Chapter 52- A Portkey to Our Doom
It was the very end of May. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco were lounging about on the grass during their very last Care of Magical Creatures lesson. For this last lesson, Hagrid had a surprise for them.
"I doubt many o' ye have seen an elf before," he said proudly. "Well, this idn't an elf per se, but e's half elf. Th' other 'alf is woodland faery. 'E should be arrivin' in a minute or so… ah. Ere 'e is."
Hermione gasped, along with most of the other female members of the class, at the sigh of the faery-elf. He was about five feet tall- the product of a tall creature and a very small one. His skin was pale, and shimmered with blue light that radiated from him. His hair was whiter than any Malfoy's, and hung silkily just past his shoulders. Two lovely, delicate wings protruded from his back. He wore nothing but some elegant cloth of a color that was somehow black and white at the same time.
And, he was absolutely gorgeous.
Hermione stole a glance at her gay friends, and saw them staring unabashedly. Harry turned to Ron and began to converse with him quietly. Hermione giggled in a disgustingly high pitch and pressed her face into Draco's arm.
"If you're going to react that way to him, why don't you just have *him* be your boyfriend?" Draco suggested irritably.
"I'm laughing at Harry and Ron, actually. And I love you too much for that, honey-bubble-bear."
He groaned. "Enough with the names, 'sweet cheeks'."
She gave him a warning look before their attention was brought back to the faery-elf.
"Can' speak English, or he'd introduce 'imself. Name's 'Areniul', 'e tol' me. Got traits of both elves an' faeries, this one, so 'e sure is a fascinating creetur. 'S got retractable fangs. Quite a thing, that…"
Hagrid went on for about twenty minutes describing Areniul's less obvious traits. Hermione paid rapt attention, allowing the glowing bluish figure to flood her vision. Areniul endured their stares and sighs for that long. Then he spoke in an unintelligible yet strongly beautiful language, and departed suddenly.
"Ah, 'e never did like hangin' around one place fer long. Ye 'ave th' rest of th' class free. Jess wanted te give yer somethin' special, y'know, seein' as its yer last class."
Every Gryffindor assured him he had done so, and Draco smiled politely, though he did not say anything. The students wandered off their separate ways. In the space of a minute, Harry and Ron were nowhere in sight.
Draco and Hermione strolled over the grounds, hand in hand. They spoke once in a while, and sometimes just walked in silence. It didn't really matter. Hermione was happy as long as she was with him.
"Can you believe it? We're so close to the end. In a few days we'll be leaving Hogwarts forever…" Hermione threw a wistful glance up toward the castle.
"You've been saying that for quite a while now," Draco told her quietly. "I would have thought you would have expected me to get it by now."
Her smile was shy for some reason. "I know. I just can't get over it. Hogwarts has been a second home to me for years now. What will I do without it?"
Draco stared straight ahead, and did not answer.
"You already admitted you would miss it."
He sucked in the warm air, as though preparing to speak the unspeakable. She squeezed his arm briefly, offering him love, and waited. It was all she had to do. He would tell her anything, if she waited long enough.
"Hermione, you remember the day…after I had taught Ginny Occlumency, and you came back to our dorm…remember?"
"Yes," she replied, as slowly as she dared. There was no need to speak of Draco's condition upon her entering.
"Have you been wondering, this whole time, what it was about?"
"Well, I don't spend every waking moment thinking about it, but it has troubled me. I had never seen you like that before. I don't expect I ever will again. And then…"
Revisiting the time when he had virtually ignored her was painful to say the least. She blinked back the tears pricking behind her eyes. "I'm sorry, again. You won't have to feel that ever again, I promise you, Hermione. I was…troubled. I still am, but I can't hurt you that way. And so I risk your life with our relationship. It's selfishness on my part, I know, I only can't resist the thought of your happiness."
"Draco, what are you saying?"
He took a slow breath, closing his eyes momentarily. He looked resolute but far away.
"Draco?"
His head jerked slightly, as though her voice had pulled him out of a memory. He looked into her eyes, searching. For what, she could not tell. Still, she let him search, and whether or not he found it was his business.
"During the course of that weekend, every thought, ever whim, every concoction of fear I have had related to danger to you came to me. I have imagined countless times what my father would do if ever he got his hands on you. It all came from the threat at the beginning of last summer- that was almost a year ago, wasn't it? Ah, well. I have seen you die so many times it makes me sick. I could never bear it if anything like that actually happened."
"It won't Draco. I promise not to die."
He shook his head, a slight smile playing on his lips as he rested his forehead on hers. "You can't control everything, no matter what you say. Were you going to let me finish?" When she did not speak, he continued. She wanted to hear his explanation. She thought she deserved it, after what he put her through. "All those thoughts, those horrible things, sent me into a depression deeper than I had ever thought could exist. I suppose on some level I realized what I was doing, but the depression clouded my mind. I could only think that I would be the cause of your death, and so I had to stop seeing you."
"But how could I do that? Especially when I heard what you said about the way I was acting. I knew then, that I would be the poor man if I did not take the chance, and be with you every moment I could. Even though I could never forgive myself if you were killed by my father. That is why I am selfish. Can you forgive me for that, Hermione?"
She placed her hand on his cheek, her thumb stroking gently. "There is nothing to forgive, Draco. But if you feel there is need, then yes. I could forgive you anything, Draco, and perhaps that is *my* selfishness. Because if I did not forgive you, we would grow apart, in more than one way. I would not live through that, or at least live happily. I can't give you up, and so anything you do is perfect to me. It's wrong and horribly skewed, but I can't help it."
"Well, that's what love does to you," he pointed out sagely. They both smiled, and they shared a perfect, simple kiss.
He pulled back slowly. She looked fondly up at him, reveling in his gaze, basking in his smile. She could practically feel his heart beating in her chest.
Her face fell suddenly. She kept returning to the terrible symbolic dream of the Death Eater who had been intent on killing her. She still could not fathom why she would dream such a thing.
Draco noticed the change in her countenance. "What is it, love?" he prompted.
At the name, she melted, and submitted to his arms. She did as he requested, because she could no longer keep it inside to eat away at her faith. "When we were under that tree, and I fell asleep…I had a nightmare. It was awful."
"Will you tell me?"
She nodded, as best she could while enfolded in his arms. She remained in his embrace as she told him the entire dream.
"I killed you, Draco. I don't know…" she trailed off. Hermione really didn't know what she didn't know. There was just something…some mystery to her.
"You still don't believe I'm not evil?" he seemed amused almost, but sad at the same time. She restrained herself from wiping her tears on his robe.
"No! I know you're not evil, Draco. I do know. I just…oh, everything's wrong about this dream! I don't know what it means, about you, about me. I've been trying to figure it out, and I had to tell you."
"Maybe this time, it really was just a dream. It didn't mean anything."
"You really think so?" She sniffled.
"People often combine fears and thoughts in their dreams, and come out with screwed up pictures. Sometimes, dreams mean the opposite. Did you know that if you die in your own dream, it's supposed to mean you'll have a long life?" Draco looked down at her with a smile.
She nodded, wiping her nose with a finger. "Yes, I read about that when I was about twelve."
"Of course. There's nothing I know that you don't know in more detail from some book." He hugged her again, then cupped her chin in his hand. "Don't beat yourself up. I'm sure it was nothing. And I know you didn't *mean* to kill me, so I'll forgive you for that."
She laughed sarcastically. "Why, thank you."
"Now," Draco said, changing the subject. "Where shall we sit for the remaining fifteen minutes of class?"
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Lucius was impatient to act, but waited patiently for the right moment. He had to watch the school carefully, to scout out the right time to put his plan to action. He had been under the effects of a Disillusionment Charm for a prolonged period, but as far as research could tell, it would not have any ill effects. It was simply- uncomfortable. He refused to let it show. He was a Malfoy, after all.
It was actually rather tedious, scouting a moment. You could do nothing, really, to control the circumstances of such a moment as he waited for. You could only wait, and wait he did…for what seemed like a very, very long time.
He contented himself with coming up with more and more tortures to inflict upon his son. It occurred to him that it would hurt Draco more if he tortured the Mudblood, but that was not the kind of revenge he wanted. No, he needed for Draco to suffer physical pain, for the rest of the life Lucius would allow him. He grinned wickedly at the thought, and dragged up the memory of torturing Draco in the woods, not all that long ago. Happy times, those were. Indeed.
When his son had finally drawn the courage to leave the mansion, Lucius had been quite surprised, and on some level, proud, but angrier than he had ever thought to be with his offspring. Draco had always done as he asked, always been obedient and submissive. Lucius had high hopes for him, and had imagined him rising in the ranks of the Death Eaters as quickly as he himself had. That was, of course, before he had *changed*.
If it was possible to spit a thought, Lucius spat that last word. Malfoys did not change. Malfoys had always been Dark wizards, for as long as he could remember. Not just Dark wizards, but the *best* that could be found. Always at the top of the followers of Dark Lords. Feared by even the most sinister of those followers.
Draco had *changed*. There was no other word for it. Even if he, somehow, had not been Dark in any way, he had acted so. Something had to change in him for him to admit who he was. Draco was disappointing. As far as he was concerned, Draco was no longer a Malfoy.
And the reason for that change, Lucius knew, was the Mudblood. Nothing but a little filthy brat could have made Draco do what he did…though why his son had taken up with a Mudblood in the first place, he could not fathom. Malfoys just did not do it. Perhaps some pureblooded wizards, like the accursed James Potter, would sink low enough to marry a Mudblood. Not a Malfoy, never.
Draco was most certainly *not* a Malfoy. The only claim he could possibly have to that name was his blood.
Lucius could not allow his family's name to be smeared with the disgrace of his own son. He could not allow one measly seventeen-year-old boy to destroy the pride of generations, centuries, by the simple, repulsive act of loving a *Mudblood*. Lucius almost shuddered at that. Malfoys were not supposed to care about love, either.
He could not allow it. Draco had to die.
When Draco had left that day, he had sworn to get his revenge. He had sworn that he would not let anything drag the name of Malfoy into the mud. He longed for nothing more than to see the lifeless body of Draco, his son dead by fault of Lucius's own wand, but ultimately his choice in life partner. Oh, he would have been quite content, had Draco simply followed orders and been what he *should* have, but the thought of killing him put a manic gleam in his eye.
Lucius was going to kill Draco, as soon as he could manage to make him suffer to the maximum. Revenge was so, so sweet. All he needed was…
He smirked as the door to the groundskeeper's house was opened. A girl stepped out and began walking toward the castle.
Lucius turned to look at the sky. The sun was just setting. Then another figure caught his eye. It was Draco, and he was approaching the girl.
Lucius Malfoy stepped forward. It was perfect.
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~* Alternate Magic
Chapter Sixteen: The Properties of White Shields
There is another kind of shield, aside from the preliminary spells that may be performed. This shield is formed without wands or spells. It is usually formed unconsciously at first, though it can be summoned on command with some practice. The shield varies depending on the sheer power of the witch or wizard.
Most likely, the first time you manage to bring up a shield, you will not even realize you are doing it. It is an instinct, similar to shielding some person or some thing with your body, but magic allows it to happen more effectively to ward off danger.
As you will have read earlier, a very important aspect of alternate magic is emotion. Because alternate magic is done without wands, it needs another force to direct the power. Emotion is the most common of these forces. If you are extremely angry or afraid, your magic will act on its own. Usually this is classified as 'Accidental Magic', and dismissed as such. Sometimes, however, in rare cases, it is known as 'Alternate Magic', and in these cases is usually studied to create better understanding.
The effect of emotion on white shields is very pronounced. Often need is another driving force of alternate magic, and white shields can occur very powerfully with the right need. However, emotion adds strength to the shields such as you would not dream. The proportions cannot be described in so few words. And so it will not be told in detail. There are few emotions that do have this effect on white shields, and none of them are dark feelings. Because it is White magic, and very important at that, only White feelings are permitted to increase the effectiveness of the shield.
The most powerful emotion, for any spell, is love. Hence the phrase 'love conquers all', though that is not always true. For white shields, love is often the only way they can exist. If you are protecting someone you love, or doing something for or in the name of someone you love, your shield will be too powerful for any spell to break through. Only at first, of course, because every shield grows weaker eventually, and then certain spells can shatter any shield, no matter how powerful at the time of origin.
Take care with this information. White shields sap much of your power and energy, and after time they will break down. They cannot be used constantly, and if they are maintained for long enough, you may even die. *~
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Harry, Ron and Hermione were visiting Hagrid- it was the same day as their last Care of Magical Creatures Lesson. Draco did not feel quite comfortable in the groundskeeper's home. He had, after all, tried to get him fired his first year teaching. Things being as they were, Draco did not accompany his girlfriend on her visit.
Instead, he paced the grounds within sight of the hut. He was not sure how long they would be there, or what would happen when Hermione finally came out and joined him, but he could not stop himself.
He had not even realized he was nervous until he realized he was pacing, and then had no idea where the feeling had come from. They were still at Hogwarts, even though they only had two more days of classes, and they were safe at Hogwarts.
Then again, there was the Chamber of Secrets, and the Forbidden Forest, and who knew how many other dangerous things on the grounds. And it seemed that Harry's friends were always the ones who found that danger. *And I'm now one of those. Great…*
Still, knowing all this, he did not go through every day worrying over what might happen. Why then, today, not a special day by any stretch, was he so nervous he paced unconsciously? Why was he suddenly afraid of something horrible happening to people he cared about?
Because he knew his father, he concluded. Their situation, at that moment, seemed too precarious. Harry and Ron, and Hermione, while competent with their knowledge of magic, were not adults, and had not the experience to fight off a Death Eater such as Lucius. Their only supervision was a half-giant whose license to practice magic had been revoked years ago. And the sun was setting…
He concentrated on Hermione, thinking to get away from his own thoughts. She had been wearing a faded pair of flared jeans that day, after classes, and a black hooded sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up past the elbows. This she had left unzipped enough to glimpse her purple tank top. Her hair had been pulled back, and hung in a long, thick ponytail down her back. He smiled. She was always so perfect…
He looked down at himself momentarily. He may act differently, but he still took pride in his looks, and dressed just as immaculately now as he had when he had been acting like a good little mini-Death-Eater. That day, he was wearing plain, perfect black pants and a white shirt, with the top few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up. His hair was slicked back as always. He knew he looked perfect. Contented with this, he glanced back toward Hagrid's house…
The door opened. Draco squinted slightly to see who was emerging. Sure enough, it was Hermione. Well, good. He was tired of waiting. He began to walk toward her.
Now something that had been tugging at him caught his attention again. As he paced, he kept thinking he had seen parts of the forest and landscape move, as though some chameleon being was hovering on the edge of action. He dismissed it as overactive imagination, because he knew people saw things more often when they were being paranoid.
He saw what he had dismissed glide toward Hermione, and quickened his pace. He cursed himself for doubting his dread. Since knowing Hermione, he had somehow known that things would come to this, and that he would have to be on guard for it. Of course, on the day he felt most warned, he had to dismiss it. *Curse me with all the horrible dark curses I can drag up if anything happens to her.*
He was close enough now to see her eyes grow wide with fear, and just as he saw the Disillusionment Charm melt away from his father, Hermione's thoughts exploded into his mind. At first he was confused, but realized within seconds that it was the Empathy Solution taking effect at last.
*The Forest, he's taking me to the Forest. Whatever you do, Draco, don't follow. Don't come after me, it's a trap, he'll kill you if you come.*
Draco thought back to her, with fearful certainty, *He'll kill you if I don't.*
He was drawing ever closer, but knew he was too far to prevent it from happening. *Just let it happen. I'll be all right, Draco. I can take care of myself, and I promise I will come back to you-*
As she said this, Draco was within only a few feet of them. He saw the wicked glint in Lucius's eye, and heard Hermione's gasp as her thought cut off, and they disappeared. Draco stopped running suddenly, stopped where they had previously stood.
"The Forest," he repeated quietly. "No…why…it had to be the Forest, you bloody pawn of evil."
"Draco!" Harry called, jogging up to him. Ron followed closely, and both were slightly winded when they got there. "We heard you calling Hermione's name. What happened?"
Draco had not even realized he had spoken her name aloud. His thoughts stopped him from knowing what exactly he was doing. He acted only on instinct. "Lucius, he took her. He took her into the Forest."
"What?!" Ron exclaimed. "Why do you have to have such bloody bastards for relatives?"
"It's only my father," Draco defended, "but that's not important now. I have to go after them. He'll kill her, I know he will. If for no other reason than to cause me pain…but there is another reason, make no mistake. Hermione's a Muggle-born. Now that he has her in his clutches, he won't let go until-"
He cut himself off, knowing what it would take, trusting that he could do it, and knowing that he had to, but unwilling to speak it aloud before the deed was done, for fear of jinxing it.
"How? How will you find them? Unless he left a Portkey that will take you right to them…" Harry did not finish the thought. There was no need.
"I have that all figured out." Draco held up his left hand, displaying to them the silver dragon on his finger. "This will take me directly to Hermione's side. The only problem is what we'll find when we get there."
"We?" Harry repeated suspiciously.
"Well, I don't expect you to stay here. From what I've seen, you've never been one to sit back and watch, hoping everything will turn out all right. You're the one who goes to make it that way."
Harry and Ron exchanged- guilty?- half smiles, and determinedly nodded. "Right. So…what do you think we might find?"
"Possibly us outnumbered by Death Eaters. Possibly Hermione…already…or being tortured… or other things I will not speak of. Possibly this was a trap for all of us, and Voldemort will be there waiting for you, while my father 'deals' with me. I cannot say, I wasn't there when they planned it, and I don't get that information secondhand as much as I used to." He smiled wryly. "But I do know that it will be incredibly dangerous. I know both of you are willing to risk that, but I thought you should be warned in advance."
"That's very thoughtful of you," Harry said, pulling his wand out. Ron did the same. Wondering why he had not already taken his own wand from its place, Draco was suddenly holding his own in his hand.
"So…" Harry began. "How does this work?" He gestured to Draco's hand.
"Both of you will have to touch me," he said. He held his left hand out to Harry, who clasped it firmly. They exchanged a look of determination, one that said both of them were willing to do whatever it took to do whatever needed doing. Harry broke it first, looking over at Ron.
Of all things to do at a time like this, Weasley stood dubiously a few feet away, suspiciously eyeing Draco. "We don't have time for this, Ron!" Harry shouted exasperatedly.
His expression hardened, and he closed the gap between them. "I still don't quite trust you," he said bluntly, "But Hermione does, and so does Harry. And this is the only way we'll get Hermione back."
Ron placed his hand on top of theirs. Draco was reminded ironically of the "hands in" approach to psyching up the Quidditch team. Draco gave Ron the same I'll-die-for-Hermione look he had offered to Harry, and then looked down at his own hand.
*Take us to Hermione,* he willed the ring. He felt a jerk behind his navel, and the world spun before his eyes.
End Chapter 52
Well…I got some reviews for the last chapter. I posted this chapter. Blah blah blah. This chapter is long. Look at me, I know how to state the obvious!
Little tiny dragon portkey confetti. No, it's not activated, you have to do that yourself.
It was the very end of May. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco were lounging about on the grass during their very last Care of Magical Creatures lesson. For this last lesson, Hagrid had a surprise for them.
"I doubt many o' ye have seen an elf before," he said proudly. "Well, this idn't an elf per se, but e's half elf. Th' other 'alf is woodland faery. 'E should be arrivin' in a minute or so… ah. Ere 'e is."
Hermione gasped, along with most of the other female members of the class, at the sigh of the faery-elf. He was about five feet tall- the product of a tall creature and a very small one. His skin was pale, and shimmered with blue light that radiated from him. His hair was whiter than any Malfoy's, and hung silkily just past his shoulders. Two lovely, delicate wings protruded from his back. He wore nothing but some elegant cloth of a color that was somehow black and white at the same time.
And, he was absolutely gorgeous.
Hermione stole a glance at her gay friends, and saw them staring unabashedly. Harry turned to Ron and began to converse with him quietly. Hermione giggled in a disgustingly high pitch and pressed her face into Draco's arm.
"If you're going to react that way to him, why don't you just have *him* be your boyfriend?" Draco suggested irritably.
"I'm laughing at Harry and Ron, actually. And I love you too much for that, honey-bubble-bear."
He groaned. "Enough with the names, 'sweet cheeks'."
She gave him a warning look before their attention was brought back to the faery-elf.
"Can' speak English, or he'd introduce 'imself. Name's 'Areniul', 'e tol' me. Got traits of both elves an' faeries, this one, so 'e sure is a fascinating creetur. 'S got retractable fangs. Quite a thing, that…"
Hagrid went on for about twenty minutes describing Areniul's less obvious traits. Hermione paid rapt attention, allowing the glowing bluish figure to flood her vision. Areniul endured their stares and sighs for that long. Then he spoke in an unintelligible yet strongly beautiful language, and departed suddenly.
"Ah, 'e never did like hangin' around one place fer long. Ye 'ave th' rest of th' class free. Jess wanted te give yer somethin' special, y'know, seein' as its yer last class."
Every Gryffindor assured him he had done so, and Draco smiled politely, though he did not say anything. The students wandered off their separate ways. In the space of a minute, Harry and Ron were nowhere in sight.
Draco and Hermione strolled over the grounds, hand in hand. They spoke once in a while, and sometimes just walked in silence. It didn't really matter. Hermione was happy as long as she was with him.
"Can you believe it? We're so close to the end. In a few days we'll be leaving Hogwarts forever…" Hermione threw a wistful glance up toward the castle.
"You've been saying that for quite a while now," Draco told her quietly. "I would have thought you would have expected me to get it by now."
Her smile was shy for some reason. "I know. I just can't get over it. Hogwarts has been a second home to me for years now. What will I do without it?"
Draco stared straight ahead, and did not answer.
"You already admitted you would miss it."
He sucked in the warm air, as though preparing to speak the unspeakable. She squeezed his arm briefly, offering him love, and waited. It was all she had to do. He would tell her anything, if she waited long enough.
"Hermione, you remember the day…after I had taught Ginny Occlumency, and you came back to our dorm…remember?"
"Yes," she replied, as slowly as she dared. There was no need to speak of Draco's condition upon her entering.
"Have you been wondering, this whole time, what it was about?"
"Well, I don't spend every waking moment thinking about it, but it has troubled me. I had never seen you like that before. I don't expect I ever will again. And then…"
Revisiting the time when he had virtually ignored her was painful to say the least. She blinked back the tears pricking behind her eyes. "I'm sorry, again. You won't have to feel that ever again, I promise you, Hermione. I was…troubled. I still am, but I can't hurt you that way. And so I risk your life with our relationship. It's selfishness on my part, I know, I only can't resist the thought of your happiness."
"Draco, what are you saying?"
He took a slow breath, closing his eyes momentarily. He looked resolute but far away.
"Draco?"
His head jerked slightly, as though her voice had pulled him out of a memory. He looked into her eyes, searching. For what, she could not tell. Still, she let him search, and whether or not he found it was his business.
"During the course of that weekend, every thought, ever whim, every concoction of fear I have had related to danger to you came to me. I have imagined countless times what my father would do if ever he got his hands on you. It all came from the threat at the beginning of last summer- that was almost a year ago, wasn't it? Ah, well. I have seen you die so many times it makes me sick. I could never bear it if anything like that actually happened."
"It won't Draco. I promise not to die."
He shook his head, a slight smile playing on his lips as he rested his forehead on hers. "You can't control everything, no matter what you say. Were you going to let me finish?" When she did not speak, he continued. She wanted to hear his explanation. She thought she deserved it, after what he put her through. "All those thoughts, those horrible things, sent me into a depression deeper than I had ever thought could exist. I suppose on some level I realized what I was doing, but the depression clouded my mind. I could only think that I would be the cause of your death, and so I had to stop seeing you."
"But how could I do that? Especially when I heard what you said about the way I was acting. I knew then, that I would be the poor man if I did not take the chance, and be with you every moment I could. Even though I could never forgive myself if you were killed by my father. That is why I am selfish. Can you forgive me for that, Hermione?"
She placed her hand on his cheek, her thumb stroking gently. "There is nothing to forgive, Draco. But if you feel there is need, then yes. I could forgive you anything, Draco, and perhaps that is *my* selfishness. Because if I did not forgive you, we would grow apart, in more than one way. I would not live through that, or at least live happily. I can't give you up, and so anything you do is perfect to me. It's wrong and horribly skewed, but I can't help it."
"Well, that's what love does to you," he pointed out sagely. They both smiled, and they shared a perfect, simple kiss.
He pulled back slowly. She looked fondly up at him, reveling in his gaze, basking in his smile. She could practically feel his heart beating in her chest.
Her face fell suddenly. She kept returning to the terrible symbolic dream of the Death Eater who had been intent on killing her. She still could not fathom why she would dream such a thing.
Draco noticed the change in her countenance. "What is it, love?" he prompted.
At the name, she melted, and submitted to his arms. She did as he requested, because she could no longer keep it inside to eat away at her faith. "When we were under that tree, and I fell asleep…I had a nightmare. It was awful."
"Will you tell me?"
She nodded, as best she could while enfolded in his arms. She remained in his embrace as she told him the entire dream.
"I killed you, Draco. I don't know…" she trailed off. Hermione really didn't know what she didn't know. There was just something…some mystery to her.
"You still don't believe I'm not evil?" he seemed amused almost, but sad at the same time. She restrained herself from wiping her tears on his robe.
"No! I know you're not evil, Draco. I do know. I just…oh, everything's wrong about this dream! I don't know what it means, about you, about me. I've been trying to figure it out, and I had to tell you."
"Maybe this time, it really was just a dream. It didn't mean anything."
"You really think so?" She sniffled.
"People often combine fears and thoughts in their dreams, and come out with screwed up pictures. Sometimes, dreams mean the opposite. Did you know that if you die in your own dream, it's supposed to mean you'll have a long life?" Draco looked down at her with a smile.
She nodded, wiping her nose with a finger. "Yes, I read about that when I was about twelve."
"Of course. There's nothing I know that you don't know in more detail from some book." He hugged her again, then cupped her chin in his hand. "Don't beat yourself up. I'm sure it was nothing. And I know you didn't *mean* to kill me, so I'll forgive you for that."
She laughed sarcastically. "Why, thank you."
"Now," Draco said, changing the subject. "Where shall we sit for the remaining fifteen minutes of class?"
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Lucius was impatient to act, but waited patiently for the right moment. He had to watch the school carefully, to scout out the right time to put his plan to action. He had been under the effects of a Disillusionment Charm for a prolonged period, but as far as research could tell, it would not have any ill effects. It was simply- uncomfortable. He refused to let it show. He was a Malfoy, after all.
It was actually rather tedious, scouting a moment. You could do nothing, really, to control the circumstances of such a moment as he waited for. You could only wait, and wait he did…for what seemed like a very, very long time.
He contented himself with coming up with more and more tortures to inflict upon his son. It occurred to him that it would hurt Draco more if he tortured the Mudblood, but that was not the kind of revenge he wanted. No, he needed for Draco to suffer physical pain, for the rest of the life Lucius would allow him. He grinned wickedly at the thought, and dragged up the memory of torturing Draco in the woods, not all that long ago. Happy times, those were. Indeed.
When his son had finally drawn the courage to leave the mansion, Lucius had been quite surprised, and on some level, proud, but angrier than he had ever thought to be with his offspring. Draco had always done as he asked, always been obedient and submissive. Lucius had high hopes for him, and had imagined him rising in the ranks of the Death Eaters as quickly as he himself had. That was, of course, before he had *changed*.
If it was possible to spit a thought, Lucius spat that last word. Malfoys did not change. Malfoys had always been Dark wizards, for as long as he could remember. Not just Dark wizards, but the *best* that could be found. Always at the top of the followers of Dark Lords. Feared by even the most sinister of those followers.
Draco had *changed*. There was no other word for it. Even if he, somehow, had not been Dark in any way, he had acted so. Something had to change in him for him to admit who he was. Draco was disappointing. As far as he was concerned, Draco was no longer a Malfoy.
And the reason for that change, Lucius knew, was the Mudblood. Nothing but a little filthy brat could have made Draco do what he did…though why his son had taken up with a Mudblood in the first place, he could not fathom. Malfoys just did not do it. Perhaps some pureblooded wizards, like the accursed James Potter, would sink low enough to marry a Mudblood. Not a Malfoy, never.
Draco was most certainly *not* a Malfoy. The only claim he could possibly have to that name was his blood.
Lucius could not allow his family's name to be smeared with the disgrace of his own son. He could not allow one measly seventeen-year-old boy to destroy the pride of generations, centuries, by the simple, repulsive act of loving a *Mudblood*. Lucius almost shuddered at that. Malfoys were not supposed to care about love, either.
He could not allow it. Draco had to die.
When Draco had left that day, he had sworn to get his revenge. He had sworn that he would not let anything drag the name of Malfoy into the mud. He longed for nothing more than to see the lifeless body of Draco, his son dead by fault of Lucius's own wand, but ultimately his choice in life partner. Oh, he would have been quite content, had Draco simply followed orders and been what he *should* have, but the thought of killing him put a manic gleam in his eye.
Lucius was going to kill Draco, as soon as he could manage to make him suffer to the maximum. Revenge was so, so sweet. All he needed was…
He smirked as the door to the groundskeeper's house was opened. A girl stepped out and began walking toward the castle.
Lucius turned to look at the sky. The sun was just setting. Then another figure caught his eye. It was Draco, and he was approaching the girl.
Lucius Malfoy stepped forward. It was perfect.
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~* Alternate Magic
Chapter Sixteen: The Properties of White Shields
There is another kind of shield, aside from the preliminary spells that may be performed. This shield is formed without wands or spells. It is usually formed unconsciously at first, though it can be summoned on command with some practice. The shield varies depending on the sheer power of the witch or wizard.
Most likely, the first time you manage to bring up a shield, you will not even realize you are doing it. It is an instinct, similar to shielding some person or some thing with your body, but magic allows it to happen more effectively to ward off danger.
As you will have read earlier, a very important aspect of alternate magic is emotion. Because alternate magic is done without wands, it needs another force to direct the power. Emotion is the most common of these forces. If you are extremely angry or afraid, your magic will act on its own. Usually this is classified as 'Accidental Magic', and dismissed as such. Sometimes, however, in rare cases, it is known as 'Alternate Magic', and in these cases is usually studied to create better understanding.
The effect of emotion on white shields is very pronounced. Often need is another driving force of alternate magic, and white shields can occur very powerfully with the right need. However, emotion adds strength to the shields such as you would not dream. The proportions cannot be described in so few words. And so it will not be told in detail. There are few emotions that do have this effect on white shields, and none of them are dark feelings. Because it is White magic, and very important at that, only White feelings are permitted to increase the effectiveness of the shield.
The most powerful emotion, for any spell, is love. Hence the phrase 'love conquers all', though that is not always true. For white shields, love is often the only way they can exist. If you are protecting someone you love, or doing something for or in the name of someone you love, your shield will be too powerful for any spell to break through. Only at first, of course, because every shield grows weaker eventually, and then certain spells can shatter any shield, no matter how powerful at the time of origin.
Take care with this information. White shields sap much of your power and energy, and after time they will break down. They cannot be used constantly, and if they are maintained for long enough, you may even die. *~
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Harry, Ron and Hermione were visiting Hagrid- it was the same day as their last Care of Magical Creatures Lesson. Draco did not feel quite comfortable in the groundskeeper's home. He had, after all, tried to get him fired his first year teaching. Things being as they were, Draco did not accompany his girlfriend on her visit.
Instead, he paced the grounds within sight of the hut. He was not sure how long they would be there, or what would happen when Hermione finally came out and joined him, but he could not stop himself.
He had not even realized he was nervous until he realized he was pacing, and then had no idea where the feeling had come from. They were still at Hogwarts, even though they only had two more days of classes, and they were safe at Hogwarts.
Then again, there was the Chamber of Secrets, and the Forbidden Forest, and who knew how many other dangerous things on the grounds. And it seemed that Harry's friends were always the ones who found that danger. *And I'm now one of those. Great…*
Still, knowing all this, he did not go through every day worrying over what might happen. Why then, today, not a special day by any stretch, was he so nervous he paced unconsciously? Why was he suddenly afraid of something horrible happening to people he cared about?
Because he knew his father, he concluded. Their situation, at that moment, seemed too precarious. Harry and Ron, and Hermione, while competent with their knowledge of magic, were not adults, and had not the experience to fight off a Death Eater such as Lucius. Their only supervision was a half-giant whose license to practice magic had been revoked years ago. And the sun was setting…
He concentrated on Hermione, thinking to get away from his own thoughts. She had been wearing a faded pair of flared jeans that day, after classes, and a black hooded sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up past the elbows. This she had left unzipped enough to glimpse her purple tank top. Her hair had been pulled back, and hung in a long, thick ponytail down her back. He smiled. She was always so perfect…
He looked down at himself momentarily. He may act differently, but he still took pride in his looks, and dressed just as immaculately now as he had when he had been acting like a good little mini-Death-Eater. That day, he was wearing plain, perfect black pants and a white shirt, with the top few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up. His hair was slicked back as always. He knew he looked perfect. Contented with this, he glanced back toward Hagrid's house…
The door opened. Draco squinted slightly to see who was emerging. Sure enough, it was Hermione. Well, good. He was tired of waiting. He began to walk toward her.
Now something that had been tugging at him caught his attention again. As he paced, he kept thinking he had seen parts of the forest and landscape move, as though some chameleon being was hovering on the edge of action. He dismissed it as overactive imagination, because he knew people saw things more often when they were being paranoid.
He saw what he had dismissed glide toward Hermione, and quickened his pace. He cursed himself for doubting his dread. Since knowing Hermione, he had somehow known that things would come to this, and that he would have to be on guard for it. Of course, on the day he felt most warned, he had to dismiss it. *Curse me with all the horrible dark curses I can drag up if anything happens to her.*
He was close enough now to see her eyes grow wide with fear, and just as he saw the Disillusionment Charm melt away from his father, Hermione's thoughts exploded into his mind. At first he was confused, but realized within seconds that it was the Empathy Solution taking effect at last.
*The Forest, he's taking me to the Forest. Whatever you do, Draco, don't follow. Don't come after me, it's a trap, he'll kill you if you come.*
Draco thought back to her, with fearful certainty, *He'll kill you if I don't.*
He was drawing ever closer, but knew he was too far to prevent it from happening. *Just let it happen. I'll be all right, Draco. I can take care of myself, and I promise I will come back to you-*
As she said this, Draco was within only a few feet of them. He saw the wicked glint in Lucius's eye, and heard Hermione's gasp as her thought cut off, and they disappeared. Draco stopped running suddenly, stopped where they had previously stood.
"The Forest," he repeated quietly. "No…why…it had to be the Forest, you bloody pawn of evil."
"Draco!" Harry called, jogging up to him. Ron followed closely, and both were slightly winded when they got there. "We heard you calling Hermione's name. What happened?"
Draco had not even realized he had spoken her name aloud. His thoughts stopped him from knowing what exactly he was doing. He acted only on instinct. "Lucius, he took her. He took her into the Forest."
"What?!" Ron exclaimed. "Why do you have to have such bloody bastards for relatives?"
"It's only my father," Draco defended, "but that's not important now. I have to go after them. He'll kill her, I know he will. If for no other reason than to cause me pain…but there is another reason, make no mistake. Hermione's a Muggle-born. Now that he has her in his clutches, he won't let go until-"
He cut himself off, knowing what it would take, trusting that he could do it, and knowing that he had to, but unwilling to speak it aloud before the deed was done, for fear of jinxing it.
"How? How will you find them? Unless he left a Portkey that will take you right to them…" Harry did not finish the thought. There was no need.
"I have that all figured out." Draco held up his left hand, displaying to them the silver dragon on his finger. "This will take me directly to Hermione's side. The only problem is what we'll find when we get there."
"We?" Harry repeated suspiciously.
"Well, I don't expect you to stay here. From what I've seen, you've never been one to sit back and watch, hoping everything will turn out all right. You're the one who goes to make it that way."
Harry and Ron exchanged- guilty?- half smiles, and determinedly nodded. "Right. So…what do you think we might find?"
"Possibly us outnumbered by Death Eaters. Possibly Hermione…already…or being tortured… or other things I will not speak of. Possibly this was a trap for all of us, and Voldemort will be there waiting for you, while my father 'deals' with me. I cannot say, I wasn't there when they planned it, and I don't get that information secondhand as much as I used to." He smiled wryly. "But I do know that it will be incredibly dangerous. I know both of you are willing to risk that, but I thought you should be warned in advance."
"That's very thoughtful of you," Harry said, pulling his wand out. Ron did the same. Wondering why he had not already taken his own wand from its place, Draco was suddenly holding his own in his hand.
"So…" Harry began. "How does this work?" He gestured to Draco's hand.
"Both of you will have to touch me," he said. He held his left hand out to Harry, who clasped it firmly. They exchanged a look of determination, one that said both of them were willing to do whatever it took to do whatever needed doing. Harry broke it first, looking over at Ron.
Of all things to do at a time like this, Weasley stood dubiously a few feet away, suspiciously eyeing Draco. "We don't have time for this, Ron!" Harry shouted exasperatedly.
His expression hardened, and he closed the gap between them. "I still don't quite trust you," he said bluntly, "But Hermione does, and so does Harry. And this is the only way we'll get Hermione back."
Ron placed his hand on top of theirs. Draco was reminded ironically of the "hands in" approach to psyching up the Quidditch team. Draco gave Ron the same I'll-die-for-Hermione look he had offered to Harry, and then looked down at his own hand.
*Take us to Hermione,* he willed the ring. He felt a jerk behind his navel, and the world spun before his eyes.
End Chapter 52
Well…I got some reviews for the last chapter. I posted this chapter. Blah blah blah. This chapter is long. Look at me, I know how to state the obvious!
Little tiny dragon portkey confetti. No, it's not activated, you have to do that yourself.