Chapter 41 – The Art of Realization
A/N: Sorry for the super delay – enjoy my loves!
"You must be or you wouldn't have come here."
The Earth abruptly tilted on its axis and the ground trembled violently. The nearby blue flames quivered and a curious wind rustled in the oaks.
Telepathy. It couldn't be. Sure, Parseltongue was an incredibly rare magical. But telepathy – THAT was magical lore. Extraordinary in its existence, comparable to the Sorcerer's Stone.
Blinking very slowly, Hermione eyed the blonde-haired enigma at her side with a critical glare. The urge to shift away from him nearly impossible to resist. Her mind had completely quit functioning. If the situation hadn't been so severe, she might have enjoyed the blessed silence emanating from her overactive brain.
"Did you…" she started before trailing off, feeling too unnerved to finish the damning question that hung between them.
A slight tilt of his head was his only response. He quirked a golden eyebrow at her, waiting for further response. She stared in dismay, her mouth opening and closing unceremoniously. One second, thirty seconds, five minutes, and some other undiscernible amount of time passed before she could form a proper thought or even string a sentence together. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and pushed forward.
"Let me get this straight. You visited some wasteland, proved yourself worthy, and then Cerridwen granted you not only the entirety of knowledge itself but also the ability to use telepathy!? A gift, I might mention, hasn't been seen since the Middle Ages and even then, that account has yet to be proven." She finished with a gasp, realizing her voice had risen several octaves.
He seemed amused by her increasingly unstable emotional state, which of course, only infuriated her more.
"This is hardly the appropriate moment for humor." she grouched, huffing like a petulant child.
"Its not amusing in any sense of any word or world, but at this point, its all I can manage." He snapped, a harsh edge to his voice.
She breathed softly in surprise. She couldn't really blame him when you stripped the situation down to its basest form. Eventually her curiosity won over her sense of self-preservation and she scooted closer to him. Giving his hand a light squeeze, she took a calming breath and stared straight into his eyes. They were as unnerving as the first moment she glimpsed them but the longer she looked, the faster her heart began to beat. Finally, she was seeing the unfathomable depth hidden within his eyes, but most frustratingly, that was all they were. Windows. Small windows in which she could glimpse the faintest pictures, pinpricks of glowing color. She could see, but she could not understand. He seemed to sense her growing irritation and gave a brief chuckle.
"Ah, that's an annoyingly clever caveat our dear old Cerridwen bestowed." He scoffed.
Hermione merely stared at him, unsure of what he was going on about. He sighed dramatically as if thoroughly put out by her lack of understanding. Not all of us have eternal and unending universal knowledge, oh almighty Lord Malfoy, she mentally snapped. He tilted his head slightly and tapped his temple with his free hand. Slowly, the embarrassing light of realization dawned and furious spots of red settled high across her cheeks.
"So, um, can you hear me all the time?" she questioned, arching a threatening eyebrow at him, daring him to admit to invading her mind.
"It appears I can only hear you when you directly address me. The rest sounds like muffled background chatter." He replied, returning an equally challenging glare, "I didn't exactly ask to have a direct telepathic link with the swottiest witch in the entirety of wizarding history, it's almost as absurd as that batty Trelawney character."
Hermione had to stifle a snort. Her disdain for the bejeweled and incense-riddled Divination Professor and subsequent departure from the useless subject had almost reached legendary status at Hogwarts. She managed to cover the derisive sound with a cough. He gave her a haughty look and continued.
"Now with what I am going to tell you next, I must insist you keep your internal voice at a manageable volume." He spoke, his voice flat as the corner of his eyes tightened, "And give me your word that you won't summon some fire elemental directly at my head? I am rather enjoying these silky strands of mine."
"What in Merlin's name are you going on about Draco? Why would I ever set you on fire?" she demanded hotly.
He gave her a smug and accusatory smirk.
"FINE. Why would I ever 'purposefully' set you on fire?' she ground out as her eyes rolled, the stark memory of sending other elementals at him in accidental fits of magical rage.
Apparently satisfied with her correction, he recaptured both her hands as his face turned somber and his brow furrowed in obvious discomfort. He tensed briefly before turning apologetic eyes towards her.
"Would you do me the honor of becoming the next Madame Malfoy, Mistress of Malfoy House?
Draco was pretty sure he had never endured both the longest and most awkward silence of his entire life nor experienced the godforsaken noise that almost instantaneously began emitting from both her mouth and her mind.
"BECOME THE NEXT WHAT!?" the unearthly piercing sound tearing through the air.
He winced, his head aching deeply. He felt the burning behind his eyes and struggled to drown out the deafening shouting echoing through her psyche. He felt the tips of his ears go pink at some of the curses falling from her mind's metaphorical lips.
"Hermione, I know it's not ideal…" he began, irritatingly aware of how petty the words sounded.
"NOT IDEAL! Came her strangled tremor.
Clenching his teeth tightly, Draco struggled to maintain his calm demeanor. He understood on an intimate level how intrusive and startling the whole situation was and its immense implications. So much so that his magical core shivered fiercely, a vague emotion similar to pathetic Gryffindor-esque compassion flitting across his face.
"Merlin Granger, please stop your incessant screeching." He pleaded, hoarseness tinging his voice, "I'm holding the entirety of time in my mind and I cannot handle your poor imitation of a banshee any longer."
He guessed that was either the absolutely correct thing, or frighteningly improper response, because she promptly clamped her lips together and fixed him with a withering glare. It was enough to make him briefly contemplate his near impending doom at her very capable, not to mention slightly unstable goddess-like, hands.
With the grace and elegance of a properly-trained pureblood matron, she gently withdrew her hands from his and expertly folded them into the woolen folds of her cloak. Draco was amazed at the Healer-like precision of her movements. He should have known by now that an eerily calm witch was an exceptionally dangerous witch. He regretted this particular lapse in judgement when the full fury of Hermione Jean granger, a la Cerridwen, an ancient goddess with powers beyond the concept of time and space, was unleashed upon his unprepared existence.
She turned to him, a cold smile plastered on her lips as a black fury raged behind her eyes.
Yes, his mind whispered, a most grievous error indeed.
"Then let's discuss this calmly, shall we?", she began with a pronounced hiss, "First we complete an mysterious and potentially fatal ritual that nearly got you killed then you return with not, but TWO inconceivable magical gifts. Both of which the world has never seen nor even dreamt possible. To have tasted the Cauldron of Knowledge gifted personally by Cerridwen herself then blessed with an ability so rare it was believed to be legend. Have I summarized it quite neatly so far, Draco?"
Despite all the knowledge swimming in his head, Draco felt his insides tighten with dread as silence enveloped them both physically and mentally. He gave a jerky nod, his palms beginning to sweat and fingers itching to grab his wand in a lousy attempt at self-defense. Her smile widened dramatically, several more teeth coming into view like a predator's maw.
"Splendid." She purred dangerously, "After all that, you decided the next logical course of action was to propose marriage or rather 'become the next Madame Malfoy'? Have I got that right?" she bit out angrily, her eyes thankfully clear of Cerridwen's presence but her hair sparking furiously nonetheless.
Draco's mouth turned to sand, his tongue thick and unmoving. He had been daft to think that method was even remotely appropriate. In his mind, he had argued that typical Pureblood customs obviously wouldn't have worked due to the lack of available time. Courtships took time, something he didn't have an abundance of. He had just wanted it to get done and over with. Pressure was continuing to build behind his eyes and his shoulders were already straining under the weight of it all. Knowledge was not just a mental weight like he thought it would be but a truly physical burden.
If she said no, which he fully expected her not to, then he would simply collapse and be absorbed by the raw power of Cerridwen's cauldron – becoming part of the knowledge himself. Or at least that's what he assumed happened. Cerridwen hadn't deigned to tell him what would actually happen if his offer was rejected. In the extraordinary circumstance that she just might say yes, he wondered if she would accept because she felt obligated. Yet, in the deepest, darkest corner of his soul where the very core of his magical being persisted, he hoped that just maybe she would do it out of love. Even if Cerridwen had deemed him worthy, it didn't mean Hermione would as well. Finally finding his voice, he gave murmur in the affirmative.
He watched as her face moved through a flurry of emotions. Confusion. Rage. Defeat. Hurt. That last one baffled him but he didn't have enough time to think before a flash of movement had him backing away defensively. When no hex, curse, or even a slap came his direction, he cautiously cracked open his eyes to find her back to him. He felt his chest tighten at the sight of her shoulders visibly trembling, the spark all but gone from her wild curls. He waited and watched, too panicked to move anywhere near her.
"Are you only asking me so you can get Cerridwen's knowledge out of your head?" came the soft cadence of her voice.
Of all the things Draco thought she would ask, it certainly wasn't that. He sat and stared dumbfounded at the back of her head. She whirled around and rushed towards him, her face ending merely inches from him. Draco felt him flinch at the sudden proximity which quickly begin to heat his veins when he felt her breath ghost across his face.
"I asked you a question and I suggest you answer it immediately." She demanded, her voice low and throaty.
"Th-that's not the only reason." He stammered out, trying to ignore her snort of derision, "I owe you a debt I can never repay. You are an extraordinary witch who saved me in more than one way and taught me that my line of thinking was utter bollocks. Even my mother recognized the raw talent and power you possessed. She saw your potential long before I pulled my head out of my arse. You've brought me some sense of peace that I thought I'd never experience again and made me feel like my life finally had some sense of purpose beyond what I had been told to believe. You are everything and more. Hermione, I…love you."
Those last words came out so quietly, he wasn't even sure he had spoken them aloud. Yet, they were shouting across the plane of mind. Crowed over and over, despite not expecting the words to form, he knew them to be true. He loved her deeply, without reason or end. She was his other half, the magical counterpart he was destined to spend the remainder of his days and beyond. It was in that moment, he finally understood the ancient love between Cerridwen and Tegid Foel. She was his queen and he would worship her til his body crumbled to dust.
She blinked once very slowly, painfully slow in his opinion. The chatter in her mind picking up to a dull uproar along with her lips moving soundlessly informed Draco that an epic argument was currently battling it out in her head. He felt oddly lighter now that he had spoken the words aloud. Like some sort of Calming Draught had settled on his previously frayed nerves. He had laid his soul bare before her, the final test of worthiness passed and Draco could have sworn he felt the ghost of Cerridwen's muted approval in the air.
Silence filled the void between them again and he focused on her eyes again, surprised to find them rimmed in unshed tears.
"You daft idiot of a wizard," she spoke, something like relief lacing the sound, "Of course I'll marry you."
Draco had no time to react as she launched herself at him, her lips crashing down on his. It was breathtakingly frantic, bruising, and felt like fire. He sat frozen a moment longer before his mind and body snapped back to the present and returned her kiss with an equally desperate strength. Merlin, she tasted like magic itself. His hands brushed over her arms and pulled her closer, pressing their chests together tightly. Her breath hitched slightly at the contact. Snaking a hand up, his fingers tangled in her thick curls as tongues probed against the seams of lips.
Giving in, she opened her mouth to him and they fought desperately to taste each other. She gave a soft nip on his bottom lip, an action that went straight to his groin. He groaned into her mouth, his finger clenching harder. Her hands found his hips and gripped hard, her nails digging into the fabric of his trousers. Trousers that were becoming more and more uncomfortable as she released his mouth and began peppering heated kisses along his jawline. She moaned as he tugged her head back and swept his tongue across her exposed collarbone. He knew his pupils were blown wide and he watched as her chest pushed upwards, eager to be touched and adored. Just a few languorous sweeps of his tongue with deft pull of fabric and he'd finally get to taste that soft expanse of skin he'd been dreaming of.
Without warning, a stinging arc of magic raced across the back of his eyes, the haze of lust dropping instantly like a fallen veil. He hissed sharply in pain, his fist clenching harder in her hair. She yelped in response, causing him to release her abruptly.
"Forgive me." He pleaded, his head hung in humiliation as he gently pushed her back onto the seat besides him, "Its not you, it's the pain of this knowledge. Believe me, I wouldn't have willingly stopped kissing you. You are everything I hoped and more."
Draco felt her soft hand brush cup his cheek tenderly and he pressed into the contact, anything to be closer to her. Merlin, what had he done to deserve such an extraordinary witch?
"Draco, look at me." She commanded.
He titled his head towards and watch as a real smile raised the corners of her mouth. A tear escaped and slid smoothly down her cheek as she gave a sound of choked happiness.
"I love you too."