~ The Prophecy ~
Even as she awoke to tender hands roaming down all the spots she loved, the only coherent thought that managed to penetrate past her unyielded moaning was 'What happened on April 25th?'
It was now nearing the end of August and for the life of her, every single event she'd attended in the past few weeks had blanked in her headspace.
Laying naked under his plain white sheets, Ron was tightening his arms around her body, kissing her softly on the lips. She felt the sting of desire overcome her senses. Teasing him below the waist, she allowed this pleasure to sink, replacing all other thoughts with 'fuck yes'.
For soon, perhaps she'd have to wait a while for this same happy feeling.
It wasn't until in the moonlight, as she left Ron after an entire day filled with lazy shags, cups of tea in the kitchen, and cuddles by the TV set, Hermione let some kind of reality fester in her brain. Snogging her lover goodbye, she crept out into the warm night and apparated back into her own flat, a single in Brixton. Settling under the water of a piping hot shower, now she allowed recalls from the night before into her mind.
The boy who had tormented not only her, but her best friends, and everyone else she held dear, was asking for aid.
Begging for it, almost. She was his 'last resort'.
"Wrong."
Shaking her head, she remembered this was a snake she was dealing with.
And actually, he wasn't begging. Informing her that she could be an essential component in something he had no control over…assuming his words were the truth, was manipulation. How could she possibly know if his vulnerability was real? How could she possibly know that this wasn't a ruse?
Draco Malfoy, the owner of his very own prophecy.
How had he received one? If she recalled correctly, and she usually did, they'd all been destroyed when they had infiltrated the Department of Mysteries seven years prior.
She decided, toweling herself dry and falling back into her own bed, that as skeptical as she was in the power of Seers, of course more predictions would have been made since. The niggling thought was now 'If he has had a foretelling, how in the hell did he find out about it?'
And most importantly; "How did he figure that it was me involved in all this?"
He had almost four months to work out said prophecy, but spent an entire one in apparent fretting and desire to tell her.
The notion shook her to the core, that this might, and probably was, something so awful, something so beyond control. Shivering her to the bone, she attempted to settle in. Morning was decision time, and it was already past midnight.
Wrenching open her drawer, she grabbed her planner as she sat up for some peace of mind. Flicking the pages to April 25th, it read:
10:00 AM: Meeting with Head of Werewolf Welfare Protection Agency
2:30 PM: Lunch with the Andromeda + Teddy
That was it.
Nothing substantial, nothing odd she could recall happening during those two appointments. Fretting now without anything to go on would prove to be useless.
Relaxing into her pillows, sleep took a long while to overtake her. And as it did, only nightmares came.
Of wispy, shadowed monsters sucking her into the depths of whatever the Department of Mysteries held. Of Draco, leading her into a dimly lit room, then grabbing her by the throat and forcing her to the ground. Of a million Death Eaters hexing her as soon as she got off the lift, Lucius Malfoy laughing at her from the darkness.
{}
"You look terrible, Hermione."
"Thanks."
Guzzling back her full mug, Harry slowly put back down the cream he was about to hand her. It was only then, in the break rooms for coffee at 8 am every morning that they could have time to talk for ten minutes. Generally it was nice, but today she was hoping to avoid it.
"Paperwork keeping you up?" he questioned, dumping in far too much sugar in his own cup, stirring the contents with a spoon. "I know I was awake until 2 am last night."
"No, I'm all caught up…"
In the recess of her consciousness, 'TELL HIM ABOUT THIS' was pounding at her tongue, pleading with her mouth to say something to her very best friend. Her best friend who had this same predicament affect his entire adolescence.
"You uh, you didn't let Ron," he coughed, "keep you overnight again, did you?"
"Harry!" she smacked him on the shoulder, choking on her drink. "I was there late, but unfortunately given I work in the morning and he works at night I had to go."
"Why so tired then?"
"Just have things on my mind…"
She was an awful poker player, so when the concerned expression flitted onto his face from a silly grin, Hermione thought as fast as she could.
She simply couldn't tell him about this.
Not yet.
The timing wasn't right.
Honestly, it wasn't even a lie she was spinning:
"About Ron and I, I mean. I enjoy every time I'm with him, yet it just seems so difficult for us to get things propelled into something 'real'. I'd make time for him, I just need a commitment."
"Well he called me mighty chipper," Harry smiled, chuckling. "You know, I just….Merlin, I'm so awkward with love stuff, but he really likes you, you know. I know you both had to put everything off because you were at school and he was here, but…just keep it in mind. You might want to be the one to dive off the deep end first. He never shuts up about you."
Thoughtful green eyes staring into hers, she returned the smile, a slight flush covering her cheeks.
"I will Harry, thanks. Tell Ginny I said hey, yeah? I have to go."
"I will, see you later Hermione, good luck!"
Off with a wave, she felt the comfort of an easy conversation fall flat, sinking into a bundle of nervousness in her chest. The red hair that tickled her imagination turned white, much too white, skin fair and freckle free. The happy beaming face to a sneer she had often had desire to punch square on the nose.
{}
It was 10:15 and she hadn't arrived yet.
Punctuality seemed like a 'Brightest Witch' trait, right?
"She's not going to fucking come."
Punctuality was also a Malfoy trait, but so was impatience.
Watching the hands tick tick tick on by on his wristwatch, he let out a heavily audible grunt, drawing out the sound so it vibrated off the ceiling and back into his ears.
Pacing around the black marble floor, Draco was alone in the atrium. Cold and dark.
His footsteps echoing into a void, there was only a few seconds left until he would be unable to go in and witness again what he needed to review. Still, it was fruitless to go by himself.
"I'm here."
Jumping from his skin, Draco relaxed his jaw muscles to something neutral, spinning to witness Hermione Granger marching up to him, brows knitted, arms folded. In sharp navy robes, she cut quite the figure of authority.
"You're very late."
A harsh tone didn't manage to flicker the woman at all.
"Yes, I had a meeting. I'm here now."
"Well let's go then, they don't have all day," he commanded, pointing to the circular door in the wall, the signage above it sparkling like silver.
"I'm not going in there until you tell me why you think I should involve myself with you at all, Draco."
Two could play commander, it seemed. The attempt to stare her down failed miserably, as his slate eyes met her copper, and he could tell there was no room to budge.
Inhaling a deep breath, he chose not to react otherwise.
"I want you to see it with your own eyes. Hear it and remember it."
"Remember what?"
"The prophecy. It will all be easier to understand afterwards."
"You can't just recite what it said?"
"No."
Firm.
"How do I even know there is a prophecy? For all I know, you're running some demented scheme with one of the Unspeakables."
Firmer.
"Do you honestly think I would ask you face to damn face for a favour if I was 'scheming'?"
Losing his cool, Hermione could tell he was insulted. She vowed to stay icy.
"Excuse me for not trusting you. All the information I have to go on is vague cryptic details, and you berating me when I show up a bit late is not exactly helping the matter."
She folded her arms.
"I'm not berating you, I'm merely telling you what you surely must know; appointments are tight down here. I only had seconds to explain all of this, of course they were cryptic!"
"I came here as fast as I can. And yes I realize you were interrupted before you could expand on this at the party, but reacting poorly when I try to help just won't do, Draco."
Rolling his eyes, he couldn't keep up the shield for more than a second. He was much too fatigued for any semblance of courtesy or impartiality.
"Alright. Well I want to show you the prophecy so you will trust me. If you won't go by my word, go by the source of it. Speaking of interrupting, you didn't tell the Weasel anything, did you?"
If Hermione didn't know him better, she could've sworn that worry flashed briefly across the pureblood's annoying face.
"Or Potter? They needn't be concerned with this."
"Really? Harry Potter, recipient of Voldemort's prophecy shouldn't be informed? A skilled Healer and head Auror shouldn't be concerned with potentially life threatening details? You said I was your last resort!"
Nearly close to shouting now, her hands were flailing without control.
It was no use to being ice when there was fire in your veins.
"If this isn't some petty schoolyard problem, then why –"
"If you tell them Granger, they will make it worse, trust me. If my hunch is right, this isn't something that can involve anyone that is known well in the public eye."
"I'm in law enforcement!"
"Yes, but you are in the Prophecy, which means that you are a crucial piece in solving it. Besides, you are in charge of making and researching the laws, it's not the same – just can you come with me!? FUCK."
The steel wall had been crushed entirely; Draco was flushed pink, running fingers through messy tendrils of hair. It was then at his lack of volume limit that she noticed his dark circles were worse than hers, and that his skin was pallid like it had been in sixth year.
It was then the time to take this seriously.
"There's no need to curse at me. If you feel it's this grave, let's go."
Shooing him forwards, he shook his head, throwing his arms up, yanking the handle open. Draco allowed her to enter first, eyeing her movement as she walked up to the counter. The inside of the department was gloomy, the only light being a bluish glow illuminating the grey-robed Unspeakable sitting at the desk. As he made his presence known, the woman, tortoise shell glasses poised perfectly on her face, fingers dancing a mile a minute, kept on scribbling notes with her quill.
"Ahem."
Draco cleared his throat. The woman, Gladys Everclear, ignored it.
Without looking up, she spoke;
"Draco Malfoy, appointment at 10:00 AM on June 2nd with Elias Kalivas? It is 10:22 now. The Department of Mysteries has a very strict mandate about appointments."
"I realize that. I sincerely apologize."
Humming lightly, the girl tittered.
"I'm afraid apologizing has little in the way of fixing the situation. We don't tolerate tardiness."
"I was not tardy, my guest was, and I was informed that I had some time before my appointment would be cancelled. As you can see, if you'll take your eyes away from your work for a moment to acknowledge us, that I mentioned I wouldn't be alone when I wrote the letter!"
Pausing, the witch took a tissue from the corner of the table and dabbed at her frames, where Draco's spittle had flown from his huffing.
"There's simply nothing I can do for you. Please reschedule. Good bye."
Turning sideways to glare at her, Hermione elbowed him away and ignored it.
"Miss Everclear, I'm sure you're aware, but the mandate according to Section 3, clause 5 in Department of Mysteries Regulation Volume XII states that if there is an acquaintance accompanying an appointment that there is a leeway of up to 20 minutes. As a Ministry employee, surely you can lend me this one favour. I can see on your schedule that we are the only people on the list until after lunch. Technically, we're only two minutes late if you play strictly by the rules. Could you please allow us in? We should not take up more than 15 minutes more of your or Mr. Kalivas' time."
Draco, now behind her, shot his eyebrows up to his forehead: She'd actually taken time to search the parameters of her half hour visit with him, someone she didn't even believe.
Finally, Gladys looked up, noticing who the ex-Death Eater was standing with. Matching Draco's expression she narrowed her stare, then sighed as she summoned her patronus, an owl: "Mr. Kalivas, your 10 o'clock are here. Mr. Malfoy….and Ms. Granger…"
"Thank you," Hermione nodded, as the bright stream of light flew away to another room.
"He's not going to be very pleased," was the curt response.
Uncomfortable seconds later, an eagle returned: "Send them in, three waves," came the distorted warbly voice.
Swishing the stiff elm in her grasp, Gladys enchanted a sparkling entry-way behind her – three times - unlatching the barrier that held them back.
As her insides tightened, Draco immediately leapt to go, disappearing under the magic, as if through a black veil. Following him, she held her breath as she took tender steps.
Waves of nostalgia hit her like a ton of bricks when the atmosphere settled. The Prophecy Hall had been fully restored. Rows upon rows of orbs stacked on sturdy metal shelves, almost clinical in the way they were lined, a grid.
She found her gaze darting in between the massive aisles in search of hooded figures in masks.
Scanning the premises for Elias, Draco saw Hermione's head buzzing around, her hand clasped firmly in her pocket. Emitting loud – yet controlled - deep breaths.
Hermione felt a stiff pat on her elbow, wincing at the touch.
"Don't worry, Granger, there's nobody lurking around. I can see Mr. Kalivas up there."
The man who looked very near a spitting image of the person who had taunted her in the very same room the last time she was here was attempting to ease her worry. The fact a Malfoy was even expressing any sort of empathy was bizarre enough, yet there he was. Staring straight ahead, and she saw he was correct.
Severe and frowning, slicked back hair, Elias was waiting for them in front of the section marked with an 'M', tapping a shoe impatiently.
"Good morning," Draco greeted the man, noticeably straighter and less frazzled than how he had acted moments before.
"Morning," Hermione repeated, attempting to place the man's face. How had she worked here for nearly 4 years and never once seen either of these people before? She knew the Deputy Head Eileen Broderick, she knew two of the facilitators by reputation and yet…
This was so very queer.
"Well this is curious," was all the mysterious Unspeakable said, looking her up and down before wandering down the passage,.
Following him, after no further explanation, Hermione spoke up:
"Excuse me, but what's –"
"Be quiet, Granger," whispered Draco, as he flung his arm downwards to silence it.
She had to hold herself back from yelling a retaliate.
Before she could though, Elias spoke.
"What is curious, Ms. Granger, is that Mr. Malfoy came to the conclusion that you were involved in his prophecy, and thereby, as you must have deduced from the one made for your friend Mr. Potter and He Who Must Not Be Named, that by telling you about it, you are now bound to it."
"What!?"
Said in unison, they both shared the same shocked face, though while Draco's was encased in fright, hers was encased in fury.
"But what if it's wrong? What if I'm wrong?"
"I have no doubts that you are right. See for yourself."
Hermione, fingertips cold, head hot, saw the tag 'Draco Malfoy'. Her whole head was spinning, the room unable to focus now as carefully, Draco held the orb in his hands, facing her. Glowing bright enough to blind, an eerie voice resonated around the room;
Born when leaves begin to fall from their branches, she is courageous and astute… She who can rescue everyone from the one in charge...And all he commands..From imminent destruction…Destined to succeed if only he who knows all secrets reveals all…Only if the two can work together in harmony…
The light flew out, darkness shrouding them as they adjusted to the change. If she was spinning before, she was near delirious now. Exhaling a gasp, she steadied her grip by grabbing onto the shelf behind her.
Draco was absolutely stoic, swallowing a lump in his throat.
Elias was unmoved.
"You were born in fall yes? You were a Gryffindor in Hogwarts, and you are one of the smartest women – also in great position - of our time. Courageous and astute. It is perfect in sense that Mr. Malfoy would assume it is you."
Locking eyes with the Slytherin, as he pursed his lips at Elias' generous description, Hermione's brain ceased to work.
Imminent destruction
He who knows all the secrets
Work together in harmony
The last one seemed the most daunting, as they couldn't go for more than five minutes without discrepancy.
All she knew now was that Draco had been right in being afraid. That this was dire, and he did need help.
"Clearly there is much for you to discuss. Have a pleasant afternoon."
Looking back and forth between them, Elias gave an invitation to leave.
And so they did.
Stepping out into the corridor, back into the empty room, Hermione was still struggling to think.
"I – I…I have to go back to work…I know we – I guess we have to – We need to speak about this in depth."
Shuffling, she noticed he was unnerved at her unsteady manner.
"I'm free all day…." He shook his head. "Fuck it, I'm free every day. You're right, there are many details we need to flesh out. I don't know when you want to talk, I don't care. I just hope now you see the magnitude of this."
"I do, Draco. And I don't know what this means for our future…I really think I should speak to –"
"No. Just – please, don't. Trust me. You need to know everything before involving another life, alight?"
He was the most genuine all day, leaning in close to her as if the walls could talk.
"Okay. Can you meet me tonight, at seven? I'll be here, on floor 5. At the end of the hall. No one will be around except a few people, but just act casual. It's the most secure place I can think of."
"Yes. Seven is fine. I'll see you then."
As he stepped away, he turned back.
"And Granger?"
Saying nothing, she looked to him.
"Thank you for coming."
Into the lift, he leant against the barrier, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Hermione, gathering her thoughts about what the hell she was doing, had swirls of ideas on what Draco could have possibly gotten himself into.