Chapter 15 – Discovery

A/N: So, for any of y'all that follow Tom Felton, you'll find a little easter egg in here that ties Mr. Felton with Draco's character. Hope y'all enjoy that little bit, I giggled when I thought of the idea and dubbed myself "clever girl". I did a ton of research to make sure I got Metamorphmagi and Animagi magical lore correct. I apologize for any glaring errors.

Song Recs: Holocene – Bon Iver and Try A Little Tenderness – Frank Sinatra

Neither of them mentioned the evening spent watching the snow fall in the comfort of each other's presence and Hermione was perfectly content to keep it that way. Both of them were under tremendous stress and it was only natural to seek solace through contact, but that was all it needed to be. Hermione was still incredibly concerned about the level of bonding between them and wondered if that spurred their growing need for each other. She had also noticed with some alarm that by the end of each day, she felt terribly exhausted. She originally attributed her fatigue to the care of Malfoy and the strain of healing him, but she should have recovered her energy by now. It was too early in the morning to be considering these kinds of thoughts and their implications, especially without a strong cup of tea. She needed to clear her head and decided a walk through the woods was exactly what was needed. Malfoy was still fast asleep on the couch as she crept by and out the door. The morning air still had a brisk chill, and she drew her cloak close. Taking a deep breath, she headed towards the forest.

Walking along the stream, flowing fast and free of ice, Hermione noticed the burgeoning signs of spring. The snow seemed to be shrinking away and there was a number of birds returning to the bare trees. She could also feel the changing of the air around her, a sliver of warm air swirling with the cold. She inhaled deeply, the smell of earth filling her nose. That muddy scent must be thawing soil, she thought. Soon shoots of green grass would burst forward. Despite her love for snow, Hermione was relieved. She loved spring with its growing sunshine, the explosion of life, and warmer temperatures. She continued her meandering walk when a flash of color caught her eye. Backtracking, she sought the location of the color and was absolutely delighted when she found its source.

Daffodils!

Growing up from the semi-frozen ground and lightly covered in snow were daffodils. Their sunshine yellow petals glowed brightly against the white blanket of the ground. Fresh stalks stood strong and several buds extended from them, promising further blooms. Hermione could have wept at them. Daffodils were such incredible flowers, bursting from nothing when others could not. And they were everywhere! She must have stumbled across an entire patch. Her eyes swept across the small clearing and noticed other colors had joined the vibrant golden blossoms. Purple crocuses with lively orange stigmas, delicate white snowdrops, and ruby red tulips. She clapped her hands in delight. A bouquet of colorful flowers was exactly what was needed in the cottage. It was a wonderful little place but definitely lacked any signs of color or life. Hermione walked around slowly, selecting blossoms with care while making sure to leave plenty of flowers with buds for future growth. She stood up after collecting her final flower, a particularly lovely crocus that was a deep purplish blue. Not fully opened, the petals had a beautiful satin sheen with the bright orange center barely peeking through. Holding the flowers in her hand, she smiled down affectionately at the simple beauty they exuded. Almost as if the blossom had detected her adoration, the crocus opened further, revealing a purple and white striped interior. Hermione blinked and shook her head. She was no expert, but plants didn't open that quickly. She must be seeing things. Turning on her heel, she headed back to the cottage.

As it came back into view, she smiled at the thick curl of smoke rising from the chimney. Malfoy must be up and had already started a fire. The sun was overhead but there was still a coolness to the air. She looked forward to warming herself in front of a crackling fire, especially one she didn't have to make. As she got to the door, a soft noise stopped her in her tracks. Looking around for the source and finding none around her, she realized it was coming from inside the cottage. She leaned forward and quietly put her ear to the wooden door, listening intently. The gentle sound of melodic humming floated through the wooden panels. The song sounded so familiar, like a song her parents would dance to. Rummaging through her brain, she tried to place the song and it wasn't til the voice switched from humming to softly singing that recognition hit her.

Try A Little Tenderness, sung by Ol Blue Eyes, Frank Sinatra.

Hermione wasn't sure which thing to be more astounded by. The fact that Malfoy was singing, that he was singing a song by a muggle, or that he was actually a decent singer. As his voice tapered off, she determined that last fact was the most upsetting. She would have never pegged him for a singer, it just felt so out of his character. Although, she wasn't so sure she could accurately describe his character anymore. He certainly wasn't the same as he had been before. Not hearing any indication that he might start singing again, she opened the door and walked inside as if she hadn't heard a thing.

Malfoy stood in the kitchen pouring some hot water in a bowl of oatmeal. He set the kettle down when she walked through the door and shrugged out of the woolen cloak. His focus shifted to the burst of color she held.

"Bringing me flowers eh Granger?", He greeted, his eyes dancing.

Hermione inhaled sharply, too sharply, causing her to choke and cough. Malfoy lifted a pale eyebrow inquisitively while he watched her cough into her hand.

"Don't be daft." She croaked out after catching her breath, "I thought the cottage might need something to brighten it up. If you haven't noticed, except for the basics, this place is completely bare."

"That has not escaped my notice." He countered, "They look nice Granger. Here, let me."

He turned and grabbed a cup from the cabinet and withdrew his wand. With a swirl, the cup was transfigured into a ceramic vase in a creamy eggshell glaze. He looked up at her and held out his hand, motioning for her to hand him the flowers.

Stunned once again in less than five minutes, Hermione soundlessly placed the blooms into his outstretched hand. He set the vase down and gently began tucking the flowers in. Hermione stood awkwardly, her mouth opening and closing, at a complete loss for what was happening. How many times was Draco Malfoy going to surprise her like this?

He stepped back once he had finished and looked up at her with a mischievous grin. An expression which promptly disappeared upon seeing her face. He quickly turned around and resumed his shuffling about the kitchen. Hermione started, realizing her dumbfounded expression could be mistaken for judgement.

"They look lovely." She declared, hoping to convince him, "The vase was just what they needed. The color matches well, like the flowers are coming from snow itself."

His movements slowed down, and his head turned sideways.

"I looked through that tin of seeds from when we first arrived," he spoke, turning to face her, "Since we'll be here for a while, we'll need to find and grow another source of food. This pantry won't last us much longer. However, I also noticed there were some flower and herb seeds as well."

Hermione blinked, not sure where Malfoy was going with the conversation.

"We should consider, once it has warmed up, growing a garden here.", He explained, seeing her confusion, "And you can grow flowers to 'brighten' up the place like you said. We can also grow an herb garden for both food and medicinal purposes."

What he was saying made complete sense, but that wasn't what was causing Hermione's brain to malfunction. It was the fact that he kept referring to them as 'we'. They were going to grow a garden together. The Gryffindor Princess and Slytherin Prince rolling up their sleeves and planting seeds, together. He looked at her oddly, waiting for a response.

"Yes." She squeaked out, "That sounds like a wonderful idea. A garden will be immensely helpful."

He looked mildly amused by her high-pitched response. He reached for the tin containing the seeds and slid it towards her.

"See if you like any of the flowers in there and find out which of the herbs are the most valuable." He suggested lightly, turning back to his breakfast and leaving Hermione flustered as she stared at the lively floral arrangement between them.

Even with his back to Granger, he could still feel her standing there. He wasn't quite sure what had come over him, suggesting that they plant a garden had flown out of his mouth before his mind had kicked in. He figured she would have been surprised about the vase and flower arranging business, but that was just a product of his privileged upbringing. He had also noticed a slow but significant change in his attitude towards her, especially since that day in the woods. He rubbed his scarred arm and frowned. He had tried summoning his prejudice against her but had quickly discovered it was no longer there. A general uneasiness and slight distrust due to her volatile goddess status remained, but that was all. Draco was surprised to learn he no longer hated her. In fact, he suspected a shadow of another feeling was lurking below the surface. However, he was not ready to explore that just yet.

Looking down at his bowl of rapidly cooling oatmeal, he sniffed in mild annoyance. He also had a selfish reason for a garden. The majority of the food in the pantry was dried or on its last legs of magical stasis. He was desperately craving fresh food and herbs. And, he admitted begrudgingly, Granger was right in that the cottage was in desperate need of color.

He secretly smiled while imagining her flushed and glowing from the cold. He had been somewhat stunned at the vibrancy of the flowers she had collected. They looked almost fake with how bright the colors were. He wondered if that was Cerridwen's doing? As Granger had pointed out, Cerridwen was capable of many things beyond their comprehension. He shrugged off the thoughts, knowing it was no good speculating until they deciphered more of the old texts.

He cast a warming charm on the oatmeal and his cup of earl gray and made for the comfort of his chair by the hearth, bypassing a stock-still Granger. He smirked to himself. At least she hadn't heard him singing. That would probably send her straight to the magical coma ward of St. Mungo's.

With Malfoy healed, the two resumed their attempts at translations. Hermione thought that was one silver lining of their extended stay, they'd be able to discover more and gain a better understanding of what was happening to her. An earlier discussion had prompted them to work on two separate subjects. She would focus on learning more about Cerridwen and Malfoy would peruse journals, ones that only those of Malfoy blood could open, for any mention of Horcruxes or any other forms of similar magic. She had been hesitant to explain horcruxes to Malfoy, but his reaction to her words suggested he had already figured out that Voldemort had been in possession of some sort of incredibly Dark artifacts that extended his life. He, however, had blanched at learning just how many the mad wizard had made. He listened quietly as she explained how Ron had destroyed the locket with the Sword of Gryffindor.

"Didn't think the Weasel had it in him." Malfoy remarked offhandedly, "But, that explains why my aunt went absolutely loony on you."

Hermione coughed lightly, not ready to address her time spent under Bellatrix LeStrange's knife. She shivered at the memory and turned back to the book in front of her, not looking at Malfoy. He wisely kept his mouth shut and returned to his book as well.

Hours passed and night began to fall. Hermione was considering calling it an evening when a string of runes in the upper corner of a page caught her eye. They shimmered in and out of focus. She blinked rapidly, wondering if she had strained her eyes in the low light. She looked up briefly to see if Malfoy was having similar vision issues. Not seeing any signs of visual stress beyond a look of intense concentration, she glanced back down at the text. The runes continued wavering on the faded paper. She frowned while gathering the book in her arms, stood up, and began pacing in back and forth by the fire. She hoped the proximity to the bright flames might help with the flickering movement.

An idea sparked in her mind and she took a deep breath while focusing her magic on the text. She pictured in her mind's eye the act of the runes translating themselves. She pictured the runes' linework transforming into the slants and curves of known language. She felt Cerridwen moving like a shadow behind her eyes, a sense of curiosity and mild amusement floating around her. Focusing more intently, Hermione concentrated on applying her magic to the translations. It was all highly theoretical, but as she had argued to Malfoy, they had a very vague idea of Cerridwen's true magical potential. Feeling the magical intention was complete, she opened her eyes and peered at the curious symbols.

SMACK.

A sharp slap startled Draco from the antiquated Malfoy journal he was studying, and he whipped his head around to glare at the source of the sound. Granger was standing by the fire with a look of absolute shock on her features, her hands in the air as if she were holding something. He stood and walked cautiously towards her, suspicious another Cerridwen episode was occurring. Confirming there was no sudden temperature drop and her eyes remained their usual amber color, he noticed a book open at her feet. Confused, he leaned down, picked up the book, and peered at its contents. Finding nothing but indecipherable runes, he glanced at her once more.

"Granger." He snapped, hoping to draw her out of her stupor.

Her eyes seemed to re-focus and her lips began to move, a faint sound too low for Draco to hear.

"Speak up Granger." He grumbled, irritated at her soft tone, "Not all of us have an internal goddess that gives us superhuman hearing."

"I'm a shapeshifter." She whispered.

Draco's expression darkened. Surely, he had heard her incorrectly. Shapeshifters, specifically non-cursed human shapeshifters, weren't real. Maybe she was referring to Metamorphmagi or Animagi.

"I don't think I heard you correctly?" he ventured, "Did you just say shapeshifter?"

She nodded and pointed towards the book.

"That book said I am, or rather, Cerridwen is." She breathed out.

Draco snorted, looking down at the book in his hands and finding no text save those damned runes.

"I think you've had enough. All this studying has apparently made you a bit mad or tired, probably both." He replied, shutting the book and setting it down.

"No," Granger spoke forcefully, "I don't think you understand. Cerridwen showed me."

Draco stared hard at her, unable to grasp what she was getting at. He watched as she took a deep breath and plopped down in his armchair, the look of shock still creasing her face.

"The runes were fuzzy, almost like they were refusing to stay still." She explained, "I focused my magic and tried to use it to transform the runes into words."

"It doesn't work that way." He scoffed, pacing back and forth at her words, " If that was the case, we would have figured out these texts ages ago."

"I know," she responded, her irritation visibly increasing, "But I felt Cerridwen react when I focused my magic. I just knew she had the power to translate runes about herself. Or maybe I could see the ancient language through her eyes. I don't know how it happened! I just opened my eyes and the words were there."

"Are you sure it wasn't referring to Metamorphmagi or Animagi?" he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Or maybe even something symbolic? You know those older texts like to be cryptic and vague."

"No." she answered hotly, "It specifically spoke of Cerridwen's shapeshifting abilities, specifically several animal forms. It also mentioned that she used this ability to chase after a thief who sought to steal her magical knowledge."

Draco was astounded and skeptical of this revelation. Could Granger truly shapeshift? If so, she'd be the first magical being known to do so. Animagi could only transform between themselves and their chosen animal form. Metamorphmagi were incredibly rare and even then, no one had ever been able to confirm whether they had the ability to shift into full forms beyond humans, such as animals. His cousin, Nymphadora Tonks, was a Metamorphmagus. But she was born that way, Granger was not. Nor did it appear that Granger could turn at will like his cousin. He rubbed at the dull throb growing in his temples.

"So," he stopped pacing to address her, "Shapeshift then."

She sputtered in response, shooting him a withering glare.

"I don't know how!" She cried, crossing her arms in irritation.

"You also didn't know you could translate runes by literally willing them into being." He shot back, arranging himself in a defensive position.

She shot out of the armchair, throwing her arms out in exasperation. He continued to watch her, waiting and curious to see if she would attempt anything.

"This is ridiculous, Malfoy!", she sniffed, "I can't just shapeshift on command!"

"Maybe if you calmed down and focused, you'd be able to channel your magic properly." He drawled.

Granger put her hands on her hips defiantly and narrowed her eyes in annoyance. Draco grinned internally when she huffed at his expectant expression.

"Fine!" she growled and dropped her hands from her hips.

Relaxing from his earlier stance, Draco walked over and stood opposite her small form. Looking down, he noticed a small tremor rattling her body. He placed a light hand on her shoulder, willing the shaking to stop.

"Just breathe." He ordered, "And focus like you did with the runes."

She nodded resolutely and shrugged out from under Draco's palm, closing her eyes with a deep breath. A strange expression flitted across her face, replaced by a mask of calm and concentration. Several moments of silence passed with no movement from Granger. He was about to speak up when her eyes popped open and her nostrils flared as she released a sharp pant.

An overwhelming brightness flashed through the cottage and Draco stepped back in awe, shielding his face. The light receded and he opened his eyes, blinking through the spots flaring in his vision. Noticing Granger was gone, a wave of sheer panic washed over him.

Hearing a small squeak, he looked down and a long line of obscenities fell violently from his lips. Where Granger had stood moments before, now sat an…otter.

Post Chapter A/N: So, this lil revelation is part of the reason I chose Cerridwen as Hermione's goddess counterpart. The transformation story of Cerridwen has one of her animal forms as an otter, which we know is Hermione's Patronus. The connection was too perfect to ignore!