The Sirens of Meetings
Malfoy Manor
Tuesday 3 November 1998
Draco Malfoy sensed his cousin's nervousness. It was the day when they would meet Harry Potter …again. Draco watched as Hermione paced back in forth across the cellar floor. She was worrying her lip and her hands were burrowed in her thick curly hair. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose; he felt a headache coming on.
Fifteen minutes passed and suddenly the door opened. The way Draco imagined it was Harry running into the arms of Hermione. They would embrace and cry – followed by a horrific snogging session. His lips quirked at this thought. But none of that happened.
Harry Potter shuffled into the room before receiving a kick in the backside from Augustus Rookwood. Harry fell to the floor. He wore the same clothing from the Battle, however it seemed to have been cleaned repetitively due to its washed-out appearance. His hair was shaggy and dirty – very desperate for a good wash. Draco wouldn't have been surprised if he had lice. From Draco's view, he could see Harry's bloody knuckles were scabbed and nearly pus-filled.
Hermione gasped and glared daggers at Augustus. "You swine," she shouted. Dashing over to Harry, she went to help him up. "When the Dark Lord finds out this is how you treated him…"
"He'll do what?" Augustus mocked. He gave a dark smirk before leaving the three teenagers with each other.
Hermione turned to look at Harry. "Harry!" She grasped his head in her warm palms. "Harry! Look at me." Hermione pulled at him. When the boy looked up, both Draco and Hermione gasped in shock.
Harry's face was gaunt and pale. His green eyes that usually were bright with light, now seemed cloudy and murky. The stubble on his face was greasy and there was blood on his upper lip – ultimately crusting over the dark hairs. The scar upon his forehead was open and festered – a dark brown substance leaked from it.
"Draco," Hermione whimpered, looking at her cousin. "Go get your mother, please."
Her pleading made his heart clench. So he ran out of the cellar and up the staircase. "Mother!" He shouted. Draco felt like a child again. It reminded him of the time Hermione had fallen against the fountain in the gardens. She had scraped her knee and shin very badly. Draco had run all throughout the Manor looking for Narcissa.
Draco snapped out of his reverie and ran up the stairs to his mother's personal wing. He threw open the door to her private study. "Mother!" He gasped, quite out of breath.
Narcissa looked up from the book she was reading on her ottoman. Her face paled as she looked upon her only son. "Draco?" She sat up. "What is it?"
"Potter is here. He's badly wounded," Draco said wide-eyed. Draco turned around as his mother got up and retrieved a purple bag from her desk. He started walking, quickly followed by his mother.
When he returned to the cellar, with Narcissa in tow, he watched with sadness as Hermione swept Harry's bangs from his face. She was careful not to touch the scar. Narcissa swiftly walked past Draco and fell to the floor beside Hermione.
"Sweet Circe," Narcissa gasped, looking at Harry's wounds thoroughly. The older witch dug into the purple bag and pulled out a bottle. Unscrewing the cap, she sucked up some liquid in the connecting stopper and squirted the liquid carefully on Harry's knuckles. The boy winced in pain and then fell slack against Hermione's lap. Hermione held him tightly.
"Draco," Narcissa beckoned her son over. "There is a glass in the bag, fill it with water."
Draco reached for his mother's handbag as she continued pouring dittany into Harry's wounds. Placing his hand within the purse, he reached for the water goblet. Draco pulled his wand out from his robes and casted, "Aguamenti."
Slowly the goblet filled with water. Draco grabbed the glass and then tilted it towards Harry's lips. "Drink, Potter."
Harry sipped from the goblet with some streams of liquid running down his chin. His healed hands moved up to hold on to the glass – clasping on to Draco's warm hands.
"Drink slowly, Harry." Hermione swept his fallen bangs out of the way.
"This will sting," Narcissa said. Her hand hovered over Harry's forehead while the stopper made contact. Slowly the essence of dittany fell upon his scar. Harry sputtered out the water and gritted his teeth. Draco could only imagine the pain it must have been. Harry's eyes clenched shut as the dittany glazed across his eyes.
"It hurts," Harry moaned.
"I know," Narcissa smoothed. She touched the wound gently – only a touch a mother would have. "It will make you feel better though."
Harry gave a tight nod. A sweat broke out across his face. Beads of perspiration dripped down and swirled with the liquid.
Narcissa turned to Draco. "What did the Dark Lord have planned for today?"
To his shock, Harry answered. "Tom wanted them to explain how things go around here. The hierarchy," Harry wiped his face off with his dirty sleeve.
"Tom?" Narcissa whispered, not understanding who Harry was talking about.
"The Dark Lord," Hermione clarified.
"I reckon he wanted to humiliate Draco," Harry whispered. "Talking about how the family has fallen."
Narcissa nodded and reached inside her handbag for a cloth. She wiped Harry's face clean. Draco peered at the scar. It looked like how it was when they were school children. It was darker than the rest of his skin tone and quite shiny.
"It looks back to normal," Draco commented.
Hermione nodded in agreement.
Narcissa let out a soft sigh. "You three won't be participating in any sort of lesson today. Harry needs to clean up. We'll get you some fresh clothing as well." She wrinkled her nose. "This smells atrocious," she said, referring to the clothing he wore.
"But…" Harry tried to speak.
"No buts." Narcissa stood up. "I'll draw you a bath myself. Hermione help me get him to my bathroom." She looked at her son. "And please, get this boy some clean clothes."
Dolohov Château
Friday 13 November 1998
Adhara stirred the cauldron. She was too busy staring blankly at the dragon's egg on the worktable that she didn't hear the cellar door open with a bang. She did hear the swift footsteps behind her and felt the large hand gripping her hair from behind. Her head was yanked upright. The glass spoon fell from her hand as she winced in pain.
"Ah!" She let out a yelp.
"How dare you keep such a thing from me!" Adhara heard her husband whisper furiously in her ear.
Although the grip on her hair was harsh, Antonin was very gentle on how he pushed her against the table. This was a silent confession that he knew she was pregnant.
"I'm sorry, my love," she hissed out. When she saw Tanith try and intervene by springing from her perch on the egg, she quickly said, "Do nothing."
He pulled on her hair tighter. "Don't you even think of setting that blasted viper on me." Antonin pulled Adhara away from the table.
The witch heard loud footsteps come from the cellar doorway.
"Please, brother," Pierre whimpered.
Adhara felt him rush over to them and tried to wedge his way in between them – like a small child who had found his parents arguing and desperately wanted them to stop.
Antonin pushed his brother out of the way and then moved to drag Adhara back towards the cellar door. She slipped, toppling backwards against Antonin. Yet he didn't drop her; simply held her against him. His grip on her hair loosened.
Pierre had scrambled up off the floor and reached for his wand within his robes. He raised it – pointing it had the struggling couple. "Please, brother. Let her go," Pierre whined; desperately trying to get a grip of the turmoil. He pushed his hair back, scratching his scalp hurriedly. "Please, I'm sure she didn't mean it."
Tears had gathered at the corners of her eyes. Antonin turned her around and gripped her by shoulders. "Why didn't you tell me you were with child?" He shook her.
"I said let her go," Pierre took a step forward.
Antonin's blue eyes had darkened and were glaring at Pierre. "Don't talk to me." He turned towards his wife. "How could you keep this from me? How long did you think you could get away it? What if He sent you on a mission? What if you got hurt? What if the child got hurt?" He let her go and turned away to clench his fists. "Did you ever think of that for a second?" His nostrils flared and his tongue flicked out, as if testing the air. "This cellar smells fucking terrible. What if the fumes killed you?"
Adhara shivered violently. "How did you find out?"
"I ran into your brother in Knockturn Alley when I went to pick up that Turkish wizard's heart you requested for your breeding potion," he waved his hand in the direction of her cauldron. "Do you know what he said?"
She shook her head. Her eyes looked at the floor behind Antonin's feet. A box that she assumed contained the heart was on the floor near the door. She needed that thing to get her potion started. She needed it to hatch the egg.
Antonin stepped into her line of vision, capturing her attention. "Well, he congratulated me on the soon-to-be new edition to the family. Imagine my surprise when I found out my wife was pregnant." His voice had softened but it did have some malice to it.
"Antonin, I would have told you sooner." Adhara turned to Pierre, who looked a bit confused. "I just wanted us to be protected before…"
"Protected?" Antonin mumbled. "I'm the Lord of this House. I'm the one who will protect us."
"How can you when you're never here? Raising hell with the Dark Lord, that's why you do." Adhara spat.
With one flick of Antonin's wrist, he had knocked his brother out – to insure he would not intervene. He then advanced on Adhara, hand raised to strike her. In that moment, Adhara took in her husband's appearance. His skin was pale; his stubbly face had grown a dark beard for the coming winter months. His dark blue eyes were the colour of the English Channel. He was still gaunt, as if he didn't eat every day.
Adhara took a fearful step back before her head whipped to the side. The back of her husband's hand hit her square in the cheek. The flesh burned and she let out a gasp. Slowly she looked back at Antonin. Her brown eyes flared angrily. With enough force, Adhara slapped her husband in the face with her open palm.
Antonin looked surprised that his wife would hit him back. His lips slowly curved up in a dark smirk. Adhara suddenly found herself pinned to one of the walls of cellar.
Her husband grinned at her. "I knew there was a reason I wanted to marry you. Show me that passion again, witch."
A Pub, Somewhere in Wizarding Ireland, The Last Light Outpost
Saturday 21 November 1998
"Thanks for meeting me, Luna." Hermione looked at the young, blonde witch. She was glad that the girl had agreed to see her in private. She wondered what she had to say in order to leave the confinements of the underground city. "I was hoping I'd be able to talk to you before the snow gets even worse."
Luna shrugged nonchalantly. "No worries, Hermione. It's worth it." The girl paused. "Was there something urgent you wished to tell me?"
Hermione nodded vigorously. "Yes. We finally have Harry."
Luna's face brightened. "That's excellent, Hermione. I'll be sure to tell the others."
"I suppose," Hermione said distractedly. "Harry wasn't in the greatest form when he got to us."
The younger witch's gaze took in Hermione's appearance. "Well, what happened exactly?"
"He was wounded," Hermione looked down at her hands. She then lifted them to take a sip from her tankard of Butterbeer. Wiping the warm foam from her lips, she continued. "He was bloody, pus-filled, and all-around beaten. The Dark Lord hasn't been so kind to him."
"Can you protect him?" Luna asked with a serious tone.
It took a few moments for Hermione to answer. Could she? She never had to really protect anyone. Addie and Aunt Narcissa usually looked out for her – protected her from whatever mean monsters were out there. She licked her lips. Could she ultimately care for Harry the way he used to do for her while in school? Could their friendship be saved? She gave a tight nod – more to herself than to Luna. "Yes," she said out loud. "I can."
"Then there is no problem," Luna took this time to finish off her Butterbeer.
"I'm nervous about Harry," commented Hermione.
"What do you mean?" Luna asked after a long pause.
"He just doesn't seem the same," Hermione looked long and hard at her young friend. "After we bathed him and dressed him, he just sat there looking sullen."
Luna smiled. "He's been through a lot. Just give him some time."
Hermione gave a tight nod and dipped her pinky finger into the frothy drink. "That's not all."
Luna looked around before settling her gaze back upon Hermione.
"I don't know how to say this. I don't even know if I'm entirely okay with this either, Luna."
"Talking about it may help," Luna looked at Hermione inquisitively.
Hermione gave a long ragged sigh. She pulled her finger from the drink, sucked on it and then licked her lips nervously. "I'm starting to like this." Luna made a move to reply but Hermione kept talking. "This whole Dark Arts stuff is just so interesting. I've been spending a lot of time in my uncle's library and there are just so many books, Luna. You wouldn't believe it. Sometimes I sneak into my sister's old bedroom just to go through her Moste Potente Potions book. I just cannot stop reading it. I was never this obsessive with it when I was younger. But ever since she left," Hermione drew in a harsh breath. "I don't know how long I'll be able to last on this side of the fence, Luna."
Luna looked at Hermione with curious eyes. She gave a small smile. "Hermione, sometimes in order to survive one must accept their fate; that way it's in your control."
Malfoy Manor
Sunday 22 November 1998
"I'll do it," Hermione said after storming into her brother's room early in the morning. She hadn't showered or even thrown on her silk robe. Her light pink dressing gown was the only thing she wore.
Arcturus shielded his eyes as she opened the drapes in his room. He tried to bury himself into the pillows. "Hermione, it's too early to have this discussion."
Hermione huffed, turning to the bed and pulling back the sheets. "Get out of bed, brother. I said, I'll do it."
"Do what exactly?" Arcturus asked before readjusting his briefs so his sister didn't see anything …private.
"You've been harping on this all week. I think I've plucked up enough courage to say yes. I'll go to our ancestral home with you," Hermione said before tugging on his foot to get him up.
Instantly, Arcturus propped up on his elbows to look at her. "You're serious about this? You want to go to Lestrange Château?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, I just had a wake-up call. I might as well accept this," she made a flourish-like movement with her hand. "So, get up so we can go."
Arcturus bit his lip. "We can't go today. We'll have to wait. Adhara's coming with us."
"She is?" Hermione asked excitedly. "When?"
"She hasn't decided a date; I mean if she ever will. I seem to have gotten her in trouble with Antonin," Arcturus said.
Hermione's eyebrows furrowed. "How?"
"She's pregnant and apparently didn't tell her husband," Arcturus smirked before getting out of bed.
"She's what?" Hermione asked, flabbergasted.
"You didn't know?" Arcturus turned to look at his youngest sister. "She didn't write you."
Hermione shook her head no.
"Well, I guess she was keeping it a secret from everyone." Arcturus then turned to step into his pajama bottoms that were on the floor. "Her letter is on the desk. I'm surprised she didn't send me a Howler."
Arcturus watched as his sister dashed over to the desk and picked up a tan piece of parchment.
"Arcturus, you horrid fool," Hermione read the note out loud. "I can't believe you would just open your mouth to him like that. It took me forever to get Antonin to stop yelling and pressing me up against everything." Hermione blanched.
"Yes, I know. It's bad enough that we know our parent's sex life; now we know our sister's as well." Arcturus mocked.
Yet Hermione continued, ignoring her brother. "At least he's happy about the pregnancy. However, he does hover around often when I work on my potions – which is slightly annoying. He's told the Dark Lord so expect Mother and Father to know soon." Hermione nearly cried at this. It just made it that more real. "But don't fret, I agree with you. Visiting our old ancestral home would be, dare I say, nice. I haven't been there for so long. Do you think Hermione will remember it? She was so young when—" Hermione turned to the other page. "—Mum and Dad went to prison. I'm sad, Arcturus. I don't want our family living like this." Hermione's tears fell. Her sister was still thinking about them. "I should stop writing, I'm rambling now and I have potions to tend to. I'll see you and Hermione during the first week of December. I'll get a date from Antonin for when I can see you. Speak to you soon. Love, Addie."
Malfoy Manor
Sunday 22 November 1998
Draco Malfoy did not understand why his family was so excited. When he walked into the dining hall, he was nearly taken aback on how cheerful it was. His aunt, Bellatrix, danced wildly around the room, while his uncle Rodolphus, Rabastan, and his father embraced – downing shots of Firewhiskey every now and again. Draco's mother looked happy for once in a long time. Her face was clean and fresh with no traces of tear tracks.
The only people in the room that looked unhappy were his cousins, Arcturus and Hermione. Arcturus looked like he had the last piece of pie stolen from him at Christmas. Hermione looked lost, as if her parents dumped her in a park and left. Yet Harry's expression was the most startling. He looked clean-shaven and his eyes were back to their bright green colour. His face looked a tad bit fuller and the black suit he wore illuminated how pale he really was. Harry's facial expression looked …interested. As if he liked hearing whatever had happened.
"What's going on?" Draco asked.
All eyes turned to him. Yet he stared at Hermione. Her face was sad.
"Adhara is with child, Draco. Isn't it wonderful?" His mother said from her seat. Her teeth glimmered as she smiled.
Draco's eyes grew wide; he could almost feel his pupils dilate. Was this real? Shouldn't Hermione be celebrating that her sister was pregnant? Shouldn't she be happy for her? Hermione's face looked glazed over.
"Hermione…" he mouthed but didn't vocalize.
She gave a small tentative smile. That's what he loved. Her smiles. Draco knew for some time now that he was infatuated with his cousin. In time, it grew to be love – more than platonic emotions. He wasn't afraid to admit that. He just didn't know how to explain it to her. He knew that she knew marriage to cousins was normal behavior for Purebloods; but did she accept it? Draco took a few steps closer, but stopped he felt Harry's gaze on him. By Harry's facial expression, Draco new the-Boy-Who-Lived understood what he was thinking.
Author's Notes: I've finally created the site for this fanfiction. I'll post it in the links area in my profile. This is the address: wizardschess(dot)webs(com)
There you will find: a photos section of who plays who, locations, and other things. Terminology is located in the glossary tab. There's also information on the Pureblood houses; main, secondary, and minor characters; cast list and a page of how I developed the potion. As each chapter reveals a new ingredient, you will be able to see it there as well. Some pages are still in development but will be finished by the end of September 2011.
Please review. I would love feedback.
-Rosie