Chapter 10 Ð Hermione
Hermione bent over the books in the library, quickly skimming through one particular book about creatures of the Dark that she had read so long ago. Her mind was working feverishly as she tried to remember where in the book she had read it, and her eyes walked over page after page of the old, dusty book that seemed to weigh more than all of her 7:th year books.
Vaguely she heard Madam Pince being called away from the library, but didn't pay much attention to it as she flipped a page, humming slowly to herself as one paragraph at first interested her but then turned out to be useless.
She was so into reading that she didn't notice the person coming up from behind that slowly rose the hands towards her head, she just frowned slightly as she thought she recognized something.
A small gasp passed Hermione's lips as she found what she had been searching for and she shook her head in disbelief.
"So I was right after all," she murmured to herself, the truth completely dawning on her. Then her eyes widened as she understood the danger they were all in. "I've got to warn the others.
Making a movement as if to stand up she suddenly fell back into the chair as something blurred out her vision completely Ð and she faded into darkness.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -Ron and Harry were worried. Really worried.
Hermione hadn't showed up for their first class and neither to the second, which was so weird that only that rang warning bells all over the school. Then, a few minutes before the History class would finish, professor McGonagall came into the classroom, calling Harry and Ron out from the classroom.
The worried face-expression Minerva McGonagall had gave Harry a gut-wrenching feeling of that something really, really, bad had happened. And when the professor motioned for them to follow her without any further explanations the feeling was intensified a hundred times.
"Professor, what's happened?" Ron asked anxiously, sounding as worried as Harry felt inside.
She didn't respond; just kept on walking as if she hadn't heard them, which told the boys just about everything and they exchanged horrified looks. Harry read something more in Ron's face and instantly identified it, feeling a sudden pang of hurt inside. It was the same face expression he himself had worn each time that Draco had been off with his father on something dangerous and wouldn't come back satisfyingly quick.
Then he realized they had reached the Hospital wing and Harry felt how his stomach contracted into a big knot that ached tremendously.
Several beds in the Hospital wing were already occupied, but most of the inhabitants were able to sit up. Though a few curtains were sealed and it was towards one of them that they were led.
Madam Pomfrey was already standing there, and when McGonagall pulled away the curtains to let them in they saw something they had not quite expected.
Hermione was sleeping Ð it was just that she wouldn't move and was so pale Ð her skin suddenly reminded Harry of porcelain. If he touched it he was sure of that it would feel that way too and he barely managed to hold himself back from doing just that.
"What's wrong with her?" Harry asked the Professor.
"There's nothing wrong with her, she's just sleeping." Harry barely recognized his friend's voice, it was thickened and strangely hissing, and yet with that certain panicked tone in it.
When Harry looked at Ron he saw that his eyes were bulging and that his facial colour resembled a tad of Hermione's, and Harry sighed deeply inside, feeling deeply for both of his friends.
"Oh, Ron," Harry breathed sadly, seeing the shock in Ron's face.
Madam Pomfrey saw it too, and discretely left to bring the right potion against shock to get him back to his right senses.
"Ms. Granger was attacked earlier in the library," McGonagall's voice told them. "She was hit with one of the most ancient spells ever to exist, which just that in particular is strange. The spell is called Ôthe Devil's sleep', and barely a hundred witches and wizards know of this spell and even fewer how to perform it. Not even Dumbledore know exactly how it is done." At this she paused to shake her head for a mere moment, the worry evident in her face. "During the last century there is only one report of a person being placed under this curse, and that lasted for a full decade.
Here the Professor stopped talking, and Harry found himself thinking about who could have done it.
"Tell me Professor, how does the curse work?" Ron whispered, now calmer once he had been given the potion.
"As far as I know, the person that is hexed falls asleep, unable to wake up until the curse is lifted. And there is no way to lift the curse but if the enchanter does it Ð or dies.
A silence larger than the grave spread itself out among the present, the only thing heard being from on the other side of the curtains.
"So what you say is that she can be like this for the rest of her life?" Ron breathed.
"Unfortunately, yes." The teacher's eyes flicked away and wouldn't meet either Harry's or Ron's, letting Harry know that there was something the teacher held back.
Harry felt how weights placed themselves down on his shoulders, the extreme sadness once again clinging on to him. However this was another kind of sadness, not the one that could kill him. Ron on the other hand seemed as if he just had been sentenced to death.
"Who do you think did this, professor?" Harry asked.
The Transfigurations teacher looked bothered by the question and gave Harry a stern glance.
"I do not know, but whoever it was will certainly be expelled.
At this Harry shrugged his shoulders and then sat down on the bedside, trying to grasp the whole thing.
"Why was it just she that got jinxed and nobody else? Wasn't there a book or something to tell what she was up to? Maybe she caught hold of something she shouldn't haveÉ" Harry knew he was grasping for nothing but couldn't help himself from asking.
"Mr Potter, Ms. Granger just lay over that table, no book or any trace of one. Now if you do not believe me that ask Madam Pince whom will be happy to prove your theory wrong," the professor snapped and then left.
Harry just stared at where the professor had exited, then shook his head and sighed deeply. This was definitely not his day.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -Draco Malfoy was utterly joyous over what had happened to that mud-blood Granger, and he silently congratulated whom ever had had done it.
It was to his greatest displeasure that he didn't, which was the reason why he looked so sour when he sat down in a couch next to Moranna in the Slytherin common room to do some homework. Though after a few minutes he became aware of that Moranna was looking at him, and he turned his eyes to her to see what she wanted. She wore that curious face-expression again, the one tilting her head to the side and looking as if she saw something really amusing.
It usually always got him on the nerves, but that day there was something in it that made his heart skip a beat. And it was not from fear.
"Did you want something?" He asked in a casual tone.
Her slight smile deepened and he found himself swallowing inaudibly at that look.
"No, I have already gotten it," she said, not for as much as a second letting her gaze leave him.
"Being cryptic again, love?" He murmured, throwing the last word so recklessly he thought she wouldn't even take further notice of it. But she did.
"Maybe.
He felt how one of her hands bound itself together with his and he made a slight face at it. The chosen hand was aching quite a lot, the tissue over his knuckles not quite sealed and stinging with pain as she delicately let a finger walk over it. It was as if she searched for signs of weakness on him, enjoyed the pain he felt.
"So, who do you think hexed Granger?" Draco said, desperately trying to get that heart of his to calm down. There was something in the way she did those movements and looked at him that seriously turned him on.
"Someone who knows how to perform the spell called Ôthe Devil's sleep'.
Here Draco looked extremely confused; he had no idea of what she was talking about.
"The Devil's what?
"The Devil's sleep. It is called that due to that only death can bring you out of it.
He looked at her as if she was speaking some unexisting language, confusion spread all over his face.
"Never heard of it.
"Very few have. I believe it to be one of the rarest spells to be used, simply due to that it is tiring for the person casting the spell. It draws energy from both the hexed and the one that prenounced the spell. But the longer one is hexed, the less power it draws from the enchantor.
"How do you know all of this?
"Blood. The knowledge of my family passes through blood. Just like genes, so to speak. I know things that happened very long ago, simply because one of my ancestors knew.
"You mean that you drink of their blood to know?" Here Draco looked thoroughly disgusted, and he found her laughing softly at him to both his statement and face-expression.
"No. It is sort of that it passes with the genes, though in a more direct way with the brain. Memories of the ancients, to see to that none of us forget our past. Their knowledge is my knowledge. Do you understand now?
The nod from Draco made Moranna tilt her head to the other side, as if deciding that she had watched him enough from that angle. But he once again looked at her, questioning her. "Was it you that cursed her?
The smile that now covered her face held a lot of danger in itself, and her eyes sparkled with darkness.
"Maybe I did. Maybe I did not. The one who lives will tell.
Then she licked her lips carefully; letting that pink tongue of hers leave a thin line of wetness on her lips, well aware of that Draco stared at her with a mixture of horror, shock and arousal in his eyes.
"I must feed. I will be back in an hour.
She rose from her position, leaving him to concider her words.
And Draco felt how a knot formed itself in the base of his stomach as he felt how her presence subsided. What the hell had he gotten himself into?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -Draco sat in his bed, leaned back against the wall, holding the letter from Harry in his hands. He read and re-read the letter three times to make sure of that he had gotten it all right, and he found himself smiling at the familiar handwriting. It gave him these little nostalgic memories that he just couldn't get out of his system, the way he used to watch Harry while he worked on his homework or doodled one of those mini-lions and serpents, ensnarled together in peace. Amazing how vivid they would look, those little doodles, Draco still had a few of them somewhere in his room back at Malfoy Manor.
He found himself thinking about all the things that had led to that they ended up together, that very first look he had gotten of him at madam Malkins' clothes. It was then, just in that very moment that he had stepped into the shop, that he had known that this was the love of his life. Even if his senses hadn't been that accurate at the moment, he had known.
Closing his eyes he remembered all those nights he had watched Harry out on the Quidditch-pitch as he flew in break-neck speed, trying to fight off the grief of Sirius. The anger and hurt in his faceÉ yet the ethereal beauty in him had made the whole thing so beautiful.
They were both hurting inside, Harry from losing Sirius and Draco from the eternal grief his mother sent out. He felt the pressure from her as she slowly faded away without Lucius in the house, as he at that point still recided in Azkaban. Driven together by grief yet also by that burning passion, and forced away by the cruelty of his family.
Draco drew a deep and shuddery breath, folding Harry's letter and placed it deep down in his drawer. No matter how much he loved Harry he knew what would happen if they continued seeing one another.
They could never be.