Disclaimer: Howdy y'all! Here I am on my ranch, hangin' round them there horses and sharin' manly stories with my fellas about flatulence and the like. Suddenly, one of em here asked me, 'Hey, Helena, you write all them nice books about the little wizard kid?' I says to him, 'Nope.'
Author's Note: I decided, hey, I might not like disclaimers, but why not have a little fun with them? Chibimecools and In Dream, thank you for the note on the rain song. I think that must be where it came from. Somehow, "shoo shoo" was in my head. Don't know where that came from. Gee, I'm glad you all don't judge me on my dumbness. Well, at least not out in the open. Okay, about the story, I decided that my readers will probably really like this next chapter or really hate it, because it's just a lot of talking again and figuring stuff out. I was actually very proud of my little figuring, but hey! not everyone will be. Um, I'm starting school again on Monday and may I just say- "NOOOOO" I'm sure you all agree.
Chapter 9: A Subtle and Scary Letter
Draco woke nearly an hour earlier than Hermione. He smiled at her delicate figure that carefully took up only her side of the bed, though the other had been unoccupied. He smiled at how the white sheets now had a glossy blue hue in places from the smudged chalk that had rubbed off during the night. The endearing thought brought him to his senses of his own appearance and upon entering the bathroom, started in surprise at the unkempt being standing before him.
He was quickly in the shower, washed up, and out again, dressing for another day of school when he heard a knock at the door. He softly sighed; he didn't think Harry would be back so early. Silently, he crept through the room, pulling his pants on as he went, forgetting the shirt, more than a little prepared to shout the head off of Potter. However, it wasn't Harry that he met at the door, it was one Professor Snape.
"Professor?" Draco asked, hastily closing the door to only a small aperture, closing himself in the gap, so as to hide Hermione's sleeping body in his bed.
"I'm sorry to bother you so early, Mr. Malfoy, but your father sent me an owl last night. One that was quite odd, actually, and I decided that it really was more to your purpose than mine. I wanted to catch you before breakfast so that we didn't have to bother with it during class."
"Yes, Professor," Draco said, his mind going wild with dread, "I understand, but now's not the best time for me."
"Why not?" he seemed to think the question wasn't forward in the least, fairly contrary to Draco's way of thinking.
"Well," now Draco needed a reason, "for one, my room's a wreck," he said, a nervous laugh trailing the statement.
Snape cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms, waiting for further explanation.
"Besides," Draco suddenly grabbed his head in his hands, "I have such an awful headache, I was just on my way to the Hospital Wing."
"Uh huh," Snape said, unimpressed. "Mr. Malfoy, please, I would have expected better from you than such a ridiculous lie as that."
Snape pushed past Draco, who had momentarily let his guard down, and waltzed into the dormitory.
"Professor!" Draco squealed in an almost inaudibly high pitch. "Wait," he said calmly as he met his professor halfway through the room. He silently thanked Hermione for sleeping with the throw pillows at her feet rather than on the floor, "here, sit down, and I'll make you some tea and we can sit down and look over your letter together."
Snape sat skeptically at the small table and watched Draco go to the stove, lighting it and setting the teapot atop it, grinning at him in the process. Draco then made his way to the bed, chatting amicably with his potions professor about the cold Snape had just suffered.
"I feel much better," Snape said appreciatively, "thank you for asking, Mr. Malfoy."
"No trouble at all, Professor," Draco said as he approached the head of the bed where he began fluffing pillows- a cover-up for his actual purposes.
He looked down at the bed, apparently at the pillow, "mmhmm"ing and "yes, of course"ing to the professor as he listened to some sort of monologue about the frustration Snape felt in first years. Upon looking at Hermione, he met a pair of wide, terrified eyes. He knew that Hermione had been awake the whole time. If the knock at the door had not awoken her, the ensuing conversation must have. Her body was stiff and straight, sweat beading on her forehead from the fright.
She raised a hand so that it was against her stomach, not high enough for Snape to see. She mouthed something to Draco, using wild though small hand gestures, but he didn't understand. He turned to Snape and said, "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."
Snape apologized for mumbling and repeated himself, but Draco wasn't listening. Draco was looking at Hermione, who also repeated herself. Again, Draco was lost. He shook his slightly at her, turning again to listen to Snape, who was now complaining about the drafty quarters appointed to him this year.
Hermione tried once again, this time taking the palm of his hand and spelling the words in sign language, Helen Keller style. "S-H-O-U-L-D-I-M-O-V-E" and then pointed behind the bed.
"I've thought of requesting something a bit more homey," Snape continued, but Draco cut him off, finally understanding Hermione.
"Yes, I agree completely, Professor..." he glanced quickly down at Hermione and said slowly, "You most definitely should."
Hermione understood and rolled across the bed to Draco's side, where she rolled off, making a loud noise. She mentally cursed herself.
"What was that?" Snape asked, standing.
"Don't get up, Professor," Draco said rather frantically. "My, um, my... alarm clock fell off the bedside table."
Snape didn't sit.
"It's a rather heavy alarm clock, and it tipped the bedside table along with it. Here, I'll just pick it up."
Snape sat wearily as Draco leaned down, meeting Hermione face to face.
"Nice going," he breathed.
"Sorry," she said, "Why did you let him in?"
"Didn't have much of a choice, did I?" he murmured under his breath before conjuring an old-fashioned gold alarm clock.
"Ah," he said standing as Hermione rolled beneath the bed. "Here it is," he waved the alarm clock above his head.
"Why do you have a muggle alarm clock?" asked Snape curiously.
"An old family friend gave it to me. Couldn't very well not keep it, could I?" he smiled broadly.
"Let me see that," Snape said, standing and taking a few steps toward the bed.
"No," Draco said, clutching the alarm clock, "have a seat, I'll bring it to you."
Snape returned to his seat and Draco brought the clock to him, nudging Hermione reassuringly with his toe before leaving her.
"What did you say about a letter?" Draco asked his professor as he sat across him, raising his voice to assure that Hermione heard the conversation properly.
"Ah, yes." Snape pulled a piece of rolled parchment from the folds of his robes and handed it carefully to Draco. It was tied with a dark green ribbon and was rolled tightly. Draco undid it slowly, looking at the contents, taken slightly aback. The letter was a good size and written in classic calligraphy, a treat his father rarely indulged. Draco read over the letter silently. When he was through he looked up to Snape, who was staring at him with narrowed eyes.
"Cryptic, wouldn't you say?" he asked.
"I would say so..." Draco trailed off, reading a segment once again.
"Read it aloud," Snape requested quietly.
Draco nodded, cleared his throat and read.
"My dear friend and colleague,
Danger is in the air I fear, though not for you and not for me and not for any we possess. When rain and dust merge, what do they create? What if I said quite plainly rain will never again fall and dust is no more? Would you believe me? Would you heed me?
Dragons believe themselves quite strong but I am the bringer of light, and light reveals and destroys. What will my torch reveal in the chasms and echoes of night? How deep will my fire burn and what will it scorch along the way?
Good friend, listen to my words- romance survives in darkness. Do not think you can create fire, but remember I cam the bringer of light. Recall, if you will, in the recesses of your mind, the stories bred in antiquity.
Though Pyramus and Thisbe created a light, did they keep it? No, it was snuffed out. Or would you say that Clytie, or Echo held the candle? No, I tell you unrequited love earns its place with fools. But perhaps the tale we need look into altogether is that of Mistress Hero and her Leander.
Need I warn you against this? Her torch was blown out with a mighty gust and his body wracked in the unforgiving sea until the sun brought truth- and that truth is death. Must I disclose further what needs to be said?
I, Lucius Malfoy, am the bringer of light and will find and reveal your truth. Be sure of that. Venture not to he cave, for the young strumpet that resides there will be your dissolution, your truth.
You will wait, but not long, for danger is in the air. And, my dear friend Severus, keep not this warning to yourself, for it is not meant for you, but one that eternally resides in my lineage.
My Blessings,
Lucius"
"Not really like him, huh?" Snape asked as Draco finished reading.
"No, he's usually much more to the point. Short and sweet." Draco bit his lip as he again read over a section in the letter. "This doesn't exactly fit either description."
"I figure it meant you when he said the thing about lineage."
"'One that eternally resides in my lineage,' yes, he meant me. I know this is meant for me." Draco rolled the letter tightly and stood, motioning towards the door. "Thank you, Professor," he said, shaking his hand, "It is nearly breakfast in the Great Hall, so I really must bid you ado. I'll see you tomorrow in class."
"Yes, and I trust you'll keep the letter confidential."
"Of course..." he smiled, "it will never leave this room."
"Very good, Mr. Malfoy," Snape opened the door and made his way into the hall, "Have a good day!"
"You too!"
As he made his way back to the table, he heard Hermione climb out from under the bed.
"Draco," she faltered, "that letter is not good."
"No kidding," he said, closing his eyes and rubbing the lids to clear his mind a bit.
"Let me see it," she said, reaching for his hand.
He handed it to her, eyes still closed. She opened it and read it thoroughly, running through sentences several times over.
"Why would your father write a letter like this?" she asked as Malfoy looked up at her.
"Subtlety, I guess," he guessed.
"It's hardly subtle," she said, "it's scary."
"I think he was shooting for that too."
"So," she asked, "what do you make of it?"
"I know he knows about us. That's pretty clear, what with the whole use of Greek love stories."
"Spying on us is more like it- how else would he know about Hero and Leander?"
Draco nodded and pulled the letter from her.
"Well, let's figure this little riddle out, shall we?" Draco pulled Hermione chair closer to his, so they could easily read the letter, laid out on the table together, side-by-side. "First, danger is in the air."
"Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out," Hermione moved her finger across the parchment.
"Wait, what about this 'not for you and not for me, dot dot dot'"
"'Not for any we possess?'" she thought for a moment, "No death eaters?"
"My father knows that Snape isn't a death eater. It's something else."
"Okay, what else do your father and Snape have in common? Snape doesn't have a family, so it's not children, Lucius isn't a teacher, so it's not students..."
"Neither of us owns any pets."
"Pity."
He shrugged.
"Anyway," she looked back at the paper, "something they both possess. Well, they're both guys, both humans, both have flesh and blood."
Draco was caught at the words. "Flesh and blood," he mused. "They're both former Slytherine and both purebloods."
"So, danger could be coming to non-Slytherines and non-purebloods."
"Let's stick with that for now," he said, running his finger down the parchment to the next section. "'When rain and dust merge...' what do they create?"
"Rain and dust..." Hermione thought and laughed, "Mud?"
"Hermione," Draco said, taking Hermione's arm, "that's it. It makes sense. Not to purebloods- mudbloods."
"Of course," she sighed. "Okay then, 'Rain will never fall again?'"
"'And dust is no more.'"
They were both silent, reading the words as if they were pieces to a puzzle- rain... dust... merge... mud...
Hermione gasped and clutched at the table in front of her. Draco looked at her, surprised.
"Did you come up with something?"
Hermione turned her wide eyes to meet Draco's. Tears brimmed her eyes and dampened her lashes as she nodded, keeping her tears in check.
"Think about it, Draco," her voice cracked ever so slightly, "I'm mud. I'm the mud and what merged to create me?"
It hit Draco and he took Hermione's shoulders suddenly, "No, it doesn't mean anything. See the next line- 'would you believe me, would you heed me?' It's a threat. He didn't do it."
She nodded and gasped for breath.
"No," she whimpered, "he did. The threat's for me, he used them as an example for me."
Draco took her in an embrace, holding her close, rocking her like a baby for a moment while Hermione let a single tear slide down her cheek and land on Draco's flesh, glittering in the light. The tiny light in her tear brought hope to Hermione's heart. Yes, she thought, I can create light; I just have with my tears. She lifted her head and sniffed, wiping her face with her arm
"There's more work to be done," she said.
Draco smiled, he was proud of her, proud to be sitting beside her. He skimmed the page and read the next section- "'Dragons believe themselves strong but I am the bringer of light...'"
"It's a play on your names."
"What?" Draco looked up, a little angry that she had interrupted his thoughts.
"Your name means dragon, his name means bringer of light. Just insert your name and you got it. He's saying you think yourself strong but you're nothing compared to him."
"Way to build one's confidence, Hermione," Draco said, taken aback at her frankness.
She shrugged and moved on. "I want to finish this letter so you can get to breakfast. I don't want to bog you down again."
He smiled, thankful that he could eat the delicious food provided by the Hogwarts kitchen once again.
"'What will my torch reveal?'" Hermione read.
"So, he knows about us. He must have seen everything," Draco reasoned.
"That makes sense. And basically everything he says after that is a threat, trying to scare us into staying away from each other," Hermione said after continuing to read.
"I agree. I'd say his use of the Greek myths was for dramatic effect more than anything."
"Okay, and the only real thing we need to look at is the end; the part about the strumpet." Hermione suddenly took his arm, "I am not a strumpet!"
"No," Draco said, shaking his head insistently before turning back to the paper. "So, you're going to be my death?"
"I would have jumped for joy a few years ago," she muttered truthfully
"Let's put sarcasm aside, shall we?" Draco said.
"Oh, that was genuine," she sputtered out in laughter.
Draco gasped and leapt on her, knocking her to the floor, tickling her mercilessly. She shrieked in laughter until tears came to her eyes and her stomach hurt. She tried to reach to tickle Draco in the stomach, but he was too fast for her and pinned her arms above her head, straddling her hips in the process.
"Hmm," she said, breath ragged from the tickling episode, "this does not look good."
Draco surveyed her below him and bent down to kiss her.
"Draco," Hermione warned, "we can't do anything, not after how hurt Harry was last night."
"I just want to kiss you," he whimpered, before leaning down for another kiss.
His eyes were full of tenderness and she longed to receive him with open arms, but alas. He kissed so gently, almost spectrally, that it took her breath away. She was swept up, not in his body or the hungry, passionate electricity that had controlled them the night before, but by the immaculate energy held in his eyes. In his controlled kisses, slow and unobtrusive, in his fingers stroking her palm, sending prickles up her arm. It was suddenly very innocent- his legs, hands, and hips- so forbidden just moments before were now pure and clean.
"If I am your death," she whispered into his soft hair, "then you surely will be mine."
He sat up, letting go of her arms to analyze her beautiful face. Her hair framed her oval face gracefully, a hazelnut halo. She bent forward and ran her hand across the chiseled muscles that had been sinful and pleasurable last night, but were now idyllic and tranquil, drawn by the cherubim and seraphim so closely watching.
She wrapped her arms around him and he held her close, tenderly stroking her back.
"I think it's time for breakfast," she whispered softly and smiled up at him.
He stood, found a shirt, and left her, planting a firm, assuring kiss on her lips before he left.
End Note: Oh, I'm so sorry if you found that really boring. I'm going to get some action in there next chapter. Well, I don't know about action action but at least something other than just talking. I swear! If you are by some chance enjoying this story, you should check out my friends' stories- Sulwyn of the North and Phinea. Phinea has some awfully funny one-shots and Sulwyn has a really great story in the making. It looks like I'm an advertisement again today. Woops. Oh, and keep reviewing, even if it is to tell me how horribly awfully boring this chapter was or how awfully unnecessary these author notes are.