The Fool, the Emperor, and the Hanged Man

Title: The Fool, the Emperor, and the Hanged Man
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA/NC-17
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Suspense, romance, angst
Warnings: Character Death, graphic violence, madness, non-consensual sexual acts, abuse, oral, M/F, and overall darkness. Dark!Harry included.
Summary: DH-EWE: Ten years after the fall of the Dark Lord, Hermione Granger leads of life of self-imposed obscurity, that is, until the day Headmistress Minerva McGonagall is murdered and a certain 'hero' is responsible.
Author's Notes: This fic is in 1st person POV, so take heed. It will eventually be a DM/HG, but there is a squicky scene that might make you think otherwise. There is some non-con in this fic, so if it squicks you, don't read it for Merlin's sake! Comments and ConCrit is welcomed!

Unbeta'd

The Fool, the Emperor, and the Hanged Man
Part 11




I was glad I had decided to wear my favorite linen skirt that day, as well as a heavy green jumper that fell down past my hips. I wore my boots, which threw off the whole outfit, but I had never been one to prescribe to fashion trends. I wore my wand in its holster in my sleeve, and considered casting a warming Charm around the vicinity of my head.

The early April day was sunny, the sky clear and a gorgeous shade of azure, but the wind was still brisk. Malfoy did not seem bothered by the wind, which whipped at his platinum hair about his face. He walked three paces ahead of me, his feet moving surely over the cobbled path.

We moved quickly from the kitchen garden, and through a hedge into a larger garden that reminded me of pictures I had seen of Versailles. Topiaries, large reflecting pools mirroring the Manor behind us…then fountains reminiscent of Italian works by Bernini.

Into another, smaller garden, flowers bloomed in patterned colors, the scent lost on the brisk wind. Then through another hedge into an arboretum, with lines and lines of ancient cherry and dogwood trees, all blooming.

Finally, Malfoy paused to lean against the thick trunk of a cherry tree, his hands in his pockets, his eye lifted to the canopy of pink and white.

“Most of the recalled Aurors have been conscripted from other departments. There are few true Aurors. Williamson, whom you met, being one. Weasley is another. Even ex-Minister Shacklebolt has been recalled.

After the Dark Lord, the Ministry had hoped they would not need Aurors, at least not as many as there were. So many were lost during, and before the Last Battle. And many wanting to be Aurors, those we went to school with, were not suitable. So many wanted to join as a form of revenge. So many stupid kids wanting justice for themselves and their families. Potter was one, I suppose, but he actually had talent, from what I have been told. Same with Weasley. There were many in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that wondered why you did not follow suit.”

Malfoy was smirking, lowering his eye from the petals to me, as I stood on the cobbled path still.

“Brains over brawn…so they say,” I asserted pathetically.

Still, Malfoy barked a laugh. “You were probably better for it, Granger.”

I frowned.

“After the Last Battle, I was very angry. I had every reason to be…and I ‘ran away’ from home. I went to America where I knew a few people, and applied for citizenship. I also applied to be an Auror.

In America, being an Auror is like being in the Muggle military. You sign away years of your life to train everyday…work for advancement…hone your body and your mind so that it no longer cleaves your soul to kill.

I started off at the bottom of a class of one hundred other witches and wizards. I was bullied for my size, for my hair, for my accent, but after two months, I was only one of ten who made it through the ‘basic training.’ After three months, I was already working with the American equivalent of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, catching bad men…and at times executing them.”

I closed my eyes. Ron had told me how heartless and no-nonsense the American Magical Confederation could be. He had told me that if I ever visited America to be careful of their laws…American Aurors were not the sort of people you wanted to meet in a sticky situation. They were ‘law men,’ but their laws were absolute, and punishment for an infraction was swift, and unforgiving.

I wiped my hand through my short hair again, and opened my eyes as Malfoy continued.

“I became involved with a covert organization inside the Aurors. It was an organization much like the one Weasley is part of now…I infiltrated so-called ‘terrorist’ cells, and ‘dismantled’ them. I worked with the AMC to capture, and subdue dangerous elements. I worked with the AMC to squash any stirrings of a dark nature in the wake of the Dark Lord. Even in America, the Dark Lord had reached deep into the American magical community.

To this day, there are things I cannot talk about. Things I have seen, things I have done. I was an unexpected asset to the AMC. I had survived the Last Battle, but that was not why I was respected. I had made myself strong, powerful, and most of all trusted.

All that ended the day that our Ministry went to America to collect me. The AMC was not going to let me go, not without a fight…but in the end, I came back to Britain to testify against the Dark Lord and his minions. I had been expected to testify against my own father, but when I spoke, my words could not condemn him. My father had been a victim…but I will not glorify what he did and said, Granger…”

I turned my eyes to the path, and the pink and white petals on the ground.

“You know as well as anyone what was said before the Wizengamot. My father was never a hero, and it was not until later did I realize he less of a villain. My father chose the wrong side, and nearly lost the chance to turn it around. But he did…just in time.”

I glanced at Malfoy again whose eye was gazing up at the canopy.

“After the trial, Gumboil made me an offer I could not refuse. I could not go back to America…I had been forsaken the moment I left the country. I could have gone anywhere…France, Australia, or India…but Gumboil’s offer appealed to me, and I took it. It was a big step down from my work in America, but Gumboil groomed me to take his place, and take his place, I shall.

But now, with Potter, I’ve been relegated to Auror status again. And if there is a need, I will go.”

I grasped my right arm and shifted on my feet. “Do you enjoy your work, Malfoy? In America? And here?”

Malfoy smiled…that wily, scoundrel-like smile. I felt my insides quiver, and I hated myself for it.

“I do. I was never one to hide myself away with stacks of books…not that that is wrong…but I prefer action, looking into people’s eyes to see if they are lying. I prefer justice after living a life of injustice and cruelty. I like my job, Granger, I like it because I am proving that I am not Lucius Malfoy’s little monster son.”

The wily smiled had transformed into a smile of repressed sadness, and I had to look away. I would now have to admit that I had been wrong about Malfoy…

Malfoy took a deep cleansing breath, and moved from the tree to my side. We began walking again, in silence.

Along the avenue of trees we came to a high stone wall. Beyond was a rolling green field with sheep and cattle grazing. The scene astonished me for it seemed the fields rolled on forever to the horizon. I could see no fences or barns, but to my far left, all I could see was trees. A literal forest of naked white trees flowed from the wall running behind me…and just at the edge of the trees I saw a structure, two stories with bluish smoke wafting from a chimney.

“That is where I live, Granger,” Malfoy said from my side, raising his hand to point.

Malfoy began walking along the wall, a worn earthen path marking the way, the cobbles having ended with the entrance through the wall. I stood still for a long moment, taking in the land, the animals, the trees, and the sublime essence of it all.

With a shout, Malfoy called for me to catch up, which I did, jogging along the path to walk behind him. As we neared the tree line, I saw that the structure was in fact a stable. Another opening in the wall, back toward the Manor provided me a view of another large garden, and another cobbled path.

The stables had not been abandoned, but had many horses inside stalls. A small paddock ran out from the back of the stables and into the trees…and as I turned to look back to the field, I saw two horses running and playing among the sheep. I wondered who took care of it all…surely not elves?

The second story of the stables was enclosed with a slate roof and windows very similar to those in my cottage. It was a handsome stable, and as we neared, the horses inside whinnied, and turned their faces to us. As a small girl, I loved horses although I lived in the suburbs and had only ridden once at a fair in the park.

Up some wooden stairs inside the stable, Malfoy let me into the house above.

“A couple hundred years ago, Malfoy Manor retained servants, thus the groom’s lodging. There used to be a servants dormitory not far from here…housing about sixty or so…and a dozen families. The dormitory was torn down during my great, great grandfather’s time to plant a hedge maze…” Malfoy said distantly, showing me from the vestibule of the entrance and into a small parlour, windows on either side, a built in padded bench rested below the front windows…the forest in the back and the fields in the front.

I was astounded. Against the back wall, between two windows was a large fireplace made of limestone, and large enough to use for Floo travel. Opposite the entrance, back into the house was a small kitchen, modernized. A door led to a bathroom which must have been magically enlarged…and behind all that, a set of sheer curtains at the very end of the house marked a makeshift bedroom. Behind the centralized bed, and set into the far wall, were wide French doors and a balcony providing a shaded view of the fields and the forest.

All in all, I was amazed. But it was not just the layout of the quarters, but what was inside. A worn leather couch rested before the fireplace, a worn red colour, a matching armchair off to one side of the fireplace. A gramophone rested near the front windows beside the bench, and stacks of records rested against the side of the built in furniture. Bookshelves adorned the walls, and prints of Muggle artwork. The plank floors were covered in old, frayed hook rugs, and as I moved toward the kitchen, I found stainless steel countertops, a sink, and cabinets with glass faces with old dishes inside.

The house was a combination of browns, reds, and greens, giving the place a rustic feel…like something you would see in a ‘country living’ magazine.

It was delightful.

“You live
here?” I asked incredulously, moving to the couch before the low burning fireplace.

Malfoy shrugged, moving to the kitchen.

“Did you expect me to live in the Manor?”

I turned, sitting upon the arm of the couch, crossing my arms, watching Malfoy move about the kitchen to make coffee in a pot set upon an antique wood fire stove…the only bit of the kitchen that was incongruous. I suspected the stove was magically fitted however.

“You are Draco Malfoy…”

“And my father is still Lord Malfoy,” Malfoy growled as he lit the stove wandlessly. “I hate London, I wouldn’t live there. So when I came back, I moved here.”

I did not understand the logic of Malfoy’s statement, but accepted it. As I looked around again, I could see that Malfoy had lived in the house. You could always tell if a house is lived in by the way possessions are positioned. The dirty coffee cup on a small desk next to the gramophone, a piece of discarded clothing on the bed, as I could see it through the sheer curtains. I did not want to bother with the bathroom.

I rose, moving to the gramophone, looking down at the record on the turntable, a smile bending my lips. Nat King Cole… Letting my wand slip from its holster and into my hand, I tapped the gramophone. Gingerly lowering the needle, soft music wafted through the room, wrapping everything in warmth and sound.

I stepped back, glancing into the kitchen where Malfoy was watching me with his silver eye.

“You surprise me, Granger. After the Clash, I didn’t think someone like you would like Nat King Cole…”

I straightened, leveling my gaze. “I like many different things, Malfoy. Music depends on my mood, and I felt in the mood to listen to Nat King Cole.

I’m surprised someone like you would even know who he was…”

Malfoy frowned. My comment had been unfair.

“Because I’m a Pureblood?”

I looked away, opening my mouth to apologize.

“I listened to a lot of music in school. And when I went to America, I was introduced to Nat King Cole, Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, Charlie Parker, Etta James…I can go on and on…but the fact is…I like it. But I also like David Bowie, the Rolling Stones, T-Rex, even the Ramones, the Buzzcocks…and a group called Devo.

Does that surprise you as well?”

I bit my lip. “But they’re all Muggle…”

Malfoy straightened, his hands on his slim hips. “So?”

I shook my head. It did not matter, not really. We did not speak for a long while, even after Malfoy passed me another cup of very strong coffee, him leaning against the counter and I perched on the arm of the couch. Nat King Cole crooned on, and his voice seemed to soothe the tension between us.

“Why a wyrm?” I asked when I felt it was safe to so.

Malfoy smirked, “I would have thought that was obvious, Granger.”

I took my turn to smirk. “Draco…”

Malfoy’s eye lifted to my face at the sound of his name, and I tried to ignore it.

“Draco the dragon. You couldn’t transform into a larger breed…so you picked the wyrm, a beast that is…” I trailed, my skin prickling under Malfoy’s gaze.

Nat King Cole kept singing.

“Do you think Potter will somehow change the past?” Malfoy asked distantly, staring into his coffee cup.

“Not if I can help it,” I answered, my conviction strong.

“So there isn’t anything you would go back and change, if you had the chance?”

I frowned. “I have had fantasies, of course…but, no. I may not be happy with the world as it is, but it is my world, a world I have lived to see. And I may not be happy with my life, but it is mine, and just because I’m in my late twenties does not mean that my life, my youth, or my drive to better myself are any less strong. I still have dreams I want to see come true…”

I felt very depressed all of a sudden. I meant every word I had said, but my life to that point had been lonely, and my dreams stashed away in some unreachable niche in my brain. I really did not know what my dreams were…or what I wanted.

You want love, acceptance, happiness, Miss Granger, how could have forgotten something so important?…Severus whispered.

“And what dreams are that, Granger?” Malfoy asked, his voice muted from the inside of his coffee cup.

I had hoped he would not have asked…

“Oh, the typical things, I guess.”

Malfoy hummed into his cup. Swallowing, he said, “You’ll have to define ‘typical’ for me, Granger, I’m not a girl.”

I rolled my eyes. He surely had been around enough girls in school to have an idea…

“A career, a lover or husband, a home, children, a family…happiness.”

Malfoy stared at me for a long while out of his one eye.

“All of those things are contingent to one’s happiness?”

I shrugged. “Sometimes, sometimes not. My mum always told me that we make our own happiness…someone else told me that not too long ago…” I trailed for a moment, hearing Severus laugh darkly. “But you just don’t make your own happiness, you have to work at it. Mum and Dad always worked together…in their career, in their home, and their love and family…and together in supporting me every way conceivable.

That is happiness to me. Working together toward a common goal.”

Malfoy set his coffee cup down, his face darkened with some far away thought. To my eyes he seemed sad, and I pitied him for only a moment.

“Potter had that happiness…and he threw it away because he could not let go of the past. Now everything is fucked up…” Malfoy muttered.

I drank the rest of my coffee to hide the trembling of my lips. Malfoy was right. Harry had achieved a type of happiness when he defeated Voldemort. He had achieved happiness by marrying the girl he loved. He had achieved happiness by having the Weasleys, the most caring of people, as his family. And he had happiness because of the love of his friends. But, apparently, it had not been enough. And for that I could hate him.

I was lost in my thoughts, so lost that I did not realize that Malfoy stood over me. When his pale hand reached to pluck my coffee cup from my hands, I gasped. I licked my lips, watching him place it on the nearby counter, and then turn to look at me, a strange smile upon his face.

He reached out his hand, and I, for lack of knowing what else to do, took it. He pulled me gently to my feet, and walked me around the back of the couch to the space between it and the gramophone.

“I feel like doing something out of character, Granger. Ever have those moments?” he asked, still holding my hand gently as he turned to face me, the light streaming through the window to his right making his hair appear like strands of silver as well as making the scar that ran down his face not look nearly as angry as before.

I swallowed thickly. “From time to time.”

Malfoy smiled…the smile that made think there was something wrong with my internal organs.

“Do you dance, Granger?”

I blinked. “Wha…?”

“Dance?”

I nodded dumbly.

“You see, when I feel as if I’m getting too wrapped up in something…or there is something that frustrates me to the point of physical discomfort, I do something out of character…like this…”

Nat King Cole’s ‘L-O-V-E’ began…and suddenly I was in his arms, dancing a quick step. I gawked as we danced, my body bumping into the couch, he nearly bumping into the gramophone. He was laughing at me, the scar stretching to accommodate. But, he was laughing, and it seemed the strangest thing in the world to me.

Slowly, like a glacier melting to nothing, I began to smile. His hand holding mine, his arm about my waist and our haphazard dance steps…it was totally ridiculous.

But, it did not matter. I was laughing. It felt like I had not really laughed in ages. It was hard for me to believe that Draco Malfoy was dancing me around his parlour to one of Nat King Cole’s faster songs, throwing his head back to bark laughter. The man who held me could not be that boy who had called me Mudblood in Second Year. He could not be the boy who had enlarged my teeth in Fourth Year…

We were panting as we laughed, and suddenly the world began to dissolve. Harry Potter did not matter, the deaths did not matter, all that mattered was the silly dance and our laughter.

This was a facsimile of happiness…

And then, the song changed.

Malfoy pulled me closer so that my breasts brushed against his ribs. My cheek rested upon his heart and his arm twisted tighter about my waist.

‘Stardust’…perhaps my favourite song by Nat King Cole. A little over three minutes in length, but as Malfoy danced with me, it seemed as if time had stopped.

I did not want to read into Malfoy’s actions…dancing was a distraction for the insane world we had come to live in, and the situations that had entangled us. But he smelled safe and warm, and in his arms I could almost allow myself to forget my fears of what would eventually come. I wanted to feel his arms around me, I wanted to soak in his warmth and scent, and I wanted to believe that I would always be safe in that place, in that moment.

I sighed as Malfoy ran a large hand over my shorn hair to the nape of my neck in a motion that soothed me. We danced in time with the music, my left hand clutching the hard muscle of his shoulder, my right hand enveloped by his, my face inhaling the very essence of him.

I ached. It had been a very long time since I had felt that ache…the ache of longing.

Malfoy held me closer, as if trying to shield my entire body. He released my hand and ran it along my side, while I grasped at the back of his jumper. We were no longer dancing, but embracing, and I was not afraid of his touch.

Taking half a step back, Malfoy placed a finger under my chin, raising my face to look at him. I stared at the scar, his silver eye, and the ghost of a smile on his lips. Even scarred, he was exquisite, not handsome any longer, but attractive in an imperfect, almost ugly way. I pushed my own self-consciousness away and smiled in return, his finger warm under my chin.

The song ended, and the next came on, another slow song…and Malfoy bent his shoulders forward, his face coming to mine…and I shut my eyes slowly.

I had said out of anger that this would never happen again…but I wanted it. I wanted it so badly that my hands shook, and my body burned to be touched.

I felt his breath against my face, and the warmth of his lips…

“Master! Master!” a tiny voice squeaked, accompanied by a slight thumping against the floorboards.

The spell had been broken.

I opened my eyes to see that Malfoy was looking to a tiny figure standing near the door. He held me fast, but the finger under my chin slid away.

“Squeak, for fuck’s sake, quit jumping!”

The elf, the one I had seen interacting with the Malfoy family more than any of the others, stopped jumping and folded in on itself, staring at Malfoy with overlarge, frightened blue eyes.

“What is it?” Malfoy snarled.

“There be a Floo call, sir, to the Main House. Williamson wants a word, sir.”

I blinked, glancing at Malfoy’s profile. The spell had indeed been broken.

“Is that it?” Malfoy growled to the elf.

“Yes, sir. Squeak is sorry, sir…” the elf sobbed before popping away.

Malfoy sighed, and closed his eye, turning his face back to me. He squeezed my frame, which surprised me.

“Time to get back in character, I guess,” he muttered, opening his eye to look down at my face. “Could you take care of the gramophone, Granger? I can call Williamson from here. I closed the connection on the Floo earlier, and disabled the klaxon…” Malfoy sighed.

With another squeeze that made my eyes widen, Malfoy pulled away, leaving only a cold spot in my arms and against my body.

I moved automatically, shutting off the gramophone as Malfoy moved to the fireplace, stoking it with Tom Riddle’s wand. I felt my face crumple slightly, although I could not understand why…

Throwing a bit of Floo powder into the fire, Malfoy knelt down and called a few words into the flame. I moved to sit at the small desk, my legs suddenly unsteady and my face burning with a blush. I had tears in my eyes, and I knew I ached for the spell to continue, the dream not to end…





“Is Granger safe?”

I shook myself from my newly depressed state at the sound of Auror Williamson’s voice. From where I sat in Malfoy’s little house, I could not see the face of the man whom Malfoy had been conversing.

“She is with me. What’s happened Williamson?” Malfoy growled, clearly alarmed by Williamson’s tone of voice, and question.

I stood, using the light desk chair to steady myself.

“Potter…he caught Macmillan late last night…and somehow managed to extract information about Granger’s whereabouts.”

Malfoy swore, and I stepped nearer so that I could see Williamson’s face over Malfoy’s shoulder.

“Macmillan was under a Vow.”

Williamson nodded. “And now Macmillan is at St. Mungo’s fighting for his life. Potter somehow learned the information by literally extracting the magic of the Vow, and tore through Macmillan’s mind.

Malfoy…no one has ever done such a thing. Macmillan is lucky to be alive, but he’s never going to be the same, even if he does survive. I know he was one your best, but now Potter knows Granger is at Malfoy Manor.”

“He wouldn’t dare come here, Williamson. Potter may have learned how to dismantle a Vow, but there are centuries of wards and protections on this property that it would take ages to unravel!” Malfoy spat, his body quaking with anger.

“There’s more…” Williamson said, his expression grave.

Malfoy fell back on his haunches, running a hand over the right side of his face in a gesture of frustration.

“Tell me then…”

“He’s also broken into a vault at Gringotts, weeks ago, but we’re just learning about it now.”

Weeks ago? Before or after his attack on us outside Hogsmeade?

“The goblins were not going to report it since it was a vault under his parent’s name. However, what he took from the vault is what is important.”

“What?”

“A cloak.”

Malfoy guffawed roughly. “A cloak? So wha-?”

“His invisibility cloak,” I inserted, moving around the couch to sit just to the left of Malfoy. “Merlin…when exactly was it taken from the vault?” I asked Williamson, whose face flickered a hint of surprise, and then amusement.

“Three days before the razing of Hogsmeade.”

Damn. The ambush on the lane…it made sense. Malfoy had sensed Harry, but could not see him. I did not see Harry either. At some point, Harry doffed the cloak while we were in the trees…

“Why didn’t the goblins detain him when he was in Gringotts?” Malfoy asked with an air of annoyance.

“You know how they are. Voldemort could have walked into the bank, and as long as he had a key, the goblins would take him to a vault,” Williamson said with a bit of an ironic laugh.

Malfoy and Williamson spoke longer, but I had retreated to an inner chamber of my mind, a chamber where Severus was waiting.

He has the three Hallows, now all he has to do is ‘conquer death,’ whatever that really means…Severus snarled.

“It just strengthens his chances on changing the timeline,” I said, only my lips moving, but no actual sound coming out for Malfoy or Williamson to hear.

It would never be as simple as allowing him to be immortal, would it? He wants to resurrect someone, at some point in time. With all three Hallows he would never have to fear losing his own life in the pursuit of changing the time line…Severus said, calmer.

“Yes. By being ‘death-proof’ if for some reason he fails in his task, he can go back over and over, resurrecting one or many people. Or, killing one or many people…”

You don’t think he would try to save me would you? I don’t want to be saved, I rather like where I am at the moment…Severus drawled.

“In my head? Don’t I get a say about it all?”

No. You have a task you must perform, Miss Granger. I am here to help you…Severus whispered.

“Who put you there?”

Who do you think?

I rolled my eyes as Severus fell silent again. I did not want to think about his last question. All that mattered was Harry having the Deathly Hallows, and how he would use them. Just as with Grindelwald, and his terrible plans to subjugate the world, Harry’s plans, or what I suspected of them, seemed just as horrific. And with Harry having the three Hallows only supported Malfoy’s theory that Harry did not care about the consequences of time travel… It frightened me.

“I have someone here demanding to speak with Granger.”

I stiffened at the sound of my name, and looked to the fire and to Williamson’s face.

“Where are you, Williamson?”

Williamson tutted, “Confidential. This Floo call will not be traced, not that I’m worried you would do something like that Malfoy…but let’s just say I’m not in Britain.”

I blinked, and cocked my head.

“Anyway, he’s been quite patient, so let me put him on…”

I slid from the couch to kneel next to Malfoy, then scooted a bit closer to the fire. A face appeared, and I cried out, pressing my hands to my mouth.

“Hey, Hermione…”

I could not believe it…Ron…

“How are you?”

Ron’s face was such a comfort, but I could tell that he was barely containing his anger and his concern. His hair was longer, much like Bill’s, pulled back in a ponytail. Crimson stubble ran along his jaw, and his eyes were just as blue as I remembered. Ron had grown into a handsome man, and I felt an itch of regret begin deep in my belly.

Tears were streaming down my face, and slowly I let my hands fall from my mouth so that Ron could see my trembling lips.

“I’m…I’m fine…”

“I know what’s been going on, Hermione, you don’t have to lie,” Ron said gruffly, his face becoming stony.

I cleared my throat of tears, and looked down to my knees.

“I’m just glad he didn’t…didn’t…” Ron trailed.

“I know,” I answered. “I’m alive. And I’m going to stop him, Ron.”

Ron took a breath, and nodded sharply.

“I just wish I could be there, Hermione…but Mum…she’s been ill ever since George…”

Tears streaked my cheeks anew.

“You know, Hermione…” Ron began, but hesitated, his eyes finding mine. “If you have to…kill him. He won’t stop…you know he won’t…”

I bit my lip roughly.

“I don’t know all of what is going on, but I have an idea. And if there is any chance that I’m right…you won’t be able to catch him.

Get it, Hermione?”

I did not move. I could not begin explaining what I thought Harry was trying to accomplish, it would take too long… But Ron was right. Harry was not going to have a change of heart. The Harry Ron and I loved was gone…

“And don’t let Malfoy get in your way either.”

I blinked. Apparently, Ron could not see Malfoy kneeling just by me.

“I do not like the idea of you being with him, Hermione. But I don’t have a choice in the matter, do I?

And I know you…you’re not going to leave this alone even if I begged you to…

I just can’t believe that Harry…” Ron trailed, his voice cracking. “What he did to you is unforgivable, luv. Not just for Ginny or George…but I would kill Harry for what he did to you…”

Ron choked, and quickly cleared his throat, turning his head to look back at something on his side of the connection, and nodded.

“I have to go.

Hermione, remember what I said. And when this is over, I’ll come for you if you want. The thought of you living with the Malfoys just makes me sick to my stomach…especially that git Draco…and I don’t care if he’s listening.”

Ron’s face turned outward in the direction of Malfoy, but could not see him.

“And Malfoy, if I find out you have done anything to Hermione, by Merlin, I will take that other pretty eye. You had better protect her!” Ron growled.

I felt Malfoy’s laughter, and I had an urge to elbow him in the face.

“Hermione, luv…be careful. I know its silly to say, but do. Mum and dad send their love…and…I…I love you too, Hermione.”

I nodded. “Be safe, Ron.”

“I’ll talk to you soon, Hermione…”

I nodded again, and suddenly the Floo connection was severed and Ron’s face disappeared in puff of green smoke. I wiped the tears on my cheeks, and sat on the floor before the low fire. I wrapped my arms about myself tightly and closed my eyes.

I heard Malfoy rise and move to the gramophone, changing the record. I hugged myself tighter as a low song began. I recognized that it was a record of American country-western music by the sound of a steel guitar, and part of me was astounded at Malfoy’s choice of music.

Part of me was thinking: how the hell did Draco Malfoy, Muggle-hater of an age, decide to play Patsy Cline’s ‘A Church, a Courtroom and Goodbye?’ The man was an enigma.

Slowly, I unfurled my body, moving to stand. As I turned, I found Malfoy in the kitchen again, making more coffee. I wiped my face once more, and moved so that I was near the curtains to the bedroom, leaning against the wall separating the kitchen and the bathroom.

“You realize now that Harry has all three Hallows, our situation has become dire?”

Malfoy was humming along with the next track, an upbeat song with Patsy Cline’s American yodel.

“We have got to go to London. We have to secure…or destroy the Time-Turners.”

Malfoy continued humming as he refilled our coffee cups.

“And now Harry knows where I am, and who has been protecting me…we will have to be disguised…”

Malfoy took up his coffee cup and drank, leaning back against the countertop.

“Are you listening to a word I’m saying, Malfoy?” I huffed.

Lowering his cup, Malfoy peered at me with his functioning eye. “I’m not deaf, Granger. And yes, I understand what you are saying.

If Potter tries to enter the boundaries of the Malfoy lands, even the Deathly Hallows won’t save him. The enchantments that protect this place are probably as old as the Hallows, if not older. It is definitely older than Hogwarts, so I’m not too worried about that.

As for your other concerns, I do not see a problem with what I proposed before. Floo to the Department of Mysteries under Polyjuice, do what we need to do, and leave. Once Potter learns he cannot use the devices, maybe he’ll get sloppy…and then…we catch him.”

I sighed. I somehow doubted it would be that easy. Actually, I was quite sure it would not be that easy. Harry was not stupid…mad, perhaps, but not stupid.

Destroying the Time-Turners…Merlin, I knew I could face time in Azkaban for destroying something so important to the Ministry. There were so few left, and manufacturing a new one was an art reserved for an unnamed and unknown few. The two larger Time-Turners were kept separate due to the amount of time ‘turned’ at each rotation of the hourglass…those would be the ones Harry would seek in any case… The larger Time-Turners were considered masterpieces of chronology, dangerous, and kept in a strong box of goblin manufacture.

I bit my lip as I watched Malfoy sip his coffee with a carefree attitude that made me want to punch him.

“So, the Weasel still loves you. Who would have thought?” Malfoy mumbled into his coffee cup.

I huffed, “That is not what he meant, Malfoy. As a friend…he loves me. We have been friends for years, so it is only natural that we love each other.”

“Ah, so you admit you love him…”

He was trying to rile me.

“Love is a multi-faceted concept, Malfoy. I’m sorry you have not grown to realize that.”

I pushed off the wall to move into the parlor, to the gramophone, shutting it off. I then moved to the window to look out onto the rolling green fields and the white dots of sheep grazing.

“Did you ever fall in love with someone, Malfoy?” I asked, slightly surprised at myself.

“A few times, but it was always agony…so I stopped falling in love,” he said from the kitchen, still drinking his coffee.

“That’s a shame,” I whispered, stepping closer to the window so that my breath fogged the diamond shaped panes.

“What was that?” Malfoy called.

“Nothing,” I returned.

I rested my forehead against the window, relishing the coolness against my skull.

I felt as if everything was futile. Stopping Harry…stopping the feelings, albeit muddled and confusing, I had for the ridiculous man staring at me from the kitchen. I did not know what I wanted, and it seemed my body did not know either.

I shut my eyes and let the cool glass suffice my skin and bones. I soon heard the patter of raindrops on the window and the roof above, and when I opened my eyes, I could see the clouds billowing and breaking to produce a violent spring shower. I straightened, removing my forehead from the glass, and took a step back…falling against Malfoy’s body. I had not heard him move.

“Ah…I guess we’ll have to wait the rain out before going back to the Manor…” he sighed, his hands moving to take hold of my shoulders, steadying me.

I frowned. We had wands…we could Transfigure anything into an umbrella, or cast a Charm to keep dry… I knew Malfoy was smart enough to realize that, but I felt he had some hidden agenda by keeping us in the groom’s quarters a while longer. So, I said nothing, but nodded slowly, my skin prickling at the warmth of his hands around my shoulders.

“Lunch…lunch first and then some ‘out of character’ fun?” he suggested softly, his breath warm against my short hair.

I said nothing, my brow furrowing. Focusing my eyes, I could just see part of Malfoy’s reflection in the window as the light outside was obscured by the growing storm. He was staring back at me.

“Over analyzing will only exhaust you, Granger. We have a plan of action, we will stick to it…that’s all that can be done for now,” he whispered with a hint of reassurance.

I wanted to believe that everything would work out. Remove the devices of our possible destruction; the problem would be solved…wouldn’t it? I bit my lip, and lowered my eyes to the windowsill. I had said I would stop Harry, but what would that mean? Would I really have to resort to killing my best friend? Surely with what Ron had said, he would not hesitate to kill Harry if need be. At any rate, Harry would die…whether he was caught or not. It did not matter if he had the Hallows…just like the story of the Three Brothers, the Hallows could be taken, stolen…

The pressing of lips to the nape of my neck shocked me out of my thoughts, and I forcefully jumped away from Malfoy, whirling about to stare at him with perhaps the silliest expression on my face.

“What are you doing?” I asked darkly.

“Something out of character. Diverting your thoughts away from whatever place you were…”

I blinked, my brow furrowing, my lips turning into a frown. “What is wrong with you, Malfoy?”

My words came out strangely, rough and hateful. I had not meant to sound so…terrible.

Malfoy straightened, his arms crossing before his chest, the dim light filtering in through the window behind me making his face and his scar seem to appear more hideous.

“There is nothing wrong with me, Granger. I might ask the same question of you.”

I shook my head. “You want to mock me, Malfoy. I will not play this game with you.”

With another turn, I moved to the door leading down into the stables.

“Where are you going, Granger?” Malfoy called, his voice seeming to penetrate the walls of my chest.

“To the Manor. There are more important things to do than to endure your attempts at diversion. I simply do not find it amusing,” I growled.

I nearly ran down the wooden steps into the stables, causing the horses inside to whinny at me. Just outside the open stable, the rain fell in torrents, pouring off the eaves of the stable roof to form deep ruts of erosion in the dirt. Casting my eyes about, I found an old canvas oat sack, and slipping my wand from my sleeve, I Transfigured it into a suitable umbrella. With another bit of wand work, my leather boots were rubber galoshes, and I pulled my skirt up to my knees, tying the linen so that it would not drag in the mud of the field.

I set off, the wind whipping my umbrella, gusts of rain dampening my face. The rain was icy, the wind wickedly cold, but I trudged through the mucky field to the path along the wall that would lead me back to the warmth of the Manor’s kitchens. I ignored the first gap in the wall, since I did not know where it led, and moved as best I could to the next gap and to the arboretum I had walked through only an hour or so before.

My galoshes slipped in the muddy soil of the path, and several times I nearly tumbled to the ground. I was panting, the walls of icy wind hindering my progress, and eventually, the wind took my umbrella.

I paused to watch the umbrella be battered upon the wind and then blow over the wall and out of sight. I sighed, wiping my rain soaked face…my luck had not been very good as of late, and I wondered if it ever had been in my favour.

Each step was a pain, as the mud weighed down my feet and the wind continued to assault my body. I tried to cheer myself with thoughts of a hot bath, some hot soup, and maybe a nice nap in a warm bed.

When my skirt came loose of the knots I had made, I had to walk with the hem pulled up in my hands, cutting down on my ability to affectively balance myself on the path. I was not surprised when my left foot slipped on the path, and I found myself rolling down a low hill into the field. I did not roll far, but I did manage to sprain my left ankle catching the toe of my boot on a large clod of dirt. Lying face down in the field, I huffed a roar of frustration, the rain pounding against my back and my now soiled and muddy clothing.

Despite everything, I began crying as if I had not cried in decades. Of course, I had cried quite a bit in the past few months, and I wondered why I had suddenly become so emotional and so silly.

I rolled onto my back, arms outstretched, crying as loudly as I could, hating my life and wishing I had another.

I was the world’s biggest fool. I knew so much about so many things, but I knew so little about much else. Harry Potter had nearly killed me, twice over. The world I had come to call home was falling apart. I had shunned Harry and Ron although I loved them more than I ever could admit. And at that moment, a part of me had and was still responding to Draco Malfoy as someone more than an annoying little boy who had called me terrible names. I knew nothing of friendship, of emotion, and most of all love.

As the raindrops pelted against my face, I willed Severus to say something witty to break my depression, but he remained silent.

Against my soaking, sodden back I felt the pounding of hooves, I ignored it. If I were to trampled by Malfoy livestock, it would be a fittingly silly death, but one that I would not mind in the least.

However, the pounding of hooves stopped short of me, and sound of boots squishing into the soggy field made me wince.

“For fuck’s sake, Granger…what the hell is wrong with you?” Malfoy’s gruff and angry voice sounded above me. He must have been leaning over me for I could no longer feel raindrops on my face.

I opened my eyes to find a seething, and very wet Malfoy staring down at me with his silver left eye. His hair was plastered to his head, and a riding cloak dripped onto my left hand. As I stared up at him, however, the expression of anger began to drain from his marred face…to an expression that made my heart quiver.

Kneeling down, Malfoy gathered my up against him as if I were a discarded cloak on the ground. His hands ran over my face and head as if to ascertain that I had not bashed my skull, then over my shoulders and arms. As he did this, he pressed his wet lips against my forehead, then his rough cheek as if to determine a fever. I allowed him to kiss my face, too wet and too cold to stop him.

However, when he lifted me to my feet, I fell, unable to place any weight up on my left ankle. Malfoy grumbled something indistinct, and lifted me up into his arms. Naturally, I wrapped my arms about his neck and pressed my face against his damp shoulder. He carried me to the horse he had ridden from the stables, and setting me on my good foot, he mounted, pulling me up as well so that I sat across his lap and low horn of the saddle.

I felt like some heroine in a Jane Austen novel, and I laughed into Malfoy’s neck. He stiffened for a moment, wrapping his arms tighter around me, his left hand grasping the reigns. Turning the mount about, I could see that I had walked a good distance from the stables, and if had I not slipped and rolled, I would have been only a few paces from the gap in the wall.

Malfoy goaded the horse with a light nudge to the beast’s flanks, and I gasped as suddenly I felt as if I were flying forward, about to fall. My experiences with flying on a broom came to the forefront my mind…I did not like flying, and I suddenly did not like riding. I clung to Malfoy as tightly as I could, shutting my eyes and hiding my face in the side of his neck. The jarring gallop of the horse made my ankle hurt worse, and I wondered idly if I had broken it. That would have been my luck… After nearly dying after Harry’s assault, wasting away after a covertly placed curse, a broken ankle should not have bothered me. But, I was miserable, depressed, wet, muddy, hungry, and cold. I had lost control of my world…

Malfoy steered the horse into the shelter of the stables, and with a gracefully and practiced move, he slid off the saddle with me pressed tight against him. Whispering to the horse, Malfoy carried me up the stairs and back into the dry warmth of the groom’s quarters.