Chapter Thirty-Nine
Hermione felt trapped. The walls of the school felt suffocating when she couldnt be allowed outside: it had been forbidden – the rain was getting to be too much. The lake had flooded and the grounds were feet deep in mud. Hermione wondered how Hagrid had not drowned in his hut.
She climbed to the fifth floor balcony, where there was a copious overhang. She knew she would still get wet, but at that point, she didnt care. All she wanted was some fresh air and a few minutes away from the hustle and bustle of school.
She passed a memorial portrait of Colin Creevey, and all but ran onto the balcony, closing the doors behind her. Finally she was alone.
The storm outside was howling: it was no wonder no one else was occupying the little marble area. The wind was ferocious as it whipped her already-frazzled hair, endless rain droplets beating down onto the stone.
Hermione closed her eyes and pressed her back against the door, sliding down until she was sitting directly in a puddle, which had possibly taken days to accumulate. The overhang was not doing much to protect her from the storm; Within a few minutes, she was drenched.
"This cant go on," she muttered quietly.
Her voice was lost in a peal of thunder – just as, she felt, her voice had been silenced in the world.
.
.
My brother,
Your situation truly is upsetting. Although I did not get a chance to get to know either you or your wife (as I shall refer to her now in these letters, on the chance that someone may come across them), the arrangement always did come across to me as a little odd. That the marriage was arranged was something I did assume. That the cause of arrangement was something to this magnitude, I had no idea.
It is raining here just as heavily as it has been for the past week. You are absolutely right that something does need to be done about it. Though as for an answer, I am sadly lacking in advice.
Have you talked to her? What does she think? I know she's very intelligent; Perhaps there is something she has to say that could be of some use. Using both of your brainpower together, I'm sure something could be arranged.
I'm staying at my mother's home in Germany at the moment, and I regret the lateness of my letter. Twitch (the owl) wasnt very eager to deliver the letter in the first place, on account of the rain, and I imagine he was quite rude to you. My apologies.
There is a library in town I think I will visit. The basement is open only to wizards, though the upstairs is for the Muggles, who aren't aware there is a downstairs at all. I will look into the properties of Grenadian Thestral Hoof Enamel, as you wished, though I doubt that my search will wield much better results than yours.
Until next time,
Your brother,
Adrian Gleibter
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Draco folded the letter quickly and stored it in his trunk. He sat down on his bed, at a loss – though he wasnt willing to admit it. There wasnt really any way to hide it, though: Draco Malfoy was in a pickle.
His mother's advice had been to research the Thestral Hoof Enamel, and discover the way Lucius was planning to resurrect a spirit of the Dark Lord. This was good advice, though the letter was annoyingly lacking with sound advice on what to do about the rain.
Adrian's advice, on the other hand, seemed to be that Hermione would have some kind of answer. If that wasn't frustrating enough... he was probably right!
But that would mean talking to her. Draco sighed aloud. That wasnt the kind of conversation he and Hermione could have through letters. Draco knew Adrian was right: but how to do it? How could they meet up at school without attracting the attention of at least one person?
Draco cast a weary glance at the owl Adrian had sent with his letter. The bird was thoroughly wet and very obviously disgruntled. Sending him at this time would probably not be a good idea, unless Draco wanted his eyes pecked out.
"What to do?" he murmured aloud.
It was lucky no one else was in the dormitory at that time, otherwise they might have thought the youngest Malfoy had finally gone insane.
"Nothing for it, I suppose," he muttered, as if in determination of the fact that he really only had one choice.
He swung the window open, and the owl flapped out in a whirl of brown and black feathers toward the owlery. Once the bird had gone, Draco pulled out a spare piece of parchment and neatly penned:
Meet me in the trophy room, 11:00 tonight.
DM
That was simple – and soon – enough that it left no time for any real contemplation about what an act would do to his pride and possibly hers; Draco was slowly beginning to realize that Hermione had her own sense of pride. He guessed that's what came of being a Gryffindor.
He made his way slowly to the owlery. There was nowhere he had to be until later when he met up with Hermione.
"If she even consents to show up," Draco thought aloud. But he knew she would.
.
.
Hermione stood waiting in the trophy room at 11:15, wondering if Draco had chickened out. In her mind, she was cursing him for asking her to be out and about at this late hour. With everything that was happening in her mind lately, she had taken up the habit of waking up every morning, going about her business like a robot, and sleeping during all the absences in-between. Crashing at night and various naps throughout the day kept her waking thoughts to a minimum, allowing her only to have to think of what was necessary. Though her dreams weren't much better than her reality.
A slight movement to her left startled her out of her wandering thoughts, though she was sure not to let it show. From the shadows, Draco appeared.
The two stared at one another for a moment, as if they were having a kind of conversation in their heads. Hermione noticed there were shadows under his eyes, mirrors of her own.
"You're late," she finally stated.
"You're early," he insisted.
Hermione allowed the corners of her mouth to upturn, which came as a surprise to her. Could it be true that she had missed the wry sense of humor that this young man offered? She supposed it might have. After all, a buoyant humor no longer agreed much with her character.
"You set the time," she pointed out.
"I did," he agreed.
They were silent.
"Its late. I have to be in bed soon. What did you need?" she finally asked.
"How soon?"
The question caught her by surprise, "Well I have Arithmancy early tomorrow, that's all..."
"We should go to the manor to talk things over."
Hermione swallowed; She had known that was coming and yet, it came as a surprise. But she also knew it was necessary.
"Okay."
He offered her his arm, which she did not refuse this time. They made their way to the nearest classroom with a fireplace – being careful to avoid a run-in with Filch – and Floo'd without further ado back to their home.
Despite herself, Hermione felt strangely glad to be sitting back in the Queen Ann style chairs that adorned her refurbished parlor. She sank into her favorite by the window with a sigh.
"Its comforting," escaped her lips.
"It is," Draco agreed, preferring to stand. He stood by the window on the opposite wall, peering out into the rainy night, looking much the part of a Byronic hero. In her mind, Hermione gave Draco some Mr. Darcy-ish features, feeling somewhat satisfied with being able to do so successfully - that had never worked before with Ron, or even Harry.
"What brought this on? I don't suppose you brought me here for my health."
He stared at her with hauntingly boreal eyes, two gelid orbs that betrayed a host of emotions Draco always tried to hide. Hermione couldn't break her gaze.
He ripped his eyes from hers with some reluctance, feeling ashamed at his own weakness. What drew his eyes to hers? Her warmth? It must be. His life had emanated cold, as far back as he could remember...
Perhaps his frostbitten soul was warming up, due to the intensity of hers: only, the flame was too hot, and the extremities were being sacrificed, causing him pain. This concept was too much for Draco, however; He banished the idea to the Siberian isolation of his subconscious.
"We have problems."
"I know."
"I talked to Adrian."
Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"He told me to talk to you. That we should put our heads together, and..."
"...You didnt think that the school was the best place to talk about it," she finished for him. "And you're right."
He nodded, wondering where she'd learned to finish his sentences.
"Well, what are we dealing with? she asked aloud. "We have the world about to flood because we refuse to conceive a child. Countless lives are dependant upon our sexual life. On the other hand, once said child is to hypothetically come into existence, we have an even bigger problem – that namely, being that your father wants to bring back the spirit of Voldemort - or what's left of it - in order to sap away his powers and secure his own authority to achieve world domination of some sort."
"My father does not desire world domination," Draco corrected. "His wants are less disruptive than that. He merely wants power within the societies that exist. No new world orders. No global changes. He does not desire to be king, or lord. He desires the power to restore the fear, awe, prosperity, and excellence that once made the Malfoy name worth associating with. He also, no doubt, desires more wealth and reputation. He wants to be feared."
Hermione was silent for some time, turning this over in her head and chewing on the inside of her cheek.
"His solution for this is ludicrous," Hermione concluded, shaking her head. "Did he learn nothing last year?"
"My mother believes something crucial in his mind snapped when he was sent to Azkaban," Draco supplied.
Hermione also digested this information and concluded it was likely. "So he's insane."Draco winced at the word. Hermione noticed, and felt pity for him: even if Lucius wasnt much of a father anymore, knowing that he might have gone insane still couldn't be an easy attribute to associate with one's father. "Sorry," she apologized.
Draco gave her a stern look that reminded her of McGonagall.
Hermione peered around the room anxiously, realizing she had just offended Draco. There had been a time when she wouldn't have cared, but that time was passed.
"Where's your mother?" she asked, hoping to break the silence.
"Around," Draco answered monosyllabically.
"How do you know?"
"I know," he confirmed cryptically.
Hermione stared at him for a long while. "So what's the plan?"
"There isnt one."
"Well it seems to me like the best thing possible would be to buy ourselves some more time before we can figure out what to do about your father."
"That would be ideal," Draco agreed, "but it is also next to impossible. I dont know of any counter-spells, and no one I've contacted..."
Hermione interrupted him by clearing her throat. She blushed as she said, "There's a Muggle way."
Dracos lip curled in a very Snape-esque way. "Muggles," he muttered under his breath. "Well, what is it?"
"I'm sure I know what you're going to say," an aristocratic voice purred from the doorway.
Hermione jumped visibly, her heart leaping into her mouth.
Draco seemed unperturbed. "Mother," he acknowledged.
Narcissa strode into the room, even her stride seeming to emit signals of better-than-you. "And despite that a Muggle remedy for things such as these exists, it won't work in this case."
"Would you care to explain the situation?" Draco drawled.
Narcissa shot her son a look that clearly said she'd thought he'd been rude. He striahgtened his stance and shut his mouth. "Artificial insemination," Naricissa said, wrinkling her nose as if she'd said something filthy.
"Which is...?" Draco prompted.
Naricissa explained the concept to her son, whose face grew more and more horrified the more was explained to him. Hermione was blushing a deep crimson by the end of the explanation.
"Eugh," Draco concluded.
Narcissa smiled sarcastically and turned her wide, pale eyes to Hermione. "I checked with Baxter. It won't work."
Hermione's face darkened at the mention of Carissa Baxter. "That hag," she muttered under her breath.
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Author's Note: Thank you all for being so patient with me lately. I know it's been a month since I last updated, but boy what a month it has been! I was finally able to buy the house of my dreams, and we're in the process of moving, so this chapter literally did take me a month to write! But here it is... I made it a little longer to atone for the wait.
Thanks TONS to MyLookOfDenial., sureynot, InvisibleLilacNights, gitgit, Marmalade Fever, RIPJameSiriusLupinTrueMarauder, Hermione0323, Xx. Shaiya Star-Gazer .xX, PrettyChelsea, Padfoot7Prongs, ShadX - Dramione Fan, and ebbe04 for the reviews! Your reviews are what make me want to write more!!!
Xx. Shaiya Star-Gazer .xX - Yes, there will be a Head Boy and Girl. But I haven't got around to mentioning them yet because I'm not quite sure who to make them yet. I may never get around to it, but they do exist!
Marmalade Fever - Haha, I too love marmalade. I had to mention it last chapter. Quite great stuff, it is.
Padfoot7Prongs - Oops! Sorry for the misspell! I do try to catch as many as possible, but something always evades me. Sheesh. As for the cold Draco to the warm and fuzzy Draco... well, I quite agree. It's unrealistic. I don't see Draco ever becoming warm and fuzzy. At least not in this fic. And if he does, it will end up being a very private thing. Part of why we like Draco is because he's so Byronic and brooding. It'd be a shame to change that....