Chapter 7
"Malfoy!" Hermione exclaimed. "Wait up!" She yelled to him as she ran through the hall toward him. (Yes, her ankle is much better).
"Yes?" Malfoy kept walking giving her only his voice.
"Stop! Please?" She begged him while she ran after him. She was gaining on him, quickly.
He halted, sensing her weakness. She didn't have enough time to slow down, and as he turned around she ran straight into him. Malfoy's firebolt flew across the hall, and the two tumbled onto the floor, one on top of the other.
"Oops," Hermione said but didn't move due to the fact that she was half giggling and half crying. Malfoy just lay there, underneath Hermione, waiting for her. They stayed in that position until Hermione spoke, still giggling for some unknown reason. "Sorry, going too fast."
"Hermione? What's wrong?" Malfoy asked and she froze at hearing her name.
"Why would something be wrong?" Hermione questioned, obviously offended as she picked herself up.
"Hermione, you can talk to me, okay?" Malfoy assured her. He stood up, a little more gracefully than her. Hermione turned away from him, and it looked as though she had frozen. Slowly, Malfoy went up to her, and he turned her around. He saw that her face was glistening with tears that crawled down her face. He wiped away her tears with his sleeve, and pulled her into a tight embrace. "What's wrong?"
Hermione's voice broke, and she could barely whisper, "I'm scared. I… I didn't know I could control the air… it's too much. At times, I can't control it." She pondered for a minute or two, deciding what she should say next, and then, "I c…can't even tell my b…best friends. Not even Dumbledore… I can't keep it from them forever though. I'm scared, Draco." It sounded weird when he heard his name from her lips, as though she cared. The wind picked up, and waves of air appeared in the air, and began to leave the hall. She lay limp in his arms.
"Come on," he muttered to no one in particular. Malfoy picked her up and walked her to her room.
"Miss? Oh. Mr. Draco. So sorry," a small house elf whispered. "I didn't know you were busy, sir," the elf timidly bowed.
"What's the message?" Malfoy asked, seeming quite bored. He had been massaging Hermione's feet for the past twenty minutes, waiting for her to wake up.
"My mistress must come," she squeaked. "Her father is awaiting her."
"Her father?" He asked, and jumped up from the side of the bed. "Crap," he cursed under his breath. "Tell him that she will be down in a few. She needs to get ready," Malfoy said, as the little elf left. He gently shook her, and after a minute or two, he received a response.
Though, it wasn't the nicest response, for she rolled off the bed and landed on her stomach. She aimlessly felt around for the night table. Upon finding it, she pulled her alarm clock off the table, and it splintered to pieces.
"Hermione! Stop!" He yelled, and then he whispered, "Shh, calm down."
"I…" Hermione lay still on her stomach.
"Come on," he said, and gently picked up her hand, and brought her to a standing position. Slowly, he led her back to the bed and let her sit down. "Here, throw this on," he told her after he looked through her closet. He passed her a pair of tight jeans and a light pink tank top that said, 'Just ask me.' Then, he passed her a lightweight pink robe, because the weather was slowly growing colder. "I'll be outside if you need anything," he told her and quickly left.
"Hello, daughter," Voldemort greeted her and went to hug her, but she pushed him away.
"What do you want?" She glared at him.
"I wanted to tell you that you will be branded with the mark in October. On Halloween," he stated.
"I'm what?" she exclaimed.
"You are my rightful heir and my daughter. You will get the dark mark in October. Is that clear?"
"No. I will not," she defied him.
"You will. You have no choice."
"There is always a choice," Hermione wit-fully told him.
"Not here there isn't. You will go and get branded, is that clear?"
"No."
"You are forcing me, Hermione." He gave her a warning look, and then harshly said, "crucio." Hermione started to twitch, but about thirty seconds into the spell; she sent a gust of wind at him, destroying his aim. With that, she turned and left the room.
