Power of Dance
Chapter 8
At Last
(A/N:: Standard Disclaimers apply here…all known characters are the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers.)
My's breath was harsh. Her heart throbbed in her ears, a rapid testimony to her speed. She couldn't believe it he was here. Even as she ran through London streets, lost, trying to find a single darkened alley that would lead her back to school, the thought of him made her smile. They had seen each other the night before, and yet it seemed as though months had passed. The feeling of his hands on her as the music washed through them was intoxicating. They danced until in a break of the music she heard a bell chime the hour.
3:00 AM
She knew she had to get back; she had to be in the school before four. And yet she couldn't leave him. One more dance couldn't hurt. Now she was racing down darkened London streets, boots clicking as the cool wind chilled her, if only she had her robe.
The thought of the fine black wool of her school robe brought her thoughts back to Drake. She had never seen him in less than Muggle best, his refined and simple taste reflected in all of his clothing. Tonight however, it was different, tonight he wore a black robe of soft fine wool.
So familiar
As she ran her mind screamed at her from behind the barrier. She knew that she was stupidly ignoring a big fact. Ignoring all of the hints she had been getting over the last month. As she approached the portal she forced down the traitorous snippets of clues. She was back at school, allowed to dance, and he was right by her side. That was all she needed.
At five minutes to the hour My stepped through the portal and arrived back in the abandoned hall in Hogwarts. Walking to the statue that she had hung her robe on, she placed her hand behind it, searching for soft cloth.
To find nothing but stone.
Confused, My looked at the ground and at the other statues close to the portal. Her robe was gone. Standing in the middle of the dim hallway she searched of a pile of dark clothing, when a voice broke through her concentration
"Looking for this Granger?" My turned and gasped. All the slips and hints of the summer stood right in front of her. It was him.
*~*~*
"Looking for this Granger?" Drake drawled as her watched the vinyl clad girl search for the robe he held in his hand. It was typical, he had been waiting for her for over ten minutes. Only Granger could be so inconsiderate, he ignored the simple fact she had no idea that he had been sent to London to find her.
He had been dancing with My when he heard the clock strike the hour, he didn't care, one more dance with My would be worth spending the night in the dark alley waiting for the castle lockdown to be over. Finally My seemed to notice the time and her face paled in the heavy red light, after a breif kiss, her lips brushing over his, sending electrical sparks down his spine, he watched her run down the street disappearing into the darkness. He still had twenty minutes until four. Walking into the men's restroom he ducked into one of the stalls and apperated into the dark alley that smelled like the dungeons of his childhood. Activating the portal, he stepped through and entered to a Hogwarts he wasn't used to seeing, an almost totally silent Hogwarts. Now he simply had to wait for Granger to show up, hand her the school robe and make her answer a few questions.
The summer had adjusted his biological clock to operate on only two or three hours of sleep, he had no idea of Grangers tolerance for sleep depervation. He didn't care. My was in London and if he wanted to be with her, the issue of the past had to be dealt with.
His fathers abuse
Mother's mysterious death
Voldemort
Finally, his father's final hours. As badly as Lucius hurt him, Draco still remembered the hero worship of his early childhood, even for the first few years of Hogwarts, until he began to see his father for what her truly was, a monster. He needed Granger to help him understand what happened.
After he understood he could forget about the trauma of his past and possibly apologize for the pain he may of caused her in the six years they knew each other.
The time crawled by, even My's face dancing in front of him, could prevent his temper getting frayed in the thick silence of the sleeping school. The euphoria of his dance had drained totally for his system by the time he heard the grinding of the portal. He waited until she was totally in the school, he may have not known the full details of the events in the crystal cave, but even he knew it was better not to startle the now skittish girl.
"Looking for this Granger?" The girl turned, chocolate hair swirling around her.
Drake's stomach dropped to his feet, gorge rose. It was--
It was My.
He watched her face pale to an unhealthy white.
Hesitantly he stepped out of the shadows, closer to her, "My?"
The girl sank to the ground, a litany of hysterical "No's" dropped from her pink lips. He stepped closer to the rocking girl, was this broken creature really his My? The concept was too large. He couldn't comprehend it, didn't want it to be true.
He placed a hand on her shoulder
She looked up.
Silver to gold.
Amber to gray.
The amber blinked first. "Drake?" Her voice held the promise of tears. "No, No, No, No, Not my Drake.
"Please, Please don't be my Drake." She placed a hand on his cheek.
It burned.
He never noticed before how brightly and how warmly she burned.
"Please don't be my Drake. I'm not-- I can't." She rose from the floor and began to back away.
"My," Drake's heart was resting in his throat. My and Granger? "Hermione? I-- I just can't--"
"No you're not him. You can't be. I won't let you."
"My--" Drake's heart fell to the floor and shattered.
"NO." Hermione ran.
Drake remained glued to the floor, hands still clutching the Gryffindor robe. Tears stood on his cheeks sparkling the candlelight. He studied the gold and crimson emblem and tried to understand. Tried to figure out how he could have avoided it. How could he have been so stupid as to believe in love?
Love was an old wives tale. A myth. My was a myth, Granger and death was the reality.
Drake bent his head, shaggy hair falling forward. He remembered the first night, the hunger he felt looking at the unknown dancer. The call she exerted over him. Now he realized it. It was the call of power, a summons of one power to another. Magic will always call to magic. He could feel her body and he remembered the instant kinship he felt towards her, after looking into amber eyes.
Her haunted, guarded, wounded eyes that mirrored his own. Now he knew his eyes were the result of years of fatherly attention, and hers, hers were the result of one night of rage and what would be a lifetime of regret.
How could this be? He loved her. Somehow it was a joke of the gods, a twist in Fate's thread. The person he had to understand in order to live was the one person he had wanted to live for.
Unconsciously mimicking Hermione's motions a few minutes earlier Draco Malfoy sank to the ground and laughed.
Laughed until he cried.
Cried until his eyes were dry and heavy.
Cried until he had nothing left.
There he sat. Staring at the dusty floor and the trail of her footprints. Running away. Running away from him.
He stared at the dust until a hand touched his shoulder. Drake looked up, eyes red rimmed and empty. She, the one thing he lived for, didn't exist. She was a lie. He looked up into compassionate brown eyes.
"Come along Mr. Malfoy, breakfast is in a few hours." McGonagall's soft brogue echoed through Drake's ears, for once commanding more tears, not the usual contempt for the Scottish teacher.
The strict teacher led the boy down the hall one hand on his shoulder. Down into the dungeons to the entrance of the Slytherin common room.
"He shall rise." McGonagall's voice echoed down the dark corridor. Together they entered the drafty room. "Go to your dormitory Mr. Malfoy, you may gbe able to get a few hours of sleep. I expect to see you at breakfast and in transfiguration. I disapprove of this venture, but as both your head of house and the headmaster approve, I don't have the right to object. Go to bed Draco. It won't be so bleak in the morning." Drake walked forward as stiff as an automaton, shock waylaying the natural grace of his body.
Dead silver eyes looked down at her from the third stair. "Yes they will Professor."
*~*~*
McGonagall watched the boy walk up the stairs, her eyes glistening; she had never thought to see the day that a Malfoy appeared so broken. She watched the empty staircase and waited until she felt two people come up behind her.
Making sure Draco had gone all the way up the stairs she turned around to face the two men. She looked them up and down, taking in their slightly ruffled clothing and glared.
The white bearded man chuckled. "Another chick to mother Minerva?"
"Shut up Albus." The twinkling in his eyes only grew as Snape's expression grew darker at the thought of a Gryffindor looking after one of his Slytherins
"So it has happened?" His velvety voice wrapped his concern in silky condensation.
'Aye, took it poor, found out right after London. The pair of fools." Her eyes narrowed and she turned the disapproving glare that made student cry on her two errant co-workers. "How dare you? You allowed them to go to London after hours? What if something had happened to them? I simply cannot believe you." She began to lecture the two men, leaving the common room, obviously expecting them to follow her. "What is the matter with you?" The trio walked away to the teachers' quarters, her scolding voice echoed down the hallway.
*~*~*
In the Slytherin dorms behind a forest green bed hanging, Draco sat. He stared up at the ceiling through unblinking eyes. Thought of her and their past together ran endlessly through his head. A video projection of his years of tormenting the girl his soul cried for ran in front of his open eyes, refusing to be banished even as he closed them. Deep inside of his head he tried to figure out a way to fix things, to fix his heart. He wouldn't go near her, his heart longed for her too much. He would give up dancing. Then he could be safe from her and the maelstrom of emotions that she elicited. Dancing had been at one time an escape from family pressures and troubles, now it was to intimate. It was the very essence of everything that was My. When they danced together it was a joy, a release. He transcended the problems in his heart and melded with the music. In music he could forget the sight of his mother's unseeing blue eyes, caked with blood, the single trail of blood running down her cooling cheek, a sinister tear. He could forget about his father's icy voice.
"She slipped on the stair." A cold hand on the shoulder of a fifteen year old boys shoulder. "She was clumsy and stupid. Don't make her mistake."
In the music he could forget about the room in Malfoy manor filled with blades and whips, forget about the lash scars on his back. Forget about the beatings and the pain, for get the breaking and eventually the acceptance it was all Draco's fault. Now music wasn't the same.
Now--
Music meant dance and dance meant My.
My was Granger
Who set his free
Who ran away from him
Who lied to him
Who is all he wanted
Who is a person he could no longer ever have.
He had been ready to give it al up for My, the wounded muggle, but for My alias of Hermione Granger
Her he could never touch.
Never again go near.
Now more so than in New York he knew My was well and truly lost to him.
*~*~*
My stared at his face. It was him. The man she was convinced would help her save herself, who set her free, who took her beyond her problems to a better place of heat and him and the beat.
It was a face well known
Well Loved
And now,
Well remembered.
She remembered a face she associated with safety taunting her, calling her filthy names, hexing her, spending six years tormenting her. Then his childish likeness was overshadowed by his face in thirty years frozen by hate and a strong feeling of superiority, contorted in pain, body wreathed in flames, calling for his son.
No
It couldn't be.
She wouldn't let it.
Drake was needed.
She needed him almost as much as she needed the dance, the escape.
The escape from his own fathers dying cry
Maybe it wasn't him. She reached out a hand, laying it on a familiar cheek. She knew. Could feel the rage and overwhelming pain she had felt before, could remember the feel of his head flying back from her slap in third year.
It was him. All around her she heard a voice begging for him not to be Drake. Drake was necessary, and Draco was untouchable, she was unworthy of breathing the air he breathed.
It couldn't be true, she wouldn't let it be. He couldn't be.
Drake and Draco
They wouldn't be, couldn't be the same person.
NO, NO, NO, NO.
All around her the voices echoed until she realized, realized it was her own voice screaming no.
She looked once more into his eyes. So familiar, confused but rapidly recognition and understanding was dawning.
She felt tears spill down her cheeks. Heard his voice questioning.
"My?" felt her heart crumble, knew this was the end. She didn't have the right to go near Draco, let alone dance or be with him. Looking at those eyes she knew, she knew she had to leave.
And she ran.
*~*~*
For the second time that night she ran, breathe ragged, hair flowing and eyes blurred by tears.
Somewhere her boots lay in a corner, they slowed her down. Speed is what she needed, needed to get away to consider her options to figure out her problems.
Drake was Draco
Draco was untouchable
Drake was needed
Draco was untouchable
What was she supposed to do?
Throughout the school a vicious "Fuck" echoed throughout the stone halls. Another piece of gossip for the school to delight in.
My forced herself to stop.
She swallowed hard. Inhaled deeply. Took her emotions and caged them in. Tried to ignore the building heat beneath her skin, to ignore the crackling of flames, a steady counterpoint to the beating of her heart.
Standing in the middle of the hall she closed her eyes, tried to force down all of the emotions that echoed in her soul.
She slowly walked towards the Gryffindor Tower as the cries she had been trying to block out filled her ears.
Tonight the dancing hadn't been enough
The Fat Lady let her into the tower with a sniffle and a muttered, "My Child."
The common room was the same. Warm embers burned in the hearth, and the remains of a party decorated the floor and the table.
For the high windows early dawn light filled the tower room. On the wall next to the 'Welcome Back Gryffindor' banner was a picture of herself, under it a muggleborn had lit a candle. It was as if she was dead, but then maybe she was. My stared at the portrait to her new room, trying to organize rampant and confusing thoughts.
Closing her eyes she focused on the steady beat of her heart, a steady throb that echoed through her ears. She paused, slowed her thoughts to calm. The beating of her heart drowned out the voices and the picture of Drake--
Draco's broken face.
All she needed to consider now was sleep. To prepare to go to classes. Her shoulders slumped without her robe people would see her, stare, judge. Only one person was allowed to judge her and he would never go near her again.
She tried to remember where she had left her robe, and realized.
In his hand.
Drake's image built in her mind; standing waiting for her, robe in hand, only to be overlaid by Draco of fifth year. Arrogant, angry, and spoiled.
Why her?
My's mind traveled from sorrow and confusion to anger.
Why the hell was she chosen?
First to become a member of the golden trio, to loose them, her parents, the respect of teachers, and finally when she tried to help her one-time friends she lost her innocence.
Silver eyes filled her mind.
Sad and guarded
Angry and confused
Empty and listless
Excited and free
The influx of emotions in his eyes matched her. The conflict she felt everyday stared back at her.
Of all the petty things that happened to her in the last three years he was the worst.
And the best
His silver eyes found hers
Saved her from the edge.
Their dance kept her from the roof of her apartment building in New York. Their dance helped her to rediscover emotions that the Crystal cave deadened with horror.
Now he to was lost.
The pain in his eyes; she put there.
The man she loved was the boy she had despised.
Who despised her.
Had always made her life hell for no other reason beyond the circumstances of her birth. Now however, he had a reason.
He knew
It was her that ended his father's precious life.
My rested her head against the wall. She didn't belong in Gryffindor. She had run. Run away from before he could revert to Malfoy form. Before her savior could cease to be and her tormentor would return. She hated Voldemort for making her a murderer. She hated herself for being weak. She hated Dumbledore for making her return.
Hermione could feel the heat that simmered underneath her skin rise, increase even. She whispered the password to her new room and inhaled. Bracing herself against the newly revealed doorframe, she tried to calm herself, she didn't want to repeat the event of the crystal cave, and she could feel the anger rising along with the flames. She closed her eyes and tried to hypnotize herself with the beating of blood in her ears.
Just as she felt herself relax she heard a strange noise from the common room and followed it. Sitting on a chair, lost in the shadows with his feet propped up on the messy table sat Ron, fast asleep. My walked towards him carefully, and noticed his blotchy face and tear tracks. Reaching behind him she grabbed a discarded Gryffindor robe and spread it over his long legs.
She turned back towards the entrance to her new room and came face to face with emerald eyes.
Harry.
She stepped back. Why hadn't she realized that he would be here?
Without saying a word she tried to get closer to her room, away from the face of her friend. Away from one she had at one time considered a brother.
He was to fast for her.
His Quidditch trained hand caught her wrist in a gentle hold.
"Hermione, Please." His eyes were wounded, begging her to listen to him. "Please we have to talk."
Later Days
A/N:: Sorry this chapter took so long to get out, real life interveaned. Think of this chapter as a late Valentine's Day gift from me to you.
Please remember that if you have any comments please review, I like to hear if the quality of my writing is at a consistent level.
Thanks to those that did review…and if you like the Power of Dance read The Ring(there is no harm in advertising)… Have a nice week and I hope chapter nine won't take as long as chapter eight.
Mystykitty
