Chapter 10: Drraaco
"1 Timothy 2:11-15. Mulier in silentio discat cum omni subiectione docere autem. Mulieri non permitto neque dominari in virum sed esse in silentio." Hermione intoned, her mind constantly toying over how she felt about Draco.
"Correct, please continue" said the old priest.
"Adam enim primus formatus est deinde Eva. Et Adam…er….Et Adam…er, I forget. Sorry."
Father Lorenzo hinted, "Et Adam non est seductus…"
"…er…non est seductus in praevaricatione fuit. Salvabitur autem per filiorum…filiorum…er…"
The old priest sighed and shut the psalter.
"Mistress Granger… is something troubling you? You have been distracted all week."
Hermione bit her lip and blushed. "There is nothing, father."
"A young maid does not blush when there is nothing the matter."
Father Lorenzo looked shrewdly at the young girl before him. He had watched her grow up and knew her to be impulsive and strong-willed. "Perhaps you have something you wish to confess?" He asked, gently.
"Confess?" Hermione looked surprised.
Father Lorenzo gave her a knowing look, "Perhaps it involves a man…?"
Hermione blushed even redder.
"I have no beau. You know that."
"Then perhaps it involves one who is not such….yet."
Father Lorenzo had come so near the truth that Hermione felt like panicking. But that would only let the old man know and he might tell her father.
"No!" she said, rather loudly. "If I am distracted, it is only because these passages are so old-fashioned and difficult to understand."
"Do not blaspheme!" said Father Lorenzo, crossing himself. "Your mother should have insisted on bringing you to chapel more often, but she was soft…The words of the bible are beautiful, like pure music that speaks to the soul."
"I'm sorry," she said.
Father Lorenzo patted her hand "For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. Whatever is troubling you, Hermione. Be at ease, for as long as we can love and reason, all will be well."
Easy for him to say, thought Hermione wryly. He was a priest. What would he know about things like this? He didn't understand at all…what she was facing was impossible.
"Let us continue," said the Father Lorenzo opening the psalter, "Repeat after me Hermione… Luke 6:35 But love thine enemies and do good, and lend, hoping for nothing again; and your reward shall be great …"
She tried to distract herself in the strict routine of daily duties. Mornings were spent studying latin and the bible with Father Lorenzo, afternoons were spent seeing to the estate accounts with Audley and Fanhope or working on her sewing. It was only the idleness of the long summer evenings that tormented her, for then she would be left alone with thoughts of him, and whether what had taken place had been real.
She went about her duties efficiently and calmly, but all the while, she felt her thoughts wandering back to him and that look they had shared. She was beginning to understand her feelings toward Draco. During that moment, she knew for certain that he must feel at least of a little of it for her as well. But wasn't that so impossible? They were enemies! Could such feeling spring from deepest hate? And was not Blaise Zabini claimant to such feelings of his already?
Stupid, stupid she scolded herself. Running away had been idiotic, she should have stayed to play it down! So Hermione agonized over what to say to him at their next meeting. Would he laugh at her? Would he sneer? What if she had imagined the whole thing? How long could she go on avoiding him? It had been already been a week…
"The mistress has grown thin," the servants whispered to one another, "she ails."
Mary was very concerned. It seemed that with each passing day, Hermione wilted like a plucked rose. Mary had not lived so long in the world without some knowledge of it, and it seemed to her the only illness that could bring this on was a sickening of the heart…but what was its cause? Her mistress' heart had seemed to be of stone- no suitor thus far had melted it, indeed, that was the greatest woe of her parents. But now, in the way Hermione sat listlessly at her sewing, sighed at the window or tossed in her sleep, Mary was sure that she saw signs of heartsickness.
It pained Mary her to see Hermione thus. If she could but help in some small manner…Perhaps she could think of something to cheer her up.
"M'lady?"
"Yes, Mary" Hermione replied, listlessly.
"I know of something of great fun, M'lady…but you must swear never to impart this to another."
Hermione's curiosity was piqued, and she nodded. "I swear."
"In two weeks, it will be midsummer's eve, mistress. 'Tis a magik time, especially for young maids like yourself."
"What are you suggesting?"
Mary lowered her voice to a whisper. "We do not speak openly of it now, but the old traditions of Feill-sheathain live on. It is a night when young girls may implore the fay-folk to divine their true loves. There are magik rituals that live on, harmless fun though the church frowns on them… and that night is coming. If you suffer from heartsickness, midsummer is a time to settle such matters."
"You believe in fay folk?" Hermione found she was whispering as well.
"I seen them, in Flinders Wood beyond the stream, when I was a young girl. But I never saw them again."
Hermione smiled. "Was it on Feill-sheathain?"
Mary smiled, "Yes. And it was my grandmother who told me what I tell you. I remember it well: t'was Hester Abagnale, Mary Culdon, Ruth Brenthurst and I. We stole out that night, against our parents' wishes…and we ran to the Flinders Wood. For Ruth said she had seen fay-rings there."
"Toadstools?"
"Aye, and we wove our chaplets and sang the old rhyme. And then it happened."
"What?" Hermione was fascinated now. She had never seen fay-folk herself, even though she knew they existed. They were the most elusive of all magical creatures and even Ministry officials were divided on their exact nature.
"We saw them. They were tall and bright. Not like the little fairies my mam used to sing to me about… Grandmother were right, these were like real people, and yet they were not, for the light of the stars was in their eyes. We all saw them, well… all except Hester Abagnale. And she never believed us after though we told her t'was truth. If t'weren't for our chaplets, I daresay we would've been stolen away to fay land. Those fay folk looked longingly at us, and Ruth would've gone with them but that Mary and I held on to her."
"That sounds fantastic…" breathed Hermione.
"But t'was not the purpose of the evening. We were young maids then, and our foolery had a greater purpose…" Mary's needle stopped as the words of an old rhyme came to her, she began to repeat them…
"The young maid stole through the cottage door,
And blushed as she sought the Plant of pow'r;--
'Thou silver glow-worm, O lend me thy light,
I must gather the mystic St. John's wort tonight,
The wonderful herb, whose leaf will decide
If the coming year shall make me a bride…"
"And the glow-worm came
With its silvery flame,
And sparkled and shone
Through the night of St. John,
And soon has the young maid her love-knot tied." Finished Hermione
"D'ye know it, M'Lady?" her maidservant asked in surprise.
Hermione nodded, "But it is an old, half-forgotten rhyme with no truth. 'Tis only for children."
"That is not so, M'Lady" said Mary, her eyes bright. "We all gathered the herb of the saint that night, and what should we dream of with it under our pillows? Why Hester Abagnale dreamt of Joseph Smith, and indeed, today she is Mistress Smith. Mary and Ruth never said what they dreamt, but they are both happily wed now."
Mary sighed. Hermione thought she looked sad.
"I dreamt of no-one that night save a young girl, with a face like a rose, laughing on my lap…which is why" Mary turned around and resumed her cleaning, "…the next year Lord and Lady Granger asked for a nurse for their only child, a daughter, and then I came to you. Yes, it was you, Hermione- I may be an old unmarried maid, but it is my destiny."
"Mary dear as mother," Hermione touched the old lady's cheek gently, "You are telling me this because?"
"Because Feill-sheathain approaches. And you are a fair maid in your eighteenth year. Use your good sense, M'Lady."
"Mary, I thank ye. But I do not believe in such rituals."
Mary shrugged and returned to shaking out Hermione's linens.
"Just thought I'd give you something to go on, M'lady."
Hermione laughed, "If Father Lorenzo could hear us!"
Mary looked worried, "You mustn't breathe a word."
Hermione grinned, "I will not, honour bright."
As Hermione watched her maidservant bustle around the room and eventually take her leave, she couldn't help but be intrigued at how such old English customs could survive despite the best efforts of the church. Father Lorenzo's comforting words came to her again, For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind and she believed that, and took comfort in it. But she also remembered the magik of midsummer 'Thou silver glow-worm, O lend me thy light, I must gather the mystic St. John's wort tonight…" All the half-forgotten rhymes studied in History of Magic now were real for her. If only Professor Binns could see what she was living through now! He would probably have her write an essay on it…
Olde England and fay-folk…were they more active now than in the future? And why? Mary and her friends had seen them easily, and yet, in the future, the best Ministry officials staking out toadstool-rings during midsummer night in hopes of documenting the fay folk came back none the wiser.
Wait a minute.
Toadstool rings?! Fairy rings?
Fay folk meant fairy rings, and fair rings meant...fernseed. Fernseed! They needed to collect that on Midsummer's Eve! Could it be that there was some growing as close by as Flinder's Wood? With a guilty start, Hermione realized that over the last week she had not given the topic of returning to her own time much thought. Her mind had been filled with other things.
Midsummer was only two weeks away- they had to find that fernseed before then. And besides that, there were the protection charms to make- for otherwise, it was not safe to be around fay-folk on midsummer.
She couldn't waste any more time. No matter how she felt about Draco, she had to tell him. Hermione found herself in the narrow stone corridor that led to the small side-door. Her hands trembled as she opened the latch and let herself out.
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"M'Lady?" asked Hibbings, surprised to see the lady in the outer compound.
"Where is Malfoy?" she asked crisply.
Hibbings looked taken aback. "That young scallywag? He's working on the new barn."
"Bring that boy to me."
Hibbings nodded and slouched off in the direction of the new barn. Hermione felt herself panicking at the thought of seeing Malfoy. This was a mistake, she was not ready to see him yet. What if the moment that had passed between them had made things awkward? What if he thought her a fool? She could just hear his sneering voice saying why were you avoiding me Granger? As she stood and nervously smoothed out the folds in her green dress, she realized it was the same dress he had first seen her in nearly three weeks ago.
Hibbings was returning, a lean and tall blonde boy behind him. They were quite far away…then before she knew it, he was before her.
Hermione felt faint and her voice was shrill as she dismissed Hibbings. She still hadn't met Draco's eye. He stood before her, just as she remembered him.
Neither said a word.
This is ridiculous thought Hermione. She tried to say something, but her voice stuck on the way out. Slowly, she raised her eyes to his. She could do this, she could stand up to him.
Draco felt incredibly shy. What if the moment that had passed between them had made things awkward? What if she thought him a fool? He could just hear her bossy voice saying what were you thinking Malfoy?
He hadn't thought about anything else the whole week. The more he tried to fight off those feelings, the more they engulfed him. He had felt his resolve breaking…here they were, five hundred years in the past, with the slimmest possibility of getting back to the future…bloodlines be damned. So why was it, with his mind made up and all that, was he still standing here tongue-tied, like Neville Longbottom being questioned by Snape in Potions?
His eyes met hers.
He had the insane urge to reach out and touch her, but Hibbings was loitering nearby. He wasn't keen on another flogging. Er….what could he say to her to show that he was still cool, self-assured Draco Malfoy? A hundred witty things ran through his mind.
"Miss me?" he said at last.
What an idiotic thing to say Draco! And merlin's beard, wipe that grin off your face. Come on, look cool….fierce…you're the Slytherin prince for goodness' sake… But Draco's muscles were stuck in a permanent grin. It was strange how he lost control of most of his psycho-motor skills when she was around.
Hermione felt the tension drain from her. One whole week's worth of agonizing for this silly, grinning, farmboy?! Hermione Granger, you silly girl!
"I'm not the one grinning like a goofball." She said, and tossed her hair.
Draco made a huge effort to yank the corners of his mouth down. Both of them were relieved to see that they could still have normal conversations around each other, despite what had happened.
"So what's up, Granger? Haven't seen you around for ages."
"Busy. Parents are away, you remember. I have to run the whole place."
"Fancy you'd like that…being so bossy."
"Listen," Hermione "There are too many people around and we can't talk now. There is fernseed- in Flinders Wood behind your cottage."
Draco's eyes widened. "Are you sure? How do you know?"
"Can't explain now. But I'm pretty sure. I'll visit you one evening this week, and we'll go hunt for it."
"I'll try searching for it before then as well."
Hermione nodded. "I'll see you"
She was as lovely as he remembered. This was the green dress she had worn when he first laid eyes on her in the past. That moment was fixed in his mind- how he had looked up from fallowing the herb garden and seen her looking down at him, with shocked, toffee-coloured eyes.
The week without seeing her had been awful for him. He had imagined that she was ignoring him and that she regretted what had passed between them that night. He was getting so desperate to see her again, just to make sure things were all right, that he had even thought of sneaking into the manor.
Now she was standing here before him, in the flesh, not angry with him, not regretful…say something Malfoy, you great, mute, dunderhead…he was trying to…he was so close…
"Malfoy?" she asked curiously. He had suddenly frozen up. "Malfoy, I said, goodbye. Hello…are you there?"
"Yeah…uh…I'll see you soon…" he said at last. But this time he had to have the last word. He had let it go last time, not seized the moment. He felt that this was another chance and he must take it. "…Hermione."
He turned and hurried over to the new barn.
Hermione was so shocked she couldn't believe her ears. The word sounded so foreign on his tongue that he might as well have called her 'Voldemort'. Slowly, she turned and went back to the manor.
A few hours later, during supper, Hermione put down her spoon and knife and stopped chewing. None of the other servants noticed- Audley and Fanhope were busy talking to the under-servants. She took a drink of water and cleared her throat. "Drraaco" she said, softly. Then again, "Draaco".
By her third try, it was perfect.