Summary: War has been raging for eight years now, and has hardened the Order of the Phoenix into soldiers with little hope. But can two people – one who cannot remember their past, and one desperately trying to forget it - in their experiences of love, turmoil, and death - make a future? Si/Hr
Main Characters: Sirius Black/Benjamin Smith, Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley.
Pairings: Sirius/Hermione, Draco/Ginny
Rating: R – Sex, language, violenceKneazle: Thanks for the review! I'm very happy with your enthusiasm about this fic. Greatly appreciated! And about the details of SiriBen (that's what I've gone to calling him in my head) looking so much younger… Well, I don't know if that will be revealed soon soon… but fairly soon.
LinNicole: You were my very first reviewer! Yay! Now, I just hope this story goes at least as well as my last, then you can be proud about your status. Hehe. Oh yes, explanations – I know, what the hell is going on? Haha, well it'll all be explained in due time.
Ashlie: Thanks for the review! I hope you continue to like it!
Elizabeth Turner: Haha, I missed your reviews... I always loved what you had to say, and I still do! Thanks!
Madam Sorceress: You're worried about the memory thing? You shouldn't be! Heh heh. Thanks!
Peanut Gallery - Alaska's Own: Aww, thanks! I hope it's good! And I'm glad you like Draco - he's in this whole chapter.
Found Wanting
Chapter 2: Snapping Dragon
"Hermione," Draco nodded back in cold politeness.
Relaxing slightly after realizing he wasn't going to immediately release his anger, Hermione motioned to the private office.
Draco followed her, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his leather coat. His ensemble was entirely black, and Hermione knew it was not because it brought out the paleness of his intense eyes. Black was the color of the times – the color of death, of war. She remembered it well.
Once the door was closed and the blinds drawn, she faced him again.
"How'd you find me?"
Hands still invisible beneath the leather (his left one clutching his wand, she was sure), Draco's silver eyes gave off a faint hint of amusement.
"It's not horribly difficult to find someone who isn't actually hiding."
Hermione sighed in understanding, annoyed that he could still read her so accurately. "I knew you'd find me. You have got Dumbledore on your side, after all," she added, referring to the old man and his seemingly all-knowing nature.
"Oh, so I have Dumbledore on my side, and not you? Joined the Death Eaters, have you?" his eyes flashed indignantly.
"You know that's not what I meant," Hermione spoke quietly. She should have known Draco couldn't hold in his temper for too great an amount of time.
"No, Hermione – no one knows what you mean. Two bloody years! Hardly any correspondence at all! Did you just stop caring about us?"
With a sudden cold resolution, Hermione met his eyes. "Yes."
Without pausing a moment, Draco snorted with disbelief. "Liar."
Looking into her cold gaze, he steeled himself. "Harry's dead. Practically threw himself on Voldemort's wand…"
Hermione gasped involuntarily as tears filled her eyes, clouding her vision. "Liar!" she echoed fiercely.
Draco, slightly pleased upon seeing her angst, quelled his anger momentarily. "Yes, we both are."
Holding in a great sigh of relief, Hermione turned around quickly to cast a silencing charm on the room as Draco took the moment to observe her appearance.
She was clad in dark blue jeans and a simple white top. Her eyes were lined darkly, giving her a smoldering look, as her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail to stay away from her face while categorizing books and the likes.
Basically, she looked the exact same to Draco… despite the color changes in her clothes. Too bright for their world now. He wondered briefly if she even knew why she wore her makeup that way… so dark. Granger wasn't one for the sexy look, and he was absolutely positive it had to do with her dark past.
And now, her dark future.
Fidgeting with her wand in her hands, having finished the spell, she now stood watching the Malfoy watch her. Not one to be outdone, she piercingly gazed at her old friend, scrutinizing all changes that had taken place in him.
Draco had let his hair grow to his prominent jaw, and his build seemed more lean than usual. His eyes seemed older, even as the rest of him remained young. She wondered concisely if her own eyes appeared that way… prematurely old. Why wouldn't they? She had seen nearly as much death and carnage as Draco himself.
"So why did you leave?" he asked, seating himself at the desk and pulling his right hand from his pocket to lay it casually on the shiny wooden surface.
Hermione resisted the urge to grin at his utter need to be near his wand. It wasn't that he had no trust for her – it was that he had grown to know her too well. And one thing he had come to know, was that at times, Hermione Granger could be slightly unpredictable.
"It gets old after a while… watching people die." She spoke quietly, staring submissively at the floor, knowing what she was saying was cold hearted and sick. But, despite that, she had always felt that she could express those types of feelings with Draco… Those feelings that you have, but you won't dare tell anyone, because you know how wrong it is to have them.
"So you left them to die alone?" he asked, brow raised.
Avoiding the question, Hermione asked one of her own. "Didn't you ever just want to leave?"
And to her surprise, he laughed heartily. "Of course!"
"Then why didn't you?"
Draco stopped laughing, tilting his head to the side. "I'm not strong enough."
Hermione snorted. "Not strong enough to run away?"
Draco's eyes turned clearer, and he gazed at her as if trying to see into her mind. "No. Not strong enough to abandon my friends as they wait their turn to die."
"Fuck you," she spat upon reflex, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.
Draco chuckled at this. "Did you think I came by for a chat to catch up on good times? Not that there are any good times… Anyways. You know what I came for."
As her anger fizzled out, she nodded slowly. "To take me back to that hell."
He chuckled again, his right hand now tapping rhythmically on the desk top, silver eyes boring into her. "That hell is where you belong. Not in this dingy little ignorant shit hole. You are magic. Magic is you. You don't belong here."
At the intensity and truth of his words, Hermione sat, too scared and angry to acknowledge his being right.
Grinning, the silvery blond spoke coldly, truly enjoying his next words. "How do you like that, Hermione Granger? I'm bringing you back to the hell you belong in."
Her brown eyes now blank as she flinched at his statement, she whispered. "I don't have to go back."
Draco, knowing that she was not merely uttering some sort of half whispered prayer, but an absolute vow of determination, was about to stand and roar, "I will bloody make you go back!" But, after years of watching the red-tempered Weasel, he knew of its ineffectiveness.
Instead, Draco unsheathed his wand and stood, walking towards the door. "I can kill her."
Taken aback, Hermione's eyes widened. "Who?"
"Her," he motioned past the exit. "That annoying brat that I talked to."
If he hadn't appeared so 'Angel of Death'-ish in his leather coat and pale features, Hermione would have laughed at his description of Celia.
"You wouldn't," she glared, even as she knew that he very much would.
"Oh?" he spat the word out in a higher pitch than regular, once again almost sounding comical, but still appearing completely frightening. "And why wouldn't I? It's just one more casualty in the war, and to get back one of our best soldiers."
"I am not a soldier!" Hermione cried at this. "I am a murderer! That's why I left! It was just so damn easy taking people's lives, and I feared what would come of it – what I could become."
Although Hermione's eyes were shining with tears at this supposed great revelation, Draco snickered. "What? You think you're going to become the next Dark Lord? Jesus, you're a bitch but you're not that big of a bitch!" Her began full-on laughing now, eyes crinkled in mirth.
Completely flabbergasted, she yelled. "I'm a murderer! Do you know what that is?"
Calming himself, Draco looked nonchalantly at a fingernail as he sat down on top of the desk, crossing his legs. "I've only been raised by one, Granger. Get with the program." He looked up to see her glaring, and decided that she wasn't going to drop the murdering issue so easily. "That's what war is – murder and killing. Soldier's just a pretty name for it… like 'Lady of the Night' for a whore." He seemed very pleased with this analogy. Then, almost thoughtfully, he added, "Sometimes I wonder how you ever got to be in Gryffindor at all. You're not as brave as all the rest."
Hermione bristled at this, and Draco, hoping to get a glimpse of his old fiery friend, plowed forward. "You couldn't have been a Hufflepuff, either – that's for sure. They're loyal as hell!"
Out of pure, uncontrolled, frustrated anger, Hermione cracked, pointing her wand at him and screaming, "I hate you!" The cry contained every emotion brought back to her from Draco's renewed presence in her life. She felt as she had the day she left; numb, sick of crying and just wanting to get the hell away from any more of the everyday horror.
Death. She had caused death. The same thing that took her best friend's parents away from him as a child. The same thing that had taken away Sirius. She had caused death.
Although no spell had been spoken, Hermione's cry of hate and the pointing of her wand sent Draco flying off of the desk into the wall behind him. He broke part of the drywall upon impact, and landed on the floor, his own wand still clutched tightly.
"And I hate you!" he yelled back, all of the anger from her abandonment two years ago sending Hermione into the office window. The glass was thick, and therefore did not break, but cracked heavily upon her weight.
Outside, Celia did not notice, for she had taken another lunch break out of pure boredom, and was no longer in the building.
Draco stood first, knocking the chair out of his way to get to Hermione, who was just beginning to sit up. He calmly held a hand out to her, and without so much as a glare, she took the offer.
"But soon we'll love each other again, as always."
And as Hermione stood, she knew, as always, that he was right. Their relationship (once one had been established) was, and always would be, a sort of love/hate. They went from one extreme to another, and neither disliked it nor wanted it to change. It was just how it was.
Harry had a similar relationship with Draco – they respected one another greatly, both for different reasons – but they still managed to have their moments. Draco was colder and more selfish, whereas Harry was kinder and generous. This often led to conflict.
Ron… well, Ron tolerated the cynical blond, mainly for Harry and Hermione's sake. He did his best to avoid Draco, considering they were fighting on the same side now, and Ron's cry of 'Death Eater boy!' was no longer as effective or entertaining as it used to be.
Last but not least in her opinion about Draco, was Ginny. After he had stopped calling her 'Femme Weasel' and taunting her about her freckles in 6th year, she had began to admire the boy for his calm attitude and snippy remarks. And now, admiration had perhaps turned into a tad more. Ginny Weasley was head over heels for the Malfoy, and was positive it was not some silly little girl crush alike to the one she had on Harry. She was in love, and had no intention of acting on it. Being in love meant that when someone died, someone else was too hurt to go on. It was too risky – better to stay unrequited than drowning in despair.
Draco moved to pull Hermione through the door, but she resisted with a small tug of her arm. He looked at her questioningly. He had, of course, expected to bring her to Grimmauld Place at once – willing or unwilling.
"I have something to do tonight." At his doubtful look, she gave more of an explanation whilst trying to remain as secretive as possible. "I might be able to bring something other than just myself into this war."
Draco raised both eyebrows. "And this would be what, exactly?"
Hermione only shook her head in response, denying him any further information on the enigmatic subject. "Can you get me a meeting with Dumbledore tonight? Around midnight?"
Draco, doing his best to trust the woman before him, nodded curtly, and gave her a look that clearly said, "If you don't show, I'm coming for you," before apparating. Hermione was still unsure as to whether the others wanted her to return, or if it was merely Draco telling them all that she must come back to the fight. It was more than likely the latter, considering the vast amount of anger the rest of them held for her. More anger and disappointment than she was sure she could face.
And now, as she looked at the clock in the messy office, she cursed, realizing that she had 13 minutes to get cleaned up from an argument with one friend and to get ready for her 'date' with an amnesiac who may be another friend's long-dead godfather.
Bloody fucking hell.
-----------------
A/N: I know there was a major lack of SiriBen in this chapter, but I had to explain things and show you the unique relationship between Malfoy and Granger. So, next chapter is full of SiriBen! Don't worry!
Review please!