Not All that Glitters is Gold

scarletwitchextreme – Thank you so much for the compliment! I really want to improve my story writing skills and having good reviews from people such as yourself only help me want to improve! Hehe! I do admit that this story started off something completely different than what it’s turning out to be. ::SIGH:: Hopefully it’s still good. I don’t plan on making it easy for Draco, after all he has A LOT to prove. Not only to himself, but to Hermione and the rest of the Order. We’re seeing a lot of complications on both fronts but hopefully they’ll be willing to put their differences aside. I like to make Harry more mature out of the three only because he’s been through so much and he wants to end the war just as bad, if not more, than any one else. If he has to partner with Draco, then so be it. Unlike Ron, my Harry is more willing to look past faults and strive for a common goal. But that’s my bit of rambling!

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She hadn’t been feeling well since she returned to the Burrow. With everyone swarming her, she felt like she wanted to vomit and she had several times afterward. It was only when Mrs. Weasley made it clear that everyone needed to give her air did she finally get some time to collect herself. Ginny helped her to her room and initially spent all of her time with her. But eventually Hermione asked to be alone. During that time of solitude she cried. Cried for everything she had been through. The emotional scaring that appeared on her body would never disappear. No one could see it but she could. She could FEEL what she experienced etched into her skin like burn wounds.

Yet, she couldn’t find anger within her anymore. She wanted to be angry with Draco, with Lucius, with everyone but she couldn’t. She was too bloody exhausted to feel anything but exhaustion. Professor Snape was the only one permitted into Ginny’s room, as requested by Hermione. There he helped piece her back together, mending her wounds but never really putting her soul back into her. She was a shell of the girl she used to be, but that didn’t mean she was a zombie of some sort. No. At times like these, being a hollow person would only get you and those you love killed. She fought everything that held her down; even exhaustion had lost the battle.

Draco’s words haunted her, “I came back from the dead for you. And I’ll prove it. I’ll show you what I’m made of. I’ll make you love me.” It was as if those words came from a different person altogether. At first she was sure it was Professor Snape who had informed the Order what Hermione went through, but even he didn’t know the half of it. An outsider cannot possibly tell some one else’s story correctly, but she didn’t want to tell her side. She wanted to get on with life and fight, end this stupid war and move on.

When she first saw him at breakfast, his eyes glittered with emotions she couldn’t comprehend. He gave his position, his life, to protect her. Why? Because she had made him believe, in a rather short time, that she loved him. She didn’t. She loathed every fiber of his being, yet when she spoke to him. When she cleared the mess she had caused, he acknowledged and even accepted her supposed betrayal. For what? For a chance to prove himself? He wasn’t trying to prove it to her. No. He was trying to prove to the world that he was different. He wasn’t just a Malfoy, he was his own person who made mistakes and learned from them.

Would it be so bad of her to give him that chance? Even after he put her through those weeks of torture, forcing himself on her, breaking her bones and spirit? She didn’t know. She didn’t want to know.

Hermione took a deep somber breath as her eyes fluttered open. Staring into Ginny’s ceiling, she brought her hand to her stomach, which was not only rumbling from hunger but also queasy. She needed to vomit again, but she was hesitant. She couldn’t keep much food down without throwing up. Professor Snape had mentioned that she was going to feel ill for the next few months, probably because of her lack of nourishment for the past two months she had been in Malfoy’s care. One could only survive on fruit for so long after all.

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By the time she climbed down the stairs, her head reeling from moving so quickly. In reality, she was sure a snail could out pace her but her body was still fighting the exhaustion. She found several Order members crouched in the living room of the Burrow. They were slumped over a small table with what looked like a map of some sort. This instantly brought into mind the Marauders’ Map Harry was given their third year.

Molly was the first to look up, and the first to get up as well. For a woman with a house full of people, she was surely spry and nimble. Hermione barely made it to the bottom step before Molly was planted firmly in front of her, her soft hands grasping onto Hermione’s arm to help her down.

“What’s going on?” Hermione asked, managing to free herself as she sat on the couch beside Tonks and Kingsley.

She felt eyes on her, but none stared at her with the intensity that Draco was. He sat firmly between Harry and Snape, his hand clenched on his knee. She could feel her cheeks reddening from his stair but was sure Molly had interpreted it as something else because as soon as her cheeks turned pink, something cold hit her in the forehead. A cloth dripping with ice water was plastered onto her head, Molly holding onto it lightly until Hermione could reach up and grab it for herself. She mumbled a thanks and looked back to everyone.

“We’re looking at the maps of the Malfoy Manor,” Remus replied, noticing how no one answered her question. “We have reason to believe that with Lucius’ failure to…ahem…keep you in his…”

“What Lupin is trying to say,” Harry interrupted, knowing that Remus was having a difficult time talking about what exactly Hermione had been through – which annoyed her to some extent. She was still alive wasn’t she? She didn’t need to be handled like a porcelain doll.

Harry grew quiet as well, his cogs turning in his head to fashion words. There was an eerie silence that caused Hermione’s face to turn red, not with embarrassment but with anger. Why had everyone been tip toeing around her since she was rescued? Just come out with it alright, her mind screamed.

“My father will be punished by the Dark Lord because he was unable to keep you in the manor,” Draco finally said, his own words seething with frustration. “The Da – Voldemort will not let some one else punish him, he’d want to do it himself. Professor Snape and I were able to recreate the map of the manor from our memories and the memories of...”

Hermione noticed a small house-elf sitting on the floor beside Draco’s foot. It was Wilky. She looked anxiously at Hermione with a small smile, rubbing her arm on Draco’s shoe even after he nudged her to stop. In her lap was a small pensieve, one that looked twice the size of the little House-elf, filled with silver strands of memories. It swirled around in circles before growing still and swirling the other direction.

“So, we’re going to attack the manor?” Hermione asked, bringing her eyes to the map where she noticed several floating names of Death Eaters.

Lucius was in his room pacing around his desk, while Bellatrix stood outside alongside her husband. It was obvious he was being kept there against his will, probably waiting for Voldemort to appear.

“We aren’t going to do anything,” Ron finally said, “YOU are going to stay behind. WE,” he pointed around to everyone, even Malfoy, “Are going to end this thing.”

“What!” Hermione snapped, “If you think I’m just going to sit by and let all of you go you’re wrong! Dead wrong!”

“Hermione dear, considering your health…” Molly spoke quietly, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m healthy. I’m fine!” The curly-haired witch shouted, her fists clenching, “I will not stand by while my friends fight!”

“A calming potion?” Arthur Weasley asked Snape, who had risen from his seat.

“NO!” Hermione yelled, standing up quickly. She batted away the feeling of vertigo and continued to shout, “I am not a child! What happened to me was unfortunate,” she looked to Draco, whose jaw was clenched but he said nothing, “But I am not some weak person who needs others to tip toe around her!”

“Her-my-ninny,” Viktor said from behind Harry and Draco, “It is for the best if you stay behind.”

“I WILL NOT STAY BEHIND!” Hermione slung a blanket from her and charged up the stairs, ignoring the overwhelming feeling to collapse and retch on the floor.

She managed to reach Ginny’s room and slammed the door as hard as she could. Throwing herself onto the bed, Hermione growled with frustration. Her eyes scanned the room when she heard the door pop open.

“Go away Ginny!” Hermione snapped, turning around. She grew quiet.

“Hermione,” Harry said in a quiet voice, closing the door with both hands and ensuring that it was locked.

“Not you too, Harry.” She replied sitting up on the bed, her hand clenching onto the bed spread. “If thy think that you can convince me to…”

“Just…let me say what I have to say, ok?” He sat on the bed beside her and let out a sigh. “I know what happened to you, more than every one else. Malfoy…Draco gave me the memories of your time there. I can’t say that I didn’t want to blow his bollocks off and put it on a mantle above the fireplace for what he did to you.”

He wrapped an arm around Hermione, pulling her close as tears began to ebb from the corners of her eyes. She reached out and grasped onto his shirt, tugging at him to hold her closer.

“I won’t stop you from joining the fight, Hermione.” Harry continued, “But I will ask you not to.”

“I’m sorry Harry,” Hermione whispered, “But I have to help. You know I do.”

Her best mate chuckled against her, sighing a little, “Yeah. I guess you’re going to need this then.”

She pulled back and looked at him as he reached into his pocket and pulled a wand out. HER wand. Hermione felt the loving embrace of her wand in her hand, her magic flowing through her at that moment. She cried. Again. And leapt at Harry with her arms around his neck.

“Oh Harry!” Hermione sobbed into his neck, “How’d you…I was certain they took it when…”

“Apparently Lucius likes to collect things.” Harry replied with a mild shrug, “Draco had Wilky get into his father’s bureau and snatch it for us. He’s against all of this you know.”

“What do I care?” Hermione groaned into Harry’s neck, finally pulling away from him.

“You know,” Harry rose from the bed, watching Hermione fiddle with her wand, swishing it very much like she had during their first year in Flitwick’s class. “He does love you.”

Hermione froze and looked at him with narrowed eyes, “What?”

“Even after all those horrid memories I experienced, even I could see how much he loves you.” Harry pried the door open, “Doesn’t mean I want to be friendly with him. I still have the right mind to let Ron at him and not do a damned thing but I thought you’d like to know.”

“Why would I want to know Harry? He’s a monster.”

Harry shrugged, “Not all of us are that convinced. I’ll give you some time alone. Pretend you’re sleeping if Mrs. Weasley decides to check in on you and don’t drink anything unless Ron, Ginny or I give it to you. I have a feeling they’re trying to sneak Sleeping Draught to you so you’d stay behind.”

“Harry?” Hermione sat at the edge of the bed just as Harry was about to disappear. He turned and looked at her with his mother’s eyes, “Thank you.”

He nodded and closed the door behind him, leaving Hermione to her thoughts. She looked at her wand and pointed it at a quill that sat on Ginny’s desk.

“Accio quill!” Hermione said, swishing and flicking. The quill shot up and straight at Hermione with wicked fast speed. Oh how she missed her magic.