A Hermione/Draco Romance
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I am not JK Rowling, nor do I have anything to do with Harry Potter besides fanfiction. I am not making any money out of this story, and I am not worth suing.
Chapter 8
The light was ahead, not so far that it was a speck, but close enough he was able to see his hands, his arms. Somehow, he forced himself to keep going, to keep moving, towards the light. Didn't they say to go away from the light? Didn't that mean you were dead, or dying?
It didn't seem to matter. He had to keep going, the darkness was too much to handle any more. The grave... the grave was unnerving... why was there a grave in the middle of a dark place? Did that mean that people actually died here? Or maybe he'd dreamt it too, like he'd dreamed about the other person, the one who urged him on all the time?
Whatever, he'd find out soon enough. Was the light leading back to the room, the torture room? Or was the light leading to freedom, painless freedom?
Not taking time out to dwell on his chances, he forced himself to move forwards, into the source of the light... it came closer, closer, until finally, he could touch it. He couldn't see through it, but he could reach his hand forwards, and feel the light.
He dragged himself the last few steps, and then... there was nothing. He felt nothing... nothing underneath him, above him, to either side. There was no darkness here, there was nothing.
And then, as though someone had jerked him swiftly down, he was falling, quickly, tumbling down what felt like a mountain side. Perhaps it was, he couldn't have been to sure what it was at that point.
He felt his weight land heavily on his wrist, felt something snap under the pressure, felt no pain where there should have been... and still he continued to tumble. Head over heels, until the ground began to level out, and a large, heavy object broke his fall. Things spun in front of his eyes, a face... or what looked like a face... swirled around with the rest of the world, combining colours, combining light! But the light didn't last, as he felt himself being pulled under, the black hiding the colours from view.
Draco looked at his wand. There were marks on the end of it, tiny scratches from where Hermione had tried to grab it with her nails the night before. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the image of her. It didn't work. Damn he thought to himself, she's persistent even when she's not around. It was almost mid-day on a Wednesday, and double potions was the last class of the day. Double Hermione... double trouble more like.
He walked through the classroom door, surprised to see only two other people in the dungeon. Servus, and Snape. Both glared at Draco as though he'd done something wrong, though what that would be was beyond him, and went back to glaring at one another. Finally, a small group of Gryffindors walked through the doorway, destroying whatever traces of disgust were left on the faces of both.
Draco took his seat slowly, watching Servus from the corner of his eye. He didn't trust the fool as far as he could throw him, and he was willing to bet that something was going on between Servus and Snape, which no one would find particually helpful. Especially himself.
The potions class was every bit as long as what he'd expected, and it didn't help to have eyes burning holes through his back either, as Servus was doing. Hermione, who sat near and helped Neville as usual, seemed unaffected by Draco's pressence, and that drove him crazy. She was sitting within three feet of him, and he couldn't touch her. He was edgy, snapping at more than one person game enough to ask him a question. With a groan, he realised it would be a long day.
The ceremony that would take place on the years anniversary of Harry and Ron's disapearence wasn't too far away. Each student had been told they could wear Muggle clothes, as long as they were in dark colours as a sign of respect. Almost every student Hermione had spoken to was wearing Muggle clothing, and she decided she would as well. It wasn't like she had much else - her dress robes needed replacing, and she didn't dare to go to Hogsmeade without permission again - someone else she cared about could go missing.
The potions lesson, which had taken up the last of the afternoon, had been an almost total disaster. She had felt Draco watching her the whole time, heard him snap at his work partners. It was something she was unused to, seeing him unnerved, and it was, in a way, quite funny. Somehow she'd manages to keep herself under control, but she was still amazed at how no one else noticed the few, quick glances she sent towards Draco.
It was these glances that she saw how stressed he was looking, his hand quite often scratching the side of his neck - something he did when he was worried or annoyed with something.
Hermione stretched along the length of her bed. It was unusual for her to actually look at the roof in her room, but now she was, it was really a work of art. The Gryffindor emblem was depicted on the ceiling, and the lion often moved around, sometimes sleeping, sometimes standing how it was meant to. The roof was a welcomed change from the photograph on her bedside table... the one of Harry, Ron, and herself.
The small clock on her bedside table, bewitched to work in Hogwarts, chimed 6 o'clock. Why had she set the alarm? Thinking back to the night before, she remembered what she had planned to do at 6.
Slowly, she stood up and walked down the stairs, staying on the lookout for anyone who might catch her. The common room was deserted, as far as she could tell, and there were no signs to say anyone was planning to enter soon. She went to her quarter of the room, unfolded the blanket from the couch, and sat down in front of the fire.
She reached her hand in the general direction of the wood box, but instead of removing a log of wood, she pushed it out of the way revealing a small trapdoor. Underneath was a hollow portion, about a foot deep, and not much wider. Inside this compartment was a small flask with a bright blue liquid inside, two candles, two candleholders, and Harry's Invisibility Cloak.
She took out first the candleholders, then the candles, and finally the cloak. She closed the trapdoor and moved the wood box back into place. She unfolded the cloak and slung it over her shoulders, letting it cover the candles as well.
Removing her wand from underneath her robes, she whispered a spell to ignite the candles. The first candle, a red one, burnt with a pale red flame. The second candle, the black one, burnt with a blue flame. She sat and let both candles burn down, taking no notice of the people who walked to the doorway of the common room until she heard her name mentioned. Then, she listened intently without turning around... it was Draco talking, his voice was unmistakable, but who was he talking to? It was a female, that she was sure of.
"... don't care. I made a promise, and I don't intend to break it. I couldn't give a rats tail about what you think!"
"Draco, think with your head, not your hormones! There's no way a Mudblood with two Muggle parents will ever survive in the wizarding world, and you know it!"
"Shut up, ok? You're jealous you can't do half the spells and charms she can, and you come from a pureblood family!"
"I would never be jealous of a mudblood... and there was a time when you wouldn't even look at one let alone stand up for one!"
"Get out,"
"You can't kick me out, I have just as much right as you!"
"No you don't, I'm the goddamn prefect here, and I'm telling you to get out! Now!"
"Fine, but you'll pay for this, Malfoy. You just wait and see, there is no way you're ever going to live this down!"
Hearing the portrait slam shut, Hermione let two tears run down her cheeks. Maybe the other Slytherin was right... maybe she couldn't survive in the wizarding world... maybe it was wrong of her to make Draco promise not to hurt her... then he could just leave and not think anything of it, the simple way - no ties, no commitments... nothing but freedom.
Realising Draco hadn't left the room, she swiveled around to see what he was doing. He was pacing in front of the portrait to get to the Slytherin common room, muttering something about 'damn ignorant Slytherin's'. It was enough to bring a smile to Hermione's face, remembering how she, Ron, and Harry would often do the same thing.
A lack of light soon took her attention back to the candles, which had burnt out by now, and she wondered how she would get them back in their right places without alerting Draco to her presence. She didn't wonder for long, as Iris called Draco from the corridor. Muttering still, he headed out, leaving Hermione enough time to replace the things and head for her room. Somewhere, though her heart told her differently, she wondered again if she had done the right thing in asking Draco to promise her...
Light... had he really seen light? Had he actually touched it, felt it? Why then had it been dark almost at once afterwards? Was all light like this... there only for a second? There was a memory striving to get through, just below the surface of his mind, but he wasn't sure it was retrievable.
Struggling to open his eyes, he felt things he hadn't for a long time... warmth, something soft beneath him... He found one final surge of energy and he opened his eyes with a jerk. There was light, not much, but there it was. A small globe, hanging from the roof... it wasn't the harsh, white light that made him flinch every time he saw it; it was softer, gentle... comforting even. It was magical, he was sure of that, because only magical lights floated in mid-air directly above one's bed without a cord or line connecting it to anything.
It didn't take long for someone to walk to the side of the bed. Hollow footsteps that made his skin crawl... they sounded like the footsteps inside... He lay there, looking at the ceiling, hearing his heart pound painfully in his chest, not knowing if he were back inside, if he hadn't left at all... if he were really free...
The footsteps stopped, and he dared to look to one side. A face, old yet kindly looking, peered closely at him, almost searching his mind intensively. "Ronald Weasley... it is good to finally see you again," he spoke, his voice low, but friendly. Was that his name? It hadn't really mattered inside... they didn't call them anything inside... but his cellmate had... his cellmate had called him Ron, many times... maybe it was his name...
He swallowed, trying to find his voice. It seemed so long ago that he'd actually used his voice... "I... I... Do I know you?" he asked finally, slowly. The man seemed hurt slightly when he replied. "You did, once. My name is Professor Albus Dumbledore... I'm the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where you once attended. Do you remember Hogwarts, Mr Weasley?"
He looked away, trying to find a memory, just one, of a place called Hogwarts... it seemed to be there, slightly. The man continued to talk. "Do you remember anything at all, Mr Weasley? Your family... you have a sister and five older brothers waiting for you at The Burrow... Your friends, perhaps?" Slowly, he found the strength to shake his head. "I don't remember anything... are you sure you found the right person?" The man sighed, "I am sure, but you are not. I'm afraid, Mr Weasley, that you have a lot to do before you can return home..."
A/N: I'm leaving it at that. I apologize for the lack of a SS in this chap, but I had ideas running through my head about this chap that couldn't wait til the next one.
