Magnanimous Chapter 5 – Trusting

Disclaimer: I own the plot, and also the two minor original characters at the end of the chapter. JK owns all else.

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Authors Note: Welcome to the next instalment of Magnanimous! You are going to love me for this – a longer than average chapter, concentrating solely on D/Hr! With all interesting-y tension bits. And interesting metaphors. I get more excited by metaphors than by men. I'm weird that way.

Anyway. Settle back, get comfy. Remove all distractions – tell your friends on chat you'll be away for a bit, turn off that radio, gag your younger siblings and stuff them in the closet. And, as always, enjoy!

~*~

It felt as though an eternity had passed, with the wind and the sand whirling angrily above their heads, before the wind was abruptly cut off mid-howl. No gradual dimming, not even a few seconds that told of the end of the sandstorm. One moment the wind was shrieking its wrath above them, the next all was silent but for the ringing in their ears and the sand, which gently rained down onto the ground.

Hermione felt Draco take his hand away, and lifted her head up, scowling. 'That wasn't very polite, you know…' She trailed off as she stared at the landscape in front of her.

Sand. Where there had been dark grass and verdant shrubs, there were now huge dunes of sand, shining silver in the moonlight, rolling like miniature hills across the grounds. She pushed herself to her knees, dislodging a shower of sand from her clothes and hair, and looked around. In the distance, she could just see a dark line that might have been the beginning of the grass again. She could see the boundary line over one shoulder, and on the other side of that line not one grain had fallen.  The grass there lay clear and spotless.

Harry and Ron were nowhere to be seen.

While she had been taking in the new surroundings, Draco had got to his feet and started brushing the sand from his robes irritably.

'It may not have been polite, but it kept you from wandering off through that storm and possibly getting killed in the process.' He remarked dryly, 'Unlike those other two idiots…'

'They aren't idiots.' Hermione snapped defensively. 'And they could be hurt…'

'They wouldn't be hurt if they'd lain down and waited it out like I suggested.' said Draco bitterly. 'And then we'd all still be together instead of split up.'

'Well, they might be hurt now.' she replied, standing up and making an effort to brush the sand from her robes. She gave up after a moment, unlike Draco, who seemed obsessed with getting every last grain off his clothes. 'We have to find them.' She added firmly.

'How exactly do you plan to go about doing that?' he asked. 'They could have gone in any direction. And we've no idea how far they've gone either. It could be miles. Face it, we can't find them now.'

'We can,' she retorted doggedly, getting angry. Angry at him for stopping her from going after them, and angry at him for arguing against her now, and angry at him simply for existing. 'We can't just leave them alone in this place… they could run into another spell, or a Death Eater…'

'Hermione, in case you haven't noticed, Harry and Ron do have a very basic ability to cast spells. And while they may be fairly brainless when it comes to danger, they can take care of themselves.' He sighed. 'This is the problem with Gryffindors. It's all bravery, bravery, bravery, and never any common sense. No Slytherin would have gone running off though that sandstorm like they did.'

'No Slytherin would care enough to try and find them after they got lost in the storm, either.' Hermione spat back. 'No Slytherin would care whether they were alright or not! Do Slytherins even care about anyone? Because I've never seen anything to prove that they do!'

Draco's face fell for a second, as though someone had driven the edge of a razor into his soul. When he spoke, it was in a clipped voice, 'Slytherins can and do care about people. We aren't as cruel and heartless as you appear to think.'

'You certainly act that way.' Hermione glowered.

'If I don't care about anyone, then why am I here?' Draco replied, his ice-cold eyes flaring momentarily with something resembling anger. 'Why am I risking my life to do this if I don't care about anyone?'

'Because you aren't risking your life,' said Hermione, folding her arms across her chest, eyes smouldering like hot coals. 'Because you aren't trying to help at all. You're leading us into danger, trying to split us up, trying to stop us turning off the power source… even leading us to Voldemort!'

'No.' he said firmly, interrupting her, but she ignored him her anger was building now, not just at him but at everything: at Harry and Ron for arguing, at Voldemort for the spell, at the stress and the strain and the worry of what might happen if they failed, at the thought of what might happen if they succeeded, what it could cost them... All this, spiralling up from the wells of her heart, and bursting out in a fit of anger.

'Why else would you suddenly turn around and decide to help? Your father's a Death Eater, and we've known you're following him for years, following in his footsteps… You're doing this for Voldemort, leading us into danger and splitting us up with this sandstorm. Admit it! You've never been anything but a bully, someone who likes to hurt people, to be cruel to everyone else because it makes you feel powerful, and we were idiots to think that you could ever be anything else! You…'

But her tirade was cut off suddenly in mid-rant; Draco had stepped up to her, caught hold of her wrists and swung her so that she couldn't help but look at him. And what she saw was almost frightening; Draco's eyes, normally glacially detached and hard as steel, had fire in their depths. A fearsome light, simultaneously powerful and angry, which showed that even cold and impassive steel could ignite into angry fires if provoked enough.

…and maybe, deeper down amongst the depths of the silver-grey, was a layer that spoke of how the steel was made, by melting it and burning it and moulding it into shape, refining and strengthening and not caring how it hurt or what was lost.

'You have no idea.' Draco hissed, his very voice low with suppressed rage, 'You have no idea what I think, what I feel, who I am… And I would never hurt anyone. I made a promise once that I wouldn't stand by and let other people be hurt while I did nothing, and I intend to keep it.'

His intensity startled her, scared her even; she instinctively stepped away from his burning eyes. It was no longer a question of whether she believed him. He was impossible not to believe. When she looked into those eyes, so cold-grey and yet so filled with fire, she could see a myriad of emotions. Anger, pain, grief, rage, sadness… But nowhere in those grey orbs was there a hint of deception.

'I… I'm sorry…' she stammered, unsure what to say. Because what do you say to something like that? She felt her cheeks tint red in embarrassment, and tried to look away. To look into his eyes was like seeing something private about Draco, something she shouldn't see.

To her relief, he released her wrists without a word, turning away from her and setting off on their walk again. He moved unusually fast, his hands balled into fists at his sides; Hermione had to practically jog to keep up.

'Hey, slow down!' she told him. 'You're going too fast.'

He ignored her, not even glancing at her. If anything, he picked up speed. 'I can't keep up with you at this speed, slow down!' she called.

'And that bothers me because…?'

'Because then we'll be even more split up.' She replied, gulping in a deep breath. She made a strict mental note that she was really going to have to get some exercise; sitting inside reading books all day wasn't healthy.

'Have you not considered that I may actually want to be split up from you?' His voice was like an icicle: sharp, cold, and cutting.

'Look, Draco…' Hermione sighed breathlessly; she stopped jogging alongside him, too worn out to carry on. 'I didn't mean to say all that.' She called after his rapidly retreating back. 'I was angry… a bit at you, I admit, but just at the horribleness of this whole thing… And I took it all out on you. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that.'

He stopped walking, not looking around, standing perfectly still. Like a statue, she thought, with the moonlight playing off his skin and his hair shining. He could have been made of marble.

'And I believe what you said.' she added quietly, 'About not being on Voldemort's side. When you said that… when you said that you weren't lying.'

Silence, the tense kind of silence that hangs in the scales, ready for one word to tip the balance…

'I trust you…'

Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned his head to look over his shoulder at her. His face was blank and impassive, empty of all feeling, passionless as slate.

And heartbreakingly, heartbreakingly beautiful.

'Well don't just stand there.' He called back, false irritation in his voice, 'Come on. There's a long way to go yet.'

He waited until she had gratefully scurried to his side, then continued at a slower pace. 'If we want to find your friends, we should carry on this way. They know the route, and the most likely thing they'll do is follow it. With luck, we should meet up.'

Hermione nodded mutely, and they carried on in silence. She still felt a little shaken by what had just happened – and could only guess at how Draco felt. She, certainly, had a lot to think about.

Her mind flicked back to the look she'd seen in his eyes, and she shivered, glancing sideways at him as they walked. What had that meant? What was he hiding…? It was a puzzle, and like all puzzles she wanted to solve it. The strange combination she had seen: that false blankness, cold as stone, contrasted with what she had seen when she enraged him and his guard had fallen… It was as though there were two Dracos. The one she'd known and hated for years, the one who sneered in the corridors and called her names. And the one who walked beside her now, the one she'd seen in the depths of his eyes when angry. One who, insane as it sounded, actually wanted to help…

Her musings were interrupted some minutes later by Draco, who stopped abruptly and remarked, 'There are two figures approaching.' Hermione felt a twinge of guilt at his manner. So cold, blocking her out with that careful, practiced kind of blankness that completely veiled the multitude of what was hidden beneath.

She pushed that thought aside, looking with a feeling of spreading warmth and joy over to where Draco's careless hand had indicated the figures. Two people were highlighted by the moon's silver light, their features reduced to a simple mix of black and white. But their forms were male, and she was so desperate to see Harry and Ron again that she convinced herself it must be them. It had to be!

'Careful.' Draco cautioned as she made a movement towards the silhouettes, 'They may be Death Eaters.' Hermione nodded, convincing herself that he was wrong. 'Keep your wand at the ready, there's nowhere to hide if they aren't Harry and Ron.'

Her wand had never left her hand; she rubbed it now impatiently. 'I'm sure it is them…' she said, squinting at the nearing figures.

'Lets hope you're right.' Draco muttered grimly, his expressionless eyes never leaving the moving males. Over the next five minutes they came gradually closer and closer, features growing and sharpening in focus.

'It isn't them' Draco said, and now there was the slightest trace of fear in his tone.

'It is. It has to be…' Hermione whispered desperately, a spark of panic igniting within her.

'It isn't.' Draco shook his head obstinately, 'Do you know any long-range spells? We need to get them before they come any closer, incapacitate them…'

'No, no, don't do that! I'm sure it's Harry and Ron…'

But she was cut off mid sentence: a magical rope had flown towards them from the direction of the figures, wrapping around Malfoy and sending him crashing to the ground. Hermione had barely time to gasp before a second rope entwined itself around her, toppling her over to crash brutally to the sandy earth. She could see Draco's face, but it was difficult to turn her head against the ropes, and try as she might she couldn't see the approaching figures.

'What was all that, 'Oh no, they aren't Death Eaters!' rubbish that you were spouting a few seconds ago?' Draco hissed from a few inches away, eyes flashing.

'They were Ron and Harry… They have to be…' she said, struggling against the rope as fear began to creep over her like a sickening, icy blanket. They couldn't be captured… surely it was just Ron and Harry, thinking that she and Draco were Death Eaters, and they'd sort it all out in a minute…

Idiot.' Draco mocked without much malice, 'Just because you want something to be true doesn't make it reality. And if you'd remembered that then we wouldn't be lying here tied up!'

The conversation was halted by the arrival of the two Death Eaters, who had raced to the spot after bringing their quarry down. Two men, both hooded, their features invisible. Hermione's heart sank as her last hope wilted and died.

'Looks like a couple of students trying to escape the spell.' one of them said in a cultured tone. Mockery dripped off his tongue in a manner that chilled, 'Silly children.'

'Ah, they're only kids.' This voice was gruff, the kind of voice that tells rude stories in the shady corners of pubs. 'Two of 'em. Shame, as what'll happen to 'em. The Dark Lord's not best pleased with escapees…' A threat.

'One moment, Irwin.' The first voice sounded surprised. 'This is Lucius' son. Who obviously…' his voice narrowed, sounding irritated, 'doesn't understand the injunction to stay inside the school at all times…'

'I understand perfectly well.' Draco replied, a defiant glint in his eye. The face he'd assumed – she could guess that this would definitely be a fake expression – was cool, calm and above all relaxed. As though he didn't care…'Whether I obey or not is my own choice.'

'The Dark Lord will be displeased.' The Death Eater replied regaining his staunch tone, 'As well as your father. Lucius is back at the tower, is he not, Irwin?'

Draco stiffened.

'Yeah, he was workin' on the hexes 'round the south of the master tower last time I saw him.' The Death Eater named Irwin remarked casually. 'Keepin' away from the meddlin' Ministry, after he persuaded 'em to let him out…'

'Then Lucius can deal with his son.' The one with the cultured voice remarked, 'And this other one. Help me get them back to the tower, we can put them in the dungeons until they can be seen to.'

The two voices muttered, 'Mobilicorpus,' and both Hermione and Draco floated into the air. Hovering along at wand point, they were propelled in the direction of the tower. Neither spoke: neither had anything to say. There was nothing but their rising fear, nothing but the sickening feeling of knowing they were captured, knowing Harry and Ron could be lost or hurt somewhere, knowing there was nothing they could do…

~*~

Authors Note: I actually don't mean to always end at a cliffhanger point. It just happens, damnit. Oh well, its no bad thing… keeps you lot coming back…

Draco appears to be acting strangely, doesn't he? I wonder if it could possibly be due to an interesting little thingy that's coming up in a later chapter… hmm…

I did receive a few reviews asking what the pairing was. Consider which groups they've been split into by that sandstorm, consider the recent happenings, consider my previous fics, consider what is written at the end of the summary. You should be able to figure it out :)

As always, review. Go on. Please.

For every review received, Draco and Hermione will be given one crust of bread to eat in their captivity.

Please, think of the characters…