Black Glass VI - Portals
- Taylor
A/N : Hi, guys. I'm feeling strange again. Please bear with me... and please review... I just got Harry Potter 4 and it was wonderful... I am now even firmer in declaring that Ron and Hermione were meant for each other... but I still love toying with Draco, the poor boy.
That most beautiful of quotes : "John, put on a decent shirt or Benjamin's parents will think you're gay!" - because John was wearing a girl's shirt...
A/N 2 : The poor boy is now in another state. Praised be. Not for long though... ::thinks gleefully of a very cruel friend-insertion::
Disclaimer : All of them belong to J. K. Rowling... blether, blether, blether
'What the hell are you doing here?' Draco grumbled, glaring at Harry, who glared back. Between them lay Hermione, her eyes closed and her breathing shallow. 'We'd best warm her up, Potter. She's frozen.'
'So are you,' Harry said pointedly, looking at Draco's bloodless face and shaking hands. 'Go and warm your hands at the lamp. It's the only warm thing in this place. I'll try to get her round.' He bent over Hermione as Draco edged closer, looking at her wan face, her eyelids that flickered rapidly but never opened.
'I said go and warm your hands, Malfoy!' Reluctantly Draco moved over to the lamp, holding his shivering hands over the flame, and feeling a searing pain. Harry was rubbing Hermione's hands in his, shaking her gently, calling her name. Her eyelids fluttered weakly and stopped. 'Her hands are freezing. Bring that poor excuse for a light over here.' Draco carried it over, looking out of the small glass window at the wind and snow howling outside. 'Thanks. What were you two doing out there, anyway?' Harry wrinkled his nose. 'Ugh! She smells of your cologne again! Malfoy, I'd swear on my Firebolt that you were kissing her.'
'Mmm,' Draco said noncommittally, rubbing her hands in turn.
'Malfoy...'
'OK! OK! So I did kiss her!' Draco exploded suddenly. 'Why do you have such a big problem with that?' He began to shake Hermione furiously. Harry stopped him with a hand to his arm as Hermione's eyes opened. Harry himself had rather wide-open eyes at this revelation. Malfoy, kissing Hermione? He had to be joking...
'Hmm?' Hermione said bemusedly, shaking her head slightly. 'It's so cold...'
Soon the three of them were huddled in a corner for warmth, Hermione in the middle and each of the boys at her shoulder. Harry and Draco glared malevolently at each other, Draco's fingers twined in Hermione's with her head resting on Harry's shoulder. The snow showed no sign of letting up.
'So where are we, anyway?' Hermione asked timidly, seeing the boys glare at each other.
'I don't know,' they responded simultaneously, then glared at each other. It was this empathy towards each other that made Hermione uneasy, a kind of sullen fraternity; tempers short, yet tied together somehow. This was making them extremely brusque. Getting up, she looked around, leaving the other two on the floor to collapse onto each other, knock their heads together, then jump up in turn, looking in disgust at the floor. The table was plain wood. Outside it was still snowing madly, and the little room where they were imprisoned was the remains of an old hut.
'We've got to get out,' Hermione muttered.
'How?' both boys asked at the same time, then glared. Harry ran his fingers through his already-mussed hair. 'I guess we'll just have to wait it out. There is absolutely no way that I am going to be able to get outside in this.'
'Protection spell?' Draco suggested, but Harry shook his head.
'I tried that, but it didn't work, because this snowstorm isn't an ordinary one.'
'I wonder will Ron come?'
Draco laughed shortly. 'Him?' Hermione whacked him lightly on the arm. 'Oh come on, Hermione, you know Weasley would freak at the sight of us in the same cabin.'
'He would not...'
'I think he would, Hermione,' Harry said softly. 'You know, this whole Draco thing is driving him bonkers.'
'Why should it?' Hermione asked defiantly, but she was flushing a little. 'Why should he mind what I do in my private time?' Draco was looking from Harry to her, a strange expression on his pointed face. He didn't say anything.
'He minds, Hermione,' Harry told her. 'He cares about you.'
'Then he should mind his own business!' Hermione insisted. Draco's silver eyes flitted from Harry back to Hermione, resting on her.
'He's jealous,' said Harry flatly.
Hermione flushed darkly, and said nothing.
'Hermione,' Draco whispered in her ear, 'are you all right?'
'No,' she said with a small sigh, 'but I'll be all right. I'll be all right. We have to think of some way to get out of here.'
They stared out of the open window bleakly, wondering when and how help would come.
Professor Minerva McGonagall hurried along the corridor, footsteps echoing along the cold stone walls. In her hand she held the letter, Tom Riddle's letter to Draco. She walked fast and almost blindly, seeming not to notice the cold and annoyed poltergeist who zoomed off in disgust, wondering why he could not get a rise out of the stern professor today. She spoke the password and entered her office, sitting down at the desk and opening the letter once more.
Tom Riddle. His entire personality jumped out as she reread the letter, light glinting off her glasses. A nagging feeling of cold made itself vaguely known, but she ignored it, and sat straight-backed in the chair uncomfortably. It was very like him... all the words could have been him, standing in front of her and mocking her. She could almost see him now.
How old was he now, and what was he like? She had never seen him, only Potter and Dumbledore, and perhaps Cedric - but she remembered him, and that memory was painful. Calmly and quite deliberately she placed her hands on the parchment and pulled.
It tore satisfyingly, and Minerva threw it into a corner -
- only to have it zoom back onto the table, whole again.
She cursed softly and looked out of the window. Snow was still falling.
Draco slept fitfully, his eyelids flickering and his mind spinning. He turned slightly, Hermione beside him, and his foot landed on a board. The sound that ensued was a loud hollow knock.
Draco awoke suddenly, his grey eyes wide. That hollow sound -! He crawled slowly over to the board and Hermione collapsed gently onto Harry. Happens a lot, Draco thought sourly, rubbing the sore spot on his head where it had connected with Harry's glasses. He knocked on the board.
A hollow sound rang dully around the four walls.
Draco lifted the loose board slightly and discovered a small pouch. Pushing his slender fingers through the gap, he pulled it out gently and replaced the board. Curious, he opened the pouch, finding small silver Sickles and one strange black, shimmering stone. The stone was icy cold and he dropped it hurriedly. It rolled along the wooden floor, coming to a stop at Hermione's feet.
'Wellforheaven'ssake...' He let out a frustrated breath and picked it up, wincing. He'd heard of this thing, heard his father talking of it, and he knew what it was - an Opener.
'Open up,' he tried, and nothing happened.
'Alohomora,' he whispered.
There was a freezing gust and suddenly the boards in the middle of the floor disappeared as though they had never been there before. Instead there was a gaping hole, and slowly, very slowly, stairs began to form in the hole. Draco jumped back hurriedly and fell right over, landing on top of Harry. There was a muffled gasp and then a loud groan. Harry sat up and Draco rolled off him, clutching his ankle.
'Malfoy -!' Harry stopped suddenly, and Draco knew that he had seen the staircase. 'But how -?'
Draco held out the black stone, switching it from hand to hand and wincing a little. 'It's an Opener. Someone stowed it in the loose board over there -' He pointed, and as Harry's gaze followed his finger, realised that there were no boards there. 'Never mind. Potter, we should have a look.'
'OK. And wake her up - we can't leave her here alone.'
'Always the little gentleman,' mocked Draco, but all the same he bent gently over Hermione and shook her awake. She blinked, her eyes opening, and Draco helped her to her feet. Harry was surprised to find a pang of what could only be called jealousy run through him.
'Thought you were going to do the Sleeping Beauty act,' he said rather nastily to Draco, who looked at him puzzledly. Hermione was shivering again. Draco explained the stairway to her in an undertone, and she nodded, taking the stone from him and holding it in her hands. He protested, and Harry found himself feeling rather nauseous as Draco insisted on burning his fingers. Still, it was rather amusing to see Draco so attached to her.
They descended the staircase slowly, Harry first, holding the lamp, then Draco and Hermione. They walked alongside each other, pale-faced. The stairs ended and they walked into darkness, illuminated eerily by the lamp. The shadows of light that flickered across Hermione's face took on a life of their own, illuminating the hollows and curves of her face. The flickering lamplight seemed to have a perverse attitude towards Draco, though - his pale thin face looked as though it had been carved out of stone, especially those granite eyes. Their steps rang out and suddenly they were at a well, with shimmering black water inside. There was a bucket in the depths.
Draco felt for the pouch with the coins in it. Dry-mouthed, he held it out to Harry. 'A portal, I think,' he mouthed, seemingly unable to produce any sound. Hermione took his hand reassuringly. 'Drop one in and state your destination. I think this is a plan - my f-father...' His muttering grew softer. Harry nodded, but before he could toss a Sickle into the well Draco stopped him with a hand to his arm. 'I want to do something, Potter, just hand me a Sickle.'
Harry gave him a silver coin, and the slender boy tossed it in, bowing his head. A strange light came from the depths and went out. Harry had never seen him so serious before. His silver hair drifted over his face as he straightened. Giving him a curious look, Harry threw a Sickle into the dark water and called out, 'Hogwarts!'
Nothing happened.
'Jump in, Potter.'
Harry looked at Draco, then all three joined hands and stepped onto the edge. They sat down, then slid into the icy water. It was cold... so cold...
The last cognisant thought Draco had was: Damn!
Draco came to in the Gryffindor common room. He lay by the fire, his hair half-wet, next to Harry and Hermione, who were still unconscious. The other Gryffindors were clustered around Harry and Hermione, but none seemed to want to touch him.
He sat up with a groan, and the Gryffindors gasped. Then finally they surrounded him cautiously, asking, 'How did you get here? What were you doing? - You just appeared like that - Professor McGonagall's coming, Lavender just went to call her...'
Professor McGonagall? Draco thought. He groaned again. His head ached like there was no tomorrow. He crawled over to Hermione and realised with horror that she was holding the stone, and her fingers were blistered.
'Oh Hermione no should have put it down,' he muttered incoherently, a string of words floating out of his mouth effortlessly. His ability to speak in complete sentences had apparently disappeared. Her fellow Gryffindors stared at him in disbelief as he pulled the stone out of her hands and winced as it burnt his fingers.
'What are you doing?' breathed one of the Gryffindor girls, who had always irritated Draco. Irritably he replied:
'Handling a dangerous Dark Arts stone, so back off or I'll throw it at you.'
The Gryffindors gasped and moved away. Draco was rather perversely pleased. He watched as Hermione's eyes opened, her lashes fluttering lightly. He drew a breath, knowing that if he let one little word slip from his mouth around her the Gryffindors would be all over him.
His life would be officially over.
She sat up, and then Harry's eyes opened as well. He sat up straight away, then began to blink rapidly. Doubtless he was feeling as horrible as Draco was. His fellow students crowded round him, leaving Draco alone, trying to escape the pounding in his head that seemed to want to spin incessantly round and round and round for God's sake when would it all be over?
He crawled out of the portrait hole and up to the Astronomy tower. It was the only place he could think of to sleep off this veil of misery.
He and Harry recovered rather quickly from the light-headedness - only an hour for Harry, and three for himself - but it was not the same for Hermione. She spent two days in the infirmary. Draco realised that he had after all been exposed to the Dark Arts rather more than he had thought, and Harry of course... Hermione, on the other hand, had never really been exposed to the Dark Arts. It was rather like the first ride on an aeroplane.
'I'm here to visit Hermione.' The little spiel with the lamp didn't seem to have let up yet - his face seemed even more sharp-featured and cold than ever. Ron gave him a sharp jab in the ribs and he amended reluctantly, 'We're here to see Hermione.' Madam Pomfrey let them in with a rather reprimanding air. She, like the rest of the school, had heard the stories about them being caught in the storm with Hermione. Rumours abounded. Harry was taking it rather well - the school knew he was a respected Gryffindor, and hadn't he saved them from Voldemort more than once? No, Draco got all the suspicion, dirty jokes and dark looks from Hermione's many friends. Perfect Potter with his perfect reputation.
They stood by her bed, not speaking. She had not yet woken up. She looked so perfect in her sleep, Draco thought. She might not be drop-dead gorgeous, but still, she was enough for him. He knew Potter knew it, and it was the only reason he let Draco come along when they visited her. He'd never be able to get in alone. Ron was taking him along, albeit reluctantly, because Harry had a detention with Snape in the dungeons.
Ron took her hand. 'Hermione,' he said, his voice soft. 'Hermione.'
'Let her sleep,' Draco interposed. Ron gave him a dirty look, but subsided. They stood there, looking at her. Draco felt very foolish, then realised it was not good to feel foolish around a - Weasley. He felt the old smirk return to his face, then hurriedly straightened it out. 'Maybe we should talk to her.'
'Talk to her? You going barmy? She's unconscious!'
'Haven't you heard anything on medicine?' Draco said in a lofty tone, not betraying how his voice was threatening to shake. 'It apparently helps people in comas.'
'What's a -' Ron caught himself just in time. 'All right then - if it'll help.' The boys knelt beside her bed together, still not saying anything. Draco felt very awkward.
'Go on, Weasley. She knows you better.'
Ron muttered, 'I'm not so sure about that any more,' and clutched her hand, whispering into her ear. Draco thought he saw Ron's lips form the words 'Iloveyou' but couldn't be sure.
A thought came to him then. That well - Tom Riddle must be using it as a portal into Hogwarts! Horrified, Draco burst from the hospital wing, skidding around the corridors, looking for Professor McGonagall.
And he had forgotten to tell her... and he had forgotten to tell her...
As Ron watched silently from beside the white sheets, a single tear dropped onto Hermione's pale hand.
A/N : There's a screw loose in my head! Sorry about the wait, guys, I had enormous writers block and an overdose of Dizzy Up The Girl. I hope you enjoyed that.