Prompt 83 - The Underground - "Frozen In Time"- ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
spikespetslayer
Feb. 23rd, 2008 11:39 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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tamingthemuseTitle: Frozen In Time
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger
Warnings: none
Rating: PG
Summary: Even the brightest witch of the age couldn't escape a trap set years in advance by one devious Malfoy.
She was trapped.
Cold, wandless, in darkness that was so complete that she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face, she was ensnared so completely that she couldn’t move. Her toes were numb, tingling painfully despite the thick socks and sensible shoes that she had worn that morning. She could feel her fingertips succumbing to the cold as well as she shivered in the depths of the hidden room in the center of the Malfoy library.
She had been assigned to catalogue the Dark magic texts in the confiscated library two days ago by the Ministry. As one of the official Ministry librarians, she had nearly been overcome with uncharacteristic excitement at the thought of being chosen for such an auspicious task. It was well known that the Malfoy library had the most extensive collection of Dark texts that were privately owned; she would have the first look at what could prove to be one of the most effective weapons against future Dark wizards who thought that they would take over the wizarding world.
She had made her way through the first shelf of books when she had the misfortune to pull out the wrong book. When she did, a hole opened beneath her and she plummeted down until she finally hit bottom indeterminable yards below.
She realized when she reached into her pocket that her wand remained on the desk, only seconds before the hole above her closed and left her in the pitch black darkness.
She let her mind drift away from her body, too tired to fight the cold, magic, and exhaustion that threatened to overtake her for the moment.
~*~
She was back at Hogwarts again somehow. Dreamlike wraiths of students past, present, and future wandered the halls with her as she glided across the Entrance Hall. She saw Harry, Ron, and herself as they were when they were fifteen, young and idealistic and far too narrow-minded for their own good. Malfoy, Pansy, and Zabini followed them, watching them closely. She saw a variety of things in their eyes. Longing, need, lust—she couldn’t believe that she never noticed the feelings that roiled beneath the surface of the “Evil Trio” as they haunted their steps.
When they got to the Great Hall, however, instead of shadowing Ron and Harry's steps she decided to shadow the other trio, the evil trio. They sat down at the Slytherin table and stared in the direction of the Gryffindor table across the hall, their eyes never leaving the group that laughed outrageously, talked incessantly, and associated with everyone that approached them.
They were isolated, insular, and alone. She noticed that they spoke only to one another, never to anyone outside of Slytherin. They spent their time glaring at the Hufflepuffs, sneering at the Ravenclaws, and envying the Gryffindors.
Blaise suddenly spoke. “She’s bloody gorgeous, that one! I don’t know why you don’t try to snag a piece of that, Draco. If anything, you’d be a god among the Slytherins for tapping that Gryff’s ass, for sure.”
Draco flipped his hair out of his eyes and glared at his friend. “You know exactly why I keep my distance, Blaise. Don’t push it.”
She must have drawn too close to him to look into his eyes as he spoke because he startled and drew away from her then reached out, as if to grab an Invisibility Cloak from thin air.
Pansy noticed and frowned. “What’s wrong, Draco?”
“Nothing. It must be nothing. Come on, there’s nothing going on in here. Let’s head back to the Common Room.”
Hermione looked longingly over toward the laughing group, following their stares. Instead of going over to listen in, she followed the Evil Trio down to the Slytherin Common Room.
The door was hidden behind a plain statue of nothing in particular—some kind of magical beast whose name eluded her for the moment. Malfoy whispered the password and it swung aside to let them in. Her ghostly footsteps followed and she took in the view of the Slytherin Common Room, the first Gryffindor to do so in ages.
She expected it to be dark and dank, sinister and frightening. What she found was a warm, welcoming room that seemed just as homey and comforting as her own. Done in greens and grays instead of red and gold, it exuded the feeling of family and companionship. It wasn’t the Dark Revel that she had always thought it would be.
Malfoy crossed the room and sat in a large leather armchair. He was quickly thronged with students, some with troubles and some just seeking his attention. A first year that was having difficulty in Charms was sent over to speak with Blaise who treated the youngster with warmth and kindness. Another, a second-year girl, was talking to Draco about some teasing from some Hufflepuff first years. She was dispatched to Pansy for advice and girltalk.
When all the students’ needs were met, he left the Common Room and went to his own quarters. Intrigued, she followed close behind to find him already stretched out on a four-poster bed with green curtains and linens looking at a picture in the palm of his hand.
“I wish things were different,” he said to the picture. Before she could catch a glimpse of it, it was stowed away and she was colder than she ever believed she could tolerate…
~*~
Hermione came to and hit her head on the wall behind her as she jerked her head up. The space had grown smaller since she’d been unconscious; she could barely move her arms now.
She wrapped her arms around herself and hugged her body tight. She couldn’t tell how much time had passed or what time of day it was. Her stomach growled and she realized it had been a long time since her rushed cup of tea and plain bagel that she had crammed in her face that morning. Her feet were so cold that they hurt; the cold burned now and she could no longer feel her feet. Her legs were numb as were her fingers and she brought them close to her mouth and blew warm breath on them. They tingled painfully and she stopped, tucking her hands under her arms to warm them in her armpits.
Her head lolled on her neck, too heavy to hold up as she stood pressed against the wall. She could have made a sound, a muffled groan as she leaned her head back to rest against the wall behind her, unconsciously pressing against the bump that was growing on the back of her skull.
Darkness pressed against her eyes and she let it take her down without a fight.
~*~
She was at Hogwarts again. The battle was over and done with, the walls of the Great Hall crumbling after the intense amount of spellcasting done within its walls. She was near the group of redheads that mourned the falling of one of their own; it was strange to watch them from the outside of their close-knit circle instead of being included in the group as she had been on that day.
She could sense the exhaustion dragging her down, pulling her toward the transfigured cots that lined the walls for the wounded. She watched as she pulled herself away from the wailing Weasleys and walked between the remaining House tables and the survivors from the battle.
She noticed Malfoy and his parents sitting apart from everyone, still projecting an air of exclusiveness, although Narcissa Malfoy dabbed ineffectively at her eyes and Lucius looked like he was near tears himself. Draco simply looked uncomfortable as he sat next to them, attempting to keep himself apart from them without rejecting them outright.
He followed her weary form with his eyes, then leaned over to whisper to his mother. Standing, he followed her out into the Entrance Hall where she slumped on the stairs.
She followed him, curious as to his actions before what happened next. She knew what happened next; she had been there.
He stood in the shadows watching her as the tears dripped down her face to roll off her chin, staining her shirt. She wiped them away with her sleeve, dragging snot and saliva into the fringes of her hair. She watched his face closely as he watched her from the shadows, expecting a sneer or a smirk to cross his face. All she saw in his eyes was a deep, unmeasureable sadness that seemed to imbue him with a sympathetic air that was never a part of his demeanor before this moment.
He stepped forward and cleared his throat to call her attention to his presence. “Granger,” he said, swallowing hard.
When she answered, her voice was tired and world-worn. “What, Malfoy? What could you possibly have to say to me?”
“I’m sorry.”
Hermione's ghost self saw that he truly was sorry. It was written all over his features, from the set of his full lips to the hunched shoulders that she’d never noticed before. She ignored her own self as she stood next to him, watching him like her life depended on it; then again, perhaps it did.
“Sorry for what?” Her voice was flat and emotionless; she remembered feeling so drained and empty after all that had happened that day.
“I’m sorry for what I put you through for so many years. I’m sorry that I never really looked at you as a person. I’m sorry for not helping you that night in my father’s house.”
She remembered waving him off, his apology cast aside. “Don’t worry about it, Malfoy. I never expected anything from you. After all, you’ve never hesitated to remind me that I was only a filthy little Mudblood to you.”
She saw his face fall and his shoulders slope a little more than they had been. “I also needed to thank you for saving me and Goyle from the fiendfyre.”
She leaned her head against the railing of the staircase, too tired to do much of anything in that moment. “Harry and Ron saved you, Malfoy, not me.”
She saw him step forward and extend his hand, something she missed when she leaned heavily on the stairs for support. There was a pleading look on his face, hopeful despite the odds of rejection. “Granger, please. Take my handkerchief.”
She held out her hand and he gave it to her ever so gently. “I’ll get it back to you eventually. I’ll have Dobby wash it first so you’re pureblooded skin doesn’t get contaminated.”
As her memory-self wiped her face, Malfoy turned and left her sitting on the stairs, melting back into the shadows. He leaned against the wall and hunkered down, hugging his knees to him with his arms. He watched her from the shadows until Ron and Harry came to collect her, then returned to his parents’ sides, watching the door of the Great Hall with a longing look that pierced her ghostly heart with it’s pathos.
~*~
Draco dropped by Potter's office on the way out of the Ministry, headed home for the day. As usual, the Boy Wonder was slaving at his desk, paperwork stacked high on either side of him and missives from other Aurors drifting overhead, waiting for his attention.
“Potter, have you seen Granger?” he asked casually, leaning on the edge of his erstwhile coworker.
Distracted, Harry reached up and snagged another paper airplane with his normal Seeker’s grace. “I think that she was cataloguing the Malfoy libraries today, Draco. She was so excited I thought that she would wet herself.”
“She what? And you let her go alone, you dolt? You must be mad!” Draco didn’t realize that he was nearly yelling until he heard the echoes of his own voice bouncing back at him off the walls.
Harry looked up at his fellow auror with a frown. “What are you going on about, Malfoy? This is a routine catalogue—all the Dark Artifacts are in the possession of the Ministry and there’s nothing there that might harm her.”
“Nothing there! Harry, that’s my father’s library that you’re talking about, not the general stacks of Hogwarts. There are protective charms, traps, hexes embedded into the shelves—it isn’t ordinary by any means. What if she’s been hurt? Or killed even? We have to go to the Manor, Harry, now before it’s too late.”
Harry arched his eyebrow at Malfoy, surprised by his concern. “You know, you’re talking about one of the brightest witches of our generation—hell, the last few generations. She knows to check for wards and traps, Malfoy. She’s far from stupid.”
“Have you ever know Hermione to keep her hands off a book? Really, Potter, I thought that you knew your best friend better than that.”
Draco had stood and begun pacing in front of the desk, his hand raking through his straight blond hair. Harry was about to dismiss the entire idea until he ran through Draco’s words again in his mind. Traps…hexes…protective charms. It seemed to hit him all at once and he leaped to his feet, pressing the tip of his wand to the Auror badge on his chest.
“We’ll need backup, Malfoy, and your services. You’re the only one who knows all the problems that she could have encountered. Let’s go.”
With two other Aurors beside themselves, the two worried men Apparated to Malfoy Manor, hell-bent on finding the librarian that should have been safe—if not for the twisted mind of Lucius Malfoy.
~*~
Hermione drifted back to the halcyon days following the War—there were parades and celebrations along with memorials and funerals. There were trials to attend and testify along with the rebuilding of her beloved Hogwarts and the salvaging of the library there.
It was in the quiet of the library that she found her calling, her first love.
She wept over the destroyed sections of the library that the quasi-professors and full-time Death Eaters had deemed ‘unnecessary’. Muggle Studies, Charms, History of Magic—they all had thousands of books that were destroyed by fire, water, and magic. The Restricted Section of the library had been spread among the general stacks and the students that had returned to the school had not gently or reverently treated the ancient tomes that had rested there. There were quill marks in the margins and whole paragraphs blacked out by Merlin knew what spell and she fretted and worried that she would ever get it back into its previous pristine state.
She had no idea where Madam Pince was now. It didn’t seem to matter; she would hate for the staunch librarian to see her beloved books in this state of chaos.
With infinite patience and more than a little elbow grease, Hermione had cleaned the library by hand. Dobby, Winky, and a few other house elves were assigned to assist her but she was loath to use their services. She usually put them to work dusting, another task that was long overdue. The harder tasks, like rearranging the stacks and cataloguing the missing or destroyed books, she kept to herself.
It was hot that summer, hotter than she ever remembered it being before. She was wearing an old Muggle shirt with short sleeves and a button-down front that she could unbutton until the heat was bearable. The most efficient cooling charm that she could muster wasn’t enough to keep the sweat from dripping down between her breasts and plastering the shirt to her skin or the flyaway hairs from her forehead. There were several times that she had to swipe at the hair sticking to her neck to sweep it out of her way while she worked on a particularly defiled magic text.
She realized that she wasn’t alone when the house elves stopped their dusting and chatter and stood silently, looking toward the door of the library. As she huffed a stray lock of hair out of her face, she saw a familiar blond head making its way toward her current position, determination in his steps.
“Granger, good that I found you here.”
She wanted to glare, really she did, but she was too heartsick and tired to muster a good one. “What do you want, Malfoy?” she asked. Her voice betrayed her weariness and he threw her a look of concern before he set his face in a mockery of a smile.
“Should have known that I would find you in the library. I’ve come to offer my assistance.”
Her eyes rounded in surprise as she finally looked up at him. He hovered over her and she had to crane her neck to see his face, her eyes narrowed to discern his truthfulness. “You want to help me set the library to rights?” she repeated, suspicion clouding her vision.
“Although you would never want to believe it, Granger, I was in here just as much as you were—more if you count the year that you were gone—and what Alecto and Amycus did to this place made me physically ill.”
“So it was the Carrows that did this. I’d wondered.” She leaned back in the chair to survey his black trousers and silk shirt. “You’re going to get your hands dirty doing this. Some of these books are too old and protected to use magic on."
“I’m not afraid of hard work, Granger.”
“Grab a book and get started then.”
They worked in silence for a while. Eventually, the house elves began their chatter again, covering up the tension that filled the cavernous room between the separate tables where they sat. Hermione waited until she could stand it no longer, then finally said, “So how did the Carrows destroy the books so completely?”
“Well, I know that they used some of them for target practice. Others were so repugnant to them that they just destroyed them outright. I’m sure that you know how they were or at least heard some of it at the trials.”
She had. She had attended all three Malfoy trials and heard atrocities that she was glad she hadn’t witnessed.
It was astounding her beyond belief to see the Malfoy heir getting dirty and dusty alongside her as they cleaned and repaired the books in the library. After weeks of work, mostly done in silence, they stood at the doors and surveyed the completed project.
She didn’t even realize that she was crying when she felt a fingertip swipe softly across her cheek. “I knew that you were barmy over the library, Granger, but really, I don’t think that it’s necessary that you cry.”
“I’m just so glad to see it restored. It looks wonderful, Malfoy, it really does!” Forgetting herself and her companion, she reacted much as she would with Ron and Harry and threw herself into his arms. He stiffened slightly at her touch, then his arms came around her and he held her and patted her back awkwardly as she cried.
It did look amazing after all their hard work. The shelves gleamed with polish, each book precisely lined up with the edge and charmed to remain straight, even if the neighboring book was removed. The windows were replaced and the paintings and tapestries cleaned and restored with as much magic as they dared to use.
Malfoy looked around and tried to see it through her eyes, or what he imagined her eyes would see. As she straightened and patted the drying tears from her face, he looked down at her with more fondness than he had ever felt for a Gryffindor or Muggle-born in his entire life. He would deny it if said, but that was the exactly the feeling; he actually had started liking her as a person.
“You did well, Granger. Let’s go grab some dinner in the Great Hall before we start on the next project.”
As she followed him, she looked up at him with more than a little confusion. “Next project?” she echoed.
“The Room of Requirement—it was quite destroyed by the fiendfyre, if you remember. It needs repaired badly. There will be future rebels like you and Potter that will need it, I’m sure.”
His tone was airy but the dark jealousy that never left his heart was lurking right below the surface of the words. Hermione heard them and wondered what he was jealous about, but that was not a topic she dared approach at the present.
~*~
Hermione knew that she was drifting off for longer and longer periods of time. The burning in her feet had turned into an absence of feeling altogether—she knew that wasn’t good. Her arms were lodged around her chest and back, her elbows pressing against the wall uncomfortably as her breathing grew more shallow with the passing moments.
It was easier to stay in the dreamworld right now. It was easier to let herself drift into the past, when things were right between them and they weren’t fighting over silly things like…she tried to shake her head to clear her thoughts and found herself unable to move it so much as an inch. Her long hair had trapped it between her buttocks and the wall as the chasm closed her in further underground.
She couldn’t draw in enough breath to scream, she couldn’t move, couldn’t summon her wand—really, what use was it to stay awake? With a sigh, she let herself go back to the world of dreams, the darkness a comfort in this prison of brick and stone.
~*~
When she opened her eyes she saw darkness still, highlighted by the flickering light of candles around the room. Her face heated when she noticed the couple writhing on the bed, legs tangled in silken sheets and sweat glistening on their entwined bodies as the moved in tandem, searching for an elusive peak.
She remembered that night and the ones that followed with a small smile; it was the first night that she had given herself to Draco, allowing herself the pleasures of the flesh that he so freely offered her. He had been a gentleman, true; his propositions had always been quite properly worded, nothing like the rude suggestions that had come out of Ron's mouth when they were dating. There was no mention of shagging or sex, just a nightcap and continued conversation. She knew euphemisms when she heard them, though. She was a smart woman, or so she liked to think.
No, tonight had been special because it was the first time that Draco had actually let his guard down and told her that he loved her. He had reached for her hand in the restaurant and stroked the fingers delicately so he didn’t have to look her in the face. “Hermione, I—I’m not quite sure how to say everything that I want to. When we’re together I feel like we can conquer the world. I grieve when I have to leave you—my heart hurts so, I wish that it would stop beating. You’ve made me happy when I didn’t know what happiness was, laugh when there was no reason, and believe in myself when I didn’t have an identity left. Hermione Granger, you’re an inspiration to me and I love you with all my heart.”
Even now, the sheer romanticism and truth in his words made her gasp with wonder. Seeing herself in bed with him—it made her ache in places that she would just as well not remember existed right at this very minute.
She ignored her own gasping cries, considering that she had made them once before—she rested her head next to her own and concentrated on his face, his eyes as they watched her tumble over the edge to a place that he couldn’t follow. Male and female they were, but their pleasures were so different and poles apart; the female’s more like the leaping off a cliff into freefall without a parachute, the male’s more like a stuttering, skidding, out-of-control vehicle without a driver that continued until all the gasoline was gone.
He was fascinated by her face, the look of bliss that consumed her. He was lost in it, his eyes never moving from it as she threw her head back and screamed his name. She saw a thin glint of silver trail down his nose and fall from the tip, landing on her breast. As she squinted in the darkness, she could see that it was a tear.
A tear! Draco Malfoy had cried the first time they made love? Such a realization tore the fabric of her reality more than she would ever let on. It was not in him to cry at something so mundane, so she thought.
As her sight began to fade, she wondered how she would ever face him again.
~*~
Malfoy was a madman, tearing through the manor at a pace that was hard for Harry and the other Aurors to keep up with. “Draco, slow down!” Harry yelled, his voice echoing back at him from the marble walls and polished floors.
“Can’t!” They heard him slam through doors at the end of the hallway around the corner, his shoes sliding and squealing on the slick flooring. “Granger! Granger! Hermione, where are you?”
Harry wanted to stop in his tracks at the terror in Malfoy's voice but pushed onward until he stood next to him, staring at the desk and the object lying on the top. Hermione's wand looked innocuous enough, but just its presence there without its mistress was menacing.
Draco looked around, his fine hair flying. “She must have fallen into a trap. Don’t touch anything, men. Especially the books.”
He crawled along the floor, cursing the house elves that kept the uninhabited manor spotless and dust-free. He could see the scuff of her sensible shoes along the shine at the edge of the bookshelf and followed it to the point that it seemed to disappear.
He whispered a spell and his wand-tip glowed yellow as he ran it along the edges of the books. He was about to give up the search when the tip turned green and he felt dark magic pulse around him and through his wand before it extinguished itself.
“Okay, I’ve found the book—probably one of the most innocent ones that the library has in it. Potter, you and the others stand back but in a circle while I step aside and pull it—there should be a gap open when I do. Whatever is down there, levitate it to the surface, all right?”
Harry nodded, then gave Carlen and Tavish a nod, seconding Draco’s abrupt orders. They moved into position and waited patiently for Malfoy's signal.
With a curt nod, he pulled the book completely out of the shelf and a deep crevasse opened in the floor, nearly tumbling Draco into it as well. He reached out his hand to push himself back and sat back on his knees, looking down until he saw the frost-rimed curls that were snugged down into the very bottom of the chasm.
“Hermione!” He yelled, training his wand on her.
With the four wizards’ magic combined, they were able to lift the frozen woman out of the hole before Draco replaced the book, then over to the couch.
Her face was cyanotic, her lips an enchanting blue that was by no means natural. Her feet were encased in a block of ice that had crept to her knees and her arms were frozen in a parody of an embrace that couldn’t be dislodged.
They cast warming charm after warming charm until some of the pink came back into her lips, then flooed with her to St. Mungo’s for professional help that came none too soon.
~*~
She dreamed that she was warm again, warm and tucked into a snug bed with clean sheets and blankets that smelled like spring. Her hand was held in a firm grip that exuded love and worry with every flexion of the fingers, never leaving until it loosened and fell to the bed beneath hers. She opened her eyes to see Draco sitting there, asleep in the chair next to her bed with his hand next to hers, his fingers still brushing hers.
She lifted her hand and smoothed the baby-fine hair away from his face, her touch rousing him from his light sleep. “You’re awake,” he said.
“Yeah. I dreamed about you,” she whispered back.
“Hermione—”
“Draco, you were right. I was cocky and stupid and I should have never gone into the library without you. I’m sorry.”
He stared at her through lowered lashes. “I thought that I’d lost you.”
She smiled, barely moving her mouth. “You’ll never lose me. I know you, Malfoy, better than you know yourself.”
“I know that you do.” He stood and bent to kiss her forehead, then her mouth, his lips warming hers. “We’ll go back together. I don’t want to lose you again.”
There was a promise at the edge of her voice that he wouldn’t, but she couldn’t make it; she wanted to tell him that he’d never lose her, but a thousand things could happen in a day.
They would just have to take one step at a time, together.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger
Warnings: none
Rating: PG
Summary: Even the brightest witch of the age couldn't escape a trap set years in advance by one devious Malfoy.
She was trapped.
Cold, wandless, in darkness that was so complete that she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face, she was ensnared so completely that she couldn’t move. Her toes were numb, tingling painfully despite the thick socks and sensible shoes that she had worn that morning. She could feel her fingertips succumbing to the cold as well as she shivered in the depths of the hidden room in the center of the Malfoy library.
She had been assigned to catalogue the Dark magic texts in the confiscated library two days ago by the Ministry. As one of the official Ministry librarians, she had nearly been overcome with uncharacteristic excitement at the thought of being chosen for such an auspicious task. It was well known that the Malfoy library had the most extensive collection of Dark texts that were privately owned; she would have the first look at what could prove to be one of the most effective weapons against future Dark wizards who thought that they would take over the wizarding world.
She had made her way through the first shelf of books when she had the misfortune to pull out the wrong book. When she did, a hole opened beneath her and she plummeted down until she finally hit bottom indeterminable yards below.
She realized when she reached into her pocket that her wand remained on the desk, only seconds before the hole above her closed and left her in the pitch black darkness.
She let her mind drift away from her body, too tired to fight the cold, magic, and exhaustion that threatened to overtake her for the moment.
~*~
She was back at Hogwarts again somehow. Dreamlike wraiths of students past, present, and future wandered the halls with her as she glided across the Entrance Hall. She saw Harry, Ron, and herself as they were when they were fifteen, young and idealistic and far too narrow-minded for their own good. Malfoy, Pansy, and Zabini followed them, watching them closely. She saw a variety of things in their eyes. Longing, need, lust—she couldn’t believe that she never noticed the feelings that roiled beneath the surface of the “Evil Trio” as they haunted their steps.
When they got to the Great Hall, however, instead of shadowing Ron and Harry's steps she decided to shadow the other trio, the evil trio. They sat down at the Slytherin table and stared in the direction of the Gryffindor table across the hall, their eyes never leaving the group that laughed outrageously, talked incessantly, and associated with everyone that approached them.
They were isolated, insular, and alone. She noticed that they spoke only to one another, never to anyone outside of Slytherin. They spent their time glaring at the Hufflepuffs, sneering at the Ravenclaws, and envying the Gryffindors.
Blaise suddenly spoke. “She’s bloody gorgeous, that one! I don’t know why you don’t try to snag a piece of that, Draco. If anything, you’d be a god among the Slytherins for tapping that Gryff’s ass, for sure.”
Draco flipped his hair out of his eyes and glared at his friend. “You know exactly why I keep my distance, Blaise. Don’t push it.”
She must have drawn too close to him to look into his eyes as he spoke because he startled and drew away from her then reached out, as if to grab an Invisibility Cloak from thin air.
Pansy noticed and frowned. “What’s wrong, Draco?”
“Nothing. It must be nothing. Come on, there’s nothing going on in here. Let’s head back to the Common Room.”
Hermione looked longingly over toward the laughing group, following their stares. Instead of going over to listen in, she followed the Evil Trio down to the Slytherin Common Room.
The door was hidden behind a plain statue of nothing in particular—some kind of magical beast whose name eluded her for the moment. Malfoy whispered the password and it swung aside to let them in. Her ghostly footsteps followed and she took in the view of the Slytherin Common Room, the first Gryffindor to do so in ages.
She expected it to be dark and dank, sinister and frightening. What she found was a warm, welcoming room that seemed just as homey and comforting as her own. Done in greens and grays instead of red and gold, it exuded the feeling of family and companionship. It wasn’t the Dark Revel that she had always thought it would be.
Malfoy crossed the room and sat in a large leather armchair. He was quickly thronged with students, some with troubles and some just seeking his attention. A first year that was having difficulty in Charms was sent over to speak with Blaise who treated the youngster with warmth and kindness. Another, a second-year girl, was talking to Draco about some teasing from some Hufflepuff first years. She was dispatched to Pansy for advice and girltalk.
When all the students’ needs were met, he left the Common Room and went to his own quarters. Intrigued, she followed close behind to find him already stretched out on a four-poster bed with green curtains and linens looking at a picture in the palm of his hand.
“I wish things were different,” he said to the picture. Before she could catch a glimpse of it, it was stowed away and she was colder than she ever believed she could tolerate…
~*~
Hermione came to and hit her head on the wall behind her as she jerked her head up. The space had grown smaller since she’d been unconscious; she could barely move her arms now.
She wrapped her arms around herself and hugged her body tight. She couldn’t tell how much time had passed or what time of day it was. Her stomach growled and she realized it had been a long time since her rushed cup of tea and plain bagel that she had crammed in her face that morning. Her feet were so cold that they hurt; the cold burned now and she could no longer feel her feet. Her legs were numb as were her fingers and she brought them close to her mouth and blew warm breath on them. They tingled painfully and she stopped, tucking her hands under her arms to warm them in her armpits.
Her head lolled on her neck, too heavy to hold up as she stood pressed against the wall. She could have made a sound, a muffled groan as she leaned her head back to rest against the wall behind her, unconsciously pressing against the bump that was growing on the back of her skull.
Darkness pressed against her eyes and she let it take her down without a fight.
~*~
She was at Hogwarts again. The battle was over and done with, the walls of the Great Hall crumbling after the intense amount of spellcasting done within its walls. She was near the group of redheads that mourned the falling of one of their own; it was strange to watch them from the outside of their close-knit circle instead of being included in the group as she had been on that day.
She could sense the exhaustion dragging her down, pulling her toward the transfigured cots that lined the walls for the wounded. She watched as she pulled herself away from the wailing Weasleys and walked between the remaining House tables and the survivors from the battle.
She noticed Malfoy and his parents sitting apart from everyone, still projecting an air of exclusiveness, although Narcissa Malfoy dabbed ineffectively at her eyes and Lucius looked like he was near tears himself. Draco simply looked uncomfortable as he sat next to them, attempting to keep himself apart from them without rejecting them outright.
He followed her weary form with his eyes, then leaned over to whisper to his mother. Standing, he followed her out into the Entrance Hall where she slumped on the stairs.
She followed him, curious as to his actions before what happened next. She knew what happened next; she had been there.
He stood in the shadows watching her as the tears dripped down her face to roll off her chin, staining her shirt. She wiped them away with her sleeve, dragging snot and saliva into the fringes of her hair. She watched his face closely as he watched her from the shadows, expecting a sneer or a smirk to cross his face. All she saw in his eyes was a deep, unmeasureable sadness that seemed to imbue him with a sympathetic air that was never a part of his demeanor before this moment.
He stepped forward and cleared his throat to call her attention to his presence. “Granger,” he said, swallowing hard.
When she answered, her voice was tired and world-worn. “What, Malfoy? What could you possibly have to say to me?”
“I’m sorry.”
Hermione's ghost self saw that he truly was sorry. It was written all over his features, from the set of his full lips to the hunched shoulders that she’d never noticed before. She ignored her own self as she stood next to him, watching him like her life depended on it; then again, perhaps it did.
“Sorry for what?” Her voice was flat and emotionless; she remembered feeling so drained and empty after all that had happened that day.
“I’m sorry for what I put you through for so many years. I’m sorry that I never really looked at you as a person. I’m sorry for not helping you that night in my father’s house.”
She remembered waving him off, his apology cast aside. “Don’t worry about it, Malfoy. I never expected anything from you. After all, you’ve never hesitated to remind me that I was only a filthy little Mudblood to you.”
She saw his face fall and his shoulders slope a little more than they had been. “I also needed to thank you for saving me and Goyle from the fiendfyre.”
She leaned her head against the railing of the staircase, too tired to do much of anything in that moment. “Harry and Ron saved you, Malfoy, not me.”
She saw him step forward and extend his hand, something she missed when she leaned heavily on the stairs for support. There was a pleading look on his face, hopeful despite the odds of rejection. “Granger, please. Take my handkerchief.”
She held out her hand and he gave it to her ever so gently. “I’ll get it back to you eventually. I’ll have Dobby wash it first so you’re pureblooded skin doesn’t get contaminated.”
As her memory-self wiped her face, Malfoy turned and left her sitting on the stairs, melting back into the shadows. He leaned against the wall and hunkered down, hugging his knees to him with his arms. He watched her from the shadows until Ron and Harry came to collect her, then returned to his parents’ sides, watching the door of the Great Hall with a longing look that pierced her ghostly heart with it’s pathos.
~*~
Draco dropped by Potter's office on the way out of the Ministry, headed home for the day. As usual, the Boy Wonder was slaving at his desk, paperwork stacked high on either side of him and missives from other Aurors drifting overhead, waiting for his attention.
“Potter, have you seen Granger?” he asked casually, leaning on the edge of his erstwhile coworker.
Distracted, Harry reached up and snagged another paper airplane with his normal Seeker’s grace. “I think that she was cataloguing the Malfoy libraries today, Draco. She was so excited I thought that she would wet herself.”
“She what? And you let her go alone, you dolt? You must be mad!” Draco didn’t realize that he was nearly yelling until he heard the echoes of his own voice bouncing back at him off the walls.
Harry looked up at his fellow auror with a frown. “What are you going on about, Malfoy? This is a routine catalogue—all the Dark Artifacts are in the possession of the Ministry and there’s nothing there that might harm her.”
“Nothing there! Harry, that’s my father’s library that you’re talking about, not the general stacks of Hogwarts. There are protective charms, traps, hexes embedded into the shelves—it isn’t ordinary by any means. What if she’s been hurt? Or killed even? We have to go to the Manor, Harry, now before it’s too late.”
Harry arched his eyebrow at Malfoy, surprised by his concern. “You know, you’re talking about one of the brightest witches of our generation—hell, the last few generations. She knows to check for wards and traps, Malfoy. She’s far from stupid.”
“Have you ever know Hermione to keep her hands off a book? Really, Potter, I thought that you knew your best friend better than that.”
Draco had stood and begun pacing in front of the desk, his hand raking through his straight blond hair. Harry was about to dismiss the entire idea until he ran through Draco’s words again in his mind. Traps…hexes…protective charms. It seemed to hit him all at once and he leaped to his feet, pressing the tip of his wand to the Auror badge on his chest.
“We’ll need backup, Malfoy, and your services. You’re the only one who knows all the problems that she could have encountered. Let’s go.”
With two other Aurors beside themselves, the two worried men Apparated to Malfoy Manor, hell-bent on finding the librarian that should have been safe—if not for the twisted mind of Lucius Malfoy.
~*~
Hermione drifted back to the halcyon days following the War—there were parades and celebrations along with memorials and funerals. There were trials to attend and testify along with the rebuilding of her beloved Hogwarts and the salvaging of the library there.
It was in the quiet of the library that she found her calling, her first love.
She wept over the destroyed sections of the library that the quasi-professors and full-time Death Eaters had deemed ‘unnecessary’. Muggle Studies, Charms, History of Magic—they all had thousands of books that were destroyed by fire, water, and magic. The Restricted Section of the library had been spread among the general stacks and the students that had returned to the school had not gently or reverently treated the ancient tomes that had rested there. There were quill marks in the margins and whole paragraphs blacked out by Merlin knew what spell and she fretted and worried that she would ever get it back into its previous pristine state.
She had no idea where Madam Pince was now. It didn’t seem to matter; she would hate for the staunch librarian to see her beloved books in this state of chaos.
With infinite patience and more than a little elbow grease, Hermione had cleaned the library by hand. Dobby, Winky, and a few other house elves were assigned to assist her but she was loath to use their services. She usually put them to work dusting, another task that was long overdue. The harder tasks, like rearranging the stacks and cataloguing the missing or destroyed books, she kept to herself.
It was hot that summer, hotter than she ever remembered it being before. She was wearing an old Muggle shirt with short sleeves and a button-down front that she could unbutton until the heat was bearable. The most efficient cooling charm that she could muster wasn’t enough to keep the sweat from dripping down between her breasts and plastering the shirt to her skin or the flyaway hairs from her forehead. There were several times that she had to swipe at the hair sticking to her neck to sweep it out of her way while she worked on a particularly defiled magic text.
She realized that she wasn’t alone when the house elves stopped their dusting and chatter and stood silently, looking toward the door of the library. As she huffed a stray lock of hair out of her face, she saw a familiar blond head making its way toward her current position, determination in his steps.
“Granger, good that I found you here.”
She wanted to glare, really she did, but she was too heartsick and tired to muster a good one. “What do you want, Malfoy?” she asked. Her voice betrayed her weariness and he threw her a look of concern before he set his face in a mockery of a smile.
“Should have known that I would find you in the library. I’ve come to offer my assistance.”
Her eyes rounded in surprise as she finally looked up at him. He hovered over her and she had to crane her neck to see his face, her eyes narrowed to discern his truthfulness. “You want to help me set the library to rights?” she repeated, suspicion clouding her vision.
“Although you would never want to believe it, Granger, I was in here just as much as you were—more if you count the year that you were gone—and what Alecto and Amycus did to this place made me physically ill.”
“So it was the Carrows that did this. I’d wondered.” She leaned back in the chair to survey his black trousers and silk shirt. “You’re going to get your hands dirty doing this. Some of these books are too old and protected to use magic on."
“I’m not afraid of hard work, Granger.”
“Grab a book and get started then.”
They worked in silence for a while. Eventually, the house elves began their chatter again, covering up the tension that filled the cavernous room between the separate tables where they sat. Hermione waited until she could stand it no longer, then finally said, “So how did the Carrows destroy the books so completely?”
“Well, I know that they used some of them for target practice. Others were so repugnant to them that they just destroyed them outright. I’m sure that you know how they were or at least heard some of it at the trials.”
She had. She had attended all three Malfoy trials and heard atrocities that she was glad she hadn’t witnessed.
It was astounding her beyond belief to see the Malfoy heir getting dirty and dusty alongside her as they cleaned and repaired the books in the library. After weeks of work, mostly done in silence, they stood at the doors and surveyed the completed project.
She didn’t even realize that she was crying when she felt a fingertip swipe softly across her cheek. “I knew that you were barmy over the library, Granger, but really, I don’t think that it’s necessary that you cry.”
“I’m just so glad to see it restored. It looks wonderful, Malfoy, it really does!” Forgetting herself and her companion, she reacted much as she would with Ron and Harry and threw herself into his arms. He stiffened slightly at her touch, then his arms came around her and he held her and patted her back awkwardly as she cried.
It did look amazing after all their hard work. The shelves gleamed with polish, each book precisely lined up with the edge and charmed to remain straight, even if the neighboring book was removed. The windows were replaced and the paintings and tapestries cleaned and restored with as much magic as they dared to use.
Malfoy looked around and tried to see it through her eyes, or what he imagined her eyes would see. As she straightened and patted the drying tears from her face, he looked down at her with more fondness than he had ever felt for a Gryffindor or Muggle-born in his entire life. He would deny it if said, but that was the exactly the feeling; he actually had started liking her as a person.
“You did well, Granger. Let’s go grab some dinner in the Great Hall before we start on the next project.”
As she followed him, she looked up at him with more than a little confusion. “Next project?” she echoed.
“The Room of Requirement—it was quite destroyed by the fiendfyre, if you remember. It needs repaired badly. There will be future rebels like you and Potter that will need it, I’m sure.”
His tone was airy but the dark jealousy that never left his heart was lurking right below the surface of the words. Hermione heard them and wondered what he was jealous about, but that was not a topic she dared approach at the present.
~*~
Hermione knew that she was drifting off for longer and longer periods of time. The burning in her feet had turned into an absence of feeling altogether—she knew that wasn’t good. Her arms were lodged around her chest and back, her elbows pressing against the wall uncomfortably as her breathing grew more shallow with the passing moments.
It was easier to stay in the dreamworld right now. It was easier to let herself drift into the past, when things were right between them and they weren’t fighting over silly things like…she tried to shake her head to clear her thoughts and found herself unable to move it so much as an inch. Her long hair had trapped it between her buttocks and the wall as the chasm closed her in further underground.
She couldn’t draw in enough breath to scream, she couldn’t move, couldn’t summon her wand—really, what use was it to stay awake? With a sigh, she let herself go back to the world of dreams, the darkness a comfort in this prison of brick and stone.
~*~
When she opened her eyes she saw darkness still, highlighted by the flickering light of candles around the room. Her face heated when she noticed the couple writhing on the bed, legs tangled in silken sheets and sweat glistening on their entwined bodies as the moved in tandem, searching for an elusive peak.
She remembered that night and the ones that followed with a small smile; it was the first night that she had given herself to Draco, allowing herself the pleasures of the flesh that he so freely offered her. He had been a gentleman, true; his propositions had always been quite properly worded, nothing like the rude suggestions that had come out of Ron's mouth when they were dating. There was no mention of shagging or sex, just a nightcap and continued conversation. She knew euphemisms when she heard them, though. She was a smart woman, or so she liked to think.
No, tonight had been special because it was the first time that Draco had actually let his guard down and told her that he loved her. He had reached for her hand in the restaurant and stroked the fingers delicately so he didn’t have to look her in the face. “Hermione, I—I’m not quite sure how to say everything that I want to. When we’re together I feel like we can conquer the world. I grieve when I have to leave you—my heart hurts so, I wish that it would stop beating. You’ve made me happy when I didn’t know what happiness was, laugh when there was no reason, and believe in myself when I didn’t have an identity left. Hermione Granger, you’re an inspiration to me and I love you with all my heart.”
Even now, the sheer romanticism and truth in his words made her gasp with wonder. Seeing herself in bed with him—it made her ache in places that she would just as well not remember existed right at this very minute.
She ignored her own gasping cries, considering that she had made them once before—she rested her head next to her own and concentrated on his face, his eyes as they watched her tumble over the edge to a place that he couldn’t follow. Male and female they were, but their pleasures were so different and poles apart; the female’s more like the leaping off a cliff into freefall without a parachute, the male’s more like a stuttering, skidding, out-of-control vehicle without a driver that continued until all the gasoline was gone.
He was fascinated by her face, the look of bliss that consumed her. He was lost in it, his eyes never moving from it as she threw her head back and screamed his name. She saw a thin glint of silver trail down his nose and fall from the tip, landing on her breast. As she squinted in the darkness, she could see that it was a tear.
A tear! Draco Malfoy had cried the first time they made love? Such a realization tore the fabric of her reality more than she would ever let on. It was not in him to cry at something so mundane, so she thought.
As her sight began to fade, she wondered how she would ever face him again.
~*~
Malfoy was a madman, tearing through the manor at a pace that was hard for Harry and the other Aurors to keep up with. “Draco, slow down!” Harry yelled, his voice echoing back at him from the marble walls and polished floors.
“Can’t!” They heard him slam through doors at the end of the hallway around the corner, his shoes sliding and squealing on the slick flooring. “Granger! Granger! Hermione, where are you?”
Harry wanted to stop in his tracks at the terror in Malfoy's voice but pushed onward until he stood next to him, staring at the desk and the object lying on the top. Hermione's wand looked innocuous enough, but just its presence there without its mistress was menacing.
Draco looked around, his fine hair flying. “She must have fallen into a trap. Don’t touch anything, men. Especially the books.”
He crawled along the floor, cursing the house elves that kept the uninhabited manor spotless and dust-free. He could see the scuff of her sensible shoes along the shine at the edge of the bookshelf and followed it to the point that it seemed to disappear.
He whispered a spell and his wand-tip glowed yellow as he ran it along the edges of the books. He was about to give up the search when the tip turned green and he felt dark magic pulse around him and through his wand before it extinguished itself.
“Okay, I’ve found the book—probably one of the most innocent ones that the library has in it. Potter, you and the others stand back but in a circle while I step aside and pull it—there should be a gap open when I do. Whatever is down there, levitate it to the surface, all right?”
Harry nodded, then gave Carlen and Tavish a nod, seconding Draco’s abrupt orders. They moved into position and waited patiently for Malfoy's signal.
With a curt nod, he pulled the book completely out of the shelf and a deep crevasse opened in the floor, nearly tumbling Draco into it as well. He reached out his hand to push himself back and sat back on his knees, looking down until he saw the frost-rimed curls that were snugged down into the very bottom of the chasm.
“Hermione!” He yelled, training his wand on her.
With the four wizards’ magic combined, they were able to lift the frozen woman out of the hole before Draco replaced the book, then over to the couch.
Her face was cyanotic, her lips an enchanting blue that was by no means natural. Her feet were encased in a block of ice that had crept to her knees and her arms were frozen in a parody of an embrace that couldn’t be dislodged.
They cast warming charm after warming charm until some of the pink came back into her lips, then flooed with her to St. Mungo’s for professional help that came none too soon.
~*~
She dreamed that she was warm again, warm and tucked into a snug bed with clean sheets and blankets that smelled like spring. Her hand was held in a firm grip that exuded love and worry with every flexion of the fingers, never leaving until it loosened and fell to the bed beneath hers. She opened her eyes to see Draco sitting there, asleep in the chair next to her bed with his hand next to hers, his fingers still brushing hers.
She lifted her hand and smoothed the baby-fine hair away from his face, her touch rousing him from his light sleep. “You’re awake,” he said.
“Yeah. I dreamed about you,” she whispered back.
“Hermione—”
“Draco, you were right. I was cocky and stupid and I should have never gone into the library without you. I’m sorry.”
He stared at her through lowered lashes. “I thought that I’d lost you.”
She smiled, barely moving her mouth. “You’ll never lose me. I know you, Malfoy, better than you know yourself.”
“I know that you do.” He stood and bent to kiss her forehead, then her mouth, his lips warming hers. “We’ll go back together. I don’t want to lose you again.”
There was a promise at the edge of her voice that he wouldn’t, but she couldn’t make it; she wanted to tell him that he’d never lose her, but a thousand things could happen in a day.
They would just have to take one step at a time, together.
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Date: 2008-02-24 11:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-24 07:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-24 07:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-24 11:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-25 05:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-25 04:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-25 05:59 am (UTC)Thank you so much! :D
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Date: 2008-02-26 02:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-25 05:42 pm (UTC)Very well done!
Kisses
Lisi
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Date: 2008-02-25 11:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-25 06:23 pm (UTC)There were many details that I loved, subtle touches which added layers of poignancy to the tale. One fleeting moment which stood out especially was the fragility of the Malfoys as a whole in the scene immediately following Harry's ... victory (it still feels a bit like a travesty to call it that, really, but what can you do). It was one mere glance on adult Hermione's part, but the imagery and the context did an absolutely wonderful job of showing how very damaged the three Malfoys were as a result of Voldemort's punishment and amusement during the preceding year.
The ending, too, is a nice touch, and infuses a note of realism into the reunion (and, simultaneously, infuses a tinge of happy ending into the realism) in a way that is wonderfully in tune with Hermione's journey.
In all, thank you for an absolutely superb read.
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Date: 2008-02-25 11:14 pm (UTC)I don't think that I've ever had such a detailed review that wasn't riddled with criticism. It was wonderfully refreshing and appreciated. My email alert was shunted right to my save box that I read when the muse deserts me for greener pastures.
Thank you so much! ♥
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Date: 2008-02-25 11:32 pm (UTC)And here I was, wibbling that I hadn't commented on everything I had picked up on and wanted to express my appreciation of...
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Date: 2008-02-25 11:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-26 01:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-26 05:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-03 04:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-25 04:27 am (UTC)I was reading your Granger Enchanted stories but can't get back into the site, keep getting a fatal error message or something so will try later.
However, are most of those, or all of those stories here at this site? Could you let me know if they are and I will look and read and review. Never believed I'd be hooked on Dramione fiction but I am so there you go, lol
Amazing you are, that is for sure!
Kimmy
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Date: 2008-03-25 02:47 pm (UTC)I always post my stories to my journal first. It gives me a chance to work the kinks out before I post them to websites.
I'm glad that you enjoyed this story. I never thought that I'd be writing Dramione fiction either--it just came as a fluke. I had an idea, it sounded good, and I wrote it--and opened up a whole new world for myself (and the people that read my stories).
Now if I could just get that original fiction story written....:D