Searching

Thanks to Sunnyjune46 and Lorett for doing incredible beta work.
To Sage and Sara, who always make me laugh.

Part VII

The cauldron was laying on the floor.

The coin winked at him in the moonlight, coldly reflecting his dread. Hannah had directed him to this room, hinting that he and Hermione needed time alone together. He knew now that any hope was gone now. His grip on the door portal tightened. His jaw clenched and worked. No one had to tell him what had happened here. He knew. It was over.

It was all over.

He pried his hand from the wood, stepping into the room. There wasn’t a single speck of light except the moon beams filtering through the window. This was the first time he had ever been inside of Hermione’s room. He had always imagined it in warm colors, welcoming him comfort. Instead it was draped in the black shawl of night, impossible to pierce with the naked eye. Draco stood over the cauldron, his hands tightly fisted. “Does knowing what will happen make you feel better, Hermione?”

She shifted in the shadows of the room, almost exactly in the spot he had thought she would be. Gods help the both of them, he was attuned to her, even with his sight handicapped. She didn’t answer him, but he could feel the emotion coming off of her. Anger. Hurt. Draco swallowed, squaring his shoulder. “Do you know why I couldn’t tell you? I wanted to, but it isn’t just about me, is it?” Draco said bitterly.

She was on the move. He could not see her in the dark, but he could hear her. She was creeping from her position next to the window to his right, the barest swishing of her skirt the only sound in the room. “Say something.”

Again she didn’t answer.

“Hermione. Talk to me.” Anything. Not this dead silence.

Nothing.

Anger surged. “Damn you, Hermione! Speak!”

“You. Bring. Death.”

Draco felt sick, regret rising like bile. His heart had dropped into his stomach. The words had been rasped, forced passed a swollen throat as if someone had choked the syllables from her. “I didn’t mean to,” he confessed. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to meet a nice girl, fall in love, get married, and have that family he’d dreamed about. A nice, normal relationship with a nice, normal future. Things had gone dreadfully wrong.

“How did you get the secret, Draco Malfoy?”

Malfoy. Never had he hated his name so much. “I didn’t,” he denied.

“Stop lying to me!” she suddenly screamed. “Ye’ve lied to me ever since ye arrived and I trusted you like a blind fool! Now tell me how you got the secret!”

“I don’t bloody know your secret!” he shouted back. “I haven’t found it. The only reason I’m even looking for the damned thing is because he cursed me to die if I didn’t! And believe you me,” he ground out, “I might kill Aniston Malfoy personally when I meet him.”

“What have you told him so far?” she persisted.

“Nothing! I’ve never met him! One moment I was fine where I was, and the next I am in this gods-forsaken era without a clue as how to go about myself!” Draco snarled. Wrong wrong wrong wrong! something in him shouted. The situation was spinning out of his control, and for the life of him he couldn’t think of a way to regain his balance.

She abruptly went quiet. “So it hasn’t come to pass yet.”

She was right beside him. He turned in her direction. “What hasn’t?”

It was his last conscious thought before the world went completely dark.

~*~
Hermione watched Draco collapse to the floor, the heavy candlestick in her hand. She had hit him just hard enough. He would be out for a while, awakening with only a mild headache.

She stepped completely out of the shadows, face white in the moonlight. She should kill him. After what she had seen tonight, she should silence him here and now, eliminating any chances of that horrible future coming to pass. Wasn’t it her duty as the lady of the keep? As one of the Guardian family?

Hermione gripped the dagger she had rushed for when he had knocked. She’d never killed anyone before. She was well trained, but had always assumed that her skills would only be used to protect herself or her family. Draco Malfoy was lying defenseless on her floor, not swinging a sword at her. And he hadn’t told Aniston her secret. If his protestations were to be believed, he hadn’t even found the secret at all. By all accounts, all he was guilty of was intention and lie by omission. If she killed him now, it would be murder….wouldn’t it?

Hermione bit her lip. Did she have it in her to do it? To protect her people, the castle, and the secret?

She knelt next to him, raising the dagger. Do it, Hermione. Do it. You have to.

Hermione looked into his face. Not a muscle flickered. He wouldn’t be aware of what was happening. It could be quick. One plunge and he would be dead. His tongue stilled forever. He had admitted to his purpose. All that was required of her now was to carry out the sentence.

Her hand began to shake.

Hermione’s eyes fell to the amulet he wore. The twin to the one she wore. Not for the first time the sheer gravity of the situation settled on her. Her shoulders slumped, and tears pricked her eyes. She ruthlessly forced them back. “Bastard.”

Her hand fell to her side. She couldn’t do it. God help her, she couldn’t do it.

She loved him too much.

Hermione hated herself in that moment. Even knowing what he had come here intending to do, she couldn’t hurt him. But she didn’t have to let him go free. Hermione stood; tracing his features for what she thought would be the last time. How could someone so beautiful to her, be such a threat?

Hermione had no doubt that Draco Malfoy loved her. It had been in his eyes, in his voice. It hadn’t sat any better with him than it had with her. They had both had their secrets. Those same reasons that had brought them together now separated them on opposite edges of the playing field. He wanted the treasure to save his own life. She had been charged with protecting that treasure with the last breath in her body, no matter what the cost.

Love had not been enough to deter him from his course. Love could not deter him from hers. She leaned down, grasped the pendant, and tore the necklace, severing more than one bond in that moment.

When she straightened, her eyes were cold. “I will not be made a fool of again,” she vowed.

~*~
Hannah had noted Hermione’s distress earlier. The poor girl had received a shock and needed time to adjust. Hannah had distracted the group at large, and after she had sent Stranger after Hermione, everyone had returned to merrymaking in earnest. They had been so certain everything would be fine.

Hannah, as well as everyone else, now stared at Hermione in silence. Nothing stirred in the night. The instruments had been forgotten, the celebration halted. Even the stars seemed a little duller. Hannah felt a chill in her spine that would not be ignored. Danger. A threat. More than perhaps Hermione realized. The blond man with ice in his eyes comes with death.

Hannah gasped softly, blinking rapidly. A ‘knowing'. It had been quick, but terrifying. The blond man had looked uncannily like Stranger, but older. Colder. Whereas Stranger had struck her as a man fighting circumstances beyond himself, this man had been centered by anger and hatred. There was nothing where his heart should have been but envy and covetousness. Hannah refocused on Hermione, the color leeched from her cheeks.

Expressionless, Hermione looked back. “I do not know how much Aniston Malfoy truly knows of us or our purpose. ‘Ties clear we must go forward with caution. We cannot give ourselves away, nor can we afford to back down. He wants something. We must make sure he doesn’t get it.”

Identical sets of eyes remained locked. “He comes tomorrow,“ Hermione said. “Gather what you cannot survive without tonight and return to the keep by midmorning. I fear for your safety if you tarry longer.”

And every person knew that Hermione did not admit that lightly. Tensely the people obeyed Hermione, filing out of the courtyard and into the night. In minutes Hermione and Hannah were alone.

Hermione’s sister was solemn. “You are not telling everything that you know.”

Hermione swallowed. “Strang-Draco,” she corrected herself. “Draco is from the future, as he said. He is Aniston Malfoy’s descendant, sent here to discover our secret. I saw him tell Aniston, describing it exactly, Hannah. Then…”

“What?”

“You were hurt. And the castle was dying.” Hermione closed her eyes tightly to block out the images. People reaching out to her, begging for help. Hannah crying. A blond man raising his sword, death in his eyes.

The man she loved no where to be found.

Hermione took a deep breath. “I will stop it, Hannah. Draco is in the dungeon. He and Aniston cannot reach one another there. We will be safe.”

“But how could Stranger have known?”

“How else, Hannah? I would have told him. I would have spilled my secrets and he would have offered them to Aniston.”

“But you haven’t.”

“No. So he has nothing to tell. When we meet Aniston tomorrow, he will have no proof.”

Hannah wasn’t convinced. “He had to know something to reach across six hundred years for help in the first place.”

“Perhaps it was the rumors.”

“But why Stranger? Why so far into the future?”

“I don’t know, Hannah.” Hermione rubbed her face wearily. “I just--I doona know anything anymore.”

Hannah‘s heart went out to her sister. Everything had been so wonderful and then had gone so wrong in the blink of an eye. It hurt her that Hermione had discovered what it felt like to be betrayed. “I’m so sorry, Hermione.”

Hermione stared into the night. “As am I.”

~*~~*~
Hannah was worried. Hermione had disappeared soon after they had spoken, and for once Hannah could not use their connection to find her sister. It disturbed her, sending a shiver down her spine at the possibilities of what exactly that might mean for the future. She wandered the keep for hours looking. Everyone moved with tense purpose, preparing for the dark days ahead. They had learned from early childhood what to do, making Hermione’s role as leader temporarily defunct. She could literally be anywhere.

It was the wee hours of the morning when Hannah stumbled across the seated figure of her own twin. Hermione sat on the floor of a deserted hall, barely illuminated by the torches. Hannah stopped a few feet away. “Hermione?”

Her sister’s jaw worked. “Everywhere I go reminds me of him,” she admitted haltingly.

Hannah’s shoulders slumped. “Oh, Hermione.” She waddled over, exhausted. She settled next to Hermione with a relieved sigh. Guilt flashed across her twin’s face. Hands met between them almost immediately. It was habit that had been born when they were young. They hardly noticed it until someone pointed it out. This was where they found their strength, a bond that could only be severed one way.

“What are you thinking about?” Hannah asked. At first she thought Hermione wouldn’t answer. It would have been a first, but understandable. Strange events were afoot.

When Hermione spoke, it was with earnest intent. “We have to keep control tomorrow.”

“What do you mean?”

“When Aniston comes we must already be waiting. He will not like that we anticipated his arrival. It will make him unsure about what else we know.”

“Which, of course, is nothing. I understand that the Englishman is a harsh man with many secrets. Information is not easy to glean about him. Waiting for him will shake his confidence a wee bit.”

“Perhaps, then, he will give away something else.”

Hannah nodded. “What he does not give, I will take,” she stated firmly. Hermione watched her intently, worry evident. “You don’t want me to go.”

Hermione shook her head.

“But I am coming anyway.”

Slowly, the minutest of nods. “We have to confuse him. No one knows the nature or form of the secret but they do know, if they are familiar with our line, there is but one true Guardian. Identical women will give him pause.”

“I still can’t believe someone may know about us. Our family disappeared from sight hundreds of years ago. Only you, Duncan, and I were privy to the knowledge when Father died. Duncan would not have told.”

“Only one explanation exists,” Hermione admitted reluctantly.

“A traitor,” Hannah filled in grimly. “The question is, who? And why? Our families have been here long before this castle was built.”

“There’s also the question of when anyone had the opportunity to go to England or the Lowlands to contact Aniston.” Hermione frowned. “I can think of no one.”

“Nor I. But time will tell. We must watch carefully.”

Hermione kept her eyes trained on the wall. “We’ll meet him in the field then. Open view.”

“Which of us shall speak?”

Hermione’s mouth lifted at the corners. “You always like attention more than I, anyway.”

~*~
Hermione felt hundreds of eyes staring at them from either side of the field. Beyond those trees stood men ready and willing to rush forward to take everything she and Hannah had. In the fortress there were men equally ready to defend the prize.

Directly in front of them stood Aniston Malfoy, a tall, handsome man with features that were painfully familiar to Hermione. This was what Draco would look like in a few years. Hair to his waist, gleaming in the midmorning sun. Those eyes, though…Those eyes held no warmth that Draco’s had. Hermione had the feeling that if Draco had not made that fateful decision he’d told her about, so too would his eyes appear.

Aniston Malfoy approached steadily, giving no indication that he was surprised to see them. Hermione knew, though, that he didn’t like it by the tightening of his mouth. “May I presume that I have the pleasure of meeting the ladies of the household?” Though polite, the words held no warmth.

“What are you here for?” Hannah asked coldly. She met Aniston’s hard stare unblinkingly, eyes as unyielding as stone.

Aniston flicked his tongue over his teeth as though he’d tasted something unpleasant. “I should have known barbarians would eschew even the barest of courtesies,” he drawled.

Hannah crossed her arms. “You’re trespassing, Englishman. You are lucky we didn’t kill ye the moment you came within sight.” She challenged him silently with her clenched jaw and defiant stance, quickly slipping into her old role as the assertive twin. Once upon a time Hermione had been the one that had looked to her sister for support and guidance. Time and tragedy had briefly reversed their positions, but as Hermione looked on, Hannah pinned Aniston with that familiar arched brow. “State yer intentions and get the hell off of our land,” Hannah commanded brusquely.

Aniston eyed the women before him. They had brought only the barest guard. So had he. It was the way of these things. Yet Aniston had the added assurance of his…gifts. What abilities had they brought to the meeting? This family had once been known for abilities that went far beyond the comprehension of many, even in the magical world. Aniston could sense natural magic here, but how much? The breeding twin resonated, but the silent twin…

There was something there, dampened to a level that made it nowhere the degree of the pregnant one’s aura. According to the stories, there was only one Guardian in each generation. Who was it? Which woman held the thing he craved most?

Aniston’s jaw worked. So close. He was so close! This was the moment that would make his lifelong struggle worthwhile. The victory of all victories, the fight that would erase his baseborn parentage forever from the minds of society. Never again would they disregard his power.

He glared at the twins. “So that is the way we will conduct our affairs? With no pretty tidings to impede our progress? Very well.” He stepped forward, eyes blazing with fervent light. “I know what you are,” he hissed. “I know what you protect, and I want it. Surrender it willingly.”

Aniston could not see it, but a shiver of fear raced up the twins’ backs. To him they showed nothing. To each other, their worry was plain. Hannah hid her swallow by snorting, as if the very notion of surrender amused her. “And if we do not?” she asked archly. How did you find out?!

“I will kill every single person in yonder fortress. Will you have that on your conscience, lady?”

Hannah’s eyes narrowed at the implied slur. “You are far from England, Master Malfoy.” A corner of her lips lifted in satisfaction when the light in Aniston’s eyes flickered briefly in confusion. Yes, she had seen his blood soaked rise to power. He’d murdered anyone who had stood in his way, the trail beginning in his childhood as a bastard and ending with the fatal beating of his father. The man had bestowed his land upon the child he had denied too long, only to find himself crippled and saddled with weak legitimate sons. Aniston had watched him bleed to death.

Here was a man who had no conscience, no humanity. But he still could not shirk his humble beginnings, she thought. She waved off the horde of men beyond where they stood. “Your army is no match for walls that have stood longer than memory. They will grow tired and homesick, deserting you for their families. Ye have no allies to aid you. Why should we be afraid of you?”

A moment, just long enough for a heartbeat, passed. Both women studied the blond man who suddenly smiled at them in cold delight. He smiled as if he knew something they didn’t and he was enjoying their ignorance. “Because,” he intoned, raising his hand in a strange gesture. Alarm fired in Hermione as Hannah stiffened, her head turning to the left. In that instant, Hermione knew they no longer controlled this meeting.

She was lurching forward even as Aniston finished, “I do no fight fair.”

Hannah found herself pushed violently to the side. She heard a whistle, a cry from Hermione, saw the ground rush up to her. She tried to roll, but it was too late!

Hermione clutched her arm. An arrow protruded sickeningly from her upper arm, buried deep. The pain was tremendous, but her healer’s mind registered that the wound would not maim her.

It would have hit Hannah in the neck.

More arrows flew. Thump thump thump thump. Her guards were hit. In the distance Hermione heard men shouting in denial. Her people would come to their aid, pouring from the gate, but not soon enough. Her guards were dead. Hermione staggered toward a screaming Hannah, miraculously untouched by barbs. They weren’t aiming for us, Hermione realized.

Aniston raised his unsheathed sword over Hannah, preparing to stab down. He snarled in beastly satisfaction. “The treasure will be mine!”

The sword fell.

Hermione’s dagger nicked his hand! Aniston jerked back in surprise, sparing Hannah at the last moment. Hermione stepped in front of her sister, who clutched her spasming stomach and cried, “The baby. Something’s wrong, Hermione!”

Aniston stared at the panting creature that glared at him in defiance, even with a pierced arm. Warriors were rushing out of the fortress behind her, screaming wildly as they came to her aid. They were closing in rapidly, but Aniston could not look away. He flexed his hand. “You should have aimed at my heart,” he observed.

“If I had been able to use me right hand,” she answered seriously, “rest assured ye’d be dead.”

“Then you have failed, little girl.” Aniston hefted his sword once more. “Die with your sister’s brat!”

“Hermione!” Hannah screamed.

Hermione threw up her arm as metal slashed down.

A flash of blue light. A crunch and a ringing. Then nothing but the thunder of feet.

Aniston stared at his broken weapon. Their eyes met. The unnatural blue looked back at him. No pupils, no irises, no whites. “You are the Guardian.”

“I am far more than that, Aniston Malfoy,” she told him, but not with a single voice. No, something else crackled in those tones, power beyond his wildest imaginings. For the first time in his life Aniston was enveloped by fear. Her words pricked his skin like little needles. If he had been able to move, he would have shuddered.

Her men were almost upon them, ready to fight to the death. The twin before him, the one called Hermione, held him with unblinking orbs. “Beware, Aniston Malfoy. Turn away now, before I find a way to send ye to hell.”

Aniston made his mouth move, staring at her with unholy determination. “I would gladly fight my way through those fiery depths for this treasure. So return you to your fortress, little girl, and comfort your sister as you watch me destroy all that you hold dear.”

And then he was gone, and then twins were enveloped in their own.

~*~
He’s been there forever, it seemed. Hours of endless contemplation and worrying, interspersed by shouts of rage. Draco had been reduced to simply sitting with his back to the wall and his head buried in his arms. All he could do, he realized, was wait.

If only Hermione hadn’t had the foresight to take his wand from him. She’d caught him unaware, and Draco had cursed himself viciously for allowing himself to be disarmed. Had the war taught him nothing? He had been a fool to trust her.

Just as anger began to build up again, it deflated. Who was he trying to convince? He’d passed blind rage hours ago. Draco hadn’t done what she had accused him of, but he had intended to. For all his crises of conscience, Draco had been prepared to find and tell Aniston the secret. Once the curse was lifted, he would have found out with every dirty trick he knew, how to save Hermione and Hannah, but the curse had to be lifted.

What good was he to them dead?

Hermione had broken her promise, but he had broken her trust. Now he was stuck here with nothing but time to think. How could he fix this? In all his wonderings, Draco had yet to come up with an answer. He was no good with moral issues. He barely possessed the basic morals, and that was after eight years of practice! What chance had he of making this right with Hermione?

Situations like this required one of those miracles he’d always heard about.

~*~
The baby needed to live!

Hannah screamed a little as another contraction hit her, despite her resolve. Her grip on Hermione’s hand was vise-like. Fear and desperate hope warred in her eyes. She wanted to believe. Hannah could not, would not lose faith that her baby would survive despite the terrible odds.

Hermione had given her a potion meant to restore her strength, but the closer to the birth she came, the sleepier Hannah felt. Was this normal?

“One more push,” the old midwife urged. The white haired woman had seen their own births and those of countless others. She knew in her bones something was wrong with the babe. She could see that Hermione realized it as well. Judging from the unusual and unnatural fatigue her sister was experiencing; it was obvious the lady intended to do something drastic.

With a long, drawn out cry, Hannah bore her son into the world. It lay very still in the midwife’s arms. “A boy,” she murmured.

“Let me see him.” Hannah’s words were slurring. Her eyes were falling closed, but still she held up her arms for her child. “I want to hold him.”

“I’ll hold him, Hannah,” Hermione interjected. She rushed to the midwife with a blanket, effectively hiding him from view. One glance confirmed her worst fear, and she closed her eyes as she said, “You’re so tired you might drop him.”

“Is that normal?” Hannah was fighting sleep fiercely.

A look of warning from Hermione prompted the midwife. “Aye,” she lied, holding Hermione’s gaze. “Close your eyes for a moment, lady. You’ll feel better soon.”

Hannah was just so weary… “Just for a moment.” She closed her eyes fully and was lost.

After waiting a time, the midwife sighed. “This is going to kill her. Sleep only delays the inevitable, my lady. Even you cannot bring back the dead.”

Hermione cradled the bundled child close. “This child lives.”

The midwife was startled. “My lady, the child has gone to God.”

The eyes that looked at her then were chips of amber. “This child,” Hermione emphasized, “lives.” She turned to the door. “Stay with her. It’ll be hours yet before she awakens.”

The midwife watched the door close softly. “I sense an ill change in the air,” she whispered fearfully, crossing herself. “Have a care, my lady.”

~*~
It was dark except for a single candle brought in by the guard. The man had refused to speak to Draco but had looked like he dearly wished to kill him. That particular urge had been intensified after that string of insults against the man’s mother. Draco was fairly certain that she was probably a virtuous woman, but hell, could the man not spare five words to tell him what was going on? Frustration had made Draco lash out.

That had been about an hour ago. Draco’s back hurt from sitting on unrelenting stone. He was just too tired to bother getting up and pacing one more time.

Draco raised his head. That had sounded like feet shuffling. Was the guard changing? No, the locks in the door were tumbling. Draco sat up straighter. Food?

The door swung open on well-oiled hinges. Hermione stepped into the candlelight, the weak beams cloaking her in a soft glow. She watched him stand slowly; saying nothing while Draco took in the hastily wrapped wound on her arm and the bundle in her embrace. “What happened?” he asked gravely. His heart had slowed its rhythm, impeded by dread.

“All Aniston requires is that ye find the secret, yes? Your curse will be lifted then.” She spoke very solemnly, with barely an inflection to disrupt the tone.

“Yes.”

“Then come with me.”

~*~
She took him to the cavern.

Draco descended the stairs cautiously behind her, ill at ease. Perhaps it was the remnants of the horror he’d experienced upon first discovering this watery chamber. He instinctively looked for Aniston’s chest, still half surprised when it wasn’t there. Draco’s eyes swept the interior over and over. To him, it still echoed with ghosts.

Mostly, however, his tension was due to the girl who even now turned to look up at him. She hadn’t spoken once since emancipating him from his cell. He wanted to know what had been done to her arm, but was afraid that he already knew.

Aniston had arrived, and time was running out.

He reached the bottom. Hermione pointed at the tunnel and said seriously, “That is the way out of here. Only members of my family may pass through.” Lowering her arm, she held her bundle closer and began to walk toward the water. “My people were once nomads who took shelter in this very cavern. Amazing things happened here. They discovered this was one of those rare places that held natural magic.”

Something pricked at the back of Draco’s neck, making the hairs stand on end. He stopped his already halting steps. She was leading up to something. Hermione’s eyes were flat, resigned, as if she had resolved to a course of action that may still lead to a disaster.

Hermione sighed. “They began to build, Draco. They were nomads no more. This cavern was warded against intruders, and another passage was cut through the dungeons for the others to use if they needed. This castle is out home, but…it is so much more.”

She hadn’t looked at him again. She hadn’t called him Stranger. She hadn’t said anything that gave him a clue about what she was thinking. Right then, even with his heart beginning to thump with dreadful anticipation, Draco felt incredibly alone.

She walked to the edge of the water. “You have to help me with this,” she told Draco. “Hannah is usually the one who casts what I need.”

Draco nodded, withdrawing his newly returned wand. “Which charm do you need to cast?”

“Charm? There is no charm.” She ignored his look of surprise. “Give me your hand.” She was holding her little palm out, waiting for him. I wish it still meant more, he told her with his eyes. He reached out and took her hand in his, ignoring the painful squeezing in his heart.

“Now wave, and watch.” Draco looked from her to the lake. She seemed very sure of this. Well, who was he to argue? He gripped his wand tightly and performed the basic swish and flick maneuver. The cave wall, feet upon feet of what Draco would have sworn were insurmountable rock, disappeared entirely.

Leaving a whole new cavern behind.

Draco gaped. “Hopping Hufflepuffs on All Hallow’s Eve,” he breathed in astonishment. “An illusion.” The formerly modest waterfall had grown by leaps and bounds. It rushed over the stones to their left, extending along the wall and on into the darkness. The lake itself was no longer clear, but a murky massive body without an end in sight. It could go on for miles, Draco thought, and one would never truly know.

Hermione made to step forward, but Draco held her back. “Draco,” she admonished, “I can handle this from here.” He didn’t look convinced, but allowed her hand to slip from his nonetheless. She paid no heed to the water soaking her skirts as her feet were submersed. She looked over her shoulder at Draco, who noticed a strange light had entered her eyes. “This castle, this cavern, this lake…they are all guardians. And so am I.” She turned back to face the lake and lifted her hand over the water. “Rise.”

A light, bigger and brighter than it had a right to be, began to glow in the distant watery depths. The water roiled noisily as something large began to rise. Draco rushed forward. “Hermione-!” His arms encircled her and he jerked her back. She didn’t fight him but laid a hand on his chest. “Draco, watch. There’s no danger.” Draco turned reluctantly, but refused to let her go.

The light was growing brighter as it neared the surface. Finally it broke through and formed a single beam, straight and true. It struck the ceiling and burst, the energy rushing over the couple on shore. Draco shuddered, not from fear, but from sheer feeling. Never had he felt such purity! The light scattered over the roof, over the cavern, and seemed to sink into the very rock itself, creating stars within the earth. Great monoliths emerged from the same point of origin, like fingers reaching for the newly born sky. They rose until a common base appeared, and with it a long walkway that came to the shore. With a great shudder it halted. The water calmed, and all was dark except for the twinkling stars. Draco realized that he was holding his breath when the stones began to softly glow, humming with power. The air left him with a whoosh. “Well, I‘m impressed.” he quipped feebly. He was feeling a bit faint. The emotional roller coaster of the past hour was getting to him.

The monoliths formed a perfect circle that surrounded a raised dais. Something glittered in the center of each stone, but Draco was too far away to see what it was. Hermione moved in his arms, which he tightened instantly. “It’s alright,” she soothed. “There’s nothing to be afraid of here. My ancestors created this place.”

“They had too much time on their hands,” he muttered.

“Come. We must do this while there’s time.” She took his hand in hers again and led him to the walkway that had risen out of the lake. Draco had no time to do anything but follow. The power he sensed here was distracting him anyway, sending goosebumps and shivers of awareness up his arms and down his spine. When they reached the entrance to the monolith, Draco drew back in shock.

There were people in the stones!

No, not people. Draco reached out and gingerly touched the closest stone, tracing the upraised features of a young woman. Faces. Each stone was intricately carved with faces, which were painted. They looked like they would smile and laugh at him at any given moment. “Your ancestors,” he said.

Hermione nodded. “Not all of them. Just the ones who guarded this place. When our gift is passed on, our face appears on a stone. A visual history.” She traced the cheek of the one next to Draco. It was a man, with brown eyes and curly dark hair with a streak of gray running through. “My father. He was a verra great man. I miss him.”

It was then that Draco saw what emitted the glow that had first caught his eye. Precious stones the size of his fist were embedded into each towering obelisk. Draco’s eyes traveled from one to another, mentally cataloguing. Bloodstone, the stone of courage. Agate, the stone of balance. Hematite, the stone of the mind. Azuritz, the stone of Heaven. Emerald, the healer’s stone. Sodalite for insight and intuition. Lolite for inner knowledge. And finally Charoite, the stone of change and transformation.

Draco did a slow turn, taking it all in, unable to close his mouth. He vaguely noticed Hermione moving to stand in the center of the structure. This was it. This was what Aniston was looking for. This circle was likely one of the most powerful magic places in the world. Imagine what a wizard could do if he used it to amplify his own magic. Imagine what Aniston could do.

He whirled to face Hermione. “Why are you showing me this?” he demanded. Confusion and fear were racing through his blood, making him angry. All he had to do was get in touch with his ancestor. The curse would be lifted, and he would finally be free. Hermione had delivered to him the key to his salvation…and her death.

She would die, he realized. Pain wrenched through him, tearing at his heart. He imagined her dying, her laughter forever silenced. No more warm touches, no more smiles, no more stories, no more Hermione.

He stormed toward the dais. “Why, Hermione?! Why did you do this? Why show it to some stranger who might betray you?” he shouted at her.

She met him steadily. “Destiny has taken the helm. You are fated to be here, in this time and in this place.” She swallowed. “I put you in the dungeon to prevent what I saw in the cauldron from happening. I tried to stop you from learning about this place so that I could save lives, but I saw today what denying Destiny does,” she whispered. She unwrapped her bundle, letting the blanket drift to the floor. Draco stared at the baby in her arms.

“Hermione. Is that-- Oh, my god. Is that Hannah’s baby?” A sick feeling assaulted him. What’s happening? What the bloody hell is happening?

Hermione nodded, fighting back tears. “Aniston did this to him. I did this to him. I thought I could fight fate, but I can’t. Locking you away did not prevent any of my visions from happening. They are out of order, but still they are occurring. In my vision you knew my secret, and your life was spared. I am giving you your life back, Draco Malfoy.” She stepped upon the dais, straightening her shoulders. “And I am giving the baby his.”

Draco was struck by a flash of insight. “Hermione!”

“Arcesso.”

Instantly, the gemstones lit up as bright as the sun. Draco instinctively threw up his arms to protect his eyes, stumbling a bit. Thousands of voices shouted, chanted, laughed, sang, rose and fell. One by one the gems, except the Charoite, threw beams of energy into Hermione with the force of physical blows until they connected with one another at the common port…her. Wind from nowhere rose up and swirled around her, whipping her hair and clothes in the gale. Draco saw her clutch the baby closer, her back arching. She threw her head back as if she was in great pain, her eyes wide and unblinking. He saw her lips moving as he struggled to get closer to her, but he couldn’t hear her and he couldn’t get past the forces that were separating them. The voices got ever louder and began to harmonize, men and woman saying things in a language Draco couldn’t understand.

Hermione’s heart began to glow.

Dear gods, what was happening? He could see the organ through her clothes, could hear it beating louder and louder. He tried to shout, to help her, but he couldn’t find his voice. Panic was welling up inside of him. Please be all right, he begged her fervently. Please, please be all right! Suddenly the Charoite, which stood at her back, burst. A pillar of fire flew at Hermione as true as an arrow, piercing her heart!

Draco screamed his denial, certain she was dead.

She lurched forward from the impact, but amazingly managed to keep her feet. Draco watched anxiously as she raised her head…and smiled. There, not one foot in front of her was another stone. It floated in the air with nothing to hold it, a brilliant blue gem that had no name. It seemed to suck up all the voices and gales inside of it until there was no sound but the beating of Draco’s heart in his own ears. It came out of her heart, he kept thinking. That thing had been living inside of her this whole time.

Hermione reached out and cupped the gem in her small hand, bringing it to her mouth. She blew on it, making it glow softly in her fist, wisps of magic trailing from it. She gently laid it against the baby’s small chest. To Draco’s shock the gem sank into the infant’s skin. The heart glowed brightly for a moment, then faded. The power crystals surrounding Hermione did the same, disappearing completely in moments. The Charoite was once again intact, as though nothing monumental had just happened.

“Wake up, little one,” Hermione said softly. “Your mummy will be missing you.” She brushed a fingertip over the baby’s nose, tickling it. The baby’s eyes opened. It sucked in a great big breath…and began to cry.

Hermione found that her knees would no longer support her. She collapsed in a billow of fabric to the floor.

Hermione held up an arm, preventing Draco from coming any closer. “Stay where you are!” she panted. She felt so weak! She could not remember a time when the gem had not resided within her. She felt hollow, like her soul had poured out onto the dais. Hermione swallowed down belated panic, gathering her courage.

Draco halted at her command, unsure of what to do. Then he shook himself. Since when did he take orders (without his mother being threatened)? “Don’t be stupid, Hermione-” He started forward again.

Hermione moved back and shouted, “I said stay away from me!” The baby started, and she had to cuddle the infant closer. “You,” she huffed, “have a choice to make, Draco Malfoy. Here and now. You know the secret that will save you. This place,” she panted, “will amplify magic exponentially, yes, but it is not the true secret. The Guardians aren’t just protectors. We are keys.”

Draco shook his head, not comprehending.

“We protect the gift given to us with our lives. By the same token, the gift gives us life so that we may protect it. This place is dangerous by itself, but if one with the gift stands within it…Nothing could defeat it. And if the gift is passed onto one with aspirations of eternal life, he could bring himself from the brink of death infinite times. Aniston wants that, Draco. He wants to live forever, and rule over the world.”

She stared him down. “I have trusted you with the knowledge of eternal life as well as the location of one of the most powerful weapons on earth.” She stopped to drag in more breath. When had the act become so difficult? The wound in her arm throbbed. She knew that the life-giving entity she had protected for so long, no longer cushioned her pain.

Draco couldn’t move. What she said was true. He now knew secrets that made not only Hermione vulnerable, but also the entire Wizarding World. He had just been given exactly what Aniston wanted.

“What will you do with that knowledge, Draco?” She looked at him with an unfathomable expression. “What will you do?”

Indecision had frozen Draco to place. Once, not too long ago, the answer would have been clear to him. There had been a time when he would have eagerly taken the power and all its possibilities for himself. He would have relished the high, exploited the resource, exalted in rising so far above. He would have ruled everything in existence, an absolute monarch.

Draco was not so far removed from his teenage self that he felt no temptation. It would be so easy. Aniston would be at his mercy. Hell, everyone would be at his mercy! No one would be able to challenge him.

He could live forever.

Draco felt himself sway.

Are you still that same boy, then? Are you still that same child?

No! Draco thought emphatically, struggling against the silken voice that had guided him for most of his life and of which had denied since he was seventeen. He was not the same Draco Malfoy that had blindly repeated his father’s footsteps!

Remember what it was like to break free, Draco? Remember how you felt when you realized you were doing the right thing for the first time in your life?

He remembered. He recalled the exact moment it had happened. Very few incidences in his life since had come close to matching it. Draco Malfoy had become something more to himself then, and that was in danger of being forsaken in exchange for an immortal life.

And if he lost himself, Draco thought, as he looked at the girl kneeling on the ground, there would be nothing left to live for.

Voldemort had gotten lost in his fight for power. He’d never been satisfied, and it had led to his destruction. Even Draco’s own father had fallen prey to power’s seduction. Where had that left the Malfoy family in the end? Still searching, that’s where. Still looking for the ultimate treasure that would finally, finally fill that empty space inside. Ironically, that search had led him here.

To Hermione.

Draco blinked. Would he be able to live forever with the knowledge that Hermione could not look him in the eye for shame? Taking the power for himself would cost him Hermione. Draco breathed out. “I will stay here with you.”

The alternative just wasn’t worth the price he would have had to pay.

~*~
“I never broke my promise.”

They sat on their roof. Barely a day had passed since then, but yesterday morning seemed years ago. The stars were just beginning to peek down from the heavens. Draco turned toward Hermione. “What do you mean?”

“The coin. I never dropped it in the cauldron.” She sighed. “Knowing the future without asking ye at least one more time felt like a betrayal of--” What was the right word? She shrugged, finding none that were completely accurate. “Of us. Of this thing between us. It felt wrong, and so I let the coin fall beside the cauldron.”

Draco braced his elbows on his legs and his chin on his fist, listening silently. Hermione chuckled mirthlessly. “What I didn’t know was that Hannah had used the cauldron earlier. She left the coin inside. She…wanted to see if the baby would be a boy or a girl. She saw nothing.” But then, the babe had been dead, had it not? What strange tricks magic played.

Draco stared blindly at the horizon. She had really trusted him, then. Draco remembered realizing that he would rather cut off a finger than see her trust die. He’d thought that breaking her promise had killed trust. The truth was that he’d found a way to murder faith after all. Now they were in a gray area, unsure of the next step to make. “What do we do, Hermione? Where do we go?”

Hermione considered it. They had two options, as far as she could see. They could pretend what had been there was there no longer. It was a safe road. Neither would have to face any messy feelings in a moment where it seemed like the world was spinning out of control. Safe--but lonely.

That left one other recourse. Hold breath and jump, trusting she and he would catch one another.

Draco watched Hermione reach for the chain of her amulet. She tugged the jewel out of her bodice. To his surprise two amulets hung from the necklace. She worked one free. “The rose never lies,” she said, holding up the pendant. “This belongs to you.”

Draco took it, staring into the liquid depths. “Do you want to be with me because the pendant says so?” he asked quietly.

“No.” Eyes locked. “I want to be with you because I love you, Draco Malfoy. The pendant only shows the way. The heart does as it wills.”

This, Draco thought as she leaned forward and pressed soft lips to his, is the most perfect moment of my life.

Hermione’s kiss was sweet and untutored. It touched him in ways even the most practiced had not. She kissed him because it meant something; because it expressed emotions that were often cheapened in the life he’d once lived. For a moment Draco savored the sensation. He was temporarily content to simply be kissed. Soon, of course, he couldn’t ignore his own need to show her his heart. He cupped her face and kissed her back, teaching her with patience. He loved the feel of her hands cupping his neck.

The moment broke when he touched her tongue with his. Hermione jerked back in surprise, giggling at the stunned expression on his face. “What did ye do that for?” she laughed.

“It’s what people do!” he protested, and then chuckled at his own defensiveness. Did it really matter how they kissed? Lips were meeting, and that was what he should be focusing on! He let his forehead meet hers, pushing her hair behind her ears. “But we don’t have to. Right away.” He did like that sort of thing, after all.

“What are you thinking about?” she murmured.

“Oh, that I’m lucky. That I can’t believe it’s finally happened. That I’m in love with you.”

She snuggled into his arms. He relished the feel of her there. “Tell me everything, Draco. Tell me about your life, about your goals, about nothing at all if you like. Just talk with me until the sun comes up.”

“For that long?” Draco sighed as if the possibility itself tired him out. “Where should I start?”

“At the beginning, of course.”

And so he did.

~*~
“I bloody well will not, Hermione, and that’s final!” Draco growled menacingly. He turned to walk away, but she pulled him back.

“Stop running away, ye fool, and listen to me!” Frustration and tension nipped at her patience. She gripped his shirt so that he could not go without taking her with him. “I doona want ye to go either, but ‘tis the only way!”

Draco glared back at her. “No, it’s suicide! Going to Aniston’s tent and telling him that I know the secret, and- Oh! It just happened to be literally living inside of the Guardian seals not only my fate but yours, you daft Gryffindor!” He was shouting by now.

Only the knowledge that this man was genuinely afraid for her wellbeing prevented her from hitting him (repeatedly). Hermione sucked in a breath and tried for a calmer tone. “Unless you tell Aniston face to face what you know, Stranger, you can’t be sure the curse is broken.”

She would address the question of what a Gryffindor was later.

Damn her and her logic! Draco swore to himself. “He’ll have no idea what I’m talking about. He hasn’t invented the curse yet,” he ground out.

She shook her head. Her hand had loosened and was smoothing the fabric of his shirt absently. “He never specified when he be told. This will work to our advantage. Think, my love! The more confused you keep Aniston, the longer you have the upper hand.” She implored him with eyes slightly dimmed by worry.

“What you’re suggesting is dangerous, Hermione,” Draco told her in a low voice. “What if something goes wrong? What if…what if he sends me back to my time?” Draco ducked his head, ashamed of the fear evident in his voice. Would he ever get used to baring his emotions to her?

Hermione stroked his cheek gently. “Stranger…I never expected you to stay here with me.”

Draco’s head reared up. He looked betrayed.

“Nay, hear me out. Ye came here so suddenly. In a blink of an eye ye arrived from one time to another. In the back of my mind I always thought that ye would leave the same way.” She smiled ruefully. “Even when I suspected my feelings for you went beyond that of a hostess, I refused to delve deeper. I didna want to hurt when you left. Ye would leave, because what reason had ye to stay?” she asked quietly.

“You.” Draco was earnest, unable and unwilling to hide the need he felt for her. “I would stay here for you.” He cupped her neck. This was not something she would ever be able to doubt with him. Never this.

Her smile was small, but so beautiful. It was full of love for him. Draco filed it quickly away and vowed to himself that he would do whatever it took to see it again.

“I knew ye would. I want ye to stay.” Her smile dimmed. “But ye are no good to me dead.” Her tone turned urgent and commanding. “So you will go, you will tell Aniston what you need to, and ye will come back to me.” She shook him a little. “Ye have to come back.”

Gods, what could he do? He dragged her into his arms hugging her so tightly she might have had trouble breathing. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the dread and the doubts. “All right,” he forced out quickly. “All right, Hermione. I’ll do this. Just promise me you’ll be waiting for me when I come back.”

“I promise.” Hermione stepped away, dashing at stray tears quickly and pointing to the battlement. “There. I’ll watch you go. You will see me there when you return. But you have to go now.” She took him by the hand and tugged him along. “While I still have strength to let ye go.”

He certainly hadn’t intended to leave so soon, but Draco realized quickly that it was now or never. If he waited, he would remember what an utter stupidity this course of action was!

When the secret door slid open, Hermione practically threw herself in his arms. Draco was smothered in kisses that were fervently placed anywhere she could reach. He returned the favor just as ardently, suddenly very afraid. As abruptly as she had jumped on him, Hermione tore herself away. “Go,” she urged.

Draco put his hand on the door. “Aniston knows about this,” he confessed. “I don’t know if I’m the one that tells him, Hermione.”

Hermione nodded. “Do whatever you have to. Just come back to me.”

With one last long look, Draco stepped through. The door closed behind him.

Hermione ran. She didn’t care who she pushed out of the way. She ignored cries of indignation as she went ever up, clutching her amulet in a white fist. She reached the battlement an eternity later.

He looked up, a small figure far away from her. Hermione raised a shaking hand and waved at him. He couldn’t see her convulsive swallow. Draco grabbed hold of his own amulet, no doubt just as warm as hers. He waved back with forced cockiness before resolutely trudging off toward Aniston’s encampment. To her complete astonishment, he disappeared!

Hermione gasped. She leaned over frantically and searched for any sign of him. Just as she was about to panic, she ruthlessly grabbed reason back. He was still alive. Here was the proof in her very hand. The amulet glowed as brightly as ever, its soothing warmth tangible against her skin. Stranger was not lost to her.

So there she stood, bathed in the rising light of day, staring across the distance and praying that the fear in her heart was for nothing.

~*~
TBC…