BOOK ONE
Part 2
She opened her eyes in a blink. A stretch of pink and hazy grey, vaguely reminiscent of a potion cauldron's surface, welcomed her. It took her a few seconds of disorientation to realise that she was observing a sort of psychedelic sky. She brought a hand to her head; she must have hit it when she fell. The fabric of her clothes was soaked through the sleeves and the back, and the tangle of curly hair clung to her neck and face, wet and heavy. What the hell had happened? Where was she? Malfoy had captured her, she remembered with a knot in her stomach; he was going to take her to Voldemort and then… She shook her head and slowly got up while taking a look around.
She didn't know what overwhelmed her more; the vision itself or not knowing how to categorise that tangle of purple and blue vegetation forming extensive curtains of ivy around her, of trees growing downward, hanging from rock ledges that reached twenty metres high. She was in a sort of clearing surrounded by those mounds of black rock, whose uneven surface had narrow crevices filled with what appeared to be glowing mould. Despite the precarious lighting, she could make out some details: such as the old-looking vines hanging from the tree tops, or the elongated mushrooms that emerged from the shallow pool covering most of the clearing, clustering here and there, among large pearlescent shells the size of two hands and swirls of dimness that the light couldn't quite dispel. Suddenly, a colourful fish emerged from the water; with a leap, it spread its wide, delicate wings, like those of a butterfly, and took flight. Marvelled, Hermione followed its path with her gaze until the strange creature disappeared beyond the concave rock ledges, into a cloudless sky, the only blemish in its pristine expanse a small whitish sphere. The bright flash of this could not penetrate sufficiently into that gloomy, humidity-laden environment. Hermione spun on her heels just as a gentle breeze brought a smell of sulphur and rust. Curiously, the lack of sound was the most unsettling thing about it all. It no longer sparked.
Yet, nothing worried her as much as discovering Lucius Malfoy a few metres away, getting to his feet with a stagger. The man must have been dragged along with her through that strange tree. A portal, Hermione understood, fascinated; an organic portal. But where to? Somehow, she had her suspicions. She raised her wand, taking advantage of Malfoy still orienting himself, and disarmed him with a firm experiallmus. Or that was her intention. Malfoy turned towards her, alerted by her voice, frozen for a moment wand in hand, as if expecting it to fly out. Nothing happened. Hermione stepped back, anxious. Why hadn't it worked?
"Experiallmus!" she repeated. "Anteoculatia!"
But no matter how many spells or curses she tried to cast against her enemy, none seemed to have any effect. Malfoy hissed between his teeth on one occasion, when Hermione tried to hit him with an especially dangerous curse, as if he feared for a moment to be aggravated by it. He had a temperament of enviable impassivity, however, because beyond that hiss, he made no attempt to protect himself. More than a little convinced, apparently, that her spells were not going to work. His growing hyena smile didn't last too long to Hermione's delight, as he himself checked that hers was not the only useless magic in that place.
"It's this place," said Hermione, somewhat more relaxed. Malfoy, devoid of magic, Death Eater or not, was something she could deal with. Still, she knew she would do well to stay away; she wouldn't have a chance to beat him hand-to-hand. "It's hard to know for sure, but the feeling is... it's as if we had entered the Faerie Lands."
"But of course. What fortune is mine to be able to count on the invaluable help of a know-it-all Mudblood. Draco mentioned that you were like this."
Hermione did not rise to his bait.
"I've read."
"Indeed," he replied disdainfully.
The high rock structures that covered much of the sky stretched out in some points, creating small, deep pathways like caves that meandered until lost among the inverted trunks of the trees and more black stone. Hermione walked with her feet sinking into the water, which had a faint pink glow, like the sky itself, and she stooped to examine some particles of fluorescent mould that grew in the cracks; all without losing sight of Malfoy from the corner of her eye. The fluorescence was not only luminous but also released a faint cloud of bright dust, like a halo enveloping the particles. Cautiously, she dipped a finger into the padded mantle of mould. Bringing the pink-stained tip to her nose, a candy fragrance assaulted her. By Merlin, she was not mistaken. This was undoubtedly the sweet mould of Annwn. She had ended up in one of the portals to the Otherworld, the underground land of the fairies that coexisted with the human world. Her head spun with the implications of it all, an ominous omen began to take root within her.
"It's okay, Hermione, calm down, think," she whispered to herself, furrowing her brow. "If the history books are right, time is different in Annwn, so..."
A splashing sound coming from where Malfoy was drew her from her thoughts. He had headed towards one of the shadow-wrapped paths and was scrutinising it coldly, his nose slightly wrinkled. Hermione quickly weighed her options before making a decision.
"We should call a truce," she said, not allowing the other's grim look to intimidate her. As Malfoy arched an eyebrow, she continued to elaborate her point. "Look, I think I'm not mistaken in saying that both you and I want to get back to the outside. As much as you despise my nature, it can't be more important than your family. Or your life."
Malfoy grimaced, which to Hermione seemed like a macabre mockery of a smile.
"Perhaps you underestimate my aversion to filth."
"I know you don't want your wife and son to be punished in your place for a new mistake of yours," she spoke rapidly and confidently, even as she noticed how his facial muscles tensed and he began to walk slowly towards her. "We are in the underground world of the fairies, in lands whose mysteries have not even been fully covered by the greatest historians of the magical world. On top of that, we are without magic, right now we are not much different from those Muggles you so despise. But," Malfoy stopped a mere metre away, his smoky-coloured eyes narrowed, "I have experience getting out of trouble without using magic. After all, I was raised among Muggles."
Malfoy clicked his tongue almost as if he had been disappointed. His lax attitude, however, was not reflected in his gaze, which sharp and cunning like that of a hawk did not shift from Hermione for a second.
She lifted her chin and added, "I've read too."
"You're starting to repeat yourself, girl. Better choose your words more carefully."
"About these lands," she clarified. "I have a better idea than you about knowing the paths; we must at all costs avoid venturing into the territories of the Unseelie Court." It seemed Malfoy was going to retort, but Hermione beat him to it: "Moreover, if you kill me or leave me to my fate, even if you managed to get out of here, you couldn't deliver me to him. And that is, without doubt, your best scenario. Otherwise, you could have finished me off long ago. No, your Lord does not need me alive, but I am certainly a good prize..."
Malfoy grabbed her hair with such force that it elicited a scream from her. Suddenly, his expression was marred by anger.
"Don't think for a second that I don't see how you weave your plans in that little head of yours," he growled with rage, almost like an animal, against her ear. "Repugnant subspecies that does not know its place. If I were you... I would kneel at this very moment begging to be killed. Anything would be more merciful than the fate that awaits you at the hands of the Dark Lord."
His long fingers twisted in her hair, increasing the tension at the roots to the point that her eyes watered from the sting, but she avoided showing any further sign of weakness. Her muscles were tense, her senses alert to deliver a precise blow to his most delicate parts and run away if necessary, despite the special circumstances of their situation. She ran her tongue over her lips, a cold sweat had begun to trail down her neck. She then looked up and found herself inches from Malfoy's face. Something changed in his gaze then, a slight variation in the impermeability of his grey eyes that Hermione did not have time to assess.
"It's clear we both have our plans," she replied instead, unable to avoid sounding slightly hysterical; she had not overlooked how surreal the conversation was, however, the little time she had to stop and reflect played in her favour to move forward, like a bull. "Even so, you know I haven't said anything that isn't true. It's as much in your interest as it is in mine to work together now. Whether you leave on your own or decide to kill me, in no case will you be able to deliver me to your Lord and regain his favour."
It wasn't anger, of that she was sure. It wasn't anger that lurked behind Lucius Malfoy's gaze right now, at least not anger in its purest essence, as it had been moments ago.
He's evaluating me, Hermione realised, proud despite herself to believe she could discern a certain respect in the other man. She had never aspired to earn the respect of a human being as devoid of scruples as Malfoy was, yet her desire to impress seemed to have no moral boundaries; it made her unable to resist that pinch of personal satisfaction that came with being recognized (in a twisted way) by an adult who certainly lacked no intellect. Malfoy studied her in silence for a few moments; Hermione could almost feel his paced breathing in the stillness of the place, almost could feel it on her skin.
"In light of such an exorbitant turn of events, one must wonder what someone like you gains by negotiating under such terms," Malfoy's tone was as gentle when he resumed speaking as were his caresses over the lock of hair he still held, as soft as the worst death threat. It gave her goosebumps. Malfoy must have noticed her fear, for a proud sparkle flashed in his eyes. "Or is it that your fears of the fairy beings are rooted deeper than those you have of the Dark Lord? How much... audacity," he said at the same time as he opened his hand, releasing her hair.
Hermione crawled away from him, caring little how frightened she might appear, and how that belied her hard-won composure. She breathed a couple of times before standing up.
"Then we have a deal."
"Indeed," he concluded, smiling stiffly.
She herself began to doubt her sanity. Surely fairies couldn't be worse than Lucius Malfoy. But Malfoy, at least, was vaguely familiar territory, and as the saying goes: better the devil you know than the devil you don't. Of course, it wasn't a deal she could have proposed to just any Death Eater, because although Malfoy was one of the worst, one of the most vile and repugnant, he was not a bloodthirsty, suffering-mad lunatic. Certainly, he was not Bellatrix Lestrange. And Hermione did not want to gamble with the treacherous nature of the fairies. They would have more chances being two, or so she tried to tell herself. Besides, the rules of the fairy world were curious at best; often twisted. And if Hermione's memory served her right... No, but she wasn't sure. For now, she just hoped the man thought the same, that he really needed her alive. That, and that they were in the Seelie region.
For a few minutes, even with her nerves on edge and unsure about her own decision, Hermione focused all her concentration on evaluating the various paths based on the vegetation, guided by the limited knowledge she had acquired from books. When she pointed out one of them, the most hidden and discreet, which descended in a notable slope, Hermione made sure to never lose sight of Malfoy.
Neither his expression nor his body posture betrayed absolutely anything.
Hermione sighed inwardly. One thing was by the book: she could not afford the luxury of letting her guard down. Although, on reflection, that was something that had already been part of her life for the last few months.