A/N:Hi All! Sorry for posting a bit late, holiday yesterday kept me busy! Thank you to WordsmithMusings for alphaing!
Chapter Four:
Hermione fell into a comfortable rhythm. She'd wake up early and get to the office an hour before anyone else to work on the potion. For the entire day, she would research, check the potion, and take Malfoy's blood. On the days that Draco didn't come, Hermione would peruse the Unspeakable Library and try to find anything that pertained to the research of Oliver McKaide. But his name had been wiped from the history books, scribbled out hundreds of years ago.
The only thing she had was his journal. Nothing else.
Hermione checked her watch—Draco would be here soon. Standing, she gathered the necessary ingredients. Tomorrow was Sirius' anniversary, and Hermione had to tell Draco tonight was the night. Thinking of Draco brought the Daily Prophet to mind; they published an article about him every other day like clockwork.
At first, it was all just speculation about who he was seeing and why he was there. Then they began to track other people's schedules. Hermione hadn't been mentioned again since the first time. But finally, just this morning, Hermione's name returned to the ink-stained pages.
Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy having a late name rendezvous.
Unspeakable Hermione Granger and Wizarding England's most eligible bachelor, Draco Malfoy, were seen leaving the Department of Mysteries together under the guise of night. Just what were those two love birds up to? Could there be a possible budding romance?
Hermione crumbled the Prophet in her hands and tossed it in the rubbish. The day before yesterday, Draco had spent much longer than normal. His usual routine was he'd arrive every other day around three, give his blood, annoy or anger her somehow, and then leave after an hour or so. But the other day he stayed until she did, well past nine o'clock.
They were actively engaged in a heated discussion about various Professors and their teaching methods when Hermione hadn't chopped the first round of borage to Malfoy's standards.
"This was how Slughorn taught us to chop."
"That bumbling idiot wouldn't know the difference between venomous tentacula and regular old vines even if it snapped him on the arse. Snape taught me to do it this way; let me show you."
Draco tried to snatch her knife from her hand, which led to Hermione avoiding him and playing keep-away with the sharp object. It ended when Draco cornered Hermione on one side of the table, both of his arms circling her to keep her closed off.
She remembered how her heart leapt from his proximity. How the heat of his body radiated into hers, how good he smelled—Hermione shook her head. Nothing was meant by it; he just wanted the knife. After, she had all but shoved the blade into his hands and watched reluctantly as he taught her a more efficient way to chop the borage.
Then he tried to insult Hagrid, and that's when the debate really started.
"Granger," Draco called as he entered her office. "Head in the clouds today?"
Hermione shook her head, heat creeping up her neck. "I um... I have something to tell you."
Draco sat on the stool and rolled up his sleeve. He stayed silent and waited for Hermione to continue.
She handed him the knife and bowl. Hermione chewed her lip and watched as the first trail of crimson dropped.
"I saw the Prophet articles," Hermione blurted out.
Draco's forearm flexed as he clenched and unclenched his fist. "I'm sorry. I tried to keep your name out of it, but the vultures descended. They care more about ratings and gossip."
"I don't mind them so much anymore," Hermione shrugged and chopped the last of the borage—the way Draco taught her. "I don't even get the paper anymore."
She wouldn't tell him she'd renewed her subscription once the articles started. "How do you feel about them, Wizarding London's most eligible bachelor?"
Hermione laughed as Draco groaned and rubbed his temples with his free hand.
"That name bothers you, doesn't it?"
Draco gave her a half-hearted smile, the strain of it obvious. "It's better than what they used to call me."
Traitor to the Ministry, coward, evil.
Hermione remembered. But then he'd been found innocent, and eventually, Wizarding England went back to what mattered most—money and good looks. And Draco Malfoy fit both of those to a T.
A small puff of smoke rose from the cauldron, and Hermione rushed over to inspect it.
"What's wrong? Is it ruined?" Draco stood, his bleeding wrist hovering over the bowl.
Hermione's stomach flipped. She knew it was coming already, but now it was final. "No. It's ready." She spun around and looked up into Draco's grey eyes, her notebook clutched tightly in her hands. Hermione went on a tangent about what she discovered, and what it meant. "But his death day...It's June 18."
"Granger," Draco arched his brow. "That's tomorrow."
"I know, we have to perform the spell at midnight tonight."
Draco chuckled and shook his head. "You sure like to keep me on my toes. Alright, tonight it is then."
Hermione fiddled with the hem of her shirt. "I'll make sure to bring extra blood-replenishing potions."
"Why?" Draco narrowed his eyes.
"You're going to need a lot more than a small bowl."
The night came far too quickly. Draco spent the whole day at her office instead of leaving. Together, they created the map for their summoning circle and ensured the potion was fully ready. They had dinner again, though most of it was spent pouring over the book and her notes, the food barely touched.
Suddenly, it was time. Hermione's stomach flipped as she gathered the necessary supplies. Draco helped her, and just as they were about to descend to the Death Chamber, he placed a warm hand on her shoulder.
"If this doesn't work, we can try again."
Draco's words reassured her and gave Hermione the confidence she needed. They walked to the Veil and immediately began to paint the summoning circle around it. The potion glowed on the brush as it slid along the stone. Once she was done, the room had a faint blue hue to it.
"Give me your arm," Hermione reached out a hand toward Draco, but he stepped back.
"I can do it myself, Granger. I've been doing it all this time." He pulled the knife from his pocket, and grabbed the new, large bowl from her hands.
Hermione huffed but stayed silent and watched as Draco pressed the blade to the inside of his wrist. He'd have to make a large cut now—three time's as much blood was needed. Each point of the circle needed a rune, and each rune needed to be painted with the ancestor's blood.
Draco swayed on his feet, and Hermione quickly uncorked a blood-replenishing potion, shoving it to his chest. "Drink."
His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, a small bit of the liquid dribbling down the side of his mouth. The bowl was nearly full, and after another few minutes, it touched the brim. Hermione ordered Draco to sit and drink another potion while she painted the runes—he'd need more strength for the second part.
The red contrasted deeply against the glowing blue potion, and as she finished the final rune with barely enough blood, Draco stood. Together they drank what was left of the potion, the liquid tasting sweet and fizzy.
Draco handed her a mithril needle. "Ready?"
Hermione nodded and pricked her finger, a crimson drop swelling on her skin. Across from her, Draco did the same. The Veil flickered between them as they bent to the ground and together drew Ehwaz, the final rune.
Just as she finished the final line of the Rune, a knit of dread clenched in her belly.
No. No Draco had done the calculations, had researched the runes to use. Hermione had double-checked his work and agreed to it. Draco was smart; this had to be right.
But as the black curtain of the Veil pulsated and throbbed, Hermione realised something was wrong.
She'd written the wrong rune.
Sirius counted sheep for the twelfth time. He replayed a memory like a muggle television. He thought about Hermione and what she was doing.
His mind always went back to Hermione. How couldn't it, when he had nothing else to do?
Sirius hadn't died. No, he survived in a limbo state, neither dead nor alive. Just simply...existing. It could have driven him mad, the endless nothingness. But it wasn't scary; on the contrary, Sirius felt safe. The dark encased him like a tight cocoon, surrounded by only his mind and memories. He had done nothing else but watch moments of his life over and over again like a play. Time held no meaning here. It could have been hours, days, years.
Until Hermione showed up and opened his eyes.
The draw to the top had been undeniable. Sirius felt her first, a tug on his subconscious like the pull of a rope. He tried to ignore it, but eventually, the rope won, and his eyes opened to the outside world.
A woman stood before him, and it took him a moment to recognise her. She looked beautiful, her hair barely tamed. Hermione had filled out—grown—matured. Sirius couldn't deny the arousal that spiked in him as she leant closer to the Veil. It was wrong; he knew it was wrong. But it didn't stop him from reaching a hand out and mumbling her name.
"Hermione..."
Hermione froze and stared into the Veil. Sirius tried to peer closer, his face near the surface.
She stumbled and fell back in surprise, her hand skidding along the jagged stones. She had heard him! Excitement grew in Sirius, so he tried to say her name again.
"Hermione..."
He had been too brave. Just as he mumbled her name again, the darkness pulled him back, returning Sirius to its inky depths. The dark no longer felt comforting; instead, it had felt like an icy grip around his throat. He felt suffocated, too contained. He replayed the memory of Hermione's face daily.
It had been quiet since then. The darkness held Sirius prisoner now.
Until today.
A faint glow scratched at Sirius' subconscious, like a crescent moon in the night sky. It grew brighter the longer it stayed until suddenly, it blasted forth with a burning white light. The tug Sirius had felt weeks ago returned, stronger and more forceful. He felt like he was being pulled from drowning in an ocean, his head coming over water.
His vision faded—the light dimmed. It was replaced by a warm glow, arguing voices, and oxygen. Sweet, sweet, oxygen.
Sirius sucked in gasping breaths, his lungs filling for the first time in who knew how long. Something tugged on his wrist, and he cracked open his eyes to the sight of a glowing silver rope tied around his arm. His gaze trailed up until it stopped at the surprised face of Hermione Granger.
"Sirius!" Tears brimmed the corners of her eyes as she pulled him into a hug. "How are you feeling? Are you alright? Merlin—"
"Hermione, what's happened? Where are the Death Eaters?"
Hermione pulled back quickly and scanned his face. Something about her drew Sirius to her. Like a memory he couldn't recall. He felt as if he'd been obliviated.
"Sirius, it's been ten years. You died."
A wave had crashed over him, his body shivering with a long forgot feeling. He remembered that flash from Bellatrix, being shoved to the Veil. He remembered the blackness, the memories, and he remembered seeing Hermione.
Sirius plopped down on the stone, and Hermione jolted forward.
"Easy, Black. We've got a bit of a predicament at the moment." Draco said tersely.
Sirius stared at Draco. He had the same eyes as him, the Black-family grey. "Draco Malfoy. Merlin, you look... And Hermione. Fuck's sake."
"You're alright." Hermione reached out a shaking hand and placed it on his shoulder. The glowing rope around her wrist shifted as she moved, and Draco walked forward, arm outstretched. Sirius grabbed her hand and inspected the cuff.
Both he and Draco had one glowing rope on opposite wrists, but they both connected to Hermione.
Who had two.
"What is this?" Sirius asked as he tugged on his rope.
Draco glared at Hermione. "I would love to know the answer as well. Granger, how did you fuck this up?"
"I did not fuck this up; you fucked it up!" Hermione's voice echoed against the stone walls. "It was probably your stupid sigil! I knew I should've done the calculations myself."
Draco pulled on his rope, Hermione crashing into his chest. Sirius was tugged along as well, though he was still sitting. Draco grabbed Hermione's face, "What runes did you use?"
"What?" Hermione furrowed her brow.
"What runes did you draw on the ground?" He punctuated each word like he was explaining it to a simpleton.
"The same ones we talked about all day!"
The anger behind his eyes glowed as brightly as their rope as he replied, "List them for me."
Hermione rolled her eyes, "Ingwaz, Othala, earth, wind, water, fire, Ehwaz—"
"WHAT?!" Draco shouted, his voice echoing in the chamber. He dropped his hands from Hermione's face and stumbled back. "We said Mannaz, not Ehwaz! You've bonded us, Granger!"
Sirius couldn't help the laughter that bubbled in his chest. It exploded out of his mouth, and he doubled over. He was freed from one prison, only to be thrust into another and another. Once his laughter subsided, he patted his coat, ignoring the stares on his back.
The cigarette pack was just as he remembered, and he pulled them from his pocket. Ten years may have passed here, but Sirius felt as he always had. He popped a white stick in his mouth and pulled his enchanted metal lighter out.
"Sirius! You can't smoke in here!" Hermione reached forward and snatched the cigarette from his lips. She studied it curiously, and Sirius took the opportunity to place another in his mouth.
That one was snatched as well, but by a pair of long pale fingers.
"Interesting," Draco mumbled. "It hasn't aged a day."
Hermione looked up from the cigarette to study Sirius. "You don't look as if you've aged at all since you died. We need to get you to St. Mungos right away, but first, I'll need to owl Kingsley and Sterling."
Together the three of them navigated walking back up to Hermione's office. They discovered they could get about three feet from each other before the ropes tugged. The longer they went without tugging on the ropes, the fainter they glowed until eventually, they disappeared altogether.
Of course, Sirius had to test out the limits, and the moment he pulled his hand three feet away, Hermione's wrist tugged, and the rope came back into view. Sirius sat and glared at the invisible rope between Hermione and Draco, but Hermione was too deep in thought, her thoughts racing to figure out what went wrong.
She wrote the two letters quickly, scribbling half-formed sentences in her haste for her hand to keep up with her brain. They made it to the owlery without much of a to-do, though both ropes now glowed brightly. Walking proved difficult, especially with Sirius begging for a cigarette.
The letters were sent, and they navigated back to her office, waiting for Kingsley and Sterling to arrive.
"So I take it you heard me?" Sirius asked as they settled back in their original seats.
Hermione nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! And then I discovered this book—" She pulled it out and handed it to him. He studied it for a moment before flipping through the pages.
Sirius was always so animated, and his emotions easily read across his face while he scanned the potion recipe.
He looked up to Draco. "You gave your blood for me?"
Draco shrugged. "Don't look at me like some hero. I made a deal with Granger, that's all."
Sirius pulled her into a tight hug, and she felt Draco's rope tug. "Thank you, Hermione. Thank you for bringing me back."
"You don't look a day over thirty-six, my friend." Kinglsey and Sterling stood in the door, and Kinglsey rushed forward to embrace Sirius. He pulled back at arms-length, inspecting Sirius from head to toe. "Merlin, look at you!"
But then his eyes caught the glowing rope affixed to his wrist. "What is that?"
All eyes fell on Hermione. Her heart raced, and a flush covered her cheeks. "It wasn't my fault, Minister! Some miscalculations were made, but I promise to dedicate every waking moment to finding a solution!"
Kinglsey glanced around the room, his eyes settling back on Hermione with focused calm. That was one thing about Kingsley no other Minister had—he was cool under pressure.
"You'll all fix this; I suppose you won't have much choice in the matter."
Hermione rushed forward and gripped Kingsley's arm. "Harry—"
"Yes, Harry can be notified now that it's worked." Kingsley sent Sterling to send him an owl. "Alright, Sirius. Time to tell us what happened behind the Veil."
Another hour passed as Sirius told them of what little he remembered from his time in the Veil.
"Black, just endless black," he kept repeating over and over again. A healer came to inspect him, and Harry followed shortly after.
Harry stopped short in the doorway as his eyes landed on Sirius. "It can't be..." He slumped against the doorframe.
Sirius stood and reached out to him, but it yanked Hermione's wrist. Harry's eyes instantly went to the glowing silver rope and followed it down to Malfoy. "Hermione? What's going on?"
Hermione rubbed her face, and Sirius returned to his seat, glaring at the ground. Draco stayed silent.
"This wasn't supposed to happen," Hermione bit out as angry tears pricked her eyes. She was frustrated—somehow, she had messed up. And tired, Merlin. She had barely slept in the past few days, and her irritability was nearing its tipping point.
Sirius placed a hand on her head and pulled her against his chest. "It's alright, kitten. We'll figure it out."
The familiar pet name overwhelmed Hermione—no one had called her that since Sirius. A few tears trailed down her cheeks and she hastily wiped them away.
"You'll have to," Kingsley announced. "From now on, Hermione, you're assigned to figuring out a way to get rid of this bond."
Draco groaned, "Why do I feel like there's a but?"
"Unfortunately, yes. You'll have to stay in Grimmauld Place. Harry and I will arrange everything."
"But sir! My research!" Hermione yelled, pulling away from Sirius.
Kingsley held up a hand. "We'll have it sent to you, Hermione. The public can't know we brought Sirius back and this happened. The Ministry must stay in the public's good graces."
Draco stood and rushed forward, yanking Hermione along with him. "Shacklebolt, my mother. She's ill; I can't leave her alone."
"I'll go and see her personally, Draco," Kingsley said.
Hermione placed a hand on Draco's arm. "And we'll go and see her when we're able. I didn't know she was sick."
"She hasn't even told me yet," Draco grumbled and plopped back on the stool. "But it's obvious something is wrong. I can't let her see me like this." He groaned, covering his face with his hands. "This wasn't supposed to happen."
"Malfoy, it's alright, we'll figure this out—"
"You don't understand! This was only supposed to be getting my Wizengamot seats back and being seen here by the press!"
Hermione was utterly confused. "But I thought you hated the Daily Prophet?"
Draco snorted, the sound completely unlike him. "Who do you think told them when I first started coming? Didn't you find it odd I never used a Notice-Me-Not-charm or tried to disguise myself?"
"But you said—"
"I say a lot of things, Granger. I need the seats, and I needed to use you."
Hermione couldn't stop the pricking of tears that filled her eyes. She didn't even know why she was upset. She should have expected this, especially from a Malfoy.
"Please stop crying." Draco sighed deeply and tugged on his hair. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for any of this to happen! But I need the Wizengamot on my side; I need to have them approve my request. Four times a year, I submit it, and it's denied every time, and now..."
Hermione wanted to ask him what the request was, but her throat closed as tears pricked her eyes. She turned away and scrubbed her face.
"Speaking of, Minister," Draco hissed. "When will I be getting my seats? The potion is done; Sirius is alive."
Kingsley crossed his arms. "Once you figure out how to break the bond, you'll have your seats."
"That's not what was agreed to." Draco bit out. His tone pulled Hermione's watery eyes to him. His jaw was set, teeth clenching in anger.
"I'm sorry, Malfoy. But there's an entire ceremony involved when seats are taken again. No one else can know about the bond. Until it's broken, your seats remain empty."
Sirius stood, his stool scraping the stone floors. The room fell into a tense silence. "If we're done with the pleasantries, I've been waiting for my cigarette for nearly two hours and ten years, and I'd like to spend some time with my godson."
They all stepped out of Hermione's office, Sirius, Draco and Hermione maneuvering behind everyone else. Sirius and Harry only spoke of happy things, which Hermione was glad for. Harry told him about his job as an Auror, what life with Blaise was like.
"And we've cleared your name!" Harry exclaimed. "The whole world knows it was Wormtail that gave my parents away to Voldemort. That you were innocent."
Sirius clapped Harry on the shoulder, his eyes clouded, but a grin spread on his face. "Thank you, Harry. I'm sorry that it's me and not them that came back."
"Don't say that," Harry replied, voice quivering. "I'm very happy to have you back, Sirius."
Hermione kept her gaze to the floor. She felt like an outsider, listening in on a private conversation. But the ropes around her wrist prevented her from giving them space. Already, she was annoyed by them.
They neared the Floos, Kingsley rushing them to use it. "Tomorrow, I'll send Harry to have one installed between his flat and yours. He will be your source for the outside world, alright, Harry?"
Harry nodded and hugged Sirius tightly, then Hermione. He even gave Draco a light hug. When he pulled back, Draco looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin. "I'll be by in the morning and drop off food and the like. I don't think that pantry has been stocked in a year."
"Oh Harry, Crookshanks!" Hermione gasped. "You'll need to feed him."
"Don't worry. Blaise will be more than happy to watch Crookshanks; you know how well those two get along."
The three of them squeezed into the Floo. Hermione's chest pressed against Draco's, and Sirius stood behind them. His arms wrapped around both their waists as the green flames consumed them.
Tumbling into Grimmauld Place was painful. Hermione's jaw hit the ground, her teeth clacking together as Sirius fell atop both her and Draco. Draco's hand splayed against her stomach, and the other was wrapped around her arm—he had tried to catch her fall.
Sirius rolled off of them, and the three stood as they inspected themselves for injuries. Draco's knuckles were red, and Hermione was glad she hadn't bit her tongue.
"Home sweet home," Sirius muttered as he glanced about the living room.
Hermione nodded as Draco inspected her chin, his fingers placed gently on the side of her face. Her stomach flipped when his grey eyes ran across her skin. "Yes, home sweet home."