Chapter I
End of the Yearning
__________
Time had no meaning when you're not alive. Yet, death gave him the same emptiness he felt when he was once trapped within the confinement of his own home, kept away from those the he loved. Everyday didn't matter because each one was no different than before. His world was constantly turning, but instead of living, he merely existed. Sometimes he wished he were dead, then the harsh reality would slap him in the face and remind him the awful truth; he already was.
But he would not be some sick coward who chose to curl up and sob in one corner. Many spirits have already done that, and lost what was left of their minds in the process. Thirteen years in Azkaban taught him not to accept weakness. And this place, whatever it is, was worse. At least in the Dementor-ridden prison, there was a constant challenge of fighting his demons inside. Here he was free to roam, but the invisible bars kept him from the world of the living.
Merlin knows how hard he had searched for relatives and friends that have gone before him. What else would you do the moment you find out you're dead? But everytime he came close to a figure resembling the late James Potter, he would turn his back around, realizing that it was another lost soul. Just like him. Colors. His appetite. The feel of the wind in his face when he used to ride Buckbeak high up in the sky. Simple things he took for granted when he was still breathing, simple things he missed the most now. He would never stop searching.
"Things are not going quite well in the real world," a voice rose up from the fog and disrupted his thoughts. Sirius Black lifted his eyes from his bowed head, his vision of the spirit contorted by his raven locks.
"More of those Crossers have been entering our world, speaking to none except the ancients," the spirit continued, brushing his long white beard with his hand. He was standing by Sirius' sitting figure, though uttering his words to no one in particular.
Sirius' charcoal eyes roamed the figure before him, who was dressed in rich, thick robes. Something was so familiar about him, yet he did not know who he was. "Why do you talk to me?" Sirius asked wearily, disregarding the quick rise and fall of hope.
"You seem to be searching for the real world," the spirit replied, and for the first time Sirius had a glimpse of his face. The most intense azure eyes he had ever seen. "I can tell by your glow that you're still… new."
Sirius spoke nothing in reply.
"If you do find a way to get back to the realm of the living, now is not the right time. You'll just end up back here again. The stars have something else planned for their world…"
Slowly, Sirius stood up and studied the man. "Who are these, Crossers you speak of?"
A faint smile surfaced on his transparent face. "Crossers are the people who can talk to the living and the dead."
Memories from his past strained to emerge in his mind, a gradual pain seeping in his head. "I remember," Sirius whispered, as if awakening from a deep comma. "Aren't these Crossers forbidden in the world of the living?
"They are," the spirit nodded his head. "Dark Arts were always prohibited by the Ministry of Magic. But one cannot control all of these gifted wizards who can commune with us as well. Many do it in hiding."
"I see," Sirius replied, leering to himself. What fun it would be to live again and take care of these good-for-nothing wizards. "Why do they talk to the ancients?"
The spirit shrugged and merely brushed his long beard. "It's hard to tell. The urgency of their emotions leads to a lot of speculations. All I can do is guess. But I am not interested in the real world anymore. . One thing for sure though, they are not safe."
"Who?"
"The living."
Sirius Black looked down on his feet. It has been a long time since he remembered the living. Recalling the people he had left so early was a big burden to his heart, that sometimes, remembering his godson was too much painful for him… Yet Harry Potter was still alive, and in danger. Time spent with his godson gradually played in front of him, like one of the theaters in a Wizarding Village.
No. Harry Potter should not end up where he is right now. He doesn't deserve to fight for so much while he was still alive and land in a place where you want to keep dying again and again… Besides. The old man was speaking about an adventure. And he missed the feeling of adrenalin rush.
"Do you know a way to get back—" Sirius voice faded as he turned around once more, finding no one before him. The man, or spirit he was talking to had vanished like a ghost.
Never mind. He would find a way to get back to the living.
* * *
The haunting melody vibrated through the walls as Hermione Granger pushed open the massive iron door left ajar. Her footsteps echoed on the stone floor as she looked around; no living creature in sight. The house was empty, with nothing but slow rhythmic sounds as inhabitants of the lavish shelter. She ignored the priceless Greek statues that guarded the foot of the stairs and made her way up, blindly following the familiar melody in her ears.
Hallway after hallway she passed, certain she was in the right direction. Suddenly, she stopped by a door, where the music seemed to be the loudest. There was a small gap just enough for Hermione to take a peek to see who was responsible for the hypnotizing noise.
But all she could see was a strong, lean back, with silver blonde hair falling over the collar of his black shirt. Once in a while she would have glimpses of his fingers as they placed feather touches on the ivory keys. This room did not have any fancy decorations as the other rooms, save for an ancient violin sitting silently upon a table, waiting patiently to be played again. Outside the sun was shining luminously, but thick drapes covered the light seeping through the windows. Its radiance was not meant for the music he was playing.
Hermione gripped the doorknob and swung it open. Thoughts battled inside her mind as she pondered on what to do next. Two whole weeks of exchanging letters didn't do justice.
"Can't you play something… happy, for once?" Hermione suddenly spoke, her voice interrupting the sad serenity.
The hands ceased, and Draco Malfoy slowly turned around. Two figures, staring at each other in silence, were wordlessly witnessing what they have not seen for quite a period of time. Whether he was surprised or disturbed, Hermione never knew, because as soon as she saw that familiar smirk play across his lips, all emotions were gone.
"Did I scare you?" Hermione asked, dropping her voice to a tease.
The young man arched an eyebrow. "I knew you were here the moment I smelled your blood," He drawled, standing up from his seat and taking his time to close the distance between them. That menacing grin simply did not go away.
Hermione nodded, crossing her arms. "I see," she said slowly. "And I always thought ferrets only smelled daises and tulips in the morning."
"Ah," the young Malfoy snickered. "That proves how much less intelligent you are compared to me," he replied, running his fingers through his hair, each silver strand cloaking his eyes. She could not decipher the indifference in his tone.
"If that's the case, Malfoy, then how come I was class valedictorian and you're not?" Hermione retorted, gaining ground.
"But I didn't work hard at all and still landed second best," Draco answered, without skipping a beat. His taunting smirk chose not to fade. "Imagine where you would be if I did any good back at Hogwarts."
'Breathe…' Hermione thought to herself as she leaned on the door. Draco came close enough to feel each other's breaths on their faces. They stood like that for a moment, staring into each other's irises. Chocolate looking up to pools of gray, only then did she realize the nature of this little conversation. The real Draco Malfoy always reveals himself in her eyes.
"Games over, Draco," Hermione said flatly, regaining the upper hand. "Either you kiss me now, or I'm out of here."
The expression of his eyes grew softer as Draco chuckled, cupping Hermione's face. "Don't get mad, Hermione, I was just teasing you."
"I'm not mad, I'm growing rather impatient," her eyebrows furrowed. "Please?" she added.
Draco smirked. "I just love it when you beg."
She melted into his arms as Draco captured her lips, grateful that days of yearning and aching for him had ended. His cold, smooth lips sent a thousand sensations, taking over her body. He ran his tongue over her sweet lips, asking for permission, and without hesitation she took all of him.
* * *
It was the scent of her hair that told Draco Hermione was in the room. He knew the moment lavander and raspberries filled his nose. But thoughts of uncertainties clouded his mind. Has she changed at all? Did she just show up because she promised? Who knows what muggle summer can do to you? It was better to have his back turned than face rejection up front. But the scent of her hair lingered, and he knew she would stay.
His hand crawled up to the nape of her neck and pushed her gently further into him, claiming everything about Hermione his. Everything was a routine for Draco since summer had begun, and all he was yearning for was the promise that Hermione would come home to him. And this is what kept Draco through his days of organizing his father's companies, wealth, and administering his mother and brother's condition at St. Mungo's. It was not easy coming home from business meetings to an empty house, but the letters that awaited him from Hermione gave him strength to move on. And now that she was in her arms again…
She gently pulled away from their kiss, eyes still closed, but hanging onto Draco for support. "Mmm…" she smiled.
"Honestly, am I really that good of a kisser?" Draco laughed. "Or did you just miss me?"
Her eyes fluttered open and gave him a feisty, warm glare. "I'm so sorry to disrupt your ego trip, Draco Malfoy, but our test is in one hour and I don't have time for you cockiness."
Draco held her tighter and Hermione stifled a moan as she felt Draco's erection against her stomach. "You don't have time for my what again?" His mouth curved into a suggestive smirk.
"I'm serious," Hermione insisted regretfully, pulling away from Draco's embrace. "We have to go now. Harry and Ron are probably waiting at the Burrow already."
"WHAT?" Draco suddenly yelled. Hermione jumped.
"What's the matter?" she exclaimed. "I wrote a letter about it this morning. Told Brisbane to deliver it fast."
Draco involuntarily shook his head. Why do the Wonder Twins always have to be in the picture? "Did you actually see Brisbane take off?"
Hermione bit her lip. "No, I was in a hurry too—"
"Brisbane doesn't wake as early as the other, normal owls, 'love!" Draco exclaimed. "He gets up late in the afternoon, 'coz he's too arrogant to wake up early. Don't you see why I always send you letters only at night?"
"Okay, Draco, calm down!" Hermione shouted, rather entertained by his temper tantrums. "What's the big deal? Now you know, so could we please leave immediately?"
"And I thought by graduating Hogwarts I would rid myself of those two," Draco mumbled as he placed his wand within his pocket. "Did you get here alright?" he asked, closing the grand piano with a soft thud.
"Watch your mouth, Draco, you are talking about my friends," Hermione scoffed as Draco passed her by the door, making his way down to the stairs. "And yes, the portkey you sent me was fine."
Draco climbed down the stairs, his long hair billowing behind him. "Are these your trunks?" He pointed at the three luggages that were piled at the center of the receiving area. "Dimsy! Send these trunks to Hermione's bedroom right away!"
"Yes," Hermione answered distractedly. "Have you gotten a haircut since graduation?" She gave a soft smile to the house-elf who suddenly appeared and gathered her luggage, grown unnoticed by the Master of the Manor.
"Been thinking about it, " came her reply. She followed Draco as he led her to the fireplace, where a huge dragon was carved from the stone. Floo Powder was kept within the dragon's mouth, and Hermione couldn't help but get a sick feeling about Draco's fascination for dragons.
"Why can't we just go straight to the Ministry?" Draco asked one more time.
Hermione glared at him. "I'm the one's who's supposed to be stubborn, remember?"
Draco shook his head. "You go first then," he replied, giving up. He wasn't going to spoil his time with Hermione anymore than it already was.
"Don't worry," Hermione smiled, giving him a peck in the neck. "We'll have time for that later." She raised her eyebrow seductively, and Draco wondered how a few words could turn him on like that.
Hermione grabbed a handful of Floo Powder from the dragon's mouth and stood inside the massive fireplace. "I'll see you there," she winked. "THE BURROW!" she cried out, before she was enveloped with green flame.
* * *
"Sirius Black?"
He didn't stop walking. The voice was unfamiliar to him, or maybe he just didn't recognize it because he only wanted to hear the voice of his friends calling out to him. But the voice persisted, shouting after him with each step that he took. Finally he turned around, aggravated by the voice's determination.
The deceased wizard was smiling broadly at him, although the head was clutched between his two arms. Sirius frowned at the sight of this spirit, who looked very familiar.
Finally a thin smile appeared on his face as he recognized who the headless man was.
"Nearly Headless Nick?"
The upper part of the ghost gave a bow, as Nearly Headless Nick laughed out loud. "Sirius Black! It's been ages since I last saw you! My, you were still a student back in Hogwarts, with those three friends of yours."
Sirius gave a bow in return. "I see you're totally headless now," he replied, curious of the care-free smile on Nearly Headless Nick. "Aren't you going to run away from me, I mean, I did kill the Potters, remember?"
"Oh, heavens, no!" Nearly Headless Nick laughed again, annoying the other wandering spirits passing along their way. "You can't do any harm to me now, unless you carry around a small knife that sliced my neck the other day!"
"Why, is that how you lost your head?" Sirius replied, slightly amused by the spirit before him.
"Well, it was a bit odd, really," Nick frowned, running a thumb over his goatee. "This… boy suddenly appeared from nowhere, and he was waving around a tiny blade. I didn't notice him, so I accidentally passed over him. Next thing I knew, I felt my head on the floor!"
"Really," Sirius said. "So what brings you back here? I mean, if you ever were here?"
Nearly Headless Nick nodded his head. "I know what you mean boy, and trust me, all this changing worlds is still new to me," he licked his lips, as if formulating what to say next. "Well you see, lad, Professor Dumbledore made me go on an errand… You still remember him, of course?"
Sirius Black strained to remember once more, and visions of an aged wizard, with half moon spectacles smiled before him. Sirius slowly nodded. Yes. Dumbledore. He owed his life to that man.
"Well, you wouldn't believe this wonderful news. My request to join the Headless Hunt has finally been approved!" His smile could have reached both ends of his ears by now. "I have a couple of days before I can join them to their trips and their Headless Dwelling."
"That is wonderful," Sirius replied. "But where are you getting at, Nick?"
"Oh, this is very embarrassing, but Dumbledore wanted you personally," Nearly Headless Nick said. "Hogwarts needs a new Gryffindor Ghost."
* * *
TBC
Gods, I do not even know if I'm making sense here… Tell me what you think okay? Thanks so much!