The Fool, the Emperor, and the Hanged Man

Title: The Fool, the Emperor, and the Hanged Man
Author: moirasfate/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!




The Fool, the Emperor, and the Hanged Man

Part 8



The next time I woke, it was to music again. Soft, sensual notes came from the other room, it was jazz…Dave Burbeck’s ‘Take Five.’

The thought came again that the music selection was wonderfully soothing to me, and that Malfoy, despite his manners, had great taste.

It is my music, not his, my gramophone…Severus Snape whispered.

I sighed. I knew I was simply dreaming Severus Snape’s voice, but it was comforting to hear his deep baritone words. Where had his presence in my mind been all this time?

Fighting Potter’s curse, I couldn’t let him destroy us again.

I opened my eyes, troubled by Severus Snape’s answer.

I was surprised when I was able to sit up on my own. I could feel power in my limbs and my head did not ache. It was as if someone had poured liquid energy into my body, and I was able to stand, to move. The first thing I did was go to the door, peeking into the other room. It was a parlour, of sorts, with windows facing the Lake, and I wondered if the windows had been magicked to show the impossible view.

A fireplace stood directly across from the door, a large leather wingback chair near the fire. There was a couch below the windows, and from all appearances, it had been a bed to Malfoy, I suspected. Bookcases lined the walls, and a table and two chairs set in the middle of the room with a low hanging light dangling from above. There were two doors, and one, I assumed was the bathroom, the other, the exit.

I steadied myself with a hand upon the bookcases as I entered the parlour, moving to the gramophone on a low table next to the couch. In a floor rack beside the table was a collection of records, and that was where I went.

The Clash, Ella Fitzgerald, Beethoven, Bach, Django Reinhardt, Nat King Cole, David Bowie, The Rolling Stones, Gary Numan, Enrico Caruso, the names of artists went on and on, and varied.

So these were Severus Snape’s records, which meant that the bed I had convalesced had been Severus Snape’s. The rooms, the books, the furniture, all of it had been his? I suddenly felt as if I were trespassing, and backed away from the records, letting the gramophone click as the track ended to start all over again. I frowned, and turned to look about the parlour again. Where was Malfoy?

I sighed and let my shoulders slump. I suddenly missed the other Malfoy in my life…my familiar. If I was to be alone, I wanted to be able to speak to my cat rather than talk to myself. But then again, I was not really alone.

I moved to the left most door, and was happy to find that it was indeed a bathroom. It was modest in size, compared to the one in Malfoy Manor, but the tub was larger, more like the bathrooms in Hogwarts. On the counter of the sink I found my toothbrush and a change of clean clothes. The fact that someone had been digging through my coat’s bottomless pocket annoyed me, but it saved me from having to dig through it myself.

I bathed; washing off the staleness of convalescence, elated that there was no pain or minor ache in my head. Everything was very clear and not wrapped in discomfort. It was as I soaked in the fragrant, hot water, that I began to think.

Foremost in my mind was Parvati’s words. A spell had been cast upon me at some point, a spell that was imbedded so deeply into me that it would be perilous to try to remove the spell. The spell had also heightened my resistance to Harry’s curse.

And that spell was probably why I was hearing Severus Snape’s voice in my head. I was not ‘hearing voices’ for the voice was real…and it was protecting me in some way. Albus’ words came back to me…two people were responsible for ‘grooming’ me. Had Snape been one of them? But why, and to what end?

To stop Harry.

I splashed water in my face and gasped. It was no time to be thinking about the spell placed upon me, the immediate danger was Harry.

Harry, who now had the Resurrection Stone. Harry, who had murdered two centaurs. Harry, who had killed four people, nearly five including myself. Harry, who had hit his wife. Harry, who had lost so many people in his life due to one man. Harry, who had survived that one man. Harry, who was a man of prophecy…the Hanged Man.

“Let my own house be my gallows,” I whispered to myself, quickly dejected by thoughts of Harry.

Dante does not apply here, Miss Granger…Severus whispered back.

I smirked.

I left the warmth of the water and reached for a clean towel hanging from a peg on the wall, wrapping it around me, not bothering with my nearly non-existent hair. I felt better, cleaner, and I realized quickly that I was famished.

As I began dressing, I blinked when I found my wand resting under a long sleeved thermal shirt. Merlin, I had not even thought about my wand when I woke… But when I finished dressing in a long, heavy black skirt, woolen socks, my soft black thermal top, I slipped my wand into the sleeve of my shirt.

Moving into the parlor again, I went to the gramophone, lifting the needle gently and removing the record. I found the sleeve resting upon the windowsill, and I sighed, gently slipping the LP gently inside. I knelt on the floor, flipping through the rack when a soft pop startled me, and a covered plate appeared upon the table in the middle of the room, a pitcher of pumpkin juice, flatware, a goblet, a tea pot in a cozy and a tea cup.

I smiled; I was most definitely back in Hogwarts.

Pulling an LP from the rack, I put the record on, gently placing the needle on the surface. The first track, Side A, The Clash’s ‘London Calling,’ began, and I rose from the floor to move to the table.

Lunch consisted of a cream based soup with chicken. A few slices of hot French bread were added as a side, the elves obviously remembering the way I liked to dip my bread in my soup. I had spent enough time in the Hospital Wing during my school days that the elves knew what sorts of dishes to prepare while I was on the mend. For a bit of something sweet, a small bowl of bread pudding was emitting hot, sugary steam as I ravenously ate my soup.

I was into the bread pudding by the time ‘Hateful’ started.

My stomach gurgled when I sat back, preparing to pour some tea, however the sound of the activating Floo startled me so that I poured tea not into the cup, but onto the tabletop. When Malfoy came through the green flames, seeming to roll on the rug to come to his feet just beside the table where I sat, I slammed the teapot down in shock.

Malfoy’s face was a mess, as was his hair. He wore a heavy cloak over black slacks, white dress shirt, and black blazer, his badge attached to the front pocket. His nose had been broken and blood streamed down his face in bright red trails, staining his lips and his stubbly chin. His right eye was swollen shut and his right cheek was cut and bruised. Glancing down to his hands, I could see that he had torn the skin from his knuckles on his right hand and that his left hand had at least two broken fingers.

I leapt to my feet, but Malfoy ignored me, striding angrily to the bathroom, pulling his wand.

“Bloody hell…” he slurred, leaning towards the mirror over the sink.

I jogged to the doorway, turning back to flick my wand to stop the gramophone. Luckily, my spell worked fine and a faint smile turned my lips.

“Fucking Muggles…” Malfoy muttered before casting a healing Charm so that the crumpled bridge of his nose straightened.

“Malfoy?”

Merlin, I sounded horrible.

“Not now, Granger, I need to clean this up…”

Malfoy’s voice sounded better after fixing his nose. Two more spells and the blood was gone and the cuts on his face healed. I barely heard him mutter that he needed a potion from Poppy before magically setting the fingers in his left hand, Conjuring a bandage to keep the middle and ring finger straight. Awkwardly he moved his wand to his left hand and healed the knuckles of the right.

After Malfoy seemed satisfied that he had taken care of the worst of the damage, he turned to me, his left eye stormy grey, his right eye still swollen shut.

“You know why I hate fucking Muggles?”

I shook my head, frowning.

“They have no fucking manners!”

“What happened, Malfoy?” I asked softly, crossing my arms and leaning into the door.

“Muggles, that’s what happened!”

I sighed. “That does not tell me anything.”

Malfoy narrowed his functioning eye. “And why are you out of bed? You need to be resting,” he growled with admonishment.

“I feel fine. I took a bath, ate lunch and was about to have some tea. Why don’t we sit down have some?” I suggested, hoping to diffuse Malfoy’s anger and get some straight answers.

“Tea? Are you fucking kidding me? Firewhiskey is what I want right now!” Malfoy grumbled.

It seemed to me that he was not going to calm down unless I found him some alcohol.

“As it is, Malfoy, we are in a school, I doubt that there’s going to be much Firewhiskey about,” I sighed.

Malfoy’s eye narrowed even further, and he pushed past me into the parlor, moving to the bookcases.

“Severus kept a bottle around here somewhere…ah ha!”

I whirled at Malfoy’s exclamation just to see him pull a hardback copy of ‘Crime and Punishment’ from the bookcase nearest the bedroom, extracting a bottle of amber colored brandy.

“It’s not Firewhiskey, but it will do,” Malfoy muttered, dropping the book to the floor and falling into my seat at the table.

Little bastard has my twenty-five year old single malt…I heard Severus hiss in my head.

I sighed, moving to collect the book Malfoy had dropped, and slid it back into place. As Malfoy was pulling at the cap with his teeth, I moved to the opposite chair, Vanishing the tea I had spilt, and sat down. I watched Malfoy with disdain as he managed to open the bottle, spitting the cap onto the table, and took a drink.

“You aren’t drinking his brandy just to push the pain in your face aside, are you?”

Malfoy swallowed thickly, making a face as the brandy went down.

“This tastes better than some of those potions Poppy has for pain.”

I couldn’t disagree, however…

“It is barely the afternoon, Malfoy…”

“Shut it, Granger. I really do not need your mouth right now,” he muttered with less fire to his words.

He took another drink, but did not make a face as it went down. He used his left thumb to undo the clasp of his cloak, shrugging off so that it fell across the chair. I could see a few spots of blood on the collar of his shirt and a splash more darkening his green tie.

“You said ‘his’ brandy…” Malfoy grumbled, staring at me from across the small table.

“Snape’s.”

Malfoy nodded. “Not curious as to why we’re in his quarters?”

I shrugged, “Should I be?”

Malfoy quirked his lips, preparing to take another drink. “You are curious, I can tell…now that you know.”

I did not answer as Malfoy took another drink, slamming the bottle down onto the tabletop, jarring the teapot and cup. I blinked, and poured myself a cup, not bothering with the cream and sugar.

“McGonagall was a sentimental old hag, she kept these rooms for Severus after he and I fled at the end of our sixth year. When we returned, Severus, as far as I knew, never used these rooms. But, McGonagall kept them, warded them, hid them…so I took advantage of that when I Apparated back with you…”

I nodded, lifting the tea to my lips, keeping my anger about Malfoy calling Minerva a ‘hag’ to myself.

“You were lying in Severus’ bed, and Merlin knows what he did in that bed…”

Sodding ferret, I slept in it, of course…Severus raged within, causing me to wince. But I knew what Malfoy was trying to say…and I did not want to think about it.

“And where were you? Why does your face look like you were on the losing side of a fight with a manticore? You said something about Muggles?” I asked calmly, changing the subject.

Malfoy hissed, moving to take another drink, but stopped short as my hand shot out and grabbed the bottle. I surprised myself with the speed in which I moved, but Malfoy was even more surprised when I pulled the bottle from his fingers effortlessly.

“That’s enough, Malfoy. Answer my questions, and I might consider letting you drink through the rest of Snape’s brandy later tonight,” I said calmly, acting as if I had done the most natural thing by moving as I had.

Malfoy shrugged, his cheeks already pink from the alcohol. He sat back in his chair and pulled his wand to light a large fire in the grate. Slipping his wand back into the holster hidden beneath his blazer he turned his attention to me again.

“I cannot believe that you were raised with Muggles, Granger. Do all of them know how box bare-fisted?”

An eyebrow arched, “Pardon?”

Malfoy shook his head and closed his eyes.

“We almost had Potter.”

The blood drained from my face. “Almost?”

Malfoy nodded. “He has been living in the Muggle world all this time. Well, probably not now, but that was why we were having a hard time locating him.”

“Where was he?”

“We nearly had him in Surrey, but he was staying in London with a relative.”

I racked my brain. Relative? And then I bit my lip. The Dursleys?

“His cousin, Dudley Dursley put Potter up soon after Potter escaped from St. Mungo’s. Of course, the Muggle had no idea what Potter had become or what he had done. This Dudley is not the sharpest arrow in the quiver.”

I smirked. Harry was not stupid, he had used the Muggles to insulate himself, and it had worked well, for a while… But what I remembered about Dudley Dursley was that he was much like his parents, fearing Harry for being different. I wondered how Harry could have appealed to Dudley…if Harry used the Imperius, it would be traced, therefore, Harry would have to be convincing in some way.

“Dudley Dursley is the Muggle you’ve been angry about?”

“He did this to my face, Granger!” Malfoy growled, pointing to his swollen eye.

I felt a giggle, but held it in. “Why?”

“I was getting to that. Where was I?

Oh, yes. The fat fucking Muggle bastard who did this to me… Last night, Potter killed his aunt and uncle in Surrey.”

Merlin…two more…

Ron and I were both privy to Harry’s feelings about the Dursley’s, but Harry had never hated them so much as to murder them.

“Dudley Dursley let Harry stay in his London flat, feeling a closer kinship with his cousin. I suppose Dursley felt sorry for Potter, but it was probably a bit of guilt as well.”

“You’ve heard about Harry’s life with the Dursley’s?”

“It is mentioned in the Pensieve logs of Potter’s therapy sessions.”

“What?” I asked in gasped.

“You cannot see them, Granger, and I shouldn’t have mentioned it…” Malfoy grumbled, using his right hand to brush several long strands of silver hair from his eyes.

Narrowing my eyes, I placed some more information into my mental filing cabinet.

“Continuing…Potter was living with Dursley as a type of flat mate. Potter kept the place clean, bought groceries, among other things, according to Dursley. The fat Muggle had no clue as to what Potter did when he disappeared at times, nor did he care to know.

Dursley told me that about a week ago he rang his mother, mentioning Potter. This call caused Petunia Dursley to panic. Somehow she knew that Potter was wanted for murder, and somehow she knew to contact Hogwarts. A letter was received by Longbottom two days ago, which was then forwarded to me since I was the most senior officer in or near the castle. So, we moved on intelligence from Petunia Dursley.

Potter had expressed an interest to visit his aunt and uncle to Dudley Dursley. Dursley was hesitant to go to Surrey because of a falling out between father and son. However, Petunia Dursley made to welcome Potter, expecting the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to lay in wait at a certain time. Unfortunately for the Dursleys, Potter arrived at the Number Four Privet Drive last night instead of tonight as had been planned.

From what we can tell from the scene, Petunia Dursley attempted to send another correspondence by way of a Squib who lived nearby, an Arabella Figg. Petunia Dursley had welcomed Potter and her son, prepared dinner, and slipped out the back of the house to contact Arabella Figg when she was caught.

From that point, the events become a bit fuzzy. Dudley Dursley remembered eating dinner with Potter and family, the next thing he remembers is sitting at the dinner table, his father Vernon in the next seat, disemboweled, and Petunia Dursley decapitated on the kitchen floor, her head was found inside a cupboard under the stairs later on. Potter was sitting across from Dudley Dursley, eating dessert. Dudley Dursley immediately tried to escape, but Potter restrained him in his chair at the dinning table.

Dursley remembered Potter saying one thing to him before he was knocked out cold.”

I swallowed. “What did he say?”

Malfoy’s expression was grave. “Something about ‘Don’t pity the dead, pity the living…’”

“’and above all, pity those who live without love…’” I finished.

I felt very ill. Malfoy had mentioned George saying very similar words before he died…

After the Last Battle, after we had been healed and rested, Harry told Ron and I about everything that happened up until he battled Voldemort. He told us about seeing his parents, Sirius, and Remus with the Resurrection Stone. He told us about Albus in King’s Cross…and that phrase in particular. It was like a proverb to Harry, while I just thought it as merely wise words of parting from the Headmaster that were fundamental to everyone who had their hearts and minds set upon the Light.

I remembered the words, they were poignant. But Harry…Harry had turned the words into a mantra, a reason, a cause, and most likely, an obsession.

“You’ve heard him say it?”

I nodded, “He heard it from Albus.”

Malfoy’s face closed, his line of sight turning inward. After a few moments, Malfoy’s mind returned to the room.

“Dursley was Confounded. Arabella Figg found him and contacted the Ministry. I left late last night for Surrey. We had Oblivators working around the neighborhood, finding any contacts with the Dursleys.

Dursley was raging by the time we managed to free him. He dislocated Flint’s shoulder, broke Macmillan’s jaw, before I had to incapacitate the Muggle again and extract the statement. When I freed him, he attacked me. I knocked him out cold and had the Ministry take him.”

I poured another cup of tea, my hands shaking slightly. Malfoy had not given me all the details about his scrap with Dudley Dursley, but it was not pertinent.

“What will happen to him?” I ventured.

“He’ll be Obliviated and relocated, most likely to America.”

“And the curses used on the Dursleys?”

“Splitting and lashing hexes. Powerful ones at that. Potter Apparated away to Merlin knows where, leaving us to clean up after him again. The hard part, though, is modifying Dursley’s memory. It is not going to be easy, and it is going to cost the Ministry a pretty Knut or two.”

I quirked my lips, moving to drink my tea. I knew the Dursleys only through Harry, and they had sounded like abusive, foul people. However, to wish them dead…it was too cruel.

Harry’s motives sounded too much like revenge, but his words to Dudley Dursley made me doubt that particular motive. Harry’s actions had been contradictory at times, senseless. But his need to find the Resurrection Stone, the books he had been reading before his commitment to St. Mungo’s, his need to find Ron and me, it did not exactly add up.

My own words about ‘correcting the timeline’ kept coming back to me. Perhaps that was exactly what Harry wanted to do. In the meantime, however, he wanted to eliminate factors in this timeline, to heal his own anguish, perhaps?

It has been people who have suffered the most or have caused the most damage, Miss Granger…Severus said knowingly.

I blinked. Aberforth had lost both siblings, Ariana years and years before, and Albus, whom Aberforth resented since his sister’s death, during my Sixth Year. McGonagall had lost Albus, her dear friend, and many of her students. I knew better than most that she had been carrying her grief as a burden ever since the Last Battle. He had murdered Trelawney simply because of her prophecy…a prophecy that had led us to the Death Room in the Department of Mysteries where Sirius died. George had never been whole since Fred was killed, but it was also the fact that Harry needed to find Ron…killing two birds with one stone, perhaps?

The centaurs had been in his way, and nothing more. As for the Dursleys…it was obvious. He had spared Dudley because Dudley had extended a hand of reconciliation at the very end.

Harry had always thought in terms of black and white. And in that sense, Harry had never matured properly.

“He’ll try for the Ministry next…” I whispered to myself.

“What was that, Granger?”

I mentally shook myself.

“Either the Ministry or me.”

Malfoy frowned, but ended up wincing, his facial bruises limiting his expressions.

“Why not Weasley?”

I rolled my eyes. “You have him under protection in another country, Malfoy. If Harry tried to Apparate or use a Portkey, he would be tracked because he would be trying to leave the country. If you used Muggle means, it would be the same. Surely your department is in contact with the Muggle authorities?”

“Of course, I’m not stupid, Granger.”

I sighed, “You’ve just had too much brandy too quickly then?”

Malfoy did not answer, but eyed the bottle by my left hand. With another sigh, I pushed the bottle towards him across the table, and he smiled…his teeth stained with blood.

“Go on then, drink away your pains and troubles, I know I’ll not get anything useful out of you for now,” I said resignedly.

Malfoy took the bottle and tipped it back, taking a large gulp.

“You’re going to regret it in the morning, if not sooner,” I mumbled, finishing my tea.

“As I am technically off-duty, I really don’t care, Granger,” he said softly, drawing his wand…Severus’ wand…and cast another charm I was unfamiliar with at his right eye. The swelling went down, but left behind a bruise along his brow and blood in his silver eye.

Cocking his head slightly, he nodded to me and rose from his chair. Setting his bottle of brandy on the arm of the couch, he shrugged out of his blazer, throwing it across the room toward the bathroom. He stretched before the windows like a man having woken from a twenty year nap. Then, Malfoy went to the gramophone, making a distasteful noise in the back of his throat and took the record off the turntable, hastily sliding it back into the sleeve.

Crouching down to look at the record rack he pulled out an album and proceeded to put it on, gently lowering the needle. The first sound of a muted drum made Malfoy sigh and step back, bending to grab his brandy.

“I wish I were home…” he sighed, swaying slightly as if to dance before falling back into the couch. “I wish I had this record at home…” he continued before up-ending the bottle.

I knew the song, it was not my favorite, but I knew it…David Bowie’s ‘Five Years.’ Malfoy hummed along, resting his head on the back of the couch, eyes closed. I had half a mind to ask how he knew the Muggle song, but he was too far removed from the moment. I did not want to bother him.

He has seen too much for one man…Severus said softly, his tone almost pitying.

‘Soul Love’ began and Malfoy smiled, moving his lips along with the words.

I did not pity him. All things considering, Malfoy had made a life for himself, and he was intelligent, resourceful, manipulative, and strong. Most people we went to school with were not half of those things.

I watched him as he drank again, some of the amber liquid sloshing down his chin. ‘Moonage Daydream’ began, and this time Malfoy was singing softly. At that point, I stood, and quietly went into the bathroom. By the time I returned to the parlor, Malfoy was singing the chorus in a deeper voice than David Bowie, but was, surprisingly on key. However, I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

Moving to the bookshelves, I scanned the titles. Most of the titles were Muggle novels, but there were a few titles that were not. I was slightly disappointed as I looked around the parlor, ignoring Malfoy’s singing the best I could. Happily I spotted my coat in a heap by the door leading from the room and into the castle. I had put my Beedle the Bard somewhere in the pocket, as well as ‘Dark Shaman of the Amazonian Basin.’

Soon, I curled up on Severus’ bed with the latter book, trying not to think of the sealed book that was also in my pocket. I had shut and cast a Silencing Charm on the door, effectively shutting out Malfoy’s voice, which was becoming more and more ragged as the record played on.

The snow was still coming down outside the window, but I would glance up at the change of light from time to time to see sun streaming through the clouds. I tried not to think about the Dursleys or Harry as I read, I had thought as much as I could without tiring myself. I put off trails of thought for later, when I felt stronger, when I had more information.

The only conclusion that I could manage was that Harry would try to infiltrate the Ministry. To attempt to correct the time line, he would go for my area of the Department of Mysteries by which he would need me. I stopped my thoughts there. I was safe for the time being, although the officer assigned to work with me as well as protect me was getting pissed in the next room…

I continued reading, or tried to, my eye lids growing heavier with each word. Is was not long until I was curled up, my legs tucked in my skirt and the comforter pulled to cover the upper half of my body.





I slept for a few hours when I awoke suddenly, unable to explain why. It was just getting dark outside the windows. I stretched, needing to use the bathroom as well as eat again for my stomach growled so loudly that it actually hurt.

Rising from the bed, I slipped my wand from my sleeve and lit the candles in the wall sconces and removed the Charm from the door. I moved quickly from the bedroom to the bathroom, my urge to use the facilities overcoming my desire to engage Malfoy. When I left the bathroom, I realized that only the fireplace lit the room, and I flicked my wand again, lighting the room a bit more with candles. The record had restarted, but the volume had been lowered to a mere whisper of music. I assumed Malfoy was sleeping on the couch, but as I moved across the room I found that I was only half right.

Malfoy was face down on the floor…sleeping. I rolled my eyes, noting the empty brandy bottle and ignoring Severus’ exasperated words in my head. I had to move Malfoy…I most certainly did not want him aspirating his own vomit. If I just rolled him onto his side, I would feel a bit better. I intended on leaving him on the floor, he had put himself in this situation, after all.

Moving to his left side, I knelt, but recoiled at the smell of alcohol roiling off him in disgusting waves. I held my breath as I nudge at him to see if he would move on his own accord. My nudge only elicited a soft sigh. I turned my head to take in another fresh breath of air.

Nudging him a bit harder, Malfoy groaned slightly, and turned his face toward me. The bruising discolored his skin, but the swelling was nearly gone. Still, he looked awful.

I nudged again, and Malfoy snored. I was not amused.

Finally, I prepared myself to roll him onto his side, grasping his arm to push with all I had. I had him turned almost half way, when three things happened almost simultaneously.

First, Malfoy opened his eyes with a snap. Second, his body twisted faster than I could react and I was pulled down to the floor, my chest against his… And third, Malfoy was kissing me while I screamed in shock against his lips.

I had not had two male best friends without knowing how amorous they could become when drunk. The intoxicated do not discriminate, I learned very early. This was one reason why I did not want Malfoy drinking near me. But I had to be the mindful one, as always, exposing myself to this situation.

The kiss was chaste on my part, but I could feel Malfoy’s tongue seeking access to my mouth. He held me by the arms none too gently, his eyes closed, a hum coming up from his chest. Luckily, he remember he had to breathe and broke this kiss. I tried to squirm away, but Malfoy held me fast. I opened my mouth to scream at him, plead with him to let me go…and that had been my mistake.

Malfoy’s lips found mine again, and this time it was not a chaste kiss. He tasted like blood and brandy, and it was not pleasant. His tongue tangled around mine, and his hands moved to cradle my head.

I panicked. The emotions I had felt the night Harry attacked me came crashing through me like a runaway train. I knew that Malfoy was not hurting me, he was not going to kill me, in fact, his kiss was gentle, yet passionate, and the way he held my face was tender. But I could not stop the emotions being sieved through my brain. I was rigid, but Malfoy continued, kissing my face and returning to my lips again. Tears stood in my eyes, and I shut them, only one tear escaping to fall from my eye to land on the collar of Malfoy’s rumpled shirt.

And as if there were no more painful emotions to push through that internal sieve, my panic dissolved, and I could feel again.

Although his hands were a bit rough, they were warm on my jaw and cheeks. I quickly adapted to the taste of his mouth and the strong push of his tongue dancing with my own. I hummed into the kiss, enjoying it.

It had been years since I had kissed someone, and I idly wondered why I had denied myself for so long. To be held, to be kissed, was a wonderful feeling. And, if it had to be Draco Malfoy to remind me, so be it…

I kissed him, I took the cue, and I kissed him. However, this action broke whatever spell had been created, and Malfoy stopped, his hands moving to my arms again, lifting me off his chest.

His pale brow furrowed as he looked up at me, and I knew that he had realized whom he had been kissing. The little dream was over. I wrenched away, sitting next to him as he lay on the floor.

“Granger…what is this?” he growled, sitting up, staring into the right side of my face.

“A mistake,” I whispered. I cleared my throat and climbed to my feet, looking anywhere else but Malfoy. “You fell asleep on the floor, I was about to roll you onto your side when you grabbed me…”

Malfoy groaned softly, holding his head in his hands. “I apologize, Granger. I didn’t hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” I managed, tears coming to my eyes again.

“I’m glad…” Malfoy whispered. “I will fetch a Sobering potion and then we should have dinner, yeah?”

I nodded, and made a hastily escape to the bedroom, closing the door behind me, falling back against it as tears fell in earnest.

I cried not because of all the emotions I had swept through in a matter of seconds. I did not cry because it had been Malfoy I had kissed. I cried because I had begun to enjoy the kiss, but knew that Malfoy would rather hex off his lips than kiss me because he wanted to. It was not as if I liked Malfoy…he was handsome, he was intelligent, but he was also cold and manipulative. No one wanted me before, and Malfoy certainly would not want me now. To him I was an asset as well as a liability. I was a witness and a victim, and my security was paramount. Malfoy did not want me, how could he? And I did not want him, did I?

You are, at the very least, interested…Severus stated.

I wiped my tears with the back of my long sleeve.

What did Albus say? ‘Pity those who live without love?’

I was below pity. I was merely a functioning mind, as I had always been to Ron, Harry, and now to Draco Malfoy and the Ministry.

Self-pity is even more reprehensible, Miss Granger.

I took a shaky breath and pushed off the door to move to the chest of drawers. Faintly from the dark wood, I could smell Severus. He had placed clothes in the drawers, he had lived in the room, and as leaned my chest against the drawer, looking up into the mirror, I could almost imagine seeing him standing behind me. In another time, Severus would have inhabited the same space, but he would not know me as I appeared at that moment.

My face reflected in the mirror was that of stranger. My eyes were red with crying, my face gaunt with sickness, my hair shorn short so that I looked like a boy and not a woman.

“Look at me, I cannot even manage to be pretty…” I whispered through my tears, staring at my full lips and my honey eyes.

I was not ‘pretty’ either, but did that mean I was not good enough to love of be loved?

I wiped at my eyes before resting my chin atop the chest of drawers, my mouth quirking as a swirl of black in honey made me pause.

Do not make the same mistakes I did, Hermione. Do not deny yourself the hope of love, even if it is a fleeting infatuation.

“I do not love Malfoy…” I whispered, staring into my own eyes and the murky swirl of black that moved like ink over water.

But you could, if you wanted. You can no longer be The Hermit, Hermione, be The Fool.

I wanted to scoff, but it came out as a long sigh.

“I have loved…love you…” I whispered to my reflection and the disconcerting swirl of black.

Which proves you really are The Fool, Miss Granger. What good is it to love a dead man?

I coughed a laugh. “None, I suppose.”

Correct. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, there is no need. Stop crying and put on a brave face. Malfoy feels just as awkward as you.

“I really am The Fool to feel for Malfoy.”

That remains to be seen. You doubt your feelings, I know. You wonder if you only feel this way because he has saved you, protected you. It is a justified concern, but not one to keep you from hoping.

“Hope cannot always be harmless, Severus,” I sighed, my tears passing.

You are intelligent enough to know when to take care, Miss Granger…

I smirked into the mirror, watching as the swirl of black in my eyes faded and only my eyes remained. I stepped back from the chest of drawers to fall back to the foot of the bed, sitting with a sigh, my hands in my lap, my eyes fixed on the floor.

Had I shut myself away for so long that I had forgotten how to feel?

A knock on the door startled me to my feet, and as the door opened slowly, I forced myself to remember to breathe.

Malfoy’s hair had been combed, his clothes changed, and I could smell the traces of a bath and a Sobering Potion. As he pushed the door open, I tried not to grimace or smile. He conveyed that dinner has been set out, that it was late, and we should eat.

I agreed.

Within a few moments, we sat at the small table in the parlour, eating in silence. It was a simple meal of baked chicken, boiled, and spiced potatoes and vegetables, simple, yet delicious to me as I had been quite hungry.

Malfoy ate slowly, and I watched how his fingers curled about his fork and knife as he sliced a piece of chicken and raised it to his mouth. His battered face seemed even better than before, all of the swelling gone and only a few scratched and bruises remaining around his right eye. He ate with an air of delicacy, renewing a thought I had had during out school years…he had been schooled in manners, or at least, table manners.

I watched him dab his lips, one corner of which still a little red from his fight with Dudley Dursley, and blink as he met my eyes.

“We are returning to the Manor tomorrow,” he stated.

I averted my eyes to my own plate and stabbed at a piece of potato, nodding.

I could feel him watching me as I began eating again. It was unnerving. His silver eyes watching me over his goblet of pumpkin juice seemed almost unfair to my passive observation of his eating habits. With one more bite of chicken, I no longer felt like eating, and I set my knife and fork down, moving to dab my lips with the napkin in my lap.

“I apologize, Granger. I let my anger take hold earlier. I should not have let myself…” he trailed, setting his goblet down to lean back into his chair.

I kept dabbing my lips, thinking of nothing else to do, formulating what to say in response. Slowly I placed my napkin next to my plate and raised my eyes to gaze at his chin, too unsettled to look into those eyes again.

“Apology accepted, Malfoy, let’s just put it behind us. There are more important things to think about now.”

My words sounded artificial, but it conveyed a small, honest wish.

Malfoy’s mouth opened as if to speak, but he shut it again, moving to grasp his goblet again, lifting the rim to his lips. He drank deeply, uncharacteristically wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

“We’ll have to go through the village again, we cannot Apparate from the gates.”

I frowned and met his eyes, finally.

“How were you able to…” I started.

“To Apparate from the Forest here? The Forest is included in the enchantments that now protect Hogwarts. Only Hogwarts staff and the Ministry can Apparate on these grounds.”

I nodded. The protections had changed for I had been able to Apparate from outside the wards of the cottage, I doubted I could do it at that moment.

“After a bit of breakfast, pack your things, we will leave before midday.”

Malfoy gently tossed his napkin to the table and rose, moving past me to the door that led out into the castle. I did not turn as I heard the door snap shut, indicating he had left Severus’ chambers. I sighed, looking at his empty plate. He was going to miss dessert.

I turned my eyes to the fire, scowling. The idea of leaving the castle frightened me. In fact, the idea of being out in the open, frightened me. I had been healed, but I will unconfident in my magical ability. Would I be able to fight if I needed to? I did not know. All I did know was that I would try.

It was not like fighting Death Eaters or Giants or Dementors, I would be fighting Harry. And that fact was what had me uneasy. Harry had been raised to fight, and with the Elder Wand, a fight with him would be quite one-sided.

I clutched my wand as it lay against my right forearm, feeling a tinge of power against my skin. Bellatrix’s walnut wand…I wondered idly if it would protect me if I had to face Harry again. It had been the wand that killed Sirius Black, it had been the wand that had made the Longbottoms insane, it had been the wand that had siphoned so much insane evil, that I wondered if it were going to serve me this time around…me, its new master.





The enchantments at Hogwarts’ gates still made me feel a little light headed as Malfoy and I passed out into the lane. Two different men stood guard and Malfoy nodded to them before pulling up the hood of his cloak. I had been made to conceal my face even before leaving the castle. Luckily, with my renewed health, I was able to Transfigure my cloak beautifully, resembling that same bit of wand-work Malfoy had performed on the old coat while we had been in the Forest. Soft black furred lined the edge of the hood, but the inside as well, keeping my shorn head a bit warmer than before.

Malfoy held my hand again as we walked quickly down the lane towards Hogsmeade. The warmth of his large hand over mine made my insides prickle, but I did not pull away or try to think too much of the meaning of his hand over mine. No matter what Severus had said in my mind, I would not let my hopes grow beyond the facts of the situation. I had always been more of a pessimist.

We did not speak as we walked along the High Street, and again, I only saw a handful of people out on the snowy street. The only person I recognized being Madam Rosmerta who was angrily moving snow from the entrance of her establishment with her wand. I bit my lip, hoping Malfoy did not see her or vice versa. I did not know how the older woman felt about the man charged to protect me after he had kept her under an Imperius during Sixth Year.

As we moved from the village to the lane leading out into the countryside, I managed to spot the Constable placed along the tree line just outside the village, marking a halfway point between the village and the Shack. Malfoy ignored the Constable and moved forward without a pause. The Shrieking Shack came into view, slightly down the hillside from the lane. I could not help but feel hesitant about Apparating again after my several mishaps in the weeks before.

However, before we could move off the lane to pass to the Apparation point, Malfoy froze, and I collided against his back, about to open my mouth to speak. Malfoy’s hand slipped from my to the front of his cloak, his wand slipping into his hand with an audible ‘whish.’ His left hand moved to push me flush against his back, his fingers resting on my hip.

I frowned…and then grunted as suddenly Malfoy turned, grabbed me, and we were flying through the air, his body landing above mine. I screamed softly as a stump situated only two feet from where we were standing exploded sending rotten wood, clumps of dirt, and snow raining down upon Malfoy’s back.

I began coughing, the air retuning to my lungs, but I did not have time to think as Malfoy jerked me to my feet.

“Move!” he hissed, pushing me up a low bank and into the trees across from the Shrieking Shack.

I obeyed as the nearest tree to me cracked and splintered. I barely turned my face away in time so that those splinters did not fly into my face.

Malfoy was growling as we ran haphazardly through the trees and further away from the lane. With a rough tug, Malfoy threw me behind a scattering of large rocks. I winced as my back slammed into the largest boulder. Malfoy rolled over the snowy ground to land beside me, his mouth open in a pant, his eyes narrowed. He clutched Tom Riddle’s wand tight in his fist, the knuckles white.

Moving only slightly, I peered around the boulder to see that the roof of the Shrieking Shack was visible through the trees. We were only perhaps a hundred metres from the lane, give or take.

The whistle of another spell made me stiffen as a hex slammed into the other side of the boulder, cracking it down the middle sending shards of rock into the air. I gasped as Malfoy moved to shield me, the sounds of rock striking his back making me clench my teeth. Malfoy did not make a noise at the impact, and quickly pulled away, looking into my face as if assessing my current state.

“Change your cloak, he can see us…” Malfoy whispered in a rush, his breath hot against my face.

I nodded, slipping my walnut wand from the sleeve of my jumper, Transfiguring my cloak again so that it was no longer black, but white as the snow and the tree trunks around us. Malfoy did the same, blending in with the landscape far better that I, his pale skin and hair helping his camouflage.

“Can we Apparate from here?” I whispered as another hex splintered a tree a few metres before the boulder.

“The edge of the barrier is just beyond Potter…” Malfoy growled.

So it was Harry…

“Portkey?” I suggested.

“No…not to the Manor.”

“But somewhere else?”

Malfoy blinked at me, a hand digging into his cloak. Pulling out a large folded piece of parchment he moved his wand over the paper.

“Portus!” he hissed.

The parchment glowed for a split-second, but I knew the Charm had not worked. Malfoy tried twice more before growling.

Blocked, Miss Granger, Potter has covered all your exits…I heard Severus hiss.

“There should be a limit to the range of the barrier, maybe if we tried another direction…” I began.

“Perhaps, but at the moment we are pinned down.”

“The Constable down the lane?” I asked, turning my face in the direction of Hogsmeade.

Another spell slammed into the boulder that shielded us, fracturing another large portion of stone. I clenched my teeth, my frustration beginning to turn to anger.

Malfoy moved slightly to peer around the rock, and I could see his eyes widen slightly as if trying to see beyond some invisible barrier.

Another spell…and I found myself sliding along the rough, snowy ground of the wooded copse, a root digging into my lower back. Malfoy leaned over me, pressing me down. We were not exposed behind a natural row of smaller boulders, the larger one having been blasted to rubble.

“Listen to me carefully, Granger. You need to go to the Manor, now! I will draw Potter’s fire. You need to run down the hillside to the Shack—past the dead birch tree—you must Apparate from there! Picture the gates…the gates!” Malfoy hissed, his face only two inches from mine.

I shook my head, desperately. “No, not without you, Malfoy! I haven’t tried Apparating since…” I sobbed, somewhat embarrassed.

His face reddened, and I knew it was out of anger. “You must, Granger! If Potter gets you, it is all over!”

I closed my eyes and swallowed, licking my lips.

“I’ll send help, Malfoy,” I whispered.

His face softened slightly, the angry red draining away. “Run as fast as you can—try to Disillusion yourself, if you can… Think of the gates!”

I nodded, gazing up into his face, inhaling the scent of his breath…coffee and buttered toast.

“Be careful?” I whispered, the slight turn at the end of my words making it seem I was speaking with a form of sarcasm.

Malfoy smirked and I felt my heart flutter strangely. “I’m a professional, Granger…”

And then, I did something totally unlike me…I kissed him. I knew it was because of the situation, adrenaline pumping, our lives in danger, amongst other things, but I kissed him. It was a short kiss on his lips, chaste, for the most part, but it was the only way I could think to react when he had smirked and said what he had…so much like a scoundrel…

His eyes widened, and his hand moved to my right shoulder, squeezing slightly. When I let my head fall back into the snow, I saw a wide gamut of emotions flicker across his face until his expression settled on seriousness again.

“Go, as soon as I’m away…go…” he whispered with a growl. “Don’t stop, don’t look back no matter what you hear…just go, understand?”

My heart clenched, but I nodded. “Yes…”

I was surprised as Malfoy’s face softened and that scoundrel-like smirk returned. “Wish me luck.”

And suddenly he was gone, the lingering warmth of his body gone…

I blinked once and took a deep breath, rolling on the snowy ground so that I was on my knees. With another breath I tapped my wand on top my head, the hood having fallen away. A cold trickle passed through me and I knew that I successfully Disillusioned myself. Another breath, and I was on my feet. I touched a tree trunk to orient myself and soon I was moving.

Blasting curses whizzed through the trees, volley after volley, but they were not aimed at me, but twenty metres to my right. I did not look, I did not want to see, all I could do was run.

I had never been very physically fit, so I knew I was moving under the influence of adrenaline, my legs pumping as I came to the tree line. I slid down the bank and into the lane. I did not look…the Shrieking Shack the only thing I could focus upon.

I could smell ozone over the cold damp of snow and trees, and all I could feel was the pounding of my heart and the burning of my lungs.

I streaked across the lane down the path to the Shack, and that was when I saw him…

Harry Potter stood in my periphery vision just at the far side of the lane, close to the path. I let myself take in his dark form, dressed in an indistinct black cloak, the hood pushed back to reveal long, wild black hair. His face was contorted in a sneer worthy of Sirius Black, his eyes almost a luminescent green in the overcast light of the day, the glasses I had come to know gone. In his right hand was the Elder Wand, and red flashes of curses flying from the end without being vocally incanted. The scar on his forehead was an angry purple, and bruises marked his face, and the backside of his right hand.

I let that image burn into my mind for only a moment as I ran.

I slipped on the path, but I was coming nearer and nearer to the dead birch tree and the gray wooden siding of the Shack. I grasped my wand tighter, praying to whatever god who would listen that I somehow survive the day.

“Hermione!”

I did not stop although the sound of my name made my heart skip of beat.

“Her-mi-o-neeeee!”

Harry screamed my name, his voice taking on a whine at the last syllable. The power of his voice slammed into my back making me stumble across the Apparition barrier so that I rolled into the snow…just in time to avoid being hit by a hex, which flew just over me and tore into the side of the Shack beyond me, debris falling to the ground.

I rolled to my feet, feeling that when I crossed the barrier the Disillusionment had been dispelled. Harry could see me, I could see me…

I turned to face Harry, preparing myself mentally to Apparate.

Harry took a few steps toward me, his face moving from an expression of anger to relief and back again. However, those expressions were not familiar to me, for the madness contained in Harry’s face distorted him in my eyes.

“You!” he screamed in a rasp, his eyes glowing a terrible shade of green.

I took a step back, suddenly losing my focus.

Malfoy Manor…I had to think of the muddy lane and the gates…the gates of Malfoy Manor…the gates of Malfoy Manor…

Harry’s Elder Wand raised, and I knew that I would either have to Apparate in that moment or possibly be killed…

The gates of Malfoy Manor…

“Sectum…” Harry began, and I stiffened.

“Go!” another voice roared…roared so loudly that I thought I felt the ground shake.

Harry froze, his eyes widening, beginning to turn toward the source of the terrible roar. However, before Harry could point his wand, a flash of white streaked into view, and I screamed as Harry was picked up from the ground, flying high into the air so that his body flailed like a doll’s in the grey sky.

The gates of Malfoy Manor…

Go, Hermione, go! Severus roared in my head.

I held my wand against my chest and the world whirled around me.


TBC.