Fearing the Answers
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the characters, places and items used in this story. I own the plot
A/N: Happy New Year!
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It's been a hectic week, but I still managed to get my chapter finished! *cheers*
My responses to questions: I know that Hermione was a lot meaner towards Draco at the beginning of this than she was at the beginning of Fire and Ice. However, she probably would be, considering that she was locked in a dungeon with him and pretty afraid… it's a natural reaction to snap at people, even those close to you, when you're worried or scared.
Someone else pointed out that the used Portkeys were thrown into a bin at the Quidditch World Cup, and asked if they were only used once. I think that at least some Portkeys can be used more than once, as the Triwizard Cup took Harry both to the graveyard and back again.
The first part of the last chapter was a flashback, which seems to have confused some people even though I stated very clearly in bold text in my A/N that it was a flashback. Does no one read these things?
Yes, I do send out e-mails when I update, although you can also simply remember that I update every Wednesday. If anyone wants to be e-mailed when I update, just ask me to do so in your review.
Fire and Ice is still in the same place as always. It is only on this account at fanfiction.net, and the only person with permission to use the Glacios is JAMTillDawn, although I will probably give permission to anyone who asks. If you see anyone else using the curse or claiming the story as their own, please tell me.
And now onto the chapter.
~*~
However much she appeared to be determined, deep down Hermione felt terrified. She'd never been good with boys in a romantic sense. She was fine around Harry and Ron, but they were her friends. She'd gone with Viktor to the ball in fourth year, but even that had been on friendly basis. She had suffered through the clumsy kisses on the cheek and hastily whispered 'sweet nothings' simply for the sake of proving to everyone she was more than a bookworm. Of course, Viktor had been charming in his way, but there hadn't been any… passion, any real love for each other.
She tried to recall what she knew about him, but all she remembered were more recent things – in the dungeon, escaping, in Dumbledore's office. But the more she thought about Draco, the more she realised that he did love her. He had always set his face into a cold and impassive mask, but there had been something in his eyes that at the time she had though to be faked. A little love, a little need, a little terror and fear and bewilderment and just that tiny, tiny touch of some questioning thing she couldn't name, but recognised instinctively. That tiny little voice inside us all which asks the eternal, unanswerable question – 'Why?'
She'd been asking the same question a lot recently. Why me? Why him? Nothing made sense anymore. Harry and Ron had arranged for her to meet Draco at the lake, three o'clock today. It was only noon, and the clock refused to stop moving. It ticked relentlessly, its regular pace managing to be terrifyingly fast and excruciatingly slow. She wanted to get this over with, but didn't want it to happen at all.
Noon. One minute past. Two minutes past. Three minutes past. Four minutes past – couldn't time go any faster? Five minutes past, and only two hours and fifty-five minutes to go, it wasn't long enough, she couldn't possibly do this, what on earth was she supposed to say, and what if she didn't get her memory back and had to spend the rest of her life like this, meeting Draco every weekend and being utterly terrified because she didn't remember anything and…
There was a horrible crash, and the minute hand of the clock failed to tick across to six minutes past as it should have done, because Hermione had flung the clock against the nearest wall and it now lay in forlorn pieces on the carpet.
She sighed, leaning forward over the table and burying her head in her hands. There were some things mankind were not meant to deal with outside the realms of fantasy and stories. This was clearly one of them. She didn't normally lose her temper so easily.
She needed a hot drink, she decided, and something with what Lavender and Parvati's magazines would term 'a sinful amount of chocolate'. Pushing herself upright, she made her way to the kitchens.
~*~
The kitchens were their usual bustle of activity. Elves ran to and fro like ants, preparing what seemed like enough food to support a small continent. As she stepped through the entrance, she was hit full in the face by the promising smell of sausages cooking. They looked perfect, tender and golden brown, sizzling appetisingly. It made her feel extremely hungry.
'Miss Hermione! Miss Hermione!' squeaked a small voice, and Hermione was hit full on by what felt like a rather large Bludger. Looking down, she realised it was Ditty, who had her arms thrown around Hermione's legs in what was presumably a hug.
Hermione picked the little elf up and gave her a proper hug, feeling rather guilty. She had forgotten all about the little elf. She'd meant to ask Dumbledore to give her a job, preferably with holidays and decent pay. But with the whole Draco thing… Ditty had completely slipped her mind.
It turned out not to matter though, because Ditty proudly told her, 'Master Dumbledore has given Ditty a job, Miss Hermione! Ditty is working in the kitchens and cleaning the school with the other elves!'
'That's wonderful, Ditty.' Hermione told her, smiling. She put the little elf down on the floor carefully. 'Are you getting paid?'
Ditty shook her head vigorously. 'House elves is not supposed to be paid, Miss Hermione. Ditty was offered pay, and days off, but Ditty said no.'
'I thought you wanted to be free?'
'Ditty wanted to be working for someone other than the Malfoys, miss. And Ditty could not have found a better new master than Master Dumbledore! Ditty respects Master Dumbledore very much, Miss Hermione. And Ditty has made lots of new friends!' she added before Hermione could say anything.
'Ditty is friends with Iggy, and Lily, and Corry, and Nebby, and Dobby, and Tilly, and Venny…'
'Did you just say you were friends with Dobby?' Hermione asked.
The little elf nodded vigorously. 'Yes, yes, Dobby is one of Ditty's best new friends! Dobby was the house elf for the Malfoys before Ditty, and Dobby has told Ditty all about how he was freed too!'
Ditty grabbed Hermione's hand and tugged her through the kitchens, past mountains of bread, steaming chocolate puddings and some extremely mouth-watering chicken. The elves gave her curious glances, but went back to their work when they saw she didn't have any SPEW badges.
'Dobby! Dobby! Miss Hermione has come to visit!' Ditty shouted, stopping in front of an extremely familiar elf. He was wearing the most recent Weasley Christmas jumper, in maroon as usual, along with some children's shorts that came down past his knees. Beneath this was the usual pair of mismatched socks, today in clashing sky-blue and candyfloss-pink.
'Miss Hermione!' Dobby said, eyes opening as wide as saucers. 'It is so good to see you again!'
'Good to see you too.' Hermione said, kneeling down so that she was on eye level with the elves. 'How have you been?'
'Dobby has been very well, and Winky is good too!' Winky had finally started to accept her new position last summer, although it still wasn't quite safe to mention Crouch in front of her unless you had a box of tissues ready.
'Dobby has been showing Ditty around the kitchens and introducing the other elves.' Ditty continued. 'Over there, that is Corry, she is one of Ditty's roommates, and she is very kind to Ditty. And there is Iggy,' she said, pointing to an old looking elf with white hair who was washing dishes. 'He is very old and Master Dumbledore says he isn't supposed to do work, but he likes to help when he can. He speaks lots of languages, Mermish and Trollish and lots of others!'
Hermione spent at least half an hour in the kitchens, being introduced to more elves than she thought possible by the over-excited Dobby and Ditty. She finally saw Winky, who was carefully chopping carrots.
'Hello, Winky.' Hermione said with a warm smile. Winky nodded and smiled back. 'How are you?'
'Winky is fine, Miss Hermione.' replied the little elf. She seemed not so much anti-social as simply tired, someone who had nothing to say.
'That's good.' Hermione felt a sudden wave of sympathy, and the urge to pull Winky into a hug, but resisted it. 'Dobby and Ditty have just been showing me around the kitchen.'
Winky jerked upright at this, looking round until her eyes settled on the two elves, who were currently talking between themselves and paying no attention to anything else. Hermione was surprised to see her glare venomously at Ditty.
'Winky is not approving of Ditty, Miss Hermione.' Winky said, whispering in Hermione's ear. 'Dobby is spending far too much time with her, he has hardly spoken to Winky since she arrived.'
'Well, they must have a lot in common.' Hermione tried to console the elf, who was glaring angrily at Ditty. 'They probably just want to talk. I'm sure he'll talk to you too…'
Winky shook her head. 'Winky thinks that Ditty is stealing Winky's friend, Miss Hermione. Dobby is a good friend to Winky, but now he is spending all his time with Ditty… What if he has no time for Winky?'
The elf didn't seem angry or jealous, more… worried. Hermione patted her shoulder. 'Don't worry, Winky, I'm sure he won't ignore you…'
She was cut off mid-sentence by Ditty tugging on her sleeve. 'Miss Hermione, it is almost time for your lunch!'
Hermione glanced at her watch. It was indeed quarter to one.
'Does Miss Hermione want anything to take with her?' asked Dobby politely. Hermione's thought strayed longingly to the chocolate puddings she had come down for, but if lunch was so soon there was little point. 'No thanks, Dobby, I'll wait until lunch.'
After promising to tell Harry and Ron that Dobby was well, she left the kitchens, realising she was an entire hour closer to the dreaded three o'clock meeting.
~*~
Time passed all too quickly. At five to three, she left the common room grudgingly, her stomach churning. Draco. What was she going to say? She knew nothing about him, had no idea where to start… she didn't even know what he was like. Was he still given to the occasional cruel remark? Was he completely different? It was like going on a blind date, only worse, because he loved her already and she remembered nothing but hating him.
She pulled her winter cloak tighter about her as she made her way through the corridors. It was charmed to keep the wearer warm in any weather, but more than that, she felt it as a kind of shield. It was a barrier between herself and the world, and while it offered little protection against anything but weather, it somehow made her feel safer.
She turned the corner into the entrance hall, and saw… him. His pale hair and skin contrasted boldly with his black cloak, giving an extremely monochromatic impression. He was leaning against the wall, head bowed in a way she hadn't seen before, looking absently at the floor.
She was paralysed for a moment. What was she thinking? This was Malfoy, for goodness's sake. Why wasn't she just staying back where it was safe and warm and forgetting everything that had ever happened?
Because… because she didn't want to forget things. She relied on her memory, felt safe when she knew she could answer any question. And now Draco was a void, an empty space. There was a gap in her knowledge, and she needed to fill it.
And then, as she stepped hesitantly towards him, there was another reason. He looked strange, even to that instinctive part of her that knew him. He seemed deflated, almost lost. The word 'self-pitying' crept into her mind, but she dismissed it. He was somehow beyond self-pity and into a state of misery, almost desolation, which tugged at her heartstrings. She wondered how she knew this from nothing more than seeing him, but her instinctive understanding wasn't telling anything.
And then he looked up and saw her.
His expression didn't flicker, but his eyes met hers, and she almost stopped dead in her tracks. His pale eyes were empty but not blank, and seemed almost to ache. She was staring into the negative version of a black hole, the grey of a winter sky instead of midnight's ebony. His eyes sucked her in, a chasm opening before her. A phrase flickered through her mind. The eyes are the window of the soul. Was this what Draco felt? Not empty, but… as though something was missing?
Their eyes had met for only a second, but in that instant she felt like the entire world had flipped upside down.
She stopped before him, and for a second they faced each other, neither knowing what to say. Eventually Draco spoke, his voice carefully emotionless.
'Shall we go?'
Hermione nodded, and followed him out into the pale winter. The world was bleached and pale, reduced to simplest monochromes of colour. Deep brown trees, ice white sky, nondescript brown dirt. Frost cracked under her feet.
She walked beside Draco, wondering what to say. There were so many things to ask that the air was thick with the weight of things unsaid. She could feel them, pressing down on her, trying to move her lungs and her larynx and her mouth and come out as sound. But there was never a right way to ask. She spent countless minutes trying to order a simple sentence, but just as soon as she had it perfect, she glanced at him and it vanished.
He seemed not to know what to say either. He was silent, but she could feel that he wanted to speak. What would he ask her, she wondered. What did he feel? Was he angry, or upset, or… she didn't know. She didn't know anything. And here was Draco, who knew all the answers to her questions, and she was too afraid to ask.
Afraid of what? she asked herself. What is there to be afraid of?
The answers.
She was afraid of the answers.
Minutes passed, and the pair walked silently all the way around the lake, all the way back up to the school, without speaking, and parted in the Entrance Hall, without even knowing how to phrase their goodbyes.
~*~
'They don't seem to be talking.' Ron was kneeling on the window ledge of the Gryffindor common room, peering through the Omnioculars Harry had bought him at the Quidditch World Cup. He twiddled a button, zooming in closer on Draco and Hermione.
'They aren't?' Harry asked. Frowning, he closed his Divination textbook, through which he had been browsing for inventive misfortunes. 'Let me have a look.'
Ron handed him the Omnioculars, which he pressed against his glasses. The Omnioculars brought the two human-shaped dots into closer perspective. He focused on their faces; Hermione looked nervous and worried, and her eyes kept flickering from side to side. Draco's face was blank, but then when wasn't it?
'They aren't talking.' Harry affirmed. 'What's wrong?'
Ron shrugged. 'I haven't a clue.'
'Excuse me…' A thin voice interrupted the conversation, making both boys jump. A small house elf was standing just inside the portrait hole, regarding them with wide blue eyes. 'Are they… really not talking?'
Harry shook his head. 'Who are you? And why are you here?' House elves normally stayed out of the way in daytime, unseen by anyone. For one to appear in the Gryffindor common room was rare to say the least.
'I know who you are!' Ron exclaimed suddenly. 'You're that house elf Hermione brought back from the Malfoys' place! What was your name… Dilly?'
'Ditty, sir.' the elf replied. 'Ditty came because she wanted to know how Miss Hermione was doing. Is she really not talking to him?'
Harry shook his head, and Ditty's expression drooped. 'We're trying to figure out why though.' he added, trying to cheer her up. 'Do you have any idea?'
'Maybe she just doesn't trust him?' the elf suggested. 'Ditty wants them to get back together…' She sniffed a little, hanging her head and looking miserable.
'So do we.' Ron reassured her. Harry slid off the windowsill and paced the floor.
'Alright,' he said, 'we need something to get them together. Some sort of a… a catalyst.'
'A what?' asked Ron, puzzled.
'We were learning about it in Potions just last week, Ron. Hermione would have a heart attack if she heard you say that.' Harry said with a smile. 'Catalysts are things that make something happen but don't get affected themselves. Like when we used that dragon scale in making the Lassitude Potion. We added it to the mixture and it made the belladonna leaves combine with the daisy petals, remember?'
'No.'
Harry sighed. 'I know I'm going to sound like Hermione here, but do you ever listen in class?'
Ron was saved the embarrassment of answering that question by Ditty, who spoke unexpectedly. 'Ditty thinks… Ditty thinks she might have a plan.'
The two boys turned their eyes to her. 'A plan? Tell us.' said Harry curiously.
'Well…' the elf began, 'in the past, he has saved her life, hasn't he? If he was to save her life again, she would trust him and wouldn't feel so nervous around him.'
The two boys nodded slowly. It was how they had come to be friends with Hermione, after all: saving someone's life was an act that naturally inspired trust.
'But we couldn't do that. We can't just put Hermione in danger.' Ron pointed out.
The elf beamed. 'Ditty has an idea. Ditty knows an elf called Iggy who is very good with languages…'
~*~
A/N: You didn't really think I was going to tell you what the plan was did you? That will wait for next time…
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