A/N: We love you guys, really we do. And we're sorry for the half-year lapse and I swear on my D/Hr honor that it'll never happen again. School, life, and various writing blocks have been extremely cruel to us, but that's no excuse, of course. hangs head You may blame me because I took a very very long time with this chapter and such. But on a brighter note! We promise you fluff, here! beams proudly at Mari Yes, our resident (and unwilling) Queen of Fluffiness has beautifully weaved in a teensy smattering of fluffishness that I enjoyed and I'm sure you will. We also finally give the ol' plot a kick... and the charrie-development and stuff.
So... read, review, off you go! And the next one might take a long time, as well, 'cause we have to try to remember what happened next. Blegh. --Aria
Disclaimer: Draco, Hermione, and various other characters belong to the fabulous Miss JK Rowling, because if they DID belong to us we'd have them locked in a closet and let them work out all the tension. Hah.
Sweetest Are The Stolen Kisses
Chapter Six
They'd shared a few dates, a few kisses, had a tryst in their sixth year, dated briefly when in adulthood. It had never worked out—she was too much of a friend. But he loved her as he would love a sister, and the utter despair on her face—for him, for herself, for the unfairness and the gray areas of the world—hammered at his heart. He brushed away that familiar fleck of hair that hung down over one eye. True to form, it swung right back.
"Sirius—" she began, grasping for his hand.
He silenced her easily, head bending towards hers. She sought him even as he reached for her, wanting nothing, nothing at all at the moment but her touch. He could feel the tears fresh on her cheeks even as she pulled him lightly down over her, and he wept, too, though it was on the inside. It was her touch that broke him. A touch without malicious intent; a touch that did not hurt and shatter bone and spirit. A touch of simple humanity.
---
Madeleine's stay in Azkaban was not long. It turned out that false accusations had been made against her, untrue splashes of black jealousy to condemn her as a Dark witch. Once her name was cleared, six months after she set foot into Azkaban and chanced upon a meeting with Sirius Black, she was released.
After that night where they lay together, Sirius transformed back into dog form and returned to his prison, where he remained trapped in his Animagus form for a handful of days before he was able to break free and return to human form. The Dementors suspected foul play and tightened security on his cell. As a result that was the last time Sirius ever saw Madeleine again. He was increasingly pulled into an irresistible vortex of darkness after the ordeal of being a wild dog for unending, agonizing days. The little piping voice of hope that had helped sustain him was silenced at last, and he had nothing but revenge to survive on. He rarely thought of Madeleine, if at all, and did not notice Madeleine's frantic attempts to get his attention as she was led past his cell to freedom.
Sirius Black never knew that Madeleine Flatcher carried his children.
---
There is but one way to defeat that which is already dead. Skin must meet skin, flesh must meet flesh, and only will black and white prevail, using magic that wards off perilous, freezing fear, in a time of birth where moon and sun clash, in a place where fire and water entwine amidst turquoise and morning mist. Fate will play her song and accede to an encore.
Draco tapped the page, triumph lightening steel eyes. "Using magic that wards off fear—Expecto Patronum—we never thought of that! A time of birth where moon and sun clash—moonset, sunrise, at the same time, and the snow—fresh snow, birthed by the sky. A place where fire and water entwine; fate will play her song—it all depends on chance, Hermione, chance. It can only be killed in a certain time frame, a certain place. And accede to an encore—we can only do it at a second try! Do you get it?"
"What I don't get is how this fits so neatly into place." Hermione frowned and straightened. "What are the odds that I'll find this just before the Thestral's attacks? What are the odds that this puzzle manifests itself just minutes before the only chance we'll get to kill the Thestral?" she said vehemently, twitching the curtain aside. There were tinges of crimson already on the horizon, wrapping the newly falling snow in feathered fire.
"It makes me wonder," Dumbledore said softly, "why this appeared at all."
Hermione shook her head in frustration and disgust as Dumbledore handed the book to her. She read through the passage again, written in a heavily curling hand, and she read through it a third time distractedly, half an ear on Dumbledore's voice. "It makes me wonder why only you and Draco can read the words, Hermione. I assume you can't read this either, Minerva?"
McGonagall shook her head. "No."
"It appears as English to you, and appears as foreign symbols to Minerva and myself. Why did it appear in the first place? Who wrote this book? Who put such a complex charm on it? Why was it put into the library, so perfectly timed for Hermione to pick it up, for Draco to be accepted as a Governor? Why did it burn, threatening Hermione while helping her? Why does it choose to reveal its cryptic answer only now? What did you and Draco do to trigger this?"
Hermione jerked at the last, looking up with a start. Draco had swung around to look sharply at the Headmaster. "I can accept that I'm trapped in this mess somehow, but why do you say that Draco is involved?"
"The timing is too coincidental to be anything else," Dumbledore replied grimly, blue eyes weighing them both. "Read the instructions out to me again, Hermione."
She obliged, and Dumbledore copied down every word in a scrap piece of parchment, phoenix quill scratching on the paper. He was sitting behind his table now, and they had resumed their seats. Hermione left her robes on the floor with a tossed glance and a shudder. True, they were unmarked and wearable, but it unsettled her.
Dumbledore tapped the quill on the parchment. "Skin must meet skin, flesh must meet flesh. What does that mean? Amidst turquoise and morning mist. What about that? There's something deeper to this than what it seems to be on the surface. Magic is a strange thing, but it is rarely so well-timed."
"Drivel," Draco said dismissively, "simple poetic tosh to make the whole thing look better."
"Do you think so, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore leaned forward on steepled fingers. "Do you think so?"
"I hate it," McGonagall said suddenly, seizing Hermione's shoulder in an uncharacteristic gesture of protectiveness. "I hate the whole bloody thing! It reeks of the Dark Arts. It reeks of everything wrong! I'd burn the thing if I had a chance, if it weren't our only answer to the Thestral!"
"Minerva, calm yourself—"
"I can't stand the damn thing!"
"It is not wholly pure," Dumbledore said quietly. "Minerva's instincts are rarely wrong."
Hermione wished her hand didn't tremble as she closed the book and shrunk it. The entire night was topsy-turvy. Rarely had she seen Minerva display such outward distress; and the whole thing just frightened her to no end. But if Draco was right, they only had half an hour before the sun began to paint the world again. And if it were their only chance, there was no time to lose.
"Well," she said, stooping to pull her wand gingerly out of her robes, "let's go. Looks to me like we're being maneuvered around some game like plastic pieces, and unfortunately I'm more used to maneuvering. The dice are cast. What are we waiting for? We might as well toss out our final cards and pray madly that they'll bring us through this."
She whisked out. Draco followed without more prompting. The Transfiguration professor and the Headmaster's cries of caution dogged their heels, but she had already accio-ed a new set of robes to her and was shouldering them on as they swept down the staircase.
"The dice are cast," Draco echoed with a trace of that old, ironic smirk. Hermione glanced at him and nearly laughed. He was the only man she'd ever met who looked good smirking. "And I've always liked to gamble."
---
"What time is it?" Hermione whispered as she trod carefully around a fallen branch. She was quite sick of tripping, and though her ankle had been healed it was still rather weak. Throwing a glance awkwardly over her shoulder, she tried to catch a glimpse of the watch on Draco's wrist.
"It's about five forty, the sun should be rising in a few moments," he murmured back, eyes turned upward. The forest's canopy was thick and he hoped his guess was correct. He shuddered to think of the consequences of their actions if they were just the slightest bit off on the timing. Of course, he'd done some calculations as to when the sun would rise before he left, but those could have easily been off by a minute or two. According to his watch, they had thirteen minutes until sunrise.
The two tiptoed in silence, their fear of being found just as potent as their fear of finding the dread Thestral. The forest seemed to be alive; all around them there was the creak of the old, gnarled bark of the trees and the constant strange noises of animals they weren't quite familiar with. A branch cracked and caused Hermione to jump and turn, her wand pointed out in front of her.
"I hope we find this thing soon," she said quietly, her eyes shifting from side to side, "because I don't think I can take much more of this."
"Nonsense," he answered, "you've done this a million times. What about all the adventures you got up to in school?" He smirked at her, and Hermione was particularly struck by how he looked under the cold light of the moon. He seemed—she chewed her lip in an effort to recall the word she was looking for… world-weary, she supposed that was what she meant. He seemed so tired, so knowing of the world at so young an age.
And sad, she amended.
Though curious, Hermione didn't allow herself to dwell on Draco's current condition. It was none of her business, after all; the two barely knew each other, and the fact that they were employed by the same people didn't exactly make them friends. She shook her head to rid herself of such thoughts, and instead concentrated on watching her step and trying to figure out the lines of the poem in her head.
Amidst turquoise and morning mist... she thought to herself; what is turquoise? Jewelry, but you couldn't well fight on a pile of jewelry, could you? Eyes, they could be turquoise, she supposed, if they had those Muggle contacts that changed colors, but again, it was inconceivable. The berries on the bushes? Flowers? What, what, what?
"I think we're getting closer to the lake." Draco's voice interrupted her thoughts, and for a moment she felt the urge to turn and berate him for making her lose her train of that. Then she mulled over what he'd said in her mind. I think we're getting closer to the lake… getting closer… to the lake… the lake…
The lake!
"The lake!" she cried, turning and grabbing his arm. "It's turquoise!" At his befuddled look, she sighed. "Amidst turquoise…"
"…and morning mist!" he finished, beaming at her. "Well done, Hermione!" he paused for a moment, then snapped his fingers, "That's it! In a time of birth when moon and sun clash…don't you see? I had to figure out the precise movements of the sun and the moon to calculate the break of dawn…they'll both be over the lake at the same time!"
"Their reflections…" she murmured, beginning to feel an old mischievous excitement enter her bones. "Of course… it's all coming together, this riddle. It's starting to make sense." She smiled and felt a part of her surge when he returned it.
"That was an excellent idea, with the lake. It should be to the right. Quickly, let's head over there. We only have about," he cast his eyes down toward his watch, a new urgency creeping into his step, "seven minutes."
Each of them quickened their pace dramatically, tripping over small roots but refusing to yield to their stumbles and picking themselves up. The lake looked serene and calm, once they reached it. Thoroughly checking their surroundings, the pair found a small cluster of bushes and masked themselves in them to wait for the huge beast to make its appearance.
A few moments elapsed, and Draco noiselessly thrust his watch in front of her face to show her that they had exactly three minutes until the sunrise. Squinting, Hermione glanced at their surroundings anxiously. The Thestral could be anywhere, she mused, her eyes focusing on a point across the lake where she thought she'd seen some movement. Catching Draco's attention she silently motioned to the bushes; he, too, noticed the rustling and nodded excitedly.
"Wait here," he whispered, darting away before she could answer. He went stealthily through the forest; even her keen eyes could not detect his movements. She was suddenly filled with an anxiousness she could not describe. We missed a line in the poem, she thought to herself, what did it say? Her intuition was telling her that it was terribly important…what was it, what was it?
Suddenly, the giant beast emerged. It was large and ugly, but in the same way it moved with a grace she would not have expected from a monster that size. One half of her mind was running through the poem, searching for the elusive line, the other was keeping a sharp eye out for Draco. She didn't like that he'd left her; it was almost insulting. She was just as capable as he. For a moment, she thought that perhaps she should stay, but her pride bested her and she began to follow in her partner's footsteps.
There was no sign of him anywhere in the woods, no broken twigs or footprints. She was torn between watching her step and staring at the Thestral in anticipation. The sun was rising, it's reflection on the lake… right next to the moon!
Now, do it now, she told herself, and began to move out of the forest, only she was too late.
Draco had made himself apparent, his wand pointing directly at the Thestral's head, fruitless "stupefys" flying at its body. He looked desperate; her heart lurched as it began to look as if it would attack. Without thinking, she launched herself forward, running with all of her might, hand clutching her wand in a death grip. Both the beast and Draco turned at her entrance, distracted momentarily. Her body collided with his, sending them both tumbling into the water. The two of them sat in the shallow water, stunned momentarily, Draco recovering his wits first. "What in the hell do you think you're doing?" he cried, but she was already grasping his hand and using it as a support to stand.
Then, as if in a trance, Draco's eyes widened. Hermione only had a glimpse as she was staring intently at the creature who looked quite intent on maiming them terribly. Her glance at him left her bewildered. If there was ever a time to develop a stupid, girlish crush, she berated herself, it was definitely not now! She didn't have time to think about it long, however, because Draco had grabbed her and pulled her to his chest, wrapping an arm protectively around her.
"Expecto Patronum!" he screamed, hugging her closer. She dug her face into his chest, thrown into a mixture of befuddlement, horror, absolute terror, and somewhere deep inside her, a small seed of hope. There was a blast of light and she and Draco were thrown back into the water again, causing a large splash. For a moment, she opened her eyes up underwater and had the urge to scream. Yet her logical side took over, and she brought her head up, immediately looking for the Thestral. Something caught her arm; Draco pulled himself up, the two of them staring at the great monster, who was currently being beaten back by the form of Draco's Patronus. Everything was moving so fast, so quickly, she could not register the form of his Patronus, but a blur of white light here, a flick of a glowing tail there. Everything in heartbeats.
The Patronus sliced through the Thestral, causing it to stumble back. It blinked once stupidly, then fell. She braced herself for a tremble, but right before it hit the ground, the Thestral completely disappeared into thin air. She uttered a small laugh, seeing it gone, but then Draco was hugging her again and all she could think was that she couldn't be how easily she'd been won over…