Author's Note: Okay, okay, I know you have a lot of questions, settle down you'll have them answered, please be patient with me; I'm only one person. I know this is a really late update. Anyway, I actually had a reviewer tell me that she spent her homework time reading my story instead… guys, do your homework! You'll have plenty of time to read the story, especially since it takes me ages to update! Someone addressed the Previously On… It's more of a waste of copying and pasting, than typing; besides updates are few and far between, and the previously's tend to help the reader's remember what happened in the last chapter. Someone also remarked on my spacing, I liked it wide too, but I had so many complaints, I just changed it. A lot of you were confused about the person that released Hermione from the spell. This character is to remain ambiguous throughout the story. Through subtle hints this character is revealed, but not directly. Most of you have guessed at the identity of this person, but I will say no more on it.
Previously on Shadows of Light:
Snape's sharp gaze gave Draco the horrible feeling that his highly-esteemed professor knew exactly what was going on and his stomach lurched. Draco was suddenly given the unnerving impression that Snape was seeing into his mind and sifting through his thoughts as though Draco's innermost, secret ambitions were in front of him, displayed as plainly as the bold black letters of the headline on The Prophet…
"I have just been assigned to a task in which I know you will be interested in. I am to bring Potter and his Mudblood friend to Lord Voldemort. Needless to say, I will succeed marvelously. Still, my lord wishes me to give this to you as a precaution. He knows more than I will ever dare question, and I need not ask you to show the same reverence to your own superiors."
Lucius pushed the silver box towards his son. "Inside this box contains the Bands of Bovioria. The dark lord wants Harry Potter to approach their final duel of his own freewill. Therefore, using it on the Mudblood as bait will fit his wishes nicely."
Before Draco could stir from his reverie, Snape thrust the letter gruffly into his still outstretched arms and left the common room in a quiet rage. Had he seen...?
He nodded politely to the filthy bartender and took the seat opposite the cloaked figure. For a moment, they sat in silence. Draco could feel anger and fear wrestling each other in the pit of his stomach. The cloaked man leaned in towards Draco removing the hood that obscured his pale face. Draco felt the lump swell in his throat, but he suppressed it, and with an expression as guarded as stone, he regarded the man who was his father.
"Now my son, tell me, what have you done in accordance to the plan I was assigned?"
Draco's eyes began to sting, as if the sight of Lucius in less than his grandest splendor hurt them, and he realized he had to look away. He rested his gaze instead on the dusty window that overlooked the small town. Snow had started falling and was circling mystically outside the smoke-stained window pane. For a moment Draco watched the swirling snow in distraction. He was just about to tear his eyes from the flurry of snow when providence cast a shadow upon the reunion of father and son. Hermione Granger was standing outside the window looking in at Draco with an almost sad expression on her blank, vacant face.
"Ah, she knows her master. I trust the Bands of Bovioria have been administered…" Lucius had followed his son's rapt gaze to Hermione standing outside the window then turned to face Draco once more.
"What's this I see?" Lucius drawled in a dangerously quiet voice. "Is my only son in love with a Mudblood?"
"No I'm not! I'm not in love with Hermione!" Perhaps if he denied it fervently enough, it wouldn't be true.
"Love is for the weak."
"Then I am weak!" Draco's voice had risen and several people were looking at him in curiosity.
"Lower your voice!" Lucius snarled, making to grab his son's arm.
"No! All I have ever been to you is a link in the perfection of the Malfoy Pureblood legacy, a pawn that would help you capture and torture Mudbloods for your own sick pleasure. I have never defied you, and have done always what you asked, and have gotten nothing in return. I have done everything to make you proud of me, but you have never shown me such pride. I have sacrificed what little happiness I could have had to carry out your plan! And what for? So you can take the credit and I can be left to wish I never had a father? I'm not your minion, I'm your son."
"Be silent!" Lucius was standing too; his face was very pink.
Draco felt a tremor of fear rip through him, but quickly stifled it. When he spoke, it was in a much calmer, but no less strong voice, "I see now, that I made a terrible mistake."
Before Lucius could speak another word, Draco said nothing more but turned and left the Hog's Head passing by the carriages which would take him back up to school. Instead he moved quickly on foot and he was holding back the tears which once again burned his eyes, threatening to fall, as he made his way to the wrought iron gates of Hogwarts in the dark, snow-laden night.
By the time Draco had reached the grounds, he was bathed in luminescent moonlight and it was well after hours. Had Draco been less preoccupied with his rebellious thoughts, he might have noticed that he was not alone on the eerily lit lawns. The crunch of footsteps on the snow alerted him to another presence. Instinctively, Draco stepped back into the welcoming shadows of the Forbidden Forrest concealing himself from view.
A chill shot down Draco's spine as he was reminded forcibly of the time he had led Hermione Granger, kicking and screaming, into the full moon and made her drink the Draught of Ditoritius forcing her into unwilling, mindless servitude. The moonlight illuminated the bright blue contents of the vial which was behind tipped upward and down the small person's throat. They, however, did not seem to protest. His heart began to pound in his chest; perhaps it was someone else attempting follow Draco's dreadful example!
Before he could stop himself, he was sprinting across the resplendent frost-covered lawns. He had to stop whatever evil was about to take place.
The outlines of the two became clearer as Draco neared. The taller seemed to have noticed Draco's fast approaching. It swiveled on its heel and stalked towards the castle. Draco saw the other, which looked more like a female; begin to sway on unsteady feet.
With a jolt, Draco recognized the mysterious swaying girl. There was no mistaking that bushy hair or that frail stature! Draco arrived just in time to push Hermione unceremoniously to the frost-bitten ground, collapsing over top of her.
Hermione screamed. "Malfoy!"
Draco felt a strange happiness overcome him. His crazy desire to see Hermione come back to herself, however, was not sated. "Hermione… I…"
"Get away from me, Malfoy!" Hermione screamed jerking her arm out of Draco's grasp and scrambling to her feet.
"Hermione, please!"
"I suppose my task is complete!" she shrieked.
"That's not…"
"I'm surprised you didn't just kill me when you were finished with me, but I guess that would just be too messy, wouldn't it? Lord Voldemort wouldn't want his secret Death Eaters to be discovered now, would he?"
"I'm not a Death Eater, Hermione, hear me out—"
"Get away from me!" Hermione spat furiously, hot tears streaming down her red cheeks. I knew it; all along I knew there was nothing between us. You know, I tried so hard not to fall in love with you, because I knew that you could never love me!"
Before Draco could respond, she was sprinting up the lawns her robes swishing along behind her.
"I wish you knew," he whispered, "how much I care about you." Resigned to the bitter cold, he slowly trudged up after her wishing she would give him a chance to explain.
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: If I said I owned this, would you believe me? If so, than Joanne Kathleen Rowling is just a 16 year old girl who likes Eminem and writes fanfictions based on my work. Idiot.
Summary: Draco Malfoy had always hated that Harry Potter and his two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and the hatred had magnified since they had landed his once highly-esteemed father in the wizard prison Azkaban. That was why nobody would put it past him to feign injury in order to torture Hermione Granger into doing his work for him in the name of vengeance on Potter. But what happens when an emotion much stronger than revenge begins to take hold? Could it be that fate has other plans?
Shadows of Light
Chapter 13
The shower had long gone cold but the icy droplets of water stung her face, but it assured her that she was once again able to feel. She had never appreciated the privilege of feeling. Now that she was released from the spell which had so long kept her captive and numb, Hermione savored every nerve in her body. A dull throb had formed under her tired feet, and Hermione was sure it was almost time for her classmates to wake, but she didn't care.
She was not as angry for her imprisonment as she was grateful for her release. How strange it seemed to feel her heart beating in her chest, almost as if she was feeling her pulse for the first time.
A red line still burned at her wrist despite the arctic water pummeling it from the shower-head. The band was gone, but it had left its mark. Malfoy was out of her head, and now all she could hear of his biting comments were distant echoes in her mind. It seemed like an eternity since that fateful night when she first realized he had done something to her. She had been in this very bathroom, brushing her teeth when she first heard his malicious voice in her head. Now that all felt like a distant memory, like an entire lifetime that she couldn't quite recall had passed between then and now, but it also seemed like an instant. It was as if she had just awoken from a dream, one that might slip away from her in a moment if she didn't hold onto as many details as she could grasp.
What had she done? It was fading quickly. She could faintly see a window and Lucius Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy was in Azkaban. Was Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban? She hadn't really been able to note the events during her imprisonment. What if he had escaped? Would Draco really make her do something horrible to Harry? With Lucius out of Azkaban the chances were more likely than not. However, she would not let that happen... unless it already had.
She had tried to fight back once. She had tried to use every last bit of strength in her mind to get to him, to overpower him, and had almost succeeded. He was so strong-minded, and under the spell she was so weak, so she was only able to reach him when he was completely off-guard. It was only in a dream, but it was something. She had come to herself, if only for an instant. She had told him something…what had she told him? She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember what he said back to her… but she could remember his face when he first looked at her. It was as if he was seeing her clearly for the first time. His mouth formed around a word… her name. She couldn't recall anything after that... the effort of breaking into his mind and trying to use her own had taken all of her energy, and it was all she could do to build it back up.
The events of the past few... days? weeks? months? Hermione did not know for how long she had been imprisoned in her own mind ...were hazy and ran together in a blur of worried faces of her friends and commanding words from Malfoy. He had taken over her body and taken away her free will. It almost made her sick to think of what had been taken away from her, but she had to ignore that and try to right whatever wrongs she had committed under the spell.
Hermione stepped out of the shower quickly and dried herself off. Quickly pulling on her robes, she rushed out of the Prefect's bathroom and made her solitary way to the Gryffindor tower.
The fat lady was snoring in her frame when Hermione approached. She tapped the portrait lightly and whispered the old password, "Mandragora," hoping it hadn't changed. It hadn't. With a particularly loud snore, the portrait opened admitting a relieved Hermione to the common room.
In the hearth, all that remained of the night's fire were ashes and dying cinders. Spare bits of parchment and decks of Exploding Snap cards littered the tables from the evening before. Through the tower windows, Hermione could see the golden glow of the sun on the horizon, but she didn't stop to look. Quickly and silently, she made her way up the staircase that led to the boys' dormitories.
She half-expected to find Harry's bed empty, missing from the room, lost in the oblivion of Voldemort's clutches. She half-expected to find the floor littered with newspapers displaying grave headlines about mysterious disappearances and terrible happenings, and four boys tossing and turning in restless sleeps filled with haunting nightmares. Instead, she found five calmly sleeping boys, Harry amongst them. She sighed as she watched him roll over in his sleep. He seemed to be less at ease than his dorm-mates, and Hermione could only guess at what was going on in his troubled mind.
Hermione, though relieved that Harry and Ron were alright, was still not satisfied. Suppose Draco had made her do something that wouldn't seem obvious at first A thrill of horror shot up her spine as she had a particularly terrible thought. Had she taken their freewill, as Draco had taken hers? Had she herself only been released because her deed was done, leaving her friends vulnerable to the ultimate harm?
Harry turned fitfully to face her, his eyes closed tightly. Hermione decided it would be better to wait until later in the morning to find out; it would be a slightly uncomfortable to have to explain to Harry and Ron why she had been lurking around in their dormitory before dawn. She turned and headed out, hoping that they would not find her in their dormitory and bombard her with those unnerving questions of her presence. She didn't know what she would do if they emerged upon waking, only to speak in monotones and wear the same blank expression that she imagined she must have worn during her imprisonment.
When she got to the door, she fared one last glance towards her best friends. For a wild moment, she thought she could see the green of Harry's eyes looking at her from his four poster.
"Hermione?" It was only a whisper, but it was enough. Hermione turned on her heel and ran out of the dormitory, darted down the boys' staircase, raced through the common room, and climbed out through the portrait hole into the corridor.
The castle was bright. The torches were lit. Through the high window, Hermione could make out a pink and gold skyline. For a moment, she stood, entranced, before she heard a light footstep behind her. Hermione knew she had to get out of that corridor, find somewhere deserted, but before she could turn, before she could move, a hand was on her shoulder. She swiveled around to find herself face-to-face with none other than Professor Snape.
"Isn't it a little early to be causing trouble, Miss Granger?" he asked in a quiet, ominous voice, his eyes bearing down on her from beneath his burrowed brow.
"I…I…I'm sorry Professor Snape," Hermione muttered. Without another word, she nodded to Snape and left him standing in the middle of the corridor. Before she knew where she was going, she had arrived at the library, as if her mind was no longer in charge of her actions, but her body through mere habit.
The panic she had been feeling since she had regained her freewill began to recede. The library always tended to have a calming effect on her frazzled nerves. Cool logic began to wash over her, and for the first time in four weeks, she felt like herself. In a small nook she could see the refreshing sight of fifth year Ravenclaw studying. She remembered settling herself in that very spot the year before when she was studying for the O.W.L.'s. She had color-coded her notes, yellow for simple questions, green for medium, blue for hard, and red for very hard. She found herself smiling at the memory. It was reviving to remember but even more so to smile. Suddenly, a thought that rejuvenated the old Hermione more than anything else jumped to mind…schoolwork! She probably hadn't gotten a thing done during her span of unintelligible obedience! She must be behind in all of her work!
Before Hermione knew it, she was racing up to the Gryffindor tower, shouting the password and stumbling up the steep stairs to the girl's dormitory. Hermione grabbed her books and rushed back down to the common room. While she was scribbling furiously, biting her lip in concentration, and flipping pages with such fervor that she actually ripped a few right out of the spine, a very confused Harry and Ron were standing in bottom of the boys' staircase, blinking uncomprehendingly at the sight of their friend working in a way that they had not seen in so long.
It had been over a month since her release. Christmas was fast-approaching. Hermione had been extremely relieved to find nothing wrong with either of her friends. They seemed perfectly capable of forming their own thoughts, and even asked her what in the world she was doing when she ripped back their sleeves to reveal their naked wrists. She had responded simply by letting out sighs of relief and walking away, leaving them even more puzzled. She was thoroughly distraught to find out, however, that Lucius Malfoy had in fact been released from Azkaban. Ron had been ranting about it at breakfast on her first morning back to herself, but Hermione knew better than to ask for details. She just nodded in agreement as if she had known all along.
She could not blame Harry for treating her with wary amity, even after she had promised she had only been feeling sick and that nothing serious had been wrong with her over her brief lapse of person. Often times while they were in the common room immersed in homework, Hermione could feel his eyes upon her, studying her in the pretense of reading. It was true; Harry's guard was up around Hermione. He was friendly enough, but he was suspicious of her.
Well, if Harry thought Hermione was under some sort of spell from Voldemort and was going to betray him, he was sorely mistaken. Though for a while, he might have been entirely correct, Hermione was almost positive that she had caused no harm during her time under the Bovioria, but it was still a mystery.
Anyway, if her friends didn't trust her because of her lapse in character over those fateful few weeks, it was Draco's fault. Hermione didn't fully understand his actions. He was the snarling git she had always hated, but there was more to him. Somehow, he had opened himself up to her in keeping so closed up.
Hermione was good at figuring things out; she had done it for six years. But Draco Malfoy was a puzzle. The first piece of the puzzle was his deliberate rendering of his arm to be useless, so that she would be forced to spend time with him. It was fairly evident that Draco needed Hermione for some sinister plot to avenge Harry. Snape's intervention made it impossible for Hermione to avoid becoming Malfoy's guinea pig, not that she knew it at the time.
Malfoy's rescuing her from the squid; she supposed that must have been set up as well, as the squid was entirely docile. That was entirely pointless, unless Draco wanted to look like some sort of hero, gain everyone's trust in a humble sort of way. No finger would point towards Malfoy, the great savior of Hermione Mudblood Granger, should anything horrible happen to her. It was ingenious in its simplicity, really.
Perhaps Hermione would not think so lowly of Draco, had it not been for the Band of Bovioria. She should have figured it out earlier when he rescued her from the squid that he was planning something, that he would go through with it at all costs; and he did. Hermione remembered nothing after the Bovioria took her, the proceeding weeks of her life blissfully blank, like a dream she could no longer grasp. But she realized that she was not herself during that time. Harry and Ron came to regard her with skepticism, almost fear. She did not know how different she had become. Many people seemed not to notice her odd behavior, for which she was grateful, but her best friends no longer knew her, even though she had returned to normalcy. Hermione vowed that somehow, someway, she would explain it to them, but first she needed to understand the situation herself.
It was this that puzzled Hermione most of all. All of the pieces fit together except the last one. Why on earth did Draco release Hermione from his control? He had it all. Hermione was under his power, he could do with her what he wanted and no one would suspect him, why then, did he give it all up? What happened to him that would turn his thoughts so completely around? Surely guilt was not strong enough for him to take such drastic measures…there was only one emotion that had that sort of power. No, she shook her head, something else must have changed his mind, and Hermione was going to find out what it was.
"Harry."
Harry turned to face who had spoken to him, his green eyes resting on Hermione. "Er… hey Hermione, what's up?"
"I need to talk to you and Ron. I know I've been acting a bit strange over the past few weeks…" She could see Draco's face, even though he was no where around, she shook her head and continued, "I just thought you might like some answers, and I know exactly who to ask."
It was the last weekend before Christmas break and a Hogsmeade trip had been scheduled. The students were all dressed up in their cloaks and shawls, ready to go Christmas shopping for the upcoming holidays or into the Three Broomsticks for a nice hot Butterbeer to celebrate the end of term.
Hogsmeade, as always, looked like a Christmas card in the snow. The small cozy stores looked almost like gingerbread houses and the people rushing from store to store seemed to add to the pleasant Christmas feeling in the air. However, not everyone was enjoying the holiday excitement.
The Shrieking Shack was a small way from the bustling town of Hogsmeade and that was the way Draco preferred it. He came up there to think while the other students got caught up in the hustle and bustle of Hogsmeade. It was oddly peaceful at the Shrieking Shack.
He noticed that Hermione had adjusted easily back into her life. It seemed that Potter and Wealey were more dim-witted than Draco thought, because they seemed not to notice her change in personality over the short space of time. Draco wondered how anybody could be that unobservant. Of course, there wasn't much about Hermione Granger that Draco hadn't noticed. The way she laughed when something amused her, how she would throw her head back and let out a loud appreciative chuckle. Or the way her eyes lit up when she read something she found interesting. It was hard to forget the smile she reserved for those she cared about. If only he could see that smile directed at him. He felt the corners of his lips twitch.
It is always like a Malfoy to be on guard at all times. But Hermione tended to bring out this relaxed trusting person from deep inside of Draco, a person he never believed to exist. It was perhaps because his mind was on her, that he did not hear the crunch of footsteps in the soft, white snow behind him until it was too late.
"Someone's in a lot of trouble!" Draco swiveled around at the sound of Pansy Parkinson's cackling voice. There standing in the shade of the forest that surrounded the shack was Pansy Parkinson and a tall cloaked figure. The cloaked figure reached out a thin, dirty hand and grabbed Draco by the cuff of his cloak. Draco felt himself being pulled roughly so that he was nose to nose with the cloaked figure and gave out a cry of astonishment to see that it was his father's malevolent eyes looking out from under the hood.
"Come with me," Lucius spat. Draco shuddered against his father's harsh grip and wrinkled his nose against his foul breath. Lucius did not let his son down; instead he pulled harder on the cloak until Draco could feel the air leaving his lungs. "If you scream, I will kill you. Mark my words; I have no qualm with dealing death to traitors who love Mudbloods!" He let go of Draco then, who fell to the frosty ground, sputtering. Pansy grabbed Draco's arm and hoisted him up. Before Draco knew what was happening, a large hand was on his back forcing him towards the Shrieking Shack, over the rough, rusty fence and into the haunted house; Pansy trailing along after them. None of them seemed to notice a shadow in the woods or the confined footsteps of three people under one cloak appearing in the unblemished snow behind them…
Dun…dun…dun! I must admit this chapter was much shorter than the previous ones have been but I am working on it! Oh! Did anyone see the third movie? It inspired me a lot in this chapter! Your reviews are all so sweet and I appreciate your feedback! For those of you with concerns on the completion of the story, I have one thing to say: I will complete this story, this I promise. Thank you so much, your reviews are truly inspiring!