A Life Everlasting Chapter 2
Hermione Granger thought she must have been losing her sanity. When the blond—Draco—grabbed her wrists she felt a sensation as though her gut was slipping up into her throat. She must have finally fainted because she was suddenly standing with the two men in front of a strange black cottage, hidden in the forest. Draco looked down at her. "You feel alright?" he asked quietly.
Hermione eyed him warily. "Did I faint?"
He laughed and she enjoyed the unrestrained sound of it. "No. We Apparated here."
"Apparated? Like an apparition? Have I died?" she wrinkled her brow and frowned.
Draco shook his head. "No. Just a moment ago we were standing in the forest where we found you. Now we're about a mile away, not but a second having passed. That's Apparation."
Hermione was confused. How could an individual go from one place to another so quickly? Her stomach roiled as she pondered the logistics and she felt hot tears pricking her eyes. Draco took her hand once more and pulled her behind him, following Theo into the cottage. "Mum? Dad?" Theo called.
For a moment, the home was silent. Hermione took in the sight of the home. It was small and seemingly hand built. There was a large hearth to one side of a small sitting area, a tight but functioning kitchen nestled on the opposite side. The soft glow of a candle lit the room as a man and woman filed in from behind a door, clearly having been woken from slumber. "What is it, dear?" the woman asked, eyeing Hermione with a frightened and confused look on her face.
The woman was the most beautiful individual she'd ever seen. Her hair was a shade of honey blond and her features were striking and prominent. The man was equally as attractive. His hair was the exact same shade as Draco's—the white blond colour of corn silk. His eyes were grey and as Hermione looked between father and son, she noticed for the first time that Draco's were the same strange shade. How exotic—she'd never met anyone with grey eyes before.
Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest and she couldn't stop the freely flowing tears now. "Please let me go. I do not know what you think I saw, but I assure you, it was too dark in the forest for me to see anything," she pleaded.
The woman took a step toward her and retrieved a handkerchief from her sleeve. She blotted at Hermione's cheeks. "There, there, lass. You'll be just fine. No need to be frightened."
"Please. Just let me go home to my family. I'm sure they are plenty worried about me—they will be sending out a party in search of me soon!" she replied, hoping that her last words came off like a threat.
"I have no doubt they will," the woman said kindly, her own eyes worried and guarded.
"What should we do?" Theo cut in. "Obliviate her?"
"No!" the eldest man spat, staring at the new female curiously.
"Then what? She saw our wands! She knows!" Theo protested.
"Silence, Theodore!" the eldest man said, lifting a hand to silence the young man.
Draco was staring between his parents and Hermione, his hand still wrapped firmly around her smaller one. "I think she's different from the other Muggles, Father."
"You're allowing your obvious attraction for her to cloud your judgement, Draco," Theo started once more. "She is dangerous."
"No, Theodore. I suspect Draco is correct in his assumptions," the elder male said.
He extended his hand to Hermione and Draco finally released her. Hermione was crying steadily, each breath agonising as her lungs expanded painfully within her corset. The man lifted her hand and looked into her face. His eyes narrowed and he lifted his chin and looked down his nose at her, analysing her silently. "Please," Hermione whispered.
"Miss Granger? My name is Lucius Malfoy and this is my wife, Narcissa. Our crass sons, Theo and Draco. We do not want you to be frightened of us," he said, speaking slowly.
His words did nothing to assuage the fear that coursed through Hermione. "I just want to go home."
Narcissa looked up at her husband and he gave her a furtive glance and nodded once. Narcissa looked back at her and took the hand that Lucius still held. "Come along, Miss Granger. Why don't we get you into bed and we can have a proper talk in the morning, hmmm?"
Narcissa gently pulled her and Hermione looked back at the two boys who had captured her. Theo was glaring and Draco looked on in sad intrigue. "Please, madam. I just want to go home," Hermione whispered her plea.
"I'm afraid that's not possible. Not yet," Narcissa replied, patting her hand on the younger female's.
"I'm only seventeen—I'm too young to die! Please—I'm set to be married soon!" Hermione was grovelling in the most uncharacteristic manner, unbecoming of a woman in the turn of the century.
Narcissa smiled wistfully at her and nodded. "There, there. Everything will be explained to you in the morning. How about we get you out of that contraption so you can breathe?"
She poked Hermione's corset with a gentle fingertip. Hermione wasn't going home. She had been stolen away. The thought brought on a fresh round of broken sobs. "Please don't cry, Miss Granger. All will be revealed in due time," Narcissa soothed, spinning Hermione.
She felt Narcissa's fingers make quick work of the buttons lining the back of her dress and then the gown puddled at her feet. Hermione had half a mind to protest, but there was something in the gentle demeanor of the woman that calmed her fright. She felt something drag down the lacing of her corset and suddenly the strings were loosening, faster than even Mother's deft fingers could unlace. Hermione looked over her shoulder and saw that Narcissa also had a strange stick—a wand Theo had called them earlier.
"That's it, dear. Can you breathe now?" she asked in a mothering way, removing the offending garment completely.
Hermione took in a harsh breath, a pang ringing in her still cinched abdomen. She nodded, feeling small. Narcissa came around to stand before her and cupped her chin. "We will not harm you. But there is a great deal you must learn before we let you go once more. Knowledge without understanding is a dangerous thing."
Hermione was more confused than she'd ever been in her life. All this talk of wands and Apparating and knowledge—of what, she still didn't know—coupled with her afternoon spent running had exhausted her. "I've just brewed a sleeping draught. Drink this. It'll help you sleep," Narcissa said, retrieving a small glass vial from her pocket.
Hermione eyed it, just knowing it was full of poison. Narcissa pursed her lips and uncorked the vial. She put it between her own lips and took a sip. "See? No poison," she said as though she could read Hermione's thoughts.
Can she read my thoughts? Hermione wondered as she took the vial and brought it to her lips. She drank the liquid, ghastly tasting and bitter, and handed the vial back to Narcissa. "Here. You'll sleep in Draco's room. He can sleep with Theodore," she said, pulling back an intricately stitched quilt to allow Hermione to climb in.
She was clad in her chemise and knee length drawers, the crisp white linen material suddenly scratchy against her skin. Hermione climbed into the bed and Narcissa pulled the covers over her and sat on the edge of the bed and pushed one of Hermione's fallen curls behind her ear. "It's all going to be fine, child. I promise," she said as Hermione's tears dampened Draco's pillow. "Let rest take you now."
Hermione couldn't help but feel the heavy grogginess settle over her. As the bitter liquid overtook her, she was becoming increasingly less worried. Her eyes finally closed and she allowed herself to slumber.
o-o-o
The sound of sausage sizzling in a pan woke Hermione the next morning. The smell made her stomach rumble—she hadn't had a bite of food since the day before at breakfast. She stood and tried to pull her corset on, unable to lace the back on her own. She stepped lightly to the door and peeked around it into the sitting area. Narcissa looked up from where she was cooking and gave her a kind smile. "Did you sleep well?" she asked, wiping her hands on a cloth draped over her shoulder.
Hermione nodded shyly and refused to leave behind the door. Draco looked up from where he was peeling potatoes at the rough worn table, a curious eyebrow raised. "Missus Malfoy? I need assistance," she said softly, her cheeks staining a bright red as Draco looked back down at his task, his own cheeks pinkening.
Narcissa slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. "There's no need for a corset here, Miss Granger. I suspect you'd be glad to be free of that dreadful garment?"
Hermione nodded, but bit her lip—a habit that had earned her several of her Mother's swift backhands. She didn't know how her gown would fit without the corset drawing her abdomen for those few precious inches. Narcissa seemed to sense this. She took the wand from a pocket tucked into her own swishy petticoats and whispered something strange. The gown rose around Hermione and she heard the tearing of seams as the dress moved of its own accord and restitched itself. Hermione knew then that she really was going insane.
"There…we'll get you something more to wear sewn up soon, hmmm? That stifling collar makes me want to faint!" Narcissa exclaimed, placing a kind hand on Hermione's cheek.
The young woman bristled under her touch. "You told me that you'd explain this all to me. Please—I just want to know so that I can go home sooner."
"Come have a spot of breakfast and a cup of tea, dear. After that, we'll talk."
Hermione looked into the small hanging looking glass and saw that her reflection was horrid. Her hair had come out of its pins long ago and was a wild mane of curls. Her waist was bordering on what her mother would call 'pudgy.' Her face was puffy and raw from all of the salty tears she'd shed.
She went out into the main room of the cottage and stood behind the chair next to Draco at the worn dining table. He didn't rise when she came up and she pulled her own chair to sit. His cheeks were pink once more as he stared intently at the potato he was peeling. "I hope you found my room suitable to your needs?" he asked quietly.
Hermione nodded, thinking how uncouth it was to mention that she'd slept in his bed, regardless of whether or not he was also in it. The family was unpolished and clearly lived off the land, everything they had seemingly handmade. Not at all what Hermione was used to in the boring, stuffy world of the Grangers. He had finished his task and with a wave of his hand, the potato peelings rose from the table surface and disposed of themselves in a nearby pail. Another wave of his hand and the potatoes all landed in a deep pot that was bubbling over an open flame in the hearth.
Hermione could feel her mouth agape and she closed it. It was unladylike to gape like a fish in water. But she was battling the confusion she felt as she watched objects move of their own accord. She had lost minutes of time last night and had been transported an unrealistic distance in seconds. Narcissa had loosened her gown with a few strange words.
"What, pray tell, is going on here? This," she gestured to the spoon stirring itself in the pot, "is not real. It can't be!"
Narcissa eyed her son warily. "Go get your father," she told him.
Draco rose from the table and went out a rickety door to the outside. Hermione grew nervous once more as she thought of the long-haired man who had held her hand and looked at her in an odd manner. The two men returned after a brief moment, Lucius carrying a rope of fish for their next meal. "Miss Granger," he nodded in her direction.
She looked up at him and held his long gaze. "Please tell me what is going on."
Lucius sat down across from her and angled his body so that he could take her hands in his. "Miss Granger—Hermione…tell me…have you ever had anything strange or unusual happen around you?"
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Since I met you all last night, it's been nothing but strange and unusual."
Draco let out a laugh and she felt butterflies tickle her belly at the sound. She refused to look up to where he stood behind his father. Lucius smiled a small upturn of the lips. "I meant…have you ever wished for something to happen—something seemingly impossible—and then it came to fruition?"
Hermione thought about it. Those types of incidents happened to her all the time. The last one, she'd wished the caviar on her plate would disintegrate and then had to hide her plate with a napkin when it did. "So what if I have? I'm sure it happens to everyone."
Lucius shook his head. "No. Not everyone."
"Then it is mere coincidence, then," Hermione reasoned.
Narcissa gave her a sympathetic smile as she placed plates of food around the table. Lucius squeezed her hands and Draco was smirking. "It's not a coincidence and it's not something that everyone can do. That is why you must understand what you are, what we are before we bring you home. It is very dangerous for us all if anyone were to find out and it is imperative you keep our secret, Hermione."
Hermione couldn't make heads or tails of what Lucius was saying. "Well, out with it then. Enough with these confusing riddles!" she nearly shrieked, her frustration winning.
Lucius put a calming hand to hover over her chest. "Breathe."
"Stop tiptoeing around! What are we?" she asked, placing a particularly nasty emphasis on the last word.
"You are a witch, my dear," Lucius stated, leaning back in the old chair, a wide and triumphant grin on his face.
Draco was smiling as he gauged her reaction. "Like in Macbeth?" Hermione asked and then she let out a long, hearty laugh—one that bordered on hysterical.
Draco's smile fell as she carried on and Lucius and Narcissa stared at her, mild amusement on their faces. "It's true," Narcissa admitted.
"A witch? I couldn't possibly!" she exclaimed.
Draco came up next to her and knelt before her. He held his hand out and within a few seconds, a blue flame burst forth in his palm. He lifted her hand, palm up. "Concentrate on creating the same kind of flame, right here in your own palm," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, pointing to a spot in the centre of her palm.
Hermione's heart was thrumming incessantly in her chest as she tried to steady her breath. She stared at her palm and could envision the flame sprouting from her skin. As she willed it to be, it was. A flame—hers a deep purple—burst forth and she nearly jumped at the sight.
Draco looked up at her from where he knelt and smiled handsomely at her. "See?" he asked, his voice excited but quiet.
Hermione stared at the flame as it danced before her and then imagined it turning into a bumblebee. Within moments the bee flew away from them and out the open kitchen window. The Malfoy's were all looking triumphantly at her, expecting her to join in their joy. Instead, she broke down and cried.
Draco moved forward and pushed her wild curls behind her ear. "Don't cry. It's not something to be upset over."
"I'm a freak!" she lamented.
"No! You are a witch! And likely a good one, considering you can conjure something in the palm of your hand with no training whatsoever," Lucius corrected her fiercely.
"I don't understand," she said, frowning deeply.
"All of the odd occurrences in your life—every time you've wished something to happen and it did, every time you've made an object move with your mind, every time you've conjured something from thin air…It's because you have magic—ancient and primal—running through your veins," Lucius explained.
Hermione's mind was racing as she tried to make sense of it all. She could feel her mouth hanging open as her eyes darted back and forth as she thought. "Draco," Lucius' drawl broke the moment of silence, "Why don't you and Hermione go for a walk? Maybe show her to the wood?"
Draco raised an eyebrow and stood, extending his hand to her. She rose and promptly dropped his hand. He took a quick bite of potatoes and walked out of the back door, Hermione following. "Am I mad?" she asked after they reached a well-worn path into the wood.
He laughed lightly. "No. You're perfectly sane. It's a shock to you, now. But soon, you'll understand and you'll feel as though you've always known."
"Why does your father want you to take me into the woods? Are you going to hurt me?" she asked, suddenly fearful.
He looked up at her, his brow pinched in the middle. "What? No. He wants to see if a specific tree calls to you."
"Why?" she asked.
"You'll need a wand," he replied, brandishing his own.
"A wand?"
He nodded and handed his over to her. She turned the curious trinket over in her hands. It was smooth and sturdy and she could feel a strange tingling in her hand that spread through her arm. "Ten inches, made from the branch of a hawthorn tree. A single unicorn hair runs through the centre," he explained.
"Unicorn?" she asked, her eyes bugging from her head.
"There are creatures that exist outside of written word…where do you think Muggles think of such oddities to write fairy tales about?" he asked.
"Muggles?"
"Non-magical people."
Hermione took a deep breath and looked around as they slowly ambled over the path. The bright sunlight showed through the trees canopy and created playful shadows across their bodies. "So, we just walk until a tree calls to me? What will the tree say?" she asked.
"So many questions," Draco laughed.
"I'm sorry. This is all…a bit much," she admitted.
Her heart hadn't stopped drumming steadily in her chest since she'd conjured the flame. He gave her another handsome smile. "It's all right…I suppose this could be a bit overwhelming. We take you in the night, away from your family and then we tell you that you possess strange abilities. I can appreciate your anxiety."
Hermione felt her heart clench a little more. Her parents. "When can I go home?" she asked him once more.
"I suspect after we've taught you how to control and hone your magic. And once we can trust that you won't expose us," he shrugged.
Hermione sighed. "My parents do not understand me. They don't care for my personality at all. Mother simply wants me to be the picturesque lady, waiting on bated breath for a rich man to pay enough of a dowry in exchange for my hand in marriage. And Father tends to agree."
He looked over at her as he stopped walking momentarily. "They don't understand you because you're different. I guarantee you they knew something was amiss with you and it probably scared them. But you're around people now, with whom you have something in common."
He started forward once more as they came along to the end of the path. A wide, expansive lake spread out before them. Draco walked down to the edge of the lake and slipped off his boots and set them aside. He rolled his pant legs up and walked along the edge of the water. Hermione's dress dragged ever so slightly and Draco pointed his wand at the gown. Muttering something under his breath, her gown rose three inches, exposing her ankles. A pretty blush painted her cheeks.
Ahead, there was a long branch hanging down in their path, a twisting vine connecting two trees along the edge of the lake. Draco leaned to lift it out of her way and she put a hand out to steady herself and brushed against the vine. She felt the tingle in her arm once more, stronger this time and the wind picked up around her. Her curls lifted and blew about, becoming increasingly wilder with every second. Draco raised an eyebrow and looked at the area where her hand was connected with the twisting wood vine. "Interesting."
Hermione looked at him and lifted her hand away from the branch. "What?"
"That vine wood should call to you. Vine calls to individuals who seek more out of life," he said, using his wand to create two sharply cauterised areas about a foot apart in the vine.
He retrieved the chunk of wood and pocketed his wand, Hermione eyeing him the whole time. She still couldn't wrap her mind around it all. A witch? Everything she'd been taught her entire life pointed at the Devil's work. She looked at the man next to her, young, handsome and seemingly carefree, and he looked anything but the Devil. She could only imagine the look of abject horror on Mother's face when she realised her only daughter was a witch.
o-o-o
