Chapter 7
Draco Malfoy listened for the odd footstep here and there, wanting desperately to get out of the bed. Pansy and her posse had come to visit him just moments ago, inquiring on his psychological and physical health and whining about his misfortune. Yes, while they whined for him, he pinned for the great outdoors. Two days, it had been, two days, since Granger had attacked the mediwitch and Yaji. Two days stuck in a hospital bed, he groaned, it was actually thirteen days stuck in a hospital bed. He couldn't wait to walk out those doors; no matter how healthy and healed he insisted he was, Madame Promfrey would be adamant in her belief that every person that walked through those swinging doors would not leave until she branded them good to go.
Now, the mediwitch was an intrigue. Since the 'incident' she had treated Granger and himself no different, still the bossy crone that she first was. It seemed likely that she thought Granger was suffering from an insanity evoking illness; and since he, himself, had her blood coursing through his veins, he must also be suffering from the same illness. It wasn't so the mediwitch's behaviour which led him to that thought, rather, an odd inquiry by the Headmaster, Professor Snape and Yaji. Who no longer had a bandage wrapped around his wrist; though, a thin pink scar ran in a semi circle beneath his palm.
Two days, his legs were still quite numb and would be for a long time to come if he didn't get out of this damned bed. Thick turquoise drapes hung across the giant windows, a faint breeze blowing the drapes outward. Stuck in bed and in semidarkness for thirteen days, could life get any worse? No, let's not answer that question. He chided himself for his restlessness. Malfoy wrinkled his nose, in disgust, a low growl bubbling at the back of his throat; his metaphysical shield had been put in place a few hours before the predicted arrival of his concerned Slytherin peers; though his senses were still as sharp and sensitive.
The rustling of bed sheets caught his attention, she was awake at last. The startled gasp as she regained her surroundings made him smirk.Malfoy closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath through his nose, drawing on the metallic and stale smell of the infirmary, wrinkling his nose when the stench of old, powdery animal fur tickled his cilia. Then the spicy and wet earthy smell, like the smell of the earth after it had been beaten mercilessly by the rain, wafted through his nostrils. A tangy, delicious smell that he had named Hermione Granger; she had disturbed him, with her ability to invoke emotions out of him, emotions that he still could not place names to, emotions that he was truly unfamiliar with; well except for fear, anger, betrayal…
And acceptance? His wayward thinking had led him to believe that when Granger's blood was forced to pump his heart again, he had unknowingly agreed to accept some of her burdens, no, not burdens; but, a part of her, some part of her that he was not acquainted to. His memories were like flames, which licked eagerly at his eyes; like her power had melted his skin, peeled him apart like an orange and put him back together again.
He sat up straight suddenly and looked past where Hermione sat in her bed, the curtains to her cubical now drawn back. She too was looking towards the door, a frown creasing her forehead. The echo of many footsteps came first then the smells, a clean citrus, scented heavily with the musky aroma of earth and herbs and enclosed in the overpowering fragrance that both adolescents had become acquainted to; and musky, headstrong, dry tangy fragrance that was isolated, by the other earthy smells, this one was hot, and dangerous; a fitting depiction of Yaji.
Two long billowy cloaks peeked through the large doors, a soft brush of air was heard, and both had to quieten the paced beating of their hearts to be able to hear that low, low sound. After, more wrinkling of fabric and a rustle here and there, the stout figure of Dumbledore filled the doorway; the two professors, kept up the pace, neither slowing down. Yaji, in his billowing black robes stopped before Hermione's cubicle, when Dumbledore reached him; he turned into Hermione flashing her, a cheerful smile, which Hermione did not return.
Snape, however, walked past them and toward Malfoy; his face twisted into a sneer as his gaze fell upon the frowning Malfoy. It seems I'm in for another lecture…
Hermione Granger glared at him severely, wanting very much to mark his face with her nails. He had a lot of explaining to do. Dumbledore was being his usual cheery self, smiling tenderly at her. She knew that they weren't here for friendly chit chat. With the two darkest faced professors in the school and Dumbledore, she snorted. Yaji, caught her gaze travelling over his features darkly and jeered , violet eyes illuminating with a malicious glow. Hermione frowned; she had never noticed Yaji's eyes before, even when glaring at him intently throughout their fortuitous meetings.
Dumbledore shot a weary glance between the two, noticing the sparkle in the young man's eyes.
Meanwhile, four beds away, Madame Promfrey and Professor Snape were enclosed in a heated conversation; both said persons looking somewhat vexed. Obviously Madame Promfrey was trying to put a halt to the impromptu visits of Dumbledore and the aforementioned professors, all for the benefit of her patients. A snort of derision from Malfoy was covered gracefully by the sudden racking coughs that seemed to make his body convulse, followed by a painful jerking of the muscles in his once previously injured arm. Malfoy used his right hand to clutch the convulsing arm to his body. Jaws clenched so tight that he ground his teeth together, drawing a crunching sound from behind his lips.
He was still coughing it seemed, the convulsing of his arm deadened slowly, attempting to jerk away from his body every other second or so. His jaws were beginning to ache softly. He was still coughing; no, someone was coughing and his convulsions were subsiding, for now. Jaws still shut tight he turned a rather pained expression to see Snape and the mediwitch watching him curiously. Wasn't the damned woman to do something of aide to him?
Whoever had been coughing stopped abruptly, followed with a stretch of time, hollowed by silence.
"Well?" Rasped the cool blonde; gazing at his head of house importunately.
Snape's features narrowed into a glower, he looked upon Malfoy with annoyance.
"Mr. Malfoy," he said but turned his steely gaze to Madame Promfrey, "If I may be so bold as to ask, whether it was only a shoulder he injured, not his head?" He raised a black eyebrow at the mediwitch.
Madame Promfrey became flustered, turning a shade of cool pink, eyeing the professor haughtily. She placed hands on her hips, leaning forward till she was nose to nose with Snape. "Severus Snape," she began, "Don't you use that tone with me," she said, her voice laced with angry indignation. Malfoy snorted derisively, watching the adults with wide eyes, a smirk twitching his lips.
Madame Promfrey whirled around to face him, sending him a malevolent glare; Malfoy immediately shrunk into his bed, burrowing into the covers as far as possible. Snape simpered, amused. "And don't you start questioning my expertise, Professor Snape, half the students hospitalized in this ward, come straight from your potions class!"
Snape's smirked slowly faded around the edges, vanishing altogether after a few seconds. "Madame, I do not doubt your skills; the Headmaster and I would like a word or two with Mr. Malfoy here and if you'd be so kind as to accompany us, for the Headmaster and Professor Yaji would also like to speak to you." His gaze fell on the mediwitch, petitioning her silently, to put the sudden squabble aside and do as he said.
The mediwitch shot him a incisive look, not taking his rather rare to come by apology to heart. She nodded, eyes narrowing at Malfoy. She pursed her lips in thought and pulled out her wand from her waistband pointing it threateningly at the boy. She parted lips to utter a sharp incantation, only to be stopped by Snape; who demanded that Malfoy use his feet after days of being fussed over and treated like the spoilt brat that he was. Malfoy sent a silent prayer of appreciation to his Head of House, it looked like his wish would some true! Out of the damned bed at last, well that is, if his legs didn't betray him.
He spilled the covers over the edge of the bed and sat so that his feet touched the cool stone tilling, little shivers of anticipation and shock at the stark coldness of the floor crawled up his spine, sending the hairs on his neck to stand up in a solute.
"Mr. Malfoy?" enquired the potions Master.
"Fine." He breathed, bracing his arms against the edge of the bed, slowly pushing himself up while putting more pressure on his feet. A small tremor ran through his knees, making them shake ever so slightly but still noticeable. Madam Promfrey made as if to stall what she was beginning to think of as imprudence when Snape intervened once more.
Malfoy gritted his teeth, pushing himself up into a standing position, most of his weight concentrated on his knees and feet. A slight wobble in his knees was the only thing to keep him from daring to take another step. He waited, feeling the penetrating gaze of his Head of House on his face, but the he could only look fiercely at his knees and will them to stay still. They did, suddenly, they stopped shaking and tentatively he lifted a foot off the ground almost losing his balance as he did so. A hand at the edge of the bed stalled his ominous fall. And so he pushed himself upright again, waiting to regain his full orientation then slowly pulled a foot off the floor, bending at the knees and swiftly placed it a step in front of his other foot before he could tumble to the cold tiles. This unlikely ritual was repeated, until Malfoy's toes curled in protest at the abrupt endeavour placed on his feet.
Having slowly but surely reached the Head Master and Hermione Granger's cubical Madame Promfrey hurriedly sat the pale Malfoy down in the wooden chair next to Hermione. She glared at him unabashed, earning a reprimand from the mediwitch.
Yaji, watched all this with a condescending eye, barely able to keep the sneer off his face. Madame Pompfrey set herself up between Hermione and Malfoy, a hand resting on the back of the wicker chair; the hand that Hermione had bitten into two days ago. A shiny pink scar ran in a jagged half circle, an imprint of her teeth marks forever imbedded in the mediwitch's wrist.
Dumbledore took off his spectacles and cleaned them on his white beard, placing them back on after a close inspection. He smiled tenderly at the adolescents, "Well, it seems that the gathering took us long enough." He turned his head in inclination towards Yaji. The violet eyed man nodded, his eyes never leaving that of the girl before him. He shot her a bitter smile before beginning his tale.
"I need not explain myself when I say, that it has been a peculiar start to the school term." He paused, pointedly resting his gaze on Hermione as he said so.
"Keep silent;" he whispered, "but first," a hand delved into his bulbous robes, searching for his wand maybe? No, what he pulled out wasn't a wand. No, what he took out of his inner pocket made Hermione gasp and reach out as if to grasp it. Malfoy's eyes narrowed, he recognized the damned thing.
The luminescent sphere, twirled happily above Yaji's palm, a soft turquoise, like she had remembered, only the runes in the sphere were a dirty blood red. She looked up at the man towering over her, making a pained sound and clenching and unclenching the linen sheets. "W…where did you find it?" she asked, her face taking on a tormented look.
Yaji looked at her sceptically, "So, you did come in contact with it; peculiar." He said.
"Yes, but how?" Hermione asked, puzzled; how did he know about her blue ball?
Malfoy glared at the levitating dome, suddenly realising that it all began with the sphere, spinning inconspicuously among two great novels in the restricted section. Occulemency, they were; he remembered. He frowned, when? He had could not recall going to the restricted section of the library, not this year at least. With that one stray thought a dam seemed to have burst asunder, spilling all its precious treasure; and he saw her, in her first year, the restricted section; and the Philosopher's stone; second year and the chamber of Secrets, the polyjuice potion disaster, third year, and him.
He stared at Hermione, eyes wide, what in Merlin's name was going on? His mental shields had been put up, tight; he could not have gotten into her head with his shields in place so securely and by the looks of it she was in no position to break through his meticulous defences. Unless, the Headmaster or…he shot a controlled glance towards his Head of House and Headmaster, if they had broken through, he would have noticed. No one had tested the durability of his mental defences, in theory no one should have been able to get into his head, not even with occulemency. Then where had they come from, how had she appeared in his minds eye?
Hermione felt a sudden tingle run down her spine raising the small hairs at the back of her neck; she cast her troubled gaze away from the violet eyes of Yaji, to meet those of a certain fair haired boy. Troubled eyes, alike, seemed to meet and worlds were opened before them; portals to their very nightmares, each holding the key within their soul.
"Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy, stop ogling at each other this minute, there is quite a substantial amount to get through and I will not have my time wasted by hormonal teenagers," snapped Professor Snape, glaring at the two vicious.
The teenagers in question hastily broke their eye contact, looking in front of themselves instead. Hermione paled considerably, looking down at her lap before raising her eyes to glance blankly at Professor Yaji's chest.
Snape sneered, and motioned for Yaji to proceed. The other man nodded, his own gaze dancing between Hermione and Malfoy, looking very curious indeed. It must be the blood ritual coming into effect, he pondered. "As I was saying, before you decided that what I have to say is utterly insignificant to you." He drawled
Hermione slowly raised her gaze up, from his robe clad chest to his eyes. "I was distracted sir." she mumbled humbly.
"I see." His gaze softened for a millisecond, long enough for both Malfoy and Hermione to notice but not question. "Ms. Granger, you must listen carefully," he turned to shoot a calculating look at Malfoy, "as must you, Mr. Malfoy, what I have to say is of great importance." Malfoy nodded his understanding of the level of importance.
"Let us begin, without any interruptions might I add," he threw a purposeful look towards the standing professors huddled around Dumbledore. He paused for breath and stared hard at Hermione, as if wondering how to explain himself. "Ms. Granger, it seems that the gods have an ill fate awaiting us both, I have found my niece at last, after all these long years of searching, but she has no memories of which to recall our relation," he paused, watching Hermione carefully, "having prepared for such an incident in advance, I am brought to this;" He bent slightly at the waist lowering the sphere beneath her eyelevel; "you see, I left this in a place where she would be bound to find it, in the one place she was bound to look, it seems my niece," his warm breath blew against her face, as warm as a midsummer night's breeze.
Hermione looked into his eyes, her own shimmering softly with unshed tears; she shook her head, turning her tearful gaze towards the Headmaster imploringly, but he did not answer her. It was lies, it was all lies, how could he?...why would he? it just didn't make sense, why would he do this to her? Though, what scared her most was the fact that it was beginning to add up, beginning to make sense; and it felt right, what he was saying felt right; however, it couldn't be.
Yaji's rough voice brought her back to him again, "that my efforts were useless, if you have not activated your Eye of Relics, but your dreams are not helping you any, are they?" His gaze remained hard, though his voice was soft, like the gentle flutter of feathers; those last words were for her ears alone.
Draco Malfoy, for what seemed like the fifth time in his life was amazed, a trickle of emotion had seeped into his hardened features, which, a moment ago had been as still as a statue, picturesque, but lifeless. He kept his eyes plastered on the two before him, Granger and her uncle, her long lost uncle, how unreal. A whisper of a sigh went through him as he took in Yaji's last words to Granger, before placing the spherical Eye on Grangers lap and righting himself.
The professors were silent; Madame Promfrey had a stupendous look on her face, while Snape watched the room with dark blank eyes, as blank as his face. Dumbledore, looked ready to jump to Hermione's rescue, his cheeks were mottled with pink spots, his lips pursed tight; he stood up, gathering his robes about him and walked steadily towards the distressed girl.
The violet eyed young man, kept his eyes settled on the girl; her face had gone white, her pupils dilated, shock he diagnosed. The girl was in shock; her hair had been tied back with a band by the mediwitch earlier that morning, but still framed her face, an unruly mass of dark curls, throwing shadowy tendrils across her features. He pitied her silently, but to the unknowing person his eyes were hard, his stature severely straight, he looked like a man who had no time for sympathy or pity even; and he was so, except for unanimous occasions, when light manifested itself in his heart.
"Hermione Granger," he rolled her name over his tongue, as if testing the full optional the name carried. Everyone stopped what they were doing, turning to him; except for Dumbledore, who realised the sudden fatality of those words, or the words they would consequentially lead to.
"That is enough, I will not allow you to bombard her with incongruent information, and rather knowledge she will not need for the time being." Said an irked Dumbledore
The air between them sparked and fizzed, from a point where both their gazes met. "Dumbledore," warned Snape, his eyes locked on the vexed pair, they looked like they were ready to duel and over a bloody seventh year student at that. How preposterous! He knew Dumbledore cared for his students, but it was his own fault that they were now in such an uncompromising situation and surely the little chit would open her mouth and spurt out something obtuse. How wrong he was; it was not Hermione who opened her mouth, so to speak.
"Professors," said a calm Malfoy, trying to draw their attention. "I and Miss Granger would rather be acquainted with the comforting knowledge of our timely departure from the hospital wing." He drawled lazily.
Yaji, turned to look at the boy out of the corner of his eye; Madame Promfrey looked indignantly towards the professors. Dumbledore however had caught on to Malfoy's bluntness. "Ah," he breathed, "yes, yes," and tore his gaze away from those of his rival.
However a shaking voice decided to intervened with a weak, "sir?" The professors turned towards the huddled figure of Hermione. In the time that it had taken for the Head and Yaji to break apart from their childish squabble; she had carefully drawn her knees beneath her chin, ducking behind the material veil of darkness her hair provided. Yaji faced her enquiringly, oh, there was something he had not said as of yet; a very delicate subject that was. Many a Kardeshi was very touchy when it came to issues of the blood…
She kept her features in shadow, hugging her knees to herself, with the white sheet drawn to her chin; a chill ran up her spine, spreading slowly to a hollow space in her chest. Dumbledore swept to her side, daring to reach out a tentative hand to touch her hair; she jerked away from his touch. He sighed, suddenly the years caught up with his straight backed physique; and his shoulders slouched, he fell slowly, to sit on the edge of her bed. The old man turned morose eyes towards the young man who declared himself to be the girl's biological uncle. "Tell her," he whispered softly.
Draco Malfoy listened carefully to the regretful tinge in the Headmaster's few words. If he had known that he could get the old man to slowly crumble only after one word, and gesture he would have laughed hysterically at the utter deliberation of such a thing; when he had tried so, in hindsight and failed hopelessly. The thick anxious silence engulfed the occupants, clinging to the hands and mouths like a viscous tar when the silence was shredded with a sharp snort, from one Severus Snape. He opened his mouth to say something then closed it, trying for the second time and succeeding.
"Pray, tell what is too important to be left until a later date; as I find the task of observing this galling altercation, whilst I still have essays to mark; terribly bothersome, thus I excuse myself from this travesty. Good day" He bowed his head in inclination towards the Headmaster and Professors and left, in long, agile strides.
"Now, Headmaster," Madame Promfrey, looked at her patients with concern; "how in the world this may concern me I have no idea but I cannot allow you to distress my patients with…with," she stopped lost for words and turned on her heal, also, returning to whatever it was she had been doing earlier.
Malfoy scowled, was it him or had this been going on just a touch too long?
"There are a few things which I cannot disclose in your…fragile state; but," he looked at the girl beneath the covers; "it is all to do with blood I'm afraid." Malfoy snorted, running a critical eye over the professor.
"Blood? Where have I heard this before?" Malfoy growled angrily, "Just tell her what it is she wants to know."
Yaji, turned to look at the boy, "A pureblood, you call yourself, how ironic, when your blood is no longer pure," He was interrupted by Malfoy, whom said haughtily: "Tainted by the likes of her," he sent a malicious glare Hermione's way; but she wasn't watching.
"You forget, Mr. Malfoy, with your shields in place so strongly how are you supposed to discern which blood taints which?" his look was condescending, bringing to mind the illusion of an aristocrat looking down on a peasant.
Malfoy tore his gaze away, angry at being found out so easily by this stranger, when he had kept his cerebral sensitivity close to heart; a secret worth keeping. His face was flushed slightly with suppressed embarrassment at his carelessness. He must have found him out whilst he was distracted by the know-it-all Granger.
"You, Hermione," said Yaji, slowly, testing the name on his tongue, "are a Kardeshi, not earth born, for you are of my blood line:" he turned to grimace at Malfoy, "and unfortunately so are you."
Dumbledore stood up slowly, as he watched the cold fire in Malfoy's eyes flare into something frightful. "What!" he shouted, gritting his jaws, straining the muscles in his neck severely. Malfoy tried to rise up, into a standing position but failed and fell back into the chair.
Hermione grimaced behind her hair, it still didn't explain the disgusting things she had done. Rather it brought up more questions, than answers. If she wasn't Hermione Granger, who exactly was she?
A/N: if you haven't noticed by now, I'm a pretty slow updater, all with their validated reasons, and no, it's not writers block; because I've finally sorted out the plot! Hurrah. In context I'd say hurrah was the wrong word to describe how I'm feeling right now, tired and hungry…got to get a snack, it'll have to be a midnight snack though. See how much I want to finish this chapter? I hope it hasn't put anyone off just yet, it might get a little too fantasy for some people, but we'll have to wait and see. Oh… can't you just feel the potential relationships? I mean all the minor clues are there. Like Yaji said, it's all in the blood.