Chapter Eight: Natura Nihil Frustra Facit
The Oak fought the wind and was broken, the willow bent when it must and survived.
-Robert Jordan-
May 16, 2009.
How much can one give until they can no more?
The tipping point; a question of when.
At what point can or does one say, "I have reached my limits. I have no more in me."?
The reaffirmation that enough is enough.
Putting oneself above all.
Even duty.
For Hermione, that should have been now.
Or an hour ago, when Harry stood in front of her justifying the course of actions set forth.
The power of the fleeting seconds required no effort to propel her life into the midst of chaos, yet once again.
This is the epitome of sacrifice.
For years their decisions were justified as for the "greater good." The spin that The Order put on the ethically ambiguous. Why call a spade a spade when they can extenuate the deed? Whatever helps them sleep at night.
Just a bunch of pawns.
This ends if she no longer plays. Where would that leave her though?
Locked up and forgotten because there were plenty of more pressing issues. Understaffed and lacking hardworking employees, the Ministry of Magic is at the verge of crumbling had it not been for the few individuals who dedicate their lives to ensure that the necessary is done. The various departments are merely a formality. Any free and trustworthy worker is deployed to get what needs to be done. Fires to put away and a war to be fought were just the tip of the iceberg. Inspired by the triaging system, work is delegated. The urgency depends on the possible effect or threat imposed on the community.
Tasked to an incompetent Ministry worker, she might just have to spend months, if not years, before a solution is found for her current predicament.
What mattered was containing her, warranting that they were safe and no further plans were foiled.
One that they had finally succeeded in.
The message loud and clear.
Public safety, at whatever cost deemed necessary.
The grating of a chair broke the silence that warped the room.
The cell.
A bare 4 foot by 4 foot of area furnished with only the concrete she slumped on. The atmosphere reeked of Dark Magic, pain and horror. The wall behind her back had indentations of scratches and bite marks. Her imagination runs rampant of who could have been in this very spot in the past and what atrocities were they accused of?
Did they make it out alive?
Were they tortured till they were no more than a shell of the person they used to be?
How long did it take before they caved and let their captors hear what they needed to hear?
Are there any other prisoners just a few feet away from her?
Clambering on the concrete, she grasped at thin air struggling to fill her lungs.
Inhale. Exhale.
No.
This should not be happening right now. Bile rose to her throat as she heaved to her side, retching. Hugging the cold concrete under her, she focused on the misting barely visible in the dark. A deep inhale and a deep exhale, all while observing the area of misting. The indication that her lungs are functioning and she is alive.
For now, at least.
No source of light in sight, except for the lamp that hovered in mid-air to announce the impending arrival of her guests. Left in pitch black for hours after Harry's impromptu visit, she bleared at the four wizards gracing her with their presence.
Her captors.
A wandless vanishing spell cleared the mess and smell away. The small glass of water appearing with a loud pop had Hermione flinch to an upright position. The sudden movement caused a searing pain across her abdomen, slumping her body against the wall behind her. No one addressed the obvious lack of energy, but the subtle movement of the water glass towards her must have been their way of acknowledging it. Busying themselves to their seats, offered Hermione the reprieve of not being observed as she gulped down every drop of water in that tiny glass.
A perfunctory nod from Malfoy catapulted the discussion.
Percy levelled a stern glance at the man as he began, "Let's address the elephant in the room, shall we? Going forth, Hermione is sacrificing her entire future as this will most definitely not be ephemeral. While the protection from the Matrimonial bonds of the Malfoy Family is the safest and only option for her to be broken free from their influence, it undeniably shackles her down in ways that we cannot comprehend. It is not a big ask for further clarification of how the bonding would take place and what it entitles given the scarce literature available on the matter at hand."
Ball was in his court as everyone awaited Malfoy's explanation.
Dressed in formal mourning robes, hands clasped behind his back, Malfoy stood solitary at the corner with his constant armour; blank face with a rigid posture. Declining the seat conjured by Percy, he did not join the others, choosing to isolate himself from the downcast reacquaintance. Minutes passed silently while Harry's impertinent glances to Nott, who was also dressed in his formal mourning robes, were met with a similar expression of impassiveness. Hermione noticed the subtle signs of irritation from Percy too, in the form of clenched fist and the two lines appearing on his forehead, claiming permanent residence there.
The naive expectation of discussion to flow with ease was their biggest blunder. Another setup for yet another failure. She was wiser, though. Her limited interactions with the two men did not leave her with much except that they are not ones to leap into the fray. Weighing the pros and cons, considering all imaginable probabilities, they were meticulous at decision making as well as speaking. They do not yield their silence to establish their authority.
It is a tool of their wisdom.
One that Hermione herself is familiar with.
"There are many Matrimonial Rites exclusive to the Malfoy Family. The proposed being the strongest of them all, with its caviar. It entitles her with the protection of generations of Malfoys' Magic and most importantly, mine." Malfoy spoke detachedly indicating his shared enthusiasm at what is to come.
At least they agree on something.
There will be no applause, no drinks poured and no music.
She had long given up the hopes of walking down the aisle with her dad by her side as From This Moment On plays out, leaving no dry eyes at sight. That dream died the moment she decided to obliviate her parents to give them a future. A happy life, free of worry, filled with laughter and joy. Most importantly, safe. She had hoped that she would at least be blessed with a marriage as supportive, happy and healthy as theirs.
Princess fairytales are just that. Fiction. Fleeting, ephemeral and pretty.
Dreams do not always come true.
The harsh reality of life.
Now, it is clear that her husband will never catch his breath when he finally sees her dressed in the dress that made her feel like the most beautiful woman on Earth. She would have been the picture of elegance.
He would never whisper how beautiful she looks when she finally joins him at the altar.
She will never fall in love with her husband all over again as she gets lost in his eyes while he says his vows. His promise. His dedication to her.
She will never be embraced by her mother-in-law who will declare how happy she is, for finally getting the daughter she dreamt of.
They will not dance under the moonlight, lost into each other's eyes as the rest of the world fades away. She will never feel the sense of belonging to someone she chose knowing and accepting him for who he is, the good and the bad.
Her other half.
"As the new Mrs. Malfoy, she will have respect from the Purebloods regardless of her blood status. That will open the doors that had been firmly shut purely out of spite and on the basis of all the ideologies fueled by generations of racism. In a nutshell, she would have the Wizarding World in the palm of her hand. She need not work a day in her life, but should she choose to, she would have the guarantee of success in any field. If that isn't enough, the fact that the Dark Lord himself needed my father's consent to inflict any harm, even the Unforgivables, on my mother should surpass justification for why this is the best and only option." Pausing slightly, he seemed to debate on adding more, all the while staring at a point above her head.
Her captor turned saviour.
With every word tumbling out of his mouth, the shame of marriage was evidently nothing more than a deal for the greater good.
"Concerning the bonding, while I am not overly superstitious, I intend to follow the Malfoy Tradition. Always done at either the first light or the last, it would be the best to get it done earliest possible, at the Drawing Room-"
"No. Anywhere, but-" Harry shot up from his seat protesting on behalf of Hermione who took a sharp breath as soon as the location was mentioned. She was transported back to the room with Bellatrix hunched over her, knife mutilating her hand while her future husband stood a few feet away, watching.
The scars tell the story of when life attempted to break her but failed.
The markings of where the structure of who she is was welded.
The torture she faced from her in-laws.
"Yes. There. Unless you want Granger to sacrifice one more thing." Malfoy retorted hotly, glaring at the wizard who shook his head adamantly, a few seconds away from interrupting again.
Ready to go to war when he didn't, all these years.
Why now though?
Is guilt eating Harry inside out or was it him doing his job as her next of kin? Ensuring that she's taken care of. People do different things to protect those they love. Every hard decision is taken on the merit of what is the best, but is it because of love or duty?
"We are aware of what took place in that room. However, that is one of the only three places in this manor where her blood has been shed." Shooting up from his seat with the wand ready, Nott continued.
Calculating gaze on the jet-black-haired man, who was at the seams of unravelling, halted his speech to stare at Malfoy before elaborating. No one tried to guise her future husband's reticence for the much-needed clarification.
The pitying look Nott directed at her spoke volumes.
"It cannot be done at a wing where a prior Matrimonial Bonding of any form has taken place which rules out this wing and the wing that is a crumbling mess at the moment. In addition to this, the bond in discussion is one that requires the blood sacrifice. Does it need to be spelled out further or do you have adequate knowledge about the intricacies of such bonds to draw a tangent to reach the point?" Nott swiftly stepped in between Harry and Malfoy to douse the fire threatening to blaze.
The sensitive significant detail that Nott dared not utter ricocheted off the walls.
Of course, it is the sacrifice of virgin blood.
Hermione snorted at the irony of the archaic protection bestowed on her. The security from the vilest form of racism in the Wizarding World, at the price of sexism and the age-old belief of the evidence of the purity of a woman.
Whether she was a lady or a harlot.
"Heaven forbid Malfoy to marry someone who is not pure. Nothing less than a virginal blushing bride for the Malfoy men, huh? Forget my hymen status, but how confident are you that the said bond won't retaliate because I am a mudblood?"Her voice was weak, but her tone did not hide her disdain. Vitriol seeped through, as she broke the silence she had been holding while others puppeteered her life.
Life has a way of having the unexpected barrel through the door, but this is beyond the wildest probabilities. Held captive in the Malfoy Manor, she is discussing entwining her life with her childhood bully. This is not hashing out the fine details of their impending nuptials.
This is a life sentence.
Divorce, while still uncommon in the Wizarding World, could happen provided that the Matrimonial Bond grants the scope to do so. Not a point of contention to most of the Halfbloods and Muggleborns, as they do not partake in upholding anachronistic traditions that mostly place restrictions on the wife and hardly any on the husband. Eager to steer clear of the complexities and controversies associated with Magical Bondings, pre-nuptials have become yet another thing adopted from the Muggle culture which kept both parties satisfied and protected.
Gender equity is disregarded when it pertains to ancient Matrimonial Bonds as the purpose was to ensure that the wife obeys her husband.
The Pureblood Matrimony is the last form of legal human slavery in the Wizarding World.
Passed on like a cattle, Hermione scoffed at the mental image of the sacrificial lamb.
"We do not have the time to go through the intricacies of the bond. I swear on my magic that no harm will fall on you during the bonding." A spark of light erupted from his left hand and engulfed Malfoy before sinking into his chest.
He did not so much as flinch while the rest did.
Within milliseconds any scope she had to concede this farcical arrangement was robbed from her. Desolate and bereft warped her as she tried to reign the wounded cry threatening to escape. She could hear Harry and Malfoy spewing words angrily with Percy and Nott immediately stepping into the mediator roles, but none of it mattered.
She stared down at her hands, her life flashing before her as she recanted the time spent under the tutelage of the Dark Force. The destruction she could possibly cause deserved no mercy from the juror that mattered; the public.
Not when it is her magic that is the criminal.
Despite the Dark Force having her under their power, the magnitude of damage depends entirely on her own magic. The limitations solely depend on the capability of her own magical core.
Case in point; the four walls confining her.
Feminism be damned for the only refuge was by the one family reeking of Male Supremacy. If these blood wards can keep her momentarily out of reach of the Dark Force, the Matrimonial Bond would at least extend her the courtesy of being no longer treated as a captive in the eyes of The Order.
She would be afforded with the privilege of privacy that she has been deprived of, for years. Both by the Dark Forces and The Order. Most importantly, she will be free, albeit with the restrictions that come with the Matrimonial Bond.
Beggars can't be choosers.
"I will do it!" Hermione's decision cut through the cacophony of dissension, commanding the attention of the four men who had their wands drawn, ready to fire.
"I don't care." Raising a hand at Harry's protest, she continued. Voice quivering as tears fell down her damp cheeks.
"We do this. We do this and I will be out of their influence and out of your way. You can send me off to a safe house or have me here in the manor, that is fine. I will help in whatever way I can, when and if asked and I will keep out of everyone's way if need be. Please, at least give me autonomy over my body and mind. I will do anything-"
Hermione crumbled when the familiar arms engulfed her only to be deprived of it within seconds. Sinking back against the wall, tear distorted vision failed to hinder the mask of indifference on her fiancé who tossed Harry away from her.
"I said no fraternising before the agreement was concluded." His voice betrayed a hint of irritation all the while acting as though they were discussing the weather.
Seeker's reflex kicked in as he dodged Harry's right hook without as much as a flinch.
"It is concluded. She is signing her life to you, you fucking prick. Didn't you hear her? She's yours to obey and comma-" Malfoy had Harry up against the wall as soon as the words escaped him.
"I implore you to continue that sentence. We do not need to be fucking buddies but do not for one second assume that I will treat her with less than what she deserves. This is morally grey in fucked up magnitudes, but from the moment the betrothal was finalised, she is going to be treated with the respect that is benefitted to Lady Malfoy both by the public and me."
Not budging an inch despite Harry doubling down in his grip, he heaved heavily as Nott whispered in his ears. Might as well have spoken it out loud, for the silence carried his voice over to Hermione.
Tension threatened to uncoil him while Nott subtly tried to reason. "This isn't helping anyone. There is much to be done. You do not owe anyone any explanation or justification, except your fiancée who is still sitting in a pool of her own blood, wounded and starving. The sooner you get this done, the faster she can be healed and the necessary arrangements made. She gains freedom and you get Scorpius back. The rest is insignificant today."
The lack of response by Malfoy did not deter Nott. Gripping his shoulder, Nott forcibly stepped between him and Harry, prompting him to release his hold. Moving away, he resumed his initial post still silent, but his eyes burning in fury.
The steel grey eyes sent shivers down her spine giving a glimpse of the roar contained.
"I do not expect anything more than your assistance to retrieve Scorpius immediately following the bonding when our magical cores are depleted completely, as per tradition, for it to be fused intricately. Momentarily, of course. It renders us with less of a magical signature than a squib even, which will allow you to enter the cave that is holding my two-year-old son hostage." Hermione had a sudden flashback of holding his son in her arms filled with an overwhelming desire to protect the child at all costs. Her heart ached at the thought of the little child spending another day away from his family.
All alone.
Held captive in his own home.
Just like her.
"I have done my research and the portrait confirmed my findings. Any Muggle or Muggleborn with barely discernible magical reserves can enter the cave. The cave leads to the village from the other side which is a 20 minutes journey. It isn't a difficult track and Zabini will meet you at the other end. You can rest or eat, if you wish to, before journeying back here for as long as Scorpius is within your sight at all times. Bring my son back to me and I do not ask you for anything more, apart from upholding the Malfoy name in the public. What you choose to do with your time and talents is entirely up to you, for as long as you are safe."
To be fair, the rest of the night passed away in a flurry.
Percy presented with the final draft of the Marriage Contract, again a mandatory tradition, that she signed without bothering to even read through.
Her mind was set.
If this is the last mission for The Order, then so be it.
Perfer et obdura; dolor hic tibi proderit olim.
Dreams.
They are one's realities in waiting.
All the seeds one plants over several years, thriving to bear fruits of one's hard work in the future. One day, hopefully. Each is planted with meticulous care and for a purpose.
The path to one's future.
No matter how intricately it is planned, life is a winding path. One that does not allow shortcuts, but permits detours. One can plan and make contingencies upon contingencies, but an overlooked fact is that life encompasses variables that are beyond one's imagination. Broadly classified into two, in a desperate attempt to simplify life while looking through the rose-tinted glasses, making it easier to be hopeful for the future.
A wonderful stroke of luck when preparations meet opportunities. Be it an unexpected blessing or the ultimate product of giving 100% to a task, it is the term that indicates things turning out for the better.
Karma. The distaste the word leaves in one's mouth is paltry in comparison to the havoc it leaves behind. It is the universe dealing one with the deserving cards. What goes around comes around.
If only it was as simple as that.
Wincing at the sight of house elves bustling around the cell filling a bathtub with warm water, Hermione was at a loss of how to categorise whatever this is. Ten years from now, looking back, how would she describe the turn of events?
Signed on the dotted lines an hour ago, she has sealed her fate.
It was for the best.
It was the right thing to do.
It was her only option.
"Mistress. Polly take your gown." Polly held her hands expectedly, unaware of the unease that gripped Hermione. Sure, there was no one at sight, but the thought of having a bath where anyone could walk in had her clutching her gown even harder. Her protests and insistence on skipping the bath were ignored as Polly explained Master Draco's instructions.
The first is that she is to be referred to, appropriately.
To have a house elf tend to you is one thing, but to have a Manor full of house elves bound to serve her for life was another thing. As the Founder and Leader of S.P.E.W this was hypocritical of her. The numerous legislations she pushed to be implemented, now mocking her. How can she champion her cause while being associated with the Malfoy Family, one that she brutally extirpated publicly for decades of Elfish abuse? The fact is, this now is a conflict of interest.
Time to pass on the mantle, before being cast out.
Another flicker of trouble brewing. Promising an endless headache and the wrath of the public. However, she had to compartmentalise, for there was much to be done.
As instructed.
A bath followed by a soak in Murtlap essence.
Pronto.
"Would Mistress feel better if Polly closed her eyes? Master Draco said Mistress is to take a bath. He also said that he grows weary with the delay so to hurry up." Prattling on about Master Draco this, Master Draco that, Polly spelled open her gown and held her hands expectedly.
Couple more glances at the surrounding had Polly station one house elf outside her cell to notify them of any arrivals. That did help to quell her anxieties, but her trepidation did not subside. Her mind a jumbled mess, she could not grasp at one particular issue to logically dissect her apprehensions.
Get a grip!
Hermione clenched her fists tightly as she felt the familiar sensation of panic consume her.
Tumbling down she went. Her soul was screaming, while her body failed on her.
Again.
A hand seized her chin before a potion was forced down her throat. She did not see who it was, but as the roaring strike of her heart quietened, she heard the sound of disapparation.
The world is now quiet for her tired soul. Her intuition once again audible over her fears.
With the help of other house elves, Polly easily coaxed her into the tub.
She was docile.
"Mistress."
Hermione swatted the hand poking her. Her response inarticulate, the poking did not subside. She did not understand why she was being disturbed from what undoubtedly is the best rest she had in a long while.
She was floating away, her body resting.
Finally.
"Slowly."
A curt directive cut through the fog that descended in her mind. She was no longer floating, her back against something sturdy.
Cold.
A sharp contrast to the warmth supporting her neck, coaxing her to drink. A fleeting sensation of gentle massaging before the warmth was withdrawn. Her mind slowly rewired; now more aware of everything. The bitter taste in her mouth hinted that she was gulping down a Blood Replenishing Potion.
Her discordant mind, blackened with anguish and precariousness released its unforgiving grip with a lingering caution of its impromptu arrival in the future.
Optimum est pati quod emendare non possis.
"Granger."
Her eyes flew wide open as she registered the voice.
"Breathe."
His figure blocked the only source of light, but his pale skin had a luminescence of its own. Standing over her, his eyes scanning her from head-to-toe. She felt scorched under the intense scrutiny.
"Polly informed me when you remained unresponsive."
He offered as an explanation, not mentioning the flush of redness on her face. The inkling that this is not the first time he had witnessed her mental breakdown added to her chagrin.
Something that can be used against her.
Power; the greatest of which is knowing one's weakness.
The Achilles heel.
"The lack of nutrition and ongoing blood loss is draining your strength. Your wound, needs to be closed before the ceremony." In spite of the conspicuousness, this is the first time anyone addressed her diminishing strength, a consequence of the events and restrictions placed upon her.
"It keeps opening up. Your mother tried several times. The numbing cream she gave helps as long as I move with care." Her voice barely a whisper, insinuated agreement with the stated obvious.
It was quite surreal to be discussing her well-being with the person who used to relish every little misfortune she faced. Regardless of the evident certainty that the man standing beside her is no longer a shell of the misguided boy he was, it is impossible to not ponder the stark juxtaposition of his former self and current self.
Which is his true authentic self? The reality is that she does not know either of them or have the time to dissect the enigma that is Draco Malfoy.
He was a closed book.
The only emotion he brazenly displayed was fury. He was a storm brewing at a distance leaving the rest apprehensive of when he would strike and even more weary of the destruction that would be left behind. If she was the ticking bomb to The Order, he was the nuclear weapon. Armed with the knowledge that is considered folklore and skill that is legendary, he was the wild card that she will be tied to, till death do them part.
"I am aware. However, you cannot go on with this unresolved for long, let alone get through the bonding. Now that we are betrothed, there is a ritual that claims to heal any injury, no matter how dark. If you consent, it can be attempted." Hermione could not conceal her astonishment at the amount of time he must have spent on a task that others had deemed unnecessary. Apart from Narcissa Malfoy and Minerva, there were several trained with Dark Magic Healing residing in the Manor, but no one stepped into the role. Obviously engaged with the tasks delegated to them, Hermione did not fault them for the lack of assistance.
Had they been allowed to, they would; or so she assumed.
Regardless, for Malfoy to expend his time on this was unexpected. Was this him fulfilling his duties to her, or was there an ulterior motive? Narrowing her eyes at his mentioning of their betrothal, Hermione asked, in spite of having an inkling regarding the nature of the ritual. "I am guessing it is a blood ritual?"
Anyone who knew Hermione Granger knew her stance on blood magic. It was a grotesque, ethically questionable and at times inhumane practice that should not be dabbled in, unless in dire circumstances. Once performed, alters the magical signature of the caster and those who are affected, leaving behind lingering effects that are vaguely described. Having had Blood Magic performed on her already by Malfoy, she is wary of the complications following another ritual. Specifically, one that can only be performed between betrothed couples.
It did not take long for the axe to fall.
"Naturally. It is also intimate." His unusually plaintive tone stirred her suspicion, she prodded when he did not specify.
"Intimate how?"
"It claims that the fresh and willingly given blood and essence of the uninjured can heal the injured half of two who are one."
"Essence as in-" Hermione croaked, turning red at the mere thought of it.
"Yes."
Air rushed out of her lungs hearing him say it.
"Sex magic?" The confirmation sent her spiralling.
"I would keep on researching to find an alternative, but the time is drawing nearer and this is the only one that has been backed up, with substantial evidence, the most. It is a branch of magic that has a bad reputation due to obvious reasons, but its efficacy is proven in relation to the current predicament." His unprompted explanation was the only indication of his reservations about what was suggested. To know that this was the last resort for him too, was comforting. Adding his offer for continuing the research despite the pressing time made his efforts even more commendable.
Not wanting to come across as difficult, but at the same time, needing further clarification, she stammered, words muffled by the hand running across her face. Recently reverted, annoying habit of her childhood; a dead giveaway of her nerves to anyone who truly knew her.
"Well, um, we are not bonded yet, so er, after?"
The thought of an audience being present, made her wish she never regained consciousness. There were certain aspects of the Wizarding World that continue to befuddle her. Traditions and customs she knew with certainty that she will never be part of, until now.
This is the sine qua non.
"Now. The bonding is to be taken a quarter to an hour. When the bonding is completed, it will seal in, provided that the required is still present at the site of the injury."
"Right."
Questions plagued her mind, but time was of the essence. The harsh reality is that there are no other viable options.
As of right now.
"I shall return back to researching." Swiftly turning on his heels, he strode out of the perimeters of her containment, not fazed by her reservations to the solution provided.
"Wait!" Hermione could feel her heart pounding in her ears. Gathering whatever courage she had left, she proposed. "Can we try?"
"If that is what you want." His unnerving stare had her recant her decision.
Almost.
"It is. Is there enough time though?" She might be untouched, but she is well-versed with the physiology of what is required. They are long past the age of over-excited fumbling and a long way to premature endings. If the rumours were correct, Draco Malfoy's skills extend even to the bedroom.
"There is."
Meeting his stare for the first time since the conversation took a turn, Hermione knew that surprise was written all over her face. "Oh."
"I will be taking a potion."
"Right, of course. I didn't mean to imply-" This was beyond mortifying and they are just only discussing it.
"I am not doing this standing over you." Grey eyes latched on her as he stepped into her personal space.
Hermione wiped her hand on her robe, willing to hide the clamminess, apparent nerves threatening to ravage her composure. Steeling herself, she placed her hand in the hand hovering above her while avoiding his gaze. Grateful for the help, she resembled a mass of lump manoeuvred upright to be supported by a steady hand behind her back.
The sudden rush of blood into her head had her stumbling in his arms. With surprising ease she found herself tucked into his side, warmth seeping through the flimsy robe she clung on to. Her head lolled onto his chest, a sign that she was on the brink of collapse. The steady beating of his heart was oddly soothing despite the palpable tension in the room.
"Close your eyes." She felt the words rumble through his chest rather than hear him saying them. It wasn't necessary though, the full force of lethargy hit her with the change in posture.
She felt her robe part, causing her to weakly grip it together. The feeble attempt was sufficient to stop the man. Attestation of a true gentleman. Words she would never have associated with him.
Hermione blinked back the tears anticipating a reprimand for her uncooperativeness. Percy's departure words, hours ago, stressing the importance of her cooperation rang loudly in her ears. A directive that was issued by everyone who graced her presence afterwards.
Her compliance was ordered by the Ministry of Magic, the Order of Phoenix and the International Confederation of Wizards.
The governing bodies of the Wizarding World.
"I need to- Direct contact is necessary." Malfoy cleared his throat but said no more.
The ball is in her court.
The privilege of saying no is granted to her, in blatant violation of the said understanding amongst the most powerful and influential bodies of the Wizarding World. No doubt that Malfoy would be able to douse any fires that result, but to withdraw her initial acceptance on the basis of discomfiture is immature. Particularly when he had seen her in various states of undress during his previous attempts to heal her.
All too aware that unlike before, she is wearing nothing but her robe, Hermione moved her hand to grip the robe at her lower stomach, trying to at least conserve her modesty down there. She knew she was turning bright red as the robe was parted exposing her top to the man anchoring her to his side.
The cool air instantly causes her nipple to harden, her shallow and rapid breaths the only sound audible.
"Deep breaths."
Malfoy murmured in her ears. A warm hand engulfed her side, withdrawing immediately when she flinched. His fingers coated in blood, he had placed his hand directly over her wound. The sharp contrast of his warmth caused an agonising pain articulated by her cry.
The reminder of how long she has been "handling" it. Her body's way of screaming that she would never be the same. Wounds heal, scars fade, but memories never will.
Not as long as she has complete control of her mind.
This suffering is not optional.
Dots appeared in her vision slowly enlarging to seize her field of vision.
"... hardly anytime to walk her through the rigmarole of the ritual or what is to come. Your silence on this matter then was taken as tacit agreement to this….."
Hermione laid on the marble observing the sky painting on the blank canvas. Droning out her husband's and bestfriend's bickering, she breathed in deeply, choosing to stare through the transparent roof of the Drawing Room. Making notes of the similarities from the last time she laid in that very spot, bleeding to the brink of death.
Yet again, she could smell the rusty metal odour of blood before she saw it. Surrounding her, rather than lying in it this time. Blood Magic once again to contain her. The subtle tightening of the hands gripping the wands pointed at her, an indication of leaving nothing to chance, despite Malfoy's assurance that she is no longer under the power of the Dark Force. Not as long as he was breathing.
Once a prisoner, always a criminal.
The dawn continued to shed the skin of the night signifying the passage of time. The Grandfather Clock somewhere in the room ticking away loudly demanding to assert its dominance and reminding everyone of the fleeting seconds. It is probably selfish of her to hope that more time would be spent quarrelling just so that they themselves have a better understanding of what the loss is like.
Years.
Opportunities.
Life.
Each loss rearranged her world.
Tearing her down slowly.
She was present, but not really present in so many special events of her life. The list keeps on growing, the recent addition being her own wedding.
The strong clutches of unconsciousness holding her captive incidentally worked to their favour enabling them to forego the precautionary actions that would have otherwise been taken to ensure that she did not turn into dynamite once moved from her cell. Everyone must have breathed out a sigh being relieved of their guarding duty, even if momentarily.
No one likes getting their hands dirty.
She barely gained her bearings when Malfoy grasped her chin and forced her attention on him. "You are not to follow any orders unless it is given by myself. Your body, mind, soul and magic are mine to command and mine only. If you find yourself losing the autonomy of your mind or body, to anyone except me, you are to come to me immediately. The ring will take care of it. Understood?"
No, she did not, but her head was nodding reflexly regardless. Disoriented, she lay on the cool marble unnaturally calm even as her mind was howling in protest, unable to comprehend what just happened.
How could she when she was neither aware nor informed of the fine details purely for security risks?
Fear is a choice for them, but the reality for her.
"... justifiably unmoored. This is preemptive to guarantee that she does not have another panic attack, one that has happened multiple times in the past 24 hours. Had help been provided earlier, a calming drought would have been sufficient, but it is not. I just remarried barely a fortnight after I buried my first wife! I will not risk my second wife to- those thoughts are not time-passing musings! Your bleating fueled by the morality compass, that was pointing south up until reality struck, will not stand in the way of my authority as her husband."
Malfoy's words echoed in the room causing pin-drop silence.
Reality finally sank into the rest.
This was a choice for them unlike the only option for her. A choice they made with little to no qualm for the greater good. Now it is time for them to accept the responsibilities that came along with it; the consequences.
The world has lost Hermione Granger forever.
The brightest witch of her age. The brains of the Golden Trio. The champion of Muggleborns and Muggles.
Gone too soon, too young.
The guilt that will continue to eat them alive at night is meagre to all that she has and will endure.
She is now Lady Hermione Malfoy.
Wife of the Lord Draco Malfoy, sole heir of the well-renowned bigoted Pureblood family of the Wizarding World. No amount of money can wipe the bloody footprints that were left behind by the one family that is considered the royalty of the Wizarding World. The embodiment of everything she fought tooth and nail.
God help her.
Too lost in her thoughts, she failed to register the clipped footsteps of her husband towards her. Hermione jolted when she felt herself being lifted into Malfoy's arms. "As discussed. Nott on the qui vive near the cave with me, the rest at your designated positions. Any aberrations to be reviewed and discussed before being implemented. Polly, take us away."
"Are you in pain?" Malfoy set her to her feet ignoring Nott who stood a couple of paces behind them. The attempt for privacy is laudable considering the events of the day.
"No, I haven't felt any since I-"
What does she call it?
Woke up?
Free from one shackle and into the next.
"Apologies for this." Malfoy grabbed her head with his hands, chanting in a foreign language. She felt the press of something between her head and his hands as it grew warmer with his chanting.
Runes.
What she assumed was an echo of his voice turned out to be Nott's as the wizard moved closer to them. Her pleas fell on deaf ears, as usual, while the chanting grew louder.
Sigils appeared all over him, luminescent through the ivory robes moulded to his body.
The throbbing of her head brought her to her knees, dragging him down with her. It was not the worsening severity of the pain that had her scream out though.
It was his eyes.
Hermione tugged on his hands, digging her nails into his flesh, trying to distance herself from the horrifying sight. Her efforts were no match to the wizards holding her in place regardless of her scratching their hands raw. One almost sprawled on her in the process and the other dug his hands into her shoulders preventing any escape. Not that she stood any chance against them. Her heart plummeted, beating louder than her screams as Malfoy's pupil grew wider until there was no hint of white visible.
"Enough!"
Her shouting ceased immediately. The hands digging into her shoulders withdrew instantly. She did not understand why she stopped screaming or how the terror that gripped her vanished into thin air.
"This is scary, I am sure. This however will allow me to see what you are seeing and also facilitate any interventions, if and when needed. The ethics of which can be discussed any time in the future, if you wish to, but you have less than an hour to be in and out of the cave before our magic is restored. I order you, on your body, soul and magic, to go into that cave and bring my child back. Right now."
Hermione coughed inhaling the mouldering whiff of air in the cave. The torch in her hand guided her deep into the cave, past the point of the warmth of the sunlight and into the frigid cold. The heavy ivory gown she wore swept the dirty grounds coating a layer of dirt at the hems. She could care less for it provided little protection against the cold seeping into her bones. Coldness of the cave and also partly due to the dread setting in.
The perpetual dread of fear.
The fear of fear.
Not a sign of a living thing dead or alive so far.
"Keep walking ahead. Pay attention to the boulders on your right. "
It was strange hearing him guide her through the cave. She had been walking for over 15 minutes, painstakingly sweeping the cave, right and left, growing weary with each minute that passed by unsuccessfully.
Could it be that they were wrong about this?
Could it be another trap by the Dark Forces?
Or worse.
Could it be that the ghost was a hallucination of hers?
Regardless, the sheer amount of materials sent into the cave should be present somewhere. It cannot have vanished into thin air when magic does not work here. The fact that none of it is recovered indicates the presence of someone in the cave.
Or something.
Which gives her an odd sense of hope. Her disappointments bordering on infinite, she needed this to be successful to regain some hope for her future. The never-ending stream of efforts down the drain does not fuel her optimism.
Apart from terse instructions, Malfoy remained silent throughout the entire time. Hermione was at war with her mind. She was both enraged and pitying the man who held her in his tight fist.
Even animals have the granted leeway of a leash.
A bit of freedom to exist. Another privilege she was robbed of.
The sunlight greeted her from the other end of the cave when the first tears fell. Her heartbreaking, slowly resigning to the inevitable.
The inescapable reality of life; failure.
She could clearly see the silhouette of the wizard standing a couple of feets away from the other entrance to the cave, but there was no sight of Scorpius Malfoy.
Behind every cloud's silver lining,
Is a storm brewing cold
Hope may always be there,
But Despair's story is yet to be told
Face of loyalty, will you stay
Let us leap in the meadows around midday
She is gone, the Night has stole,
Despair's story is yet to be told
Brace the arms of Hope
The claws will soon sink in
Take off the masking cloak
To find the scales of a monster within
Let the sun shine upon us
From this day till we are old
Then the sun will set into dusk
Where despair's story will be told.
-B. A-
Perfer et obdura; dolor hic tibi proderit olim: Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you.
Optimum est pati quod emendare non possis: It is best to endure what you cannot change.
Disclaimer: Same as previous chapters.
A/N:
Back again! And on schedule so I am super proud of myself.
This was such a long write and I probably will make a few additions later on when I edit. Description writing is the hardest writing ever. Something I struggle with, but I am working on it. It is a skill to paint pictures with words and I adore, respect and look up to everyone who is able to do so. Only wish that I could reach that level, one day. Till then, I am going to keep on trying.
But for now, this is it. More to come next month.
Thank you all for taking the time to read. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did while writing this. Let me know what you think!
Happy Monday! XOXO.
Darkcarnage721