That Swedish Thing
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Draco/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
7
Views:
5,204
Reviews:
22
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Draco/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
7
Views:
5,204
Reviews:
22
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Abduction
That Swedish Thing
The day was chilly.
She remembered that now.
It had been a lingering summer and winter was trying to make up for lost time, becoming very cold, very soon. The wind was blowing the way it does when a brewing storm is on the horizon and Hermione was just trying to make it inside before she got soaked.
The landing was eerily quiet as she passed, the only sounds escaping through the open doorway were the echoes of the wind as it gathered strength. She paused for a short moment to find an empty mailbox before beginning the climb to her third floor walk-up.
Lightning struck outside and illuminated the corridor from the window, throwing shadows across the walls and floor and making a dark figure in the corner stand out. The figure, quite obviously a man given his height and stance, had apparently been waiting for her and was not expecting the storm to give him away as he charged towards her as soon as he was spotted.
Hermione didn’t even have time to scream or pull her wand from its hiding spot in her coat pocket as she was grabbed round the waist and silenced with a gloved hand. Her captor murmured something under his breath which she couldn’t make out and then she felt the familiar jerk from her navel indicating he’d just activated a Portkey. Not knowing what else to do, she held on tightly as the room began to blur and hoped the nausea accompanied with Portkey travel wouldn’t get the best of her.
When the world stopped spinning, Hermione pulled out of her captor’s grasp only to find herself being let go. The miscalculation coupled with her momentum sent her tumbling to the floor of their new destination.
It appeared to be an abandoned house of some sort, having dust and cobwebs caked over every visible surface. Shadows infused the room from where the large windows were covered with thick, black curtains pulled tight until only the slightest cracks of light peeked through. White sheets blanketed the sparse furniture decorating the space and the floor was littered with trash accumulated over the years.
The strange man let a low chuckle escape at her clumsiness and Hermione thought she heard something familiar within the sound, but it left her mind as she reached for her wand intending to show this person how she felt about being taken captive only to encounter an empty pocket.
“Not as quick on the uptake anymore, are you, Granger?”
Hermione paused, the voice passing over her like a river through reeds, bringing her back to a time when things were simpler. Though it had been years since she’d last seen him, four to be exact, his was a voice she would remember forever.
“Malfoy?” she asked in reply, breaking the silence between them since his demeaning comment as she rose to her feet.
“At your service,” he remarked mockingly, his voice scratchy from disuse, as he lowered the hood obscuring his face and Hermione took the time to study him.
The years spent on the run had not been sympathetic to him. His blond hair, once immaculately kept, hung around his face in ragged layers, longer than she remembered it being. His face had hardened around the edges until his expression seemed to be tinged with a constant grimness, and his eyes, the gray Malfoys were known for, reflected nothing but emptiness, as if his soul had left him completely.
He had grown taller though, and more filled out, if the broadness of his shoulders was any indication. He was no longer the lanky sixteen-year-old she remembered, but then, neither was she.
“I suggest you let me go if you know what’s good for you. I think you’ll find I’m not very pleasant upon being kidnapped,” she stated, trying not to let the deadness in his eyes unsettle her.
Malfoy’s lips smirked the tiniest bit. “I’m afraid not, Granger. You see, I have your wand,” he held up the sliver of wood in demonstration of his words, “and you’re not very threatening without it.”
Hermione watched wide-eyed in fear as he dangled the wand aimlessly in-between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. Then, without warning, his other hand shot up, and the piece of wood was in two halves.
“No!” she screamed with her hands reached out as if she could stop him by sheer force of will, but the damage was already done.
“I don’t think we’ll be needing this anymore,” he commented indifferently as he tossed the remains of the wand off to the side, not paying any attention to where they fell.
Hermione could only watch through distorted vision with her eyes filling with tears as the very thing that personified her as a witch was casually thrown aside.
“I think you’ll be more willing to listen now.”
“Whatever it is, I won’t do it,” her voice strongly replied in contrast to the tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I’ve placed a binding charm on you,” he calmly explained, “so if you try to run, you won’t get very far. This house is not only unplottable, but cannot be reached or left without the use of apparation or a Portkey, which you now cannot do.”
“Why are you doing this?” she screamed at him, her face flushed with anger as she repressed the urge to scratch out his eyes.
Suddenly, a change came over him, and his face turned solemn. “I need your help.”
Hermione, at first, didn’t think she’d heard right, but when his statement penetrated her disbelief, a hysterical giggle blossomed from the back of her throat until the laughter completely overtook her. Malfoy stood and watched her mirth in astonishment, deciding the best idea would be to wait until she was finished.
“Of course you need my help! And what a way to ask! By kidnapping me and breaking my wand and forcing me to help you!” she got out between gasping breaths.
Malfoy, supremely irritated after this assessment of his methods, turned on his heel and crossed the room to the open doorway. “If you ever want to leave, you’ll help,” he called over his shoulder, the door banging closed behind him accompanied with a resounding click of the lock, shattering her view of the situation.
Hermione felt her heart drop to her feet. There was no way out, she had no food or water or any way to use the bathroom, and with no wand, no alternate escape route. Deciding, for once, to swallow her pride before it got the best of her, she ran across the room to the door before Malfoy got too far out of range and beat on the heavy wood.
“I’ll help, okay? Whatever you want, I’ll do my best,” she shouted through the barrier.
Her reply was the door unlocking beneath her hands and she took a step back before it swung open. Malfoy slouched against the frame, a triumphant look on his face which made her scowl and cross her arms over her chest.
“I knew you’d see it my way.”
Hermione refused to be goaded into an argument and instead got straight to the matter at hand. “What is it you need my help with?”
Malfoy indicated she should follow him into the next room and Hermione was surprised to find it the opposite of the one they had arrived in. It was clean, neat, and decorated with modest furniture. Lit candles on the mantel and a fire burning brightly in the fireplace gave the whole room a warm glow, which combated the winter chill spilling in from outside.
The blond took a seat in one of the armchairs next to the fire and directed her to the other before he began to speak.
“I know you’re aware of the part I played in the late headmaster’s death,” he started with Hermione nodding. “I’ll regret that for the rest of my life, but it’s the only crime I’ve ever committed.”
The former Head Girl couldn’t contain her shock. “But what about -?”
“Yes, I know,” Malfoy grimly shook his head as he cut her off. “The murders of the Macmillans and the Carmichaels, and the torture of the Creeveys. All accredited to me, but I was not the one who did them. In fact, the one thing I’ve done, as far as the war is concerned, I’ve been acquitted of, but everything else is being blamed on me. I need your help in clearing my name so I can stop running.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “And then you’ll let me go?”
Malfoy tilted his head to the side, appearing to be offended by the veracity of his word being called into question. “Of course.”
Aware that her options were limited, Hermione figured she could do her best in trying to help him, but didn’t know how truthful his claims of innocence were. However, when he offered his hand, she took it, all the while feeling like she was selling her soul to the devil.
tbc...
The day was chilly.
She remembered that now.
It had been a lingering summer and winter was trying to make up for lost time, becoming very cold, very soon. The wind was blowing the way it does when a brewing storm is on the horizon and Hermione was just trying to make it inside before she got soaked.
The landing was eerily quiet as she passed, the only sounds escaping through the open doorway were the echoes of the wind as it gathered strength. She paused for a short moment to find an empty mailbox before beginning the climb to her third floor walk-up.
Lightning struck outside and illuminated the corridor from the window, throwing shadows across the walls and floor and making a dark figure in the corner stand out. The figure, quite obviously a man given his height and stance, had apparently been waiting for her and was not expecting the storm to give him away as he charged towards her as soon as he was spotted.
Hermione didn’t even have time to scream or pull her wand from its hiding spot in her coat pocket as she was grabbed round the waist and silenced with a gloved hand. Her captor murmured something under his breath which she couldn’t make out and then she felt the familiar jerk from her navel indicating he’d just activated a Portkey. Not knowing what else to do, she held on tightly as the room began to blur and hoped the nausea accompanied with Portkey travel wouldn’t get the best of her.
When the world stopped spinning, Hermione pulled out of her captor’s grasp only to find herself being let go. The miscalculation coupled with her momentum sent her tumbling to the floor of their new destination.
It appeared to be an abandoned house of some sort, having dust and cobwebs caked over every visible surface. Shadows infused the room from where the large windows were covered with thick, black curtains pulled tight until only the slightest cracks of light peeked through. White sheets blanketed the sparse furniture decorating the space and the floor was littered with trash accumulated over the years.
The strange man let a low chuckle escape at her clumsiness and Hermione thought she heard something familiar within the sound, but it left her mind as she reached for her wand intending to show this person how she felt about being taken captive only to encounter an empty pocket.
“Not as quick on the uptake anymore, are you, Granger?”
Hermione paused, the voice passing over her like a river through reeds, bringing her back to a time when things were simpler. Though it had been years since she’d last seen him, four to be exact, his was a voice she would remember forever.
“Malfoy?” she asked in reply, breaking the silence between them since his demeaning comment as she rose to her feet.
“At your service,” he remarked mockingly, his voice scratchy from disuse, as he lowered the hood obscuring his face and Hermione took the time to study him.
The years spent on the run had not been sympathetic to him. His blond hair, once immaculately kept, hung around his face in ragged layers, longer than she remembered it being. His face had hardened around the edges until his expression seemed to be tinged with a constant grimness, and his eyes, the gray Malfoys were known for, reflected nothing but emptiness, as if his soul had left him completely.
He had grown taller though, and more filled out, if the broadness of his shoulders was any indication. He was no longer the lanky sixteen-year-old she remembered, but then, neither was she.
“I suggest you let me go if you know what’s good for you. I think you’ll find I’m not very pleasant upon being kidnapped,” she stated, trying not to let the deadness in his eyes unsettle her.
Malfoy’s lips smirked the tiniest bit. “I’m afraid not, Granger. You see, I have your wand,” he held up the sliver of wood in demonstration of his words, “and you’re not very threatening without it.”
Hermione watched wide-eyed in fear as he dangled the wand aimlessly in-between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. Then, without warning, his other hand shot up, and the piece of wood was in two halves.
“No!” she screamed with her hands reached out as if she could stop him by sheer force of will, but the damage was already done.
“I don’t think we’ll be needing this anymore,” he commented indifferently as he tossed the remains of the wand off to the side, not paying any attention to where they fell.
Hermione could only watch through distorted vision with her eyes filling with tears as the very thing that personified her as a witch was casually thrown aside.
“I think you’ll be more willing to listen now.”
“Whatever it is, I won’t do it,” her voice strongly replied in contrast to the tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I’ve placed a binding charm on you,” he calmly explained, “so if you try to run, you won’t get very far. This house is not only unplottable, but cannot be reached or left without the use of apparation or a Portkey, which you now cannot do.”
“Why are you doing this?” she screamed at him, her face flushed with anger as she repressed the urge to scratch out his eyes.
Suddenly, a change came over him, and his face turned solemn. “I need your help.”
Hermione, at first, didn’t think she’d heard right, but when his statement penetrated her disbelief, a hysterical giggle blossomed from the back of her throat until the laughter completely overtook her. Malfoy stood and watched her mirth in astonishment, deciding the best idea would be to wait until she was finished.
“Of course you need my help! And what a way to ask! By kidnapping me and breaking my wand and forcing me to help you!” she got out between gasping breaths.
Malfoy, supremely irritated after this assessment of his methods, turned on his heel and crossed the room to the open doorway. “If you ever want to leave, you’ll help,” he called over his shoulder, the door banging closed behind him accompanied with a resounding click of the lock, shattering her view of the situation.
Hermione felt her heart drop to her feet. There was no way out, she had no food or water or any way to use the bathroom, and with no wand, no alternate escape route. Deciding, for once, to swallow her pride before it got the best of her, she ran across the room to the door before Malfoy got too far out of range and beat on the heavy wood.
“I’ll help, okay? Whatever you want, I’ll do my best,” she shouted through the barrier.
Her reply was the door unlocking beneath her hands and she took a step back before it swung open. Malfoy slouched against the frame, a triumphant look on his face which made her scowl and cross her arms over her chest.
“I knew you’d see it my way.”
Hermione refused to be goaded into an argument and instead got straight to the matter at hand. “What is it you need my help with?”
Malfoy indicated she should follow him into the next room and Hermione was surprised to find it the opposite of the one they had arrived in. It was clean, neat, and decorated with modest furniture. Lit candles on the mantel and a fire burning brightly in the fireplace gave the whole room a warm glow, which combated the winter chill spilling in from outside.
The blond took a seat in one of the armchairs next to the fire and directed her to the other before he began to speak.
“I know you’re aware of the part I played in the late headmaster’s death,” he started with Hermione nodding. “I’ll regret that for the rest of my life, but it’s the only crime I’ve ever committed.”
The former Head Girl couldn’t contain her shock. “But what about -?”
“Yes, I know,” Malfoy grimly shook his head as he cut her off. “The murders of the Macmillans and the Carmichaels, and the torture of the Creeveys. All accredited to me, but I was not the one who did them. In fact, the one thing I’ve done, as far as the war is concerned, I’ve been acquitted of, but everything else is being blamed on me. I need your help in clearing my name so I can stop running.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “And then you’ll let me go?”
Malfoy tilted his head to the side, appearing to be offended by the veracity of his word being called into question. “Of course.”
Aware that her options were limited, Hermione figured she could do her best in trying to help him, but didn’t know how truthful his claims of innocence were. However, when he offered his hand, she took it, all the while feeling like she was selling her soul to the devil.
tbc...