Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.
Chapter 5
01 June 1999
Nearing the end of term, Hermione found herself with a lot of free time. Most NEWT students were studying in the library or cramming in various alcoves. Hermione, however, discovered that she was able to study when everyone was away from the dormitories and then could roam the halls when everyone came back to sleep. That's how she found herself in the fifth floor corridor at the cusp of curfew.
She was going to miss these halls, the paintings, and all of the magic that surrounded her daily. She knew it was part of growing up, but the thought of leaving Hogwarts for a second time made her emotional. There were so many good times, even with the innumerable bad times.
One of the more surprising elements of eighth year was watching Draco Malfoy change from an arrogant bastard to a helpful, almost kind… friend.
As she rounded a corner on her way to a moving staircase, Hermione saw him. The Draco Malfoy she'd known as early as the year prior was all but gone. He ducked down to help a first year Hufflepuff who was clearly upset. The little girl had tears in her eyes and as she explained to Malfoy what was wrong, she sniffed and rubbed her runny nose all over the sleeve of her cloak. Malfoy didn't so much as grimace at the sight of the little girl making a snotty mess everywhere. Hermione smiled.
"It's easy to get turned around in these corridors," Draco soothed her and squatted down in front of her. "Hufflepuff common room is down near the kitchens and you're on the fifth floor."
Draco used his hands to show the little girl where to go, and Hermione smiled as he gave her directions down each of the moving staircases, what to wait for, which portraits to speak to, and then he handed her a little slip of paper and sent her on her way.
Hermione approached Draco as he stood straight. He watched the little Hufflepuff descend the first staircase.
"You know, I never thought I'd see the day that Draco Malfoy would willingly help a Hufflepuff." Hermione chuckled when he startled.
"I stopped thinking of people in terms of their houses a while ago, Granger." He knocked shoulders with her and before she knew it, they were roaming the corridors side-by-side. Aimless.
"Are you going to miss it?" She asked as they reached the corridor leading to the dungeons. They both paused and Draco leaned against the wall with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He stared down at the shine of his dragonhide boots.
He nodded, tucking his chin with a small smile. "Yes. I haven't felt quite as safe anywhere else."
"I know exactly what you mean." Hermione matched his smile and put her back to the wall right beside him. "I will definitely miss it."
"You're not going to cry on me, are you, Granger?" He was teasing her, a playful lilt in his voice.
"Probably not." She rolled her eyes and bumped her shoulder against him much like he'd done to her earlier.
They stared at one another for several quiet moments. She couldn't believe all that had changed over the past year. He was someone she'd grown to appreciate and knew that whatever friendship they had cultivated this year was going to last — for as long as he was alive. His voice was soft when he bid her goodnight and it took Hermione several moments to push herself from the wall and head back to the common room. Something nagged at her the entire way.
Draco's soul was unquestionably damned to Hell. It was her fault, her weakness that did it. Of course, he'd been desperate and she took advantage of it, but at the time she truly felt as if he deserved it for all of his crimes during the war. Now… Hermione sighed as she passed the library. She walked backward and stared at the door. Her hand reached out and turned the knob.
She wondered if there was a way to negate the deal that Draco made with her. If she could save him eternal damnation. Maybe once upon a time, he'd deserved to burn in Hell for his sins. But not anymore — certainly not at her hand.
Hermione pushed the door open and set to work in the restricted section. There had to be something —anything — to help her save Draco Malfoy's soul.
"It's called 'The Belonging,'" Hermione whispered. "I found it in a book I…borrowed from the Headmistress' private library after I turned out empty-handed in the Restricted Section."
Draco suppressed a smile at the evidence of guilt on her cheeks.
"It's rumored to be the spell that bound the first House Elves with wizardkind." A cloud passed over her features. "It binds two beings together. Irrevocably."
Draco frowned. "How?"
"From what I could decipher of the ancient text, it allows the witch or wizard to take full ownership of the other's soul. Their essences, their fates—all intertwined."
"But our souls already belong to others," Draco said bitterly. "Yours to the devil, and mine to Hell."
Hermione shook her head. "This spell—if it works, it will erase all other claims on the soul. We'll be free of them. Free of our obligations."
"Only to belong to each other." He held her hand between his. "Are you sure about this? Granger—Hermione—this is going to be forever. Are you sure you won't rather be tied to the devil himself?"
She reached over, tracing his cheekbone with the tips of her fingers. His skin tingled at her touch. "What's the old saying?" she murmured. "'Better the devil you know?'" She gave him a watery smile. "What about you? Do you want to do this? Bind yourself to me?"
He held her gaze as he brought her hand to his lips, a ghost of a kiss on her knuckles. "It will be my honor," he said roughly.
The smile on her face grew brighter, and hope swelled in his chest.
"Let's do this," he said, "before that mangy mutt comes bursting through the door."
Her face fell. "About that…"
There was no sneaking around that time. No ambush; no taking the hellhound by surprise. They ran to Hermione's compartment with two goals: find the book lying at the bottom of her trunk, and recite the incantation before either of them gets killed or reaped.
"This was a bad idea!" Hermione yelled as they tore down the corridor. The hellhound, which had been prowling down the train, hunting them, nipped at their heels.
"Almost there," Draco huffed. He pedaled his legs faster, dragging her behind him.
They reached her long-abandoned compartment, and he slammed the door as soon as she cleared the threshold. The hellhound crashed against it in the next instant.
"Hurry," Draco said as he flicked his wand over the door. He threw up ward after ward, hoping that they would hold fast.
Hermione climbed a bench and pulled her trunk down from the shelf. She popped it open and shoveled through her clothes, pulling out a scuffed leather book. "I got it!"
Draco scrambled away from the door and knelt beside her. She shuffled through the yellowed pages. Draco bent forward, squinting at the nearly faded writing. "What the fuck? It's not even Latin!"
The door trembled as though the hellhound threw its immense body against it. It filled the compartment with heart-stopping growls.
"No," she muttered as she flipped through the pages. "It's Sumerian."
He pulled back, staring at her in awe. "You can read Sumerian?"
Hermione flashed him an irritated look. "I was bored!" With a grunt, she focused on the pages. "Are you going to let me work, or are you—ah! Here it is!" She spread the book open on the floor, pointing to the passage written in cuneiform.
As if the hellhound knew what they were doing, it released a vicious snarl and battered the door. A crack splintered along the hinges.
"We have to do it together. Are you ready?" she asked.
Draco nodded, reaching for her hand, steadying her trembling fingers.
"Repeat after me," she whispered. "Nadanu shi-ani…"
He echoed her, phrase after phrase. Although he did not understand the words, his soul knew the truth in the incantation.
Give your soul to me freely.
Bind yourself to me wholly.
Belong to me forevermore.
With each syllable from his lips, he felt coiling in his chest, like a snake readying to strike.
And as that feeling compressed and tightened, the pounding at the door grew more violent. The hellhound howled, hammering the entire wall with its body.
"—simtum darisam!"
The coil in his chest sprung with such force that it knocked the wind from his lungs. He doubled over; in the periphery of his vision, Hermione had also fallen forward, her forehead pressed to the floor.
Outside, the hellhound released a long, sorrowful whine.
And then, there was silence.
After an agonizing moment, his chest sucked in air. He coughed, his throat raw. "Are you all right?"
"I—yes, I think so." Hermione sat back on her heels, gulping in air. "You?"
He nodded, eyes cutting to the still and silent doorway. "Is it gone?"
She squeezed her eyes shut, brows furrowed in concentration. "I think so," she murmured. "I can't feel it anymore. I can only feel—" Her eyes snapped open.
He met her gaze squarely. He felt it, too. Like a taut line from his frantically beating heart to hers. Briefly, he closed his eyes and reached for that connection, strong and bright and eternal. "I guess it worked," he said in awe.
Draco held out a palm; waited.
After a heartbeat, her hand slid into his grasp.