Transi de Froid
By Incitata
Part Three: Strange Allies
"We're strange allies,
with warring hearts"
The Space Between
Dave Matthews Band
~0~
Sometimes it is necessary to take refuge, sometimes it takes a glimpse of another world before we appreciate our own.
~0~
Hermione sat at the side of her bed with her feet dangling uselessly over the edge. Her arms were wrapped tight around a pillow squashed into her lap. She flopped back and dropped the pillow down on her face but it couldn't block out her thoughts. She was alone in the sixth year girls dormitory. There were only five other people in the Gryffindor tower; Harry, Ron, Ginny and two first year girls who Ginny appeared to have adopted.
It didn't feel like Christmas.
Having dismissed the idea of staying in bed until next term Hermione hauled herself to a sitting position and after convincing herself that it was the right thing to do she stood.
The wooden floor was cold against her bare feet though a fire burned in the grate filling the room with a pleasant crackle and smell of oaky smoke. It disguised some of the winter chill. She quickly exchanged night-clothes for a pair of faded Levis and a loose white shirt. She didn't tuck in the hem.
With a sigh Hermione dumped her patterned winceyette pyjamas in a heap at the head of the bed. She glared at them.
That's me isn't it? Comfy cotton. She did not take her eyes off the offending garments. Nothing daring there. Not the sort of person to risk everything on a whim. So why, clever clogs, are you doing just that?
Hermione distracted herself from that question by bending down to pull on her boots. She eyed the stack of presents at the end of her bed wanting to scoop them up in her arms and carry them through to the boys dorm. Much more fun to open them with friends, but Ron wasn't speaking to her.
"Ron. Ron, please wait." she'd had to run to catch up with him.
"Need someone to yell at?" he scowled. His eyes seemed to be studying something far above her head.
"Ron., I'm sorry. It was a lovely thing you did. I just …"
"I know, you just want to sort out your own problems. Be my guest Hermione, sort away!" he scratched his freckled nose as he continued. "I don't know what's got into you recently. You're a nice girl Hermione and a good friend but I don't know what to say to you any more. I want to help but I can't until you want me to. I…"
"No. I want to …"
"Sorry Hermione. Not until you've sorted yourself out … I don't want to destroy what little we have left."
"… apologise."
"It's not enough."
"So it's all my problem?" Hermione said softly. She felt flint strike flint deep within. That spark took hold, kindled by confusion. "Take a look at yourself Ron before you lay all the blame on me. You haven't got a clue what you want so how the hell could you possibly help me? I came here to apologise Ron, to thank you for your help but you've just reminded me what a pig headed, self obsessed, parrot faced wassack you are! I don't want your help, now or ever. I don't need it. I don't need YOU!"
Tears streaming down her face, Hermione pushed past Ron and through the small crowd of vultures in human form that had gathered, attracted by her shrieks. She ran left, right, until she came to the deserted Divination corridor. Finally she paused for breath slumped against the wall. Still shaking with rage and indignation she bit hard on her knuckles to stop herself from crying all over again.
What on earth would he think if he knew what had really happened?
It was all Hermione remembered of the last day of term.
~0~
THRUMP. Hermione looked round. "Crookshanks, is that you?"
THRUMP. There it was again. It sounded like someone kicking … the door.
"Come in." Called Hermione.
"Can you open the door for me?"
"Two secs." Hermione pulled on her other boot and clumped over to the door. She twisted the smooth round knob and pulled open the door. Harry stood there with a slightly absent grin on his face. He cradled three brightly wrapped parcels in his arms. Harry shuffled in leaving the door ajar and dropped the lot on the bed. He sat down beside the heap.
"You'll break your neck on that!" Harry was pointing at the floor.
"What?" Hermione looked down at her feet. "Oh, the lace! Thanks Harry." She bent down to tie it.
"This ones from me." He shook the blue one. "That's from the Weasleys and the other one's from Ron. He told me not to give it to you but I think deep down he'd like you to have it."
"I'm not sure I want it." Hermione rummaged in her trunk and extracted two packages, one small and square, the other long and flat. "For you and Ron. Tell him he can burn it if he wants to." She handed them to Harry and sat cross legged on the rug. "Pass me a pressie then!"
Hermione began to peel away the shiny blue wrapping.
"Just rip it off," Harry suggested. He was already examining the apple sized crystal ball Hermione had given to him. "Very … erm … practical … thanks." he muttered. Hermione did not hear him.
"Spoils the surprise." Hermione slowed down a little just to emphasise her point. "Wow, a Moke skin money bag. Thanks Harry. And I'm sure this huge book of revision questions will come in very handy!" she added without a hint of sarcasm.
Fudge from Mrs Weasley, a portable wireless tuned permanently to the Wizarding Wireless Network from the parents. There was only one that Hermione hadn't opened; a small squashy green one.
"You should take this back Harry." she held it out.
He shook his head. "If you don't want it you'll have to give it back yourself. I'm not taking sides. Open it and come down to breakfast."
Hermione laid the parcel aside. "I'll have breakfast up here," she said as Crookshanks slipped in through the open door, and padded softly across the floor. He nuzzled his way into Hermione's lap. "You go with Ron. There's no point in us all falling out."
"C'mon Hermione, it's Christmas. Can't you two just forget it?"
Sadly, she shook her head and looked down at Crookshanks. There was some comfort in the low Rrrrrrrr Rrrrrrrr of the large ginger cat. "It's not that easy Harry," she explained, "I wish it was but we both said some things … I don't think we should see each other for a while, until we've both calmed down. If he ever calms down."
"Don't be daft. He'll come round." Harry slipped off the bed and knelt down beside Hermione. She felt a strong arm around her shoulders. "Give it a few days we'll all be back to normal, hey?"
You wouldn't say that if you knew what I'd done.
"Thanks Harry." Hermione squeezed out a weak smile. "Cho's lucky to have you. Anyway, I've got a lot of work to do this holiday. You keep Ron out of trouble … and come up and see me when you get the time."
As Harry closed the door behind him Hermione tore open Ron's green gift. She threw the paper to the floor. It was a scarf. A scarf that shimmered in the winter sunlight and slipped through her fingers like water. Silk and Demiguise the tiny embroidered label announced. How long had he saved for this?
"Oh, Ron."
A tear flupped down and sank, deep into Crookshanks soft fur.
~0~
Hermione heard the boys before she saw them. She threw open the diamond paned window and looked down into the courtyard. Big kids chucking handfuls of snow at one another. Ginny's squeal as Ron dumped a pile of snow onto her head. She wanted to join them but if she broke this exile and went down there Ron would storm off. Better to take the time to work out a plan of action. At least she wouldn't be disturbed by …
"Hermione."
Oh no.
"I thought you'd gone home for Christmas." Hermione said, a feeling of apprehension building. She did not turn round.
"Change of plan." Draco shrugged. "Shit happens."
"What do you want?"
Draco rested his shoulder against the window frame and stared at Hermione, she could see him lurking like a spectre on the edge of her vision. He continued to stare until she looked at him. "Not down there with your friends?" His left eyebrow arched. "Come to think of it you weren't at Christmas lunch … not feeling sick are you?"
"Do you want to get to the point?" she regarded him with scorn. Draco Malfoy was, thought Hermione, the only person her age she knew who wore robes out of term time but they were not school robes. These were a thick, rich black that swirled and clung on command. They seemed to be a rebellious statement directed the students in Hogwarts who jumped into Muggle clothes the minute the train carried their fellows away for the holidays. To Hermione they spat; I am nothing like you! The sentiment was echoed in the studied drawl of their owner:
"Ah yes, you have some very important staring out of the window to do. Don't let me disturb you. It just occurred to me that you've missed almost every meal for the last few days. Not pining for someone..."
"Funny, you look different without your goons." Hermione wanted to hurt him for all the trouble he'd caused. At that moment she would happily have pushed him out of the window and listened gladly as he landed far below with a satisfying crunch. Somehow she didn't think she would get very far with that plan so she resorted to his own weapon of choice. Words. "Looks like they couldn't wait to get away from you. Now, I thought you all dropped dead if you were apart for more than ten minutes…"
"Ts, ts, ts!. Well you should know that isn't true," his words mocked but Hermione noticed a fleeting tightness around his eyes, something she had never seen before. "Besides, it doesn't work that way Hermione," it was the first time she'd looked quite so closely. "When did you ever stay here just 'cause Potter did?"
"I'm here now."
"And the previous five years?"
"You've got a short memory Malfoy," she'd stayed in the second year when Harry and Ron had sneaked into the Slytherin common room 'disguised' as Crabbe and Goyle. Hermione would have been with them but for an accident that confined her to the infirmary. The memory of those unfortunate weeks partially transformed into Millicent Bulstrode's cat still made Hermione want to twitch her tail in irritation. She supposed that Draco remained utterly ignorant of the polyjuice incident and saw no need to enlighten him now. She sucked in a breath and attempted to be pleasant; "Why are you staying?"
Draco turned away. He folded his arms on the window sill and kicked the wall with one foot. His attention drifted somewhere deep in the smoke grey winter sky. Hermione could not see his eyes, only the movement of his jaw as he spoke. "My parents decided to go to the Urals … without me."
"Don't you usually have Christmas at home?" Hermione imagined a rather Victorian Christmas. The gilded façade of a well mannered 'model' family warmed by a blazing fire. There was a huge Christmas tree, family friends coming to call…
"Sometimes at home, sometimes elsewhere … usually they tell me. But not this year…"
… the image of a cluster of his parents Death Eater friends robed and masked, knocking on a huge door ready to come a-wassailing popped into Hermione's mind. She snorted loudly at the absurd image.
"What?" Draco's eyes narrowed. His enjoyment of laughing at misfortune appeared not to extend to his own.
"Nothing," Hermione fought down a chuckle. "Why are they going to the Urals? Vampire country isn't it? Not exactly hospitable at this time of year, or ever."
"I didn't ask." he replied cocking his head so that his full gaze fell upon her.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. I just thought …"
"You still have to know everything don't you?" Draco cut her short. "Always another question. Well here's one for you Granger, if you're so bloody clever." Low steady voice, almost melodic. "Why do those people down there, the ones that you've lived the last five years with. Why do they not understand you? Why do they not tell you what they truly feel?" His eyes flashed the hue of honed steel only twelve times sharper. "How can you continue to call them your friends when they are content to leave you here, alone?"
"I didn't come here to debate philosophy." The questions were unfair but they were the same questions Hermione had been asking herself all morning. She did not want them asked by Draco Malfoy. Hermione bit her lip before responding to her smooth tongued interrogator. "If all you're going to do is taunt me Malfoy, give up. It won't work."
Hermione watched as he turned away from the window. He leaned back against the bare stone wall and folded his arms, still speaking in the same even annoying tone. "Have you ever been truly alone Hermione Granger? No-one to rely on but yourself? No Potter, no Weasley to run to your rescue?"
"I'm an only child Malfoy, if that's what you mean!" she bristled. "At home there's only me and my parents, I'm quite happy with my own company."
"Then we have something in common. Now why don't you stop being an ass." Draco swung himself round and placed one hand at either side of the narrow window frame. Trapped, Hermione looked up at him. "You're not exactly my first choice of person to spend the Christmas holidays with and I suspect I'm not yours but it looks like neither of us have much choice and I'm damned if I'm going to spend the next week with a bunch of giggling first year girls." Draco's tone slipped seamlessly from mocking to commanding with practised ease.
"Well you really know how to make a girl feel wanted." Hermione guessed that he wasn't used to argument from his peers but if he thought that she was going to roll over he'd better think again. She shifted suddenly and knocked his left arm out of the way. He keeled forward but recovered quickly his balance.
"Apparently I do," Draco replied as he carefully placed his hand back against the wall as if in anticipation of a second assault. "You might be surprised."
~0~
It has long been assumed that the Astronomy tower is the favoured meeting place for illicit assignations among the more adventurous element of the student body. Yet at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, those young adventurers who actually want to keep their liaison a secret, who do not relish the idea of the caretaker, Mr Filch, or his nosy cat, Mrs Norris intruding on their most intimate moments choose a less symbolic location …
"What is this place?" asked Hermione as the door clicked shut. She dropped her bag beside the door and slid the bolt home. Desks were stacked haphazardly against one wall, three wobbly piles of chairs against another. The floor was carpeted only with a thin layer of dust. A wide empty fireplace grinned vacantly from the far end of the room. There was little evidence to suggest that anyone living had been here recently.
"An old classroom," replied Draco, "I found it a few years back." He strode across the room disturbing the dust which filled his wake with spirals that curled slowly up toward the high beamed ceiling. Draco scraped a chair along the floor and stood on it while he opened the high windows just a gap. A brilliant blade of light cut through the dusty air but without this aid the winter sun could barely penetrate the filthy panes.
Draco hopped down from the chair. "There used to be an old mirror in here, right where you're standing. Strangest thing. I think it showed the future. Would you believe I saw my own wedding day? Extraordinary thing really. I mentioned it to my father, he told me not to go skulking around the school at night …"
"Really?" Hermione muttered. She suspected that she had heard of that same mirror. Harry had encountered it back in his first year… but was that really Draco's hearts deepest desire? She resisted the temptation to ask him the identity of his bride.
"Yes, miserable old sod, as if he didn't when he …
Hermione sighed and retrieved up her bag. She walked toward the fireplace. One thing that was becoming apparent about Draco was that he had a fondness for lecturing. As she took her wand from her bag she wondered where he had picked up that habit. She squatted by the grate and In a few seconds Hermione had a small fire burning. "That's better." She straightened and tossed her bag into the corner. "Did you bring a rug?"
"… he told me that in his third year he … What?"
"A rug! I don't really want to sit on a cold stone floor."
"Hmmm. No. I did go to the kitchens and order the house elves to bring food, should be here any minute."
"Well, I'll sit on a plate of sandwiches shall I?"
"Honestly Hermione, I don't think that sarcastic tone suits you." Draco removed the robes from around his shoulders and spread them on the floor. Beneath them he wore black, soft, smooth and fitted. A sharp contrast with his colouring and sculpted features. She watched as he sat down, the bluish flames made his skin glow.
"Come, sit." he said.
"If you promise not to tell me what suits me and what doesn't."
"Promise!"
Hermione sat as bidden, her right leg curled beneath the left. She pointed her wand at the dancing flames. They grew and a spread a little further. "There's an awful chill in this room." She remarked.
"Hmmmmm." Draco reclined fully, leaning his weight on his elbows. His legs stretched out, feet very near the flames raised a few inches on the hearth. "Why do you suppose they call it Boxing Day? My father has often asked me this question but so far I haven't managed a satisfactory answer. Do you …"
"Because traditionally boxing matches and other sporting events, horse racing, football matches things like that were held the day after Christmas." Hermione said, unaware of the glare she attracted for interrupting his speculation. "It's just a name that we've picked up from Muggles."
"Boxing matches? What's that?" Draco enquired though his tone was disinterested.
"Two men wear padded gloves and they beat the hell out of one another in a series of rounds. Barbaric really."
"And Muggles call that sport? Damned uncivilised if you ask me. Is it any wonder that …" he did not complete the sentence, instead a tense silence settled with the dust.
"That what?" Hermione was curious as to what he was reluctant to say about to say about Muggles and their pastimes.
"Nothing. Where's that ruddy little elf with the food?"
"Probably terrified to come near you, Draco," Hermione was about to say something more but stopped herself. They'd agreed not to let their prejudices get in the way but there was one thing that Hermione was curious about. "Can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead." his eyes remained fixed on the ceiling.
How to phrase it? Maybe he would just laugh at her and refuse to comment. "Why are you here Draco, with me? Your family has certain associations and I don't think they'd like it."
"There's no-one else around to talk to," he continued staring into the darkness. "Consider it an honour."
Arrogant swine. "I'm so grateful!"
Was he joking? Hermione wasn't sure.
"Ts, ts, ts! Sarcasm again!" he said, honey sweet but with a growing undertone of warning. "I know what you want to ask; Is my father a Death Eater. Am I a Death Eater?" A soft low chuckle emerged from Draco's throat. "Well, as if I'd tell you!" He swung his left arm out so that it landed heavily in Hermione's lap. "Take a look. It will answer part of your question."
Hermione hesitated. His directness unnerved her. It made her question her own assumptions. This tactic worked on Hermione where more subtle attempts at manipulation would have failed. She wondered, was he always this candid or was it something he had designed specially for her.
Slowly, tentatively, she rolled the sleeve of soft black stuff up his arm. The muscle flinched at her touch. Draco did not resist as she turned his arm so that his hand lay palm up. Hermione bit her lower lip as she slid his sleeve up a little further, all the way up past the elbow. She realised that she had been holding her breath only when a ragged gasp spilled from her chest, like a diver submerged too long bursting out of the water.
His skin was unblemished.
"I told you that you couldn't be right about everything!" Still Draco did not look at her but Hermione saw that he was smiling. It wasn't a warm smile. He drew back his arm and carefully rolled down the sleeve before placing it behind his head.
"Do you really think it's a family business?" he sneered. "Haven't you ever looked at the basic organisation of terrorist groups?"
One look at her expression would have told him that she had not.
"… I believe it's a common way for Muggles to press their cause when they are in disagreement with the majority. Take one cause and one charismatic leader. Trusted followers are recruited, only the leader knows who they are. Most families will be utterly unaware that a member of the group lives in their midst. Loyalty and ability must be proven. In other cases the entire community knows exactly who is involved but there is no evidence so there is nothing that the authorities can do to them …"
Hermione realised then that Draco was no longer talking and that he was staring up at her. She focussed on his lips as he spoke. "Don't look so shocked Hermione. I'm a realist, not a romantic. If you don't want to hear the answer, don't ask the question."
Glare met glare ……
In the following seconds several things happened. A House Elf, younger than any Hermione had ever seen (and clearly too curious for it's own good) popped into view bearing a tray four times its own width. A low table appeared and it set the tray down. It grinned awkwardly from beneath a large hat carefully folded from an old yellowed copy of the daily prophet.
Draco raised himself on one elbow and aimed a sharp blow at the elf and Hermione lunged forward to knock him away. They landed in a tangle of limbs and his hand met with empty air. The creature was gone.
"What did you do that for?" Hermione screeched pulling away from Draco as quickly as she could. Nonchalantly, he resumed his previous position.
"Badly trained thing like that wouldn't last a minute in our house, sloppy little …" he looked at Hermione as though she'd just exclaimed; "Hogwarts; A History? Never heard of it!". "They're not meant to be seen," he protested before his patience ran out. "Oh come on Hermione!" his voice cracked like lightening through the charged air. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Hermione ignored the question. She was already on her feet. "You obviously think you can abuse anyone or anything. I don't want to be part of that."
"Sit down and listen to me," he commanded.
Hermione remained standing. She watched as he flipped lightly to his feet. His eyes burned like magnesium, bright against the dim light. He stood back, regarding her critically down his long thin nose. "Do you want me to lie to you Hermione? Do you want me to make you believe that I am what I am not? …"
"Of course I don't …"
He talked straight over as he paced slowly about the room with his hands clasped loosely behind his back. "… I could do that, but I thought you valued honesty and honesty means seeing all the less pleasant aspects of a person does it not? I'd hate you to have any illusions about me. Why don't you just accept that I know things that you do not such as the fact that there is only one way to train a damned House Elf? There's a lot you could learn from me … if you'd listen!"
"Maybe in your twisted little mind, Malfoy. I…"
"You're here because I'm different, because I'm not a nice guy, because I'm so different to your dear, dear friends. You're intrigued by my world and you've been given a chance to look into it, and you're taking it. Maybe it makes you feel good to get one over on Weasley. I should think that …"
"I think I should go." said Hermione.
"As you wish," Malfoy grinned then sat down and began to help himself to sandwiches. He waved a dismissive hand in her direction. "Do close the door on your way out."
Hermione was tempted to give him a good smack, hard, right on the side of his overinflated head. What had she expected, him begging her to stay?
"Fine!" Hermione snatched up her bag and stormed toward the door. He appeared not to notice. She paused in the doorway and turned, pointing her wand at the fireplace. A wide jet of water shot out extinguishing the blue flame with a hiss. She let it widen into a spray and adjusted very slightly the trajectory. Draco yelped as the freezing rain covered him. Hermione smiled and slammed the door shut behind her.
~0~
With great amusement Draco sought her out the next day and took her down to the kitchens. There, with apparent sincerity he apologised to the House Elf and Hermione agreed that they might continue to share lunch in the empty classroom.
~0~
Hermione thought that the drenching had done him some good.
~Fin~
In Part Four: Pax our allies reach agreement yet others appear less than satisfied.
Authors Notes
This chapter was a bit shorter than I intended but I decided that what is coming merited a chapter all of its own. If writing goes according to plan this fic will now be six chapters. Hmmmmm.
There's a little extract from my all time favourite insult, we used it when I was about ten --- You great idle, spawny eyed, parrot faced wassack! --- What's a wassack? I have absolutely no idea!
Someone asked if they had gone further than making out. Well, I'm leaving that to your imagination. I happen to be terrible at writing sex scenes. Also I want to leave it open though there is a very strong implication…
Now correct me if I'm wrong but was it not Brian Lumley's rather marvellous vampire series that set the Urals as being Vampire country?
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters are and remain the property of J K Rowling, Bloomsbury or Scholastic Books. Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Brothers © 2000/2001. No infringement of copyright is intended by this fic.
