Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Harry Potter, except those that clearly aren't from J.K. Rowling's stories. And since I expect anyone reading this by now to be a complete HP aficionado, I'm sure you'll know which ones they are.
I'm back!
So you may be wondering why I've been gone so long. The reason is…[drum roll, please]…I was writing a book! It's called Robin: Lady of Legend, and it retells the tale of Robin Hood with one major twist — Robin Hood is a woman!
I'm super-excited that it's finally been published. You should be super-excited, too, because now I can finally return my attention to this fan-fic.
Happy Reading!
(P.S. If you're interested in checking out my book, you can find it on your country's Amazon site. Until then, enjoy this update!)
Chapter 20 — Return to Hogwarts
"I hate to think of how many memories the Ministry will have to modify," Hermione mused as she tilted her face up to the sun.
"Considering that the Ministry is full of Death Eaters, they might not even bother. A dragon soaring over England is a boon for them — fear and panic among Muggles, and all that."
Draco stretched luxuriously out upon the sand, his clothes nearly dry after his tumble off the dragon's back and into the lake. He could have magicked himself dry, he supposed, but both he and Hermione had been so exhausted upon swimming to shore that they had crawled onto the sand and immediately fallen asleep. They had not awakened until late that afternoon, by which time their clothes had been almost dry anyway, so it had seemed pointless to use magic to finish the job.
"Do you think that your aunt recognized us?"
"I'm pretty sure she didn't. If I'm wrong, we'll know soon enough."
Hermione bit her lip. "Can she hurt us?"
"Not while we're at Hogwarts. At least, I don't think she can."
"That's reassuring."
"It should be. There's no place safer than Hogwarts."
Hermione started. Draco's words echoed strangely in her head, as though she had heard them once before. Somehow, she felt comforted.
"But how did she know we were there?"
"When you touched the cup and activated that spell, it must have alerted her to our presence. It was my fault, I should have known better."
"You can't blame yourself," Hermione reassured him, but it was clear from Draco's expression that he did. She hesitated for a second. "Can I touch it?"
"The cup? Or are you referring to the other thing you were touching in the vault, because if you are, my answer is a definite yes…"
"The cup, you dolt. Can I touch it?"
"The spell on it is only active within the confines of the vault. The cup can't hurt you here."
"Considering that it hosts a piece of Voldemort's soul, I'm not so sure it can't," Hermione retorted, but she reached out and accepted the Horcrux from Draco.
The cup felt cold in her hands and seemed to pulsate against her skin, the metal gleaming wickedly in the evening sun like a dragon's eye.
"The Cup of Truth," Draco muttered, looking at the Horcrux with an unidentifiable expression on his face, "makes all its contents bitter."
"What do you mean by that?"
But Draco didn't answer and instead turned away, his eyes closing off and concealing something from her for the first time in months. Hermione wanted to press him on the matter, but she restrained herself. She would ask again later, when they weren't both still so scared.
"We should be getting back," she murmured.
Without speaking, Draco pushed himself to his feet and pulled something out from inside his robes.
"Accio broomstick," he whispered, and stared into the sunset until a small black speck appeared in the sky, growing gradually closer until it swooped down to hover in the air a few feet in front of Draco. It was an old housewife's broomstick, knobby and slow and in no way comparable to his Nimbus. With a grim look at the broom, Draco climbed on; Hermione followed suit.
This time when she wrapped her arms around Draco's stomach, Hermione couldn't suppress a shiver. Every muscle in Draco's body was taut, and he seemed to quiver in her arms like a violin string.
"Are you all right?" she asked hesitantly.
"I will be," he told her. "For now, just hold me tight."
With a mighty push of his legs, Draco shot the broomstick into the sky, doing his best to blame the chill he suddenly felt on the wind brushing against his clothes.
-:-+-:-+-:-+-:-
It was almost midnight when they arrived at the castle. Ducking down between the darkened turrets, Draco weaved his broomstick through an open window on the eighth floor, startling Sir Cadogan from his rest.
"What's this? What's this!" the knight grumped, scrambling to his feet with the help of his sword. "How dare you disturb my slumber, you unprincipled knaves! I challenge you to a due—" His tirade was cut short by a tremendous yawn, and Hermione seized the opportunity to cast a spell.
"Confundo!" she ensorcelled. Sir Cadogan gazed around in confusion for a moment before sinking back down onto the ground by his sleeping horse.
"Nighty-night," Hermione offered with a smile. "And good-night to you, too." She gave Draco a kiss on the cheek and began to descend the steps.
"Wait," Draco called, halting her. "Suppose my aunt does know we were the ones who stole the Horcrux. There's no telling what she might do. We should destroy it while we still have the chance."
"But how?" Hermione asked, turning to face him. "I don't know how to blast something into nothingness, like McGonagall did to the Room of Requirement."
Draco hesitated. "You told me once that Potter destroyed Riddle's diary with a basilisk fang. Is the basilisk still down in the Chamber?"
"Yes…yes it is!" Hermione exclaimed, beginning to grow excited. "Come on!"
She tugged Draco down the stairs, almost making him trip over his broomstick as she led him to the first floor.
Upon entering the hallway, they both instinctively fell silent and slowed their pace. The corridor was dark, with only the light of the moon filtering through the occasional window to illuminate the walk space. The sound of their footsteps seemed to echo loudly through the hall, and Draco had to stop himself from peering over his shoulder to look for Mrs. Norris.
"Here we are," Hermione whispered, and Draco looked up to find himself standing outside the one place he had never wanted to return to — Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
"Here?" he gulped. Hermione opened the door, and he reluctantly followed her inside.
The white marble floor was stainless, as though it had never been covered with blood — his blood — as if last year had never happened at all….
"You're back," a high, girlish voice spoke up suddenly, shocked. "I had hoped you had died. I mean, not died died, but it would have been nice to have had some company. You understand."
"Hello, Myrtle. It's nice to see you again," Draco greeted her uncomfortably. Myrtle's eyes narrowed.
"Why are you walking around with her?" she asked, glaring at Hermione in accusation.
"Well, Hermione is my girlfriend—"
"You have a girlfriend?" Large tears welled up in Myrtle's eyes, and fell to splash invisibly upon the floor. "I might have known!" With a loud wail, Moaning Myrtle launched herself into the nearest toilet and hid there, sobbing noisily.
"Smooth," Hermione remarked, completely unperturbed. She walked forward until she was facing a sink, the one that Moaning Myrtle had told him never worked.
"There," she pointed. Draco followed her finger to the snake-like symbol etched onto one of the taps.
"Oh no!" Disappointment flooded Hermione's face. "I just thought of something — neither of us speaks Parseltongue! We can't get in!"
"Relax," Draco said. "I may not speak it, but I can mimic it."
"You can? That's right, you did it once before…I remember now! But how do you know the right words?"
"When you hang around Voldemort, you pick up a few things. Ssshaarshhhe."
With a loud rumble, the sink sank into the floor, revealing a cavernous pit.
"After you," Draco said with a bow. Hermione gave him a small, sarcastic shove.
"You're such a gentleman."
She lowered herself to the ground and prepared to slide into the tunnel.
"Hold on a moment!" Draco cried, "I have a better idea."
A few minutes later, the two of them flew into the large stone atrium that was Salazar Slytherin's secret lair.
"Wow," they both gasped, seeing for the first time the enormous stone statue of the Hogwarts founder and the decaying remains of the mile-long snake. Draco drifted down toward the basilisk's head where bone-white teeth protruded from its jaw like the life-seeking fangs of a giant piranha.
Hermione hopped down from the broomstick, her skirt catching for a moment on one of its knobs. Draco unlatched the cloth, holding onto it for a second longer than was truly necessary, a small smirk playing upon his lips.
Hermione rolled her eyes at him, blushing slightly. "Really, Draco. Here?"
"So says the girl who wanted to make out in the vault of Bellatrix Lestrange."
Hermione blushed again and walked over to the decaying skeleton. Being careful not to touch the tips of any of its teeth, she broke off one long, curved fang.
"Now what?" Draco asked.
"Give me the Horcrux."
He watched as she set it on the ground and readied the fang over the cup. Her hand was trembling.
"Here," he said. "Let me help."
Wrapping one arm around her shoulder, Draco covered her hand with his own. Together, they plunged the fang into the metal cup.
A sound like a thousand screaming banshees rent the air and the cup began to writhe, jangling against the floor like a living thing. Draco plunged the fang into the cup again and smoke poured out of it, making them choke and their eyes burn.
"Servant!" the banshee voices yelled. "How dare you betray me! You will pay with your life, with your soul—"
Draco and Hermione plunged the fang into the cup one last time, and it shattered. A force like a hot desert wind swept through them, and they couldn't breathe as harsh claws seized at their lungs, strangling them with a searing heat so intense they thought for sure they would burn alive…and then it was gone. Just like that. Gone.
"Whew," Draco gasped. "That was…something."
Hermione burst into sobs and kissed him once, hard on the mouth, before burying her face in his shirt. Eventually, her shudders stopped.
"Feeling better?"
"Much." Hermione attempted a brave smile, and Draco kissed her again, gently, before helping her to her feet.
Once outside of the chamber, a sense of euphoria began to overtake them as they walked through the Hogwarts halls.
"We did it!" Draco enthused, keeping his voice low. "We actually destroyed a Horcrux!"
"You were terrific," Hermione said, smiling just as broadly.
"Quiet!" one of the portraits snapped. "Don't you know we're trying to sleep?"
-:-+-:-+-:-+-:-
Before they knew it, they had arrived at the Gryffindor common room.
"Well, goodnight," Hermione said, wrapping her arms around Draco one last time. Turning to the picture of the Fat Lady, she gently rapped on the frame.
"Hmm, what? What is it?" the Fat Lady demanded grumpily. "What's the password?"
"Fidelus Siempres."
"Incorrect."
"What?"
"That's incorrect. Do you know the proper password?"
"But that is the password! I used it just last night."
"Last night it was the password. Tonight it is not. Do you know the proper password or not?"
"I don't."
The Fat Lady glared at her then and deliberately shut her eyes, muttering about students who had the ill-manners to make her wake up for no reason.
"What do I do now?" Hermione asked, turning to Draco in confused distress.
"You could always sleep in the hall," he couldn't resist teasing.
She shuddered. "What if a teacher walks by? Think of all the points I would lose for Gryffindor! Oh, what to do, what to do?"
"Relax!" Draco remarked, taken aback. "Surely you know I could just fly you to your window." Relief broke out over Hermione's face. "Or…"
"Or?" she asked.
He gave her what he hoped was a light grin, though he felt terribly self-conscious. "Or you could spend the night with me."
Hermione was silent.
He held out his broom. "Come on," he said, "I'll take you to your window."
"No."
"No?"
"No. I want to stay with you."
Now it was his turn to fall silent.
"I'm not asking anything of you — you know that, right?" he spoke up at last. "If you come, I promise no expectations will come along with you."
She gave him a shy smile. "I know that. That's why I said yes."
"Then let's go," he declared with more confidence than he felt, and taking her arm in his, led her away from Gryffindor Tower.
-:-+-:-+-:-+-:-
"Here," Draco murmured, throwing the invisibility cloak over Hermione as they neared the Syltherin common room. "I don't think anyone will be awake, but it never hurts to be cautious. Hold onto my shoulder."
Obediently, Hermione place one hand upon his bicep, and he covered her hand with his own for a moment before striding forward once again. When they reached the blank wall that marked the entrance to the Slytherin common room, he stretched forth his hand and laid it upon the stone. Instantly, the wall opened.
"No password?" Hermione queried softly.
"It recognizes me by my pulse," he whispered back. Hermione shook her head at the extent of Salazar Slytherin's fixation with Blood.
True to Draco's prediction, the common room was deserted. Hermione hadn't paid too much attention to it the last time she had been inside — she'd been far too concerned with rescuing Harry to pay much attention to her surroundings. Now she gazed around, curious.
It was beautiful in a strange, slightly cold way. The fireplace looked as though it were made of pure silver, of a grade high enough that it would never tarnish. The candelabra and torch brackets were also of silver, and the candles were a bone-white coloration, rather than the pleasant yellow tallow that was used so prevalently in Gryffindor Tower. The chairs were lined with dark green velvet, and the tables were made of blackwood. The floor was marble, highly polished. Everything looked new and pristine. There were no half-empty bottles of Butterbeer here, no Canary Cream wrappers or crumpled up pages of homework. It was hard to believe that an entire dormitory-worth of students used and shared this one common room.
"Are you coming?" Draco asked, turning to look where he thought she was; Hermione had taken her hand from his shoulder, and as a result he was staring in the wrong direction.
"Sorry," she apologized, and hastened back to his side. But when they reached Draco's room and he opened the door for her, Hermione couldn't resist teasing him just a little, and asked in his ear: "Are you sure that I don't have to sign up first?"
Draco felt the hairs on his neck rise at her invisible, breathy whisper, and at the memory of the last time they had been in his room. "I think I can fit you in," he murmured back.
"You'd better."
Hermione let the invisibility cloak fall to the floor as Draco shut the door. Harry, who had been curled up sleeping on the bed, gave an irritated yawn at their arrival.
"Hello to you, too," Draco grumbled. "This is my room after all, you little feline."
Harry just stuck his small, pink tongue out at him, and proceeded to wash himself.
Hermione felt a wave of panic suddenly seize her. It had been so easy for her to accept Draco's invitation, but now that she was here, what was she supposed to do? Climb into his bed? Wait for him? What if he wanted to change? And she didn't have any pajamas….
Draco looked just as awkward as she did, and a rose tinge began to bloom on his cheeks. For some reason, the sight of his blush helped set Hermione at ease.
"So are you going to stand there all night, or are you coming to bed?" Hermoine asked him lightly, kicking off her shoes. "Some of us do have class in the morning."
Draco gave a snort. "Come on, Hermione, you know you already have the lesson plans for memorized; you've probably even started on the homework! How you talked the professors into giving you assignments ahead of time is beyond me. Why you did so is completely unfathomable."
"So I'd have more time to devote to—"
"—us?" Draco suggested hopefully, climbing into bed.
"Voldemort," Hermione finished firmly, climbing in beside him.
"Ew, Hermione, you could do so much better."
"You did not just go there, Malfoy."
"Malfoy?" Draco asked, turning to face her. "So I'm Malfoy again, hmm? Wicked, charming, vivacious, Malfoy?"
"Vivacious?"
"Very vivacious."
But he didn't move to kiss her, and Hermione felt oddly disappointed.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
He didn't pretend to play dumb.
"I don't want you to think that just because we're here…together…in my bed…I'm expecting—"
"Just shut up and kiss me, Malfoy," Hermione ordered with far more bravado than she felt.
Draco complied, but his eyes kept darting toward the door.
"What is it now?"
He sighed an admission. "It's Pansy. She had this really awkward habit of checking in on me and lately, she's been rather persistent. I've put a spell on the entrance so she can't get in past the door, but I can't lock her out entirely."
Hermione frowned. "Why not?" she demanded, cross at the thought of another girl checking up on her boyfriend.
"What do you mean, why not? You can't lock student doors at Hogwarts."
"Oh, that old charm. I found a way around it long ago."
"Really?" Draco asked with interest. "Perhaps you should demonstrate."
"Perhaps I should." Hermione lifted her arm, her wand hand trembling slightly. With a locked door, there would be no chance of interruption. Her heart started to race.
"Wait!" Draco said.
If someone had been standing in the hallway just then, they would have wondered at the black cat marching stiffly out of the room with its tail in the air, and the door shutting firmly behind it.
Chapter 20 Summary:
Hermione and Draco return to Hogwarts, destroy the Cup of Truth, and get ready to go to bed.