Hello readers!
I know it's been a while but here I am again with a new chapter! I want to thank my beta readers for helping me with this chapter. I would not have been able to do it without them!
Beta Readers:
- OxfordElise (link to her AO3 page: /users/OxfordElise/pseuds/OxfordElise), for helping me on this chapter as a beta reader. She is a fantastic writer and has an ongoing Dramione fanfic being posted on AO3 (link: /works/16995036/chapters/39951819 ) called "Better than Revenge" that I recommend you check out!
- Madikejla (Please find her using this username on AO3)
- Myrrh and Benzoin
Otherwise, I also want to thank you all for reading and supporting my story!
And now, enjoy :)
Chapter 14 - Moonlight Musings
To say that Draco Malfoy's day had been long would be an understatement.
His day had been tumultuous.
The familiar surroundings of the Slytherin dormitory provided a sense of refuge, but Draco couldn't shake the weight of the day's events. The green velvet curtains offered a semblance of privacy, shutting out the world as he opened his journal. The quill scratched against the parchment, his tired eyes squinting as he penned a message to Hermione.
Arwen,
I'm in Isengard. Had a rough day. I hope you had a better one.
Aragorn.
Closing the journal, he placed it beside him, sighing as he sank into the plushness of his pillow. The silk pyjamas, usually a source of comfort, and the warmth of the familiar comforter failed to ease the turmoil within him. Instead of finding the embrace of sleep, what awaited him instead was an indefinite stretch of time spent laying there, staring at the ceiling, his mind anxiously awaiting Hermione's response.
The silence in the dormitory seemed to amplify the echoes of the day's events still reverberating in his mind. The weight of his mission, the confrontation with Ron Weasley, and the tangled emotions surrounding Hermione left him restless. Time seemed to stretch; each passing moment felt like an eternity, and the anticipation of Hermione's words lingered in the air.
As he lay there in the dimly lit room, more thoughts raced through his mind, mostly of his mother. Narcissa Malfoy, a woman of strength and resilience, faced her own set of challenges in the dark corridors of Malfoy Manor. Narcissa was not one to display the extent of her magical prowess openly, choosing to keep her cards close to her chest. In her pride, loyalty, and love for her family, she wielded her magic discreetly, unlike her older sister Bellatrix, whose fanaticism was known far and wide. Slytherin to the core, Narcissa chose subtlety, playing the game with finesse and cunning. Yet, even her intelligence and skill couldn't shield her from the clutches of the Dark Lord, who had turned her once-opulent home into a gilded cage.
The image of his mother, confined within the now sinister walls of Malfoy Manor, haunted Draco's thoughts. The looming presence of Death Eaters, and the ominous figure of her jailer, made his worry for her well-being all the more acute. He pictured her, a lone figure navigating the treacherous landscape of her own residence, constantly having to look over her shoulder.
His father, on the other hand, was in prison in the more traditional sense of the word. But while Azkaban was far from adequate for the sensibilities of a man as well-bred and refined as Lucius Malfoy, it was at least far away from the clutches of the homicidal maniac he had called his master. In that way, yes, Lucius Malfoy was better off, the dementors surely presenting less of a threat compared to a disappointed Dark Lord who will have relished in torturing him and probably killing him.
In the solitude of his dormitory, Draco's concerns for Hermione blended with the deeper, familial anxieties that gripped him. The two worlds, one of personal turmoil and the other of the broader conflict, collided in the recesses of his mind. The night, usually a sanctuary for rest, became a canvas for the intricate clash of events that defined his existence.
His thoughts oscillated between the immediate challenges he faced and the distant struggles of his mother. The complexities of loyalty, duty, and love interwove, creating a tangled web that Draco found himself caught in. As he lay there, staring at the canopy above, he wished for a moment of respite—a pause in the relentless cascade of concerns that besieged him.
The journal lay open beside him, a physical reminder of his inner turmoil. With every passing moment, the anticipation of Hermione's response grew, yet a part of him yearned for a connection beyond the written words. Despite all the chaos, the time spent with her during winter break was a blessing. Draco recalled the way she held his hand as she guided him through the crowded underground train, the way her eyes shone when they entered the British Library, the way she bit her lower lip when she was focused on the many tomes and journals they had open during their research sessions…the way her body had felt under his as he trailed kisses down her pale and inviting neck…
Was he ever going to sleep tonight?
Finally, a familiar soft light began emitting from the journal. He quickly grabbed it, opening it to reveal her response:
Aragorn,
I am sad to hear that your day hasd been difficult. Mine hasn't been easy either, the loneliness is creeping up on me. Please keep writing to me, as I will to you.
I miss you already.
Arwen.
Draco fell asleep smiling that night.
Hermione Granger was angry with herself.
She hadn't meant to write that she missed him. As she stared at the response she had just sent to Draco, a mixture of frustration and vulnerability washed over her. The words, though honest, felt like an admission of a weakness she wasn't ready to confront. The loneliness that had crept into her life for the past few months made it feel like it had been years that she had been in isolation.
She sighed, sitting alone in her room at the cottage. The dim light of her bedside lamp illuminated the pages of her favorite book opened in front of her, but her attention was elsewhere. The journal lay beside her, a tangible connection to someone who seemed both near and far. The complexities of their interactions, the tangled emotions, and the uncertain future left her grappling with a storm of conflicting feelings.
Her mind replayed moments from their time together during break—the crowded train rides, the shared glances in the library, and the stolen, quiet moments when they immersed themselves in research, and more recently, in each other.
She blushed as she recalled the memory of their entwined bodies, the warmth of his lips on hers, and the intensity of their connection lingered in her thoughts, sending shivers up her spine. The abrupt interruption had left an unfulfilled ache within her, a longing that mirrored the gravity of their current situation.
As she replayed the stolen moments in her mind, she couldn't help but wonder about their burgeoning connection. Draco Malfoy was the last person on earth she thought she would give her firsts to. The Malfoy she knew from school was always arrogant, vain, and pranced around thinking he is better than everyone else. That Malfoy had called her a mudblood for the first time in her second year, and had made her cry countless times-
Yet, Hermione gasped as a quote from the book currently on her lap stormed into her mind:
'I could more easily forgive his vanity had he not wounded mine.'
That's what Elizabeth Bennet had said after overhearing Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy's cruel comment about her at the town ball.
Surely, I can't be comparing Draco to Mr. Darcy! Stop it Hermione! – the witch told herself as her cheeks reddened – Malfoy was always so deliberate in hurting me with his words!
But he was a child – She found herself thinking – An indoctrinated boy who didn't know any better…
Since that fateful day in August when he saved her and her parents, the Draco Malfoy ingrained in her school memories was undergoing a gradual transformation. It dawned on her that not once, post that pivotal moment, had he directed a sneer her way or cast insults upon her character, existence, or merit. Quite the opposite, he had, in fact, freely acknowledged her brilliance. Yet while her friends did so all the time, Draco had not done it in an effort to convince her to help him or to do something for him. Actually, Draco almost always had to be persuaded to even entertain the idea of her aiding him in a quest. Was it because that would reveal their ruse? Was it because he was protective of her-
No Hermione, you are reading way too much into this!
Yet, she couldn't stop herself from remembering what he had said to her when she tried to convince him to take her with him to muggle London.
'I don't want anything to happen to you.'
Hermione fell asleep smiling that night.
The next morning, Hermione woke up with a renewed sense of purpose, despite her seclusion from the outside world. She hastily wrote a message to Draco while eating her breakfast.
Dear Aragorn,
Do you have any details about Gilraen's predicament?
Best,
Arwen
She tapped her fingers impatiently on the wooden kitchen tabletop while munching on a piece of buttered toast until the journal shone again. She quickly opened it to read Draco's message:
Dear Arwen,
From what I was able to piece together, it could work like a tracking spell… but permanent. However, I do not know how the person then perishes upon stepping outside the limits, because I don't know anything else about the curse. Sauron cast it wordlessly. But according to Gilraen, the "color" of the magic was a dark purple, a sign of dark magic native to the British Isles.
If you need any books for research that you do not already have, you know what to do.
Best,
Aragorn
Hermione did not need to be told twice.
She rushed into the cottage study and began to pour over the many books that adorned its shelves. There were a handful of them that could contain information about curses, and so she got to work.
Hours turned into days as she immersed herself in the dusty tomes. The musty smell of old parchment filled the air as she flipped through pages, jotting down notes and cross-referencing information. The isolation of the cottage became a mere background as she delved into the world of dark magic, searching for clues that could help the Malfoy matriarch.
On the fourth day, she realized her eyes were getting tired and her mind was beginning to feel clouded with dark magic. At times, she glanced out of the study window, the serene landscape outside providing a stark contrast to the macabre content of the books laid out in front of her. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the room, but Hermione remained steadfast in her pursuit of a solution.
As the night settled in, she stumbled upon a fragment of text in an ancient grimoire that seemed promising. The text described a curse similar to what Draco had relayed, mentioning the concept of a binding spell with lethal consequences upon leaving a designated area. It was a rare and dangerous form of magic, one that required great skill and malevolence to cast. Unfortunately, the spell was just mentioned in passing as a practice from the Middle Ages, where the curse would be used on maidens to avoid elopement. Neither, the name of the spell itself, nor the way it worked, was mentioned.
Hermione felt a jolt of shock and disgust at the cruelty of such a ritual. The idea of magic being used to control and harm innocent individuals, particularly young women and girls, left her appalled.
The pieces of the puzzle were slowly coming together, and while she still did not know what the curse was, she was one step closer to finding out, and that gave her hope.
With that newfound information in hand, she returned to her research, fueled with determination and eagerness to unlock further clues about the curse.
To Draco Malfoy, everything seemed irrelevant.
Classes were a mere blur, not that he tried to pay any attention to them. Quidditch was background noise, and he could not have cared less about mounting his broom and donning his uniform anytime soon. Meals in the Great Hall were mundane and tasteless, not that he spent a second longer than necessary at the Slytherin table.
Nothing mattered.
Except for that damned cabinet.
Draco had lost count of the hours spent in the Room of Requirement, his sole focus on the vanishing cabinet he was tasked to mend. Time seemed to stretch with every removal of the black sheet that veiled the monstrosity. His silvery gray eyes fixated on the mirrored patterns carved on its double doors, the fading sheen of its ebony, the intricate details that once spoke of its craftsmanship, now marred by scars of neglect.
The accursed cabinet stood as a tangible symbol of someone else's choices thrust upon him, a stark reflection of sacrifices he never wished to make.
His Adam's apple bobbed with suppressed emotion as he swallowed hard, his fingers gliding over the cold, engraved patterns. It was as if he traced the lines of a predetermined path, one laid out for him without his consent.
Every creak, every shadow that danced across the surface of the aged wood seemed to whisper tales of a world he was intricately tied to—a world that demanded his allegiance as much as it demanded him being sacrificed on the altar of family and duty.
The Dark Lord may have split his soul into however-many horcruxes, but at that moment, his own soul felt just as fractured.
The cabinet was destined to serve as a clandestine passage between Hogwarts and 'Borgin and Burkes'. Death Eaters were slated to infiltrate a school teeming with children through its ominous doors. It was not just a crime; it was a death sentence for anyone who dared to obstruct the Dark Lord's path, and Draco Malfoy was horrified to find himself cast in the role of the executioner.
He was to kill Albus Dumbledore, and he was to endanger every student in Hogwarts while doing it.
It was unspeakable. It was shameful. It was morose.
Yet he found himself spending almost all of his time working tirelessly on repairing the blasted thing.
The isolation of the Room of Requirement mirrored the isolation Draco felt within himself. The world outside carried on with its usual hustle and bustle, but within those four walls? Time and existence seemed suspended. The vanishing cabinet became a reflection of his internal struggles—a space where the boundaries between right and wrong, loyalty and rebellion, blurred into an indistinct amalgamation.
Draco's hands moved with expert precision, each twist of the wrench, each careful adjustment, each swish of his wand a reflection of the delicate dance he performed in his own life. He couldn't escape the realization that fixing the cabinet wasn't just a task assigned to him; it was a redemption for his family and a damnation for his spirit.
The cabinet's eerie silence was occasionally interrupted by the soft echo of footsteps or the boisterous sound of laughter in the corridor outside. Draco's heart would skip a beat, anticipating an intrusion or discovery. Was he really on the path of condemnation, or was he already doomed to hell?
Everywhere was hell.
Everywhere but with her.
And that journal was currently his only gateway to heaven.
Hermione hadn't previously paid much attention to the stars visible from her bedroom window, but on this particular night, their brilliance demanded acknowledgment.
The gentle glow of starlight washed over her lightly freckled face as she raised her fingers to the windowpane, tracing a particular constellation that shone so brightly in the Transylvanian winter sky.
The Draco constellation, a celestial representation of a dragon, unfolded above her in a cosmic display. She thought the stars seemed to dance in a formation, mirroring the intricate patterns of the treacherous maze that had engulfed their very human namesake.
As her fingertip followed the celestial contours, Hermione's mind wandered again to the connection she shared with Draco.
The creature of the constellation was symbolic of both danger and strength, and Hermione realized how fittingly named Draco Malfoy was.
The dragon in the night sky may have witnessed eons of struggle, but the dragon she knew… continuous struggle seemed like the keystone of his very existence.
He had written to her every night, without fault. He had confided in her and entrusted her with every detail their coded language allowed. The Room of Requirement, the vanishing cabinet, and the weight of his impending choices…all of it painted such a dark tapestry, one in stark contrast to the serene starlit scene outside her window. While not particularly religious, or spiritual in any way, Hermione hoped that the constellation, with its ethereal glow, was watching over him. Perhaps it was his guardian? Or was it just a silent witness to the burdens he bore?
Unbeknownst to Hermione, Draco found himself gazing at the same constellation from the Astronomy Tower. The stars that painted a peaceful story for Hermione served as a silent audience to Draco's internal maelstrom.
As Hermione traced the Draco constellation from her window, she unwittingly connected with the way his eyes trailed that very same pattern.
The cold late January air rushed through the threads of his platinum hair as he breathed it in, its frostiness burning in his throat. He had not yet written to her that night, so he unfurled the journal from where it was tucked under his thigh.
That was when Hermione felt a gentle warmth next to her hand on the reading nook where she sat. Her journal shone with a soft golden hue, and she quickly opened it to reveal Draco's message:
Dear Arwen,
I hope your night is lighter than mine. I fear I am bound to a fate I cannot escape. It's in the blood that courses through my veins. How am I to face an evil that countless others have attempted to defeat, only to perish miserably while trying?
Please tell me you won't leave me. Any hope I am still holding onto is by your benediction.
Aragorn
Draco Malfoy had not let his occlumency walls down in what felt like ages. And now that they had crumbled into rubble, his eyes glistened with unshed tears, like diamonds in the moonlight.
His hand moved to wipe them away before they dared to fall, but then, his journal glowed and warmed beside him.
Dear Aragorn,
I am with you. I will stay with you, and I will stand by you.
'Your time will come. You will face the same evil, and you will defeat it.'
Yours,
Arwen
And that is it for this chapter! Please let me know your thoughts in your reviews!
Until next time!
Cleo26