A Hundred Storms
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Somewhere Only We Know
Oh simple thing, where have you gone?
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin
- Somewhere Only We Know, by Keane
True to Hermione's prediction, Madam Pomfrey kept Draco another night before releasing him. By the time Draco was permitted to leave Hermione had to keep him from scaling the walls out of boredom.
"It's about damn time," Draco fumed as Hermione came to deliver him some fresh clothing. It's been days."
"You'll get through this, somehow," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes.
Draco caught the exasperation in her voice and grinned. "I always prevail," he said smugly.
"What will you do with your new found freedom?" Hermione asked him as he slid out of the bed and took the clothes from her.
Instead of responding Draco suddenly flung off the hospital gown, and beneath it was clad only in boxer shorts. He began dressing in the slacks and sweater Hermione had procured for him from his room as though he was doing nothing out of the ordinary.
"Honestly?" Hermione asked him as he finished dressing and looked down at her expectantly.
"What?" Draco asked innocently.
"I shared a tent with Harry and Ron for the better part of a year. Sudden male nudity is not going to throw me off my guard."
Draco's eyes narrowed. "Exactly how much sudden male nudity?"
Hermione gave him a wicked smirk. "But apparently your guard is up for grabs."
Draco glared and Hermione laughed, and suddenly her heart felt lighter and her world felt brighter than it had in days, months, maybe more. Draco was going to be fine. They would come up with another plan for the Maliceptor. Harry supported her decision to be with Draco and she and Ron finally had an understanding, even if it was shaky. The holidays were right on top of them and she had no idea when she would see her parents again, but right in that moment with Draco glaring down at her without any of the malice of their childhood...Hermione finally felt a margin of peace.
Draco cracked a reluctant smile at the sound of Hermione's laugh and shook his head. "I'm still not entirely convinced you're altogether sane, Granger," he told her.
Hermione shook her head. "Neither am I, Malfoy. Neither am I."
"Well, Granger," Draco said while looking around the empty hospital wing. "Let's get the hell out of here. I can't stand the sight of all this white any longer."
"Morning classes are already over, we have no other classes this afternoon. What would you like to do?" Hermione asked him as they exited the hospital wing.
Draco kept his eyes fixed straight ahead as they made their way through the crowded hallways. Students darted about, scrambling to make it to their next class. Hermione was used to it by now, but the stares she received from her younger classmates still made her uncomfortable. Many faces Hermione did not recognize, first, second, and third years that Hermione was either too busy, too on the run, or now, too distracted to aquatint herself with. The older students, the ones Hermione recognized from the hallways before she was the center of attention, those were the ones that truly unnerved her. She felt a renewed appreciation for what Harry must have gone through all those years, entering this world without understanding who he was or why everyone was so fixated on him. Now those older students looked at her with a mix of reverence and fear, suspicion and adoration. To them she was one of the saviors of their way of life, the brains behind Harry Potter's success. The Prophet loved waxing eloquent on the story of Hermione Granger, the Muggleborn witch who helped secure Harry Potter's victory and became the face of the anti-Voldemort movement. She was the Muggleborn who spat in the face of the propaganda Voldemort and his followers spewed throughout the Wizarding world. The strange thing is; for once they were right.
Hermione wasn't used to the Prophet actually writing kind things. Usually they speculated on her love life or any other sordid tales they could spin. She was also used to only seeing her name somehow connected to Harry's. Hermione wasn't used to being a celebrity in her own right. She wondered when things would get back to normal and they would go back to reporting on who she was presumably sleeping with.
A whizzing and BANG broke Hermione violently our of her reverie. She felt Draco grab her and and they both ducked out of instinct. Hermione shielded her eyes and gasped as she saw a familiar-looking fiery dragon of enormous proportions aimed straight for her and Draco.
As soon as she identified the assailant Hermione sighed, stood from her crouched position, and quickly pulled out her wand. "Malitiæ Tractanda!" she shouted and sparks resembling the opposing firecrackers erupted out of the end of her wand. The fireworks in the air immediately immobilized and transfigured themselves into Muggle confetti. The harmless paper fluttered through the air and tangled themselves into the hair of the spectators. The beast was gone before everyone in the hall could even register what was happening.
"Hermione!" Draco shouted and grasped her arm as Hermione watched the tiny pieces of paper float to the ground and brushed a stray piece from her robes. "What the hell?"
Without preamble the corridor burst into a riot of cheers at the stunning display the students present had just witnessed.
"Brilliant!" cried one of the older students.
"That's Hermione Granger!" A first year told her friend excitedly.
"I heard she memorized every book in the library," a Ravenclaw told a Hufflepuff. "And the school had to order more for her!"
"Did you know she rode a dragon bareback across Eastern Europe?" a small Gryffindor asked the older students around him.
The students were not even attempting to contain their voices and now spoke freely about all they knew about Hermione Granger.
A sixth year boy was busy telling a group of friends how Hermione had wrestled a full grown mountain troll her very first year at Hogwarts in the Chamber of Secrets when Hermione had enough.
"Let's get out of here," she said to Draco. He nodded and took her hand to lead her out of the throng of students gathered around them.
"Who's that?" The same small Gryffindor asked an older student.
"Draco Malfoy," the older boy spat Draco's name like a curse. "Deatheater."
Hermione didn't register the conversation around her before a shout from the back of the crowd grabbed her undivided attention.
"TRAITORS! THEY'RE TRAITORS!"
Draco's head whipped around to the source of the accusation but the students were looking at one another in obvious confusion. Everything was happening so fast that whoever it was had lost themselves in the large gathering, perhaps utilizing a ventriloquy charm to throw their voice.
"Let's move, Granger," Draco growled in her ear.
"Who was that?" Hermione asked as she let Draco guide her out of the curious group of students and into the open air of the entrance hall of the castle.
Draco stopped in the entryway. "Didn't get a look," he looked furious. "Little coward."
"It's of little consequence," Hermione reassured him. "I've been called many things, however, but traitor was never one of them. How strange. Wonder what or whom I'm betraying?"
Hermione pulled gently on Draco's hand and led him outside, transfiguring their school cloaks into heavier material to battle the cold in the air.
"I have," Draco replied angrily. "And didn't you hear? They said traitors. Plural. Whoever that was was yelling about both of us. Who the hell was that?"
Hermione lifted her shoulders in a shrug rather than respond verbally. She had taken to rubbing the outside of Draco's hand with her thumb and it seemed to have a calming effect on him.
Finally Draco's angry breathing returned to normal and he paused on the walkway leading up to the school. "What was that dragon thing?"
"Weasley's Wildfire Whiz-Bang," Hermione answered promptly. "I recognized it immediately. Didn't you?"
"Wait," Draco's mouth hung open a little. "Like that thing the Wealsey twins set on me in fifth year?"
"And Umbridge," Hermione smiled fondly at the memory. "That was one of the best days of my life."
"Thanks, Granger," Draco replied sarcastically. "I thought those things just exploded and multiplied if you tried to get rid of them?"
"I made Fred and George teach me the banishing spell," Hermione answered, sobering at the thought. "I knew they had to have a counter-spell. What disturbs me, however, is they can be magicked to chase a specific person or persons, like you and Umbridge. That dragon was heading right for us."
"They don't really cause any harm, do they?" Draco asked.
"No, not really," Hermione admitted. "They're more for shock value over anything. I just wonder who would want to play such a mean-spirited trick. At least when the twins used them the people deserved it."
Draco put up his hands in mock defeat. "I know, I know," he said. "Bad decisions all around. So who thinks I deserve it, now?"
"We deserve it, I think you mean," Hermione frowned. "Probably the same person who called us traitors I would imagine."
"Could it be the same person?" Draco didn't have to specify he meant the person who created the Maliceptor.
Hermione sighed, feeling a sudden and overwhelming blanket of exhaustion draping itself across her shoulders. She looked up into Draco's eyes and saw something there she couldn't read. She made a decision.
"Let's get out of here," she said.
"What did you have in mind?" Draco asked her. "Hogsmeade?"
Hermione shook her head. "Take my hand," she offered, reaching out to him.
It spoke volumes just how far they have come when Draco didn't even hesitate a moment before he grabbed her hand and let himself be apparated away into the unknown.
They touched down in a tiny alleyway off a busy street. The pavement all around them was littered with trash and random debris. Draco looked down at Hermione.
"Muggles?"
"Muggle London," Hermione answered him, still holding onto his hand. "Is that a problem?"
Draco shook his head. "Lead the way, Granger,"
Hermione didn't lead them far. Before long they ducked into a tiny pub off another side street and she led him to the bar.
The barkeeper came around and Hermione ordered them the equivalent of the wizard's Firewhiskey. To Draco's credit he only eyed it suspiciously for a second before throwing it back and smiling a rare smile.
"Good?" Hermione asked tentatively.
"Fantastic," Draco complimented. "Smoother than the Firewhiskey, less kick."
Hermione beamed at him and ordered another round. Drco tried to pull out his own money but Hermione put her hand on his.
"Muggle money," Hermione pointed out.
"Er, Granger," Draco was embarrassed. "Didn't you say your parent's ah..."
"Cut me off?" Hermione finished for him. "Yes. Yes they did. I have very little left, but thanks to a benevolent benefactor I do not have to worry about tuition." Hermione smiled at him again. "I have very little else to purchase, so for once I'm going to be a little rebellious. Do you mind?"
Draco could only shake his head and then rattle his small glass. "Bottom's up then, Granger," he said with a grin.
Hermione placed the glasses at the end of the bar and the barkeeper came with another round. With a smile she hit Draco's glass with her own and tossed it back.
"So why did you bring me to a Muggle pub?" Draco asked quietly.
Hermione arched a brow. "Something wrong with a Muggle pub?" she asked.
"I'm just genuinely curious," Draco said without apology. "Considering I've never actually been in one before, I would say I'm taking this rather well."
Hermione choked a little on her drink. "Ever?" she coughed.
Draco smirked. "Why in Merlin's name would I?" he asked her fairly. "All obvious points aside, why would I pick a Muggle pub?"
Hermione nodded, seeing his point. "I thought it would be obvious," she told him. "We're too well known in the wizarding world. I thought a day off from all the looks and whispers might be nice."
Draco sipped his drink, mulling a thought over before he spoke.
"Potter never really liked all that attention, did he?
Hermione set her drink down and smiled at the man beside her. "About as much as I do," she told him. "That was something you and Ron had in common, you know. You both thought Harry truly enjoyed all that publicity and attention. My how he hated it. He never understood it and more often than not it confused and frightened him. After Sirius...died he stopped caring to a degree...but the damage was done." Hermione paused. "Tell me something about yourself," she suggested. "Anything at all."
Draco ran a hand through his hair. "Anything? Well," he trailed off, thinking of something to tell her. "I really detest broccoli."
"That's the best you can do?" Hermione asked with exasperation.
"Would you like me to tell you all my deep dark secrets, Granger?" Draco asked with a hint of a sneer. "Because I can assure you, you saw many for yourself."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh will you just relax? I'm not asking you to spill your heart to me. I was thinking more along the lines of...what did you want to be when you grew up when you were a child? What's your favorite memory at Hogwarts? Favorite subject?"
"Always so inquisitive," Draco commented. The edge was out of his voice and replaced by something resembling amusement.
Hermione flushed slightly. "I'm just curious," she defended herself. "I've known you nearly half my life but I don't really know you. I apologize if I'm making you uncomfortable."
"I'm not uncomfortable, I'm..." Draco struggled for an explanation. "I'm not used to being interrogated over trivial matters."
"You mean no one ever just asked you about yourself?" Hermione asked him.
Draco thought about it for a minute. "I suppose not," he said. "Most of the people around me have been around since I was a child. The others don't really care to know the trivial details of my life."
"Well," Hermione said. "I do. Tell me all the trivial details of your life."
Draco cocked his head slightly to the side, assessing if Hermione was being facetious. When he was satisfied she was not he answered her.
"I wanted to be a Quidditch player," he told her "Like most little boys, I suppose. "My favorite memory at Hogwarts? If you had asked me a couple years ago I would have told you it was second year, when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened." Draco caught the scandalized expression on Hermione's face and hurried on. "It was like confirmation of everything I have ever been told. Now? Now I would tell you my favorite memory at Hogwarts is you. Probation or not, coming back here made it all worth it to be with you. And my favorite subject has always been potions. I'm fairly adept at it."
Hermione sniggered. "I knew Snape played favorites. Tell me more about how it was worth it to come back." Hermione ordered another round.
"Fishing, Granger?"
"Maybe," Hermione took a demure sip.
"I don't do pretty words and poetry," Draco warned. "Remember? I told you I have only used words to wound."
"Well," Hermione said seriously. "I cannot say I hate your methods of avoiding speech," she waggled her eyebrows and Draco sniggered. "But if you want something that lasts...you have to be able to talk to me, and I to you, and we both need to remember to listen."
Draco looked doubtful. "What does that even mean?" he asked.
"I want to know all the trivial details of your life," Hermione elaborated with a wave of her hand. The barkeep came around again and refreshed their glasses and Hermione put in a couple orders of fish and chips. "And the not so trivial," she continued. "If and when you want to share with me. I like you...Draco. It scares me, but I feel happy when you're around and I sort of want to hold on to that." Hermione took another sip and looked at him expectantly.
"Pretty words," Draco said, but a smile played on his lips. The thought of him making someone happy just by being around? Silly, to say the least. To make Hermione Granger happy just be being around? "Are we still on that other planet we were talking about awhile back?"
Hermione grinned widely. "Maybe. Is there any trivial detail you want to know about me?"
just then the food came and Hermione ordered a tamer ale to go with their meal. Her head was buzzing pleasantly and she could tell Draco was feeling the effects of the stronger drinks as well.
Draco concentrated on a few chips first, having not realized how hungry he was. Finally, he swallowed and looked over at her.
"There was something I sort of always wanted to know, but I don't want you to be insulted," he said to her.
This piqued Hermione's interest. "Oh?"
Draco frowned but continued. "It's just that...I always wondered what it was like, finding out you were a witch. Muggleborns in general, I suppose."
Hermione let out a laugh of relief and Draco relaxed. "That's it?"
"It's not like I have anything to go off of," Draco defended himself.
"You've never asked anyone else before?" Hermione was incredulous.
"Well, Granger," Draco stuck another chip in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. "You're really the first muggleborn I've ever had an extensive conversation with that was not about homework."
"That's really too bad," Hermione said seriously. "We really are a fascinating species."
"I'm sure," Draco rolled his eyes.
"Hmmm," Hermione put her chin in her hand and gazed out at something Draco couldn't see. "I found out I was a witch shortly after my 11th birthday. My birthday is September 19th, so I had just missed the cutoff for the previous school year. Professor Dumbledore arrives at my parents house on a gloomy Saturday, dressed as a respectable muggle gentleman. I didn't recognize him at first when I saw him next at Hogwarts. I'll never forget those purple robes. In any case, he introduced himself as Professor, and then, in my parent's sitting room, told me I was special."
Draco noticed a tear escape the corner of Hermione's eye. Without thinking he reached out and brushed it away. Hermione smiled at him and continued.
"Of course it took some convincing," Hermione remembered. "I wonder if it ever got tiresome, explaining and proving to muggles over and over again that you are not a lunatic, and their child isn't mental. He turned one of my mother's favorite throw pillows into a dove, the dove shed a feather and the feather turned into my Hogwarts supplies list. After he turned the dove back into a pillow he explained that should I accept the offer an official from the Hogwarts branch of the Ministry of Magic would be along to take my parents to Diagon Ally. My father was upset he was unable to visit the school. It's enchanted, of course, against muggles. Even the parents of witches and wizards cannot comprehend Hogwarts. They loved Diagon Ally, though, and they were proud of me and what I was then."
Hermione looked sad then, remembering the happy time with her parents. Draco reached out and held her hand. "Did you know? I mean..before Dumbledore told you?"
Hermione was still looking out at nothing. "Strange things happened sometimes," she said. "When I was mad or upset. I turned a boy's hair green when I was six. I think I turned a pair of my mother's slippers into mice once. She never did find them again," Hermione laughed. "I had forgotten about that."
Draco smiled. "I was a lot more destructive," he admitted. "Maybe it's because I knew what I was. I knew I could get mad and get away with it." He then grinned mischievously. "The house elves had a full time job keeping me from leveling the manor."
"How many house elves do you have?" Hermione asked out of curiosity.
"Five now," Draco answered. "Father was furious to lose Dobby."
"He deserved to," Hermione said venomously. "He treated him atrociously. You have five others? Why didn't they interfere with your father's plans?"
"Dobby is something of an oddity," Draco answered.
"Was," Hermione corrected him and finally caught his gaze. "Didn't you know? He died after escaped your manor."
"Dobby's dead?" Draco didn't sound upset or concerned, merely curious.
"Saving us," Hermione answered. "Bellatrix threw a knife...it hit him. Harry buried him outside one of our safe houses."
Draco remained quiet. He knew the waters were troubled, he didn't know what to say.
"I hate the concept of house elves," Hermione told him bluntly. "I hate their enslavement. I hate how wizards and witches treat them. I hate everything about it."
"It's not as simple as that," Draco argued. "House elves, in general, do not feel they are enslaved. It's a part of their personality to feel joy in helping their masters."
"They are living, thinking, feeling beings," Hermione shot back. "How is there anything right about enslaving them?"
"It's old magic," Draco explained and tried to keep an open mind to Hermione's point of view. "Back when magic was persecuted. People died. Magical creatures died. You have noticed there's only a very few select places where unicorns can be found? The same can be said for any magical creature, including house elves. When the muggles began killing, killing anything strange or different to them, do you think the house elves were spared? They were slaughtered. Wizards came together to protect themselves and other magical creatures. They created a spell that would ward off burning and enchanted forests and clearings for magical creatures and animals. House elves, however, are aptly named. They are not wild, they do not do well in a forest or wilderness. They love old houses and are quite domestic. They enjoy cleaning things and they love to cook and experiment with different dishes. When the wizards and witches of old realized the house elf population was dying out they brought them into their homes. This included Hogwarts. There the house elves then flourished. After a few generations had passed the house elves became attached to their homes, and their children and their children's children. Old magic brought them to us, and old magic is what keeps them enjoying what it is they do. My father may have mistreated Dobby, but most elves are happy, I promise you."
Hermione drank in the story with a scholarly interest. "Why have I not read about this?" Hermione asked. "I've done extensive research on the subject. I've never heard of witches and wizards being kind care givers before."
"What have you read?" Draco asked.
"Spells and enchantments keep the house elves enslaved," Hermione responded. "And I've seen with my own eyes this is true."
"But did the research ever tell you what spells and enchantments?" Draco asked.
"Well," Hermione actually found herself floundering for a moment. "Not specifically."
"Exactly," Draco said triumphantly. "You're reading biased opinions written by biased persons. If you want all the information, the good and the bad...the library at the manor has that. I can show you."
"Not biased?" Hermione asked skeptically.
"I've found both, in my readings," Draco said. "But both point to the history I just explained. It's not really a black and white issue. It's not a matter of one species dominating another, it's about two species working together to survive."
Hermione breathed. "I would truly love that."
Draco felt the rush of triumph once more. He would show Hermione that the manor didn't have to be full of horror and tarnished memories. He would appeal to her love of knowledge...and then perhaps work his way from there.
"Would you like to go back?" He suggested. "I can write my mother. Perhaps, if you're not quite up to it, we can visit just the library. You don't have to do anything you don't want to."
Hermione smiled at him gratefully. "I think you know I would enjoy that too much to pass the opportunity up."
"Slytherin," Draco said simply. He stood and offered her his arm. Hermione placed the money for the remainder of their bill on the counter and they exited the pub.
Fifteen minutes later they were back in Draco's room. Hermione marveled for probably the hundredth time the wonders of Apparation. Draco grinned at her and moved to his sidebar. Without asking he poured her another drink and one for himself.
"Draco, there's a letter on your bed," Hermione pointed out, confused.
Draco looked at the bed and then to a corner of his room. His mother's owl was perched in the cage vacated by his own owl that took roost in the Hogwarts owlry.
"It's from my mother," he said and crossed the room to the bed.
Hermione sipped at her drink and watched as Draco's face went from mildly curious, to stone, to nothing.
"It's my father," Draco looked up. "He's dead."
(A/N) Woooo. I was aiming for fluffy, but I'm not sure if that's possible with Dramione. I apologize if there are are major typos/spelling errors. My spell check literally stopped working. How's that for an excuse? It's true! Ha, anyway, I really enjoyed exploring where house elves may have originated from. I also really enjoy writing the delicate balance as Hermione and Draco get to understand and know one another. The next chapter is going to be a doosey, obviously, but I'm pretty pumped to write it. Thanks to my anonymous asker(s) on Tumblr, I'm really flattered you take the time to ask me how things are coming! If you want to follow me and my mindless ramblings I'm arielxwriter on Tumblr and I'll be happy to answer just about any question personal or story related (as long as it doesn't ruin the story!) No one has guessed who's behind the Maliceptor yet, so I'm just throwing the person into chapters all willy nilly now ;) Please review! I'd love to know what you think!