Common Senses: Hermione
Chapter 4: Vision
Procuring the permits to transfer the Magic Mirror had taken Hermione just over a week.
During that time, Draco had sent her daily owls. Written in his fancy, sprawling penmanship, each one reported in meticulous detail all the work his team had done that day.
Each one closed with, "I wish you were here. Hopefully soon."
She had not responded to any of them.
But now her self-imposed distance from the author was at an end. Hermione stood just outside Winchester Castle. Or rather, a storehouse that held most of Winchester Castle's prized possessions. The original Castle had been demolished in 1649 under Cromwell's orders, but in the years before that a wizard by the name of Owen Morholt had slowly secreted away many of the treasures (most of them magical) that had been housed there, hiding them in an unplottable, undetectable storehouse. Unfortunately, Morholt had died without telling anyone about what he had done. It was not until a few months ago, when a many-times removed relative had opened his diary that the storehouse was discovered. Ms. Many-times-removed-Morholt and another relative had visited the storehouse, and while sifting through the artifacts was accidentally transformed into a turtle. After a prolonged stay in St. Mungo's, Ms. Formerly-A-Turtle had turned the diary over to the Department of Mysteries.
Hermione squinted through the inscrutable fog, no doubt a Muggle-deterrent. Through the silvery mists, she carefully made her way towards a towering weeping willow whose branches danced along the waters of Avington Lake. The entrance to the storehouse was in the tree's trunk, and she could just make out the outline of the door. Pulling out her wand, she practiced the incantation she'd need to open the entrance, but just as she was about to cast, her hand trembled as a shiver crept down her spine. No wonder. Her clothes and hair, damp from the fog, clung to her skin.
The entrance swung open, and the warming spell that was on the tip of her tongue vanished into the ether. There, perfectly framed in the tree trunk, appeared the unmistakable silhouette of Draco Malfoy. The mists temporarily parted, and they stood there staring at each other. She searched his face anxiously. Given their last encounter and the way she'd been ignoring him, she had told herself to expect a frosty reception.
"You certainly took your time," he said, leaning against the tree frame. His lips curved softly, and his eyes seemed to sparkle at her. Whatever awkwardness she felt for her jealous outbursts, whatever resolve she'd conjured up to protect herself dissolved. She stood there, drinking in the sight of him, letting the warmth in his voice and the light of his smile dispel the chill air.
"I came here as soon as I acquired the permits," she finally said, tucking her wand away with a shaky hand.
She approached the entrance, and when Draco gave no indication of moving, ducked under his arm. Once she crossed the threshold, the door closed behind them, plunging them into near darkness. Having been informed by Draco's owls, she knew a labyrinth of underground passages awaited them, but she couldn't see any of it. Her sense of touch had less trouble adjusting to the lack of light. She felt his presence at her back like pinpricks on her skin, which she tried to ignore as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the low light provided by the torches hung up on the wall.
"It's best that I guide you," Draco said, slipping his hand in hers.
This would have been a great time to point out that they could cast a Lumos spell, but he squeezed her hand and she forgot what she meant to say.
"Your hands are like ice," Draco said, bowing over them.
"Yes, I was just about-"
Hermione's breath lodged in her throat, in stark contrast to Draco's, which flowed freely over her hands as he blew on them. He breathed on them once more before uttering a warming charm, which spread over her skin, suffused her damp clothes, and somehow penetrated her heart. With a gentle tug he pulled her forward. The audacity of this man! As if she were still capable of walking.
"Are you alright?" he asked, when she didn't move.
"I just need a second. Still waiting for the warming charm to finish its job," she lied.
"I'll catch you up then. Today we found a scroll showing Owen Morholt's connection to the artifacts," Draco said.
"I think I'm good now."
Once again Draco led the way, still chatting as Hermione followed after him through the soft firelight. "Turns out he wasn't some opportunistic thief, but a descendant of an apprentice to Merlin. The apprentice had tasked his family-watch your head," he said, ducking as they turned down a smaller hallway, "-with safeguarding a slew of magical items. We need to confirm it, but it's more than likely that many of the treasures here were created or used by Merlin or Morgan Le Fay."
Hermione's recently recovered walking ability suffered another blow as she tripped over the news. Draco turned around, presumably to see what was the matter, but broke into a wide grin upon seeing her face. "Amazing, isn't it?"
She dragged him forward, eager to see the storeroom.
"Careful, Hermione. There's some large stone steps coming up," he said. Large stone steps was an understatement. In reality they were platforms about four feet tall. Draco jumped down the first one and looked up at her expectantly, his arms outstretched.
"Don't be ridiculous. I can get down myself," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.
"Of course you can, but by the time we reached the bottom, you'd be covered in dirt. Besides, I would not be very chivalrous if I didn't offer."
"We couldn't have that, now could we?" she grumbled. She held her breath as he grasped her waist, determined that he wouldn't see how affected she was by his nearness.
"When in Camelot," he said, their bodies brushing against each other in a slow slide as he carefully lowered her to the landing.
Once more on equal footing, she discreetly inhaled before she passed out.
"Just four more steps, my lady."
Finally on the last step, they stood facing each other.
"We're not actually in Camelot," Hermione reminded herself rather belatedly, even as she stared into the face of her shining knight.
"Almost there," he said, his quiet voice carried through the stillness of the hall. "Just around the corner."
The tunnel terminated at a large wooden door. A circle was at its center, with rays emanating outward. And in the circle's center, an intricately carved rose. Hermione traced her fingers over the ancient wood. "Is this supposed to be the round table?"
"Most likely. It matches a table inside."
"Wow," Hermione said, goosebumps erupting over her skin.
"Ready?"
"I don't think anything can prepare me for this. It feels like I'm about to walk into a history book. Or an Arthurian legend," she said in hushed tones. She twisted her hands in her sweater. "I used to read those stories all the time...before I found out I was magical."
"Don't get your hopes up too high. Everything is scattered about pretty haphazardly, not unlike the Room of Requirement."
"Things rarely live up to expectations," she said with a sigh.
"Don't look so glum. I'm not saying this won't be magical, only that the storehouse is not the same thing as walking into King Arthur's court. With an imagination such as yours, I can't see you conjuring up anything less than a grand scene of knights and maidens. Sadly, it's only a bunch of overworked Ministry employees. But I will strive to the utmost to make this an experience you won't soon forget."
"That's not your responsibility."
"No, but it would be," he pressed his hand to his chest and gave her an exaggerated bow, "my honor."
Hermione tried not to smile, but her lips twitched upward despite her efforts. She dipped in a small curtsey. "Alright. Lead on, Sir Draco."
He blinked.
"Is something wrong?" Hermione asked.
"Not at all. You finally called me Draco."
Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "I did, didn't I?"
Draco cleared his throat. "Actually, before we go in, I've been meaning to ask…"
Hermione tensed. She had a feeling she knew where this was going.
"Did you receive my reports?" Draco asked, staring ahead at the closed door.
"Yes, thank you. They were most thorough."
Draco shrugged. "Were you able to make out anything from them?"
"Unfortunately, no."
"We haven't been able to either," he said, rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand. "May I ask you something?"
Hermione managed a slight nod.
"Why didn't you respond?"
"About that...I was-" trying to distance myself from you so I could stop wanting you so much. I'm scared by how much I like you, and how much I hope that you will like me back.
He'd asked her a perfectly logical question, but all her answers made her sound insane.
"I'm really sorry," she finally said. She felt even sorrier when Draco refused to meet her eyes. She hadn't meant to hurt him, only protect herself from being hurt.
In her more hopeful moments, Hermione thought he might like her, but she couldn't shake the worry that his attraction was surface-level. Meanwhile, she had dove off the deep end. The connection she felt to him was like a live wire, knit together with strands of physical attraction (naturally!), but also shared intellectual interests, gentle teasing, and overwhelming fondness. And this live wire had a stranglehold of her heart, sparking and sparkling whenever he drew near. At home, she'd replay their interactions from earlier in the day. At work, she'd look for him, eager to share what she'd discovered in her research or (more embarrassingly) the topics she'd rehearsed the previous night in anticipation of seeing him.
If by some chance Draco did return her feelings, and she allowed herself to act, Hermione would go all in. Clearly. She knew no other way. But she didn't want this to be another Elf Rights campaign. She wanted someone to invest in her with the same care, attention, and intensity that she would give.
And why were her feelings so intense anyway! How could she be in love with someone after such a short period of time? She'd only known Draco for two months.
Well, two months and fourteen years.
There was still so much to think about, so many concerns she'd need to address before she broached the subject with Draco. If she ever did.
Only he looked so hurt, she nearly blurted everything out then and there. Self-preservation had never been her strong suit. What little she had lay in tatters around her, and she could feel herself pick at it, her fingers itching to rip a piece off and wrap it around Draco. Anything so that wounded look would disappear from his face.
"I'm also sorry for how I acted earlier…in the Library. I had no right. You are free to like whomever you want," she said, sticking to the script.
"You were jealous."
Hermione had gone through scores of iterations of this conversation in her head since that stormy encounter in her bower. It sounded lame but the best she had been able to come up with short of confessing was, "I think I'm having some lingering side effects from the Primamore, and it caused me to act possessively."
She knew it was a lie, but maybe he wouldn't.
"Again, I'm really sorry," she repeated.
When Draco didn't say anything she looked up. His eyes bore into hers, but she couldn't decipher what he felt. Amusement, anger, disappointment?
"For the hundredth time, I do not like Sharon Vernus. I—"
"There you are!" The disembodied salt-and-pepper-covered head of Gregory Kelly bellowed from the doorway, reverberating in the small space. Hermione and Draco jumped apart. Greg's head disappeared but they could hear him announce to everyone inside, "They're here!" Disembodied Head reappearing once more he shouted, "We were just arguing over whether or not we should send out a search party."
Needing to escape, Hermione followed Greg into the chamber.
There must have been multiple expansion charms on the space, as the dimly lit earthen hallway would never have presaged such an open and airy underground space. Piles of weapons, heaped by type, dotted the floor. Suits of armor lined one wall, while chests overflowing with coin and jewelry lined the other. Cloaks, fine dresses, tapestries, tables, and wardrobes added to the maze of treasure. Scattered throughout were employees, prodding at the items with their wands, casting enchantments, and writing down their findings. The ones nearest her looked up.
"Granger's come to check herself out in our fancy mirror," Greg announced to anyone who would listen.
Those still paying attention gave her a brief nod and smile.
"For the record, I think you're beautiful," Greg said. "Eh, Malfoy?" Greg elbowed Draco, who had followed them in, none too subtly.
"She's exquisite," Draco said.
Hermione patted down a wayward curl.
"I'm glad you're finally here, Granger," Greg continued. "Maybe this one can stop bemoaning your absence at every turn."
Hermione snuck a glance at Draco. He stared intently at her. As if he wanted to see her reaction to the news.
Hermione gave in and twisted her hands in her sweater to her heart's content. "Well, I'm here now. Where's the mirror?"
"Over here," Sharon said, stepping out from a small door toward the back of the cavern.
"Are you sure you're up for this, Granger?" she shouted across the chamber as she walked over.
"Did you forget who you're speaking to?" Greg said before Hermione could answer.
"The same person who nearly fell face first into a Primamore fountain on her first day? Yes, I remember," Sharon said.
Hermione's fingers twitched, aching to wrap them around her wand and cast a friendly hex or two.
A comforting warmth settled on her neck. "You must be tired of going over the safety procedures with everyone. I'll make sure Hermione is caught up."
Sharon glared at Draco's hand on Hermione's person and wrinkled her nose. "You do that."
The comforting warmth migrated down her spine and nestled itself in the small of her back as Draco maneuvered her through the piles of antiquities.
The noise of activity disappeared once they stepped through the door.
"Sound-dampening charms," Draco explained.
"Ah."
They stood there for a moment before turning toward the glass.
A large white sheet had been draped over the imposing mirror, a rectangle-shaped ghost that loomed over them.
Hermione glanced over at Draco, who stared at the shrouded mirror. "Right. Safety procedures. If you want to look into the mirror, make sure there is another Unspeakable with you. Nothing bad has happened, but we just want to be safe. You both can't look in it at the same time, and when you're done make sure to apply a sticking charm to the sheet on the front side, so it can't fall off. The back side is fine to look at by yourself though. Actually, we just discovered an inscription on there earlier today."
"Really?"
"The mirror had been leaning against the wall, and it was kind of dirty. We found the stand out there and put it up properly just today. Greg cast some cleaning and polishing charms, and there it was."
"I suppose you already tried reading it backwards."
Draco's lips quirked in that familiar way, which used to irk her, but now irked her because she found it endearing. "It required some runic work and extrapolation. We just don't know what it means."
"What does it say?" Hermione asked.
"What will you do?"
"I don't know, but it can't hurt to know."
"No, Hermione, the inscription literally says 'What will you do?' Well, it does once you translate it."
Hermione squeezed her fists at her side, determined not to let the reckless way he said her name affect her. "I brought the notes you sent me. Is there anything else?"
Draco slapped the frame with a resounding smack, but the mirror neither wiggled nor wobbled. "We cast a ton of stability charms, so you don't have to worry about it toppling over. Someone even tripped into it, and it stayed upright."
He handed her a small notebook. "Also, a few of us looked into the mirror a second time, so there's a couple more visions. Nothing too illuminating though."
"Thank you."
"I should go back and look at the other stuff. They have me examining all of the swords. If you need anything, I'm right outside." Draco hovered quietly for a few seconds. When Hermione gave no answer, he said, "I'll leave you to it."
Hermione watched his broad back disappear through the doorway. Now alone, she sat down in front of the mirror. She cracked open the journal Draco had handed her. In all his many owls, Draco had neglected to send the one vision she was most interested in reading-his. She hadn't brought it up because she hadn't wanted to call attention to her silence.
Quickly, she flipped through the pages until she found Draco's familiar scrawl.
I was playing wizard's chess with Harry Potter in the library. We both looked to be in fourth year at Hogwarts. Ron Weasley was there, trash talking both of us. Hermione Granger was reading a book in the vicinity, occasionally shushing us. I won, and then we left to the Great Hall to eat Sunday brunch.
She flipped the page only to find someone else' writing.
That was it?
With less enthusiasm, she read the other accounts. Another, like Draco's, took place in the past. Another in the present, the others in the future. All captured different events, some epic in scope, others as mundane as a game of wizard's chess with a classmate. But there was no obvious connection. The only common thread they had so far determined was that none of the events had ever happened.
Hermione looked up from the notebook and stared into the covered mirror.
Regardless of sticking and stabilizing charms, Hermione carefully raised the sheet inch by inch until she could see the frame in which the mirror was held. A smooth, silver frame of quicksilver gleamed back at her, free of any carving or other adornment. The mercury must have been somehow charmed to remain solid at room temperature. The movement of her raising the sheet had set the mercury in motion, and it flowed and rippled over the mirror's frame for a few seconds before coming back to rest. She let the sheet drop back down and circled to the back.
Much more carelessly, she pushed the sheet aside and stared at the mirror's back. A large circle dominated the center, which wobbled for a few seconds until the quicksilver settled back into stillness. From the circle radiated four lines, pointing in cardinal directions. These branched off further and further, creating an intricate network of lines that went to the edges of the mirror frame and then disappeared. And in the middle of the circle, as Draco had said, etched into the quicksilver in ancient characters was the question, "What will you do?"
Hermione watched herself in the highly reflective metal. If she had not known better, she would have thought she was actually looking into the mirror itself. Her finger drew near to the symbols. She carefully traced the surface of one rune before pressing down on. She watched as the mercury licked at her fingertip. It was like dropping a small stone in a still pond. The lines emanating from the circle began to flow outward in concentric waves, like tiny, rippling rivers. Hermione's reflection swelled and shimmered until she pulled her hand away. Within a moment, the back of the mirror returned to its original state, as if she'd never touched it.
Hermione let the covering fall and circled back to the front. As she turned around its side, her shoe caught on the sheet. She fell to the floor, the sheet tangled around her lower legs. In horror, she tried to scramble up, but was only ensnared further. With a curse, she tried to prevent it from falling, but the sheet was too large, she was too small, and it was too late.
It spilled around her feet in a puddle of white.
Sticking charm, her arse.
Bending over, she scrambled to snatch the sheet up and put it back in its place before Sharon found out.
"Are you sure you can handle that, Hermione? Maybe you should let me do it?" Hermione grumbled through gritted teeth as she tried to secure the sheet in place.
The sound of shuffling feet behind her arrested her movement, and with dread she looked up into the mirror to see who it was. The welcome sight of Draco's reflection met her eyes. Hermione sighed in relief.
"Hermione, I forgot to-"
Draco's eyes widened, and he raced to her side. "Hermione! Are you OK?" His normally lazy drawl sounded rushed and strained.
She looked over at him, confused.
"What?"
"The mirror," he explained, placing his hands first on her shoulders, then on her cheeks. He peered into her eyes, anxiety apparent in his own. "Did it do anything to you?"
Hermione dropped the sheet, startled. She blinked, realizing that Draco's fear had mentally thrown her. She had forgotten all about looking into the mirror. "I'm fine. Nothing happened. It was just a second. But someone clearly forgot to cast the sticking charm."
A light pink crawled over his cheeks, and the right side of his mouth twisted up. She was no mind-reader, but she'd wager a guess that his sudden outburst of emotion embarrassed him. Covering his hands with her own, she smiled at him. "Thank you for your concern. It's very kind of you."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course I was concerned. What if you were harmed?"
"We'll, I'm not." Hermione grabbed at the sheet. "But if Sharon comes in and lectures me again, I might just jam my wand into my ears."
Draco stood behind her, making no effort to help her sorry attempts to throw the sheet over the top.
After the third time, she heard him approach behind her, felt the heat of him at her back as he lowered his lips close enough to her ear that she felt as well as heard him say, "You know, this would have been much easier with a wand. But since we are trying this the Muggle way, let me help you."
Of course, her wand! How could she have forgotten?! Hermione's head fell back, and she would have groaned, but her head now rested against the perfect pillow that was one of Draco's pectorals. Before she could jump away, he placed his hands on hers and took the sheet. Her sweater slid up her spine, dragged by his chest as he stretched to place the sheet over the top of the mirror. It was the work of a moment, but when he had finished he made no move to step away.
Hermione gulped, her head feeling as fuzzy as if she'd snorted concentrated Primamore Potion. But there was no potion present. Only Draco and the inescapable fact that she was in love with him.
In the little space between her and the mirror, Hermione stepped forward and turned around.
"You said you forgot to tell me something. What was it?"
Draco's eyes flicked up lazily from her hands, which were gripping the mirror's frame for dear life. "I don't remember."
"Well, thank you for helping me. I should probably get back to analyzing the reports."
Draco put his arm against the covered mirror, leaning over her. "Do you have a moment? There was something else I was hoping to consult with you about, something I discovered the other day."
Hermione swallowed. "Yes, of course."
His finger stroked lightly across her cheek. "These freckles here. Did you always have them or are they a recent acquisition?"
"I...I-"
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, turned her head to the side and exhaled shakily. Tried to complete a coherent sentence as he kept running his finger along her cheekbone. "Yes. They've always been there."
Draco ran his fingertip along her jaw, barely touching her, but every cell in her body seemed attuned to his movements. Down the column of her neck, along her collarbone, then up to her pulse point, which throbbed under his fingertips. She felt like she might fly out of her skin, and try as she might, she couldn't still the way she trembled under his touch.
"Cold?" he said, resting his hand at the base of her throat, letting his warmth seep into her already flushed skin.
"No," Hermione squeaked.
Draco raised his other hand, threading his fingers through the curls behind her ears, tipping her head back. Slowly, he examined her, his grey gaze following the contours of her face, as if committing her to memory. She worried at her bottom lip with her teeth, not sure how long she could withstand the heat of his scrutiny without doing something. His eyes darted to the movement. "How long have we known each other?"
"Two months and fourteen years."
He looked up from her mouth, meeting her gaze. His eyes were nearly black. "Really? That long?"
She nodded.
"All that time, and I've never noticed them."
Hermione swallowed again, clenching her fists at her side. "They're very faint. It's not as if you've ever been close enough to me to see them before now. And if I wear makeup, they're not even visi–"
He dipped his head, the side of his nose rubbing against the freckles in question. "No, I suppose not…but it makes one wonder what else I may have missed."
Hermione turned her face into his hand caressing her hair, causing his lips to brush against her neck. A small sound escaped her throat. "Oh, um, I have freckles all over."
Draco huffed a laugh, his breath tickling her. "Not exactly what I meant."
She began to shake, unable to stop no matter how tightly she wrapped her arms around herself. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because I want to see you."
"You see me all the time."
"I don't think I was looking hard enough. For instance," he gently twisted the fingers already entwined in her curls, "Your hair is enormous. Larger than life."
Normally, she would have taken offense, but he spoke with such fondness, twirled it so carefully in his fingers.
"That's hardly a secret," she said, though one would have thought it was a secret with the way she whispered it.
"Actually, everything about you is larger than life," he continued. "Your crazy hair, your enormous brain, your outsized personality, your epic stubbornness." His hands dropped to her waist and squeezed. "And yet you're so tiny." Circling her wrists, Draco drew them up by her ears, caging her against the mirror as he towered over her. "How can someone this small occupy so much space in my thoughts?"
"Draco, I...please."
"What is it that you want, Hermione? I'll give you anything."
She didn't know what she was asking for. But she wanted him to see her too.
"Please," she begged again as she rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him.
His pale, pink lips were so perfect, so soft against her mouth. She didn't want to stop. But she knew she had to or she'd lose control.
As she lowered herself back down, Draco stepped forward, bending further down so she couldn't break away. His tongue traced along her lower lip. Hermione felt boneless, her head falling back as she sighed into his mouth. He unpinned her hands from the mirror and moved them to his shoulders, only letting go once she started grabbing at his clothes. Hands now free, he grasped her hips, pulling her even closer, pulling her into him. Hermione whimpered, reveling in the press of his chest against hers, the feel of his legs tangled with hers, the way their heartbeats raced together and against each other. His hands slipped lower, settling and squeezing at the backs of her thighs. Her arms secure around his neck, he lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. They stumbled into the mirror, and Hermione managed a brief thank you to whomever cast the stabilizing charms. Her back now braced against the mirror, she buried her hands in his hair, inhaling in uneven spurts as she tried to catch her breath.
"Gods, how are you so beautiful?" he gasped against her throat.
"You think I'm beautiful?"
"The most beautiful girl I know," he said. He dropped his head to her shoulder, groaning. "These freckles...I want to kiss each and every one of them."
He proceeded to do just that. His mouth ghosted over her cheek, then pressed open-mouthed kisses to her neck. Hermione bit her lip to keep quiet, but when he sucked on her collarbone, she even gave that up.
Driven to distraction by his mouth, she started to babble. Things like how good he made her feel, how wonderful he felt, how gorgeous he was. How this felt like a dream.
"Careful, Hermione, or I might think you actually like me."
"I do."
"Tell me."
"I want to see you too."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. I like you, Draco. So, so much. So very much," she said, punctuating her breathless words with kisses.
"Do you now?"
"Pretty sure I'm in love with you."
Draco's mouth stopped moving against hers. His head snapped up, and he nearly dropped her.
"What did you say?"
What did she say?
Hermione felt the blood drain from her face as her brain finally caught up with her mouth. Slowly she untangled herself from Draco, putting her feet on the ground.
"I…"
Oh, how she wished she could take it back, but this wasn't something she could lie about.
"I'm in love with you," she whispered, staring at the hollow in his throat.
Head completely in a different place, she was not prepared to be grabbed by the shoulders and spun around.
"Hermione!"
Hermione gasped as her heart slammed against her chest.
Her eyes darted to Draco's. She had expected to find pity or horror, but instead he looked so anxious and worried.
"Pardon the interruption, but you looked rather entranced by the looking glass," he said glibly, at odds with the way he searched her eyes, ran his hands up and down her arms.
He bit his lower lip, and Hermione realized how pale they looked. Not like someone who had been making out with her for the past five minutes.
Hermione reared back.
"Hermione, it's me, Draco."
"Thank the gods," Hermione pressed a hand to her heart, dragging in ragged breath. She hadn't told him she was in love with him. It was all just a dream. A vision from the Magic Mirror. It would all be OK. It was just a dream. None of it was real.
Hermione buried her face in his chest, not wanting him to see what she looked like. Naturally, his hands flew to her face, tilting her head back. His brows drew together as he stroked her temples, searching her face anxiously. "What's wrong?"
She didn't answer.
"Your pupils are dilated. And you're out of breath." His cheeks turned pink, but he shook his head, clearing whatever thoughts he had. He raised the back of his hand to her forehead. "You're warm."
"I'm fine. Just a bit shaken." Gently, she pushed his hands away. How could she calm down when this was going down the same path as her vision?
Draco took a step back and released her. Pulling out his wand, he cast a spell, levitating the sheet over the mirror. "Did it put you in some kind of trance? There weren't any reports about the mirror messing with anyone's physical state, but they had all been prepared to look into the mirror. Maybe I should get the mediwizard."
That shook Hermione out of her stupor. "No! I'm fine. I promise. I just need a second."
He began running his hands up and down her arms again as he waited for her to calm herself.
"Are you sure? What did you see?"
Her traitorous eyes fell to his lips, then quickly fell away. "I…"
Draco drew her into his chest. She had the sense not to fight it again. It was better here, hidden in the softness of his shirt, where her eyes could not betray her. She took a few deep breaths, reveling in the tender way he cradled her head to his chest, allowing herself to relax.
"I can feel your heart pounding."
Hermione winced. "It's no big deal. Really."
"Please be more careful," he begged. "If anything-"
"What happened?!"
Hermione groaned quietly into Draco's chest. Sharon was the last person she wanted to deal with right now.
"What did she do?" Sharon shrieked.
Hermione stepped out of Draco's embrace. "I didn't do anything. Someone forgot to apply the sticking charm to the sheet, so when I tripped over the sheet, it fell off. I saw something in the mirror, and Draco helped me put the sheet back in place."
"Clearly you saw something disturbing, or you wouldn't be clinging to Malfoy like a vine."
"I'm fine. Just a bit shaken. That's all," Hermione protested.
"Are you sure? I could take you back to the hotel," Draco said.
"I just got here. I'd rather stay and examine the mirror some more."
"Great! Now I need to stay and play babysitter," Sharon said.
"I don't need assistance. Just a minute or two to collect my thoughts. Preferably alone."
She had added that last bit to get Sharon out of the room. Only it had the effect of taking Draco with her, though only after he had cast a sticking charm to the sheet and yanked on it numerous times to prove to himself it was in place.
Once alone, Hermione cast a quick spell to alert her if anyone came near. Certain she wouldn't have any surprise visitors, she pulled out an empty scroll and an extra fine point quill and began the excruciating process of writing down her vision.
Hermione transcribed the event as accurately as she could. It was a painstaking process, and more than once her abject humiliation escaped her body in the form of a muffled scream or full body tremor. If it weren't for the purpose of research, Hermione would have buried that fantasy deep within the recesses of her mind, never to be thought of again. Instead she had to re-live it, not omitting any action, word, thought, or feeling.
She tried to focus on the task for the sake of accuracy, but her mind raced ahead. If only she could figure the link between the various visions, determine the true purpose of the mirror. Then she needn't share what had happened. Yes, she had to solve this as quickly as possible. Barring that, perhaps she could make up a placeholder vision or write what took place in an allegorical way.
Hermione sighed. At least they weren't required to extract the memory and watch via Pensieve.
After she wrote down her account, she read it over twice more to make sure she had left nothing out. Finally, nearly two hours and and two feet of parchment later, she had finished. With a long sigh, she rolled up the scroll. Waving her wand over it, she sealed it, shrank it, and placed it in her robes.
For some reason, she envisioned it falling out and someone picking it up and reading its contents. The thought made her feel sick to her stomach, so she pulled it out again and added some more spells and wards. Now only she would be able to open it, and only she would be able to read what was written. Once more, she tucked it back in her robes.
Hermione stood and reached for the ceiling, standing on her tiptoes, savoring the stretch in her back and legs and the brief respite from the stress of the last few hours.
It was probably time to head back to the hotel where she'd no doubt spend all evening pouring over all the other visions to make sense of the blasted mirror.
After checking once more that the scroll was securely hidden in her robes, she took down her alarms and wards and entered the main chamber. Having joined the research group late in the day, she figured she would be one of the last ones there, apart from security.
Sure enough, when she exited, she could only see the guard across the way. "I'll just be another minute," she called out.
She turned to the nearest artifact, knowing she needed to call it a day, but desperate to look at one of the myriad treasures in the hall. Just a quick glance. That would have to be enough to hold her over until she could return tomorrow.
The closest thing at hand was a white gown, though as she inched closer she discovered it was actually an iridescent pale blue. Lighter than the sky, the material seemed to ripple, not unlike the mercury of the mirror. Deciding it best not to touch it, Hermione brought her fingertips close to the material, marveling at the way it seemed to gather and reflect light without casting any reflection.
"Greg has taken to calling that Nimue's Cloak."
Hermione straightened with a jolt. She released a slow breath, then turned to face Draco. "I can see why. It does look like something The Lady of the Lake would wear."
"Well, I'm sure we'll find out more soon."
"One can only hope." Hermione looked at her wristwatch. "It's late. What are you still doing here?"
"What kind of knight in shining armor would I be if I left you to apparate to the hotel by yourself?"
He offered her his arm. Hermione stared, not sure what to do.
"I know you're fully capable of apparating yourself, but I've already been to the hotel where we are staying. Plus, there was the whole thing with the mirror earlier. It's best we play it safe."
"Ah yes, what happened with the mirror."
Hermione placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, barely touching him.
"I forgot. We can't apparate from within the chamber," Draco said.
He led her toward the circular door, nodding to the guard in acknowledgement as they walked through.
"We should be good here. But before we leave…"
Draco removed her hand from his elbow, taking it with his other one. Then he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, tucking her gently into his side. "I think this is safer. Are you ready?"
Hermione swallowed. "Yes."
"Hold on tightly to me. I don't want you to be splinched."
Hermione smiled, shaking her head slightly. "You really are a worry wart."
Hermione braced herself for the inevitable and uncomfortable pull as her matter defied physical law and stretched out then back into proper form.
"Only when it comes to you," Draco said, then flicked his wand in a circular motion.
Hermione's stomach flipped and her knees went weak. The next instant they appeared in front of the hotel, and she stumbled into Draco.
"Careful," he said, not taking his hand off her as he guided her inside.
"I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of finding out which room you were in and checking you in." He held out a key to her, and she took it, pocketing it in her robe next to her secret scroll. "Allow me to escort you."
Hermione blushed. Then blushed harder at the little giggle that escaped her. "It's not like I broke my ankle. I just looked into a silly mirror."
"Humor me. Besides, my room is right across the way from yours."
"Oh."
In silence he led her to the lift, up three floors, then walked her down the hallway.
They finally broke apart at her hotel door.
Hermione reached into her cloak and took out her room key. She twisted the piece of metal in her fingers, not really sure what to do next. It wasn't that late. She knew she should further analyze the mirror's visions. That would be the smart thing to do. So why did she want to invite him inside?
"Thank you. You've been most …chivalrous."
Draco lips curved in a slow smile. "It was my pleasure."
Hermione pointed at her door. "I should probably…"
"Yes, I know you're dying to analyze your vision."
Hermione nodded, staring at her shoes. Hopefully, he wouldn't ask her what she saw.
"Eat something soon. The room service here is actually quite decent."
"I will."
"It's past dinnertime."
Hermione looked up, eyes wide. "Really, I'm fine. You needn't worry so much about me."
Draco shook his head. "I think you let your brain take over and neglect other parts of yourself, like your stomach for instance. It would explain why you're so tiny."
Hermione flushed, remembering how Vision Draco had said the same thing. "I promise I will order food as soon as I go in," she said in a choked voice.
"I'll hold you to that."
"Anything else?"
"Please stay safe."
"I know I've had a couple of mishaps since joining the Department of Mysteries, but you make me sound like I'm an utter klutz. I'll have you know that growing up, I was always the one watching out for Harry and Ron."
His teasing smile was gone now. "Then let me be the one who watches out for you."
Hermione's mouth dropped open.
Draco blinked, seemingly as surprised by his words as she was. "I know. The idea is ridiculous. Me protecting you. But I don't think I could stand it if you got hurt."
Draco looked like he might say more, but then took a step back. "You must be tired. I should let you rest." Draco cleared his throat. "I'm just right here," he pointed at the door directly across from hers.
Hermione nodded.
"If you need anything, let me know."
She felt his gaze at her back as she unlocked her room. Giving him one last smile, she entered and shut the door behind her, leaning against it. Eyes closed, she sank to the floor, her hand pressed to her heart.
To Be Continued