Chapter 6 - Orphaned
Disclaimer – I don't own any of the recognisable characters in this story. I only own Maria and Chantelle so far! :P
Last Chapter - Later on that night, Draco was not sure what made him do what he was about to. Even at that very moment, Draco was confused.
Instinct, he told himself, instinct, and he leant over and kissed her.
Hermione felt a tremor shudder her whole body the moment his lips crashed on hers. Though 'crashed' wasn't a word one could really use to describe it. It felt so normal – so natural – to her that for a moment, Hermione was shocked - not just at what was happening, but at the feeling she was getting from it.
Her eyes were wide, as though she could not believe what was happening; she couldn't believe what was happening.
Draco Malfoy is kissing me…Hermione could think of a million more things wrong with this situation than right. Or at least she was sure she could. But at that moment Hermione could not think of a single flaw. Her eyes fluttered closed as she gently responded to his kiss. She felt Draco's hand land on her thigh and a pang of discomfort shoot through her. But these emotions were quickly erased as she found herself lost in his kiss.
But then suddenly that feeling shattered and reality came flying back, like moths to a flame. One of her hands flew up to his chest and she broke them hastily apart. Her head was again bowed as though she were ashamed to look at him.
"Hermione," Draco said. "Hermione?"
He raised a hand and lifted her chin up so she was looking up at him, but Hermione slapped his hand away, and when he tried to come back, she slapped him again. When his hand once again reached for her, Hermione sent a slap straight across his face. Draco blinked a few times and shook his head slightly, as though coming out of some kind of trance. A bright red hand mark was appearing on the side of his face.
"Is that why I'm here then?!" Hermione exclaimed furiously, fiercely wiping the tears from her red-tinged cheeks. The dazed look on Draco's face was still apparent, and he threw her a perplexed look.
"What?"
"Is this why I'm here?!" Hermione repeated, her voice rising in hysteria. "To be your toy? To entertain you?!" Hermione threw a pillow at him in anger and disgust. Draco's seeker reflexes allowed him to catch it with ease, but Hermione's sudden fury startled him. He grew suddenly infuriated himself.
How dare she say that?! It was hardly a one-sided thing!!!
"No, I-"
Without warning a door loudly slammed shut, abruptly ending Draco's exclamation. Both his and Hermione's heads snapped up and their eyes landed on the old wooden armoire by the door. After exchanging puzzled glances, Draco got up, pillow still in hand and approached the wardrobe. Slowly his hand reached out for the ornate handle and he gripped it, his mind spieling through what could possibly be in there. He threw the door open.
At first glance it appeared that the armoire was quite ordinary and how it should be, with a few dresses and coats hanging from the wooden railing. But as both Draco and Hermione's eyes flickered downwards, they managed to catch a glimpse of a green, ragged creature before it snapped its stubby fingers together. With a crack of a whip it was gone. It took Draco a moment to realise what this meant. But as soon as it did, something cracked inside him and fury poured through his veins. He clenched his fists and, without a word to Hermione, who was sitting stunned on the bed, stormed noisily our of the room.
The door slammed with a bang! behind him and before Hermione could stop herself, she screamed angrily out after him, "It was only a bloody House Elf!!" Of course Draco, who was by now almost a corridors length away, didn't hear her, but it made Hermione feel a little better. Hermione threw herself back to lay on the bed in a huff.
Draco bounded down the corridor, eyes narrowed and livid, his fists clenched tightly into little balls. When he made it to the dining room he carelessly threw open the doors and stormed inside.
"Father?!" He yelled, but a second later realised Lucius wasn't there. He raced over to one of the maids who was innocently clearing the table.
"Where is he?" Draco shouted. "My father, where the hell is he?!"
I-I… he-he… he's-" The poor girl stuttered helplessly.
Draco grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, looked her directly in her pale blue eyes and in a deadly whisper hissed, "If you don't spit it out right now, you'll lose a lot more than your job." The maids eyes widened in terror.
"H-he's in the Sitting Room!" She shrieked and dashed out of the room in tears, abandoning the remaining plates and cutlery on the table. Draco almost laughed at her fear but was so angry he felt he could not even muster a smile. Glaring venomously at the rest of the maids – who all jumped back in fear – he quickly exited the room through a different door.
Once in the corridor, Draco walked at a fast pace to the Sitting Room, feeling all the anger he had just vented out on the maid rushing back. As soon as he reached the door he fiercely pushed it open.
"Father!" Draco entered the room and upon spotting Lucius perched on a chair, the Daily Prophet in his lap, slammed the door loudly behind him. Lucius's eyes flicked up to meet his son's and he cocked a questioning eyebrow.
"Now Draco, was that really necessary?" Lucius asked as if it were such a bother.
Draco ignored the question, his own fury flooding back to him.
"You had a House Elf spy on me!" Draco exclaimed accusingly. Lucius's eyebrow remained raised, but a wry, sarcastic smile crept onto his face.
"Why on Earth would I do that?"
Draco, again, completely ignored his father.
"And not only that, you got it to curse me!!" The epitome of shame crossed over Draco's features. "Cursed, by a House Elf!"
"Curse you? Draco, what is this nonsense?" Lucius sounded sincere, but his expression could not keep up that same veracity.
"I know you did it, father!" Draco spat. "And I know what your up to!"
"What am I up to?" Lucius asked in a bored voice, still managing to look down on him although he was sitting down and Draco was a good nine inches above him.
"Do I really have to say it aloud? I was sure it was quite painstakingly obvious!"
Lucius sighed in a defeated tone and began, "The House Elf was for your own protection-"
"What?! Do you really think Granger is going to miraculously find a weapon of any threat to me, and then try to kill me with it?!" Draco exclaimed incredulously.
"They always get desperate when trying to escape…" Lucius said in a low tone, as though he were the voice of experience, and he went back to his newspaper.
"And besides, I didn't see this oh so protective House Elf of yours protecting me in any way what-so-ever. All I noticed was it cursing me!! And I definitely felt those effects," Draco said coldly, not able to believe that his father could force him to endure such degradation.
"The House Elf would not curse you unless under my command," Lucius informed sternly.
"Why do you think I'm here instead of off punishing him?" Draco asked coolly. Lucius shot him an icy look.
"Don't get smart with me boy. You know what has to be done." Draco broke his fathers gaze. "Don't look away from me Draco. You may not be happy with the arrangements but it has to be done.
"But why?" Draco complained.
"Don't be ignorant boy, now is not the time." Lucius glanced up at the old grandfather clock on the opposing wall. "The time is in fact eleven-thirty and I have some business to attend to."
"Business with Voldemort," Draco said bitterly, a little too loudly than he had intended. Lucius rose from his seat in an instant, anger flashing in his eyes.
"Don't speak of what you don't know, Draco," Lucius said in his cold, silky voice, now towering over his son. "It'll get you into trouble one day." Draco was not intimidated by this warning.
"Here," Lucius said, shoving the newspaper at Draco's chest. "I'm sure there's something in here that might be of interest to her."
Before even glancing down at it, Draco asked, "When are we going to tell her about-"
"This should make it easier," Lucius explained, curtly nodding his head at the newspaper in Draco's hands. Draco unfolded it and took one glance at the front page; the headline told him all he needed to know.
"Easier? You think this is going to make things easier?! If anything, this is going to make things worse!" Draco declared incredulously. Lucius gave his son a pointed look as he returned to his seat.
"Draco, if she learns about that first, then informing her of why she is here should surely be easier, should it not?" Lucius enquired. Draco didn't answer.
"You are to tell her the first part tonight," Lucius ordered. "Then we will allow her a few days grieving period. Then – and only then – will you tell her the second part. The third bit, you'll leave to me." Though unhappy with the arrangement, Draco couldn't do a thing to change his fathers mind and he knew it. He sighed before giving his father a fake smile.
"Okay." That was all Draco said, and he slowly turned around and headed back towards the door.
"Oh and by the way, Dooby told me that Granger was the one to break it off earlier. Not losing your touch, are you boy?" Lucius teased, taking a sip out of his brandy glass. Draco, who now had his back facing his father, stopped in his tracks, fuming silently for a moment as his eyes narrowed in anger. He exhaled deeply before continuing walking, his only response being the glass that shattered in his fathers hand, a second before he had leaned in to sip it. A look of utter surprise crossed Lucius's face as Draco slammed the door behind him.
Though he did not have the pleasure of witnessing his fathers shocked expression, Draco felt like he had just done something he had desired to do for a long time. Draco had grown less and less fond of his father over the past two years. Ever since his father had begun pressuring him to join forces with Voldemort…
Draco subconsciously touched his forearm. He'd had many nightmares of becoming a Death Eater, some of them so horrifying that Draco could not return to sleep that night. As if the day was not enough, with Voldemort visiting the Manor almost every day. Why too did his sleep have to be purged with the same growing terror?
Draco forced these thoughts out of his head as he tucked the newspaper under his arm and advanced down the corridor, up a flight of stairs and through a secret passage way before turning left. A few more twists and turns later, Draco was standing outside the door to Hermione's new room. He put an ear to the door, listening for any sounds of movement. Upon hearing nothing but silence, Draco gently knocked on the wooden door. But still there was no answer, except the growing silence that was beginning to get on Draco's nerves.
So, hoping that Hermione wasn't dressing – for no other reason but that he would prefer not to get strangled - Draco opened the door and stepped inside. For a moment, as Draco gently closed the door behind him, Draco thought that Hermione may have escaped, as he remembered his foolishness of leaving the door unlocked.
But Hermione was in there, sprawled on the bed, her brown curls spilling out in a fountain around her. Her head was laying on one of the many soft cushions spread out all over the bed. The silk duvet was only covering the bottom half of her, leaving her top half exposed. Her green dinner dress, which she had not removed, was visible from her waist up. Her eyes were closed and her breathing even, the slow rise and fall of her chest showing she was in a deep sleep.
He looked at her almost sympathetically and considered breaking the news to her tomorrow; she looked so peaceful just lying here fast asleep on the silken bed sheets. He sat down beside her, watching her sleeping figure, the Daily Prophet in his lap. Just as he was about to put the newspaper under the bed, deciding on postponing his message, he remembered how she had accused him of bringing her here to be his toy. The anger suddenly rushed back to Draco.
How could she accuse me of that?! It wasn't my choice to bring her here!
So Draco, in a bitter and immature manner, threw the newspaper at her. Hermione groaned, a frown appearing on her face and rolled over, the newspaper sliding off her shoulder onto the bed. Draco scooped up the newspaper and hit her – not too hard! – on her leg until she shot up and grabbed his wrist.
"I was sleeping," Hermione stated the obvious, glaring at him so menacingly that Draco thought she really was going to strangle him. But Draco, as always, was not fearful.
"I know," Draco said, flashing his trademark smirk at her.
"Then why did you wake me?" Hermione snapped.
"If you let me have my wrist back, I'll gladly tell you." Hermione released his wrist in an instant and blushed, not realising that she had still been holding him. Draco delicately shook his wrists, as though trying to shake off water after washing his hands, a look of distaste on his face.
"Well?" Hermione prompted, trying not to get angry at him. "What did you want me for?" Draco pretended to ponder this for a moment, earning him another glare from Hermione.
"There's something in here I think you might want to read," Draco said simply and passed her – a little too roughly – the Daily Prophet.
"Well, unless it's an eight-page report about the whole of your family being sentenced to lifetime imprisonment in Azkaban-" However, Hermione did not continue with her spiel on how much she hated Draco and his family. She couldn't. Not with what she was looking at right now. Her mouth gaped open, her eyes widened and her skin seemed to turn quite a few shades paler in about a millisecond. Tears filled those big chocolate brown eyes faster than the Nile and began cascading down her face.
Time seemed to stop right there, freezing her in a time where all her worst fears became true and her darkest horrors turned into reality. She felt herself break inside and shatter into a million tiny little pieces. A sob escaped her lips and she didn't have the strength the stop it. Her eyes were focused on the headline, that was printed in big bold letters. Seven simple words that would change her life forever:
"Death Eater's Show No Mercy To Grangers"
Placed directly underneath was a picture of her parents together on their Honeymoon. Hermione's mum was laughing as her father planted a kiss on her cheek. It was a still, ordinary Muggle photo, but Hermione could still see the joy in their eyes, the happiness in their faces-
She let out another heart wrenching sob. Underneath the photograph was a subtitle:
"Francis and Marie Granger on their honeymoon, just 11 months before their deaths."
Hermione's tear-filled eyes continued down the page as she read the article.
"Professional Muggle dentists, Francis and Marie Granger were yesterday murdered at the hands of several Death Eaters. It was approximately two in the afternoon when the Granger's Dentistry was swarmed with Voldemort's clan of hooded monsters.
"I was receiving a filling with suddenly the door burst open. I couldn't see the Death Eater but he yelled out some gibberish and a flash of green light later, Dr. Granger was sprawled on the floor; dead," a Muggle witness claims.
"I heard screaming from the room next to me and later found out Dr. Grangers wife had suffered the same fate."
After thorough questioning, the Muggle had a strong memory charm placed upon him.
Francis and Anne Granger went to their graves suffering. Just days before their deaths their only daughter Hermione, 16, was reported missing from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Miss Granger's whereabouts are still uncertain but the Ministry is doing all it can to find the now orphaned child."
Hermione tore her eyes away from the newspaper, unable to continue with the article. There was another report inside, but Hermione did not open up to page five. Instead she fixed an agonised and horrified look on Draco. Tears were flooding down her face in a constant flow now and she was trembling. Now just out of the shock, Draco sensed, but of fear also.
Fear?
Draco found himself giving her a sympathetic look and suddenly – though every Malfoy instinct kept telling him otherwise – felt horrible for revealing it to her. The sadness and misery written all over her face, the broken glint in her eyes…
"You killed them, didn't you," Hermione spoke in a deathly whisper – her voice way to calm for the situation – her eyes not once leaving his. Draco, quickly coming out of his reverie, looked taken aback.
"What?! Me, no, I-"
"You did!! You did!! You killed them, I know you did!!" Hermione screamed hysterically and lunged at Draco. She landed on top of him on her bed and began frantically pulling at the sleeve of his right arm.
"No, don't!" But before Draco could finish his cry, Hermione had managed to force the sleeve up above his elbow. A horrible feeling dropped in the pit of Draco's stomach. He didn't want her to find out now. Now was way to early. But right now, it seemed Draco didn't have much of a choice anymore. Hermione's frantic tugging ceased as her eyes landed on his forearm. To his fair, pale and bare forearm. Hermione's traumatised expression turned to one of shock.
"Where is it?!" Hermione demanded, unable to keep the tremor from her voice. She grabbed the other arm and this time Draco felt no point in resisting. Again, his forearm was bare. Draco took a breath and deeply exhaled.
"I don't have one," Draco said in a defeated tone. Hermione looked at him in utter disbelief.
"But you're a Death Eater, you have to have one!!" Hermione cried deliriously, the tears welling up in her eyes again. Draco took advantage of her emotional and off-guard state and flipped her over onto her back, pinning her arms beside her. To Draco it was an act of attempting to calm down a hysterical bookworm. To Hermione, in the state that she was in… well, let's not go into explicit details.
"Hate to break it to you Granger, but I'm not. You just saw that for yourself." Hermione began screaming, tensing her whole body as she tried to haul Draco off her. But Draco was much, much stronger and before long Hermione had returned to a crying heap, sobbing hysterically into Draco's robe.
An almost pained expression flashed across Draco's features. He carefully got off her and gently lifted her, placing her head on the pillows. Hermione didn't resist or try to throttle him this time; the only thing she had enough strength for was to cry. After covering her with the green silk duvet, Draco sat back down on the side of the bed.
A terrible pain struck Hermione's heart as image after image of her parents flashed before her eyes. Choking back a sob, it suddenly kicked in that they were dead. Gone. Never coming back. Hermione would never again be able to talk to them or hug them or tell them how much she loved them…
She let out another sob and buried her face into the pillow, her cries racking her entire body. Draco looked over at her, feeling more and more uncomfortable with everyone of Hermione's continuing sobs. He left like he shouldn't be here. She deserved to be alone to grieve. But he also felt guilty – very guilty. Yet at the same time, on top of all that, he was fighting the urge to comfort her, to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be alright.
That thought, however, suddenly flew straight out of Draco's head. He wasn't going to lie to her. Things weren't going to get better. They were going to get worse; much, much worse. He took the thoughts to be a result of the House Elf's earlier curse and quickly dismissed it.
Suddenly, Hermione's sobs ceased and the only noise that filled the room was silence. A dawning realisation hit her and a sickening feeling formed in the pit of her stomach as she remembered a conversation she had had with Draco, and his well thought out response.
"Are you a Death Eater?" Hermione asked him quietly, her eyes flickering over to his covered forearm. He uncomfortably shifted his arm, making sure it was completely covered and then hid it out of her sight. He then shot her a look. She tried to read it for any sign of emotion, but it was completely impassive.
"Granger, are you a Mudblood?" Draco asked her in the same tone she had used on him. "Because I'm sure you'll end up with the same answer."
Hermione gasped and suddenly sat up and turned around to face Draco, who was staring at her, a little bewildered.
"My parents, they weren't Muggles, were they?" Hermione asked him softly, glancing back down at the newspaper lying a few feet away.
"No, they weren't," Draco said sincerely his gaze following hers.
Hermione shot him a puzzled look and, pointing to the paper said, "But then-?"
"They're not your parents."
A/N - Yet another cliff hanger. Terribly sorry to leave you there but cliffies have become quite a tradition for this story!! I would like to thank all my reviewers for all your positive feedback and constructive criticism - I'm loving it! Please keep it coming. I promise not to leave you hanging for too long!!
Marauders Gal