother now; the harshness replaced with something ripe and sweet. Hermione's lower belly burned and tumbled with a feeling she could not remember ever having.
"Just like a Slytherin," she huffed. "You're so accustomed to being self serving that you can't understand anyone who isn't". She used that moment as an excuse to turn away from him in feigned annoyance. She stiffened slightly as she felt his cold body behind her.
"Careful Granger." He murmured with that same honeyed voice, "if you keep sweet talking me like this, I may not be able to let you go."
"Perhaps if I was still a school girl, I'd have fallen for that little performance." Hermione's voice was wavering slightly and she knew he'd heard it. She stewed with rage until it fizzled out abruptly. Two could play at such games. She swiveled back to face him and found his body centimeters from her own.
"But I realize there's only one way to reach your sort. So let's have a little wager. Winner decides what we do next."
Malfoy's tired face transformed into open interest now. Hooked.
"Terms?" he replied attempting to sound unimpressed and slightly bored. He pretended to inspect his craggy fingernails as though inspecting a recently buffed manicure with his eyes slanting slyly in her direction. She hated how nonchalant he could pretend to be but she knew he was burning with excitement.
Hermione tapped her finger to her chin and cocked her head to the side. "You don't have a wand so nothing overtly magical would do...so a battle of knowledge!"
Draco quirked that irksome eyebrow. "I object ostensibly."
"Why?"
"With no fact checkers or at the very least knowledgeable books to consult, how could we convince the other that our facts are correct? And seeing as you've been living much longer than I have at this point, it stands to reason that you have had more time to study and research. Any questions you would pose would leave me at a disadvantage."
Hermione attempted to quirk her own eyebrow but had no way to measure the success of this gesture. "Did the great Draco Malfoy admit a weakness? A possibility of inferiority? How very shocking," Hermione sniffed primly.
"Hardly Granger," Malfoy said as though condescending to explain warming charms to a very unintelligent blanket. "Admitting a lack of facts does not equate to a lack of mental acuity. Surely you must realize this? I am simply stating the obvious. I have little knowledge of the outside world and how can I be sure that you won't surprise me with questions that I have no way of verifying? Rather unsportsmanlike terms for a Gryffindor."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at the insinuation that she would ever do something so underhanded but breathed out slowly through her nose and closed her eyes for a moment. "Fine," she started, accepting that she was falling into his trap, "what would you suggest?"
The smirk on his face widened in pure glee. Hermione was almost happy to see him looking lively even if it was so obviously at her own expense. She had apparently developed a penchant for self induced masochism. Lovely.
"How kind of you to ask," he drawled, "I suggest a quick game of Lamplidrinia."
It burned Hermione to ask what in the seven hells he was talking about, but spit out the question anyway. "I've been playing it since practically my infancy. I'm surprised you'd never heard of it but it is a rather exclusive game so I suppose it's natural your lot has never come across it."
"If you have a point, I suggest you arrive at it quickly."
"That wasn't a dig Granger. It's simply an acknowledgement of the realities of class differences."
"This isn't a lecture of socio-economic status Malfoy. Get on with it."
"Traditionally herbologists were put on retainer by many wealthy families for generations. Expansive gardens and elaborate plant care and the like. Well the children were often caught trampling rare foliage in fits of boredom or simply running amuck on the grounds. Also, the lamplidrinia, a spark emitting firebug, had recently been brought to England by early American magical creature smugglers. Lamplidrinia are notorious pests that eat the color off of flower petals leaving discolored splotches and discolored trails on plants. Completely harmless but aesthetically unacceptable to pureblood ladies comparing gardens at afternoon tea. A game was devised to solve the issue. Special nets were forged so that children could catch them at dusk when they appeared. Whichever child caught the most would win. A variation includes charming one of the bugs to a glowing blue like a golden snitch. Whoever caught the blue lampy automatically won."
Hermione's interest peaked at what seemed a rather innocent pastime that she'd never heard of, "How would that solve the pest problem? Once the children caught them, they'd just be released again."
Malfoy's eyes shifted to the ground and Hermione's teeth instantly clenched. She already knew she was going to have to yell at him. "I said they were special nets. As soon as the lampy crossed into the net, its body would explode into mini fire lights. Quite lovely if you can get past the morbidity of the whole affair."
"That's barbaric!" she shrieked.
"Most of the best things typically start out that way," he said coldly. "You can't enjoy the theater without remembering its origins in gladiator tournaments. Most elaborate games were ritualistic before they were played purely for fun."
HIs glacial eyes were hard and flippant; her's were a raging tempest. "That doesn't make it any less cruel. And I refuse to play such a game."
"Cruelty runs in the blood," he shrugged nonchalantly as though he were discussing the weather.
"Regardless, the game, like so many other terrible things, has been changed to accomodate a less brutal reality...more palatable for today's sensitivities. Herbologists (with a little nudging) developed a charm that allowed lampys to eat and suckle to their hearts desire without altering the plant's outward appearance. As I said, their nibbling really had no effect on the health of any plants. They purely ruined appearance and perception which as we both know is unacceptable in polite society. Besides, the lampys are quite pretty to watch as they swirl around at dusk. Killing them never sat right with me."
Hermione felt her anger subside slightly. It was what Malfoy wasn't saying that cooled her ire. "You created a new game," she accused. Malfoy turned away from her without responding and gestured imperiously at the crunchy leaves on the ground like a king addressing an adoring crowd.
"Simply conjure some lampys from these leaves and two nets and we'll keep score. Don't forget to transfigure a blue one so I can beat you with relative ease." His voice was bored and indulgent like the little king he was. Hermione opened her mouth to press him but shut it firmly. She swept her wand and created ( what someone with no prior knowledge of said creature could reasonably be expected to produce) several multitudes of shining lampys with one special blue one fluttering high above their heads with two nets to match. Hermione focused on darkening their glittering wings so that they could easily contrast with the bright sky. She envisioned a tiny butterfly like insect with black sparkling wings that winked at the beholder as they flapped by. A cloak of peace cradled the two wizards as the transfigured creatures floated serenely above them like shooting stars.
Hermione threw his net and he caught it with soft grace. He did not look at her but instead watched the flying bugs with a steel trap face and twinkling eyes. His eyes were a child's at Christmas as the child took in the silvery bows and red wrapping paper glittering underneath the heavy scented fir tree. The juxtaposition of his wonder filled eyes and his hard face was jarring. She realized he was beautiful.
Malfoy began lazily swatting his net to and fro, catching bunches of transfigured lampys at a time. Hermione stood still, lost in revery and in revelations. Malfoy tapped her forehead with his net and looked at her in annoyance. She blinked in surprise and came back to the moment.
"Your physical ineptitude is truly astounding Granger. I have never put so little effort into sport in my life and I've already taken 20 points. Why bother with a wager if you have no intentions of attempting to win? Brightest witch." he scoffed that last bit with very little bite and she realized that was becoming a bit of a gag between them. Strange phenomena indeed when they had shared jokes.
"I have no intention on losing," she said cheekily as she began wildly netting the little bugs with reckless abandon. Malfoy's eyes narrowed in challenge and they both began thrashing their nets across the air like party streamers whizzing across an entryway. Hermione stifled a small giggle as she cut Malfoy's net off, stealing more lampys for herself. Soon the two were chasing and swatting at each other competitively until they were nearly tied. Their skin shone with cooling sweat and Hermione knew they were both filthy but found that she didn't mind the feeling of sticky cloth blanketing her skin. She did not notice the winces and slight wheezes Malfoy badly attempted to hide (such was her delight that she missed the rather blatant clues of his discomfort).
Hermione saw too late that Malfoy had spied the blue lampy floating several inches above their heads. With reflexes that she didn't believe the former seeker still had, Malfoy lept high into the air to grab the winning blue. His graceful arch turned to a swan dive as he suddenly spasmed while in midair. Hermione rapidly called out a cushioning charm that only barely materialized in time to break his fall. She dropped her net and ran to kneel beside him. He was clutching at his chest and sweating more profusely than she'd realized. Fear clawed at her but she brushed his protective fingers away without a thought to his personal space or rights and pulled up his robes. The skin previously covered in sucking bites had broken out into deep, oozing sores. They smelled of decay and rot.
"Technically, I did catch the blue. So we should be going on our way but perhaps you were right. I may need a moment to rest." his sarcastic tone was severely dampened as he attempted it through heavy fits of anguished intakes of breath.
"You're admitting I was correct. Truly astonishing." Hermione said absently as the shock of his injuries muddled her mind.
"A rather pyrrhic victory I'm sure." he said dryly before crying out in pain once again.
Thank you to Sewing Slytherin who's been here from the beginning and to Jacpin2002 who not only commented on FF but also AO3! You two are amazing. And thank you to everyone else following my story now. Your comments and ideas have really helped shape this story. Please continue to support me as it keeps me going :) Side note...how long have dramione facebook pages been a thing? I recently started following a few. Literally who knew and didn't tell me? Haha!
