Chapter 15 - A place called "home"

Draco watched Mrs. Allen's face turn green, red, then white. He would have been amused if the person who wrote the letter was not Hermione. He could read her as easily as a book.

"How are you related to Hermione?" Mrs. Allen whispered, still looking white.

Draco was silent for a while, enjoying Mrs. Allen squirm. "We dated for quite some time when we were 15."

He saw the look of realisation dawn on her. Yes, Pulcheria, Draco mocked. I'm from the Wizarding world.

Pulcheria gripped the table top for support. "W-what do you want?" she whispered, her voice quivering.

Draco shrugged casually. "Your daughter asked me to deliver this for her," he emphasized loudly, just enough for Blanda to catch his words. "So I did."

"What did you do to her?" Pulcheria asked softly.

"Don't worry, Pulcheria," he said smoothly. "I'll make sure she gets here in 5 days, safe and sound."

Draco spun around and left, satisfied with the reactions he got. It would be the second time that day to have everyone's eye on him.

3 days later

Hermione laughed as Draco twirled her around the room. They were slow dancing across the room under the stars. Actually it was the ceiling, still under Draco's spell. It was indeed romantic, waltzing to Celine Dion's To Love You More.

I'll be waiting for you
Here inside my heart
I'm the one who wants to love you more

They stopped gradually, Hermione in Draco's arms, unbelievably close.

You will see I can give you

"Hermione," Draco whispered, sending chills down her spine.

Everything you need

She looked back at him expectantly. This is the man, the path I have chose, she told herself. I'll stand by my choice.

Let me be the one to love you more...

Hermione tilted her head, hinting for him to kiss her. Draco need not be told a second time. With all the passion he had kept within himself for far too long, he kissed her fiercely.

The last day

Hermione woke up early that day. She felt light as she could go home. And yet, heavy. She wondered why. She turned to her side, just to find Draco not beside her. She started to panic, then saw him standing by the window, hands by his side, staring at thin air.

She hopped off the bed to join him.

"Hey," she murmured. She was confused to find Draco tensing. Hermione tried again. "You never told me what my parents said."

"Your family expects to see you today," he replied stiffly, taking out a piece of paper from his pocket. "New address."

Hermione took it and her eyes widen at each word. They were living in a posh neighborhood? Wherever did they get the money? She could not help but feel skeptical. "Are you sure?"

Draco nodded, once, not trusting himself to speak. "You can leave now," Draco finally said hesitantly. If you want to, Draco thought silently. "I asked Father."

Hermione could not hear his last comment. Or if she could, she showed no sign of hearing it.

"Will you walk me to the door?" she asked shyly. Draco stared at her. Is she really dumb or just stupidly oblivious? He shrugged, with a lump in his throat, and they walked down the seemingly endless flight of stairs in silence.

Once at the door, Hermione gazed up at Draco.

"Thanks, Draco, for..." she paused. "Taking care of me all these months."

Don't thank me! Draco shouted. Stay! Don't leave! Instead, he said, "No problem."

She smiled, lighting up her whole face. Draco stared at her face, as if he would forget how she would look like. "Have a safe journey home."

Hermione nodded, her hand turning the door knob.

"And whatever you do, don't come back," Draco added. Hermione turned to ask him what he meant when she was pushed - by a gust of wind - out the door. She whipped around, only to see the door closed on her. Feeling strange, she walked out the gates. The weather changed dramatically. One moment it was still bright, and the next, black clouds covered the bright sun. Hermione walked on the snow with a force she never used. Hailing a taxi, she told the driver the address to home.

Hermione stared at the blond girl. "I think I got the wrong house," she said confusedly.

The younger girl rolled her eyes. "Lost huh?" she commented. "Well, don't come here."

Hermione looked at the address. "Um, does Jarette and Pulcheria stay here?"

The blond girl sighed exasperatedly. "You mean, my stepmother," she said wryly. "Why is everyone looking for her these days? Next her husband will come back and haunt all of us."

Hermione sent her a look. What did she meant by stepmother? And what about that haunting thing?

Hermione looked around the house. It was posh, all right. Really beautiful, though old-fashioned. A movement caught her eye. "Mum!" she yelled, running over to give her a hug. But instead of her mum looking overjoyed, she was shocked. No one could blame her actually.

Pulcheria paled. She had forgotten about Hermione coming home. "H-Hermione?" she called out, frightened out of her wits.

Hermione stopped halfway. Her mother sounded far from pleased to see her. What was up with that? "Where's Dad?" Hermione asked. "I want to see him."

Hermione watched her mother turned even whiter. She looked like she was thinking really hard.

"Your father d-died, Hermione," Pulcheria whispered finally, her voice could be heard quivering.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her mother. "Very funny, Mum."

"He committed suicide," she continued. "When we could not find you. For four months, we have been worrying ourselves. Your father gave up, convinced you were in trouble and decided to look for you in Heaven. I pleaded him not to, but he said he loved you too much..."

Hermione suddenly felt very difficult to breathe. The room was spinning. And spinning. And spinning. When it finally stopped, Hermione fainted. Whether it was from the dizziness or the horrible news, no one knew.

Blanda stared at Hermione with hatred. Pulcheria had a daughter? She deceived her father! She knew it. Pulcheria had always been nasty to Blanda. Now that Hermione was here, everything will worsen. And, Hermione was not even pretty. Blanda was still the more beautiful one.

I can't believe my luck, Blanda thought, her mouth curling in disgust.

Hermione stepped into the grey room. It was the same as the one Ron had been killed in. She shivered, sensing the strong dark aura in the room. Wake up! she told herself. I don't want to be here!

A blond head caught Hermione's eye. She walked forward, measuring and calculating each step. Draco? she thought.

A disgusting creature stepped out of the shadows. He was in a hood, not to be seen, yet everyone knew who he was. He could be recognised by the voice anywhere.

Lord Voldermort laughed. "My child," he mocked. "You have finally came to serve me."

Draco hung his head. "Yes, I have," he answered dully.

Hermione stared as Draco held out his hand. Voldermort moved his hand a few inches above his. He's a Magid, Hermione realised. She felt frightened all of a sudden, for herself, for Draco. What is he doing? she thought wildly.

"Potestatem patris nostrae in tenebris invoco," Voldermort hissed, mercilessly. "Bruciatura!"

Draco doubled over in pain, as if Voldermort had driven a knife through him. He shut his eyes and bit his lip, wishing for the pain to go away. He tried to stand, but found out he could not. It seemed as if his legs lost their feeling, like he could no longer control them. He winced and curled in on himself. Bright stars were printed on the inside of his eyelids.

Hermione watched him stand up slowly, clutching his arm as if it burned. Hermione thought she saw something awfully black on Draco. A skull with grinning jaws, a snake, and empty eye sockets were burned black and raw into the skin of his forearm, looking as though it was challenging Hermione. Signo serpens.

The Dark Mark.