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!


NOTE: The Beltane rites mentioned in this chapter are mostly written with great artistic license. I do not observe Beltane, but the observance is interesting to me. Also, the MA rating kicks in here, most assuredly.


The Fool, the Emperor, and the Hanged Man

Part 18





Narcissa and I walked to a place she called Horned Hill, the place that Lucius had mentioned as the location of the small henge. From the stables, the walk took half an hour over several hills out into the fields. We passed a brook wending between the downlands, and several oak trees dotting the hilltops and vales.

Narcissa had told me before we had left the groom’s quarters that I could carry my wand in the side pocket of the dress, I still kept my two wands concealed from everyone, but Malfoy. Narcissa also told me that I could not join the initial ceremony and lighting of the bonfire. I had to stand outside the innermost stones while a spell would be cast so I could not hear Lucius’ words since I was not part of the family. She explained that centuries before when the Malfoys had servants and others living under the family’s protection that they would stand where I would stand…a spectator in the family rite. I would join afterward when the rites had been said. The walk to the stones would be done in silence as well…and so we walked the only sound being the distant wind, and brays of the sheep.

All the while, as we walked, I wondered if Malfoy would be there. Narcissa had said nothing to the fact Malfoy would be missing the family rite, but Lucius had said that Malfoy would definitely be back by Beltane…and it was Beltane. I was growing anxious…just to see him.

I berated myself for feeling like some silly schoolgirl hoping to see a crush, but I could not help myself. After weeks of not even hearing from him, I was beginning to fear that he was keeping something important about Harry from me. I felt as if I had been cut out of his loop…and out of his realm of protection…and out of his feelings… It had been frustrating me ever since he had left.

Narcissa took my hand as we neared Horned Hill, the only light coming from the cloudless starry sky and a half moon. In the absence of any other light, the moonlight and starlight was enough.

Horned Hill lived up to it name, the silhouette of two tall stones making up what I believed to be the east and west markers. The western stone was slightly taller than the eastern stone, but both were as large as those in the inner circle at Stonehenge. The north and south stones were as tall as a man of good size. Smaller stones between the cardinal stones formed the inner circle. A second circle of good size boulders similar in size to a hippogriff formed the next ring, and the outermost circle was made of smaller boulders about the height of a standard chair. In the centre of the circle were four slabs of stone, each about the size of the bed I slept in at the groom’s quarters. These slabs seemed more like benches, marking the cardinal directions. And in the very centre of the circle was the brush for the bonfire. The central portion was large enough that a line of people could dance easily between the intended bonfire and the benches.

Narcissa led me a space between the inner and second circles, motioning that I could sit upon one of the hippogriff sized boulders. Pressing a finger to her lips, she smiled, moving around the stones. There was a strange hum as she entered the inner circle, and I glanced around, unable to see the entire centre portion for the large horned stones. I did not move however, pleased with my perch atop the boulder, folding my hands in my lap, and wondering how many people had been in my exact position through the centuries.

A sudden flaring of light in the centre circle signified midnight, and the bonfire lit. It was then I saw Lucius, his long, pale hair pulled back in a thong high on the back of his head. He was dressed in what I thought to be Death Eater’s robes, but on closer inspection, I saw that under the robe he wore a sleeveless jerkin of black leather, his pale arms visible as he moved his lips, and raised a rowan branch before the fire.

The hum I had felt had been the activation of a silencing sphere around the inner circle.

Narcissa stood next to him, her pale eyes flickering with reflected firelight. I noticed that she seemed to repeat everything Lucius said.

Another flash of fire, a pale green colour…and Malfoy seemed to appear at Lucius’ right. From the angle I sat, I could not see Malfoy’s entire visage, just the right side of his face. His hair seemed to have grown in the weeks since he had been gone, and it hung about his face in shaggy silver strands. He was not wearing his eye patch, and I could see that his scar had also seemed to heal in his time away, the skin not nearly as red. The mark did not look as ugly as it had. Malfoy was wearing a sleeveless jerkin as well, but it was open down the front…and I thought I saw he had a mark over his heart…a rune. I could not be sure from my vantage point.

Lucius stopped speaking, and turning to Narcissa, moved with her about the circle so that Malfoy took his father’s spot.

Pulling a small hawthorn branch from his robes, as if producing like a Muggle magician, Malfoy’s lips moved. By the tension in his shoulders, I wondered if his left, silver eye was pouring that tension into the fire. He raised the hawthorn branch once, and brought it down in a slicing motion so that it hung from his right hand limply. He paused…and turned to look at me…

My breath caught, not expecting him to notice my presence.

He smiled strangely, and turning back to the bonfire, spoke again, this time Lucius and Narcissa repeating his words. Both hawthorn and rowan went into the fire producing a flash of magical fire in silver and green.

Then, Lucius and Malfoy did something that made me gasp and slap my hand to my mouth. Producing a small blade from their robes, they simultaneously cut the palm of their left hands, closing their fingers so that blood pooled in their palms.

More words, and both men opened their hands and turned their palms downward so that their blood fell to the stones and soil beneath their feet.

As this happened, a wave swept through me…a visible wave of magic pulsed from the centre circle and outward in every direction, disappearing in silver light over the hills and over the lands.

Blood magic was how the Malfoys were able to maintain their protections. Blood magic was the most powerful magic a witch or wizard could perform, and I had been privy to one of the Malfoy family’s most powerful spells. I assumed that the actions I had witnessed and the words I was not allowed to hear were all parts of one spell. It would be impossible to break such an intricate spell, and I supposed that was the point of casting it.

“Stuck up there, Granger?” Malfoy asked from the inner circle, and I realized the silencing sphere had been dispelled.

I smiled, which made Malfoy blink at me with his left eye as he adjusted his eye patch over his right, apparently only taking it off for the rite.

“No. I was literally awed to silence and inaction,” I called back, honestly.

I leapt down from the boulder easily, my braids swaying around me. “Can I come to the fire?”

Malfoy nodded as Lucius and Narcissa moved around the circle to be near. I entered slowly, still feeling a residual pulse of magic in the inner circle. Glancing down to the stones under my feet, I watched as Malfoy’s blood was soaked quickly into the ground. I looked to his hand, and found that the wound had been sealed and only a thin red line adorned the palm.

“When the family was larger, they would sit on the benches and talk about the plans for the coming summer,” Lucius said, his eyes moving over my arms before glancing to Malfoy who seemed to be doing the same thing. Narcissa glanced between husband and son curiously, and then looked to me. My eyes pleaded with her and she nodded, not asking the obvious question.

“Since we are a small number, ‘Cissa and I will sit to the north and the two of you can sit to the east,” Lucius finished, meeting Malfoy’s eye…an amused glint of silver in those orbs.

Malfoy sighed and inclined his head the bench nearest to my back, and we sat, I on the inside. Lucius and Narcissa sat to my right, Narcissa closest to me.

“There is not much to talk about, Father. Plans for the summer? Kill Potter…save the world. That just about sums it up,” Malfoy said with the sarcasm I had missed in the past weeks.

“Miss Granger?” Lucius asked, his eyes, now filled with mirth, resting upon me.

I sighed. “What Malfoy said…unfortunately.”

Narcissa frowned, not at what had been said, but at the truth of the sarcastic statement.

“Well, I, not having the task to either kill Harry Potter or save the world, will have the Manor repaired by Samhain at the latest. The entire house is being redone to purge the French influences and to return to the Manor of our ancestors…in a more ‘Manor House’ style,” Lucius said with flair.

I smirked.

“’Cissa?”

Narcissa rolled her eyes, and I had to keep from letting a laugh escape.

“I want to redo some of the gardens…perhaps.”

It seemed suddenly that there was nothing more to be said, and Lucius sighed.

“Even with a guest this year, Beltane is just as dull as ever.

We should have had more children, my dear, then we could have songs, a dance, food…and the elves could provide some entertainment. Alas, the elves are rebuilding our home…” Lucius drawled, the Malfoy sarcasm simply flowing through the night air. “Miss Granger, I am sorry that this Beltane was not more interesting for you.”

I smiled. “It was interesting to me, being an outsider.” Outsider…it sounded so cold, but I could not think of a better word to use.

“Should have seen Beltane back when the ‘Dread Lord’ was alive, Granger. If you find Beltane boring now, you should have seen it then…” Malfoy whispered, leaning close to me, the heat from his body hotter than that of the bonfire. “But, Samhain is always fun with our family. We have a party, dance, eat, drink, play ‘find the naughty, drunk wench in the hedge maze,’ and wake up in the morning in the dungeons or in the stables,” Malfoy said aloud for his parents to hear.

Narcissa snorted a laugh, glancing to her husband.

“Of course, most of our usual guests are in Azkaban or dead now…” Malfoy muttered with no hint of remorse. “Even Imbolc is better…”

Lucius’ voice interrupted Malfoy’s musings.

“These plans of yours, Miss Granger, I should inform you that Draco has given ‘Cissa and I detailed descriptions of what you might have to do…” Lucius said darkly, his eyes meeting my own.

I stiffened, wanting to glance at Malfoy, berate him…but I could not. Instead, I sighed.

“Then you know that the possibility of having to travel back thirteen years is becoming more and more likely?”

Lucius nodded as Narcissa’s face fell. “Potter will not be found until he decides to use the Time-Turner.”

“We have not found a trace of him, Weasley and I have scoured every possible place, arrested scores of W.A.T.C.H. members and sympathizers…but we are putting ourselves in a dangerous situation by holding these people, all for the sake of capturing one,” Malfoy supplied, and I finally gazed at him, his expression grave, his mouth tightened in anger.

“The anniversary…you have considered that?” Lucius asked Malfoy.

I blinked. The 10th Anniversary of the Fall of Voldemort…it was ten days away.

“You need to prepare for the eventuality,” Narcissa added softly.

I agreed. Plans had to be made, contingencies covered…

“We can help you there, Miss Granger,” Lucius said, wrapping an arm about his wife’s waist.

“But let’s talk about something else. It is Beltane. Let’s remember that the Dread Lord is gone, and we are still alive…the timeline has not changed yet!” Narcissa asserted with a good deal of force, sitting straighter against her husband.

I smirked. She knew my theory about Harry changing the timeline, and I wondered how long she had known. Hours? Days? Longer? I doubted that she had known for very long.

Conversation seemed to fall from the air to die on the stones below. We all were too consumed with thoughts of Harry Potter, Voldemort, the past, and the future. I was staring thoughtfully at the bonfire, when Lucius rose, straightening his robe and reached down to take his wife’s hand.

“I bid you both a good night…Draco, your mother and I are going back to the bothy, I leave you to the bonfire,” Lucius said, his eyes moving to me and back to Malfoy again.

Narcissa smiled at Malfoy and I, and quickly followed her husband out of the inner circle and into the night. I watched them disappear into the darkness, and my eyes scanned the horizons. Far away, on a distant hill kilometers upon kilometers away, was a speck of another bonfire…and it cheered me after so many maudlin thoughts about what had to be done in the coming days. I wondered how far it was to the Malfoy bothy from Horned Hill, and why the Malfoys had left so suddenly…

“They are going home to finish the rites,” Malfoy muttered as if reading my mind, leaning back on the bench so that his palms rested upon the worn surface of the rock. As he did so, his robe slipped from his shoulders to reveal his pale, muscular arms. The leather jerkin spreading open and I could see that there was indeed a rune upon his chest, just above his heart.

“What rites are those?” I asked absently, trying to place the rune into a context I might know.

Malfoy turned his head to me, his hair falling into his face. “Take a guess, Granger…”

I smirked, trying not to think too much. “They are Lord and Lady…”

“They are the randiest parents I have ever heard of…it is a wonder that I don’t have about twelve younger siblings.”

“Contraceptive Charms…” I mumbled.

Malfoy snorted, leaning forward so that his bare elbows rested on his knees.

“What does the rune above your heart represent?”

Malfoy glanced down at his chest and grinned.

“Why haven’t you asked what your runes mean?”

I licked my lips. “I don’t know if I want to know.”

“It means ‘heir.’”

I frowned.

“My rune. It means ‘heir,’” Malfoy repeated. “Someday it will said ‘lord,’ but I’m contented with ‘heir’ for the time being.”

“And your mother’s?”

“That’s private, Granger.”

I found Malfoy’s answer amusing, and sighed.

“Want to finish the rite?”

“Hm?”

Malfoy rose to his feet and moved around the bonfire to the west ‘horn.’

“There is actually a little more to our version of Beltane than this, Granger,” Malfoy called from behind the west marker, returning to the light of the bonfire with a bottle of what looked like wine and a goblet made of pewter.

“And you were waiting for your parents to leave?” I suggested as Malfoy sat down cross-legged on the bench, facing me.

Malfoy smiled mischievously, opening the wine and pouring a large portion into the goblet resting on the bench. I turned to him, adjusting my dress to ape his body position.

“So drinking is part of your rites of Beltane?” I asked softly as Malfoy set the bottle beside the bench and took the goblet into his hand.

“Isn’t it for everyone?” he asked in mock horror.

I raised an eyebrow. “I drink at Beltane…and all the other observances…usually Firewhiskey,” I said in a sigh.

Malfoy pursed his lips in feigned distaste and raised the goblet.

“You have heard of some people celebrating the Goddess and Great Horned God on Beltane?”

I nodded.

“Well, it is a more modern convention of the ancient origins of Beltane. Beltane is the celebration of summer…basically, but it is a fertility rite…maybe not as much as Imbolc, but you understand what I am saying?”

I nodded again.

“The Malfoys make a toast which pertains to Beltane…especially if the circumstances are just right. But first, we toast. The Malfoy heir, which is always male, and then the lady…”

Malfoy raised his glass, “I drink to thee, my Lady,” he said softly, his lips wrapping about the rim of the goblet, drinking deeply.

When he lowered the goblet, he smirked, pressing the pewter into my hand. I grasped the stem, looking into the darkness of the cup.

“It is a good wine…” Malfoy insisted. “Now you toast, Granger.”

I hesitated, “We might be heading into the possibility of certain death, Malfoy, does this thought bother you at all?”

Malfoy frowned at my words, and that I was not toasting him, “With Potter? Of course, it bothers me. Death means defeat.”

I sighed. “I am afraid, Malfoy, as much as I hate to admit it…and no matter what precautions we take, nothing will the be easier…”

My eyes moved to the bonfire. I would have to kill Harry, I would have to go back in time to possibly see faces of those whom I had loved and lost. I would have to conceal my very existence, and face Harry alone. I had no preconceived notion that Malfoy would go with me, and fully expected to return to 1995 alone. But there was a small hope, that if I would have to go to my death, Malfoy would go with me.

I could not say why I felt that way, and I could not ask Malfoy out right to die at my side.

“Where have you been?” I asked, my voice no louder than a whisper, turning my eyes to Malfoy’s face.

He wrapped his hand around mine as I held the goblet. “From Wales to Ireland, Scotland to the Canary Islands…on a chase after a shadow. The only possible place we can conceive to catch Potter is Hogwarts…in ten days.”

I looked down to his hand around mine. “You want me to go, don’t you? As bait.”

Malfoy smirked. “You mentioned once that you did not mind being used as bait, so why the hesitant look in those honey eyes now?”

“I don’t want to go…I don’t want to have to see the people who will come…I don’t want to be stared at…”

“You’re going, Granger. Besides, the ceremony will be small…it is some placing of a commemorative marker upon the grounds…and you can use a cloak like you did when I first saw you again after so many years…like a shield,” he said, pausing. “It could be our last chance to stop him…”

“I do not think Harry will even bother appearing, Malfoy…but other might come, others like the W.A.T.C.H., and more innocent people could be hurt or killed,” I mumbled, Malfoy’s hold over my hand loosening so that the base of the goblet rested up on his crossed right knee.

I sighed. I sat among enchanted stones, close to the man I had missed and thought about for weeks. It was Beltane, a time when the world of the spirit and world of the flesh were so near. It was possibly because it was Beltane that I could feel that the inevitable seemed closer, and I wondered if I had made some colossal blunder somewhere along the years after the Last Battle

“My life as been wasted…” I muttered.

Malfoy touched my face. “Not yet.”

I snorted and raised my eyes to Malfoy. Earnestly, “You have no idea…”

He grasped my chin between his thumb and forefinger, smirking down at me. “What did you want to be, Granger?”

“I wanted to be wicked…” I answered.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I have been too good…”

Malfoy released me, and helped me raise the goblet of wine to my lips. “Drink to me, Granger…I have drank to you…” he whispered, his silver eye glinting in the bonfire’s light.

I did not feel very comfortable about toasting the Malfoy heir, but I raised the goblet, knowing that Malfoy would annoy me to no end if I did not. “I drink to thee, my Lord.”

I drank, and drank deeply, just as Malfoy had in his toast to me…the Lady, and found that he was not lying when he said it was a good wine. It was a red wine, but I, knowing so little about wine at all, knew not much more than the color.

I swallowed, finding that the bitter aftertaste was not entirely unpleasant.

“Very good. Now I’m going to tell you what your runes mean, Granger,” Malfoy said in a voice that immediately had me on edge.

He plucked the goblet from my hand and drank more, moving to refill the cup. Pressing it into my hand again, I drank…I had a feeling that whatever Malfoy was going to tell me, might be more palatable with some alcohol coursing through me. I drank the rest of the goblet, noting that Malfoy seemed genuinely surprised when he found the goblet empty. He did not refill it.

“My mother told you that these runes could only be read by Malfoy men?” Malfoy asked.

I nodded…the wine already coursing through me. I did not drink wine for that particular reason.

“What she said was true. The runes are part of a system developed by an ancestor who used to the runes to guard his writings on the spells he was creating. After several generations, the Malfoy heirs began using it for other purposes. That being said, you will never know what the runes mean…and I know that that fact must burn you…”

I said nothing, but stared at Malfoy’s face in the bonfire light.

“But I digress…your runes. The runes that symbolize something very important to you, something you might want…desire.

Do you know what they might mean, Granger?” Malfoy asked moving his left hand to touch the runes on my right wrist.

“I do not know, Malfoy, and I would rather not delay the inevitable truth…so tell me.”

Malfoy’s eye glittered as it moved over my bare arms.

“Let me see your legs…”

“They are the same.”

Malfoy sighed, “I’m not asking you to strip, just let me see…”

I bit my lip and unfolded my right leg so that my slipper rested on the stone, the toe just touching Malfoy’s folded legs. I moved to lift the hem, but Malfoy’s left hand slid up my leg, his fingertips grazing my skin so that the hem was lifted to my knee and the dark green runes were visible.

“Granger?” he said in slight questioning, his eyes moving down my leg.

“What?” I huffed.

“What were you thinking about when my mother cast the spell?” he asked softly, his left eye moving up my leg to my face.

I tilted my head slightly, staring at the rune on Malfoy’s breast, honestly trying to think of what to say in answer. I knew I could not tell Malfoy about Severus’ voice whispering to me, or that I had grown anxious at the thought that I would see him after weeks of missing him…

“I cannot really say. I was a bit overwhelmed by your mother trying to dress me like I was a doll…” I whispered, my sight sharpening over the strange rune, which I could still not associate with the meaning Malfoy had supplied.

Malfoy smiled, his fingers tracing down the top of my leg to the top of my foot.

“What does it say?” I asked, shivering slightly at his touch.

He grinned.

“My name.”

I lifted my shoulders to sigh, but stopped short, blinking. I stretched my left arm outward, and lifting it to the firelight, I squinted at the runes. A blush crept up from my chest to my cheeks.

“You’re lying,” I said in a very matter-of-fact tone.

Malfoy’s right hand grasped my left wrist and pulled my hand to place it over his heart. I opened my mouth to protest as my palm warmed, his heart beating steadily and strongly. I met his eye.

“You only say that because you know that it is true. You were thinking of me when Mother cast the spell…”

I shook my head, ready to vehemently deny his words. Of course, I could never know for certain what the runes meant…but I knew…I knew that Malfoy was speaking the truth.

The knowing glances between father and son were a type of confirmation.

His hand moved from my ankle to cup my cheek, but I refused to see whatever emotion was playing over his face. I could not bear to see that he was laughing at me…

“You are wicked, Hermione…” he whispered.

My breath caught…he had said my name, and it had sounded like music falling from his lips. A single tear slipped down my warm cheek, but I did not cry. Malfoy shifted to kneel before me, and pressing a kiss into my forehead, another tear fell. His lips moved over my face as my hand slipped from his heart to grasp his leather jerkin.

Our lips met, and I surged upward to meet his mouth, tasting wine in his kiss. He held my left hand in his, his fingers weaving through mine to pull my arm to wrap about his neck.

Falling back onto the bench, Malfoy hovered over me so that he knelt between my knees, my skirts riding up my thighs. I sighed into our kiss, my hands moving about his neck while his left hand slid up my thigh, pulling my dress to my hips.

Malfoy pulled away slowly, his fingers moving to the girdle belt about my waist.

I stared up at him, at his reddened lips, his mussed hair, his shimmering silver eye. I was panting, my hands moving to remove the patch he wore so that I could see his face without any part being obscured. Even with a scar running from his hairline to near the corner of his mouth, I found his pale hair and skin bewitching in the bonfire’s light. The girdle belt opened, and Malfoy pulled it away so that it fell to the ground next to the wine bottle.

“Say my name again…” I whispered as my fingers moved to push at his jerkin, which he shed at my wish.

He smirked, his arms gathering me up and against him so that he embraced me tightly.

“Hermione…” he whispered in return, the combination of his voice and the crackling of the bonfire sounding like a chord of music upon the air.

I shivered as our lips met again, and his weight pressed against the cradle of my hips. Our lips moved leisurely, our tongues twisting lazily as we began to memorize the taste and shape of each other’s mouths.

Everything, even the flames seemed to slow down in time. Only my thoughts and consciousness seemed to move in real time, and all I could think of was Malfoy.

I had wanted him, wanted to be near him for weeks. Again, I was not sure when I began to feel as though I needed him. I was not sure when respect had turned to admiration and admiration into need…need into want…want into something that I wondered was love… I wanted to swallow him whole, hold him forever, take him deep inside, and never let him go. I wanted him to be mine.

We shifted as he kissed my neck, his hands moving to push my dress further up my body, but paused at my ribs. I held to Malfoy’s neck as he lifted himself to peer down into my eyes. This face was as expressive as I could ever remember, but there was hesitation about his mouth, and what I considered to be disbelief in his brow.

I licked my swollen lips, fingers playing through the silk of his hair to his shaven cheek, to his pointed chin. My other hand swept over the rippling muscles of his back, and I wanted to smile…but his expression did not change.

“What is it?” I asked, my voice deepened by my desire.

Malfoy groaned softly as my finger ran down his chest so that a fingernail flicked over the left nipple near the base of the magically coloured rune.

“You…” he whispered, “Are you…?”

I frowned. I knew what he wanted to ask…was I sure about continuing? Was I comfortable with exposing my body to him? Would I be afraid of his attentions after my best friend had abused me so abominably? I knew what he wanted to ask for I had asked myself those questions the day that he rejected my advances.

My answer was to lift my knees, my feet planted on either side of Malfoy’s, I pushed my body upward, my dress slipping so when I gently lowered myself again my bare bottom was upon the stone. I kicked off my slippers; the bare soles of my feel touched the stone, not feeling the coolness of the night or the ancient white rock.

Malfoy could only blink at me as I lifted my upper body to sit before him, he falling back on his haunches. I grasped my dress and pulled it over my head, the pendant fell between my breasts, firelight catching the polished surface. I dropped the dress behind me and stared into Malfoy’s face.

“What do the runes say?” I asked softly.

Malfoy pursed his lips, his eye moving from the pendant to my breasts, down to my navel and the soft roundness of my belly…further down to my parted thighs and the dark curls hiding my sex. In dark green, the tiny runes ran in lines up my body, converging to the larger rune over my heart at the top of my left breast.

He swallowed as his right hand moved so the tips of his finger brushed the rune over my heart.

“My name…” he answered.

I nodded. “That is your answer, Draco…”

His eye flashed at the sound of his name on my lips, and just as Lucius had said, the effect of my saying Malfoy’s name was surprising. Malfoy…Draco…smiled, a smile that beamed of a brand of satisfaction, and happiness I had never seen from him before. I had recognized his name, speaking it with such a care that his hand shook as he finished tracing the rune.

I sat before him, leaning back on my palms, the tiny braids of my hair swaying against my back. I could not present myself in a manner any more open than I was at that moment. Malfoy’s mouth quirked into a lop-sided smile as he noticed my eyes taking in the pale hair running down his chest, over bone and muscle. His thick upper arms, wide shoulders, even the shadow of the Dark Mark on the inside of his left arm, it was all attractive to me, for it only was the shell of what I was growing to love more and more on the inside. Draco…

“Then I shouldn’t waste any more time…” he mumbled, a hand undoing the front of his black trousers, but the other reaching out for me.

He pressed himself against me as we fell into a deeper, more desperate kiss. The slowness of moments before was replaced with an obsessive need to press as much skin and warmth into me as a possible. My breasts were squeezed against his chest, his heart frantically pounding against my once ruined nipple.

Moving against me, I could feel Draco slip from his boots, and wriggle out of his trousers so we were finally skin to skin.

I could feel his hard length against my bare hip, pulsing with every brutal beat of his heart. The feeling of sticky dampness dripping from the tip of that stiff flesh to my belly made my heart, in turn, beat faster. I was aroused, and I wondered if I had ever felt so hot, so wet, or so ready in my life.

My sex life had been nonexistent for five years, and before that, it had only been with Ron a few times. I had slept with a blind date my parents had set up in Australia while I had visited for a summer. It had been a Muggle doctor friend…and it had been only to scratch an itch and nothing more… I couldn’t recall the man’s name.

But I pushed those thoughts out of my mind, for I knew the man who held me, who kissed me, whose cock was twitching as I thrust my hips against him. This was a man who had saved my life, protected me, kept my mind and soul from falling into a pit of all-consuming depression, amused me, made me coffee, and had kissed me before in a manner that had led me to care for him a great deal. He was my Edward Fairfax Rochester, coarse and taciturn, hot blooded and gentle. My proud Fitzwilliam Darcy. Most importantly, and most honestly he was my…

“Draco…” I whispered as he pressed kisses into my shoulders, moving to kiss the tops of my breasts, his embrace moving lower down my ribs.

He growled as my fingers wove into his hair, my hips bucking against his as his tongue traced around my left nipple. I knew he was being very careful with me, taking his seduction at a slower pace than he would have liked…but I loved him for the care he took, and the concern over my reaction to the situation we had placed ourselves into…

I groaned as his mouth enveloped my nipple, his other hand moving to palm my right breast in his large hand. My breathing was strained with overwhelming delight. Draco’s mouth suckled at my breast, and every swipe of his tongue sent a shot of sweet joy through my body causing my skin to moisten with sweat, my eyes to dilate, my toes to curl, and my core hum and ache with need.

His tongue moved to lave my scarred nipple, the tip tracing along the thin reminder of the violence that had allowed Draco to save me… He glanced up to my face, his left eye soft with emotion. I was not afraid, and I was not going to let past events dictate the course of my future life! I wanted the man whose hands moved to grasp my shifting hips to keep them still. I wanted him to touch me, to banish all other memories of the wrongs committed upon my body.

Draco’s lips kissed my breasts one last time before he moved to my lips again, sliding his body against mine so that the dampness of my centre could no longer be contained, and I felt it trickle down my thighs and buttocks. I was in a frenzy to touch him, my hands moving down the rippled muscle of his back and sides…to grasp the globes of his buttocks, pressing his hips harder against mine. He grunted as I lifted my knees higher, the sticky, hot wetness of my core pressing against the underside of his cock, the organ pulsing against my clit.

I groaned as Draco’s mouth left mine, his cock sliding against my core, lubricated by warm juices. He lifted his upper body from mine, gazing down at me as he knelt between my thighs. A silent question was posed by the knitting of his brow and the quick thrust of his hips against mine. I rose up to answer him, curling my left arm about his neck. He grasped my hip and nodded, silver hair falling in wild tangles around his handsome face, his eye moving to the point where he and I were pressed the tightest together.

Grasping my hips, he lifted so that he could pull back his hips from mine. In the firelight, I could see his organ for the first time, and the pale, course curls above. I did not have a suitable basis for comparison, but Draco’s cock intimidated me…more thickly veined than long, but long enough, with a slight arc upward. This view of Draco’s sex lasted only a few seconds as the tip swiped along my damp slit until the head slipped into a natural indentation of my body, as if that was where his cock always had belonged.

“ I don’t want to hurt you, Hermione…” he whispered, his voice ragged.

I held tighter to him as he laid me back into the stone and his cock slipped just inside me.

“I don’t care, Draco…” I whispered, my right hand brushing a fringe of silver hair from his eye.

He did not answer, but bowed his head so it rested against my collarbone. And I gasped as he pushed inside…just the head. He was panting, his voice whispering too low for me to hear.

Pushing in again, I winced as my body was stretched, stretched as it had never been before. It was not painful per se, but slightly uncomfortable and odd. When the tip of his cock budged against my womb, I whimpered, not out of pain, but a sensation that I could not identify.

Draco lifted his face to me again, searching, thrusting very shallowly in and out of my body. I bit my lip as his hips rocked a bit wider, in a slow motion. My body was full, and I was not in pain, and when Draco’s movements came to be half strokes in and out of my pussy, I twisted my hips to assist him, eliciting the most beautiful whimper from his throat.

The fire flickered over our skin as we moved, my legs wrapping about his waist, changing the angle of his pursuit…and I came. He had buried his face in my neck, panting and groaning into my skin…only pulling away to kiss my face as my centre contracted around him, or to pull my hand from clutching his ass to place fingertips over my clit.

I came again and again, each time he gritted his teeth, and whispered something that my lust fogged mind could not decipher. We were sweating; our voices raw with moans, whimpers, and half formed expletives when our passions overwhelmed our senses. When Draco’s hands moved to grasp the edge of the bench to seek leverage, his thrusts were harder, deeper, but I loved the strength in which he filled me, the movement of his muscles under his back, his buttocks, his arms and chest, arousing me. The brushing of his pubic hair against my clit sending me into raptures with every thrust…

He was losing control, losing the battle to make our lovemaking last forever. His hips thrust wildly, and I came once again when his cock jutted at a new angle inside me, causing my back to arch involuntarily and the last of my body’s moisture coat the inside of my thighs and his sac, which had been slapping against my other opening like a wrapping hand upon a door. I screamed my release in a voice that did not seem like my own.

Through my orgasm-skewed eyes, I watched Draco in the firelight, his body shimmering silver and gold… He whimpered as he thrust once and froze. My swollen pussy could feel a slight hum. He thrust again, gasping, and froze; the hum in my belly had become warmth. I raised a weary hand to cup his cheek, his eye squeezed shut as he thrust rapidly into my body, causing my voice to ring out, when suddenly his thrusts weakened and I felt his cock seem to swell and release so that I lost myself in my overwhelmed senses, my eyes sealing shut. My skin itched, and at every point where the runes had traced my skin, I could feel magic, like pinpricks, sinking into my flesh and disappearing.

Draco’s head rested upon my breast, and through his dried, kiss swollen lips, I heard him whisper a Contraceptive Charm, his fingertips brushing over my lower belly. I sighed, as felt a tickle of magic there…wrapping an arm about his shoulders and letting my mind slip into a happy daze. My eyes could just see the stars high above us, the stars and stones having been the only witnesses to our mating.

The bonfire had nearly died, and even with Draco’s body pressed to mine, the magic of the Beltane rite was over as he pulled his spent cock from my clutching body. He sat up, pressing a kiss at the corner my mouth and moved to dress himself, his trousers and jerkin, then boots and finally cloak. I moved as if in a dream, reapplying my dress and trying to find my slippers…but Draco moved before I, and knelt between the bench and dwindling fire to place the shoes upon my feet, helping me to stand to slip the girdle back around my waist.

He drew Severus’ wand from his cloak and Vanished the goblet and wine…and wrapping his left arm about my waist so that I was tucked inside the warmth of his cloak, we walked a circle about the bonfire, and exited the innermost ring by the eastern horn. As we did so, the bonfire died completely, leaving only the scent of rowan and hawthorn smoke.

We did not speak as we began to walk from Horned Hill, the starlight so incredibly bright that I could not believe that there was such a beautiful silver light… I was weary as we walked, and soon I was scooped up into his arms, my cheek pressed to his left shoulder, my body enveloped in his warmth. His hair was the same colour as starlight…as was his eye…his skin, and in my sleepiness, I wondered if he had somehow been born from the stars high above. This silly thought was one of many as I slipped further and further into a beautiful dream of the downlands, the white forest, the Horned Hill, the stars and stones…and Draco Malfoy whom had toasted me as ‘his’ Lady.




I awoke with sunlight warming my bare feet as they stuck out from the blanket where I lay in the bed I had come to know as my own while I lived in Draco Malfoy’s quarters. The French doors to the balcony were opened, and a warm breeze smelling of horses, grass, and the forest wafted over my exposed feet, rousing me slightly.

My face had been pressed into Draco’s shoulder as he lay on his back at my right, his face turned away, and the majority of the blankets pulled over to his side of the bed. The air was so warm that I did not mind that he had filched the blankets as we slept, but I pressed myself tighter against him, my nose burying in his pale locks, smelling wood smoke and ancient stone in the platinum strands.

My left hand, which had been resting on his ribs, moved downward to his hip, causing him to hum in his sleep and shift slightly. I paid his movement no mind, and closed my eyes again. My left leg thrown over his left leg, my upper thigh brushing against his erection…my head pillowed upon his left arm, which was curled about my shoulders… I fell asleep again, feeling strangely happy that I had started to think of him as Draco…

When I awoke again, I found myself alone in bed, the sunlight falling against my bare thighs, the day having progressed. It was the day of May 1. I rose slowly, wrapping the thin blanket about me, padding from the bedroom into the kitchen where I found a note on the counter. A pot of coffee had recently been made and I felt more aware at the scent. I was alone in the groom’s quarters, the windows open so that a warm breeze blew in from the forests behind the stables, the air laden with the smell of trees.

‘H-

C. Weasley and I have left for Godric’s Hollow. Take today to begin preparing for the 10th, compose your notes, your thoughts, etc. Father will be by later to give a package and a better explanation. Can’t put everything in this note, I’m sorry. Plan to be back tomorrow.

-D.’

I placed the parchment back on the countertop, gnawing on my lower lip.

Godric’s Hollow. Memories of Harry and I going to the place where his family had lived, Bathilda Bagshot’s house, Grindlewald, and so many other images flashed through my mind. It was unlikely that Harry would return to the Hollow, but surely there was some sort of lead to take Draco and Charlie there…

I sighed; the disc shifted on the pendant, but remained cold. I moved through the apartment, and was soon bathed and dressed. I was leaning against the counter, sipping the coffee Draco had made, my body still buzzing from the night before. However, no matter how much I thought about how my body felt so warm, my thoughts would revolve back to Harry.

“Do you think we will really have to go back?” I asked aloud.

You will do what you must, Miss Granger. If it means moving through time, challenging the will of the Fates, you must go…Severus said inside my mind, his voice soothing to my fears.

The Fates…it was a term for the abstract concept of how the universe functioned. Some people called it God, or Allah, or some other name for a supernatural, omniscient being, but I called it the Fates…the set progression of time and space. The universe was a mysterious place, and humanity had only begun to understand the immediate mechanics of the colossal machine…

I crossed my ankles as I rested back against the stainless steel countertop, having decided to wear a pair of worn denims with the knees literally worn out. Over the jeans, I wore a black tank top, leaving my arms bare to feel the softness of the May day blowing in through the windows.

In such a peaceful place, with such wondrously warm light, it was hard for me to believe that I would perhaps have to bend the rules of the universe as soon as the disc resting between my breasts would warm up…

I sipped my coffee, turning around to look at the parchment I had left on the counter behind me. Draco’s handwriting was foreign to me, but the way the words were angled to the left and the violent strokes of the quill on the parchment made me imagine his long fingers moving…the scratch of the nib cutting into the fibres of the parchment.

I realized that I was missing him again.

“Is this love?” I asked.

That is a question I cannot answer. It is different for everyone, Miss Granger…Severus whispered, and fell silent again. I smiled into my coffee, finishing the cup and setting it next to Draco’s note.

The sounds of hooves in the yard made me lift my head. Lucius had come.

The Lord of the Manor entered much as Narcissa had the day before, his eyes scanning the parlour. He had a box under his arm, and placed it on the writing desk before moving to the armchair by the low ember fire. I joined him, sitting on the couch, after offering a cup of coffee, which Lucius refused, curling his lip in distaste.

“Draco developed a taste when he lived in America…the same with the Muggle music and books. I applaud his varied tastes, but there are few new interests he brought back from the Colonies that I found palpable.”

I could only smile wanly, and then asked for the explanation Draco had written about in his note.

Lucius smirked. “Most likely another wild chase, Miss Granger, and perhaps the last lead before the tenth.”

“The Aurors have not searched Godric’s Hollow?”

“They have, back in February when Potter escaped,” Lucius drawled, crossing his riding boot over his left knee. “The so-called terrorists being detained are being treated as ‘enemy combatants’ by the Ministry, and much of the information being obtained is through liberal uses of Veritaserum. Madame Hopkirk is sparing no expense to stop Potter now…now that he has terrorized Britain by his own actions and the actions of those like W.A.T.C.H.”

“What will happen to those people?” I asked, my mind shifting to the possibility of human rights violations…which seemed prevalent in the Magical as well as the Muggle world.

“Many will be tried and sent to Azkaban, others will be released and watched, some will be given to the Dementors…it will be a process that will last years…all because Harry Potter decided to turn the world upside down,” Lucius spat.

I could not find Lucius’ disgust surprising, part of me felt the same way. However, it had not just been Harry that brought protest organizations over the boundary to ‘terrorism.’ My only real fear about the terrorists was the Ministry reaction…the violation of human rights, and the possible loss of civil liberties for every witch and wizard as a result of ‘terrorism.’ No matter if Harry managed to go back and change the timeline, both worlds, his ideal world, and the world in which I sat in that very moment, were both dark, both troubled… The difference with my world was the fact that I, and people like me, still existed to work to turn the dark into light.

“’Cissa and I have put together a package for you, Miss Granger,” Lucius said softly, having purged his anxiety and disgust, to incline his head to the box on the writing desk. “’Cissa had Leak salvage what he could from her stores in the Manor. There are phials of Polyjuice potion for you and Draco…same donors as last time. There are some Blood Replenishing Draughts, Veritaserum, pain reducing potions, and other necessaries.”

I nodded. Potions that was standard for Aurors to carry in shrunken kits on their belts.

“There is also a set of dragon hide clothing for you, a set ‘Cissa has had for many years. She is sure it would fit you…”

I blinked at Lucius.

“You should wear them any time you leave the boundaries of our lands, Miss Granger. They will deflect lesser offensive spells, giving you a better chance at defending yourself.”

I nodded, my eyes moving to my wand holster resting on the kitchen counter. I had not slipped it on yet that day. Lucius followed my eyes and I quickly diverted my gaze.

“I have noticed that you carry Bella’s wand. I meant to ask you before, but I kept forgetting.”

“Has Narcissa noticed?” I asked softly.

Lucius chuckled. “She does not miss much, so yes, she has. Do not look so concerned, Miss Granger. The fact that you carry mad Bella’s wand does not concern us, but it is interesting to us nonetheless. Both you and my son carry two wands that were never yours originally. It is strange to have two wands, to start, but two wands who had other masters is even more unusual.”

I said nothing for a moment, locking eyes with Lucius.

“The Dark Lord had my wand for a long time, and it was destroyed. He gave up his wand, and I secreted it away for years before Draco found it. When he touched it, the wand seemed to weep…”

I frowned. “Literally?”

Lucius nodded. “I kept it in a chest in my study, trying my best to forget about it. Draco found it when he returned from America to testify before the Wizengamot. The wand wept a phoenix song, and reacted to Draco as if it had always been his to use. He already carried Severus’ wand, as it had been willed to him, but he only uses it for specific spells, using the Dark Lord’s wand for everything else.”

The oak wand had been willed to Draco? Why? Severus did not answer.

“Using both wands has served him well…just as Bella’s wand has seemed to serve you, Miss Granger.

We also know about the Elder Wand, and I, for one, leave you to it. I know many men have desired its power, but I would wish the cursed bit of wood and core on no one.”

I knew exactly how Lucius felt. The Elder Wand was tainted with blood, and had been for generations. I did not want anyone to know that I had the wand, lest I be targeted.

Lucius’ fingers ran to his boot and with a wince, he produced a stiletto from the leg, and flipping it in his hand, moved to pass the handle of the blade to me.

“Take this as well, Miss Granger,” he said softly as my fingers moved to wrap about the handle of the blade, my hand fitting about the green inlaid stone as if the handle had been made for my grip.

Sliding it from Lucius’ outstretched hand, I found the blade light in weight, the foot long silver, doubled-edged blade was visibly sharp, the tip delicately dangerous. I twisted the stiletto in my hand, the green stone of the handle cool against the fleshy parts of my fingers, the cross below the handle carved into the shape of dragon’s heads on the ends. It was a wicked weapon, and I glanced to Lucius, questioning in my eyes.

“Sometimes magic can fail us, Miss Granger, although it runs through our blood. That is a weapon to be used just in case magic should fail you…” Lucius intoned softly. “Wear it in a concealed place…your inner arm, or boot. If you should be captured and bound, put it in a place you could reach, although it is technically a stiletto, it is enchanted and can cut through any material you might be bound with,” he instructed, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair, placing his chin upon his hands.

I nodded, rising to move to the kitchen counter. Drawing the Elder Wand from the holster, I Transfigured my coffee cup into a sheath that I could strap to my arm or leg. I left the dagger on the counter, but applied my wand holster to my barred arm, sliding the Elder Wand next to the walnut wand.

“If you should have to go back, Miss Granger,” Lucius spoke from the chair, and I turned moving to stand behind the couch so that I could study his face. “If you must go back thirteen years, you know the rules about contacting your past self or anyone whose fate might directly impact your own…”

“Yes?”

“Do not contact me, and if Draco is with you, do not allow him to reveal himself to me.”

I bit my lower lip.

“The Lucius Malfoy that existed thirteen years ago is not who I am today. Of course, I am sure you find this to be obvious. However, the night that my Mark burned, the night the Dark Lord was reborn, I had already begun to make plans to break away. The signs leading up to his rebirth were clear. I wanted out…most of us did after so long.

I do not want anything to alter the events after that night in the cemetery. I must go to Azkaban the following year…I must suffer to change. Do you understand, Miss Granger? I must try to kill you in the Department of Mysteries, I must fail to obtain the Prophecy!” Lucius hissed, his face contorting into one I remembered from years ago, a face that frightened me when I was a girl.

I was not frightened of Lucius Malfoy now.

“I understand…Lucius…” I whispered, the sound of his name strange on my tongue, but not entirely alien.

Lucius smirked.

“The only person…the only one I could think of to use if you absolutely must contact someone in the past…is Severus.”

My breath caught. I had not given myself the time to think so far ahead as Lucius apparently had, but Lucius was right to mention Severus for many reasons.

“Severus was the paradigm of discretion, and I doubt that he would be shocked to meet a much older Hermione Granger in 1995. He could hide truths from both his masters, and he did so until the very end…”

I felt a shift in my mind, as if Severus had moved somewhere into a different room of my mental palace, but he said nothing.

“But I hope that the situation will not require you to be seen by anyone in the past.”

I agreed. “I hope that I will not have to go…but it seems like it will be so.”

Lucius nodded, rising from the armchair.

“But Potter will not hesitate to change everything by simply killing the Dark Lord before the old bastard was supposed to die. He will not hesitate to kill anyone who gets in his way of his goal either. You know this better than I, Miss Granger. You also know that there is nothing left of the boy you loved and knew. The taint of madness sullies even Potter’s memory as a charismatic boy weighed down with a heavy burden we all placed upon him.

Voldemort’s,” Lucius paused, shivering at saying the name, “influence is strong on Potter even after death. Voldemort’s arrogance was his ultimate undoing, just as it will be with Potter.”

I bowed my head. I could not disagree with Lucius. Already Harry had lost the Elder Wand and his treasured Invisibility Cloak. He had to recruit outside help to steal a Time-Turner, which cost the lives of several men and women.

Lucius spoke kind words of parting, asking that I visit the bothy soon. I promised I would try, but Draco’s instruction that I prepare for another confrontation on the tenth consumed my thoughts. I walked down to the stable’s yards as Lucius mounted his Arabian.

“Miss Granger, I am glad that you were present for our small Beltane celebration,” Lucius said with an air of regality that I found far too insinuating. It was obvious by the playful smile on his lips that he knew, to some extent, what had happened after his retiring Horned Hill with his wife. I blushed slightly…I did not need a man old enough to be my father to tease me about my feelings for his son. “I know that ‘Cissa has grown exceptionally fond of you, more so now that she knows what your rune represented…”

“Do you realize how mortified I was…?” I muttered, my eyes falling to the yard.

Lucius chuckled. “The first Beltane after Narcissa and I were married, her runes represented my name. Mind, ‘Cissa and I were married at the arrangement of our parents, and it was at least a year after our marriage that we were even intimate. However, by Beltane, her feelings changed.

I had loved her since the first moment I saw her…” Lucius chuckled, reigning his horse so that its hooves clopped against the ground.

My chest squeezed at Lucius’ words.

“Draco has chosen to protect you, Miss Granger, and I see that you have not taken the significance of that protection lightly… Cherish it, girl. My son is by no means perfect, and we are a very proud family…but my son’s affections are of a sort that befits women of royal blood and bearing, but you will own his heart, do not abuse it.

The rites of Beltane have given him room to hope, do not dash those hopes, Miss Granger.

Though I may object to your birth, your blood, you are a formidable witch. Your superior mind makes up for a hundred inferior births…”

Lucius’ serious face sobered my emotions, and the flash of his pale eyes conveyed a warning that I understood immediately. His lips softened into a slight smile, and suddenly he was off, his mount gliding over the ground and away.

I moved a hand to my heart and grasped the material of my tank top. I sighed as a stiff breeze blew my free hair about my face. I missed the tiny braids I had had, and bit my lip, wondering if I could attempt the beauty Charm on myself later on.

I returned to the apartments and began going through the box Lucius had brought. Just as he said, there was a kit of potion phials that could be attached to a belt, or set into a pocket of a cloak. All the phials were shatterproof, and the kit itself was made of dark green dragon hide to further protect the potions.

The clothing, black dragon hide, was a two piece outfit of loose fitting trousers and a jerkin-like top, sleeveless and obviously cut for a woman to wear. In the bottom of the box were gloves that went with the outfit, and were long enough that they would protect the arms from the wrists upward. In a shrunken box, which I enlarged, I found a pair of matching boots…my size that were long in the leg and reached at least to mid-calf.

It was armor of a sort, much like Charlie’s dragon hide outfit. And it surely cost a moderate sized fortune. I ran my fingers over the scaly, black surface and sighed as I replaced it inside the box, sliding the lid down again.

I drummed my fingers on the top of the box, staring at the horn attached to the gramophone. Less than ten days…it did not seem like time enough to prepare for anything let alone a possible battle at Hogwarts again. I had already mentally prepared myself for an onslaught upon the grounds, no matter how many security measures had been taken. I had so many scenarios in my mind that I knew I was beginning to obsess over probabilities, contingencies, and strategies that I was beginning to think of nothing else.

I moved from the writing desk to kneel in the floor before the stack of records below the gramophone, trying to find something that would bring my thoughts around to something else…to give my mind a break.

Glenn Gould’s 1955 version of Bach’s ‘Goldberg Variations.’

I found another cup and poured more coffee, taking it, and the stiletto with me as I sat down on the bench before the front windows, leaning back as Draco had into the wall. I sat my steaming coffee on the sill and pulled the blade from the Transfigured sheath, staring at the edge in the sunlight. An enchanted blade…one owned by Lucius Malfoy was surely priceless. I dared not touch the edge, but studied the carved dragonheads in the crossing.

The sprouting of a thought came to me, but quickly died. Severus had nothing to say.

I slipped the blade back into the sheath and set it next to my cup. I stared out of the window and listened to Gould’s lovely interpretation of Bach, and let my mind float to some serene place as my eyes chased the clouds in the gorgeous May Day sky.