A/N: Hey guys! I'm back and I have good news-updates should be more regular as I have finished up two stories and outlined the next twelve chapters. I have a lot planned and am pretty excited about it so I hope you guys enjoy!
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000
The sound of Lucius' cane clacking against the white marble floor echoed throughout the palace court. He gripped the cold, silver snake head of his cane, steeling his nerves as he approached King Riddle's throne. He would have liked to avoid seeking out the King, but recent events had forced him into action.
How could his only son and heir have been so misfortunate as to have his vessel attacked and be lost at sea? It reinforced what Lucius had already known, what he and his father had hammered into Draco time and time again—the sea was no place for him. How many times had Lucius, his father Abraxas, and even his mother, encouraged him to take up a post within the Ministry? Such work was admirable—sought after even. Yet there his son was, snubbing his nose at it, in favor of a much more dangerous and even frowned upon profession. But lucrative, he thought reluctantly. Draco had always said it was his dream to see the Malfoy vaults overflowing once more, and truly, he sent much back to the family to ensure this happened. Still, Lucius would take his son over galleons any day. What good was a legacy if there was no one to leave it to?
"Lucius, friend," King Riddle said, jolting him out of his silent reverie. "What brings you to court today?"
Although the King was being friendly, Lucius knew better than to trust him. He threw up his Occlumency shields merely out of habit. The Malfoys had always served House Riddle well and one of the ways they stayed in good favor was by proving themselves an asset. Petitioning for a favor was very ill-advised indeed. Yet what choice do I have?
"Excellency," Lucius said, bowing his head in deference. "I've come here today on behalf of my son."
"Have you heard the news?" The King raised his jewel-encrusted goblet and a Muggle slave hurried to fill it. Sometimes, Lucius wondered why he did not simply cast a Repelo, but he supposed King Riddle relished in the attention of his inferiors waiting on him.
"The news, Excellency?"
"Of the survivors, of course." The king took a drink of the dark purple liquid, before sitting back, his face aloof and impassive.
"Was…?"
"Your son was not among them, unfortunately. It seems dear Draco has given us the slip. It was only Zabini, Nott, and Jones—in their altered memory charm state—that were returned to us."
Lucius pressed his lips into a thin line.
"That's where we differ from our enemy—where our strength lies—there would be no survivors returned should the roles be reversed." An unnatural red gleam flickered through the King's eyes and Lucius had to suppress a shudder. "That brings our total to seven lost at sea. Not to mention the valuable vessel which is now at the bottom of the ocean or the Muggle cargo." King Riddle only just seemed to remember Lucius standing there. "My deepest sympathies to you and your family."
"Your Highness," Lucius said through gritted teeth. "I do not believe my son is dead."
"No?" A look of bemusement passed over the King's face. "A father's unwavering hope—how touching."
Lucius took a deep breath before continuing. "The Malfoy tapestry; Draco's name still appears among the living. And his portrait hasn't been immortalized in our home."
King Riddle smiled brazenly. "So you believe he is out gallivanting on another adventure? How exciting." Lucius could not even attempt to show amusement and the King's smile dropped. "What is it you want, Lucius?"
"I was hoping, Majesty, that you might give me leave to search for my son."
"And waste more valuable palace resources? The mission is folly."
"I would use my own funds. I would only take a select few with me to search in the area where his ship was taken down. Perhaps Zabini and Nott-"
"Zabini and Nott will be indisposed for a while. They will soon have their own mission to depart for." The King's malicious smirk sent chills down Lucius' spine.
"Majesty?"
"We've been gifted with an opportunity, to actually have members of our own Court in the presence of the rebels. They will tell me everything, then they will be tasked with locating the rebel base. Do you know that the weaklings actually used healing magic on them? In their softness, they've delivered us certified trackers I'll be eager to send out to sufficiently…thank them."
"But their memories…"
"Nothing a little torture can't unlock."
Lucius suppressed a cringe. "Excellency, I do not need to bring many. Five will suffice. I can secure passage on a trading ship. Only if you give me your leave."
"I think it a colossal waste of time." King Riddle shifted in his seat, looking strangely reminiscent of a whiny teenage boy on the verge of throwing a temper tantrum should he not get his way. A silly thought, seeing that, despite his outward appearance, the King had to be upwards of eighty. He evaluated Lucius shrewdly, before finally seeming to come to a decision. "Very well, if you wish to pursue this exercise in futility, you have my leave, but you will be wasting no one else's time—you will go at it alone."
Lucius bowed his head, not wishing to press his luck. "His Majesty is most kind." He would locate his son, even if he did not have the aid of Draco's friends. He would hire a guide to take him out to sea, and he would not come back without Draco.
000
Rolling over onto her back, Hermione stretched luxuriously on her makeshift pallet. She heard Malfoy sleeping soundly on the pallet opposite hers and she let out a contented sigh. They'd been on the island nearly three weeks, according to her estimations, and it had quickly began to feel very much like home.
She knew there was much of the island they had yet to explore. Most of the area was difficult to get to thanks to steep cliffs, lakes, waterfalls, and rigorous trails. But this side of the island, they had come to know well. Hermione found herself quite suited to island life. She adored eating the abundant supply of tropical fruits, ducking into the small grottos behind the waterfalls, letting the soft surf bounce her around in the early evenings, and catching fish and eating it by the fire while they told stories at night. Malfoy really wasn't such bad company. He was fairly peaceful when he wasn't sneering his distaste for her, which seldom happened anymore.
Straightening, Hermione got to her feet, doing a quick estimation of how much time she had before Malfoy would wake. A thought had been plaguing her as of late. What would happen to her if they were found? Either by pirates, or by Malfoy's rescue party, neither option held very much promise for her. No, being found would never do. She needed to ensure that she would stay free and away from any oppressive kingdoms or meddlesome rebellions, eager to bend her will and conform her to theirs.
Slipping on her sandals, she made her way carefully down the staircase. She often slept in late being as her responsibilities were very minimal, but sometimes she would wake early when the sky was still tinged a darker shade of blue and take a walk down the beach, relishing in the chance to get a hold of her thoughts…and practice her magic free of Malfoy's prying eyes.
She'd learned a lot about herself and her magic, since finding herself on the island. She may not have a wand, or never used one, but she found being so immersed in nature only seemed to intensify her magic. She may not have a wand to channel it through, but she was learning to focus it just the same, through her body and then through her fingertips, yielding the desired reaction. Her magic was more elemental than the witches and wizards she had been around in England, she surmised. It was natural and refused to be suppressed. It crackled and swirled at the slightest beckoning, just begging to be summoned and used in any capacity. Hermione loved her magic, and she would absolutely not give it up even if she felt a tad guilty.
A flicker of remorse shot through her as she thought of Draco and how he longed to return to his family. She knew he was an important person, his family was a pillar in the wizarding community, but she could not bring herself to stand by idly and let themselves be found. She was finally free to flex her magic and really get to know it, without worrying about being caught by hordes of people who would eagerly turn her into Azkaban or worse—have the Wizengamot sentence her to the Kiss.
No, despite her reservations, the best thing she could do was secure her own future. No one else had ever bothered to look after her so it was ultimately her responsibility.
I don't even know if it will work. It was true, but she felt a slight thrill just the same at the prospect of using such advanced magic. She had read about many charms, but a disillusionment charm of this magnitude seemed a bit out of reach. Not with this island, not with such untapped inherent magic just waiting to be called upon. Hermione knew she had grown to slightly romanticize the place, but she couldn't disregard the fact that her magical capability seemed to know no bounds here.
There seemed an abundant supply of magical energy just waiting to be called upon, whether from the sweet tropical air, the rich soil, or the clear, blue waters. Either way, Hermione found she had an easier time wielding her magic whilst drawing upon the properties of the elements. She needed only to voice the spell in her head or even simply imagine it, and it came to be. She'd always been able to perform simple enchantments—she could float or clean objects since she was a child—but the more advanced spellwork had always been a challenge.
Until now.
Resolved in the task before her, Hermione sat down gingerly in between a fringe of trees where the dark, rich soil met the white sand and surf of the beach. She took a deep inhale of the salty ocean breeze, watching as the ocean water pulled and pushed along the bank.
The Praetexo Charm, a spell she'd only briefly read about when Olive came home for Yule break during her fifth year, before she was sent to Remedial Charms class—this spell was her only option in ensuring the island became unplottable.
It would be difficult, she knew. Generally the concealment charm required two wizards or witches to enact it, but it was her best chance at getting what she wanted. If she could pull this off, the island would become hidden and she need not worry about ever being somebody's slave again.
She leaned back on her elbows, before falling flat to her back. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the sound of the waves crashing softly on the beach, on the sound of the palm leaves as they swayed in the island breeze. It lulled her to a calm and focused state. Stretching her fingers, she threaded them through the soft earth, calling upon the energy and feeling it immediately course through her. She took another deep breath, breathing in the sweet air tasting of salty sea. Feeling her power intensify, she decided to put her theory to the test.
"Praetendio," she said, enunciating the word carefully.
The wind picked up and the palm leaves swayed faster. She concentrated on what she needed to do. Protection. Concealment. Hide me. Unplottable. Conceal me.
"Praetendio," she called, louder this time. Her fingers trailed through the now loosened soil as a cacophony of light and sound seemed to erupt around her. She could hardly keep her breathing steady as she suddenly felt as if caught in an angry storm.
Steeling her features, she tried again, firmly through the halestorm around her. "PRAETENDIO!"
A flash of golden light erupted around her before vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. The frenzy of activity went with it and Hermione found her fingers flying through air. She tried to sit up but her head felt unnaturally heavy. Did it work? Hermione wasn't sure if it had, the golden light had disappeared so fast, perhaps she needed to try it again? Flexing her muscles, she was about to try again when a voice sent a ribbon of fear running through her.
"Hermione!"
She jolted upwards, noticing at once that she was no longer touching solid ground, but rather, was levitating a good two meters in the air. Upon realizing this, she promptly descended downwards, landing with a hard thump onto her bum and thwacking her head on the ground.
She let out a yelp of pain, forcing herself to sit up and dust the dirt off of her dress. Her head was pounding and her blood pulsed at her temples. She felt like her body was positively humming and she tried in vain to relax herself, thinking she may have called upon too much magic and he might sense it.
"Hermione!"
She dusted the remnants of dirt off of her dress, casting a silent Tergio for good measure. She looked up just in time to see Malfoy pushing low hanging leaves aside to get to her.
"Malfoy, over here." She waved, plastering on a false smile and attempting to look composed.
Upon seeing her, his usually bored and impassive face quickly gave way to horror. She gulped, wondering if her fears were coming true and he was beginning to suspect her.
"Hermione, what happened?" He ran over and quickly dropped to her side. He ripped off the cuff of his shirt with a strength that surprised her, before tilting her head back and plugging her nose with it.
"What the bloody hell, Malfoy?" She tried to speak clearly, but her voice came out nasally. "What are you playing at?" She wrenched away from his surprisingly strong grip.
"Your sodding nose is bleeding," he explained, holding up the now reddened cuff of his shirt, damp with her blood. "What happened?"
Merlin, my nose! Most likely thanks to the magic she'd called upon. "Oh, that." She waved her hand flippantly. "I get them in the morning, sometimes. A Muggle thing."
Icy gray eyes wandered over her contemplatively and she had the wild urge to hide, perhaps perform a Praetexio Charm on herself? "A Muggle thing? And this is common for you?" His intense gaze seemed to cut through her and she had the insane notion he could read her thoughts.
"Intermittent, actually." She turned towards their camp, more so that she couldn't be caught in his unwavering gaze. "I'm not sure about you, but I'm famished," she called over her shoulder.
"Perhaps you should sit down," he suggested, grabbing hold of her wrist.
That thing that often happened whenever he was concerned ran rampant again and her heart beat wildly in her chest. Her senses warred with each other as part of her tensed for battle while another part of her seemed to sway towards him. Damned bloody pheromones, she thought.
"It's fine, Malfoy," she said crisply. "I assure you—I can take care of myself like I always have." She whirled away without looking to see if he was following.
000
Carrying the malleable woven basket under his arm, Draco followed Hermione as she led them toward the beach, the torch burning brightly in her hand. He estimated it was early evening, yet the moon was already bright in the sky.
"We are catching dinner later and later," he whined. "When we first arrived, it was still light out when we collected the fish."
Hermione sighed, as if put out by having to deal with someone of inferior intelligence. Draco bristled at the idea; never before had a Muggle made him feel so…stupid. "That's because the earth's gravitational pull is taking us closer to the moon later and later. The tide only rises when it's far away, Malfoy. Surely a seaman like yourself would know that."
Draco eyed Hermione as best he could in the dim moonlight. She'd been rather aloof that day, ever since he'd happened upon her the day before on the beach. He'd been annoyed to wake up and find breakfast hadn't been prepared yet. She was usually on top of that. He also didn't like waking up alone. What if the silly little bint decided to abandon him on the island? Sure, thanks to her, he now knew how to do a number of things on his own, but he still preferred the company, even from a lowly Muggle like herself. A lowly Muggle unlike any Muggle you've ever come across before, he reminded himself crossly.
Yes, this was true. Hermione had proven to be one of a kind. He valued power above all else and he supposed competence in a Muggle was an equivalent to this. In a way, she had earned his respect, albeit just slightly. So when he'd come to find the infuriating girl and she'd appeared to be hurt, of course his irritation faded away and he'd sprung into action. He just wasn't sure why she had become so cold and distant. Not only that, but she seemed to be hiding something. The thought sent a stab of worry coursing through him. He hoped that wasn't the case. He hoped she wasn't concealing some ailment and was too proud to discuss it with him. He'd simply have to watch her more carefully. Not to mention he'd need to get her to smile if he could help it. He didn't very much care for brooding Hermione—that was his role to play.
"I never really cared for such things," he answered finally. "With modified weather charms it really wasn't of very much importance." They reached the beach and sure enough, the pool they'd made with the rocks was visible and further up from the water. "How is it that you've come to know so much about all of this in the first place?" He didn't try to hide the suspicion from his voice.
"If you have issues with it, take it up with your king. He's the one who demands all Muggle children attend school from their first to their fourth year." She stuck the torch into the sand.
"Really?" He was not expecting that answer.
"You mean you didn't know?"
He scowled at the smug tone of her voice. "No, and I can't say I've ever run across a Muggle school before, either."
She perched loftily on one of the rocks that edged their makeshift pool and reached into her satchel, pulling out the tool they'd made fashioning limestone into a handheld spear of sorts. Draco felt like a caveman. "You wouldn't see them," she said matter-of-factly. "There's nothing to be seen. The older Muggles teach the school-age children locally, behind barns and such. It's not so official, just basics really." She shot him a searching look and he was struck by the way her face seemed almost ethereal in the moonlight. "Are you so surprised your king should allow for Muggle education?"
"I think it's a good idea, to be sure. The basics clearly come in handy. I'm just surprised King Riddle would see it that way." He truly was. He'd never known the king to have a soft spot for learning but apparently there was much he didn't know about the British monarch. "I wonder if the Mudbloods in Azkaban have academic privileges," he mused, more to himself.
She scoffed. "Doubtful, especially considering all Mudbloods caught practicing magic are sentenced to the Kiss. No, Malfoy, his leniency does not spread to them." There was a splash as she speared a fish and tossed it into the basket.
Brows knitted in suspicion, he asked, "How would you know that?"
She froze for only a split second, before resuming her action. Draco had to wonder if he'd only imagined her hesitation. "I've told you time and again, Malfoy. I grew up in a magical world. Of course we were all made aware of the dangers Mudbloods pose."
"I just haven't seen a Muggle speak so freely on it."
"Well, have you ever taken the time to speak to a Muggle before me?" she snapped, voice frigid. "No, I suppose not. But you drew your own misinformed conclusions, regardless. I swear, Malfoy, you can be so dense sometimes."
He blanched at her crass words and the harsh tone by which she delivered them. "You really are in a foul mood today, aren't you." She speared another fish and repeated her prior action.
"Sorry," she muttered.
"It's fine," he replied automatically, plopping down by the basket and reaching for a fish.
He withdrew the blade he'd begun to feel familiar with and set to work deboning the fish, a task he'd come to feel much more comfortable with as of late. They worked together in silence, Hermione spearing more fish than Draco supposed they could eat before they spoiled, but he didn't try to stop her.
Finally, having seemed to get her fill, she came and plopped down beside him, fisting her hands by her side, and watching him silently as he worked.
"You should really do that by the fire, where you can see better," she suggested.
"The moon is bright enough."
They stayed quiet again and Hermione seemed content to simply watch him.
"I am sorry," she said again. "It's just that I get angry sometimes at…injustices."
"But they aren't your injustices to worry about."
"I know that." She fiddled with the sleeves of her dress distractedly. "But injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."
He frowned as he pondered her words. "A Muggle quote?"
"That's right, by a very wise Muggle."
"You mean there are others? I confess, I thought you were just a fluke." He graced her with a scoundrel-like grin.
"Of course there are others," she said patiently, but smiled back at him just the same. "And I wish you'd realize it. I wish others would realize it, too."
Draco said nothing, her words running through his mind over and over. He reached for a blue fish, laying it over his palm whilst preparing to slice its belly. The fish gave one last, valiant flop, startling Draco and causing him to nick his wrist instead.
Hermione gasped. "What did you do?" She sat up at her knees, tearing at her dress, and hastily wrapping the swatch of material around his wrist.
"If we keep ripping our clothes, we're not going to have much left to wear." He chuckled, and she shot him a withering stare.
"Don't be silly, Malfoy. We have plenty to wear thanks to that chest washing up." She tied the knot hard and he winced at the sting. "And this isn't a laughing matter. Do you realize something as inconsequential as a cut could kill you on this island? What if you get an infection?"
"I'm not a Muggle, Hermione," he informed her impetuously. "I'm a wizard and we don't get those filthy Muggle diseases."
"How would you know? With the slightest injury were you not whisked away to a Healer?"
"Well, yes, but-"
"I'm sure they performed some type of cleaning spell on you, which would prevent an infection from ever happening."
"Perhaps, only—"
"Now, that is simply not an option. Imagine, the brave and noble Draco Malfoy succumbs to an early death thanks to a cut he received whilst cleaning a fish." She unwrapped the bandage and splashed some salt water over the small wound. "I forgot to clean it first," she explained, before setting about tying the material again. She looked up proudly. "Impressed, Malfoy?"
He looked into her eyes, glittering in the pale moonlight. Her lips were quirked in a half smirk and she was panting softly after her impromptu speech. His gaze fell to her lips and he had the sudden, inexplicable urge to brush them up against his own. Blood thundered in his ears, but he steeled himself against the insane notion. "You are the single most annoying person I've ever met."
The moment was broken and she rolled her eyes, her smirk growing.
Draco reached down to collect the basket when he suddenly felt her grip on his forearms, holding him tightly like a vice.
"Malfoy," she hissed, voice tight and unusually fearful. "Look." She gestured out towards the sea.
He scanned the water and his blood chilled at the sight before his eyes. Galvanized into motion, he darted for the torch and thrust it into the water, immediately purging them into darkness, save for the dim light provided by the moon.
"What if they're friendly?" she whispered.
"They aren't. Look at the emblem of the flag."
"I can't make it out, I can only see shadows."
"It's a Phoenix."
Hermione's breath hitched and Draco felt his own breathing becoming erratic. So the Order was still out there, out there and searching, perhaps? What were they looking for? It must be important to spend three weeks combing the Caribbean. Or perhaps this island was known to them, uncharted as it was? It was quite large; was it another rebel base?
"We need to hide, Malfoy." Hermione clutched onto him frightfully.
"Hold on. They haven't turned yet. They should turn if they mean to set anchor in this inlet. They may not have seen our fire."
They watched silently as the ship sailed directly past them, not even deigning to stop. They exchanged confused looks before running to the west end of the shore, where they could see if the ship would follow the sharp curve of the island.
It did not.
Instead, it sailed on.
They watched as it sailed until it became merely a black dot on the horizon and then finally, no longer visible.
"It worked," Hermione breathed.
"What worked?" he said sharply.
"Nothing. A prayer, that's all." She turned to head back to their forgotten dinner. "Come on, Malfoy. There's obviously no danger here. Whatever the pirates wanted, this island means nothing to them."
Draco followed her, kneeling down to grab the basket. "I suppose you're right. They probably see countless islands like this one. We should thank our lucky stars they didn't stop here."
000
