Here is the continuation of my story. Thanks to all those of you who reviewed and pointed out some mistakes I made. Last chapter's disclaimer still stands. I have been procrastinating on this chapter for a while since I was busy working and being a good student… Nope, I was busy watching the season premiere of supernatural season 11. And watching once more the originals season 2. So basically I did everything but being productive. Yet I finally finished it.
Please enjoy.
Ephraim
Chapter 6 – Up and alive
Draco's POV
-30th of August-
Darkness. Utter Darkness. Funny how accustomed Draco had grown to the soundless, lightless abyss that had become his torment. If he would have been awake, he would have noticed that it had been two months since he had fallen in that void. His closed eyelids were becoming a quite familiar sight. Recently, the pain had become a bit duller than what it used to be. Deep down, Draco was afraid it was because he was dying, but he refused to believe that his time had come. Blaise's visits in his subconscious were less and less frequent and the wizard somehow came to miss greatly the voice that constantly reminded him that he was still alive. Not that he'd tell anybody but he was terrified of never waking up. He no longer saw glimpses of the room or of Granger. Even if the pain had dimmed, the dreading sensation that his spirit was slowly slipping out of his body lingered like a reminder of the energy the curse was draining from his body.
That day-never mind that, it could as well have been the night, Draco would have seen no difference-He felt for the first time in months a fuzzy sensation. The tip of his fingers seem to nudge. He blinked once, twice, and let a disappointed sigh. He only saw darkness. So he was still under the blasted curse. But as he was falling back into a restless sleep again, he saw it. Well, he saw them.
Hovering mere meters away from him, a couple of small, blinding lights were floating, like angels in a starless night. And the only thing he could think about was:
"Okay. Now I'm dead."
Hermione's POV
Hermione dropped her book with frustration and let her head fall back onto the window sill. The last days she had grown increasingly impatient and increasingly convinced that there were no way out the grounds. She had tried walking the farthest that she could but she always had to come back because of Malfoy. She had walked two hours straight and then two hours back, without any results. They were seemingly surrounded by fields of purplish coloured flowers suspiciously looking like lavender. Hermione was at her wit's end to find a way to somehow leave. Their reserve of fresh food was running very low and even if the garden was magical and enchanted, there was a natural limit to the speed at which she could grow vegetables. She had procrastinated for the last week and had stalled in the production of new potions. Truth was, Hermione never felt more alone than then. Her friends were achieving an important quest and there she was, not helping at all. She felt useless and tired. The routine she had followed for the first month wasn't quite working anymore and she found herself rebelling against her own rules. Her visits to the resident sick Slytherin were more random and whenever she felt like. Organized, smart Hermione was, for once in her life, at a loss of organization.
The room was cluttered, littered with ripped pages, scrunched balls of papers, spilt ink and empty cups. Hermione had stopped going outside daily, instead staying in the comfort of her room.
She pulled at her hair. Uggh! She was going crazy! Inn school, at least, she had classes, her homework, her work with S.P.E.W, helping out Harry and Ron, and even more classes to attend. It was truly the first time she was left to herself.
She jumped from her bed and sat, legs crossed on the comfortably warm wooden floor. Recently she had read in her book about the benefits of meditation for wizards. Apparently so, the simple exercise allowed the witch or wizard's psyche to clear and to be ready for spellcasting. It enhanced greatly the caster's strength. The young Gryffindor had mediated twice a day each days for the past two weeks and kept on doing it; her nerves were thanking her. She relaxed and cleared her mind. The last thing she saw before closing her eyes was the faintest glint of the few first shiny stars.
The only thing with her constant meditation, was that she had no idea whatsoever about the time she spent like that. It could be hours before she would wake up from her trance. She let her mind wander for a bit before closing the stream of thoughts and just… exist. In the darkness of her own mind, she stared at the nothingness for a while. She allowed herself to be lost, to feel nothing, to remember nothing. Unbeknownst to her, hours flew by, and the moon slowly started the course across the ink coloured sky. The stars were soon covered by a thick ribbon of clouds. It would probably rain the next day. Unbeknownst to her were also the tiny particles of dust gently floating around, or the gentle wind that filtered by the minuscule opening of the window. She was painfully oblivious of the white paint cracking on the door and the small wasp endlessly flying towards the bulb of light she had left on the porch. She was profoundly deep in her thoughts.
Suddenly a shuffling sound shook her out of her meditation. She stood silently, her mind so concentrated she could hear every single heartbeat she was producing. She put her back to the door, ready to round the wall and face whatever threat was standing on the other side. She breathed sharply and the disturbance sounded again. She tried to remember everything she ever learned in DADA and the duel club about offensive spellcasting and attacking first. She steadied her stance, anchored her feet to the ground, ready to get defensive if there was a need. Finally the mystery intruder was close enough for Hermione to hex it into oblivion, so the Gryffindor swirled around her wand and came face to face with two grey eyes on a very surprised looking Draco Malfoy.
Walking.
Out of bed.
Looking a bit pale, but out of bed.
And looking like he was on the verge of having an attack.
- Granger. He breathed out. He closed his eyes in relief and let his head roll back.
- Malfoy! Hermione let out a strangled laugh. I could hug you right now. Her wand fell to her side and her frantic heartbeat decreased a bit.
Said Malfoy managed to etch a strange smirk.
- I'd rather not Granger. He drawled.
Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed. Yes, he was himself alright. He was leaning against the wall with a half-annoyed-half-angry-hundred-percent-tired face. It was just then she realised how ridiculously old he seemed. He was trying to look intimidating or, at the least, he tried to look unnerving, and he was failing. A short beard had grown on his chin, his hair had somehow taken three or four centimeters of length and they were hanging loosely around his sunken face. He was wearing incredibly muggle-like clothes, namely an old pair of joggers and a sweater that had seen better days. And he was barefooted.
Hermione laughed.
She let all the anger, the nervousness and the fatigue from the last months flow in a burst of laughter. She clutched her stomach as the laugh bubbled out. Draco Malfoy, the haughty, sickeningly rich, muggleborn despising pureblood Slytherin was standing barefooted, in a sweater, in front of her looking like a sleep deprived homeless man.
When she finally stopped with the hysterical laughing, Draco was glaring at her with flushed cheeks. From embarrassment or anger, she did not know, but the latter was much more probable.
- Are you quite finished?
He tried to step forward. Note the use of tried. He stumbled and groaned in apparent pain. Hermione stopped grinning.
- Come on Malfoy. To the living room. I'll check your back and fill you in on our… situation.
She used that strict, no nonsense tone so akin to McGonagall's that it was scary. And Malfoy had the nerve to snort at her.
- Merlin, Granger. What'd you eat for breakfast?
He reluctantly took a couple of hesitant steps down the hallway. Hermione was actually surprised he had heeded her order.
- Following an order from a mudblood, Malfoy? I'm surprised.
The Gryffindor's crude use of the derogative word seemed to stop her schoolmate in his step and he turned his cold face towards her.
- I'm well above childish banter about blood purity. Pureblood, halfblood, muggleborn. I don't care the blood status, as long as they stay out of my way and leave me the hell alone.
He turned back and the rest of the short walk was done in uncomfortable silence. It left Hermione thinking about the sudden change in Draco's values. In the past, blood purity had been a big deal for him and he had hurt her feelings more than once with his remarks. What had caused the noticeable change, she did not know, but she felt like it made him a better human, somehow.
Draco crashed on the ancient-looking marine sofa Hermione thought was the most uncomfortable. The young witch motioned for him to take off his shirt nervously, ready to answer whatever snappy comment he was about to throw at her but he merely obliged. Groaning and attempting to hide a wince, the Slytherin grabbed the hem of the sweater and pulled it out with difficulty.
- So what happened? He asked while Hermione probed to search for residual magic. He was siting Indian style and she sat behind him, poking his back with her wand and not so gently kneading the knotted muscles here and there.
In the days he had been bedridden, Draco had lost a lot of mass, muscular or otherwise. But his body would recover and he would probably gain back what he lost. Hermione found there were a panoply of scars varying in shape and colour. She assumed it was due to the period of time before she had found him at the death eaters' lair. Hermione took her time to answer, instead making sure that nothing remained of the blasted dark curse.
- You've been cursed by you dear aunt as we got out. You managed to get us into somewhere full of snow. And then you transported us again. All the way here.
- Cursed?
- Something called the Roots of fever. Ancient dark magic with no cure.
He grunted as her hand kneaded a wrong spot on the low part of his spine. She pressed again.
- Does it hurt if I press here?
Another groan.
- What do you think, Granger? He spat, obviously in pain.
She pressed once more, feeling satisfied with the squeak of pain that bubbled from the boy.
- Play nice Malfoy, or I won't.
She was surprised at herself. Merlin! Where had she learned to be that…
- You sound like a Slytherin, Granger. Maybe green would have suited you better than that ugly Gryffindor red.
There was a smirk in his voice, and Hermione didn't bother to answer his comment.
- Good thing is that the curse seems to have ended. The mark lifted from your skin. The less good thing is that you are going to feel achy and your back is probably going to be painful for a while but it's normal. It's on its way of healing.
- Hmmh hmmh. He answered half-heartedly. He was looking around at that point, eyes travelling over the rich furniture and the expensive decorations. Hey Granger? Where are we?
She sighed frustratingly.
- I was hoping you could answer that. I don't know where we are, and I've been trying to disapparate but it's not working and I don't know why.
- It frustrates you, doesn't it? Know-it-all Granger not knowing why.
She wanted so bad to wipe that smirk from that damn face.
- Well, for your information, he continued. I think I might actually know where we are. This looks familiarly like one of the Malfoy estates abroad.
He gestured around.
- I can see many of my family's coat of arms here. It's unusually warm and the air is filled with humidity. And by the look of the garden, the grounds are magical.
He looked straight at her with some kind of excitement in his eyes.
- We're in the Italian countryside. In one of my family house.
Italy. Wow. Hermione had always wanted to travel. She had been to France, but had only visited the countryside. She had never actually been to Paris, but she always wanted to.
- I assume you already came her? She spoke up.
He nodded.
- When I was younger, I came once or twice. Actually, I'm surprised I even remembered the place.
Hermione hummed. It was easier to apparate to a place you knew well. Draco was right to question his ability to apparate. Never mind the actual remembering, Malfoy had traveled them kilometers upon kilometers away from the country. She would remember to test his magical potential once they found a way out of there.
He raked a hand through his hair and made a disgusted grimace.
- My hair is disgusting. How long as it been since I fell kind of asleep?
- Two months, give or take a couple of days.
The expression on the face of the Slytherin was priceless. A mix of awe and profound horror. Like in a trance he stepped off the sofa and walked to the hallway, still shaky on his feet.
- Wait! Malfoy! Where are you going?!
He turned around with a devious smirk.
- I'm going to run a hot bath. Do you care to join me?
Hermione flushed. She'd been around guys for ages, with Harry and Ron for years but it was the first time a boy said something suggesting like that to her. She fiercely shook her head. Draco's smirk widened.
- Your loss.
She threw him a towel carefully folded in a cupboard.
Draco's POV
With the soft white towel wrapped around his waist, Draco contemplated his newly rediscovered body. His hair was way too long to be deemed decent, his nails needed a little trimming and he needed to eat and shave the beard he didn't know could grow on him. He huffed. It annoyed him greatly that he didn't have his wand; he'd have to get a new one. His nails he could himself, but if he didn't want to scalp himself, he'd have to rely on Granger for the hair. Merlin.
He wasn't too pleased with the result of two months of bedrest. Before Voldemort decided to go all revengy-vengy on him, Draco had a nice body. Toned by quidditch, he was tall and fit. Not exactly the bodybuilder but he considered it to be very decent. Now he just looked kind of lanky and awkward. Well, he'd have to work to get his physic back.
After deciding it was enough time spent being narcissistic for the day, he threw on a decent grey cotton long sleeved shirt and fancy black jeans, the only piece of muggle fashion he remotely liked. Besides, if he was to go outside or happened to being seen, the goal was to look natural. And in muggle Italy, normal meant muggle clothes and muggle looks.
He swayed a bit down the stairs and was surprised to see the beautiful sunrise by the window. He hadn't quite realised, but he had awakened in the middle of the night. It had scared him senseless, to see only a couple of orbs floating around like Yukoner Firebees, the deadly self-inflammable insects he had only seen once. He later realised that they were nothing more than balls of light, which Granger had placed in case he'd wake up.
He had followed the trail of Firebee lights, as he had taken to call them, until he'd reach a half opened door. He was just about to open it further when the crazy lion chick had jumped out of nowhere and was threatening him with a wand.
But now that the sun had risen Hermione was taking care of putting out all the lights, the fifty or something she had put in the garden and all those that floated around the house, bouncing haphazardly against one another. Draco wandered around the house, admiring the furniture, brushing his hands across the mahogany glory box in a corner of the drawing room. He was feeling calmer now that he had taken a shower. But the feeling of calm promptly came to an end with Granger's shout across the rooms.
- Malfoy! Get down here!
There was no distress in her voice but there was command. Draco felt no need to obey but was compelled by curiosity. He lazily made his way to the porch where the Gryffindor witch was standing, arms crossed over her chest. She was wearing a long Ochre peasant skirt, or at least he thought it was called that way. Tucked in it, she wore a white dress shirt adorned with delicate embroidered red flower motif near the neckline. The countryside apparel was suiting her, if Draco was completely honest.
He leaned against the wall nonchalantly and stared. He was trying to make her uncomfortable, yet she unnervingly stood her grounds. He huffed in annoyance and broke the stare down contest.
- What do you want Granger?
- We're going to do some tests, to see if we can apparate.
- What, now?
- Yes, now. So try put on some shoes and let's get going.
- Do you ever sleep, Granger? Draco was incredulous. She wanted him to try and disapparate when he had trouble with walking. He lifted his weight from the wall and came to plant himself in front of her.
Hermione scowled at their close proximity.
- Because I'm tired, I have trouble moving, I need to eat and I need a haircut. He continued. So doing your tests are going to have to wait.
He turned around and stepped out on the porch.
Hermione's POV
Damn Malfoy.