Chapter Text
"Once upon a time in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was spoiled, selfish, and unkind. But then, one winter’s night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away. But she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within. And when he dismissed her again, the old woman’s ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress. The prince tried to apologize, but it was too late. For she had seen that there was no love in his heart. And as punishment, she transformed him into a hideous beast and placed a powerful spell on the castle and all who lived there. Ashamed of his monstrous form, the beast concealed himself inside his castle with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom until his 21st year. If he could learn to love another, and earn her love in return, by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn… to love a beast?"
***
[Three days after the Battle of Hogwarts]
{Tuesday, May 5th, 1998}
Bellatrix didn’t know how she’d gotten to where she was. Or why her body hurt so badly, or why it was so difficult to walk and breathe. In one hand, she held a silver rose. Her other hand, of which her fingers were gnarled and throbbing, held the top of a wooden staff. Snow fell from the sky in nearly blinding sheets of white and she had to use ‘protego’ just to manage through the storm. Somehow she’d ended up back at Malfoy Manor. Most peculiar… As she had been battling Molly Weasley only moments ago. The damn redheaded fool with her entitled smile! Bellatrix shuttered against a gust of icy wind as she lifted a serpent-headed knocker and banged it loudly against the door. The storm deepened and she hissed through her teeth as she rasped her fist on the wood. Finally, the door cracked open.
Standing in front of her was a hauntingly familiar face. A tall, handsome boy towered over her with a faraway look in his silver eyes. His white hair draped over his brow line and only deepened the premature lines on his face. He stared right through her as if he didn’t know her- even though she was someone he had interacted with all his life in one way or another. Bella shifted uncomfortably as her bones ached from cold. She motioned toward him to let her in, but he made no move to do so.
“Draco! Stand aside.”
“I will not,” he replied in a slightly stunned voice as his father’s cocky smile graced his face. “Allow a beggar woman into Malfoy Manor?”
“Beggar?!” Bellatrix screeched as her breath rattled in her chest. “Where is Cissy? Where’s your mother?” She demanded- still furious with her sister for having lied to The Dark Lord about Harry Potter. I’ll make her pay for her treachery yet! Just wait! “I’ll have her know right away that you spoke to me with such negative regard…”
“No beggars allowed.” Draco went to close the door, but Bella dropped her staff and caught his arm with her hand. She stared at him with deranged, wild, crazy eyes as she bared her gnarly, cracked teeth at him. She wanted to hurt him. To use Crucio or Sectumsempra or another spell that would potentially bring him harm. After all he had done! Failing to kill Dumbledore, not helping me when we were attacked here a few weeks ago, just being a miserable disappointment overall…
But the words that Bella wanted to say would not come. Her memories faltered. Her mind seemed to reel. Suddenly, she truly didn’t remember anything. Not her name or where she’d come from, how she got here, or how she knew this tragic, arrogant, hateful boy. Her pupils widened as she dug her fingernails into his skin. Draco tried to pull his arm out of her grasp, but she only tightened her grip. Something pulled from deep inside of her and she suddenly felt compelled to speak words she didn’t understand.
“Please, my prince, may I seek shelter from the storm?” The voice that came from her lips did not belong to her. She moved her other hand involuntarily and offered him the silver rose. “I have not much gold, but perhaps this? A gift?”
“A gift?!” Draco sneered as he yanked his hand away. The jolt from his grasp unbalanced her and Bella spilled onto the slick, icy steps at his feet. She felt something unfamiliar welling inside of her. In place of her own manic anger, there was something else. Something deeper. She lifted her head to him and smiled in a sad kind of way.
“A prince who does not help those less fortunate than him is no prince. He is a monster. A wretch. A… a beast.”
“Leave,” Draco said coldly as he turned on his heels. “And do not come back to the manor again.”
“Wait, my prince!” she cried but he was already nearly closing the door. Her hand, no longer gnarled or ancient, reached out and grasped his ankle. Draco spun to kick her away and froze in his tracks. Lying on the Manor’s steps was a beautiful, if not wicked looking woman, with long, dark, curly hair and wide brown eyes. She had ashen skin and pale lips with soft scars across her flesh and odd tattoos scrawled across her body. The prince fell to his knees in awe of her- this woman who was lovely, dark, and terrifying. For now she was a nearly familiar presence where a stranger just had stood. Tears sprang from his eyes as he groveled before her.
“My lady, forgive me. I-I was wrong not to show you grace.”
“Grace?!” Bella shrieked as she pulled to her feet and drew herself up to her full height. From inside her shawl, she drew a twisted, branch-like wand and pointed it at him. “Grace you have been given and grace you have denied. And now there shall be none of it for you, my prince,” she sneered. “For beauty, you see, and kindness do not come from one’s appearance. It resides within. There is a darkness in you, Draco Malfoy. A sinister flame that will be stoked until it rages into an inferno… or a fire so small that a candle wick could hold it. Your fate now lies outside your own hands.”
“Wh-What do you mean?” the boy whimpered as he shakily got to his feet. Just then, two more people entered the room. One was a man, tall and gaunt, with white hair and pale eyes. The other was a small-framed woman with long, blonde hair and a familiar face. Bellatrix paid them no mind, lost in her anger at the prince’s piousness. She flicked her wrist at him.
“From this day, henceforth, you shall be Draco no longer. But the beast that you are inside.” Something unspeakably hot burned the prince from the inside out. He felt as if his bones were snapping underneath his skin. He crashed to the floor, howling in anguish as his mother and father rushed to his side. He started clawing wildly at his arms and scratched away his flesh to reveal shining snake scales. Narcissa screamed in horror as she saw him tearing away ribbons of his skin to unearth the unholy plating underneath. She stared up at the witch with tears rolling down her face.
“Please! Please, I beg of you… mercy. Mercy for my only son!”
“Mercy?” echoed Bellatrix as she shifted her wand over to Narcissa. “I can show you mercy. More grace than your spawn has ever shown anyone. May you forget he is yours at all.” A hazy look entered Narcissa’s pale blue eyes. Lucius was right behind her- his silvery gaze distant and lost. They both sat there, on their knees, stunned and silent as Draco screamed in pain. Bellatrix watched with an amused look on her face as the human flesh was torn away.
“What have you done to me? What have you done!” Draco looked down at his hands. Or… what had once been his hands. Now his body was plated in serpent scales and from his nailbeds grew long, obsidian claws. He ran those unfamiliar paws over his head and gasped when he felt nothing but smooth laminae on the pads of his cool, rough fingers. He touched his mouth and felt a rough lip and fang teeth. He staggered backwards on his hands and knees as Bella approached him again, her wand firmly held in her grasp. She kicked the silver rose over to him and Draco took it with trembling, bloodied hands.
“It was enchanted, stupid boy,” she told him harshly. “Had you only accepted it- it would have granted your heart’s desire. Now it is a curse. A reminder. It will bloom constantly until your twenty-first birthday. On that day, if you have not given your heart to someone else- and have them give it in return… then the curse will hold forever. And you shall always be the beast, and all those you govern shall suffer. Your blood is cursed blood.” The younger, more beautiful Bellatrix was gone. She was once more an old hag with a bent back, gnarled fingers, and trembling breath. Her staff flew back into her hand as she leaned in very close to his face and her hot, unpleasant breath scorched his scaly flesh. She held his silver eyes with a steady smile. “Now, Draco,” she whispered. “They will see you as you truly are.”
“Wait! Wait!” The prince tried to scramble to his feet but slipped in the shredded remains of his former self. He watched, helpless, as she turned away from him and closed the door. As soon as the latch slid back into place, an eerie gray smoke rolled through the castle like thunder. Draco’s eyes stretched wide in horror as he saw his mother and father dissolve into the mist- leaving behind only a candelabra and a feather duster. The force of the spell sent him reeling against the cold, stone floor as darkness overtook him.
***
As she walked back through the snow, Bellatrix began to fade. Step by step, she was less and less of a tangible thing and more and more just a translucent figure amongst the winter-kissed briars. And then, her staff and wand fell into the glittery sheets of white and she was nothing. Nothing at all. The shard of Bellatrix’ spirit that was trapped inside the storybook manifested itself inside the palm of the serpent prince- taking the shape of a black handled mirror. The world outside them shifted. Land pulled, tugged, warped, and groaned. Buildings moved and landscapes rearranged.
Malfoy Manor stood dark, stoic, and silent somewhere deep in the Forbidden Forest- lodged there by dark magic unknowingly of Bellatrix’s design. Dozens of souls who didn’t usually reside inside the halls of Lucius and Narcissa would soon wake to find themselves imprisoned by Bella’s curse. And as the days and weeks and months drew on, slowly- bit by bit- they would begin to forget who they truly were. Their names, their houses, and their identities would all fall to ruin. In a year’s time, they wouldn’t remember how they’d come to be what they were; not even Draco Malfoy. From the moment those silver serpent eyes opened, he would be only the Prince of the Castle. The Beast. The Wretch…
The Snake.
Notes:
{Intro quoted from the beginning of the 1991 version of Beauty and the Beast.}
Welcome to the Bookworm and the Snake!
Chapter 2: The Hogwarts Rescue Brigade
Summary:
{Charlie Weasley}
The Hogwarts Rescue Brigade (HRB) has a meeting in late December to review their options for what to do next in search of their missing family.
Later in May of the next year, a tracking potion is finally matured and completed successfully. Charlie sends his loyal owl, Archimedes, out on the quest of delivering a letter to the missing witches and wizards... Unaware that the answer to their disappearance is right under his nose.
Notes:
Woohoo! Chapter two takes place in the *real* world- not inside 'Beauty and the Beast'. The HRB consists of a lot of familiar people that will play much larger roles in this story than they did in the books. It's an absolute BLAST to be able to intertwine characters that didn't even interact in the novels. This team is like an off-brand Avengers and I'm LIVING for it. Who doesn't love Charlie Weasley?...
Y'all drink some water and get ready for the magic in chapter three. Enjoy your journey to the stars! <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Three years later…
{Friday, December 28th, 2001}
Cold wind whipped at Charlie’s face as he made his way across a barren field. He glanced up at the graying sky as it began to snow and he shook his head. He pulled his dragonskin gloves out of the pocket of his coat and kept on across the endless field. He followed a footworn path out of the wasteland where Hogsmeade Village had once stood. He looked around in every direction, turned on his heels, and disappeared with a loud ‘crack’. He appeared again inside his childhood living room and felt instantly comforted by the warmth of familiar, tangible things. He removed his dragonskin gloves and laid them on the coffee table as he turned to face the others in the room.
“Thank you, everyone, for agreeing to meet me here on such short notice…” In front of him were over a dozen people from countless walks of life. There were wizards from Durmstrang Institute, witches from Beauxbatons, and countless others. One woman, dressed heavily in thick fur coats, towered over everyone else in the room and her hands trembled as she sipped from a teacup that looked nearly microscopic in her giant hands. Charlie met the gaze of a middle-aged man with long, white hair and a distant look in his dreamy eyes.
“Any news from our correspondents, Xenophilius?” he asked him as he placed his chilly hands closer to the fire that was burning brightly in the hearth. Xenophilius sighed and shook his head.
“No, nothing.”
“Madam Maxime?” he addressed the large woman and she gave him a disheartened look.
“No, nothing,” she told him in a heavy, musky voice that was laced in a French accent.
“Has there been any word from anyone?!” Charlie demanded and a small hand lifted into the air. From the back of the crowd came a beautiful woman with flowing silver hair. Charlie instantly smiled when he was greeted by his greatest ally in their efforts- Apolline Delacour. He wrapped his arms around the half-Veela as she hugged him tightly.
“From Ilvermorny…” She reached inside her velvety green robes and pulled out a letter. She placed it in Charlie’s hands and he read over it with a hunger blazing in his amber eyes.
“This is… wonderful!” Charlie laughed as he turned to address the others in the room. “They’ve sent us a list of spells we can use to try and find them!”
“Every spell they’ve ever given us has been unfruitful, Charlie,” this was from an old woman dressed in deep, burgundy colored clothing. She peered at him through thick-framed bifocals. “Every damn thing we have ever tried has failed!”
“We cannot give up hope, Augusta!” Maxime nearly sobbed over her tea. “We will find them!”
“It still doesn’t make any sense… we’ve been looking and looking and looking for years. And it’s gone- all gone. The school, the grounds, the Forbidden Forest, Hogsmeade, and…”
“Malfoy Manor,” Charlie interrupted Xenophilius with a grave nod of his head. “But entire properties don’t just up and vanish. People don’t just disappear.”
“If my Luna could have come home to me, she would have by now!” he wailed and a woman next to him- Arabella Figg- patted his shoulder comfortingly.
“I’m not giving up on Harry,” said a voice from the back. The speaker pushed through the crowd and everyone around the room silenced. He was a large, burly man with a mop of shaggy blond hair and determined blue eyes. He held Charlie’s gaze evenly. “I’m not giving up on my cousin.”
“I know you’re not, Dudley,” the Weasley said with a smile. This was his second greatest ally in the search to find their lost family. He extended the letter and Dudley took it from him. He turned to face the eager crowd as he cleared his throat to read.
“Dear Mister and Missus Delacour, we, of course, have heard all about the peculiar disappearance of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as well as the mysterious vanishment of anyone on the grounds. Our deepest apologies for your loss. We hope the following hexes, charms, or spells may assist in your search. Good luck to you… and then it’s a list of things I don’t understand.”
“Well that’s because you’re a muggle,” Charlie teased as he took back the letter. He lifted his head and saw the looks of doubt on many of their faces. Charlie sighed and ran a hand through his thick, red hair. “They wouldn’t give up on us! My entire bloody family is out there somewhere and I’m going to find them. I don’t need your help to do so… but I’d like to have it.”
Maxime nodded first and slowly, everyone else did too.
“So what’s our first move, Charlie?” Miss Figg asked as she dabbed at the end of her nose with a handkerchief.
“Some of these spells are complex. I’ll need a lot of different ingredients…” He tapped the paper with his wand. “Geminio.” The letter duplicated in Charlie’s hands and he began to pass them around the room. “Take a few copies! Don’t be afraid to get extras of the things on here. It’s going to take a lot of practice.”
“What can I do to help, Charlie?” Dudley asked as the Weasley tapped the paper again and its feverish duplicating ceased. Brown eyes met blue hues and Charlie nodded to him.
“Keep up the morale, Dudders, m’boy. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”
…
{Tuesday, May 7th, 2002}
“Are you sure about this?” Augusta murmured as Charlie finished writing the letter he was planning to send off. He read over it again, ignoring her nervous fidgeting as the ink dried on the paper.
Hello to anyone whom this might reach. My name is Charles Weasley and I am looking for my family. Three years ago, an entire school of people vanished without warning. We are trying to find them. We won’t give up. Please… if you’re out there, let us know. Somehow. Some way. We are waiting for you.
He let her read it and she nodded stiffly. “It sounds good, but Charlie…”
Still ignoring her, he took the letter back, rolled the paper up into a tiny scroll, and dunked it into a bottle of absolutely disgusting smelling orange liquid. He glanced down at the watch on his wrist as Augusta crossed the room and placed a gnarled, veiny hand on his shoulder.
“Charlie…”
“Augusta, if you’re trying to talk me out of this, just give it a rest. I know it seems complicated, but the professors at Ilvermorny swear by this spell…”
“And they swore by the other eighteen we tried as well!” she argued sharply. Charlie didn’t answer her- he just kept his eyes locked on the hands inside his watch as they ticked by. Wait exactly one minute, then remove the contents from the potion. 57, 58, 59, 60… He plucked the letter from inside the vial- amazed that all of the orange liquid had soaked into the parchment- but left it entirely untouched and looking as it had when he submerged it. “And everyone knows that Ilvermorny is the least academically gifted of all the magical schools, Charlie,” Augusta kept right on as if she hadn’t even heard him or noticed his silent protests. He shifted around the room and headed over to a large enclosure by the door where a single gray barn owl was asleep upon a branch.
“Wake up, Archimedes. Time for an adventure.” The owl opened first one eye, then the other. It stared at the paper in Charlie’s hand for a moment and blinked heavily. It let out a soft hoot then turned its head the other way. “Archimedes Allan Weasley!” Charlie snapped. At the use of its full name, the owl turned to face him again with an even more unsavory expression on its face. “Don’t you look at me like that,” he scolded and it just inched a little closer to the far side of its enclosure. Charlie sighed and placed a hand on his hips in exasperation. “Honestly, Archimedes! If you do this for me, as soon as you get back, I’ll… I’ll feed you fresh rats for the next month.” That seemed to catch the owl’s interest and it perked right up. “I’ll catch them myself. I’ll give them to you while they’re still warm…”
“Are you reasoning with an owl?” Augusta seemed absolutely aghast. She threw her hands up in the air and turned away from the scene in front of her. “Merlin, help us all if this is the man we’ve put our faith in.”
“There’s no harm in being kind to animals,” Charlie called over his shoulder, smiling as Archimedes finally conceded and scuttled off the branch into his master’s open palm. Charlie made a kissy face at the bird and it knocked its beak against his lips. “And besides, he loves fresh rats. If he’d been in the house with Scabbers- Peter Pettigrew would have been dead years ago.”
“Peter Pettigrew,” spat Augusta as she turned back around just in time to see Charlie placing the rolled up piece of parchment in Archimedes’ ready claw. Whatever else she was going to say was lost as Charlie gave the bird’s beak a boop with his nose.
“Now Archimedes, listen carefully to me. This letter is enchanted. It demands to be taken to wherever our missing family is. I don’t know where that is going to force you to go, or where it will take you to… but it might be sometime before we see each other again. Please, be careful. You’re my dearest friend you know.” The owl chirred and rubbed his head against Charlie’s own. Then Archimedes leaped from his palm and spread his beautiful wings. He hooted over his shoulder at Charlie as he soared through the open window and off into the night.
Charlie exhaled all the air in his lungs and nodded his head. “Come on, Augusta. There’s nothing we can do now but wait. Thank you for agreeing to stay with me for a few days… I hate being here by myself.”
Something uncharacteristically soft spread across the old woman’s face. She patted Charlie’s shoulder gently and offered him a small, sad smile. “The Burrow is your family’s home… it must be horrible without your family in it.”
Charlie nodded as the words stuck in his throat. He peered across the living room at the Weasley Family Clock that was still stuck up on the wall. All of the golden hands were doing what they had been doing since that fateful day back in 1998- shifting constantly between ‘Mortal Peril’ and ‘Lost’. Everyone but Charlie- his was tucked safely into the ‘Home’ portion. He stared at the clock for a long time until Augusta tapped his shoulder.
“Come on, Charlie Weasley. Time for bed.” As she swooped him under her arm, Charlie almost felt tears coming to his eyes.
A few years ago, it would have been his mother doing this. Trying to calm my nerves, telling me not to worry so much, ushering me up the stairs toward my room… A terrible hitch caught in Charlie’s throat and he had to swallow it down hard just not to cry. But it isn’t my room anymore. It’s Percy’s room. And Percy’s gone… just like all the others… Lost in his thoughts and with his eyes glazy, Charlie only halfway murmured a ‘goodnight’ to Augusta before he disappeared inside the room that once belonged to his prat of a little brother. Augusta watched him go with a sad, tired understanding in her eyes as she headed for the quarters that had formerly belonged to Ginevra Weasley.
Unbeknownst to the witch and wizard, no more had they retired to their rooms, did Archimedes come gliding back in the Burrow. This time, he entered through a cracked window on the upper floor in Ron’s old room- which was now used as Charlie’s study. Archimedes had a determined look on his face as he fluttered across the desk. Papers were strewn all about, and there was constant evidence of Charlie’s aggravation and disheartenment- both in empty Butterbeer bottles and broken things scattered across the floor. Archimedes paid no mind to the rubbish under his claws or the smell of liquor from the empty bottles. He had his eyes locked on the bookshelf- on one single, particular thing.
Three years ago when Charlie Weasley got the letter from Augusta of what was being called ‘The Vanishing of Hogwarts’, he’d been at the Burrow. The war was freshly won and he had come back after the Battle of Hogwarts to collect a few things for his family. He’d only just seen them the morning prior and didn’t understand what Augusta Longbottom had meant when she said ‘the entire school is gone!’ Then he showed up and saw exactly what she meant. It was all… gone. And his entire family with it. The next few days were spent in a frenzy, as it wasn’t just the school, staff, and students who had vanished. It was also all of Hogsmeade Village as well as Malfoy Manor. Charlie himself led the search parties upon all three grounds and found only a single bit of evidence. An odd object. A peculiar find. Something that had no business laying in the grass upon the land where Malfoy Manor once stood…
Archimedes’ eyes glowed orange like the potion that hexed the paper in his claws as he hovered in front of the bookshelf. With his beak, he plucked a single novel from the rows and rows of others and it clattered to the floor. Beauty and the Beast. It was small and thin- a muggle children’s book. When Charlie originally picked it up from the sodden earth, he nearly threw it away but something, something told him to keep it. And he did. Now Archimedes landed beside it and used his beak to nudge the book open. He stared down at the colorful, illustrated pages and unclenched his claw. The scroll fell from his grasp and rolled into the nook between the pages. An orange light beamed up from the letter and it vanished against the words that the owl didn’t understand. Satisfied to have concluded his quest so quickly, Archimedes left the study- eager to head off into the night in search of warm, fresh rats.
…
Charlie’s letter floated down, down, down forever through an endless sea of nothing until it was picked up by the wind. The breeze carried it faithfully through a town that looked like Hogsmeade and landed steadily on the steps of an outlying cottage on the edge of a schoolyard. A giant man, who was sitting outside enjoying the nighttime air, glanced over when the parchment met the stone.
He picked it up, unfolded it, then began to read. But Charlie’s words were gone. Yes, the letter itself had been permitted into the story… but the things he wrote were changed. Just like everything else in this world- nothing was as simple as it seemed. In place of a heartfelt plea to find his family, Hagrid found an invitation to an invention convention in the town over for the following day. With a wide smile broadening on his face, the huge man lumbered back inside- eager to tell his daughter of the amazing opportunity that had fallen- almost quite literally- into his lap.
Notes:
Bonus points if anyone knows why it's funny that Charlie's owl is named Archimedes?...
Chapter 3: The Inventor’s Daughter
Summary:
{Hermione}
Our Golden Girl is off to live another boring day in her quiet, simple town. Hermione is unaware that everything is about to change forever.
Notes:
Woohoo! Our first chapter *inside* the storybook.
I will say that the character of LeFou is split into two different characters- Harry and Neville. I've chosen LeFou in this story to be a combination of both the original and the remake because I love how redeemable he was in the 2017 version of Beauty and the Beast.
Anyway, I hope you like this intro to the magic. It gets wilder and weirder from here so please enjoy your journey to the stars! <3
Chapter Text
{Wednesday, May 8th, 2002}
Hermione woke with a jump. She wasn’t sure why she always started her day in a bit of a confused manner- but every day it was the same. Wake. Confusion. Then a kind of settled understanding. And finally… a sense of normalcy. She threw her legs over the side of the bed, yawned, and stretched. She smiled as an ugly, fluffy mass of orange fur uncurled from between her pillows and padded over to her. The pumpkin-colored creature let out a sound that was almost like a meow as she patted it between the ears. Then she hummed to herself as she pushed to her feet and strode over to her vanity. She collected a silver hairbrush from the desk and began to run it through her mane of thick, curly hair. She immediately decided it wasn’t going to go down easily and pulled the gingery strands back into a bushy ponytail instead.
“’Ermione, dear!” came the cry from her father as he called to her from the garden. “Ar’ya awake?”
“Yes!” she returned with a playful roll of her eyes. She made her way over to the cracked window and leaned against the pane. She peered down and smiled brightly as a warm face tilted upward at her. Her father, Hagrid, was a brutishly large, kind man with untamed, wiry black hair and soft eyes that were as dark as damp earth. He waved up to her from where he was tending to their Mandrakes. “Good morning, Papa,” she said with a beaming smile as Crookshanks- the orange monstrosity- wound himself around her feet.
“When you’re up and at em, fetch some things from in town for me?”
“Yes, father,” she replied with a laugh as she tucked back into the room. Hermione found her clothes in the same place she always did- folded neatly on the back of her wingchair.
She dressed quickly in a comfortable outfit that wouldn’t hinder her daily tasks. Her undergarments were white and loose fitting, and she decided on actual socks instead of stockings. She layered a dusty blue pinafore overtop and tied a blue denim belt around her waist- of which there was a piece of fabric with a pocket sewn on. She tucked a towel into her belt, drew up one side of her dress, and folded it over so that she would have more movement around her feet. Hermione picked up Crookshanks, gave him a kiss, tossed him playfully back onto the bed, then slipped on a pair of ankle-high boots that didn’t even cover her woolen socks. She bade the ugly creature farewell, snagged a book from her vanity, then headed from the room. Hermione met her father out in the garden and he smiled at her and pulled her into a tight hug. He smelled of rich soil, plants, and sunshine.
“My lovely little girl,” he said in a voice that was nearly choked with emotion. “How ‘ave you grown up so fast on me?...”
“Papa, you tell me that every day,” she chuckled as she stepped back from him. Despite it not being too hot outside, Hagrid was already sweating and his hands had a nervous tremble to them. She smiled up at the giant man and placed her hands on her hips. “Are you anxious about today?”
“Well, it’s my first time out of town since we moved here when ya were just a baby,” he told her honestly. “But an inventor’s convention? I can’t miss it! Like I told ya this mornin’, the letter practically fell into my lap. I’d be an idiot to not at least look into it.”
“What will you be taking?” she asked him fondly as the two began to stroll side by side among the countless herbs and plants.
“The woodchopper of course! And some of the music boxes ya made. I figure they ‘ave to like at least one of those things, eh?”
“Oh, I think that’s a beautiful idea!” Hermione told him as she gave an excited little hop. “Will you take the music box I painted to look like a Mandrake?”
“Of course I’m takin’ that one! It’s my favorite.” As they neared the end of the garden, Hagrid turned his head down to look at her. He smiled softly and extended a little bottle from inside his pocket. “Take this to Mr. Lupin would ya? I heard him howlin’ somethin’ awful the other night. I know he ought to not be feelin’ too good.”
“Yes, Papa.” She took it from him and tucked it into the pocket she’d sewn on the inside of her pinafore near her heart. She wrapped her arms around Hagrid, though she was only able to reach about a quarter of his belly. He smiled and patted her shoulder gently. “I love you.”
“I love ya too, ‘Ermione. Now off with ya. I gotta get packing!...”
She pulled away from him with a smile and took off in a skip. She headed away from their cottage on the school grounds and toward Hogsmeade Village. It wasn’t that she wasn’t a fan of Hogsmeade… Because, being honest, it’s the only interesting thing about where we live… But it just seemed like everyone inside of it was so incredibly compliant with whatever roles they had to play. Zonko’s ran their joke shop, The Three Broomsticks had amazing Butterbeer, Stitches and Draughts had everything, Madam Puddifoot’s was the place to be if you wanted tea, and of course Hermione’s favorite place in the village was Tomes and Scrolls- a bookstore of sorts. And yet…
Hermione slowed her skipping and fell into a walk as her boots clicked against the cobblestone path. She could already read the Hogsmeade Village sign and she knew as soon as she crossed the threshold into the town, it would come alive with people in their usual patterns. She ran her fingers along the book in her pocket and shook her head. “A little town- it’s a quiet village,” she murmured to herself. “Every day, like the one before. Little town, full of little people. Waking up to say…” She stepped under the sign and it was like a switch was flipped. Doors and windows all banged open as Hogsmeade breathed into life.
“Bonjour!”
“Bonjour!”
“Bonjour!”
“Bonjour!”
“Bonjour!” Came a familiar greeting and she turned to see the owner of The Three Broomsticks flipping over her ‘open’ sign. Hermione rolled her eyes at Madam Rosmerta, but waved at her anyway.
“Good morning!” She called and the busty barkeep shook her head at her. Hermione dug around inside her pocket and extended some sickles to Madam Rosmerta. “A loaf of pumpernickel, please.”
“Baked it fresh for you this morning.” As if she knew she’d be coming for it, Rosmerta dipped back inside and grabbed a paper bag. She handed it to Hermione as she placed the coins in her palm. “Say hello to your father for me.”
“I will!” Hermione called over her shoulder as she headed across town to make her way toward Tomes and Scrolls. Madam Rosmerta has her tray like always. The same old bread and rolls to sell. Every morning just the same, since the morning that we came, to this poor, provincial town…
“Good morning, Hermione!” greeted a cheery man with wisps of graying red hair clinging to either side of his head. He looked quite dirty and was holding a newly plotted Mandrake in his hands. One of Neville’s, surely.
“Good morning, Monsieur Weasley,” she told him with honest warmth on her face. Of all the residents of the town, Arthur was one of the only ones she could stomach properly (though some of his sons were okay… not all, but some). She was just about to say more to him when a very tired looking man caught her eye as he was coming out of The Magic Neep. He was tall and pale with heavy scars across his face, throat, and hands. He had sandy colored hair that was streaked with silver. His maroon sweater was tattered and his trousers torn. He was leaning heavily on a cane, but despite how exhausted he looked, his hazel eyes were soft and kind as he neared the pair.
“You look lovely today,” he said in a warm, genuine voice. “And good morning, Arthur! How goes the repair shop?”
“Quite well, quite well indeed! I’m working on a clock currently that doesn’t tell time, but instead will switch in between whatever place you visit or state you’re in. Imagine not having to wonder where your housemate is ever again. Just look at the clock and, ah ha ha! At work.” He clapped the newcomer gently on the back and waved goodbye to Hermione as he turned on his heels. “I’m off to it then. But damn, I seem to have forgotten something… can’t remember what it is for the life of me…” Arthur muttered to himself until he was out of their sight. The scarred man smiled politely at Hermione and she dipped her head to him.
“You look… tired, Monsieur Lupin,” she told him as gently as she could. She pulled the little bottle from aside her breast. She extended it to him and he took it with a shaky, bruised hand. She lowered her voice. “Papa said it will help with the body aches. We heard you the other night. Are you?...”
“Fine, quite fine,” he replied with a great deal of mirth on his face as he tucked the little phial inside his pocket. “But much like our good friend Arthur, I’ve lost something again. But as hard as I’ve tried and I’ve tried, and I’ve tried!... I can’t remember for the life of me what it is…” He shook his head a little. “And I’m just sore, as usual. Tell Hagrid he has my thanks. As do you.” The weathered man took Hermione’s hand and lifted it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles softly and someone scoffed at the notion nearby.
“Careful. Dogs bite, y’know,” grumbled Argus Filch- the owner of the local asylum. Lupin flinched and dropped Hermione’s hand. Her eyes softened at him, but he just nodded at her kindly and turned away.
“Mr. Lupin!...”
“Come visit me anytime. The shack gets lonely. I’d love to hear one of your stories…” With his head down low, Lupin headed toward the Hogsmeade sign. Many moved out of his way to let him pass as if they were afraid to get too close to him. Hermione watched him go with sad eyes. Honestly, all because he’s a werewolf… he’s just the sweetest thing… and why do they have to keep him shut away from everyone else in that terrible place? He’s not a monster…
Everyone knew the stories. Remus Lupin had been all but shunned by the rest of Hogsmeade for as long as anyone could remember. He was forced to live on the outskirts of the village, tucked away in a rickety old shack that had no external doors or windows. He had to enter it from a secret tunnel- of which nobody knew the location. (That wasn’t true entirely, Hermione knew where it was and so did her father. Hagrid had a tender spot in his heart for the damned, rejected, and unloved.) He stayed in his house alone most of the time, but every now and then the townspeople would dare one another to get close to it and they would hear him muttering to himself about having lost something, some type of creature called a Padfoot, and of course, during full moons… Nobody had ever stayed by the Shrieking Shack once the sun went down on a cycle night.
Hermione watched Lupin go until he left her sight and then she headed quickly toward Tomes and Scrolls. She pulled the door open and stepped inside. All around the room were piles and piles of books of every kind stacked in messy heaps. Some were ancient, others were newer. Some were half eaten by moths and many more had dust jackets without a scratch on them. A few of them were muggle-based, she knew that, but from where she wasn’t sure. Nobody in Hogsmeade had ever left the town. Behind a pile of books, propped up on a desk that looked like it was being held up by toothpicks and pure willpower, there was a picture frame that held the sleeping image of a pale man with dark, sleek black hair. He perked up immediately when he heard Hermione enter and opened his eyes- the irises a deep brown so dark they were almost black.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite customer. The only bookworm in town,” he greeted with a soft, croaky voice. He picked up a pair of thick-framed glasses from somewhere in the portrait she couldn’t see and placed them upon his nose. “Hello, Hermione.”
“I’m your only customer, Phineas Nigellus,” she teased as she showed him the book she’d been reading. He shook his head at her and smiled with oddly white teeth as he motioned toward any of the unkept piles.
“All the more reason for you to be my favorite.”
She began to pilfer around, using the back of her hand to knock some of the dust off a few of the books. “Do you have anything new in?”
“Not since yesterday, no,” the portrait laughed. “Besides, you know we don’t really get many new things this way. Haven’t for years.”
“That’s what everyone seems to say,” Hermione murmured as she plucked one of her favorites from a pile she was very, very familiar with. She lifted it up toward him and Phineas laughed at her.
“That one again?!”
“It’s my favorite!” she chuckled as she hugged it close to her chest. “It’s a muggle book, but it’s so exciting. There’s sword fights and daring adventures, oh, and a prince in disguise…”
“Oh, well if you love it that well, Hermione, why don’t you keep it?” He smiled at her softly and Hermione felt tears prickle in her eyes. “The book chooses the reader, after all.”
Something about that statement tickled the back of Hermione’s brain but she couldn’t quite understand why. She nodded, beaming, and leaned over toward the portrait. She kissed his forehead and headed from the shop with a smile. She cracked the novel open as soon as she got outside and adjusted the paper bag with the bread loaf in it so that it was back by her elbow instead of against her wrist. She wasn’t even aware of the peculiar looks from everyone else as she began to head down the stone path that would lead her back out of Hogsmeade Village.
“Look, there she goes. That girl is strange- no question,” murmured some of the townsfolk in agreement to one another. “Dazed and distracted, can’t you tell?”
“Never part of any crowd, ‘cause her head’s stuck on some cloud. No denying she’s a funny girl, that…”
Hermione turned on her heels just in time to avoid running into some idiot on a thestral. No, not just any idiot on a thestral… She groaned and glanced up to see her least favorite person in the entire village. Ronald Weasley. He had a handsome face with a long nose, freckles across his cheeks, and fire for hair. And beside him, never far away, was his loyal henchman- Harry Potter. At least Longbottom isn’t with them this time. God, I cannot handle the way he dotes on every step Ronald takes… Ron winked at her and Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Maybe watch where you’re going, Ronald? You nearly crushed me on that behemoth of yours.”
“Was never the intention,” came the silky reply. Nearby, a gaggle of women had gathered to fawn over Ron and it turned Hermione’s stomach. She had never cared much for Lavender, Padma, or Pavarti. She tried to walk out of his way, but he just turned his thestral so that it was blocking her path.
“I beg your pardon, but may I pass? I have a bread delivery to make to my father…”
“You’d get to the school much faster if you weren’t on foot. Perhaps a ride?” Harry suggested kindly enough, and Hermione just snarled at him.
“No thank you.” She pushed by them and headed on her way past the Hogsmeade sign. Ron growled lowly under his breath and moved to follow her, but Harry reached out a hand to stop the thestral from continuing.
“Don’t be too forward,” he warned his companion lightly. “The longer the chase- the sweeter the prize, my friend.”
Ron just watched Hermione go, her boots clicking on the stone as she delved again into the world inside the pages of her book. “Right from the moment when I met her, saw her… I said ‘she’s gorgeous’ and I fell,” Ron said to Harry in a light singing voice that made Lavender swoon sideways on her feet. “Here in town there’s only she, who is beautiful as me. So I’m making plans to woo and marry…”
“Doesn’t she have to like you first?” Harry muttered but Ron glared at him and he silenced. He gave the thestral a little prod and they turned around then disappeared into the crowd. He hopped off the horse-like creature then headed off the way Hermione had come. Harry groaned, palmed his forehead with his hand, and followed loyally after.
Hermione slowed when she neared the lonely hill that held the Shrieking Shack. She stared out at the eerie, quiet building and wondered what Lupin was doing inside of it. Pacing? Reading? Looking for whatever it is that he’s lost?... She glanced down at the book in her hands and decided that she’d enter through the tunnel under the Whomping Willow and go pay him a visit once she made it back home. She was just about to head off again when she heard two sets of footsteps rapidly approaching. She glanced over and immediately felt dread set in when Ron and Harry sidled up to her.
“Good morning, Hermione!” Ronald greeted far too cheerily. “I wanted to apologize for nearly trampling you a moment ago. Can we start our interaction over?”
“Oh.” She blinked harshly. “Apology accepted. Goodbye.” She turned on her heels and Ron looked at Harry desperately. His best friend mouthed the word ‘book’. Ron turned back around and flailed his arms a bit.
“That’s a wonderful book you have there!” he blurted out and Hermione paused in her tracks. She faced them again, her eyes wide.
“You’ve… You’ve read it?”
Ron faltered. “Oh. No. I’ve… read books though, before, I mean. All the same really aren’t they? Just words on parchment.”
The surprise on Hermione’s face melted into near malice. She rolled her eyes and spun away again. Ron turned frantically back to Harry and his companion just adjusted his glasses and motioned toward her again. Ronald took a few strides forward and grabbed Hermione by her wrist.
“Would you join me for dinner tonight?”
“Dinner?!” She spat as she yanked her hand away. Hermione faced him- nearly nose to nose with the ginger brute. “Oh, absolutely not, Ronald Weasley. I have far too much to do. My father is going out of town for an inventor’s convention, you see. And I have to tend to the cottage.”
“Oh, so maybe tomorrow then?”
“No,” Hermione said blankly as she turned on her heels with a final kind of force and stormed off. This time, Ronald didn’t follow her.
She groaned and nearly walked at a doubled pace as she headed away from Hogsmeade as quickly as possible. “Outrageous, that man… thinking that…” Her face flushed red and she shook her head. She opened her book again and read it the entire way to her house. She was rather thankful that it was summertime and that classes weren’t in session. Even though the students all stayed at Hogwarts year round (or she assumed they did, she never saw anyone come or go), they weren’t as rowdy when the term wasn’t in. And it gives Papa a break from his teachings so he has time to spend with me and working on his inventions…
By the time she made it back to Hagrid’s Hut- as the student body so lovingly called it- her father had loaded up his miraculous magic woodchopping machine and seven of her music boxes onto a wagon quite fit for a giant. He was just anchoring their adoring hippogriff, Buckbeak, into his harness when she entered through the garden again. He smiled over his shoulder at her as he placed a hat upon his head.
“For your travels. Rosmerta baked it fresh this morning,” she told him as she handed Hagrid the bag with the bread loaf inside of it. He smelled the still warm wheat and nodded.
“Perfect. Thank ya, ‘Ermione. Did ya get Remus his potion?”
“Yes. I was thinking of visiting him later once I’ve finished my chores. He seems quite down.”
“Poor man with how they treat em,” murmured Hagrid as he climbed up- quite clumsily- into the giant carriage and settled himself in. He glanced down at his daughter fondly and cupped her cheek with a massive hand. “Can I bring ya back anything? I can’t remember what the outside of this town is like…”
“A rose?” she asked simply with glittering eyes. “It’s what the princess in my book adores.”
“Then a rose it’ll be,” he told her softly. “I love ya, ‘Ermione. With all my heart.”
“I love you too, Papa. Be safe.” She smiled at him as he gave the reins a little pull and Buckbeak took off toward the worn path to Hogsmeade Village.
“See ya tomorrow!”
“See you then…” Hermione watched her father until he disappeared from her sight- much as she had done for Mr. Lupin. She had a rather odd feeling creep up her spine and shivered. She disappeared into the hut and took to her father’s chair (which was four times her size and she often used it for a bed). She opened her book and turned the page. Hermione hadn’t gotten three sentences in when there came a sudden knocking. She groaned and slammed her book shut. Hermione pushed to her feet, stormed over to the door, and threw it open. Standing in front of her was Ronald Weasley.
“What do you want?!” she snapped.
“Just to talk. Must you always be so hostile?” He extended a bouquet of flowers to her and Hermione took them with a sigh. “Can’t we just… start the conversation over?”
“Harry’s idea?” she muttered and Ron perked up a bit.
“Look, Hermione. I just wanted to tell you. I’m crazy about you. And I would be honored if you’d take my hand in marriage.”
Hermione’s jaw dropped. She placed her hands on her hips. “Traditionally, a gentleman asks a girl’s father for permission…”
“Well where is Hagrid! I’ll ask him right now.”
“I told you- h-he left for the convention…”
“So I’ll come back! When will he return?”
“Tomorrow, but Ronald…” Ron moved as if to kiss her and Hermione let out a squeak. She dodged out of the way and turned against the window. “But his blessing won’t change anything.”
“Why not?” Ron asked, looking positively hurt.
“I’ll never marry you,” Hermione said blankly as she gave him a shove out of the doorway and watched, horrified and amused, as he tumbled down the steps and landed in a mixture of mud puddle… and hippogriff dung. She slammed the door and sunk down the wooden plank. She covered her mouth with her hands and lost herself in a fit of giggles. She waited for some time before she checked out the window to see if he and his little stooge were gone. She cracked open the door and stared down at the mark in the ground where Ron landed. Crookshanks wound around her feet and meowed loudly up at her.
“Oh, can you believe that?!” she sighed to her cat as she patted the monstrosity between his ears. The thought of marrying Ronald Weasley… “Can you imagine? The wife of that boorish, brainless…” She pulled the towel from her belt and wrapped it around her head to hide her bushy hair. “Madame Weasley, can’t you just see it?” She batted her eyelashes down at Crookshanks with a disgusted look on her face. “Madame Weasley, his little wife?!” She threw the towel from her head and picked up Crookshanks instead. “No sir, not me. I guarantee it. I want much more than this provincial life…” She spun with him in her arms and stared out at Hogwarts as the bright rays of sun lit the school in a shimmer of golden sparkles. Her heart ached for something, that familiar unknown that so often left a void in her chest. She nestled Crookshanks under her chin as her eyes glossed with tears of desire.
“I want adventure in the great, wide somewhere. I want it more than I can tell. And for once, it might be grand… to have someone understand… I want so much more than they’ve got planned…” She laughed as Crookshanks struggled in her grasp and she reluctantly sat him down. She stared off across the school grounds again and noted the Whomping Willow on the far side of the hill. Determined to make light of what had started as a truly dreadful day, Hermione raced back inside to grab a book. She snatched the one from under her pillow then headed off to visit Remus Lupin.
Chapter 4: The Price of a Rose
Summary:
{Hagrid}
Our favorite half-giant runs into some bad luck on his way out of town.
Notes:
Heyyy everyone! Finally, we're back at the castle and get to meet some of our crew! Just in case you're wondering about who is who and who is cursed into what in the Beauty and the Beast Universe- here's a guide:
The Beast/The Prince- Draco Malfoy (obviously)
Lumière/The Candelabra- Lucius Malfoy
Cogsworth/The Clock- Peter Pettigrew
Mrs. Potts/The Teakettle- Molly Weasley
Chip(Chippette)/The Teacup- Ginny Weasley
Froufrou/The Piano Stool- Sirius BlackAs we go along and more Enchanted Staff are introduced, I'll post an updated cast list!
---
I'm going out of town for a work convention and won't be back until next Monday. I'm not sure if I'll have time to edit another chapter by then or not, so this might be my only post for the week. <3 Love y'all. Drink some water and enjoy your journey to the stars!
Chapter Text
“I’m not really sure where we’re going now, Beaky,” Hagrid said to his loyal hippogriff as they trotted along the path that skirted on the outside of the Forbidden Forest. Why was it called the Forbidden Forest anyway? Can’t imagine there’s anything too horrible in there… Hagrid stared into the woods fondly, as if he was remembering something he’d long forgotten. He shook his head and glanced down at the letter again.
Hello to anyone whom this might reach with a mind for creation and invention. My name is Chuck Weaselbee, and I am looking for my next big star. If you’re out there, if this finds you, let us know. Come to the next town over for our festival tomorrow! We are waiting for you.
“Not really any directions, huh?” Hagrid scratched the back of his neck. He tugged on the reins and Buckbeak stopped walking. The half giant stared out into the Forbidden Forest and felt an odd sense of longing. “Y’know, Beaky, I bet we could get to the next town a lot faster if we just took a shortcut through here. What’dya say?” Buckbeak lashed his tail anxiously, but Hagrid paid it no mind. He snapped the reins and they headed off the beaten path and into the darkened wood.
Thirty minutes later, the temperature had dropped considerably. A full hour in, Hagrid could see his breath and was stunned when snowflakes started falling from the darkened sky above them. “No need to be alarmed, Buckbeak,” he said to the hippogriff, who was taking slower and more calculative steps with every passing moment. “Just some snow… in… May…” He shivered and tucked tighter into his coat. “Why did you bring us this way, Beaky?...” The hippogriff glared hatefully over his shoulder at him and Hagrid cleared his throat. “Ah, can’t be much further now, I’d say…” Just then, there was a terrible scuttling noise and both the beast and its rider froze. Hagrid glanced around and saw that they were surrounded on nearly all sides by giant, ferocious looking arachnids. Acromantula!
“Go, Beaky, git!” Hagrid snapped the reins and the hippogriff took off as fast as his four feet would carry him. The spiders churred behind them and followed hungrily in pursuit with a giant female in the lead. Hagrid gasped and clutched the reins tighter as he fished around the floorboard of the carriage in search of his umbrella. One of the Acromantulas leaped from a treetop down onto Buckbeak’s shoulders and the hippogriff spooked. He flared his wings and reared backward. The carriage rocked and Hagrid was thrown from his seat. He landed in the snow with a force hard enough to draw breath from his lungs. Buckbeak sprinted off into the forest with a few spiders chasing after him. The rest of them were coming for Hagrid.
The half-giant forced himself to his feet and went thundering off the opposite direction, panting and crying out for help as the Acromantulas gained on him. Just when he thought all hope was surely lost, a black gate came into view. He hurried over to it and grabbed the wrought iron in his hands. “Please, let me in! Help!” Any other time, Hagrid might have tried to reason with these creatures. (Maybe even pet one.) But this was not the time, the place, or the environment. He pulled on the gate again, and this time it opened. As soon as he was inside, he slammed the iron shut and the spiders stopped outside of it- glaring through the bars with hatred glittering in their many beady eyes. Hagrid rubbed his shoulders and exhaled as he turned around. Instantly his mouth dropped open in awe.
Looming before him, dark and spire-like against the blackened sky, was a mansion unlike any he had ever seen before. High towers stood stoic and ancient, dusted with snow and mounted by marble gargoyles. Unkept gardens overflowed across a broken stone path and countless flowers of every kind lay sparkling in a field of frost. He suddenly remembered Hermione’s request and plucked a peculiar green rose from under a sheet of frozen fractals. Hagrid shivered at the unwelcome energy that radiated from the place, but he knew he had no choice but to seek refuge inside. Can’t go back out there… at least not right now. He rubbed his hands together for warmth and headed unsteadily down the cracked brick path. He came to a door with a snake’s head knocker and grabbed it in his colossal hand. He was about to lift it when he saw something shift out of the corner of his eye and he turned his head to come face to face with a beautiful, radiant white peacock. Its beady black eyes glared at him with judgement. Then, it turned its head, lifted its tailfeathers, and promptly strutted away.
“Beautiful creature,” he murmured under his breath as he went to knock but found, much to his surprise, that the door was now cracked open. Hagrid raised an eyebrow and stepped inside. He looked all around in awe, amazed at the intricate, royal beauty of this place. “Hello?” he called and his voice echoed around the seemingly empty room. “T-Thank ya for having me in. I ran into some trouble on my way to the next town over…”
“A visitor! He must have gotten lost in the woods.”
“Would you shut up?!”
Hagrid spun on his feet in search of the voices- one excited and proper and one nasally and high. He instead found himself staring at a table clock and a candelabra. He lowered himself down and stared at the trinkets in front of him with wide, amazed eyes. “Never seen a clock like this…” He picked it up off the counter and admired the handywork of it. It was truly unique, with a design that made it look like it had eyes, and screws down the front that resembled buttons for a jacket. And, most amusing to him, was the fact that a secondary piece of glass toward the bottom revealed a mechanical mouse on a platform that was being chased in a circle by a black dog. “Absolutely beautiful…” He sat it back down and picked up the candlestick, which lit instantly when he took it in his hand.
He began to walk through the corridor, looking all around for the cause of the voices he’d heard earlier. “I don’t wanna overstay my welcome. I’m just cold.” He caught sight of a magnificent fireplace by a vacant, dusty dining room table. As he made his way over to it, he was faintly aware of the sound of more shuffling feet. He glanced over his shoulder but saw nothing. When he turned to face the hearth again, it was alive with flame. Smiling in relief for the warmth, Hagrid seated himself a bit uncomfortably in a massive wingchair and sat down the candelabra. He rubbed his hands together and turned his palms toward the fire.
“Thank ya! I’ll just warm myself for a moment and I’ll be on m’way.”
“A spot of tea?” Came a woman’s kindly voice and Hagrid glanced around the back of the chair. An uneasy feeling began to creep up his spine as a little trolly rolled forward with a porcelain kettle and a little teacup. Reluctantly, Hagrid picked up the cup and moved to press it to his lips. No more did the glass brim touch his mouth, did he hear a little giggle like that of a young lady.
“Ah! Ha, ha, ha, ha! Oh, sir. Your beard tickles!”
“Chip, no!” Said the woman’s voice again and Hagrid bolted to his feet. He glanced around in all directions as he began to tremble. Tea splashed into his beard as he pulled the cup away. He realized then that it was actually moving in his hand. Eyes that were sculpted into the red paintjob on the porcelain stared up at him with an apologetic expression.
“Sorry, sir. Didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Hagrid’s world screeched to a stop. He gave a polite nod, placed the teacup back down on the trolly, and went sprinting for the door.
“Monsieur, wait! Wait! You’re sure to catch your death out there in the blizzard!” This voice Hagrid recognized. He heard it when he first walked in. He turned on his feet and nearly fainted on the spot to see the candelabra walking toward him with the clock he’d picked up closely at his heels. “Please, you must stay until the storm subsides…”
“No, no, no!” Chimed in the clock. “Absolutely not. Master will be furious enough as it is that we have an intruder.”
“Intruder!” Hagrid was aghast. “But someone opened the door for me!”
“Yes, well. We thought you might be a girl,” came the pleasant motherly voice again as the tea trolly rolled in. Hagrid realized this time that the thing that was speaking was the teapot itself. He shook his head in disbelief and rubbed his eyes.
“I must ‘ave hit my head when Buckbeak threw me…”
Just then there was a loud echo of barking and the tapping of wood on marble. A piano stool came racing into the room from somewhere else in the castle. It was embroidered in black silk and jumped up and down on its hind pegs, begging for Hagrid to pet it. Unable to resist the lure of a kindly creature, the half giant patted its upholstery gently.
“What a magnificent place…” he murmured as he glanced around with a shiver. “B-But, I really… really must be going…” The piano stool looked crestfallen- if it was at all possible for a piece of furniture to look dissatisfied- and it lowered itself down onto all fours again with a disappointed whine.
“Going so soon, thief?” The half-human, half-snake-like voice sucked all the warmth out of the room. All of the enchanted objects swept away from Hagrid as an unbelievable creature coiled itself down the staircase banister. The half-giant’s eyes stretched wide in fear as the beast came to tower over him. It was a horrible monster with emerald serpent scales all over its body and fangs that gleamed like bone in the light. Silver eyes glared with hatred as it reared back on powerful hind legs and flexed obsidian-like claws. “Trespasser!” it hissed. “Thief!”
“Master, please…” reasoned the candlestick, but the serpent snapped its fangs at it and the candelabra leaped backward away from its horrible maw. The creature turned its terrible gaze once again to Hagrid.
“What are you doing here?!” it snarled and the colossal man fell to his knees.
“I-I, please, sir… I got lost in the woods… I…”
“Nobody enters the Forbidden Forest! No one!” Screeched the monster and the little teacup dove behind the kettle to hide. “You came here to stare at me! To mock the beast. To steal from my garden!”
“I only took a rose, please! I-I’ll give it back. I…” Hagrid reached into his pocket to grab the flower, but the snake wrapped a long tail around his wrist and yanked him forward. The serpent’s cold eyes were filled with malice as he drew Hagrid close to him until they were face to horrible face.
“I know just what to do with thieves.”
Chapter 5: Inside the Winter-Kissed Forest
Summary:
{Hermione}
Hermione visits with Remus Lupin and asks him some challenging questions. Later, she discovers Buckbeak returning to the Hut... without her father.
Notes:
Finally they meet! Mwahahaha.
As a side note, the White Peacock is someone who got cursed too. Anyone wanna guess who?...
Chapter Text
“Mr. Lupin?” Hermione called as she closed the cellar door to the Shrieking Shack. She could hear him shuffling around close by, muttering under his breath about something.
“… forgot, can’t remember… Padfoot… where is Padfoot?...”
“Mr. Lupin?” she repeated as she stepped more directly into the living quarters. The poor shed had seen better days and was in a complete state of disarray. The piano was covered in dust and Hermione wondered if he’d ever even played it. Or if he even knows how… The paint was peeling off the forsaken walls in long strips and there were claw marks gouged into the decaying floorboards. The entire dwelling smelled faintly of wet dog, blood, and misery. And then… of warm tea and honey.
Remus Lupin popped his head out from around a corner with a small smile on his ashen face. “Oh, Hermione! I wasn’t expecting you by so soon…”
“I hope I’m not intruding,” she greeted warmly, smiling a bit as the former professor handed her a cup of tea. “I knocked on the cellar door, but I didn’t think you could hear me…”
“No, I was lost in my thoughts again. Look at me… not even forty years old and rambling like an old man,” he sighed with a shake of his head as he sunk into a tattered wingchair. He offered Hermione a seat upon the dusty piano bench and she took it with a smile. “I’m sorry the environment isn’t more welcoming. I… I’m not used to getting visitors…” Chagrin dyed his face an unpleasant shade of vermillion as he used his foot to push a scrap of stray fur out of her line of vision and under the ancient rug on the floor. “And no matter how much I clean this place, it always looks like its own personal ring of hell.”
“I don’t mind it. I can help you clean sometime if you’d like?” she offered brightly. “Papa makes wonderful feather dusters out of Buckbeak’s shedding. They can tidy absolutely anything.”
“I might take you up on that,” Remus replied kindly as he sipped on his tea. He shuttered a bit and tucked tighter into the chair. “So what do I owe the pleasantry of your presence today, my dear?”
“Well, I was hoping I could discuss some books with you?” She pulled a few of the stories she’d brought with her out of her dress pocket. “Being halfblood, I figured you’d know some popular muggle literature.”
“I do,” Remus said fondly as he tucked one of his legs up underneath him on the chair. “What do you have with you today?”
“Have you ever read Pride and Prejudice?”
Remus blinked at her thoughtfully as a smile spread across his sallow lips. “I believe my mother fancied that one. Oh, it’s been many years since I’ve heard anything about it… Let me see what I remember. Mister Darcy and Miss Bennet, am I correct?”
“Yes!” Hermione beamed as she extended the book to him and he took it with a nostalgic look on his face. “It’s one I started the other week. I just find it so engrossing.”
“Do you read one book at a time, or many?”
“Why do you want to know?” she teased, sticking out her tongue at him. Remus laughed and shook his head.
“Because I want to see how similar we are. I usually keep three books rotating at a time. Just in case I ever get stuck in a rut, or I lose my muse for a certain story, or… I don’t have the heart to finish a new book. I always, always, always keep one near my nightstand that I’ve read a thousand times.”
“Which one have you read a thousand times, professor?” she asked with genuine curiosity blooming across her face. The lycan’s cheeks filled with color.
“You won’t make fun of me?” he asked shakily and Hermione’s eyes softened.
“I would never!”
“Very well then…” He pulled his wand from inside his tattered robes and gave it a flick. “Accio Phantom of the Opera.” Hermione ducked as a book fluttered into the room from somewhere she couldn’t see. Remus snatched it in his hand and sighed softly as he ran his thumb over the cover. He tilted his head to her. “Ever read it?”
“No. What’s it about?” Hermione rose from the piano stool and closed the space between them. She sat on the edge of the wingchair as Remus handed the book to her.
“A man, of sorts, and a monster, I suppose… And a woman who falls in love with him anyway,” he responded as she carefully opened it, as the cover was torn and the edges of the pages were quite tattered. Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise.
“It’s in French!”
“Yes. It’s my mother’s copy. A version of the book in its original published state.”
“Mr. Lupin, I didn’t know you could read French.”
“We live in a French town… in France, Hermione. Of course I can read French.”
Something about that tugged at the back of her mind and made her eye twitch. Hermione glanced up at him and saw the lycan was watching her oddly and she wondered if he felt strange too. “Mr. Lupin…”
“You can just call me Remus.”
“Remus,” she returned softly as she closed the book carefully and sat it on her lap. “When did you come here?”
“The Shack? I’ve always lived here…”
“No, not here. I mean the town itself. When did you move to Hogsmeade? When did you start teaching at Hogwarts?”
Remus looked very confused all of a sudden and tilted his head. “I… I’ve lived here all my life, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“I suppose… well, I’d have to, wouldn’t I? I don’t remember moving here.”
“So is the Shrieking Shack your parents’ house then?”
“No,” he replied with a frown. “I doubt very much my mother would have raised me in a place like this.”
“So you do remember your mother then?” she continued, almost urgently, as a dull pain started to drum behind her left eye. “Plainly?”
“Very fondly so, yes.”
“But not here?” Hermione pressed further and Remus rubbed his temple with his fingers. He looked away from her and groaned in discomfort.
“Ah, a bit of a headache coming on… My apologies. Comes with the territory of lycanthropy, I’m afraid…”
“But you know, I think it’s funny,” Hermione went on as she glanced around the room. “I don’t remember moving here either. I know Papa and I came here a few when I was very little… but I don’t recall where we came from. Or why we moved here. We just… were.”
“Yes, well. Quite strange,” Remus muttered as he pushed to his feet, his finger still on his temples. “Excuse me, Hermione. I’m going to fetch some tonic for my headache. I’m afraid it’s coming on rather fast.”
“Shall I leave you?” she asked as he headed across the room. Hermione was trying to ignore the unpleasant pain throbbing behind both her eye sockets as he glanced over his shoulder with a look of dismay on his face.
“Oh, I would really like it if you stayed a while. If that’s okay. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.” He smiled at her then disappeared. Hermione studied the wall he’d vanished behind for a moment before sighing and getting to her feet. She walked across the room, back over to the piano, and picked up her teacup from where she’d sat it on the dusty cover. She sipped from it idly as her mind began to race. It can’t be normal that he doesn’t remember anything. That I don’t. That no one does… What is it about this place?... As Remus stepped back into the living quarters, a thought occurred to her and she glanced at him softly.
“Remus, who is Padfoot?”
He stalled midstride, one foot lifted to take its next step. A jarring look crossed his face and Remus flinched, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leaned against the wall. Hermione jumped to her feet in alarm, sat down his copy of The Phantom of the Opera and her mug, then raced over to him. She wrapped an arm around him and guided Remus back over to his wingchair. She settled him into it and crouched down on the balls of her feet. She pulled one of the towels from her belt and patted his cheek softly.
“Monsieur! Are you alright?”
“Y-Yes, Hermione. I’m fine. My head is just killing me all of a sudden.”
“I’ll leave you to rest,” she said softly as she pushed back to stand. “Do you have the potion that father made for you?” He nodded slightly and she smiled at him. She leaned down and kissed his temple. “I’ll come back to visit tomorrow? If you’re feeling well enough. Perhaps we can discuss The Phantom of the Opera some more?”
“I-I’d like that very much,” Remus said softly as he curled up in the raggedy chair. “Thank you, Hermione. Say hello to your father for me. Take care.”
“You as well,” she called as she slid into the cellar and closed the door behind her. As Hermione walked down the dark passage that led beneath the Whomping Willow, a hundred thoughts raced through her mind. Remus was perfectly fine until I started asking him questions about his past… And the more I inquired, the more ill he became. There has to be something to that... and there’s the fact that my head is killing me now… What is going on here?...
“I’ll talk to Papa about it when he gets back from the convention,” she said to herself as she exited under the tree and touched the gnarled root again for good measure. Hermione stuck her hands in her pockets as she walked and ran her fingers across the books that still existed there. She realized she’d left her copy of Pride and Prejudice on Remus’ chair and she groaned in frustration of the blunder. It can wait. I’ll rest tonight and just go back to snag it tomorrow…
Hermione remained so wrapped up in her thoughts that she made it back to the Hut in record time. She was just about to open the front door when she heard a terrified whinny from the woods. She just managed to jump out of the way before Buckbeak came streaking over to her, his eyes wild as he skidded to a halt. His legs were quivering and his feathers were ruffled in fear. Instantly, a terrible sense of dread started to overwhelm her when she realized he was still hooked up the carriage… but it was without its rider. Hermione staggered back to her feet and grabbed the hippogriff’s reins.
“Beaky! Beaky, where’s Papa?!” He turned his head toward the Forbidden Forest and let out a screech. Hermione’s heart sank as she began to undo his harness. “Take me to him!” She pulled herself up onto his back and loosened the last of his trappings. Buckbeak bellowed and leaped into the air.
Hermione clutched his neck tightly as he flew over the forest, his body twitching in ill ease as he lowered himself down closer to the tree line. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion when she noticed a clear divide between normal woods… and a section of the forest that was covered in a fresh dusting of snow. As soon as the environment shifted, Buckbeak lifted himself a bit higher, his flanks quivering as snowflakes fell from a gray sky and dusted his pale pelt in cold, glittery crystals. Hermione exhaled harshly and realized she could see her breath. She tucked her face into Buckbeak’s neck to avoid being whipped by the icy wind. She held herself there, her mind racing and heart thundering in her chest, as the hippogriff slowly began to descend. Hermione opened her eyes at last when she felt them land on crunchy, frozen ground. She lifted her head and stared in awe at the grand, dark castle before her.
“What… what is this place?” she whispered, mostly to herself. Buckbeak’s withers twitched again and he gave a shake of his head as they treaded slowly through a frozen garden of frosted flowers. Hermione’s heart leapt into her throat when she saw Hagrid’s massive shoeprints very clearly in the snow. She patted Buckbeak’s side as he crept ever closer to the looming, stoic castle. Her eyes raked over the manor, taking in the delicate details of every spire, every brick, and every gate. It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so dark and dreary. How can anyone live here?... Buckbeak stopped at the foot of the stone steps, his neck feathers rising in alarm. Hermione took a deep breath and slid from his back, careful not to nick his wings on the dismount. She approached the door slowly, her breath catching in her throat when she found it cracked.
“H-Hello?” she whispered as she placed her hand on the cold wood. “Hello, is there anyone there?...” She nearly leaped out of her skin when a chirring sound from beside her alerted her to the presence of another creature. Buckbeak lashed his horse tail as a lovely white peacock landed on the porch beside her and studied her face with dark, beady eyes. After just a moment, it nodded to her in a knowing kind of way, then turned on its feet and fluttered off across the yard. Hermione watched it settle on a throng of emerald-colored roses and glared at her hatefully. She licked her as an uneasy feeling crept up her spine. She turned to the door again and gasped in surprise to find it swung wide open. She glanced from side to side, gave Buckbeak one more pat on the head, then stepped beyond the threshold.
Her eyes stretched wide at the magnificent architecture inside the castle. There was brilliant stonework on the walls, incredible wooden banisters, winding staircases, marble floors, and breathtaking light fixtures. But… As far as Hermione could tell, the place was abandoned. She shivered from the cold and rubbed her arms as she stepped deeper into the glorious, dusty manor.
“Do you see that?” came a whisper from somewhere and Hermione froze in her tracks. “My, my! It’s a girl!”
“I can see that it’s a girl! Be quiet!”
“Maybe she’s the one! The one to break the spell…”
“If you don’t shut up, Lumiere, I’ll break off one of your candles!”
“I’d like to see you try, you treacherous timepiece!”
“You wimpy wax bin!”
“Hello!” Hermione whirled on her feet, her chest heaving anxiously as she glared around in all directions. But there was no one to see. No one… She shivered from the cold and took a step toward a table by the door. She grabbed a candelabra from its surface and instantly the wicks lit with enchanted flame. She sighed thankfully for the light then gently tugged her wand from her hair... which she hadn’t remembered putting there. Hermione wrinkled her nose as she once again developed a dull ache behind her eye. She realized she’d forgotten most of what she’d learned at school, but flourished the stick in her hand anyway and found herself acting involuntarily in a manner that didn’t make any sense to her. “Homenum Revelio,” she murmured, unable to believe the words had come to her at all. A little light flicked at the end of her wand and bounced down a shadowy corridor beyond the staircase. Hermione froze when she heard an echoing cough that was immediately familiar to her. “Papa…” Shoving her wand back into her hair, she followed the little light as fast as her feet would carry her.
“Papa?” she called in a frantic voice when she heard Hagrid’s cough again. The sound immediately stopped and was replaced by the echo of heavy footsteps on stone.
“’Ermione?!” She thrust the candlestick in front of her and instantly felt tears spring into her eyes. Hagrid was scuffed up with a still-bleeding cut across his cheek and blue skin already bruising around his left eye. He had those huge, log-like fingers coiled around the bars of a cell door and he looked desperately afraid as his daughter hurried over to him and placed her trembling hand over his knuckles. “’Ermione, no! You ‘ave to get out of here!”
“You’re hurt,” she whimpered as she reached her hand through the cell and cupped his rosy, cold cheek. “Oh, you’re just like ice! Papa, what happened? Buckbeak came back without you a-and I was so afraid…”
“’Ermione, listen to me,” Hagrid cut her off in a desperately urgent and stern voice that she’d never heard from him before. His dark eyes were pleading as he gave the bars a shake. “You ‘ave to leave. You 'ave to get back to Beaky and get out of 'ere before he comes back.”
“Before who comes back?!” Hermione gasped, anger coursing through her when she realized the startling truth- that someone had put her father in this cell. “Who did this to you?!”
“What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” A new, eerie, unwelcoming voice hissed. Hermione spun on her feet to see who had spoken, but something snapped against her wrist and she gasped from the sting. The candelabra tumbled from her fingers and clattered against the floor with a ringing sound that echoed through the dungeon. Now the stranger was shadowed and Hermione could only make out the gleaming silver of his eyes. She took a shaky step backward and gripped the bars of Hagrid’s cell with trembling fingers. She saw what looked like a whip flicker slightly in the dim glow of the floored candlelight.
“Who are you?!” she demanded in a voice much braver than she felt. “What have you done to my father?”
“I am the master of this castle,” snarled the stranger and Hermione noted instantly that every letter ‘s’ was elongated in a hiss. She lifted her head as the light flickered and she tried to catch a glimpse of him, but he stepped back into the darkness. “And your father is being held for trespassing. And thievery. He stole one of the roses from my garden…”
“I asked for the rose!” Hermione snapped at him as heat flushed to her cheeks. She took a step away from the cell bars as her heart hammered in her chest. “The fault is mine.”
“And yet it was his hand that plucked my rose,” snarled the stranger. “I have no sympathy for thieves. He’s my prisoner now and will rot in the dungeons for the rest of his days…”
“Please!” Hermione screamed as tears formed in her eyes. “He’s a good man, a kind man. H-He’s freezing and he’s injured. He needs care. Please. I’ll do anything. I’ll…” She took a deep breath and felt something quite odd boiling up inside of her. Courage beyond anything she’d ever known and she felt, once again, as if there was something she was forgetting. Like being brave wasn’t a strange thing to her. Like it’s part of who I am… Slowly, Hermione took a step forward until she was closer to the man who was cloaked in shadow. She stared up into the darkness as Hagrid gasped behind her.
“No, ‘Ermione! Don’t you dare…”
“I’ll take my father’s place. Please just let him go.”
“No!” Hagrid roared as he shook the bars of his cell. “No, ‘Ermione! I won’t let you do this!”
“You would…” The stranger’s voice seemed surprised and Hermione hadn’t expected it. “You would do that? Be my prisoner in place of him?” She felt the tears forming on her lashes and she stubbornly wiped them away.
“Yes. If it means you would let him be free.”
“No! I won’t let you!”
“Quiet, Papa!” Hermione whimpered as she tried to get a better look at her captor. Suddenly, a hand- gloved in something like green dragon skin- reached out to her from the shadows. Hermione closed her eyes, slid her hand into his own, and they shook.
“No!” her father cried, but Hermione knew the deal was made.
“It is done,” said the stranger as he tried to pull his hand back to himself, but Hermione gripped his wrist tightly and he froze. “Your father can go free… But now you will stay here with me forever.” She barely heard him. Hermione was peering down at the fingers, cold to the touch, that were wrapped around her hand. Hermione realized, with a pang of absolute terror, that it wasn’t a glove at all. It’s his skin. Slowly, she lifted her brown eyes upward into the shadows and felt all of the color drain from her face.
“Come into the light,” she whispered and, for a moment, she didn’t think he’d heard her. But then there was a shuffling of sound. Movement. Reptilian feet stepped forward from the shadows- long, black talons scraping against the bricks. Attached to the ankles were scaly legs that disappeared into a tattered pair of black trousers. A torso above the waistline was hard, lean, and bridged with emerald snake-like plates that looked like organic armor. The arm attached to the hand she was holding was lithe, streamlined and littered with finer reptilian scales. And his face? Hermione’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. He had a serpent’s face with a slitted mouth and sharp fangs that protruded from his maw. His irises were a dark, metallic silver and his pupils watched her with a predatory kind of focus. She saw something flicker behind him and realized, in horror, that the item she believed to be a whip was actually a tail. Oh my God… He’s a monster…
Hermione instinctively yanked her hand back to herself and covered her mouth in shock. The tears that were building on her lashes rolled down her face. She turned away from him and grabbed the bars that held her father. She leaned her head against them and Hagrid lowered himself down to do the same. Their skin brushed through the slots in the iron and he began to sob.
“Oh, ‘Ermione… W-What ‘ave you done?...”
The creature shifted behind her- Hermione heard his scales drag across the floor and his claws click on the bricks. The cell door opened and he grabbed Hagrid by his arm. Hermione watched, terrified, as his tail coiled around the man’s torso and he began to drag him from the dungeon. Her jaw dropped at the sheer strength of this beast. Her father was half giant and was much too heavy for one person to move on their own. But he’s hauling him like he’s nothing…
“Papa!” she cried when the shock wore off. She realized what was happening all too late. “No! Wait! I want to say goodbye! What are you doing to him! Stop it, stop!” She rushed forward to reach for him, but the creature’s head snapped around as he bared terrible, horrific fangs at her and showed a mouth full of snake’s teeth. Terrified, Hermione jumped back, slid down to the floor, dropped her face in her hands, and cried.
“No! No, ‘Ermione! Please!” Hagrid’s screams echoed all around her and she covered her ears, unable to bear the sound. She waited until they were gone from her sight, then she raced up the steps, and fled over to the nearest window. She saw the snake creature drag Hagrid to what appeared to be an abandoned carriage. He pulled the door open and threw her father in as if he weighed less than a feather. Hermione watched with tears streaming down her face as the beast called over the white peacock. He said something to it then turned away and headed quickly back toward the castle. Hermione’s eyes stretched wide in horror as the carriage sprouted spider-like legs and lifted itself up from the ground. She could hear Hagrid slamming his fists against the sides of the cab as it took off through the snowy garden with the peacock guiding its way.
“How could you?!” she sobbed when the beast entered the stony corridor again. She stormed up to him, tears running down her reddened face as she balled up her fists in anger. “You didn’t even let me say goodbye! I’ll never see him again and you just dragged him away!”
The serpent’s eyes sharpened, but his pupils lost some of their predatory focus. He looked away from her. “Come. I’ll show you to your room.”
“My room?...” Hermione whispered, choking back her sobs as she took a shaky step forward. “But I thought I was your prisoner?...”
“Do you prefer the dungeon?” he hissed and she shuddered at the sound. She followed behind him, careful not to tread on his tail as they walked up the grand staircase and onto the second floor. Hermione rubbed her arms anxiously as more tears welled in her eyes. She tried to distract herself from her agony and glanced all around, once again noticing the incredible décor of the castle. There were countless picture frames mounted on the walls- many of which held family portraits of a blond man, a fair-haired woman, and a handsome boy with white hair and pale eyes. The beast seemed to notice her staring and made a growling sound. “Don’t wander. Stay with me.”
She flinched and sped up, keeping in step behind him as she decided to study the ground beneath her feet instead. Hermione wasn’t sure how long they walked in silence, or how many turns they took, but eventually her captor stopped and turned on his scaly feet to face her. She looked up at him, surprised to see the candelabra she’d dropped on the dungeon floor was magically back in his hand. The beast motioned toward a door behind him.
“Your quarters, ma’am...” His serpent tongue flickered over the ‘s’ in quarters and it made Hermione nauseous. He glared at the candlestick with a grim expression on his face then looked back to her again. “I hope you like it here, Miss?...”
“Hermione,” she said in a shaky but determined voice. She saw something odd flash in his eyes. Like understanding. Or admiration. Or recognition. He dipped his head to her.
“Hermione,” he repeated her name and rolled the word around in his mouth. He nodded and held her gaze. “The castle is your home now so you may do as you wish and go where you please. Everywhere is within your accessibility except for the west wing.”
“But what’s in the…”
“It’s forbidden!” He snarled, those snake-like teeth only an inch from her face. Hermione set her jaw, furrowed her brow, and stood her ground. I’m not afraid of you… She saw some of the anger leave his face as he withdrew and tapped on her doorknob. “If you require anything, my servants will attend to you.”
“Servants?” she asked curiously as she carefully slid by him and took the doorknob to her room in her hand. “What servants? I haven’t seen anyone here but you. I even used a spell to show me any people in the area, and the only person it revealed was my father…”
“If you require anything, my servants will attend to you,” he repeated sternly as he turned on his scaly feet and began to walk away. Hermione watched him take a few measured steps and then stop. He sighed, his shoulders sagging, as he flicked his head toward the candlestick in his hand once more. Without turning to face her, he cleared his throat. “You will join me for dinner in an hour’s time. That is a demand, Hermione, not a request.” The ‘s’ on request felt harsher and nearly deadly. All of the color drained from her face as she watched the snake-like creature hurriedly walk away from her, turn down a corridor, and disappear from her sight.
Chapter 6: The Flight of Archimedes
Summary:
{Charlie Weasley}
Charlie and Augusta retrace their steps looking for clues... and make a vital discovery toward the truth of the Disappearance of Hogwarts.
Notes:
Back in the "real world" again. But fear not... we spend the next few chapters *inside* the book. I hope you enjoy this journey to the stars. <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
{It's still Wednesday, May 8th, 2002}
“Damn!” Charlie slammed his hand down on the dining room table as Augusta won, yet another, match of wizard’s chess. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration and ran his hands through his slick red hair. “You know, Ron was awfully good at this too. It was uncanny how well he could spin a chessboard.”
“I heard about his first year when he helped Harry Potter,” she snickered as she moved to reset the board. “It seems your brother missed his calling.”
Charlie’s eyes softened a bit as he thought of his youngest brother. Then his gaze unfocused as his thoughts shifted to Ginny. She was the sibling he knew the least and his heart ached a bit at the thought of never getting to know her- well, whoever she is now that she isn’t a child. He was just about to start spiraling into his thoughts again when Augusta gave his shoulder a little shake.
“Charlie? You still with me?”
“Yeah, sorry… I just…”
Just then there was a loud screeching sound as Archimedes came drifting through the open window above the sink. He landed promptly on the table- right in the middle of the chessboard. Kings, Queens, bishops, and rooks went flying in all directions as he folded his wings inward and began to clean his chest feathers. Charlie’s pupils narrowed at the bird when he noticed how round the owl’s belly looked. The wizard gave him a rough smack on the bottom and Archimedes leaped up, his tail feathers ruffling as he spun his head around to glare at his owner.
“Archimedes, you fat thing! Did you chase rats instead of going on the quest?!”
The owl, looking quite offended, shook his head- much to Augusta Longbottom’s shock.
“There’s no way you’d be back so soon! Archimedes, I’m absolutely disgusted with you!”
The owl fluffed up his feathers until he was twice his normal size. He flapped his wings and lifted into the air. He turned to Charlie, smacked his beak on his master’s face, then turned and flew out the window with an indecent amount of hooting that sounded a lot like avian profanity. Groaning in disappointment and defeat, Charlie dropped his head against the table.
“Good for nothing, lazy, gluttonous, ungrateful…”
“Helpful, highly intelligent bird,” Augusta cut off the Weasley with a shake of her head. She sighed, pushed to her feet, and patted Charlie on the back. “Well. Now what do we do?”
“Kill time, I suppose,” Charlie murmured against the table miserably. “I guess we can check the disappearance sites again…”
“Come on then, Charlie! Up and at em.” Augusta looped her arm through his own and hauled him backward out of the chair. Charlie barely even had time to mutter a yip of surprise before there was a loud ‘crack’ and the two of them were gone.
…
Charlie landed wrong on his left foot and groaned in pain as he straightened up and pushed some of his wild hair back out of his face. Augusta, who was perpetually crisp and proper, looked perfectly acceptable as always like she hadn’t (literally) just dropped out of the sky. She glanced around in all directions and the Weasley boy followed her lead. His eyes darkened when he realized they were standing where the entrance to Hogwarts used to be. He sighed and stared out across the empty field; the grassy area now overran with wild weeds and bright spring flowers.
“Looks just like it did the last time,” Charlie told her dryly with a shake of his head. Despite his unmotivated words, he began to walk alongside her as Augusta used the end of her wand to swipe left and right to clear their way. “What are you hoping to find out here? One of Neville’s shoelaces hidden in the sawgrass?”
“Anything,” she replied softly and Charlie winced, mad at himself for projecting his poor attitude onto the still grieving grandmother.
“Sorry…”
“Don’t be. I understand. You’re just thinking rationally,” she replied with another swish of her wand. “But I think we had to throw rationality out the door when an entire school, town, and manor just wiped themselves off the face of the planet.”
“They’re here somewhere,” he retorted with a bit of warmth in his voice this time. “Neville’s too good and brave. He’s figuring out something right now- whatever it might be. He’ll find his way back to you, Augusta. He’d never abandon you, or his mum or dad…” Just then, Charlie’s gaze completely softened as he pulled his wand and began to mirror the older witch’s movement. “In speaking of- have you visited Frank and Alice lately?”
He saw her nod ever so slightly.
“How… how are they?”
“Alice keeps bringing me gum wrappers and saying ‘boy’ over and over again. On occasion, Frank will seem really upset that I come by myself… I think they know something is wrong. I’ve told them he’s missing, but they don’t understand…” Augusta was quiet for some time as she spun on her heels in the sea of overgrown greenery. “This is a lost cause. I say we check where Hogsmeade used to be.”
“I agree. We can meander over to the spot the Shrieking Shack once stood- investigate it a bit. See if we missed anything.” He offered his arm to Augusta and she took it pointedly. Matching stride for stride, the two of them took off through the wild field of weeds and made their way toward the vacant place where Hogsmeade Village once stood.
Once their feet found the cracked, neglected stone path that led from the school to the town, Charlie risked a slight glance at his companion and smiled softly. “So… Neville Longbottom.”
“What about him?” she asked cooly without looking at him.
“I just don’t know much about him. Much about anyone besides Harry and the lot, really. I was just… curious about him was all. Figured it might make you warm and fuzzy to talk about him a bit.”
Augusta scowled down her long, hooked nose at him as they walked along. “Neville is a Gryffindor. Subpar in most subjects, but did quite well in Herbology. Last I was informed, he wanted to learn extensively about plants and perhaps even teach…” her voice dropped a bit and Charlie side-eyed her. He noticed her eyes were glossy, but he didn’t comment on it. “He’ll be a fine professor someday. Hogwarts will be lucky to have him.”
“No girlfriend? Boyfriend? Both?”
This time, August moved to smack him on the back of the head and Charlie- who was used to this maneuver by now- ducked swiftly out of the way. He leaned back up with a mischievous grin on his face. “So it is both.”
“Neville had no time for such things! He was focused on his studies.”
“He’s still a teenaged boy, Augusta! Or was, at least, when the school went missing. I know it was roughly 6.2 billion years ago, but surely you remember what it was like to be young and filled with desire? You surely don’t believe that Neville has never had a romantic inkling in his entire life? I know you’re not that dimwitted.”
Augusta’s lips were pressed in a firm, hard line. She didn’t look at him, nor reply in any way, as they drew nearer to where Hogsmeade had once stood. Charlie took her silence with a genuine stroke of his good nature and chuckled. But then another thought came to him and some of the humor died from his eyes. He gave her hand a little squeeze. “I know he’s the last of his line.” He saw her jaw set harder, but she didn’t flinch. She nodded but Charlie knew he’d entered dangerous waters. He’d spent enough time with Augusta Longbottom that he fancied he understood her better than most people alive. He knew her longing looked like anger, and her sorrow felt like rage.
“I’m not going to stop until I bring your boy home to you. I promise.”
She stopped walking and turned to face him. He thought he saw the faintest flicker of gratitude on her tired face. She nodded then patted his arm and that was as good as any grand show of thanks. The two carried on in silence until they reached the blank field where the wizarding village once stood. Charlie looked around and rubbed the back of his neck. A warm smile spread across his face as he glanced at the place where Zonko’s Joke Shop had been. In the aftermath of his family’s disappearance, he’d taken over liberty of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley. However, being the leader of the H.R.B. and running his business back in Romania meant that he didn’t have a lot of time on his hands to dedicate to the shop. I hope Fred and George can forgive me for neglecting their legacy…
“Charlie?” The Weasley blinked. He realized suddenly that he’d been standing still, staring at where Zonko’s used to be as he thought about his brothers. He gave himself a little shake and glanced over at Augusta as a soft smile graced his face.
“Sorry… Got lost in my head.”
“There’s nothing here,” she told him in a soft but stern voice as she used her foot to nudge away a bit of trodden grass. “Just old memories come to haunt us. Should we head back to The Burrow?”
“We’ve come this far,” Charlie responded with a low, defeated sigh. “Might as well check the manor again.” Augusta looped her arm back through his own and they were gone with a ‘crack’.
…
“Place gives me the creeps even with the castle gone,” Charlie muttered as he walked through the vacant lot that once held Malfoy Manor. Augusta untwined her arm from his own and crossed them over her chest as she kicked away some creeping vines that snaked their way across the grounds. She looked around in every direction and only saw shadowy forest for as far as her eyes could see.
“There’s definitely a dark energy about the place.”
“Something always tickles me funny when we come here,” the younger man called as he retraced his steps back to the spot where he’d found their singular clue. A frustrating conundrum. A dead end. Where Beauty and the Beast had laid on the disturbed earth was now overgrown with unruly vines and unkept grass. Charlie crouched down on the balls of his feet and began to pluck the foliage away. “I don’t know. It’s this weird sense. This burning… like there’s something I should know.”
“Cursed place,” Augusta muttered, rubbing her arms as if she’d taken a chill. But the sun was shining and the day was warm- something that contradicted the goosebumps raising on her skin. Charlie’s eyebrows furrowed when he saw a bit of scorched earth underneath the woven chaos of grass. He waved a hand to the older witch and she walked over to him on unsteady feet. Charlie gave her his arm to help balance her and she lowered herself down into the grass beside him. Augusta’s eyes hardened as she placed her gnarled fingers on the patch of dark soil. “What in Merlin’s name?...”
“Dark magic?” Charlie asked with a raised eyebrow. Augusta nodded, her eyes cold. “What does it mean?...”
“I don’t know. It could be nothing, Charlie. The manor’s bloodlines ran thick with both Malfoy and Black heritage and traditions. It’s hard saying what kind of unholy things happened on this land…”
“No, you don’t understand,” Charlie said to her in a desperate voice. “This exact spot is where I found that book.”
“The muggle children’s story?”
“Yes!”
“But, Charlie, that doesn’t…”
“It matters. I don’t know why. But it does. It matters. That book is important and the fact that this spot is scorched… Augusta, I can’t explain it, but I just know. Please trust me.”
“I do. I do…” She placed a shaky hand on his shoulder. “Where is it now? The book?”
“At the Burrow. In Ron’s roo- in my study,” he replied quickly as his heart hammered in his chest. He closed his eyes and they were gone.
…
Charlie landed on his feet and took off running toward the house. Augusta followed as quickly on his heels as she could. He took the steps of the inner staircase two at a time until he was in the second highest room in the house. He burst through the door and hurried through the mess, shuffling through layers of papers and empty beer bottles. Augusta caught up with him just as he made his way over to the bookshelf and found Beauty and the Beast cracked open on the floor. Charlie picked up the tattered novel with a confused look on his face just as Archimedes came fluttering back in the window. The owl landed on the corner of the desk and tilted his head.
“Archimedes,” Charlie greeted his friend lightly and extended a hand to him. The bird hopped up onto his wrist and churred, their disagreement from earlier clearly forgotten as he bopped his head against his master’s chest. Charlie glanced from the owl to the book then back again. Archimedes made a chirping sound and inclined his head toward Beauty and the Beast.
“Archimedes…” Charlie repeated as he shook the book at his owl. “Did you come here? Did you knock this from the shelf?” The owl nodded and Augusta closed the space between them. She placed a hand on Charlie’s shoulder again. They were both holding their breath as the owl stretched himself out across his master’s hands and knocked his beak against the book. “Archimedes… did the spell bring you here?” Charlie asked in a small, shaky voice. The owl nodded. “To this?” He showed him the book and Archimedes nodded again. Charlie glanced at Augusta and handed it to her.
The older witch cracked the novel open and her mouth twitched. She glanced up at her companion then turned the book around to face him. “Charlie… is it just me… or does this girl right here look like Hermione Granger?”
Charlie’s mouth ran dry. He stared at the open pages and noticed, very faintly, the slightest splash of a drop of orange elixir along the spine on the book. His eyes focused on the woman in the worn picture and he tilted his head to the side as he took the novel from Augusta’s hands. He stared at it for a long time with his heart pounding in his chest. He squinted, rubbed his eyes, looked away, then back again. But the picture was all the same. Thrown across a luxurious bed with emerald sheets was a hauntingly familiar woman with bushy hair, soft eyes, a heart-shaped face, and… a scar across her arm that read the word ‘mudblood’.
Notes:
I'm out of town this weekend but we'll be back hard in the paint next week! I love y'all and I'll see you then. <3
Chapter 7: A Night in the Castle
Summary:
{Hermione and Draco}
Our girl gets settled into her new home and gets better acquainted with her captor. Some things start unravelling and Hermione has already realized that perhaps not everything in this world is exactly as it seems.
Notes:
Woohoo for the plot moving right along.
As promised, here's an updated list of our waitstaff:
The Beast/The Prince- Draco Malfoy (obviously)
Lumière/The Candelabra- Lucius Malfoy
Plumette/The Feather Duster- Narcissa Malfoy
Cogsworth/The Clock- Peter Pettigrew
Mrs. Potts/The Teakettle- Molly Weasley
Chip(Chippette)/The Teacup- Ginny Weasley
Madame Garderobe/The Wardrobe- Andromeda Tonks
Maestro Cadenza/The Piano- Ted Tonks
(Ella)/The Umbrella Stand- Nymphadora Tonks
(Minnie)/The Coat Rack- Minerva McGonagall
Froufrou/The Piano Stool- Sirius Black
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Hermione threw herself across the four-poster bed inside her chamber and sobbed. She cried and cried and cried until she was nearly sick from the force. What felt like hours later, she eventually managed to pull herself together. She sat up in the silky emerald sheets and wiped at her sticky eyes with shaking hands. Hermione glanced around the room, trying to take in her surroundings. The space was beautiful- decorated with silver artifacts and highlighted in various shades of green. However, the room was incredibly dusty and she could tell that no one had been inside of it for quite some time.
She pushed to her feet and strode across the room to the window. Hermione peered out of it and realized she was up far too high to climb down. If only I could remember half of what I learned at Hogwarts, maybe I could use something to escape… She was lost deep in her thoughts when suddenly a sound from the hallway pulled her from her mind. She heard faint squealing and giggling and it snagged her curiosity. Hermione tiptoed over to the door and slid to her knees. She peered through the keyhole, feeling a bit too unnerved to open the door, and what she saw in the corridor nearly stole her breath away.
The candelabra that she’d seen her captor holding was suddenly alive, brushed in beautiful notes of bronze and brown. He was dancing around in a circle, holding what appeared to be a feather duster very close to his metallic body- careful not to let the fires on his hands and head touch her delicate plumage. The duster herself had wing-like arms wrapped around his neck and was giggling madly as he twirled her again and again to distantly playing piano music.
“Just so lovely, Plumette. Perfect Plumette,” he purred as he kissed the white handle of her face.
Hermione wasn’t sure why, but her cheeks flushed red as she felt like she was intruding on quite a private, intimate moment. The duster giggled and swiped at the candlestick with her bottom feathers. “Oh, Lumiere. You know I love a man who can flatter me.”
“How about a candelabra who can worship you, my dearest Plumette?”
“Oh, but I’ve been burned by you before…”
“Nothing you haven’t liked, my darling…”
“Pathetic, aren’t they?” A woman’s voice from somewhere inside the room made Hermione jump. She leapt to her feet and spun around, her eyes wide and chest heaving. But there was no one there. She flicked her wand nervously and tilted her head.
“Lumos.” Instantly the room filled with a dull grayish light that formed from the end of her wand. She waved it all around the room but still saw nothing. “Wh-Who’s there?”
“Over here, dear. The wardrobe.” Hermione turned toward the kindly voice and stood facing a large white and emerald chest of drawers with a mirrored vanity. It was just then that she noticed face-like markings on the glass that shifted into a warm smile. “Nice to make your acquaintance, my lady! Would you like a change of clothes?”
“My… what?” Hermione sunk to the floor, sitting cross-legged upon the marble as she stared at the wardrobe with a disbelieving look on her face. “Is… is everything in the castle alive?”
“Not everything, of course not,” the dresser told her kindly. “But a lot of things, yes!” There came a sound of dramatic smooching from the hallway and the wardrobe rolled her painted eyes. “Goodness, quite indecent the two of them. Can never keep their hands off each other.” But then she looked suddenly very sad- if a painted chest of drawers could look sad. “But I can’t say I don’t understand. My dearest Maestro is downstairs- you can hear him playing that beautiful music. But, you see, I am wedged so tightly between the pillars here, I cannot escape to see him. I can only hear his lovely piano… sometimes I’ll sing to him and it’s how we communicate. I miss him so dearly.”
“Were you always a wardrobe?” Hermione asked curiously and the dresser smiled a bit at her. “And your Maestro a piano?”
“Oh, no. We were people once. Just like Lumiere and Plumette. Just like everyone else in the castle- even the Prince.”
“What happened?...”
“Oh, wonderful! I see that you two are acquainted!” The breathy voice caught Hermione’s attention. She looked over her shoulder just as the candelabra came waltzing into her room with the feather duster- who now had a few singed ends of down- twirling right after him. “Welcome to our home, Hermione! I am Lumiere. This is my wife- Plumette.”
“Pleasure,” the young witch said with a soft smile as the feather duster flittered up into the air and began to knock some cobwebs off the chandelier in the middle of her room.
“Now don’t you worry about the grime. I’ll have this place all spik and span in a blink.”
“Did someone say it’s time for tea?” called a voice from outside the door.
“No!” laughed the feather duster. “I said ‘in a blink’!” Just then, a trolly came rolling in with a teakettle and teacup atop it. Warm painted eyes stared up at Hermione from the tray as the cart screeched to a stop in front of her.
“Oh, a cup of tea will do her well all the same. Pleasure to meet you, Miss! I’m Mrs. Potts. This is my daughter- Chipette. Everyone just calls her Chip.” The teacup scooted forward on its saucer and smiled up at Hermione kindly.
“Perhaps a spot of something warm before dinner?” asked Chip and something about the tenderness in her voice struck Hermione immediately as familiar. She picked up the cup and sipped from the side that didn’t have a notch out of the porcelain. Perfect Earl Grey soothed the back of her scratchy throat and eased some of the discomfort from where she’d been crying. She smiled gratefully at all her company as Plumette drifted around and dusted off the cobwebs and grime.
“I do appreciate everything you’ve done, all of you, but I won’t be going down to dinner. I would rather die than join someone like that at a table.”
Lumiere looked instantly unnerved and glanced over at Mrs. Potts. “But, mademoiselle, the master is insisting…”
“And I am insisting that I shall not go,” Hermione replied simply as she finished off her tea then sat Chipette back down on her saucer. She glanced over at the dresser and smiled softly. “I think I’ll stay in my room, if it’s all the same to you lot.”
Lumiere looked as if he might start vomiting chunks of wax all over the floor. He dipped into a low bow to Hermione then jumped up on the bottom layer of Mrs. Pott’s tea trolly. The two of them took off down the corridor and the door shut behind them.
…
The Snake paced in the drawing room, running his claws through the marred wallpaper and ruined dark wood. Of all the spaces in the house- spare for the West Wing- this one was his least favorite. He’d never been sure why. Shards of a shattered chandelier lay on the floor and the broken, dilapidated remains of once luxurious furniture were strewn across the broken pieces. His eyes traveled over to a tattered rug in the center of the floor. Something about the mat had always made him uncomfortable. Like it holds an unsavory memory…
“My prince?” The serpent lifted his head, snapped from his thoughts, as Mrs. Potts and Lumiere entered the drawing room on her trolly. He turned to them hopefully, but his flicker of rapture died out when neither the candlestick nor the teapot would meet his gaze.
“Well?”
“The girl refuses to come down,” Mrs. Potts said after a moment. “She has respectfully declined.”
“Declined?!” The Snake hissed and his servants flinched away from him. “But I gave her an order!”
“And what kind of person does it show that you are?” Mrs. Potts snapped back. “Demanding the poor girl around when she’s had such a rough go of things. She’s lost her father and her freedom in one day. Perhaps asserting yourself wasn’t the correct call.”
“If I don’t demand, she’ll never comply!” The prince argued. “Look at me, Mrs. Potts! She’s… so beautiful. And I?...” He turned away from her and dropped his head into his ready hands. “I’m a monster.”
“No, you aren’t, master,” Lumiere said gently as he placed an unlit hand on the serpent’s scaly leg. “Just… a bit rough around the edges, is all. She could still learn to love you.”
“How could anyone?” the Snake murmured and the teakettle and candelabra exchanged a worried glance. Then a determination lit in Mrs. Potts’ eyes and she lifted her pouring spout.
“Well, if you’re going to have any chance of convincing her to come down for dinner- or trust you at all- we need to refresh your social skills a bit. Straighten up for me. Stand nice and tall.” The prince did as he was bade and his height reached well over seven feet from the bottoms of his feet to the top of his head. She nodded silently as Lumiere pitched in a thought.
“Be polite! Charming. Demure. Let me see that million-galleon smile, hm?” When the Beast flashed a mouthful of jagged snake’s fangs, Lumiere flinched slightly. “Maybe not so much with your teeth showing… Just curl your lips?” He loosened the smile a bit. “Oh, much better.”
“Be gentle,” Mrs. Potts added and the prince nodded at her enthusiastically.
“Don’t forget to compliment her!” Lumiere agreed.
“Be calm.”
“Be welcoming.
“And above all else…” they said together when they noticed how annoyed the serpent was starting to look as his tail lashed from side to side. “You must control your temper!” Just then, there was a soft fluttering sound as Plumette flittered in from the corridor. She swung herself into Lumiere’s arms and the candelabra caught her with a loud, obnoxious smooch of brass against porcelain. The feather duster looked up at the prince with uncertain eyes and sighed.
“She still won’t come down.”
“What?!” Snapped the Snake and all of his previous coaching was instantly forgotten. He went slithering from the room with all the haste of a much smaller reptile but with all the lethality of what he truly was. The enchanted creatures gasped and went racing after him as he wound his way through the castle, up the stairs, and coiled himself in front of Hermione’s door. He banged his fist upon it and Plumette covered the place where her ears would be with two long, dusty feathers. “I ordered you to come down for dinner!”
“I’m not hungry!” she snapped back and he hissed in aggravation.
“It isn’t an option, Hermione! You’ll either come out or I’ll break down the bloody door!”
“Do as you please, it’s your castle!”
The retort made the prince’s reptilian pupils narrow. He glanced down at his staff and they all flinched away from him- now joined by the clock, an umbrella in a stand, and the coat rack from the front door. He gestured toward the room and Lumiere palmed his forehead with his left candlestick.
“Master, that may still be too aggressive, hm?...”
“Try to calm yourself. Just a smidge,” the clock suggested. Some of the anger fled from the serpent’s face, but when he spoke again, it was still through gritted teeth.
“But she’s being so stubborn.”
“Nothing wrong with a headstrong woman,” Lumiere commented as he lifted his hands and Plumette smacked him with her bottom feathers. “Try again, my prince.”
“Gently,” Mrs. Potts encouraged and he nodded. The serpent turned toward the door and softly placed his palm upon the wooden surface.
“Hermione,” he began in a calculated, tender voice that shook more than he meant for it to. “Will you come down to dinner?”
“No.”
The Beast stomped his clawed foot and it sent his staff reeling back against the wall.
“Sauve! Demure! Gentle!” called the clock as he ducked behind the tea trolly. The prince leaned his head back, ran his hands across his scaly face, and pooled all of his concentration to the center of his mind. He straightened up and practiced a small bow as if she could see him.
“It would… give me great pleasure… if you would join me for dinner, Hermione…” he hissed through gritted teeth. His staff leaned in when silence walled up between them. “Please.”
“I said no!” Perhaps it was the snarl in her voice that did it. Either way, anger boiled over on the prince’s face as he slammed his hands against the door and it caused the entire wall to shake.
“You can’t stay in there forever! You ungrateful thing!”
“I can and I will! You can watch me! I’ll die alone in this room before I dine with you!”
“Master, please…” Lumiere took a step forward and the Beast’s head snapped over at him. He bared those snake fangs toward the candelabra and he jumped back away from the prince’s jaws.
“Then you can stay in there and starve!” he screamed as he turned his lidded gaze upon his staff. “If she doesn’t eat with me- she doesn’t eat at all!” And with that, the snake took off down the corridor, slithering across the ground before leaping upon a banister and disappearing from their sight. The enchanted creatures deflated and Plumette shook her head.
“Oh, dear… that didn’t go well at all.”
“You should have known it wouldn’t!” snapped the clock as he gave himself a shake. “The Master is far too unpredictable for such things as being ‘demure’ and ‘gentle’…”
“Bet you wouldn’t say that to his face.” Lumiere pushed the timepiece and the clock screeched at him. He shoved him back and then the two of them were slapping at each other’s trinket hands like children fighting over candy. Plumette and Mrs. Potts rolled their eyes.
“Ahem! Boys!” The two stopped wrestling at the teakettle’s call, Lumiere melting wax across the clock’s glass face. The candle pulled away from his rival and walked over to the door. He saluted Mrs. Potts with a serious expression.
“I’ll take the first watch.”
“Let me know if anything changes,” said the clock as he, the umbrella, and the coat rack headed back toward the stairs. Mrs. Potts hung her head and sighed as she pushed her trolly along in the same direction her master went.
…
In the destroyed remains of the West Wing, the prince sat in a nest of dried animal bones and shredded clothing. He shivered as cold wind blew in from the open window, but he made no move to close it or turn away from the biting air. He had his knees tucked up to his chest, the enchanted mirror in his hand, as he stared at a table closer to the balcony. Upon it was a glass cloche and underneath it, a wilting silver rose was planted in a small mound of soil. All around the flower, there were fallen, decaying petals that were crumpled and nearly black. He watched, horrified, as another floral leaf fell and landed in the dirt. The moment it made contact, the entire castle shook and groaned. The prince felt himself cool further and part of his mind disconnected. It’s happening again. I’m losing more and more of myself, of who I used to be… Whoever that was…
“Master?” Mrs. Potts’ kind voice caught the serpent off guard. He glanced over his shoulder as her trolly came wheeling slowly through the carnage of the room. He blinked gratefully as the teapot hopped onto his shoulder and placed her warm porcelain body against his chilled cheek. “You’re freezing in here, dear… you need to get somewhere warmer.”
“I wanted to be here,” he replied simply and she sighed.
“You hate this room.”
“I do. But it’s the only place I feel… like the monster I am belongs…” He turned the mirror in his hand and stared at the reflective surface- seeing first his own hideous face. He hissed through his teeth and shook his head. “Show me the girl…” The mirror shimmered and Hermione appeared before him. She was sitting on the bed in her room, braiding three pieces of fabric together as Chipette yapped on and on to her about the happenings of castle life. The wardrobe was talking too, and occasionally Hermione would answer her around the conversation she was having with the teacup.
“The master truly isn’t so bad once you get to know him. I really wish you’d just give him another chance. It’s been a long time since he’s been around anyone besides us.”
“Give him a chance?!” Hermione gasped, looking up from her braid to eye the chest of drawers with an incredulous expression on her face. “He kidnapped my father! For stealing a rose- of all things. He sent him away from me before I could even say goodbye. I’m his prisoner, if you’ve forgotten. He demanded I join him for dinner then screamed at me when I refused. Why would I want to get to know someone like that?”
“Well, sure. Anything sounds bad when you say it like that,” Chip chuckled and Hermione eyed her fondly. “We just think you should at least try…”
“I don’t want anything to do with him,” the witch said finally as she finished her braid. “I’ll keep the company of the servants. And that will just have to hold me over until forever ends.”
The prince had heard enough. He turned the mirror away from himself and sighed. He laid it down beside him and dropped his face into his hands. Mrs. Potts nuzzled his cheek comfortingly with her pouring spout. “Oh, love…”
“She’s right though, isn’t she?” he murmured through his scaled palms. “I’m a monster… Just a monster…”
…
Unable to sleep, Hermione stayed up talking to the wardrobe- who she found out was named Garderobe- and Chip way into the late hours of the night. It was sometime well after one when she heard the unmistakable sounds of Lumiere ravishing Plumette in kisses (and probably other things, as much as a candle can to a feather duster). She crawled over to the keyhole and peered out of it just in time to see the couple disappear behind a curtain as Plumette let out little trilled giggles of delight. Chipette rolled her painted eyes and made a sour face from where she sat on Hermione’s shoulder.
“Revolting, aren’t they?”
“I don’t know, I think it’s rather sweet,” commented the witch with a small smile. “Aren’t we all just looking for our Lumiere?...”
“Do you have anyone back in the village?” Garderobe asked curiously. Hermione thought of Ron and instantly scrunched up her nose.
“Not hardly. There’s no one in that town for me,” she murmured as her stomach growled. Hermione rubbed her arm thoughtfully and glanced over at the chest of drawers. I have a feeling they wouldn’t let me out of the room if it disobeyed direct orders. But Merlin, I’m hungry… think, Hermione. Think. “Madame,” she began after a while. “I know I’m not meant to leave the room, but I was wondering if a bath could be arranged. I’d desperately love to get clean.”
“Well, the master just said you couldn’t dine. He never said anything about hygiene. I think we can arrange for that.” The dresser gave a little shake and out popped a black nightgown and an emerald-colored robe. Hermione caught them gratefully. “Towels are in the washroom. Chip, would you show her?”
“Gladly! We’re gonna go down the hall to the right, Hermione,” the teacup whispered and the witch smiled softly to herself. She pushed to her feet and carefully opened the door. Lumiere and Plumette seemed so into one another- and whatever the hell was happening behind the curtain- that they didn’t notice the soft creaking of the door as Hermione clicked it shut. She took Chip in her hands to keep the cup from clinking against her saucer as she headed in the direction of the washroom. Once they were there, Chip wriggled out of her hands and landed neatly upon Hermione’s shoe before bouncing onto the ground. She looked up at her with those brightly painted eyes. “Now I’ll be waiting for you out here. When you’re done, how about we sneak on down to the kitchen and see what’s still hot?” she teased and Hermione beamed at her, once again struck by the notion that the little cup was very familiar to her. Something sparked in her mind and the words came out before she could stop them.
“Thanks, Gin.”
The teacup stared up at Hermione and Hermione stared down at her. An odd sensation, something akin to Déjà vu, crept into the spaces between them. Hermione tilted her head as Chip blinked her painted eyes and gave herself a little shake on her saucer.
“R-Right. Anyway. I’ll be out here when you’re done.”
“Okay…” Hermione smiled kindly and tried to ignore the fact that her head was starting to hurt. She opened the door and stepped inside the washroom- eager to end the odd moment as candles instantly lit along the walls. She looked all around and drew a deep breath, amazed once again by the stunning architecture work inside the castle. The room wasn’t overly big but was larger than anything she was used to. An obsidian clawfoot tub near one wall had the rim of a serpent and pegs like talons. She laid her robe and nightgown across the sink and carefully began to peel off the layers of her sweaty, dirty clothes. As she kicked them aside, she placed a hand on the tub and instantly the waterspouts began to pour.
Hermione tried to make sense of some of the things in the room as the tub filled up. There were pictures of various magical creatures, framed bits of written scripts she couldn’t translate, and dozens of flowerpots filled with long-dead plants. How long has it been since anyone’s been here… Hermione glanced down at the water and saw it had risen to a good level. She placed her fingers in it and sighed at the warmth that graced her skin. She sank into the tub and closed her eyes, letting the hot water climb up her body until it was under her nose. She pitched her eyebrows at the smell of rich spices, something like cinnamon with notes of oak and woodsmoke. Hermione’s hair drifted around her in damp waves of chocolate ribbons as she tilted her head back and tried to relax. Her body eased. Her mind wandered…
Her head suddenly throbbed when slices of unplaced memory scored through the darkness of the back of her eyelids. She heard herself screaming as she hid under a sink when a giant troll came barreling through the bathroom. She saw her own hands using a mirror to look around corners with her heart pounding in her chest. Then she was placing something around her neck- a trinket that looked like an hourglass. Dancing in a periwinkle blue dress with a stranger. She saw a terrible short woman wearing all pink, smiling down at her. Then she was crying. Someone had broken her heart. Is that Ronald kissing Lavender Brown?! She was screaming again. Someone was holding her down. She was in so much pain.
{“What else did you take from my vault?!”}
Hermione’s left arm burned. She bolted upward in the water when she realized she’d nodded off and her head had slipped under. She gasped for air and looked all around, confusion and worry clouding her sight as tears welled in her eyes. The bathwater clouded pink and she glanced over, shocked to see her scar was open and bleeding. I’d nearly forgotten it… She used her right hand to race over the ugly word that marred the flesh between the bend of her elbow and her wrist.
“Mudblood,” she murmured, watching curiously as a droplet of blood rolled off her arm and into the water. Another flash of pain scorched through her skull and caused spots in her vision. She saw in her mind just then, a plainly beautiful young boy with white hair and silver eyes. He was dressed in fine Quidditch gear and had malice on his face as his pale, pink lips pulled into a snarl.
{“No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood.”}
Hermione blinked hard and pressed her wrists to her pounding temples. Her skull felt as if it might crack open from all the building pressure. A name, very distant as if she’d read it in a book long ago, came to her. It made her head throb and her heart race. The scar on her arm burned as Hermione gritted her teeth when his voice echoed in her mind once more. No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood. She splashed water on herself again and again until the aching in her head subsided. When the pain finally left her, she grabbed a loofa that materialized on the water spicket and began to numbly scrub the blood and dirt from her body.
She kept her gaze fixed on the scar on her arm as some of the unsavory thoughts started to fade from her mind. By the time she’d cleaned herself, dried her body and her hair, and dressed in the nightgown and robe, nearly all the painful, jarring memories were forgotten. All but one. Hermione stared at her reflection in the mirror as she dragged a silver brush through her wild chocolate hair. Just like earlier with Chip, the words fell from her mouth without her meaning to as she turned for the door.
“Who the hell is Draco Malfoy?”
Notes:
I'm actually really proud of this chapter. I hope y'all enjoy your journey to the stars. <3
Chapter 8: My, What a Guy!...
Summary:
{Ron, Harry, and Hagrid}
Ron gets a confidence boost- credit for such goes to a very infatuated Neville Longbottom.
Harry starts to doubt the true character of his best friend... and perhaps realizes something isn't right.
Hagrid pleads for help to save his daughter and ends up in a dire situation inside the Forbidden Forest... until an unexpected ally comes to save him.
Notes:
This chapter is CURSED. Revoke my fanfiction license. Never let me touch a keyboard again. What the hell even is this...
I literally kept groaning at myself as I wrote the song sequence. So cringy. So horrible. It's absolutely vile...
And I love it.
(Low-key, if you don't have a friend who will adore you like Lefou does Gaston... you now what, bro is kind of toxic, so never mind but... good man, I suppose...)
Y'all drink some water, okay? And enjoy your journey to the stars! <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
{IT'S LITERALLY STILL WEDNESDAY, MAY 8TH, 2002}
Ron sat in the Hog’s Head with a grim look on his face. He downed his third shot of Firewhisky, leaned his head against the back of his favorite chair, and closed his eyes. Heeled loyally to his side were his faithful friends- Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter. Harry was trimming Ron’s fingernails as Neville kneaded the arches of his feet. Harry tried very hard not to notice the absolutely adoring look on Neville’s face as he stared up at the man they both followed. Ron exhaled all the air in his lungs and kicked his feet in exasperation, accidently knocking Neville’s hands away as he did.
“What’s up with him?” Neville whispered to Harry and he swallowed hard as he tilted his head toward his companion.
“Hermione rejected his proposal.”
Neville looked as if Harry had struck him. “He proposed to her?...”
“What doesn’t she see in me?” Ron whined, having not quite heard the conversation between his friends but had understood enough to know they’d said her name. He opened his eyes and glanced down at his fellow Gryffindors. “She said she’d never marry me! Am I not good enough?”
“Ron, don’t ever say that!” Neville protested and Harry side-eyed him with enough vigor to pop his neck as his head cocked to the side. Damn, Longbottom! Be cool. “You’re the best guy in town. And… and…” He shook his head. “Gosh, it disturbs me to see you, my Ron, looking so down in the dumps…” Neville’s voice held a bit of a tune as he gave Harry a shove. Potter’s mouth hung askew as he gestured toward Ron and cleared his throat. Harry rolled his eyes and leaned back on his stool, abandoning his work on Ron’s nailbeds.
“Every guy here’d love to be you, my Ron. Even when taking your lumps,” he added dryly as he glanced around the room. Harry was aware that Fred and George, Ron’s twin older brothers, were watching the trio from the bar with an amused look on their faces. George raised an eyebrow as he took a sip from his cup of ale.
“There’s no man in town as admired as you. You’re everyone’s favorite guy,” Neville continued, abandoning the pampering of Ron’s feet as he hopped to a standing position. Ron didn’t seem to be giving him the light of day and was staring at the flickering flame in the hearth as Neville reached inside his pocket and tossed a few sickles to listening bystanders to get their attention. “Everyone’s awed and inspired by you. And it’s not very hard to see why…” Finally Ron turned to face Neville as his friend jumped up on the nearest table- much to the absolute displeasure of Aberforth. Neville glared at Harry and he admitted defeat. He slid his hands into his pockets and, stealthily, began walking around the room to hand out sickles and galleons.
“No one’s…” Neville stomped his foot on the table. “Slick as our Ron, no one’s quick as our Ron. No one’s neck’s as incredibly thick as our Ron!”
“There’s no man in town half as manly,” Harry added begrudgingly as he slapped five galleons a piece into the twins’ hands. Ever doting and infatuated, Lavender and Pavarti turned down Harry’s money to gawk over Ron of their own accord.
“Perfect- a pure paragon.”
“You can ask any Fred, George, or Percy…” Neville jeered as he pointed to each of Ron’s older brothers and all three of them held expressions of the greatest distaste. “And they’ll tell you whose team they prefer to be on. Who plays…”
“Darts like our Ron!” cried half the room as Harry finished bribing them.
“Who breaks…!”
“Hearts like our Ron!” finished the other half as Neville tossed coins at them over Ron’s head.
“Who’s much more than the sum of his parts like our Ron?” he laughed as he hopped down off the table and made his way across the room to his friend again. Ron now had a very interested look on his face as he leaned forward in his chair.
“As a specimen, yes, I’m intimidating,” he added as he flexed his arms and Percy nearly choked on his beer. Fred slapped him on the back to clear his airway as Neville clapped his hands.
“My, what a guy, that’s our Ron!” Everyone cheered.
Ron was on his feet in an instant and grabbed Neville by the shoulder. Harry placed his hands on his hips in exasperation as Ron gave his heeler a spin. “Well, I needed encouragement. Thank you, my man!”
“Well there’s no one as easy to bolster as… as… as…” Neville paused an inch from Ron’s face and his cheeks flushed red. He licked his dry lips as Ron’s bright blue eyes seared into him. “Uhm… uh…”
“Too much, Neville old pal…” Harry whispered as he grabbed his companion by the wrist and yanked him back into the crowd to continue the show.
“No one…”
“Fights like our Ron!”
“Douses lights like our Ron!”
“In a wrestling match, nobody bites like our Ron!” Neville cried as he showed off a ring of purple bruises in the shape of teeth on his arm. Harry eyed him curiously and glanced around to see if anyone else thought it was fucking weird that he had it. He locked eyes with Fred across the room and the Weasley just laughed and lifted his mug into the air.
Ron had now leaped up onto the bar top and was taking a few steps forward as if he was stalking prey. “When I hunt, I sneak up with my quiver. And beasts of the field say a prayer.”
“Yes?” Lavender panted as she leaned across the counter. “And then?”
“First I carefully aim for the liver. Then I shoot from behind.”
“Is that fair?” Pavarti asked and Ron shrugged.
“I don’t care!”
“No one hits like our Ron!” George screamed as he downed his ale.
“Matches wit like our Ron…” Percy added begrudgingly.
“In a spitting match, nobody spits like our Ron!” Neville jeered as he slid across the tavern on his knees. Harry took a seat at the bar beside his companion’s trio of brothers with a look of pure curiosity on his face as he ran his hands through his hair.
“I’m especially good at expectorating…” Ron drew in a deep breath and spat, sending a bullet of saliva across the room and into the hearth.
“Ten points for our Ron!” Everyone cheered as Fred leaned over to Harry.
“Remember the time he burped slugs for three days? Not so good at expectorating then, hmm?”
Harry’s eye twitched. Do I remember that?...
He glanced over just in time to see Ron pick up Lavender and put her on his shoulder as her face flushed with color. “When I was a lad, I ate four dozen eggs every morning to help me get large…” Much to Harry’s surprise, he slid her into his arms and lifted her up over his head like a groom carrying a bride. “And now that I’m grown I eat five dozen eggs so I’m roughly the size of a…”
“Jackass. Roughly the size of a jackass,” Percy mumbled and George slapped him on the back. Harry’s eye twitched again as he handed Aberforth a galleon and got himself a pitcher of ale. Everyone around the room started clapping and pounding their feet as Ron slid Lavender out of his grasp. He jumped off the bar top and began dancing in a steady circle with Neville.
“Well, looks like his morale is back up,” Harry muttered to himself as he began to drink. “My, what a guy…”
“Who… has…” Neville’s voice rang again as he drew his wand and he and Ron began gently shooting harmless hexes back and forth at each other. “Brains like our Ron!”
“Entertains!...”
“Like our Ron!” cried the room. Ron caught Neville off guard with a hex that landed him on his back. Longbottom looked excruciatingly in awe as his companion placed his heel on his chest.
“Who can make up these endless refrains like your Ron?!” Ron laughed and everyone cheered. “I use antlers in all of my decorating…”
“Say it again!” Neville cheered as Ron pulled him back to stand. Everyone stomped their feet. “Who’s a man among men?! Who’s a super success- don’t you know, can’t you guess? Ask his fans and his five hangers-on! There’s just one guy in town who’s got all of it down!...”
“It’s our favorite guy! Our Ron!” Sang the room and even Harry smiled and joined in at the end. The Hog’s Head erupted in chatter, song, and noise as they banged their fists on the tables and demanded more beer. Aberforth rolled his eyes and began to take their orders.
“How much money did that cost you, mate?” George asked and Harry rolled his eyes.
“Piss off, Georgie. He’s your brother. Shouldn’t you be the one building him up?”
“You don’t need us to do that. You and Longbottom do a great job of that without our help,” Fred chimed in as he paid for another mug. “Poor bloke Neville is. Basically has hearts in his eyes anytime he looks at Ronny boy too long. Surprised he can get any words out for how deep his prick’s in his mouth.”
Harry bristled defensively as he grabbed his pitcher of ale and headed back over to Ron. He was seated again in his favorite chair with Neville adoringly rubbing the heels of his feet. “… It really was a clever tune, Neville. I really liked the way you pulled in the crowd. I guess this town just brings out the best of me!”
“You do that all on your own,” Longbottom replied loyally as he leaned his head against the chair again. “Don’t dwell on Hermione too long, Ron. She’ll come around! How can she not? You’re the perfect man.”
“You’re right,” Ron said in a dreamy voice after a while as Harry pulled a stool over and sat beside him. He glanced over at his friend as he closed his eyes once more. “Where’d you scuttle off too during the musical number, Harry? I saw you all cozied up to my brothers at the bar.”
“Oh, just talking about how great you are,” Harry lied seamlessly as he sipped from the side of his pitcher. “My, what a guy, that Ron and all…”
Just then, there was a loud bang from outside the tavern and the door flew open. Rubeus Hagrid came barreling in, his eyes wide and face frostbitten. Many of the patrons jumped out of the way as he stumbled over to the bar and splayed his massive hands across its wooden surface. “Aberforth, ya’ve gotta help me! ‘Ermione! He has ‘Ermione!”
“Hermione?” Ron echoed as he pushed to his feet. Neville, Harry, and Ronald were at the half-giant’s side in an instant as Aberforth leaned over the counter to comfort the groundskeeper.
“Please! He has her locked in a dungeon!”
“Who does, Hagrid?” Ron asked with wide eyes and the colossal man turned toward him with bloodshot sclera and a weathered face.
“A monster! A beast, I tell you! A terrible serpent that’s nearly as tall as I am with ‘orrible green scales and black claws and…” The entire tavern erupted in laughter and Hagrid’s dark eyes lit with anger. “I’m not lyin’! Please, s-someone has to help me! He has ‘Ermione!”
Ron glanced over at Harry and Neville then looked back at the half giant as he continued to ramble. “There’s a castle in the Forbidden Forest and he lives there. Around the land, it’s already winter! It’s snowin’ somethin’ awful and there’s Acromantulas as big as hounds…”
“Winter!” laughed Fred with a shake of his head. “Aye, Hagrid… it’s only May!”
“Crazy old man,” George agreed as he turned back to his ale.
“I’m not lying!” Hagrid cried as he slid to his knees so quickly that it made the entire bar shake from the force. He dropped his face into his goliath hands and his shoulders shook as he wept. “Why won’t anyone listen to me?!... Oh my ‘Ermione… my s-sweet girl…”
“We’ll help you, Hagrid,” Ron said in a steady voice that made Neville and Harry cast him curious glances. The half-giant moved his hands away from his face and stared at the redhead in front of him with an unsure expression and dewy eyes.
“You… You will, Ronald?...”
“Of course! Take us, Hagrid. Show us the beast.”
…
Nearly an hour later, Hagrid, Ron, Neville, and Harry were trudging through the Forbidden Forest with the younger three having their wands outstretched for light. Neville kept glancing over his shoulder at every sound, not in the slightest bit eager to meet the giant spiders that Hagrid had described. The groundskeeper was retracing his steps, following the prints of Buckbeak’s feet in the soil as the night grew deeper and the land was cloaked in darkness. A rustling in the undergrowth made Harry jump and he flexed his wand hand.
“Hagrid, are you sure this is the way you went?...”
“Buckbeak’s hoof prints go right through here. Not much longer and you’ll see the snow.”
“Alright, well…” Ron cleared his throat to bite back his unease. “We’ve been wandering around for long enough. There is no castle out here, Hagrid. No mysterious manor wrapped in winter.”
“There is! I’m telling you, there is!” Hagrid snapped.
Ron stopped walking when he heard more scuttling in the underbrush and pressed very closely to Harry and Neville. The latter’s face flushed red when Ron’s shoulders grazed his chest. “The only enchanted castle nearby is Hogwarts, Hagrid. And it’s the other way. I’m not going to keep wandering aimlessly through the Forbidden Forest just to get eaten by Acromantula! Now you can stay in the woods if you like, that’s fine. But me and my men are going home!”
“Go on then you cowards!” Hagrid roared as he tightened his coat. “I’ll find ‘Ermione on my own then.” He turned away and began to storm off through the woods, keeping his gaze down to try and follow Buckbeak’s hoofprints. Ron waited for a moment and tilted his head.
“This doesn’t put me in good favor to ask him for Hermione’s hand, does it?” he asked and both Neville and Harry shook their heads.
“Not a great look, mate, no.”
“Perhaps we could keep going?...” Ron took a shaky step forward but then he heard a loud thump from nearby and it was the tipping point. The three Gryffindors turned on their heels and took off quickly back the way they’d come with their wands held in front of them for light.
Hagrid grumbled under his breath as he stopped by a large log. He leaned against it and began to cry. “Oh, ‘Ermione… I don’t know how to save you on my own…” The unnerving crashing sound came again and Hagrid lifted his head. He realized that, without Ron and his gang, he had no way to protect himself and instantly began to back away in the direction of the town. “Who’s there?” he called out but an eerie silence answered him. Hagrid’s heart began to pound in his chest when he became aware of the sensation of being watched. Then, dozens of beady eyes blinked at him from the darkness and he took off in a sprint toward Hogsmeade.
“Ron!” he cried as his massive footsteps shook the ground. The Acromantulas advanced on him from all sides as tears welled in his eyes. No! If I die, ‘Ermione will never get away from that monster! It can’t end like this! “Ron!” he screamed again. “Neville, ‘Arry! Help me!”
“Bombarda Maxima!” A flash of light zoomed past Hagrid’s head and an explosion from behind him sent the half giant sprawling onto the ground. He slammed against the earth with enough force to knock the wind from his lungs. His ears rang and his vision was hazy as a set of hands grabbed him by his collar and shook him. “You have to help me! Stand, Hagrid! I can’t pull you!” The groundskeeper blinked and found himself looking up into panicked hazel eyes and a pale, scarred face. Remus Lupin flourished his wand as the spiders regrouped. “Bombarda Maxima!” he screamed again. The forest shook. Hagrid’s head throbbed. The last thing he saw was Remus standing protectively beside him and then the entire world went dark.
Notes:
Writing Ron, Neville, and Harry like this makes my stomach hurt. x_x
Oh, all song credits to Disney's Beauty and the Beast- both the original animated film from 1991 and the 2017 live action remake. Song referenced in this chapter is 'Gaston'.
Chapter 9: A Gracious Host
Summary:
{Hermione}
The Golden Girl gets adjusted to her new life... and makes a decision to leave it. Little does she know that single choice- as well as a simple drop of mercy- will change the course of everything for everyone forever.
Or... Hermione gets serenaded by Lumiere, sneaks into the West Wing, gets screamed at by the prince, runs away, gets attacked by giant spiders, is rescued by The Serpent, then saves his life.
Whichever version of the summary that you prefer.
Notes:
*Thank God* this is the last song chapter for a minute. Adding in the musical numbers gives me ANXIETY but I feel like this was nicely done. (It made me cringe marginally less than 'My, What a Guy!...' )
I've been thinking about this part for a while now. I'm really pleased with how it came out. I hope you all are too. <3
Anyway, drink some water for me and enjoy your journey to the stars!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“So you really don’t remember anything about who you were before?” Hermione asked softly as Chip nestled into her shoulder. The teacup glanced over at her and shook herself.
“No! I know that my mum is Mrs. Potts. And I think I have a dad somewhere and perhaps some siblings- but I don’t know for sure. I was a teenager before the curse, I think.”
“Fascinating,” Hermione murmured as she tiptoed toward the kitchen. “And why were you all cursed again?”
“Oh, it’s been a few years ago now, Miss,” Chip replied with a sigh. “Hardly anyone remembers why. Just that we are. We were people and now we’re… this. I’ve heard Momma and some of the other help talking though, and I think it was the prince who did it. He wasn’t very nice and angered an enchantress. She cursed him then, and all of us, to be like this forever. Unless…” Chipette stopped abruptly and turned away from Hermione. The cup’s porcelain features turned pink. “Oh, never mind. Look! We’re here. I bet there’s some food left out for you. The prince never eats it all.”
“What do you think you are doing?!” screeched a mousy voice that was very much like nails on a chalkboard. Hermione leaped in surprise and had to quickly reach out her hands and grab Chip to keep from dropping her. She came to a stop in front of the dining room door to find herself staring down into the unfriendly face of a masterfully crafted clock. The timepiece placed his handles on his sides and Hermione instantly recognized the gesture as someone putting their hands on their hips. “Chipette, we were given direct orders not to…”
“She’s our guest!” the teacup snapped. “And she’s hungry! There’s no chance of the curse being lifted if she starves to death.”
“What?” Hermione questioned but Chip just smiled at her apologetically.
“I must beg your pardon, my lady, but I can’t rightly tell you… Now Cogsworth, are you going to move aside so Hermione can find herself something to eat?”
“Absolutely not!” snapped the clock. “The master gave us a demand and I intend to follow it.”
“Spineless rat,” Chip murmured and that seemed to jar Cogsworth a bit. He leaned forward as the hands inside the glass of his face twitched forward a second.
“What did you just call me?” he hissed and Chip chuckled in Hermione’s hands.
“She called you a spineless rat,” Hermione confirmed and the clock threw his handles up in the air.
“I won’t stand for this!”
“Cogsworth, what are you moaning about?” came the gentle, warm voice from down the hall. Hermione turned just in time to see the umbrella stand come scooting toward them. The singular umbrella inside of it was bright pink with purple designs that formed the shape of a face. It smiled at her softly as it came to stop in front of the trio. “Oh! Well aren’t you a vision. You must be Hermione. I’m Ella. Short for Umbrella- unfortunately- but don’t call me Umbrella…”
“And everyone in this bloody castle says that I’m dramatic,” Cogsworth fussed as he crossed his handle-like arms over his chest. “Well, as you know Miss Ella, Hermione has been forbidden to dine while not in the presence of the prince…”
“Oh rubbish. She can eat whenever she likes. Move aside then so she can get settled! It isn’t every day we have a guest in the castle.”
“A guest? Did someone say we have a guest!” Came an excited, albeit old and croaky, voice from the other side of the door. Hermione ignored the protests from Cogsworth as she tightened her grip on Chip and stepped right over the clock into the dining room. Hermione’s mouth opened in awe of the beautiful room with its dark coloration and grand silver crown molding. She ran her fingers along the only chair at a long dining table that wasn’t covered in a thin layer of dust. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the swinging doors to the kitchen opened and a stovetop with a face peered out at her warmly. “Hungry, ma’am?”
“Famished,” Hermione responded with a smile as she settled down in a non-dirty chair and placed Chip on the table- much to the protest of Cogsworth who had entered the room after her. “Do you have anything for me?”
“Oh, do I?!” laughed the stove in a raspy voice as it popped back into the kitchen. “I’ll have everything warmed up for you in a jiff.”
“Hermione! Mademoiselle, there you are!” the breathy, panting voice came from Lumiere as the candelabra climbed up onto the table. He gasped for air and wiped a bit of running wax off his forehead. “You snuck out on me…”
“Wasn’t hard while you were snogging Plumette,” Chip retorted and the surface of his candles flushed pink as Cogsworth eyed him sharply.
“Ah ha. Yes, well… I…”
“Chipette, I was wondering where you’d scampered off to!” Mrs. Potts rolled in on her trolly with Ella behind her. The teakettle hopped off the cart and slid down to the table until she was at Lumiere’s side. “It’s well past your bedtime…”
“But I want to stay up with Hermione while she has supper!” the teacup cried. “Oh, please Momma…”
“Supper, you say?” Lumiere chuckled as the distant sound of piano music drifted through the castle. He glanced over at Cogsworth and winked at him. The clock instantly looked dismayed.
“No! Oh, absolutely not…”
“Oh, absolutely yes!” Lumiere grabbed the timepiece by his handle hands and spun him around. He released him and Cogsworth went flying off the table and skidded straight into a wall. Lumiere flounced back over to Hermione and threw himself dramatically across the space in front of her. He grinned up at the young witch and Hermione couldn’t help but smile back.
“Ma chere mademoiselle! It is with deepest pride and greatest pleasure that we welcome you here tonight. And now, we invite you to relax as the dining room presents… your dinner.” He bolted to his feet and clapped his candlesticks together. Just then, the lighting dimmed until the dining room was blanketed in hazy green. Mrs. Potts, Ella, and Cogsworth hurried off into the kitchen as Chip settled in at Hermione’s side. Lumiere winked at her and gave himself a little spin.
“Be our… guest. Be our guest. Put our service to the test! Tie your napkin ‘round your neck, cherie, and we provide the rest…” He sang in a soft, brilliant, welcoming voice as the kitchen door swung open and many plates and dishes came hurrying out. Hermione laughed in wonder as a platter of candied yams appeared in front of her and she eagerly scooped some out onto a plate. “Soup du jour, hot hors d’oeuvres. Why, we only live to serve!” Another course of food was sat out in front of her and Hermione took a bowl of delicious looking pumpkin soup.
She curiously eyeballed a gravy boat filled with some type of undistinguishable matter, but Lumiere laughed at her and gestured at it excitedly. “Try the gray stuff- it’s delicious. Don’t believe me, ask the dishes!” Tentatively, Hermione stuck her pinky in the dish and tasted the mashed-potato-like substance as it melted on her tongue. Her eyes sparkled in delight as she scooped out a healthy portion onto her plate.
“It really is fantastic!”
“They can sing; they can dance. After all, miss, this is France. And a dinner here is never second best.” A chorus of voices added to Lumiere’s own and Hermione beamed when she realized it was, in fact, the dishes that were singing to her. A plate rolled sideways across the table and flopped in front of her so she’d have more room for food. She shoveled a spoonful of the gray stuff into her mouth as Chip scooted to the edge of the table so she could be filled with tea. “Go on, unfold your menu. Take a glance and then you’ll be our guest, oui our guest, be our guest…” Hermione chuckled as the coat rack slid a piece of parchment into her hands and she unfolded it to admire a long list of amazing sound entrees.
“Goodness! The roasted duck sounds exquisite.”
“Cuisinier!” called Lumiere and the stove popped its head out of the kitchen. “Roasted duck for the lady?”
“Coming right up!” And then he was gone. Lumiere laughed and spun around and around on his heels, leaving beautiful trails of flame as he twirled. Hermione watched Mrs. Potts come speeding out of the kitchen on her trolly to fill Chipette with tea. The young witch smiled as she pulled the cup to her lips and relished in- yet again- another perfect Earl Grey. Hermione’s eyes stretched wide as a parade of saucers, pans, and pots began to file across the table with various, delicious looking items for her to try. She quickly sat Chip back down and began to take small spoonfuls from as many as she could while Lumiere’s song continued.
“Beef ragout, cheese soufflé, pie and pudding on flambe. We’ll prepare and serve with flair- a culinary cabaret. You’re alone and you’re scared, but the banquet’s all prepared. No one’s gloomy or complaining while the flatware’s entertaining. We tell jokes- I do tricks! With my fellow candlesticks…”
“And it’s all in perfect taste that you can bet!” Sang the countless dishes as Hermione took a mug of exquisite pumpkin ale and began to wash down another mouthful of the gray stuff.
“Come on and lift your glass. You’ve won your own free pass to be our guest…”
“If you’re stressed, it’s fine dining we suggest,” Ella told her and Hermione beamed up at the umbrella as she picked up a tiny honey-glazed roll and tore it apart with her fingers.
“Be our guest, be our guest, be our guest!”
“Too loud! Too loud!” Cogsworth snapped as he scurried around the room trying to get the dishes to lower their voices. He had just climbed up on the table to attempt to tackle Lumiere when Plumette drifted into the room and took her husband against her chest. She spun upward toward the dusty chandelier as the candelabra dramatically draped himself across her arms.
“Life is so unnerving for a servant who’s not serving,” he told Hermione gloomily and she tilted her head at him as she finished off her second helping of cranberry casserole. “He’s not whole without a soul to wait upon. Ah, those good old days when we were useful... Suddenly those good old days are gone.” Hermione tried to take his lament seriously, but she found it extraordinarily hard to keep a straight face. Plumette twirled him around and around over her head as three saltshakers rained small white flakes down on him like snow from the chandelier above. “Three years now we’ve been rusting. Needing so much more than dusting. Needing exercise- a chance to use our skills. Oh, most days we just lay around the castle… Flabby, fat, and lazy. You walked in and oops-a-daisy!”
Plumette released him and Lumiere landed squarely on Mrs. Potts trolly as she zoomed around the room making sure everything was in order. “It’s a guest! It’s a guest. Sakes alive, well I’ll be blessed. Wine’s been poured and thank the Lord I’ve had the napkins freshly pressed. With dessert- she’ll want tea. And, my dear, that’s fine with me. While the cups do their soft-shoeing, I’ll be bubbling, I’ll be brewing. I’ll get warm- piping hot…” The teakettle sang happily as she came back to Hermione’s side and eyed her daughter playfully. “Heaven’s sakes, is that a spot?” She steamed some hot water from her pour spout and a bit of grime on Chip’s handle instantly buffered itself out of the porcelain. “Clean it up! We want the company impressed.”
“We’ve got a lot to do. Dear, one lump or two? For you- our guest…” She poured a new batch of tea into Chipette as the stove came rumbling out of the kitchen with the most fantastic looking roasted duck Hermione had ever seen.
“She’s our guest, she’s our guest! Be our guest, be our guest- our command is your request…” Hermione laughed as she took the trey of poultry from him thankfully and the range headed back through the double doors. Her mouth watered as she pulled off a leg of incredibly tender meat and sank her teeth into it. “It’s been three years since we’ve had anybody here and we’re obsessed- with your meal, with your ease. Yes, indeed, we aim to please. While the candelight’s still glowing, let us help you- we’ll keep going…”
Hermione’s eyes sparkled with awe as the room erupted in gorgeous color and brilliant sound as the cups, glasses, napkins, candles, and dishes all serenaded her. They spun away from the table to reveal Lumiere on the other end, his arms wrapped around Plumette and Cogsworth as they kicked in time to the music.
“Course by course! One by one. Till you shout “enough, I’m done!” Then we’ll sing you off to sleep as you digest. Tonight, you’ll prop your feet up. But for now, let’s eat up. Be our guest, be our guest, be our guest. Please… be… our… guest!”
Hermione bolted out of her chair and clapped her hands in amazement as the musical number came to an end. With their arms still locked around each other, Cogsworth, Lumiere, and Plumette all bowed low to the table as the various other platewares began to file out of the room. The young witch collapsed back in her seat and dreamily nestled her chin into the valley of her bridged fingers. She shook her head in disbelief and smiled to herself as she unwound from the lulling enchantment and toyed with a corner of pudding on the end of her plate. She stuck her spoon in her mouth and sighed as Mrs. Potts topped off her tea.
“Oh, that was wonderful! Simply amazing. It’s the most magical thing I’ve ever seen… Lumiere, you have quite the voice.”
“It was his singing that made me fall for him,” Plumette murmured adoringly as the candelabra began to twirl her around the table. “He would sing to me all the time when we were in school.”
Something about that tickled Hermione’s interest and she leaned forward a bit in her chair. “Did you both attend Hogwarts then? When you were people?”
“Yes, I think I remember that we did. Same house- Slytherin,” Lumiere replied as he gave the feather duster a dip and covered her porcelain neck in kisses. “What house were you?”
“Gryffindor, I believe…” Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed. She tilted her head. “Do you… remember anything else? About being in school?”
“No, I don’t think so. That’s about it. I remember my darling Lumiere singing to me, but I couldn’t tell you what his name was or what he looked like as a man. I can only recall his voice- and that hasn’t changed. I do imagine that he was beautiful considering how gorgeous he is as a candlestick.”
“Oh, my darling, you flatter me…” Lumiere released Plumette from his grasp and walked slowly over to Hermione. He sat beside her plate of desserts and used a candled hands to flambe the top of one of her pies. His metallic eyes met her own and she smiled at him softly.
“Thank you. Thank all of you…” She glanced around the room at Ella, Chip, Mrs. Potts, then back to the three enchanted items on the table in front of her. “For being so kind to me when you didn’t have to be.”
“It’s been a long time since we’ve had anyone’s company here besides our own,” Cogsworth conceded as he cleaned a bit of mashed potatoes from one of his legs. “Truth be told, it’s been nice.”
“Are you ready for bed now, love?” Mrs. Potts asked her as Hermione scraped the last bit of pudding from her plate. She stared at her in bewilderment and shook her head.
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly sleep after that performance! If this is going to be my home now, I think I’d much like to know my way around. Could I have a tour perhaps?”
“Not too full?” Lumiere teased and Hermione chuckled.
“No, I think I ate just the perfect amount.”
“I’ll leave you lot to it then,” the teakettle said fondly as she gave Chip a nudge with her pour spout. “Come along now, you. It’s time for bed.”
“But I want to take Hermione on a tour of the castle!” the teacup whined but Hermione could tell she was trying desperately to stifle a yawn. Mrs. Potts’ painted eyes rolled as she slid her spout through Chip’s handle and swung her over onto the trolly.
“No arguing, young lady. There will be plenty of time to spend with Hermione tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that…” As they headed toward the kitchen, Chip turned around and offered the witch a beaming smile.
“Goodnight, Hermione!”
“Goodnight…” She paused and realized with a slight twinge of pain behind her left eye that she’d nearly called Chip ‘Gin’ again. Hermione gave herself a shake and looked around the room. She noticed that Ella and the coatrack were gone and now she was left in the presence of Lumiere, Cogsworth, and Plumette. She smiled. “Ready?”
“Let’s go!”
…
“And you can see here the many artifacts from the royal family. A knife, a spear, a blade, several wands…”
“And which family is this again?” Hermione asked curiously as she leaned in toward some of the weapons that were in glass cases on a wall. They’d been walking through the corridors for nearly an hour now and she’d learned a great deal about the manor she would now call home. It held a great many dark object and more secrets, twists, and turns than she could have ever imagined.
At some point during the tour, Plumette and Lumiere got very engrossed in one another and abandoned the other two in favor of an empty broom closet. Now she glanced over at Cogsworth with curiosity blooming across her face. The clock met Hermione’s inquiring gaze and tilted his head at the question.
“Oh, uhm. The royal family. The prince’s bloodline.”
“And which bloodline is that?”
“Oh… Actually, nobody knows. Well, nobody remembers anyway. All of that information was absorbed in the curse.”
“Peculiar.” Hermione gave a slight nod of her head as the two of them carried on. They were about to pass by a darkened room when something about it called to her. The hairs along Hermione’s nape bristled and she paused. She glanced sideways into the open space and felt an odd chill take up her spine. Upon the ground were shards from a broken chandelier and the tattered remains of furniture and shredded portraits. It was unbelievably dark and there were no enchanted candles to keep the room aglow. She took a shaky step toward it but then Cogsworth’s hand grabbed the bottom of her robe. She looked down at him and saw something uncertain in the fine details of his carved face.
“The master dislikes the drawing room. It’s his least favorite place in the entire manor. Except for the West Wing…” Cogsworth snapped his mouth shut but the damage had been done. Hermione’s face shifted with curiosity as she raised an eyebrow.
“What is in the West Wing, Cogsworth? The prince mentioned it when he showed me to my chamber…”
“I can’t tell you,” the clock said immediately, looking very panicked. “Closed for renovation. Just a mess. Honestly we need to clean it up. There’s hundreds of containers of all kinds of old potions and boxes of scrolls. Ug! Just an absolute catastrophe. Nothing for a lady to concern herself with. Perhaps we could discuss something different? We have an entire room of ancient royal tapestries…”
“No, I don’t think I’d like to see that right now.”
“The gardens? I know it’s snowing, but they’re still quite beautiful to walk- even in the frost…”
“No thank you.”
“The library has…”
“You have a library?” Hermione’s eyes glistened. “Can I see it?”
“Oh, yes, yes! Of course.” Excitedly, Cogsworth began to scurry down the hallway. “You’ll absolutely love it, Hermione. There are romance novels and scary stories, and books about survival, and historical scrolls and…” So eager was the clock to steer Hermione away from her curiosity, he’d failed to notice she hadn’t followed him. She was staring into the drawing room again- at a fixed place on the floor. Instinctively she reached for the scar on her arm and clutched it over the robe with her fingers. It prickled uneasily as that horrible woman’s screaming voice echoed in her ears again.
{“What else did you take from my vault?!”}
Hermione’s heart hammered in her chest as she swiftly turned away from the drawing room and hurried back down the hall in the opposite direction of Cogsworth. She found the staircase quickly and eagerly took them two steps at a time. She stopped at the rise at the top and glanced down the hallway that would lead to her room. Then she turned her head to the left- toward the West Wing. She bit her lip and took the smallest step toward it. Again, that gnawing feeling of being brave began to prickle up her spine. She exhaled all the air in her lungs then headed down the darkened corridor.
Immediately, Hermione realized that Cogsworth, to an extent, had been telling the truth. The West Wing truly was in a desperate state. There were broken statues crumbled against the walls and torn tapestries hanging from the ceiling. Broken mirrors lay across the floor in heaps of shattered glass and splintered frames, and she had to tiptoe carefully around them to avoid lodging any of the splinters in her bare feet. The closer she got to a set of twin doors on the far side of the hall, the more the air smelled of decay, rot, and putrid meat. She swallowed down the fear that threatened to drown her and instinctively pulled her wand from inside her robe. She gave it a shaky swish and whispered ‘Lumos’ as she placed her hand on the cracked doors and they pushed open under her palm.
Inside, the room was in even more disarray than the corridor. Picture frames were smashed upon the ground and the walls were heavily scored by deep, horrific claw marks. Strips of wallpaper curled against the crown molding like permanent coils of ribboned flesh. She tucked one of her bronze locks back out of her face as she stepped cautiously inside. Immediately, her feet brushed across something crunchy and she nearly screamed when she realized she was stepping on the countless scatterings of animal bones.
Hermione covered her mouth with her hand as she navigated through the space, her full stomach churning at the smell of decay and rotting flesh. She was just about to turn to go when she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. Sliced to ribbons but still fastened inside a silver frame, there was a portrait of a handsome young man that was strikingly familiar to her. She approached the picture with her heart thundering in her chest as she used the tip of her wand to push up one of the pieces of curled canvas. Stunning silver eyes stared back at her and the name fell from her lips again.
“Draco Malfoy?” she whispered, though the person in the portrait was clearly a few years older than the bratty boy she’d imagined earlier. Yet, she knew they were the same person. At least I think they are… A chill ran through her until her fingers throbbed from cold. She shivered and realized that snow was actually filtering into the room from an open balcony. She pulled her robe tighter around her and turned toward it to close the parapet doors when she saw something that took her breath away.
Sitting on a table, under a cloche of glass, was a beautiful silver rose. Hermione approached it on icy feet as her heart drummed in her chest. Curiously, she picked up the case and moved it aside. She tilted her head and reached out a gentle finger, brushing a wilted petal that was already black in a pile of soil. “A rose?” she whispered to herself as she moved to touch the still live flower. “Why a rose?...”
“What are you doing in here?!” snarled a voice that instantly brought tears to her eyes. Before Hermione even had a chance to respond, the prince slithered over to her from the open door and snatched the cloche from the tabletop. He slammed it back down over the rose and turned those horrible serpent eyes to her. His lips drew back and his snake’s teeth flashed like daggers of bone in the dim light of her wand. “I told you never to come here! Do you have any idea what you could have done?!” The snake’s fist landed on a table a few feet away from Hermione and shattered it instantly. “Get out! GET OUT!” He screeched, his tail lashing violently so that the end of it snapped against the leg of a chair and splintered the wood. The venom in his words and the aggression in his actions were so strong that it made her drop her wand. Hermione turned on her heels and sprinted as fast as she could out of the room, tears streaming down her face as she raced down the hall.
As she went barreling back down the stairs, she leaped over Cogsworth as she headed for the door. He had a terrified look on his face as he clambered after her. “Mademoiselle, where are you going? What happened?!”
“I can’t! I can’t do it. I can’t stay under the same roof as a monster like him. I can’t…” Hermione was panting, her voice thick with fear.
“No, wait! The storm- Hermione…!” cried the coat rack but it was no use. She pried the door open and ran out into the night. Hermione found Buckbeak waiting for her and quickly hopped up onto his back. She realized the hippogriff was too cold to fly when he stretched his wings and frost flaked off his feathers. She gripped his neck tightly and wept.
“Come on, Beaky! On foot then- but we have to get out of here!” The hippogriff screeched at her and took off across the yard. As they headed toward the gate, the white peacock eyed them spitefully and fluttered up across the manor. It landed on the parapet’s rail in the West Wing and watched as the prince threw countless things around the room. Furniture. Animal skulls. Pieces of broken picture frames. Finally, it cleared its throat and flexed its wings.
“The girl is getting away, master…”
“Why does it matter now?!” snapped the serpent. “Did you see how terrified she was of me? I can’t fix this…”
“She’s heading straight into the forest. You and I both know the Acromantulas are most active at night. If she isn’t aided, the girl will die.” The beast paused his warpath of destruction as the peacock’s eyes snagged on something under the table that held the rose. Its beady gaze lifted again to the prince as his master turned to face him with wide silver eyes. “And she has left her wand.”
…
Hermione knew something was wrong when Buckbeak dug his heels into the frozen earth and skidded to a stop. She heard him whinny in nervousness and lifted her head. She wiped her blurry eyes and froze. Creeping in on them from all sides were hordes of the biggest spiders she’d ever seen. Papa always told me about Acromantulas but I never thought I’d see them with my own eyes… She instinctively reached for her wand and her heart sank. No!
The next instant, they were rushing at Buckbeak and the hippogriff reared up on his hind legs and pawed at them with all his might. Hermione went flying from his back and landed against the frozen earth with enough force to knock the air from her lungs. She managed to pull her wits about her just in time to see one of the spiders scuttling toward her and she wrapped her fingers around the closest thing she could find. She picked up a stick and forced herself to stand. She swung the branch like a bat and smacked the advancing Acromantula in the head a moment before it was on her. Her temples pulsed from the impact on the ground, but she gritted her teeth and prepared to strike again. One of them, a large one, was about to lunge at the hippogriff when Hermione slammed the stick against it.
“Beaky, you have to try to fly!” she screamed to her companion. The loyal steed screeched at her, lashed his horse tail, and proceeded to crack his head against a spider with all his might. The arachnid flopped over onto the icy forest floor and didn’t move again. “Buckbeak, you have to!” she pleaded as tears welled in her eyes. “They’ll kill us both! You have to get away!”
Hermione didn’t have time to say more. She screamed when she was yanked backward by her robe. She slammed against the snowy ground and was dragged steadily across the grass as an Acromantula pulled her away from her only friend. She gasped and shuffled out of the robe, her entire body screaming from the cold as her bare shoulders met frosty ground. Hermione jumped to her feet and scrambled around for something to defend herself with. She saw her stick laying by Buckbeak’s hooves a few paces away and made for it, but not before the spider that had been dragging her was on her again. She cried out and prepared herself for the meeting of fangs in her flesh, but the agony never came.
She heard a familiar hissing sound and then saw a flash of bright orange light. “Bombarda Maxima!” bellowed the prince as he coiled up by her side. He stood back-to-back with her as his tail lashed in front of her face- her wand wrapped tightly by its end. “Might need this.”
“Thanks!” she gasped as she pulled it from his scales. The serpent, Hermione, and Buckbeak pressed tightly together as the Acromantula closed in on them from every side. She felt his cool body tense as he leaned his head down toward her ear.
“Do you know any defensive spells?”
“No, not really. I can’t remember anything from school. Do you?”
“A few. Follow my lead and mirror my wand movements,” he hissed to her as he flourished his wand up and down in a straight line. “Stupefy!” he cried and Hermione copied him.
“Stupefy!” she echoed and, to her amazement, light fired from both their wands and it blasted all of the spiders on their side away. She spun on her heels to aid Buckbeak and repeated the spell.
“Damn, these things don’t quit!” the serpent snarled as he flicked his wrist. “Confringo!” More of them were sent reeling just as a massive Acromantula came thundering through the snow toward them. Hermione saw the prince’s body tense as he handed her his wand.
“What are you doing?... Wait!” she cried, but it was no use. He went racing across the ice and leaped for the monstrous spider. Hermione screamed in horror of the scene in front of her as he coiled his body around it and squeezed. His jaws clamped down on its skull and she nearly vomited the contents of her stomach when its exoskeleton snapped under the force of the bite. As the great beast collapsed in his grasp, the other Acromantulas were quick to scurry out of dodge. Buckbeak brayed in relief and collapsed to his side- exhausted from the fight. Hermione’s heart was in her throat as the serpent uncoiled himself from his prey and pushed to his feet. He held her gaze for only a moment before he pitched forward and sank ungracefully onto the forest floor.
“What’s wrong? Did it bite you?!” She raced to his side and noticed that the snake was shivering madly. He curled up into a ball and blinked slowly, a hazy layer of film covering his silver eyes. She brushed his cheek with her hand and gasped at how cold the scales were under her touch. “My prince?...”
“C-C-Cold…” he stammered pathetically. “Can’t… can’t… be… c-cold…”
Hermione understood immediately. He can’t regulate his own body heat. He’s a snake. She looked over her shoulder at Buckbeak and the hippogriff churred at her. She sighed and pushed to her feet. She hurried over to the place she’d lost her robe and snatched it up from the forest floor. She shook some of the snow from it then raced back to his side and draped it over his shoulders. He stared up at her with a grateful expression on his face and Hermione smiled at him slightly as she leaned in and grabbed his arm. She anchored it over her shoulder and pulled.
“You have to help me,” she told him as she strained under his weight. “I can’t lift you on my own. You have to stand.” The prince blinked once, very slowly, and nodded. She saw him muster the last bit of strength he had and lurched uneasily to his feet. His legs trembled and he would have fallen if Hermione hadn’t used her body to brace him. She guided him over to Buckbeak and the hippogriff jumped to his feet then eyed her uncertainly.
“Oh, Beaky… please…” When he still looked very unsure, Hermione hissed through her teeth and lowered herself to the ground in a bow. She met the serpent’s eyes with a pleading expression on her face. “Follow my lead.”
He groaned and nodded. He swept into an ungraceful bow and the hippogriff reluctantly mirrored the motion. He then turned his flank to the pair and Hermione helped haul the prince onto his back. He leaned against the creature’s neck and shivered in the cold. Hermione’s body was on fire from how much of her bare skin was meeting snow and frost, but she didn’t care. She hopped up behind the serpent and arranged herself between Buckbeak’s wings. She climbed under the robe and pressed tightly to the prince’s side as the hippogriff began to gallop quickly toward the castle.
“Your scales are like ice…” She tucked their wands into her now messy hair and rubbed her numb hands together. She breathed into her palms and placed the warm flesh against his neck. He groaned thankfully for the body heat and slid those shocking silver eyes over her.
“Thank you,” he murmured in a voice so soft and kind that she barely recognized it. “For this kindness… Hermione…” Then the prince shivered once more and fell unconscious against Buckbeak’s feathered neck.
Notes:
Song is 'Be Our Guest' from Beauty and the Beast.
Chapter 10: Scales and Scars
Summary:
{Hermione}
The Golden Girl spends a day bonding with the prince- and realizes he might not be the monster that be believes he is.
Notes:
Woohoo! Hi guys! Chapter 10- that's crazy. I'll have a piece of cover art uploaded tomorrow (I'm too tired now).
As a side note, our first smutty bit is toward the end of this chapter. It only gets hotter, weirder, and more creative from here.
Anyway. I hope y'all like it. Enjoy your journey to the stars. <3
Chapter Text
“Quick, quick! By the hearth…” Lumiere’s face was stitched with worry as Hermione half dragged the prince into the castle. She was nearly collapsing under his frame when the coat rack came to her aid. Together, the two of them hauled the unconscious serpent through the hall and laid him in front of the fireplace. He was trembling so horribly that his scales were scraping against the marble floor. Hermione ignored her own shaking as she beckoned to the staff.
“I need dry towels! A blanket. Anything warm, please!” They all scattered off in different directions. She rubbed the prince’s arms with her hands and pressed against him to offer her meager body warmth. “Hold on, okay?...” Almost instantly they all returned with anything she could need.
Hermione set to work making a nest upon the floor with blankets and pillows. She tucked the beast in as close to the fire as she dared and began to strip him of his wet, cold trousers. He coiled tightly into a ball when he was bare before her, but Hermione didn’t care- nor notice. She wrapped him up until he was cocooned and then curled up behind him. She pressed herself against him and tucked her face against the back of his neck. Her hot breath ran across his icy scales and he shivered from the sensation of warmth down his spine.
“Hermione, you’re bleeding,” Plumette said gently as she landed beside the witch. Hermione blinked and glanced down. Her legs were scratched, muddy, and caked with dried blood. She shrugged her shoulders and just curled tighter against the prince.
“It isn’t bad. He needs more care. Once he’s warm, I’ll see to myself.”
“I can see to you now,” Mrs. Potts insisted as she let out a long whistle. There was a thunderous sound of wood on concrete and then the piano stool was heeled to her trolly. “Good boy, Froufrou! Can you lie with the master? Can you lay down?” The stool let out a bark and headed over to where the prince was still shivering on the floor. But then it caught sight- however it is that it could see- of Cogsworth and instantly bristled and growled. The clock let out a little cry of fear and quickly shimmied up a table leg as the stool lunged for him.
“No! Stop! Down, boy!” the timepiece snapped as he backed away from the edge of the end table until he was against the wall.
“No, Froufrou! Bad dog!” scolded the teakettle and the piano stool whined at being reprimanded. It lowered its head and trudged silently over to the pile of blankets on the floor. Hermione rolled away from the prince and Froufrou collapsed beside his master, burrowing into the nest to try and hold some of Hermione’s body heat in his upholstery.
“Never have been able to figure out why Froufrou hates Cogsworth so much. Ever since we started up in this mess, anytime they’re in the same room, he tries to chase him,” Lumiere told Hermione as he flicked out one of the flames on his hands and blew on it to cool the wax. After a few moments, he began to scrape the grime off her legs to examine her injuries. He glanced up at her and Hermione saw the candelabra’s expression soften. “Thank you, by the way… for saving him. I don’t know what we’d do if we lost our prince.”
“Will he be okay?” she asked nervously as she took a wet towel from Ella thankfully and began to scrub the dirt away. “He still seems very lethargic…”
“It’ll take a while, but he’ll perk up,” Mrs. Potts told her as she poured some tea into a very tired looking Chipette. “He becomes more and more of a snake the longer the spell has its hold. I’m sure you know that serpents are coldblooded?” Hermione nodded. “It takes him a long time to regulate his body temperature. He was out in the snow for far too long. He can handle it in bursts but going out there this late with the storm like that?” The teakettle shivered. “I’m just glad you both made it back alright…” Chip slid across the floor and perched herself by the prince’s mouth.
“Please, master… you have to drink.”
He murmured something lowly to her and his trembling hand slowly grasped her handle. Hermione watched him tilt the cup toward his mouth. Most of the tea spilled into the floor, but just a bit of it made it past his lips. Hermione flinched, her focus torn away from him, when Lumiere and Plumette began to tend to the scrapes along her legs. The feather duster’s gaze kept flickering over to the serpent as she delicately rubbed a salve of some type into the cuts on Hermione’s shins. The witch tilted her head in relief as some of the biting pain began to lessen. She noticed that Lumiere was staring at the scar on her arm and she folded them across her chest to remove the unseemly mark from his vision.
“Mademoiselle… Who did that to you?” he asked in a soft voice. The hairs along Hermione’s neck bristled and she shivered.
“I don’t know. I can’t remember.”
“What a horrible word,” muttered Ella and there was a murmur of agreement from around the room. “I’m sorry they did that to you.”
“It’s alright. I don’t think about it most of the time. I forget it’s there…” Hermione unfolded her arms as Lumiere hopped up on Ella’s stand to be able to tend to the cuts on the witch’s shoulders. She stared down at the word ‘mudblood’ and saw that she’d scraped her forearm while tussling with the Acromantulas. Pinpricks of blood were welling across the healed injury and she scratched at it without meaning to. She was suddenly aware of soft breath on her skin and she glanced over to see that the prince had turned to face her. Froufrou was now by his legs as the serpent leaned in a bit closer to her. “How are you feeling?” she asked him and he gave a small sigh.
“Cold still. Getting b-better… Are you okay? Hermione, you’re hurt…”
“Just some scrapes and scratches. I’ll be alright. Lumiere and Plumette are tending to me. You just need to rest…”
“This? What about this?” Slowly, the prince pulled himself into a sitting position. He looked as if he might topple over, but Froufrou bounded to his peg paws and jumped behind him to steady his ill master. The serpent reached behind him and patted his side thankfully as he turned those silver eyes back to Hermione. She caught her breath as the prince’s cold, scaly hands closed around her scarred arm. Lumiere and Plumette stopped fussing over her as their master ran a plated thumb over the word that was carved into her skin. “Does it hurt?” he asked her softly and Hermione realized she hadn’t been breathing. She searched his silver eyes and saw a warmth in them she didn’t recognize. Color filled her cheeks and she looked away- choosing instead to study the flickering fire in the hearth.
“No, not usually. It throbs sometimes. I’ve noticed it’s prickled a bit more since I’ve been here in the castle. It mainly hurts right now, I think, because I scraped it during the scuffle…”
“Here, Plumette,” the prince beckoned and the feather duster twirled to his side. He took the salve from her wings and gently began to rub some of it against Hermione’s irritated skin. Relief washed through her and she sighed softly as his plated thumbs worked against the stinging flesh. He sought her eyes and Hermione found herself staring into those silvery depths. “Better?” he asked and she nodded slightly.
“Yes, thank you, my prince.”
“No. It is I who owe you thanks… for saving me,” he added as he pulled his hands back to himself. “A lesser witch would have left me in the forest to die.”
“Lucky for you I’m no lesser witch,” Hermione teased and she saw a bit of amusement cross his face. She exhaled all the air in her lungs and offered him a genuine smile. “I owe you gratitude as well. Had you not come to the forest after me, Buckbeak and I both would have surely been killed.”
“It was foolish for you to go out there alone at night,” he told her simply as he picked up Chipette and sipped from the unbroken side of the cup. “I wouldn’t have had to rescue you if you hadn’t run away,” the serpent pointed out as the coat rack moved forward and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. Hermione’s pupils narrowed at this and she huffed a bit in exasperation.
“Be that as it may, I wouldn’t have ran away if you didn’t frighten me so badly!”
“I’d never have frightened you if you weren’t where I told you not to go!” he snapped back and the ranks of help recoiled a bit as a flash of venom sparked in their master’s voice. Only Froufrou stayed put as to not let the prince fall over.
“That isn’t true,” Hermione argued as she crossed her arms again. “You’ve been frightening me since the moment we met. You need to learn to control your temper.”
The prince opened his mouth and immediately closed it again. He blinked slowly, apologetically, and sighed. He gave a small nod of his head. “You’re… you’re right. It’s a terrible issue I have… I’ll work on it.”
“Good,” Hermione snipped crossly but some of her temporary annoyance had burnt out. She watched him sip his tea again before setting Chip back on the ground. He shivered and pulled the blanket tightly around himself. She sighed and looked away from him. “What does it do?... The rose? Why did it make you so angry that I’d seen it?”
“Not that you saw it, per se…” he responded after a moment. “I… I was afraid perhaps you’d touched it. Damaged it in some way. You see, the rose is a representation of the curse. For every petal that falls from it, we become less and less human and forget further the people we once were.” Hermione glanced at him with wide, wonderous eyes. “I was worried you’d damage it and speed up the spell.”
“Oh,” Hermione murmured softly as her face again filled with color. “I’m sorry. I… I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t tell you. How could you know?” he reasoned back with a fang-toothed smile. “The West Wing was my family’s primary living quarters when we were people. My mother and father’s room is there. So is my bedroom and our family archives. I… I hate my quarters now. It’s just a nest filled with the echoes of things from before. And the monster I am now. It’s where I keep the rose so I can monitor it. It’s all just too much. Too many reminders of the past… and of the lack of our future.”
“I saw a portrait of someone. In your room,” she told him after a moment and the prince’s eyes met her own. She opened her mouth to speak but found the name that rolled around inside her mind while in the West Wing was gone. She pressed her lips together again and tilted her head as that spot behind her left eye drummed with pain. What was it again? Who was it?... Damien? Drew? No. Derik? No… Why can’t I remember?... “Was that you? Before?”
“I believe so. Perhaps? I can’t remember,” the prince sighed as he shook his head. “If it is… I was beautiful.” He looked away from her and shivered. “That’s enough for tonight, Hermione. You best head to your room and rest.”
“Will you be alright by yourself?” she asked and he glanced up at her fleetingly. He offered a small smile and nodded only once. “You won’t freeze to death in the night?”
“No, I’ll be alright. Thank you. Go get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning. Perhaps… for breakfast?” he asked sheepishly. Hermione smiled a bit and rolled her eyes. She shakily got to her feet and leaned on Ella for support.
“Yes. For breakfast. Goodnight, my prince.” With the aid of the umbrella stand, Hermione began to limp her way back toward the staircase. The prince watched her go with confusion swirling in his silver eyes.
“Goodnight, Hermione.”
…
“You look like you’re about to fall over, dear,” Ella fussed at Hermione but the witch barely heard her. She gave a nod of her head as she leaned against the sink in the washroom she’d been in just a few hours ago. She stared at her face in the mirror and could see the heavy lines of exhaustion scoring the places under her eyes. She blinked quickly and took in all the new abrasions on her body. She shivered and ran her hand over the scar on her arm. It’s starting to hurt again…
“I just want to wash up really quick. Then I’ll go straight to bed,” Hermione promised as she limped over toward the tub. “Could you fetch me some clothes from Garderobe?” she asked as she stifled a yawn. Ella nodded dutifully then headed down the hall. Hermione waited until she was gone to shed the shredded nightgown and slip into the tub. The warm water soothed her battered skin as she sank up to her nose. She blinked gratefully when Ella returned with a fresh set of pajamas for her- once again in shades of emerald green. The umbrella stand dipped to her politely then left. The door clicked shut behind her and Hermione closed her eyes to try and relax.
Her mind was spinning from all the events of the day. Papa being captured. Me taking his place. The prince. The rose. The spiders… Her thoughts faltered. Her mind skewed. That familiar ache came to her skull again as she tried to recall the name of the boy she’d seen in the portrait. The prince’s name. A flicker of doubt welled up inside of her and Hermione’s eyebrows pitched thoughtfully. But was that even him? Is it the same person? What if I’m wrong?... If he doesn’t remember at all, perhaps I’m mistaken. Oh, I just wish I could remember that name…
Just then the sharp pain behind her eye came again. She saw another slice of something- a memory from another time. Standing in a classroom at Hogwarts with many others. She was approaching a cauldron filled with a bubbling opal-like elixir. {“It's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us. I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and…”} Hermione heard her own voice falter and felt her cheeks flushing red. She took a step back into the crowd beside Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Her eyes drifted across the room and her breath caught in her throat when she saw familiar silver eyes looking at her. He quickly turned his head away when their gazes crossed.
Hermione jumped up instinctively and gasped for breath. She looked around and found her environment was familiar. No longer the filled, bustling halls of Hogwarts, but instead the dimly lit, darkly painted room of the prince’s castle. She pulled her bruised knees up to her chest and rested her chin on the valley between them. She ran a hand through her hair and rubbed the base of her skull with a groan of discomfort. Merlin, what is his name?! Why do I keep seeing him in these weird flashes? What are they? Are they memories?... Pieces of a different life?... What’s going on? Is he the prince? What does this mean?... Hermione’s head throbbed as she hoisted herself out of the tub and walked shakily over to the sink. She dried herself with a fluffy black towel then slipped into the fresh, clean pajamas.
By the time Hermione climbed into her bed, her bones were weak with exhaustion. The wardrobe was snoring loudly, but as she was used to her father’s rumbling wheezing at night, the sound was a near comfort to her. She pulled the silky emerald sheets up around her and nestled into the cloud-like pillows. Hermione stared up at the underside of the black and silver canopy as her thoughts drifted again. She rubbed the drumming scar on her arm as she was taken back to another time, another place- another world.
She saw steady fingers grip the ends of a broomstick with white knuckled force as a line of sweat ran through dirt against a pale face. She could smell fresh air and hear narrating from someone familiar as they called the moves during a Quidditch match. Her eyes fluttered shut as she saw herself spinning around in a hall filled with people. A dark, brooding stranger was holding her hand and she was happy. But there was something else. Something dark and lost and horribly hidden. Longing. Jealousy. There were eyes watching her as she danced in that periwinkle blue dress. She glanced across the room to see that white-haired boy holding someone else in his arms. He was smiling.
Hands were cupping her face. Her eyes were closed. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Her arms were locked around someone’s neck and she could smell salt, blood, and faintly some kind of sweetly fragrant shampoo. She wasn’t sure why, but Hermione knew she was terrified. Terrified. But still he kissed her. His tongue was gentle against her own and his mouth tasted of spearmint toothpaste. Outside of the memory, lying in satin emerald sheets on her back, Hermione’s eyes flew open. She stared up at the canopy, gasping for air when she realized it was morning. She rubbed her eyes and sat up in the bed with a stretch.
“Good morning, Hermione! Did you rest well?” Garderobe asked as she tossed over a new dress for her to wear. The young witch smiled softly as she flexed every part of her body before scooting to the edge and attempting to stand.
“I slept hard. I don’t even remember falling asleep…”
“Well, I say. You had a busy day,” replied the wardrobe as Hermione stripped from her pajamas and slipped into her new gown. It was very similar to the one she’d worn to the castle but was gray and olive-green gingham. Hermione stepped into black house slippers and headed over to the chest of drawers. She took a silver-handled hairbrush from the vanity and began to brush her hair. With every stroke of the bristles, her chocolate curls grew wilder. By the time she was done, the strands surrounding her head were so bushy that she nearly couldn’t see. Hermione chuckled at herself and grappled around for her wand. She realized she’d left it in her pile of clothes in the bathroom and turned for the door.
“Oh, Hermione!” called the wardrobe as she left the room. “Give my love to the maestro.”
“I will!” she responded over her shoulder as she headed down the hall. Once in the washroom, Hermione found that her clothes were gone but her wand was neatly placed on the sink. She picked it up and tapped her mane of uncontrolled hair. Instantly the strands calmed into ribbons of smooth brown silk. She sighed and splashed some water on her face. She glanced at herself in the mirror and touched her own lips in wonder, thinking of the burning kiss from her dream. Or memory… or whatever it was…
“Hermione! Good morning,” came the friendly voice from Ella as she appeared in the open doorway. “Breakfast is ready.”
“Brilliant. I’m famished.” Hermione tucked her wand into her dress pocket then followed the stand eagerly through the castle. “How is the prince this morning?”
“Much better. Still a bit slow, but he’ll recover soon enough,” the umbrella told her as they rounded the stairs. Much to Hermione’s dismay, the stand immediately launched from underneath her and Ella went spilling down the steps all the way to the bottom.
“Ella!” Hermione cried as she raced down the stairs and collected the umbrella from the floor. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, yes, quite alright,” Ella groaned with a roll of her painted eyes. “I’m horrifically clumsy, you see. I fall down the steps at least once a day. My stand just rolls right out from underneath me!”
“If you’re sure…” Hermione bounced back to her feet as Ella slid herself back into her stand and the two of them were off again. By the time they were within fifty feet of the dining room, Hermione’s mouth was already watering. She rounded the corner to find Mrs. Potts, Chip, Lumiere, and Plumette bustling away on the table. Cogsworth, however, was still stationed up on a counter, his wooden face bitter as Froufrou frolicked in the floor by the fireplace. The prince was already seated at the table’s head, sipping from a cup that wasn’t Chipette. He glanced up when Hermione entered and instantly pushed to his feet. He dipped his head toward her and the witch felt her cheeks flush with color.
“Mademoiselle.”
“Monsieur.” She offered him a slight curtsey. She shuffled over to the seat at the far end of the table and took it. Instantly, the waitstaff prepared her a plate of incredible looking food. There were croissants with a sweet cream, fresh cut fruit, and slices of a baguette with jam. Mrs. Potts filled Chip with a piping brew of Earl Grey and the teacup slid to her companion’s side of the table. Hermione smiled, scooped Chipette up in her hands, and drank.
“Perfect. Exactly what I needed for a morning like this.”
The prince, who had taken a while longer to be seated, finally took his place at the head of the table and studied her with an odd kind of curiosity spreading across his face. “Did you rest well?” he asked as he picked up a piece of bread and smeared it with honey.
“Hard,” she replied as she tucked into the croissant- which was still mouthwateringly warm. “I don’t even remember falling asleep…” Much to her surprise, the serpent stuck an entire slice of baguette in his mouth and swallowed it whole. He licked his lips and sipped from his teacup again. Hermione’s cheeks flushed red as she subconsciously took smaller bites of her pastry. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better. Thank you,” he responded seamlessly as he repeated the motion again- this time with an entire apple. Plumette cleared her throat and he glanced over at her. The feather duster mouthed something that looked like ‘eat normal’ and it made Hermione chuckle. The prince nodded and picked up a slice of bread with jam. Hermione had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from bursting out laughing as he took the tiniest bite from one corner and chewed it like he didn’t know how. She swallowed down her giggle with another sip of Earl Grey. “And how are your injuries? How’s your arm?”
“Fine,” she replied truthfully. She looked up at him over the edge of her cup and realized he was watching her. The piece of bread was still caught between his clawed fingers, his scaly lips parted towards it. Hermione wasn’t sure why she did what she did next. She placed Chip down on the table, grabbed a croissant, and crammed as much of it into her mouth as she could. The prince burst out laughing as the slice of bread tumbled from his fingers.
“What are you doing?!” he managed around his cackles.
Hermione beamed through her full cheeks and began to chew as if she had forgotten how. It took her a few long seconds to get the pastry dissolved and she washed the massive gulp down with another sip of tea. She politely picked up her napkin and wiped the cream filling from the corners of her mouth. “What? I didn’t want you to feel bad about how you eat. I can take big bites too.” The prince laughed at her again, picked up another apple, and swallowed it whole.
…
{Thursday, May 9th, 2002}
Hermione spent the rest of the day with the serpent. He walked her through the grounds and showed her all that the land had to offer. The frosty gardens, the frozen pond, the orchards. After exploring the vast outside, he took her through the manor and showed her half its rooms. Hermione commented more than once about how so many of the spaces needed a woman’s touch. As the sun went down that evening, the two sat side by side in a sunroom that had stained glass windows for walls. All around them, the space was illuminated in shades of brilliant green. Viridian rays of light bounced off Hermione’s skin as she took notes on a little notepad she’d found in one of the castle’s many vacant rooms.
“And what else do you remember?” she asked him again as she lifted her head. The serpent chuckled at her a bit and rolled his eyes.
“That’s really it- I promise! I’ve told you everything I can recall.”
“You really have no idea who your parents are? Or where they went?” she asked with a sad look on her face. The prince shook his head.
“No. I can kind of recall my mother’s eyes. And my father’s voice. But it’s so incredibly distant…” His expression softened a bit. “It feels rather like I’m drifting in open water. I can see them on the shore, but it’s so far away… and every-time I start swimming, I think I’ll make the distance this time and perhaps be able to reach them…” He serpent reached out his hand as if he was extending his arm to a lifeline. “But then the waves push me backward and I’m even further away from them than I was when I began…” He curled his fingers into his palm and drew his hands back against his lap. He stared down at the scaly appendages and shrugged his shoulders with a heavy sigh. “I can’t even miss them, Hermione. How do you long for something you can’t remember?...”
“I’m sorry.” She placed a gentle hand on his knee. “I don’t remember my mother. At all. I can’t tell you what she looked like, what her name was, what she sounded like…” The witch shook her head. “All I’ve ever known is Papa. He’s always taken care of me.” She suddenly sounded quite sad and the prince glanced up at her with a conflicted expression on his face. “We’ve been a team for as long as I can remember- him and I. He creates the most incredible things and he taught me how. I can carve and paint… I used to make very intricate music boxes and he made various magical devices. We’d spend hours outside our house in the garden working on our inventions together…”
“You must love him very much,” the serpent whispered softly and Hermione nodded.
“Oh, with all my heart.”
“You… you could go,” he offered and she blinked at him in surprise. “If you want to be with him. I… I am not without a heart. A girl should be with her father…”
“I made a promise. We shook on it,” Hermione responded quickly, shocked at how much conviction was in her voice. She wasn’t sure why, but the thought of the prince ushering her away made her heart ache. I was so eager to leave last night… What’s changed between then and this morning? What’s the matter with me?... “I’m staying until you’re sick of me.”
He chuckled slightly. “Well then, Hermione. You may just be stuck here forever.”
She flashed him a smile. “That may be fine with me.”
He shook his head at her incredulously. “I don’t understand you. You’re confusing, do you know that?”
“Part of my charm,” Hermione responded as she leaned back against the couch. “I’m trying to bewitch you.”
The prince just laughed and Hermione couldn’t help but smile.
…
They spent the rest of the evening in high spirits. Talking, laughing, and tossing witty comments back and forth. Dinner had been exquisite and Hermione ate way too much. By the end of the night, the witch found herself exhausted as the prince led her to her room. She paused outside the door then turned on her feet and continued swiftly down the hall. The serpent blinked in surprise but didn’t follow her.
“Where are you going? You said you were tired.”
“Oh, I’m absolutely drained,” she called over her shoulder to him as she made her way toward the washroom. “But I am desperate need of a bath. I don’t like being filthy.”
“Shall I grab you fresh clothes from the Madame Garderobe?” his voice echoed as she turned the corner.
“Yes please!”
Hermione left the door open as she began to brush the snarls out of her hair. She smiled a bit when she heard the soft tapping of his claws upon the hard stone floor. Then the prince appeared in the doorway and extended a silky silver nightgown and a fluffy black robe to her. She noticed he was watching her struggle to comb a knot out of her hair and tilted her head a bit at him. “Can you help me?” she asked after a moment when she resigned to defeat. “I can’t seem to get this bit.” For a moment, he seemed not to have heard her. Then he moved into the room cautiously and laid her clothes across the sink.
He took the brush from her hands and began to gently work out the mass of curls that was tangled at the base of her skull. Hermione watched him in the mirror, his snake eyes focused on the task at hand. She took in the beastly shape of him with his intimidating height and scaled skin. I don’t know though… It isn’t so bad… He really isn’t all that scary… Color flushed to her face when he glanced up at her and met her eyes in the mirror. She looked away as he handed her back the hairbrush.
“All done.”
“Thank you.” Hermione turned to face him and she found that he was holding his breath. And so am I… She forced herself to exhale as she blinked slowly at him. “You only showed me half of the castle today,” she said after a moment and he nodded.
“That’s right. Walking the grounds took up a great deal of our time. And I’m slow from the cold still.”
“So tomorrow I can see the rest?” she pressed and he chuckled slightly at her.
“If you like.”
“Cogsworth mentioned a library?”
“Oh, yes!” The prince seemed suddenly quite excited. “It’s grand, truly. I’ll show you tomorrow first thing after breakfast.”
“Do you promise?” she challenged and he blinked in surprise at her.
“I promise.” Now it was Hermione’s turn to look taken off guard. He lifted his hand and extended a scaly pinky to her. She smiled softly and met his eyes again. He had a gentle expression on his face. “My… parents and I… it’s one of the only things I can remember. When we really wanted to take each other seriously and knew something was important, we’d pinky promise. Silly, I know, in a world of magic where there are Unbreakable Vows and Life Debts and…” Hermione hooked her pinky finger on his own and he trailed.
“Tomorrow after breakfast,” she repeated. He chuckled and nodded his head. Then, much to her absolute shock, he shifted his hand and cupped her fingers with his own. He lifted her arm until her knuckles were under his lips. He kissed the reverse side of her palm and Hermione’s face filled with color as she stared into those warm silver eyes.
“Tomorrow after breakfast it is then. Goodnight, Hermione.” He released her, turned on his feet, and was gone.
She stood there breathless for several moments until her senses came back to her. Hermione took a shaky step backward into the room and closed the door. She shook herself to try and rid her body of the uncomfortable warmth that was prickling up her spine. She shuffled out of her clothes then sank into the tub with a sigh. She let the water run warmer and fill higher than she had before and leaned her head back against the porcelain lip. Hermione closed her eyes and instantly fell back into another world.
She was alone in a giant bath somewhere in Hogwarts. Soapy bubbles covered the surface of the water as Hermione leaned her head against the side- mirroring the motion she’d made inside the manor. She was back in the kiss again. Feeling warmth, tasting mint, chasing some type of fearful high. Then another thought struck her- a moment within the memory. Rough hands grasping a broomstick. Yearning for those hands to be on her. Touching her. Caressing her. Inside her… Hermione’s own fingers traced her skin. Spearmint toothpaste. Her left hand slid between her thighs as she parted her legs for herself. A charming smile. White teeth… marks of them in her skin… Hermione ran her middle finger in a soft motion around the top of her crest. She arched her back into her own touch as her lips parted in a soft sigh.
“Yes… yes…” She bit her lip to try and silence herself. Nobody ever came up to this room because of Moaning Myrtle. But she didn’t need an audience. Her speed increased as warm slick coated her fingers even through the water. She pushed against herself shamelessly and released her bottom lip as her eyebrows furrowed in delight. “Yes, Ron… Yes…”
The current Hermione’s eyes opened. Ron? Did I… she… say Ron? Not Ronald Weasley, surely… She was trembling. Without even knowing how she’d done it, she realized she had echoed the actions of her other self. Her left hand was pulled between her thighs as her middle and index finger worked over her aching clit again and again in quick circles. A bead of sweat formed on her upper lip as she tilted her head back and rolled her hips against herself. Her eyes drifted close again but this time, she saw someone she’d never met. But he felt as real as the warm water around her.
He was older than the portrait in the West Wing. More seasoned than the boy from the corners of her mind. She saw a tall, pale, handsome man with moonlight fair skin. He had an angular skull with a sharp jawline and lovely facial features: high cheekbones, platinum white hair, and above all else- nearly ghostly silver eyes. He was standing in the doorway of the washroom, his predator-like gaze drinking her in as he fixed the unlevel cuffs of his black dress shirt. He tilted his head at her and a strand of blond hair shifted over his angled brows.
“Good,” he whispered to her. His voice was calm, calculative, gentle. “Just like that, love…”
Hermione’s fever pitched. She pulled up from the tub as her eyes opened. Her lips parted in a soft cry as she pushed herself over the edge. His silver irises echoed in her mind as the climax burned her so deeply it threatened to scorch her soul. Then, and only then, for just a moment, the name came to her again.
“Draco… Draco Malfoy.”
Chapter 11: What Makes a Monster
Summary:
{Hagrid, Remus, and Hermione}
Hagrid and Remus discuss a plan to rescue Hermione from the evil prince. Meanwhile, the Golden Girl is settling in quite comfortably to her new life at the manor. Tension is building with our favorite soon-to-be lovers as pieces of who they were start to break through the curse.
Notes:
Not much to say here besides hello my starlets. <3 I hope you enjoy this chapter. Drink some water, yap with me in the comments, and have fun on your journey to the stars!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
{Friday, May 10th, 2002}
“… I tore off my mask so as not to lose one of her tears and she did not run away! And she did not die. She remained alive, weeping over me…”
The soft, gentle voice woke Hagrid from his slumber. He opened his eyes to find he was lying on a slightly familiar bedroom floor. Across from him, Remus Lupin sat upon a pillow with a book in his hands that was frayed around the corners with pages yellowed from time. The lycan lifted his head when Hagrid stirred and snapped the book shut as the half giant lulled ungracefully to a sitting position.
“You’re alright!” Remus sounded nearly ill with relief. He unceremoniously unfolded from the floor and hurried out of sight, only to return a moment later with a fresh cup of tea. “Hagrid, I was so worried. I thought perhaps that you’d been bitten…”
“How did I get here?” the colossal man asked as he took the little cup into his giant hands with a grateful nod of his head. “How did we get away from the spiders?”
“I’m quite skilled with a wand, it turns out,” Remus told his friend as he returned to the pillow with a small smile. “I’m sorry your current arrangements aren’t more comfortable…”
“Is this how ya sleep? In a mattress on the floor?” Hagrid asked and Remus wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“It’s all there is inside the shack. Anything I’ve tried to bring in or change; I just tear to shreds during the cycle…”
“Oh, Remus. We can work out something, surely. Ya know my ‘Ermione and I can fix…” Hagrid nearly dropped his teacup. His eyes were wide as he stumbled to his feet. “Remus, ‘Ermione! She’s still in the castle with that ‘orrible beast.”
“I know, my friend. I know.” Lupin’s eyes were swimming with apologetic sorrow as he shook his head. “I couldn’t go on without you to guide me. And the Acromantula were too mighty. I barely got us out of there with our lives.”
“How did you manage to get me here?” Hagrid asked suddenly as he glanced around the weathered room. Remus chuckled as he fidgeted with his hands nervously.
“Like I said, turns out I’m pretty good with a wand. Levitation spells work wonders…”
“How long was I out?” Hagrid demanded and Remus blinked slowly at him.
“It’s been over two days. I kept trying to rouse you, but you slept through everything I attempted to do. I think you’re in shock, Hagrid…”
“Two days?!” The half giant roared. “I’ve let her be there with him for that long?! We ‘ave to go, Lupin. We ‘ave to go right now…”
“Go?! So we can be chased out by the Acromantulas again?” the lycan reasoned and Hagrid threw up his hands in exasperation. “And who’s to say that if we did make it there, that the prince wouldn’t just imprison us too? Then we’d all be trapped- and trust me when I tell you that you don’t want to be locked in a room with me during a full moon. It isn’t as easy as the two of us just meandering up to the castle. We need a plan.”
Hagrid felt dread seep into every pore on his body. Only because he knew his friend was right. The half giant dropped his face into his readied hands and began to cry. Remus’ gaze softened affectionately at seeing his companion so upset and placed a hand on his arm. “But once we do have a plan, Hagrid… I promise I’ll help you in any way I can. Hermione is my friend. Like you, she has an uncommonly kind heart. Which is more I can say for nearly anyone else in this godforsaken village. I will not stop until I bring your girl home to you. Okay? But we have to have a plan first.”
Slowly, Hagrid’s sobbing began to ease. He glanced down at his only friend and saw the deepest sincerity swirling in his bloodshot hazel eyes. Hagrid pulled Remus into a tight, nearly bone-crushing hug and the lycan gasped for breath against the embrace.
“H-Hag… Hagrid…” he wheezed.
“Thank ya, Mr. Lupin,” cried the half giant as he released him. “Oh, bless ya. Bless ya.”
…
“That was a wonderful breakfast,” Hermione said in a chipper voice to the prince as she took his arm. They walked side by side through the castle- headed to places unexplored to her. She was nearly vibrating from excitement at seeing the library.
The solo events of the night before were mostly forgotten. She remembered having the prince help her brush her hair and then climbing into the tub in the washroom. Everything after that was a blur (though she, much to her own embarrassment, could recall the orgasm she’d given herself in the bath). Hermione had slept hard and didn’t dream. She woke up in a good mood with most of the soreness from the forest fight gone from her body. She had bolted out of bed and down the stairs in sets of two to meet the prince for breakfast. He better keep his promise!
And, in fact, he did.
As they neared two massive twin doors, he turned to her and offered a fang-toothed smile. “Close your eyes. I want it to be a surprise.” Hermione chuckled, smiled softly, and obliged. She heard the door hinges creak as he pushed them open. Her heart leapt into her throat when she felt his cool, scaly fingers slide over her face. “Alright. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. Take a few steps forward… Oh, watch out for my tail!”
“Why is your tail in my way?” Hermione teased as she carefully scooted her black wedged shoes across the floor. The air was different inside the new room. Older, crisper. Like nobody had been inside for a long time. It was colder and, for just a moment, she wondered if the prince would be alright. Can’t have him freezing… A few more paces and he gently tugged at his grip around her face. She obediently stopped walking and her body collided with his own. Hard muscles settled against her back under plates of green scales. She exhaled air until it nearly burned her lungs when his hot breath scorched her neck.
“Alright. Open up.” His hands fell away. Hermione pried one eyelid open. Then the other. She saw the prince’s arm move around her and his wand flicked toward the drawn coverings on the windows and they moved aside. Hermione’s breath stilled. Her hands flew to her mouth as light filled the room and illuminated rows upon rows- shelves upon shelves. Every corner, every nook, every inch was filled with books. Small novels, huge dictionaries, paperbacks, hardcovers. She spun on her heels away from him to take in all the incredible tomes. Her hands were still over her mouth as tears streaked down her face.
“Oh… oh my God…”
“You like it? Is it what you hoped for?” he asked in a tentative voice. She could hardly speak through her thrill as chills raced up her arms.
“It’s… it’s a bit dark in here. We could use some extra overhead lighting. And perhaps a fresh coat of paint. It needs to be cleaned.”
“I’ll send for Plumette and the other dusters,” he told her with a waver in his voice. Oh no. Does she hate it because it’s dirty? Hermione must have heard the worry in his tone, for she turned abruptly on her feet and threw her arms around his neck. The prince’s eyes lit with surprise as he gripped her waist to keep her from making him stumble. Hermione pulled her head back and he saw fresh tears were running down her cheeks as she leaned in and kissed him once along the jaw. Something sparked in the serpent’s mind. A memory, perhaps.
He was staring at someone who looked exactly like her. Only she was younger then with anguish in her eyes and anger boiling across her face. She had two boys with her, one a ginger and one with spiky black hair. He didn’t know why- but he hated them both. Then she reared back and slapped him dead across the face, nearly in the very spot Hermione’s lips had just touched. The prince shook his head and the moment was over. He carefully lowered Hermione back onto her feet and brushed her tears away with his scaly thumbs.
“I love it, my prince. I absolutely adore it,” she told him with a trembling voice.
“Well, if you fancy it so much, it’s yours.” He cupped her chin and lifted her head so that those syrupy depths were crashing into his silver pools. “Paint it, decorate it, change whatever you want to change. Make it your own.”
“Do you mean it?” she whispered and he nodded.
“I do. We can do it together, if you like. Where would you like to start?”
“It needs a proper dusting,” she replied as she placed her hands on her hips. “Let’s start there. And then, once it’s clean, we can work on the other things.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.” The prince clapped his hands. “Plumette! Bring your sisters to the library at once!” he called. A few moments later, the familiar feather duster came twirling in with half a dozen more of her kind behind her. She stopped short of the two and dipped her head.
“You summoned me, master?”
“Hermione is now in control of the manor’s library and everything that exists inside of it. She has requested that it be deep cleaned so we can make it more to her liking. I know the room is quite large, but are you ladies up to the task?”
“Aren’t we always?” Plumette chuckled as she spun into the air. “You heard the man! Spik and span!”
…
Two hours later, Hermione was on the third floor of the library pulling down books that were older than any wizard she knew. She read the covers and gave a nod of her head. “Historical fiction! These go in the section to the right on the second floor.” She peered over the railing and the prince looked up at her from inside a ring of books he was sorting for her. Hermione flicked her wand at the few she’d just gathered and whispered ‘Wingardium Leviosa’. They lifted into the air, over the banister, and floated down into the serpent’s waiting hands. “They’re in alphabetical order already.”
“Ma’am yes ma’am!” he called up to her as he headed up the staircase to the middle layer of the library to file away the books.
Hermione smiled softly to herself as she turned back to the shelf in front of her and continued to organize.
…
By the time night fell, they’d managed to get only a quarter of the library in some type of order. Hermione was draped across the emerald green sofa with her scarred arm over her head in exhaustion. Plumette, the rest of the feather dusters, and any of the staff who had come to help, were all splayed throughout the room- snoring loudly from a long day of work. The prince sat in a wingchair off to the side, his plain black trousers covered in dust and book debris. He glanced around at the room which was now clean, tidier even still in its chaos than it had been in years, and then stared up at the crystal chandelier that was centered on the ceiling.
“I think I want the fixings on that to be gold and not silver,” Hermione said to him and he startled a bit from her voice. Her eyes were closed and he assumed she’d been sleeping. He nodded slowly as he leaned back in the chair. “There’s a lot of silver and obsidian in this house. So much is painted black or dark green. It makes everything feel so dark and small.”
“Silver and dark green are Slytherin pride,” the serpent challenged and Hermione cracked open an eye to look at him.
“And I’m a Gryffindor, my prince. I prefer gold and warm colors.”
“So what will you paint the library then? Gryffindor banner red?”
“No, I don’t think so,” she replied as she sat up and glanced around. “The silver will be gold. That will brighten everything up a bit. And the black… I think I’ll just paint it a brighter shade of green. It will look lovely, the two colors together. Don’t you agree?”
He didn’t. But her eyes were shining so much that he didn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. He smiled. “It’ll be beautiful, Hermione.”
“Do you think I could get a ladder?” she asked as she gestured up to the higher floors of the library. “Three of them? That roll? I can’t reach all the books on the upper shelves without magic and I just think it’ll add so much whimsy and warmth to the room.”
“Anything you wish shall be yours,” he replied as he sipped from a cup of long cold tea. Hermione wrinkled up her nose at it and shook her head.
“We could go to the kitchen? I’ll make you something warm.”
“Aren’t you tired?” the prince asked as she pushed to her feet. He chuckled and followed her.
“Oh, I’m exhausted. But I can’t let you drink cold tea in my presence. What would Mrs. Potts say if she were awake?”
The two of them walked side by side in silence the entire way to the kitchen. When they got there, Hermione greeted the stovetop and began to boil a kettle of water in a teapot that was definitely not alive. The serpent watched her with those keen silver eyes as she poured the steaming liquid into two cups. She clinked her own against the one in his hand and they sipped in silence for a moment. Hermione tucked a stray piece of hair out of her dirt-smudged face and lifted her gaze just in time to catch the prince staring at her. Her heart started to pound in her chest when he didn’t look away.
“Why do you always stare at me like that?” she asked in a soft voice that trembled more than she wanted it to. “Like… like you’re hunting me.”
“I’ve never laid my eyes on anything like you before, Hermione. I beg your pardon,” he responded quickly- gently. But there was a hungry edge to his tone that made the hair along her nape stand up. “You are simply the most divine creature I have ever seen. It’s hard for a predator to drop his focus when he sees something he wants to devour.” The words came quickly and Hermione saw him freeze once they were spoken. Panic crossed his expression and he sat the teacup down roughly on the counter. “I… I didn’t mean to offend…”
Hermione pushed her fingers against his lips to silence him. She was trembling so badly she nearly dropped her cup, so she sat it down abruptly and spilled tea across the counter. Her scar burned. Her breathing was shallow. She was faintly, and embarrassingly aware, that she was throbbing between her legs. It’s hard for a predator to drop his focus when he sees something he wants to devour…
“Nobody has ever said anything like that to me before,” she told him in a shaky voice as she moved her fingers from his mouth and traced them down the curve of his neck. “They just… talk about how odd I am. How I’m different. That I’m too witty or too snobby or…”
“You’re brilliant,” he interjected with a ferocity to his voice that she hadn’t expected. It forced her gaze from the small of his throat to his face. “You’re kind, brave, and incredibly intelligent. Not just witty- you’re smart. I can talk to you and hold an actual conversation. A mind like yours shouldn’t be wasted on the glances of lesser men that can’t be bothered to understand you.”
She swallowed hard. “And you could understand me?”
“I could if you’d let me.”
He stared into her eyes. Silver pools crashed into chocolate hues. Then another memory sliced through him. Something from another world. He was looking at that girl who could have been Hermione again. She was angry at him- like last time. They were younger here, much younger. But he heard nearly snake-like venom ooze from his own voice as he snapped at her.
{“No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood!”}
The word seared through the prince like fresh fire. He glanced down at the scar on her arm and felt a horrible sense of dread and guilt stir in the pit of his stomach. Hermione had both hands on his torso. She was staring into his face. No, not my face. This face. A monster… I’m a monster… The prince took a step back and hurt blazed across her expression.
“What’s wrong?...”
“Y-You’re exhausted,” he managed after a moment, his gaze still fixed on the scar on her arm. A word. A horrible word. A word I once called her. What if… what if I did that to her?... In another life… He couldn’t bear the thought of it. “You should get some rest.”
“What did I do?” she asked in a small voice and he flinched at hearing how wounded she sounded. “My prince?...”
“I’m a monster,” he told her sternly and Hermione froze at the ice in his tone. “I don’t deserve your kindness. I don’t deserve access to you or the want to get to know you…”
“What about what I deserve?” she challenged and he finally tore his gaze away from her arm to look at her face again. Something about her expression, bold and strong even though she was clearly frightened, resonated with him. It was familiar and warm in a way he didn’t understand.
Hermione took small steps forward and closed the space between them. He tried to back away but was now against the counter. She reached out a hand and cupped his scaly cheek. “What about what I think? You and I have a deal. I agreed to stay here forever. I would like for ‘forever’ not to be miserable. I would like to be happy, if I can. And I can’t have that if I live under the same roof as a stranger. Don’t push me away.”
“I’m a monster,” he repeated and Hermione actually bared her teeth at him.
“I have seen monsters worse than you, my prince. Scales, fangs, and a tail do not make you a horror. How you treat others, your heart, that’s what makes up who you are…”
“And how do you know who I am, Hermione? I’ve known you less than three full days. And in that time, I have: kidnapped your father, imprisoned you, threatened to let you starve, screamed at you, and frightened you so badly you’ve fled…”
“And you’ve also: released my father, offered to let me go, saved my life, dined with me, gifted me a library, and helped me brush my hair!” she snapped in a voice so filled with emotion that it made his legs tremble. “I don’t… I don’t know. I just… I just do.” She felt stupid for such a lackluster reply. Especially after he called me brilliant. Hermione held his gaze but saw a deep cloud of uncertainty swirling in his silver depths.
“I just know, alright? You have forever to prove me wrong, to show me that I’m a horrible judge of character. You have until the end of time to convince me you’re a true monster. But in my experience of the kind…” She tilted her head as her heart drummed in her chest. “A monster doesn’t tell you he wants to devour you. He just digs his teeth in and doesn’t mind if you scream.”
The prince held her gaze. He brushed his thumb shakily across Hermione’s lips. For just a moment, he ached to kiss her. But he knew her soft flesh would meet reptilian scales and the thought of her beautiful mouth touching his cursed maw felt insidious. Instead, he took her hand in his own and lifted her fingers to his lips. He kissed the reverse side of her palm, never breaking eye contact as he did.
“Goodnight, Hermione,” he whispered to her and, before she could say another word, he pulled from her grasp and was gone. The witch touched her mouth where his fingers had been and her eyes sparkled with tears she didn’t quite understand. She exhaled all the air in her lungs and gave her head the smallest shake.
“Goodnight, my prince.”
Notes:
The spoken line at the very start of the chapter is a direct quote from the book 'The Phanton of the Opera'.
PS- I finally have a cover art for this work! Hooray! It's under the summaries on the first chapter and I ADORE it. What do y'all think?
Chapter 12: Inside the Pages of a Book
Summary:
{Charlie Weasley}
Charlie calls the H.R.B. to inform them of what he and Augusta have learned. He also makes an unsettling discovery about who Ron is within the world of Beauty and the Beast.
Notes:
Hey everyone. Not a lot of notes for this guy. I did want to say that the version of 'Beauty and the Beast' that I'm referencing is the 1994(?) copy. I actually had it as a child and might purchase it again as a proper reference for this project. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this little slice into Charlie's reality... because the next chapter is... oof. x)
Drink some water for me. <3 Love y'all. See ya Monday and enjoy your journey to the stars!
Chapter Text
{Saturday, May 11th, 2002}
“Thank you all for agreeing to meet on such a short notice. Again.”
“Honest to God, Charlie, it’s the middle of the night!” Arabella Figg yawned into her hand as the older woman curled up tightly on the couch at The Burrow and tucked in closely to Xenophilius Lovegood. The eccentric, white-haired man rubbed his eyes and blinked up at the younger wizard as Charlie paced in front of the clock with all the pictures of his family on it pointing to ‘lost’.
“I know. And I thanked you all for coming. But this is of the greatest importance. Augusta and I have spent the last couple of days examining a very specific piece of evidence to try and figure out how to decipher it… And you all will want to be involved in this as well.” Charlie picked up the enchanted copy of Beauty and the Beast from the little end table under the clock and showed it to the room. Everyone let out a collective groan.
“Charles, please… not this again,” sighed Xenophilius in exasperation. “The damn children’s book…”
“A muggle children’s book,” added Madame Maxime and a ripple of agreement spread through the room. “We’ve all seen it before.”
“But none of us have ever actually acknowledged it,” it was Augusta who spoke. The moment the matriarch of the brigade strode into the room in her ugly flocked nightgown, everyone’s murmurings grew silent. “We all swept it under the rug and didn’t pay it any mind because it appears to be a harmless muggle book. It isn’t. It’s the only solid clue we ever found and is the greatest link we have to getting to the bottom of the Vanishing of Hogwarts.”
“You have our attention,” called Apolline Delacour. Charlie nodded and lifted the book up in the air.
“As you all know, the other night I successfully brewed the tracking potion we’ve been working on perfecting for the last few months. I sent a letter off with Archimedes- my dearest friend and the most intelligent owl I’ve ever come into contact with. He returned within a day and when I asked him where he’d taken the letter, he led me to this. There are orange flecks on the center pages from the potion. I think that Archimedes did exactly what I asked him to do. He found them. They’re in here.”
“In… inside the book?” Xenophilius questioned with a raised eyebrow. Charlie nodded.
“Yes. Precisely.”
“What makes you believe that?” challenged Miss Figg and Charlie stepped into the ring of mismatched witches and wizards. He showed them the cover- which looked harmless enough. It depicted a lovely young woman in a red winter dress. She was walking side by side with a tall serpent-looking creature who was wearing fine clothing that reflected some type of wealth. All around the two of them were fluttering little blue birds. Everyone held their silence indifferently as Charlie shook the book at Xenophilius.
“That girl on the cover. Doesn’t she look like a drawn version of Hermione Granger?”
“Could be. Or it could just be a brunette. There is more than one in the world, Charlie…”
“Listen. Please. Can you all just try to keep an open mind about this?” the Weasley challenged and everyone nodded- albeit reluctantly- in agreement. Charlie turned the page of the book to open it. “There’s a preface here to the story. ‘Once upon a time in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was spoiled, selfish, and unkind. But then, one winter’s night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold’…” Charlie read from the book then turned the page. He flipped it around to show them a stained-glass artwork of a woman with long, curly black hair bewitching a young man who was covered with scales.
“The witch looks like Bellatrix Lestrange to me,” Augusta said loudly and a few members of the brigade glanced at each other. “I would recognize that crazy bitch anywhere.”
“Bellatrix Lestrange is dead,” Madame Maxime argued. “Molly Weasley killed her at zhe Battle of Hogwarts.”
“Yeah, and Lord Voldemort was killed in Godric’s Hollow in 1981. He didn’t stay dead now did he?” muttered Arabella and Maxime shot her a nasty look.
“Stop your bickering and pay attention to Charlie!” snapped Augusta and all eyes turned back toward the book in the redhead’s hand. He flipped the page again and this time, there was no denying the familiarity of the people on the pages. Walking down a busy street with books in her arms, the pretty brunette was intercepted by a tall man who had red hair, a long nose, blue eyes, and freckles spattered across his face.
“Iz… iz that Ron?” asked Apolline as she placed a hand over her mouth. “Oh that picture looks just like your brother!”
“That’s what I thought,” Charlie replied as he turned to the next page. Now the brunette was standing beside a huge man with a wiry black beard. At the sight of him, Madame Maxime broke out in a wail and snatched the book from Charlie’s hands.
“It’s Hagrid!”
“It is,” Augusta agreed. “We’ve flipped through the book as far as it will let us go. We’ve seen so many people. Neville, Harry, Arthur, Percy, Fred, George…”
“Fleur and Bill?” asked Apolline hopefully but Augusta just shook her head.
“No. But not everything has been revealed to us yet.”
“What is that supposed to mean?!” Xenophilius nearly sobbed. “You’ve seen so many people, but not my Luna! It’s a bloody book! Just turn the page!”
“It isn’t… it isn’t that simple.” Charlie sighed as he sat down on the couch beside Arabella Figg. He glanced around the room at all the prying eyes and his shoulders sagged. He held Apolline’s gaze as he parted the book almost halfway. The pages were blank. A murmur began to spread around him and Charlie shook his head. “This is a different kind of magic than anything I’ve ever seen before- and I’ve travelled all over the world. The book… writes itself. Like it’s happening in real time. Look…” He flipped back a few pages. Ink, words, and drawings sprawled across the pages as if it had just been properly published.
Depicted in the images were the serpent creature again and the woman who looked like Hermione Granger. The beast seemed to be presenting her with a library. Charlie rolled back a few pages until he got to where the young woman had herself thrown across a bed with emerald sheets. He pointed to her arm where the word ‘mudblood’ could faintly be seen.
“Is it really her then?” Xenophilius asked with a slight tremble in his voice. “You think that’s Hermione Granger?”
“I do, yes.”
“Then who’s zhe monster?” inquired Maxime. Charlie and Augusta traded glances. She nodded to him once.
“We believe… the prince is Draco Malfoy.”
“Malfoy?!” echoed the room and Charlie nodded.
“The castle is Malfoy Manor. I’m absolutely sure of it…”
“Is there any way we could confirm that?” pressed Miss Figg. “Is there someone we could show pictures of the castle? Maybe they could confirm?...”
“The only people who I’d trust to do that are either trapped in these pages- or dead. I’m not going to Azkaban to show a muggle children’s book to an imprisoned Death Eater to see if he can confirm rather or not these are Lucius Malfoy’s couch cushions.” Charlie stared down at the pages as he flipped through them until they were blank again. A murmur of agreement rippled around the room once more.
“Why do the pages run out?” asked Xenophilius and Charlie’s mouth twitched. He’d been dreading this question.
“I think… the story writes itself as they live it. There’s no more pages right now because the last thing Hermione and Draco did was see the library.”
“So tomorrow zhere could be another page?” inquired Apolline, her eyes watering. Charlie nodded slowly.
“Maybe. Hypothetically. It isn’t an exact science. I…” His head suddenly shot up. He glanced around the room and then cursed in frustration when he realized there was someone critical missing from the group. “Oh for fuck’s sake! Nobody brought Dudley?!” Everyone looked around as Charlie smacked his forehead with his hand. “For the love of Merlin, someone go get that boy! And see if he has a copy of this book. I want to compare some things.”
…
By the time Xenophilius returned with Dudley on his broom, nearly the entire brigade had retired for the night. Charlie was nodding in and out of sleep on the couch, his eyes crossing over his nose as he fought to stay awake. Augusta was already snoring in the wingchair and Arabella Figg was curled up on the opposite side of the sofa with a knitted blanket pulled up around her. Xenophilius stumbled over someone’s stray shoe as he entered the living room and it made Charlie jump to his feet. He pulled his wand just as Augusta roused from her sleep and did the same. Three wands pointed at each other and Dudley just raised his hands.
“Oi, didn’t you send for me? Why so hostile!”
“Sorry, Dudders… force of habit…” Charlie smiled apologetically as he dropped his wand. Augusta and Xenophilius did the same. Charlie ran a hand through his messy hair and lifted his head toward his friend. “Did you have a copy of it? The Beauty and the Beast?”
“Sure do! Had to do some digging to find it. That’s one of the reasons it took so long…” Dudley reached inside his cargo shorts and pulled out a tattered, slightly newer version of the book that Charlie had fallen asleep with in his hands. He took it from Dudley and his eyebrows furrowed. The Weasley looked up at August and motioned her over to him. The older witch approached him and peered at the books over his shoulder. Dudley’s version had different artwork with a completely different looking beast and an unfamiliar woman. Charlie looked up at Dudley expectedly.
“What’s her name? The girl?”
“Belle.”
“Belle…” Charlie handed the enchanted copy to Augusta. She began flipping through the pages at the same time as him and they would frantically look from Dudley’s version back to the one in Augusta’s hands. Everything appeared to be exactly the same except for the characters themselves.
“Freaky…” Dudley murmured as he leaned in to get a better look. “Why is the beast so different in your version?”
“Because it’s Draco Malfoy,” Miss Figg said in a matter-of-fact voice that made Charlie smile gratefully that at least somebody believed this theory.
“I don’t know what a Draco Malfoy is,” Dudley told them and it made Charlie genuinely chuckle for the first time in what felt like years.
“He’s… a selfish prat. Pureblood. Was constantly giving Harry, Ron, and Hermione a hard time in school,” the Weasley told him and Dudley nodded. Charlie realized he was trying to stifle a yawn. “Perhaps that’s enough for tonight and we can analyze this more in the morning?”
“Might be a good idea,” Xenophilius grumbled. “I’m exhausted.”
“Dudley, you’re more than welcome to stay the night,” Charlie told his friend and the muggle man smiled at him thankfully.
“I’d really appreciate that, mate.”
“Arabella, you can stay as well.”
“Oh, thank you, Charlie.”
“I can put you up in one of the rooms?...” he offered, but she’d already closed her eyes and nearly drifted back to sleep. He shook his head at her then lifted his gaze to Xenophilius. “I’ll send word in the morning if any of the other pages fill up.”
“Alright. Talk to you tomorrow, Charlie. Goodnight, all…” And then the eccentric wizard was gone out the door and off into the night.
Charlie showed Dudley to one of the empty rooms then set off to his own quarters with both copies of the book in his hands. He settled into his bed and found himself unable to sleep. He cracked open Dudley’s version and skimmed through it up until the point where the enchanted copy cut off. His eyebrows furrowed a bit and he was just about to turn the page when there was a knocking on his door. He smiled.
“Come in, Augusta.”
The door opened and the older witch stepped inside. She sat on the edge of his bed and pulled her robe tightly around her. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Me neither.”
“What are you studying?”
“Just… the parallels. I’m trying to figure out who is who and what is what in here. Belle is an intelligent girl who likes to read, from what I can tell. She ends up the prisoner of the beast by offering herself in exchange for her father’s freedom.”
“That’s a very Hermione thing to do from the stories I’ve heard,” Augusta chuckled and Charlie couldn’t help but smile. His eyes were dark though with something akin to worry as he flipped back toward the beginning of the enchanted version.
“But… there’s a villain, so to speak…”
“The beast?”
“No, not him. A man who is pursuing Belle. He longs to make her his wife even though she protests. He… I think he’s the real bad guy of it all. I don’t know. I’m scared to keep reading…”
“How come?” Augusta’s eyebrows furrowed. She picked up the copy with their loved ones inside of it and turned to the last page that had words and color- the one with the library. “‘In the days that followed, The Serpent took Hermione’…” She froze. Charlie’s face paled.
“Is that really what it says?!”
Augusta nodded, her eyes wide, as she continued. “… ‘For walks in the garden, and he even gave her his library. In return, Hermione began to teach him to be more comfortable in his own skin and that he doesn’t have to be a perfect gentleman to be worth something. Slowly, it seems, the two were becoming friends… or something more’.”
Charlie flipped frantically to the page of Dudley’s version that mirrored the one in Augusta’s hand. He read over the words and shook his head in disbelief. “They’re not the same. They’re similar, but a lot is different… The names, obviously. In that copy, it says he gave her his library. In this one, it just says he showed it to her. It says here that Belle taught The Beast to be a gentleman. And all it says is that they were becoming friends. Do you… do you realize what this means, Augusta?”
She squinted her eyes at him and shook her head. “Charlie, you should know I have no clue what you’re about to say…”
“It means they’re changing the narrative. Their subtleties, their differences, their souls, it-it’s leaking through! They’re impacting the story.” He closed the muggle book and hugged it tightly to his chest. “That means there’s a chance for him then…”
Augusta tilted her head. “A chance for who, Charlie?”
The Weasley suddenly looked very troubled. He met his friend’s gaze and exhaled all the air in his lungs. “For Ron. In the Beauty and the Beast there is a true villain that isn’t the one you think it is. His name is Gaston. And in the enchanted version… It’s Ron. Ron’s the bad guy. And I think he’s going to do something horrible.”
Chapter 13: What Happens in the Library...
Summary:
{The Prince and Hermione}
Our Golden Girl gets settled into her new home and makes a bold move with her captor.
Notes:
Hey starlets! Sorry I'm a day behind with posting. Work was brutal this weekend and I didn't have time to edit my chapters for Monday. I'll try to make it up to you. <3
This chapter is the first with some requited spice to it. I've been waiting for it.
ALSO there is an updated list here of Enchanted Characters becauseee... we have two new introduced. (Shout out to Pepperjackcheeze who shot me an email begging for Pansy and Theo because I really wasn't going to include them buttt... Here we go.)
This chapter is kind of a turning point. Moving forward, because obviously explicit actions are NOT part of the children's book, Draco and Hermione are rewriting the narrative of Beauty and the Beast. More and more of their original personalities will begin to break through. We're building toward some more song-based chapters, so be ready for that.
Alright that's enough yapping. You guys know the drill. Drink some water for me, drop a comment, and enjoy your journey to the stars!
---
The Beast/The Prince- Draco Malfoy (obviously)
Lumière/The Candelabra- Lucius Malfoy
Plumette/The Feather Duster- Narcissa Malfoy
Cogsworth/The Clock- Peter Pettigrew
Mrs. Potts/The Teakettle- Molly Weasley
Chip(Chippette)/The Teacup- Ginny Weasley
Madame Garderobe/The Wardrobe- Andromeda Tonks
Maestro Cadenza/The Piano- Ted Tonks
(Ella)/The Umbrella Stand- Nymphadora Tonks
(Minnie)/The Coat Rack- Minerva McGonagall
Froufrou/The Piano Stool- Sirius Black
Bunny/Rabbit Stuffed Animal- Pansy Parkinson
Bear/Teddy Bear Stuffed Animal- Theodore Nott
The White Peacock- ... ... ... {I really want someone to guess it...}
Chapter Text
{Monday, May 13th, 2002}
“Be honest, what do you think?” Hermione asked in an exasperated voice as she placed her paint-spattered hands on her hips. The audience of waitstaff in front of her all looked around at the transformed library in a bit of awe. The cobwebs were gone, the grime was wiped away, and the grit had been swept. She’d kept her word and painted the dark finishes in the room a color closer to sage and switched out all the silver for Gryffindor gold. The books were now all organized and in their proper sections, coded in alphabetical order by title. Lumiere took a step forward and beamed up at her.
“It looks absolutely stunning, Mademoiselle.”
“Do you think he’ll like it? The prince?” she asked as she touched her lips thoughtfully. Lumiere shot Plumette a pointed look then glanced back at the witch again.
“I think he’ll love it. But remember the library is yours.”
“Yes, yes, I know. But it’s still in his castle and I want for him to enjoy the space too.” She nervously wiped her hands on her dirty green skirt. “Froufrou!” she said to the sleeping piano stool. He immediately hopped to his peg paws and turned toward her. She snickered at him then waved her hand. “Be a good boy and fetch the master.” The stool barked at her once, growled lowly at Cogsworth from where he was settled on the coffee table in front of the couch, and took off through the open doors. Hermione beamed from ear to ear then turned to the enchanted items. “Alright! Everyone in your places. I want the surprise to be exactly as we’ve practiced.”
…
The prince had woken long before the dawn. Another petal fell sometime in the early twilight hours of the day and had stirred him from his slumber. His heartbeat was slower now and even more of his already faded identity had been washed away. He’d opened his eyes in horror to realize that his vision was now less human and more snake-like with intense hues of color that marbled anything that had warm blood in its veins. He’d been unable to go back to sleep and took to the parapet instead. He watched the rose for a long time, afraid to blink just in case another petal was lost in the brief moment of lidded darkness. Eventually, without realizing he’d done it, he dozed off into an uneasy sleep only to be woken by a gentle, silky tapping on his arm.
“You really need to get in out of the cold!” snapped a less-than-kind young woman’s voice. The prince blinked open his eyes and knew instantly she was right. He’d been exposed to the whipping wind for far too long and now his mind was groggy and movements sluggish. He managed to stumble a few paces away from the open balcony and retreated deeper into the bowels of his destroyed bedroom. The serpent tucked himself inside a nest of shredded blankets and worn goose down. The faint patter of cushioned feet made him shift his glossy eyes toward the top of the heap of material he was resting in. He just opened his mouth to speak when a Slytherin green teddy bear with a silver bowtie and buttons for eyes popped its head over the edge and glared down at him. The stuffed animal placed its fluffy paws on its hips and sighed in exasperation.
“Truly, my prince… You must be more careful or you’ll freeze to death before the girl ever has a chance to fall in love with you,” it scolded in a mischievous, playful tone that suggested it was a few years younger than the rest of the help had been before the enchantment took hold. (It was also arguably a male voice, and thus was not the one who spoke to wake him). The prince chuckled as a silky bunny rabbit with black fur appeared beside the first toy and squinted her judgmental Slytherin green button eyes at him.
“Where are your blankets?! You need to cover up at once,” she snapped.
“F-Fine,” the snake tried to stutter but it only made the two creatures more frustrated. They disappeared from his sight then returned a moment later with a ragged-looking crocheted blanket between them. They hauled it into the prince’s nest and began to tuck him in- one working on either side of him to make sure as much of his scales were covered as possible. Then they climbed in beside him and snuggled against his chilled body for additional warmth.
“We’re here,” the bunny told him in a more gentle voice this time as she patted his side. “We’re here. Rest now, my prince. Rest.”
…
Froufrou’s excited barking drew the serpent from his slumber. His eyes slid open and he groaned as he rolled over on his other side and captured both the teddy bear and the stuffed bunny in his arm as he did. He squeezed them tight and curled into an even more secure ball as the two toys squirmed in his grasp.
“My prince,” struggled the teddy in an exasperated voice. “Can’t… breathe…”
“Five more minutes,” the snake grumbled as Froufrou clawed the door to his bedroom open and came bounding in, excitedly barking the entire way as he did. The plushy bunny pawed at the prince’s arms and he released her. “What is it, boy?” he asked with a groan as he unsteadily pushed to a more upright position. The piano stool skidded to a halt in front of him and wagged the fringe along one side that acted as a tail. The serpent patted the furniture on top of its ‘head’ and stretched again. The stuffed animals unfolded from his grasp and peered up at him curiously as the stool began to run back and forth between the door and his master.
“Now I can’t say for sure, my prince, but I think Froufrou wants you to follow him,” the bunny said as she rolled into a sitting position. She gave the serpent a little pat and he glanced down at her. “Are you feeling up to see where he goes?”
“I think so. If I fall, he’ll catch me,” the prince responded as he pushed shakily to his feet. He shivered and pulled up the tattered Afghan to wrap around his shoulders. The stuffed animals looked up at him warily as he took an unsteady step forward. “I’ll be alright. Just wait for me here, hm? I’ll be back in a little while.”
“Go to the main room instead. We’ll make your chair warm for you there by the fire,” the teddy bear called to him as the prince began to pad slowly after Froufrou as the stool bounced eagerly down the corridor. “Be careful!” both toys called together as the prince disappeared from their sight.
He shivered and pulled the blanket tighter around him as he wound through the castle and found Froufrou stopped in front of the closed doors to the library. Hermione stood facing him with her back to her favorite place in the manor. She leaned against the wood and smiled up at him. He chuckled warmly when he realized she had traces of green paint smeared on her cheeks and staining the tips of her fingernails. But then he saw her eyebrows pitch in concern and she took a step toward him.
“My prince, you’re shivering. Did you get too cold again?...”
“I’m alright,” he told her as she cupped his chilled cheek with her warm palm. “A couple of my personal caretakers saw after me.”
“Do I know them?” Hermione asked as she drew back in to herself and placed her hands on her hips. “Because I’ve had your primary waitstaff with me all day in the library.”
“Oh, uhm…” The prince looked away, embarrassed to tell Hermione about Bunny and Bear- who had been his favorite childhood toys and became enchanted by someone when the curse hit. He rubbed his arm nervously and shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t worry about it. Did you get the last of the romance books cataloged how you wanted them?”
Hermione squinted at him but didn’t push the topic. She nodded. “Yes. I’m all finished. I sent Froufrou to fetch you so I could show you the library. If you’d like to see it, of course?...”
“Hermione, you’ve been working yourself to death for days in there. I’d love to see it,” he responded warmly. She let out an excited squeak and clapped her hands together.
“Okay! But you have to close your eyes. And no peeking, okay? Those are the rules.”
“No peeking,” he agreed as he placed his hands over his eyes. Hermione stood up on her toes and waved her fingers in front of his face. When the prince didn’t react, she nodded to herself with a smug smile then placed herself behind him- careful to avoid his tail- and gave his shoulders a little prod.
“Alright, come on. Easy steps.” As he made his way forward, the library doors kicked open and Froufrou raced ahead of him. There was a delicious smell drifting in the air and he was aware of the light sound of soft piano music. Ah, the Maestro is here… A few more steps forward and Hermione tugged on him to stop his movement. The prince paused and she slid around to be in front of him again. His heart drummed in his chest when she took hold of his hands and gave him a little shake. “Alright. Open up.”
He carefully cracked open one eye lid. And then the other. The prince drew in a hard breath and looked around in awe. He chuckled to himself when he realized he’d been wrong about the green with the gold. It’s absolutely beautiful. The chandelier glittered overhead with a glimmering yellow finish and new enchanted fires burning inside the bulbs. The room was transformed- littered with hanging plants that made the space feel lively and warm. Hermione had hexed the curtains to turn them a royal gold that matched the fixings of all the metal in the room but they shimmered sage green when the wind blew through them. The Maestro had been cleaned and was stationed by the open window, playing a soft tune as Lumiere and Plumette danced in the air above him.
The prince turned to face Hermione and saw she was smiling up at him. She had a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies in one hand and a book he was unfamiliar with in the other. She extended the platter of sweets to him and the prince took one with a shake of his head in disbelief.
“Hermione, what you’ve done in here is incredible. It looks like a brand-new space. I really do love the green and gold…”
“And you thought you wouldn’t,” she teased as he stuck the cookie in his mouth and swallowed it without chewing- much to Mrs. Potts look of disapproval. He raised an eyebrow at her in surprise.
“I never told you I thought it wouldn’t look good…”
“You didn’t need to tell me that. I could read it on your face,” she teased as she sat down on the couch. She placed the cookies and the book on the coffee table and patted the space beside her. He settled in and took another sweet as Froufrou bounded over and offered himself up as a proper stool. The prince accepted gladly and reclined against the sofa with his feet propped up. Cogsworth, who was now across the room on top of the piano for good measure, took a deep breath and cleared his throat as Mrs. Potts poured two cups of fresh tea- the one in front of Hermione was Chipette of course, and the other for the prince was just a common mug.
“Mademoiselle Hermione proudly presents the new and improved Library of the Snake. Over a thousand books have been catalogued by genre and title and she is working on the restoration of family scrolls, translation parchments, and tomes in runes.”
“Thank you, Cogsworth,” Hermione told him brightly as she sat up straight to watch the prince’s face for a reaction. “So. What do you think? The rug, the plants, the little twinkling lights… is it too much?”
“No, I think it’s perfect.” He was trying very hard to bite back his desire to kiss her. He studied her face- freckled and pale and spattered with paint. Her doe-like brown eyes, her frizzy chocolate hair that was pulled back in a bun, her rosy lips. He stared at her mouth too long and knew she noticed. He looked away and took another cookie. “It’s exactly what I wanted you to do- make it your own. I was… I was wondering if perhaps you’d give the rest of the manor a little touch of Hermione? Some new paint, new fixings, some plants… Would you like that?” he asked her as he slowly found her gaze again. Hermione had both tears and stars in her eyes as she covered her mouth with her hands.
“The entire castle?...”
“Well, yes. It is your home too, after all. And I want for you to be comfortable here. Happy, if you can be.”
“Happy…” She dropped her hands and beamed at him. “I think I can manage happy. What room should we work on next?”
The prince hesitated for a moment. “Well... let's start in the West Wing."
"Your room first?" she questioned instantly and the prince flinched.
"My room last," he said finally. "It's the worst part of the castle and it could definitely use a woman’s touch. Some of this warmth would really bring it back to life. It will be a hell of a challenge though and I can’t… promise… I won’t get a bit touchy. There’s a lot of painful stuff in that side of the manor for me…”
Hermione placed a hand on his knee and sought his silver eyes. “If you yell at me, do I have permission to yell back?” The scales along his brow line raised at her and he chuckled.
“Absolutely.”
“But will you try to talk to me about things that are upsetting you without going straight to insanity?”
“I… I will try my hardest, Hermione. You have my word.”
“Alright. I’ll take that. Let’s get started then! To the West Wing!" She hopped to her feet and made for the door but the prince raced to her side and grabbed her wrist urgently.
“Oh, not right now!...” He realized a moment too late there was far too much panic in his voice. She glanced at him suspiciously and lifted her chin.
“Who is in the West Wing that you don’t want me to meet? Is it a former lover, my prince?” she asked him with a wry bat of her eyelashes that made the serpent’s knees shake. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed all the waitstaff were watching expectedly. When his silver eyes caught on them, however, they all swiftly turned their heads away as if they hadn’t been glued to the situation at hand. “Well? Is it?”
“You know I couldn’t remember even if that’s what they were,” he responded with a resigned sigh of defeat. “No, Hermione… I…” He groaned and ran his scaled hand nervously across the back of his neck. “I… There are two… enchanted members of the waitstaff that stay in my quarters- or around the West Wing… They’re a comfort to me…” He felt color fill the scales around his cheeks. “They’re… stuffed animals from my childhood. A rabbit and a teddy bear. I just call them Bunny and Bear…” He watched her face curiously. The prince was sure that she was going to laugh at him for such a weakness, but Hermione’s brown eyes just softened further and she shook her head.
“I’d like to meet them then. Shall we go?” She looped her arm through his own and they were off.
…
By the time they made it back to the prince’s living quarters, Bear and Bunny had already gone to prepare him a warmer place to recover in the main living area. The room, however, was bitterly cold. Hermione instantly looked to the serpent but saw a determined look on his face as he led her deep into the ruined room. He motioned toward the table that held the enchanted rose and Hermione approached it slowly with wonderous eyes.
“Another petal fell last night. Did you feel the castle shake?” he asked her and she shook her head.
“No. I was sound asleep.”
“Good, I’d have hated for it to scare you.”
Hermione glanced over her shoulder and saw the prince pick something up from the opposite table near a nest of feathers and shredded fabric on the floor. She tiptoed over to him and tilted her head when she saw him staring into the reflective surface of a little silver handled mirror.
“That’s pretty. Did it belong to your mother?”
“I don’t remember,” he sighed with a shake of his head. “I can’t recall where it came from now. I know it’s magic though. If you ask the mirror something, it will show you anything you want.”
That piqued Hermione’s interest. She dared to creep in closer and pressed her warm body against his cold scales. The prince shivered at the contact and glanced down at her with his predatory eyes. She reached out and touched the handle where his fingers gripped it tightly. “Anything?... It’ll show you anything you want to see?”
“Yes.”
“Have you tried to get it to show you your parents?” she asked him and he nodded sadly.
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“It glimmers then just continues to show me my own hideous face.”
“Your face is not hideous!” she snapped as she glared at him and the prince smiled a bit at the anger in her voice. “I happen to think you’re quite lovely.” But her eyes were trained on the mirror again. “So it doesn’t show you anything…” But then a thought occurred to her. Something mischievous and brilliant crept into the furthest corners of her devious, bold, beautiful Gryffindor brain as she glanced up at him again through her bronze eyelashes. “If I asked you to do something for me, would you do it?”
He met her gaze curiously and the scales of his left brow line lifted. “Perhaps. Depends on what it is.”
“If… say… I asked for you to use the mirror tonight at 11pm exactly to show you me, would you do it?”
He felt an odd pattering stirring in his chest and nodded slowly anyway. “Yes?...”
Hermione’s smile widened. “Perfect.”
“What are you planning?” he asked her as he shuddered, and Hermione decided that they’d had enough of the freezing West Wing.
“A surprise! Now come on. Let’s get ready for dinner. I don’t know about you, but I could eat a whole duck…” She held his eyes and winked at him – something that sent chills across the snake’s cold skin. “Bones and all. Without swallowing.”
…
Their dinner that night was exquisite. They’d had roasted duck- Hermione’s favorite- with a cranberry stuffing and sweet potato mash that was out of this world. The witch had insisted they separate after they shared a delectable mousse for dessert and the snake reluctantly agreed. Once they’d parted ways, the prince settled in by the fire in his wingchair upon a nest of new blankets and freshly fluffed pillows. Bunny and Bear had gone back to their post in the West Wing, so he kept Cogsworth nearby and listened to the timepiece recite Shakespeare until finally the hands on the clock’s face struck 11pm. With his heart racing in his chest, the prince pulled the mirror from inside his trouser pocket and stared at his own face in its reflective surface. He hesitated for only a moment then cleared his throat.
“Show me Hermione.”
The mirror shimmered and the library appeared before him. She’d dimmed the lights, drawn the curtains, and sent the staff away. The only thing the prince could see was her sitting on the couch in a green nightgown with a book on her lap. He tilted his head, his heartrate quickening and pulsing in his throat as she lifted her eyes from her reading and glanced around the room. She’s wondering if I’m watching… The serpent’s pupils narrowed as she closed her book and sat it aside. Then he saw her take the pins out of her hair until the silky chocolatey locks fell all around her shoulders in ribbons of brown silk. It was still wet in places so he knew she’d freshly showered.
“Are you there?” he heard her ask in a soft voice that made his bones ache. Then Hermione closed her eyes and leaned back onto the sofa and relaxed into the silky cushions. For a moment, the prince just watched her breathe in the warm candlelight and he wondered briefly if this was what Heaven was like. Just being able to observe Hermione in the library in a green nightgown. A nightgown made of fine silk. A nightgown made of fine silk that hugged her body in perfect places. A nightgown made of silk that hugged her body in perfect places with a plunging neckline. A nightgown made of silk that hugged her body in perfect places with a plunging neckline that was pooled up around her hips…
The prince’s breath caught in his throat. Heat seared into his face. He glanced over at Cogsworth but the clock seemed much more interested in reading through whatever work of Shakespeare he currently had in his hand. The prince bolted from the chair and headed steadily down the hall and away from the prying eyes of any of his waitstaff. He slipped into his destroyed bedroom and looked around for Bear and Bunny but they were nowhere to be seen. He coiled up in a corner furthest away from the cold and peered at the mirror again. Hermione had adjusted from her previous position and was now sitting on her knees with the straps of her nightgown slid down on her shoulders. She glanced around the room again then took the top lace between her fingers and pulled it down so that it gathered at her waist.
The serpent’s heartrate spiked. Her nipples were hard in the chilly air and the flesh around them was dark pink in the flickering candlelight. He saw her take her breasts in her hands and run her fingers from her chest, up her neck, and into her hair. She bit her lip and laid on her back on the satin sofa, her legs open so he could see her. All of her. His mouth watered. Human thoughts he hadn’t had in years burned up his spine and settled in his brain like a rush of adrenaline. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the mirror as Hermione slid her hands down her own body, tracing her fingers across her breasts, the delicate flesh of her stomach, her hips, her thighs…
“Yes,” the prince murmured to himself as her hand disappeared between her legs. He saw her lips part in a sigh as she arched her back against her own fingers. His predatory eyes darted from her face to her thighs then back again. He was on fire. Burning. I haven’t… felt lust in… years… Saliva pooled on his tongue and he swallowed it. He ached to taste her, to feel her. Then, just as he was thinking he could take no more, Hermione tortured him further. She pulled her hand away and shifted her wrist to show him the glistening slick that coated her fingers. The prince felt chills race up his spine and it made his scales shift as he shivered.
“You won’t let me see you. Or touch you…” Hermione’s voice was shaky, gentle, nearly desperate. She began to work on herself again and she gasped from the pleasure of her own fingers. “But I want you to see me. All of me.”
The prince shot to his feet and began to pace the length of the back of his room. “I want you so badly…” he murmured, not daring to pry his eyes away from the mirror. She was shaking now, greedily rolling her hips against her hand as chill bumps coated her body. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted as desperate noises climbed from her throat and echoed in his ears.
“Y-yes, yes, yes… My prince, are you watching?...”
“Yes!” he groaned as he leaned his head against the door and stared down into the mirror. His mind slipped away for only a moment but it was enough. Him, a young man. An older teenager. A silencing spell over his bed at Hogwarts. He was digging his fingernails into a girl’s hips. She had dark hair and cold eyes. She was screaming his name but he couldn’t make out what it was. In his mind then, all he was thinking of was an untamed mane of dark curls, freckles across her nose, chocolaty eyes staring down at him. Then he heard that word again. That terrible word. That horrible word in his own voice. Mudblood. The prince gasped and blinked. Hermione was naked on the sofa in the library. Sweat was beading her upper lip and she was whimpering soft, sinful things as she rolled her hips against her fingers. She was desperately close. He could nearly taste it. “Yes, Hermione,” he whispered in a tight voice. “Yes, love… Just like that…”
“My prince, yes. Yes… I’m… I’m… I’m…” She slapped her other hand over her mouth. She screamed into her palm and the sound blistered the prince’s ears with desire. He saw her hand drop lower as her hips pushed shamelessly and he knew she was inside. Envy scorched him when he realized just how badly he longed to be her fingers. He didn’t dare blink, barely allowing himself to breathe, as Hermione rode out her climax alone in the library under the warm gold haze of the candlelight. Several heartbeats later, her body relaxed. She lowered back down onto the couch and shivered. She pulled the hand that was between her legs and removed the one covering her mouth. Then Hermione rolled over on her stomach and the prince’s gaze hungrily drank in every inch of her body. Her long legs, her thighs, her shapely rump, the dimples on her lower back, the slope of her shoulders, her wild hair, her arms… Her arm. His eyes snagged on the scar.
“Thank you.” Hermione’s soft voice drew his attention. His gaze snapped to her face. Her flushed cheeks. Her dewy eyes. The moisture along her brow line and upper lip. She tilted her head at nothing and she smiled. “Goodnight, my prince. I’ll see you in the morning.” She blew him a kiss and the serpent pressed the mirror tightly to his chest. He crumpled to the floor in a miserable heap of writhing longing. He laid the enchanted object aside then rolled over on his back. He stared up at the tattered ceiling and, for just a moment, thought about relieving himself. But… but… The scales along the prince’s brow line furrowed in annoyance. I’m not… human anymore. No part of me is. I can’t… I can’t do it… He covered his face with his hands and groaned into his palms in defeat.
“Goodnight, Hermione,” he whispered with a miserable growl in his voice. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
That night, the prince had restless dreams. He fell into memories from a different life when he was someone else. Something else. A time in Hogwarts where he was in a room full of people including- he felt truly disgusted to see her standing so close to them- that same boy with messy dark hair and the ginger with the long nose. Hermione whispered something to the dark-haired boy and he nodded to her slightly. The prince’s keen eyes locked onto a cauldron that was in the middle of the room as a grossly round-bellied professor talked to them about the importance of brewing Amortentia properly.
The prince didn’t remember his dream come morning. Only that he woke with the smell of crisp parchment, sweet perfume, and the faintest traces of pear tarts lingering in his nostrils.
Chapter 14: The Horrors of Being Draco Malfoy
Summary:
{Hermione and the Prince}
Miss Granger continues work in the West Wing that causes a revelation for The Prince. For less than a full night, he remembers who he is... and it's too much to handle.
Notes:
Hello starlets.
I... I was in a destructive mood when I wrote this chapter. lol. Uhm. They'll probably be a bit more to come. My apologies.
Anywayyy. I hope y'all are having a wonderful week. Drink some water for me and I'll catch ya on Friday. <3
Chapter Text
{Thursday, May 23rd, 2002}
The prince convinced himself he’d dreamed of the mirror incident with Hermione. The following morning, they had breakfast together and she seemed chipper, but not awkward. The days rolled on and he kept the thoughts of it to himself. He tried to avoid staring at her, but it was so hard when he kept imagining the curves of her body and the softness of flesh her gowns hid from his eyes. Hermione kept on with him, bantering as usual and filled with energy as they began the process of cleaning out the West Wing.
Plumette and her sister feather dusters worked themselves silly in the decaying spaces and she’d put so much effort in she sprained her right wing. Lumiere, of course, lamented about his darling’s injury and spent an entire afternoon singing to her with the duster across his lap as she rested. With Plumette temporarily out of commission (and also Lumiere, of course as he took time off to baby her), the rest of the staff worked double speed to achieve Hermione’s goal of getting the West Wing cleared out for remodel by the start of June. She’d even recruited the Maestro and he played gentle tunes for them while toting off dozens of moldy boxes and broken items.
Hermione swept up the last of the shattered glass from the corridor and dumped it into a wastebin that Ella was holding. She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead and glanced over at the end table where Lumiere was massaging Plumette’s strained feathers.
“Well, I’m no cleaning expert like you are, my lady. But what do you think so far?”
“It looks wonderful, Hermione,” the duster replied warmly as the witch placed her hands on her hips and spun around.
“So bloody dark in here!” Hermione groaned as she stormed over to one of the windows and grabbed one of the heavy drapes in her hands. She gave it a tug and dust flew out of everywhere- making her sneeze. “Oh, I can’t believe I forgot about the curtains!...” She reached to her bun and pulled out her wand. She flicked it at the forgotten fabric. “Scourgify!” she wheezed and the drapes were instantly cleaned. Hermione sneezed again, with so much force this time that it knocked her back a couple of feet… directly into the chest of something smooth, hard, and warm. She whipped around and beamed from ear to ear up at the prince. “Hi! Have you been basking? You’re quite toasty.”
“Yes, I have,” he replied with a small smile. Ever since they visited his quarters and Hermione watched him take a chill, she’d been insistent on the fact that he needed time to bask each day in a sunny spot in the castle. Of course, he regularly chose the library, as it smelled the most like Hermione and was warm from the enchanted candles and fresh sunlight. Even though she’s quite pesky about the basking regimen… I will admit I feel better than I have in years. He glanced up at the oddly bright corridor and tilted his head. “It’s coming along great. How many rooms have you worked on while I was sunning myself?”
“I got what I believe was your parents’ room all cleaned out. Come see.” Hermione snatched the serpent by his wrist and dragged him into a room across the hall. The doorframe was etched with detailed carvings of snakes, ancient runes, and a few symbols Hermione had yet to decode. She opened the door and stepped back, gesturing for the prince to enter. He ducked into the grand opening and stood in silent awe.
The destroyed interior was gone. The glass swept away, the wallpaper repaired. It looked, in a way, as if it were waiting any moment for a man and his wife to come tumbling inside onto the onyx sheets across the bed. The prince walked over to a nightstand on the side of the four-poster that was facing him and touched a wand that was lying on the dark oak surface. He picked it up in his hands and brushed his finger across it. A memory sparked in the back of his mind. Of his own hand holding that wand, pointing it at that dark-haired boy he always saw with Hermione in his flashbacks. He was saying something to him but couldn’t make out the words.
“My prince?” Hermione’s soft voice drew him out of his thoughts. He looked over his shoulder at her as she approached. “What is it?...”
“This is my mother’s wand,” he told her as he twirled the stick of elm in his hand. “I can almost feel her in it.” He pressed the handle to his lips and closed his eyes. He saw her then. Beautiful and fierce with blonde hair and blue eyes. She had sharp features and high cheek bones with skin as pale as moonlight. She was smiling as she was twirled around the ball room in the arms of a man with pulled back, nearly silver hair. She laughed as he dipped her and then her eyes turned warmly toward him as she extended a hand. {“Come dance with me, Draco!”} Draco.
The prince’s world began to spin. He lifted a hand and grabbed the wooden beam of the bed’s canopy for support. His mother’s wand fell from his fingers and rolled onto the satin sheets. Hermione placed her hand on his shoulder in concern and he was aware that she was speaking to him, but he couldn’t make out the words. He was falling, tumbling, freewheeling into an abyss of memories. And that’s what he realized they were now. Memories.
Him. A boy of only eleven, standing in a crowded hallway with countless other students. Two familiar friends were at his back and two strangers stood in front of him. He extended his hand to the dark-haired boy with glasses who was always at Hermione’s side. {“The name’s Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”} But… Harry Potter didn’t shake his hand.
Him. A boy of twelve. Mocking the redheaded Weasleys inside the bookstore. His father’s hand on the back of his neck. {“Come, Draco. Let’s go.”}
Him. A boy of thirteen. Storming up to a hippogriff that looked hauntingly familiar. He disrespected the creature and it reared on its hind legs and sliced his arm. Then he was resting against the chest of a giant. The prince’s heart nearly stopped. Is that… Hermione’s father?!... Hermione’s open palm across his face.
Him. A boy of fourteen. Harry’s name was pulled from the Goblet of Fire. Draco was jealous and angry. There was ball. Hermione danced with a stranger from Durmstrang. He stormed into a room in his home- this room- and began lamenting to his parents about Saint Potter and how he could do no wrong. {“Why am I never given a chance? I just need one shot to prove myself! Just one!”} Then... The Dark Lord is back. Lucius Malfoy has been a loyal servant. Patiently waiting. He opened up their home…
“My prince…” Hermione was trembling as the serpent’s eyes glazed. She took a step back and glanced over her shoulder. “M-Mrs. Potts! Something’s wrong with the prince!”
Him. A boy of fifteen. A fat, toad-faced woman in pink clothing. He was her favorite, her pet. Finally someone sees me… finally… Something was wrong. Something’s happened at the Ministry. Fudge saw the Dark Lord with his own eyes and now there was no denying it. He had returned. Narcissa Malfoy lay crying in the very bed before him. Draco was holding her. {“They took him. They locked him up in Azkaban. Potter’s fault, it’s all Potter’s fault!...”}
Him. A boy of sixteen…
The prince collapsed onto the sheets. His eyes rolled back into his head and he shook violently. Hermione, Mrs. Potts, and nearly the entire staff raced over to him. The witch pushed him onto his side as he gasped for air. “I’m here!” she screamed to him as the enchanted creatures bolted in all directions for towels, water, medicine, anything! “I’m here, my prince, I’m here!”
Him. A boy of sixteen. He’d do anything to protect his family- his mother, his father, his name. Anything. Anything! The Dark Mark burned against his flesh. He knew something was off inside the compartment. Now he’d hexed Harry Potter and the Gryffindor was paralyzed at his feet. Hatred unlike anything Draco had ever known seared through him as he cracked his heel across Harry’s face. {“That’s for my father!”} The scene shifted. A boy of sixteen stood across from the greatest wizard who’d ever lived. His wand in his hand. He was shaking. Do it, Draco. Do it. Do it now! He can’t. I can’t.
He failed.
Severus Snape casted the Killing Curse instead. Dumbledore fell and fell and fell…
“N-No…” The serpent bucked wildly in Hermione’s grasp. She cradled his head on her lap as tears streamed down her face. She took a wet, warm cloth from Mrs. Potts and placed it across his forehead. He groaned and reached up a hand. Claws dug into her wrist and she winced at the pain but didn’t try to pull away. She let him hold her.
“I’m here,” she promised as she rocked him against her. “I’m right here.”
Him. A boy of seventeen. He was safe. Father is safe. Mother is safe. He was going to end it once and for all. He stood across from Harry Potter with his mother’s wand in his hand. He could hear what he was saying now. {“It doesn’t quite understand me…”} Then there was fire. So much fire. Too much fire. He should have let him die, but he didn’t. Harry saved him. The scene shifted. Potter was dead. The Dark Lord reigned. No, he’s alive! He’s alive! The war was won. Draco and his parents went home. But something’s wrong.
There was a knock on the door.
His aunt Bella?… No, she’s dead…
A rose, a curse…
The prince gasped and bolted out of Hermione’s grasp. She yelped as his claws raked across her wrist. He scrambled off the bed just in time to empty the contents of his stomach onto the floor. Hermione was on him in an instant, rubbing his shoulders and whispering small comforts to him as he panted desperately for air. Mrs. Potts, Lumiere, Cogsworth, and Plumette watched from a distance with worried expressions on their faces. He couldn’t look at them. It’s my fault they’re like this. It’s all my fault…
“Are you alright?” Hermione asked with a tremble in her voice. “You were having some type of fit. I was s-so scared…”
“You have every right to be afraid of me,” he murmured. “The things I’ve done… things I didn’t do…”
“What? Come, you’re not well. We’ll get you someplace warm and I’ll make you some tea…”
“Hermione Granger.”
The world stalled. Hermione’s chocolate-hued eyes widened. She sat back on the bed and pulled her hands into her lap. “W-What… Why did you call me that?”
“Because it’s your name. Your real name. Not Hermione Hagrid. Rubeus isn’t your father.”
Hermione’s head started throbbing. She pressed her wrists to her temples. “What is this?”
“You shouldn’t be here. Not with me. I’m a monster. I…” The serpent cupped his face in his hands. “Even before I was this.”
“My prince…”
“Draco Malfoy,” he said through his fingers and Hermione’s vision swam. “M-My name. Is Draco Malfoy.”
“Draco…” Hermione’s head was splitting. She saw all of the flashes like a movie in her mind. A handsome boy with white hair and eyes so gray they almost looked silver. She shook her head. “No, that’s… that’s not real.”
“The Battle of Hogwarts. 1998.” He didn’t look at her. “Harry Potter and the righteous forces of the Wizarding World defeated Lord Voldemort- mortally known as Tom Riddle- in the Great Hall of the school. You, Hermione Granger, are one third of what our society calls The Golden Trio. You, Harry Potter, and Ronald Weasley. You love him…”
“Stop.”
“You’re with him. In the real world- not here. He’s tasted your lips.”
Hermione’s mind raced. The kiss. Through fear and salt. She saw him clearly now as she blinked the haze of her thoughts away. Red hair, a freckled face, blue eyes, and… spearmint toothpaste. She covered her mouth with her hands. “D-Draco…”
“You hate me.”
“I don’t.”
“I was cruel to you.”
“You’re not!”
“I called you a mudblood!” he screamed and the castle shook from the force. Hermione bolted off the bed as a crack snaked its way across the ceiling and sent down particles of debris raining upon them. The staff was silent. Hermione stood in front of them, tears rolling down her face as she took a shaky step backward. The serpent watched her with a painful expression on his face. “You need to leave this place, Hermione. You need to go back to Hagrid, back to the village, try to set this right before we’re trapped this way forever. Find Harry, find Ron… The three of you can do anything together. You've saved the world once; you can do it again...”
“Harry…” she began slowly. “And Ron… are not… what you think they are. Not here.”
“Make them see. You’re the brightest witch of your age. They’ll listen to you.”
She shook her head. “I want to stay here with you…”
“Didn’t you hear me?!” he snarled, but Hermione wasn’t afraid. She knew his anger was coming from a place of hurt. She set her jaw and lifted her head. “This isn’t real. I’m not a prince, I’m just a spoiled brat. You’re the real hero, Hermione. Please! Go find them and set things right. I know you can do it.”
“In that world, what are we?” she asked him, her mind foggy and head aching. He didn't answer her at first, just pierced her soul with those blistering silver eyes. Hermione felt like her world was falling apart as she swallowed down the lump in her throat and begged herself to speak. “What are we, Draco? Tell me."
He looked away from her. “Nothing.”
“Then that’s not the world I want. I want this one.”
“You’re just saying that because you don’t remember.” The prince’s voice was deadly. He slithered off the silken sheets and stalked up to her. Low anger and agony simmered in his silver eyes as he looked down at her. “You don’t remember everything I’ve done.”
“Tell me then,” she demanded, tears stubbornly welling in her eyes as she crossed her arms. “We’ll see if I feel the same afterwards.”
“I was supposed to kill Albus Dumbledore.”
“I don’t know who that is.”
“He was the greatest wizard who ever lived. The former headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I was given a direct order by the Dark Lord- Voldemort- to murder him with the Killing Curse.”
“But you didn’t?” she inquired and he set his jaw.
“I couldn’t. I was a coward.”
“You chose not to kill someone. That doesn’t make you a coward, it makes you good…”
“I took the Dark Mark when I was just a child,” he continued, his voice deadly calm. “I knew what it meant. What it made me.”
“I don’t know what that means…”
“I’m racist. I believe in blood supremacy. Pureblood or no blood.”
“You believe that now, or you believed that then?”
“Then and now is the same, Hermione!” he screamed and his hot breath scorched her face. “It’s all the same, don’t you see that?!”
“Do you think that I’m a mudblood?” she asked him calmly and the snake recoiled. This time, Hermione pierced him with her gaze. "Is that what you see me as?"
“What?”
“Dirty blood. Is that what you think I am?” she pressed firmly. “Am I filthy, Draco? Am I rotten? Am I disgusting and vile and wretched? Am I weak?”
“Hermione, stop saying that…”
She shoved her arm in his face and the scar burned pink in his vision. “Is this what I am?”
“No!”
“Then this-” She gestured at him. “Is not what you are!”
“But it is!” he hissed as he slammed his fist against the wall beside her. Hermione took a step back with the waitstaff until they were all tightly pressed against the dark green paneling. She furrowed her eyebrows as her breathing deepened. I’m not afraid, I’m not…
Silence swirled between them as Hermione swallowed down her anxiety. She refused to look away from his predatory silver eyes. “You don’t have to be what they made you, Draco. You don’t have to be what you were. You can be something new.”
His jaw flexed. “You don’t know anything about me, Granger.”
“I could learn.”
“Why would you want to?” he hissed. “Go back to Weasley.”
“And if I don’t want to?” she challenged. “What if I like where I’m at?”
“Being held captive in a castle with nobody but enchanted flatware and a crazed snake man to talk to? Ronald Weasley seems your safer bet.”
“I’m a Gryffindor. The safe way is hardly the route I choose to go,” she replied. “Stop pushing me away.”
“Stop trying to break down my walls,” he snapped. “Who says that I want you here?”
Hermione flinched. For the first time- he'd managed to say something that hurt her. The serpent’s gaze never wavered, but inside he felt something shatter at the pained look that spread across her face. “Do you want me to leave, Draco Malfoy?” She asked him after a few moments of drumming silence. For several heartbeats, an intense, nearly blistering quiet spread between them. The welling tears in her eyes made her vision blurry and threatened to fall from her lashes. Still, she refused to move or look away. Her voice shook as the tears fell. “Do you want me to leave, my prince?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll stay.”
Hermione thawed. She inhaled deeply then took a step forward. She held his gaze steadily and licked her trembling lips. “Midnight tonight. Ask to see me.” And then she took off from the room and was gone.
…
The prince kept his gaze on Cogsworth. He hadn’t spoken to anyone since the meltdown in his parents’ room. The waitstaff, who still didn’t remember anything about the past, kept doting on him. He’d emptied Mrs. Potts three times and was on his second round of chamomile when the enchanted clock finally turned to him and dipped his head. “It’s midnight, master.”
The serpent pushed up from his chair in front of the hearth. He strode through the castle silently and into his room. He saw Bear and Bunny glance up at him from a chessboard they had between them and he motioned at them with a hand. “Away. I need to be alone.”
“Prickly,” murmured the teddy bear as he and the stuffed rabbit headed for the door. “And here we thought Hermione was making you more chipper.”
“Close the door on your way out,” the prince called over his shoulder and heard the rabbit curse at him lowly under her breath. The door clicked shut and the serpent closed his eyes. He exhaled all the air in his lungs then walked over to the table that held the enchanted mirror. He picked it up and glanced down at the reflective surface with a bit of hesitation. He saw Hermione in his mind in that stunning periwinkle dress, dancing with a stranger. His pupils narrowed with hatred at whoever she was with. “Show her to me.” The surface rippled and she was before his eyes. But she wasn’t in the library. His heart nearly stopped. She was standing on the staircase to his quarters, wearing a black, fluffy robe and caught in a ray of moonlight.
“Are you there, Draco?” she asked in a soft voice and it echoed around the empty corridor. Hearing his name come from her lips made him ache in a way he'd never known before. “I met Bunny and Bear. They’re delightful- albeit a bit abrasive. But I take it they were Slytherins…” She started walking again and his breath caught in his throat. He realized Hermione was right outside his door. He turned his head and neared the entrance to his room. He placed his palm upon it and could nearly feel her on the other side. “Are you there?” she asked him and his heart hammered in his chest.
“Yes.”
“Are you watching?”
He glanced down at the mirror in his free hand. Hermione was leaning against the door. She closed her eyes and ran her fingertips down her neck, grabbed the sides of the robe, pulled it open, and let it drop to the floor. The prince sucked in a hard breath when her body was bare before him. Her chocolate hair fell all around her shoulders in loose, frizzy waves. She leaned her head back against the door and smiled softly.
“Tell me what you want me to do.”
His head began to spin. “What?...”
“Tell me what you want me to do,” she repeated. Her hands traveled all across her body and brought chills to her porcelain skin. “Where should I touch myself?...”
“H-Hermione…”
“Draco.”
His breathing deepened. “Don’t call me that.”
“It’s your name.”
“I don’t want to be him right now.”
“Alright,” she conceded softly. “My prince. Where should I touch myself?”
His heart pounded. “Like you did last time… Your breasts, your stomach… Everywhere.”
“Okay.” Hermione smiled. She dragged her fingertips across her chest and the prince clutched the mirror with a ferocious force as she took her breasts in her hands and gripped them tightly. Then she rolled her hands down her body, tracing the curve of her stomach, her hips, her thighs.
“Perfect,” the prince forced out as she tucked her left hand between her legs. “You’re beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she whispered breathlessly as she pushed her shoulders back against the door. “Inside?” The word sent chills up the prince’s spine. He slid down the door until he collapsed on the floor. He heard her chuckle at him and saw her roll her eyes in the mirror as she waited for his answer. He nodded eagerly then realized she couldn’t see him.
“Y-Yes, Hermione. I want you inside.”
“Thank you,” she repeated and he watched her shift her legs. Her hand pulled down and… She moaned shamelessly, her eyebrows pitching in delight as she pressed her body against the door again. The prince stared at the mirror, awestruck, as she scraped the wood with her free hand and tilted her head back. “Is this what you wanted?” she asked and he swallowed down the saliva that pooled on his tongue.
“Y-Yes. Can you show me… like you did last time?”
She smiled and nodded. Hermione bit her lip as she tilted her wrist and the prince saw perfect slick shining on her fingers. His body throbbed with desire unlike anything he’d ever known. He ached inside until he was nearly on fire. Five inches away. She’s five inches away… He forced himself into a sitting position and leaned against the door. He watched the mirror with deadly focus as she pushed inside herself again and let out a soft sigh. Hermione Granger naked within his grasp. Hermione Granger knew what he was and was still naked within his grasp. Hermione Granger…
Screaming.
On the drawing room floor.
Screaming.
The prince put the mirror down. He stared blankly ahead at the enchanted rose in the glass. “Stop,” he said in a voice loud enough he knew she heard him. He glanced down at the mirror and she was very still. He stood up quickly and kicked the enchanted item away with his foot. “Come here.”
A heartbeat went by. Then the doorknob twisted. Hermione stepped inside his room and closed the door behind her. She stood less than a full arm’s length apart from him. Her face was red. Her hair a mess around her shoulders like ribbons of frayed chocolate. Her eyes were glossy. She was trembling.
“It’s cold in here,” she said simply and he nodded, his predatory gaze raking over her body. Her skin was covered in gooseflesh. Her nipples were hard. He found her eyes. “You shouldn’t be in here, my prince.”
“I’m a horrible person, Hermione Granger,” he told her and she exhaled all the air in her lungs in exasperation.
“Not this again!”
“I am.”
“You’re not.”
“I am.”
“You’re not.”
He looked away from her. She took a step toward him.
“I don’t just stand naked in front of horrible people. I don’t touch myself thinking about horrible people. I don’t risk my life for horrible people. I don’t choose to stay under the same roof as horrible people.”
He met her gaze again. “Do you trust me, Hermione?” he asked as he reached out and gently took one of her curls in-between his scaly fingers. She held his eyes evenly and stepped right up to him until they were only a breath away. His skin crawled from the desire to touch her. To hold her. To taste her. She held his gaze.
“I do.”
Her hands cupped his face. He let her. She leaned up as if to kiss him. The serpent’s eyes flashed with regret. His tail whipped around and he took something from the coil of its end. Before Hermione even had time to register what was happening, he had his wand in his hand and pressed it against the back of her skull.
“You shouldn’t,” he said simply. “Like I told you. I’m a horrible person. Obliviate.”
…
He took her to bed and tucked her in. The prince called a meeting and spoke to his entire staff. They had a new set of orders. No mentioning the fit he’d had in his parents’ room. No mentioning the fight or the fallout or anything to do with the past. Hermione wasn’t to know.
He was prepared to suffer. To endure the burden of the truth alone. To hurt and ache and know that he and her could only work inside this cursed castle. But when the prince laid down that night, another petal fell. The entire manor shook, cracked, and groaned. And come the morning, even more of the humanity inside the prince was gone…
As were his memories of being Draco Malfoy.
Chapter 15: A Different Kind of Beast
Summary:
{Remus, Ron, and Harry}
Hagrid and Lupin prepare to rally troops to get Hermione back.
Ron begins to spiral in his own delusions and hits an all-time low.
Harry again is haunted by the actions of his best friend and starts to wonder if, perhaps, the real monster is inside the village... not the forest.
Notes:
Man oh man. Let me tell you how PUMPED I've been for this chapter. More than halfway done now! Eeek!
Anyway starlets, I hope you're ready for another obnoxious song chapter because it's coming up next. (Buy one, get one free, actually.)
Drink some water for me and enjoy your journey to the stars! <3
OH- AND PLEASE YAP WITH ME! I *crave* interaction.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
{Monday, May 27th, 2002}
“It’s a shit plan.”
“I know it’s a shit plan but it’s all we have!”
Hagrid drained his mug of ale and nodded. Sitting across from him inside his hut was Remus Lupin. The lycan had dark circles under his eyes and looked completely exhausted. And rightfully so considering he and Hagrid had spent nearly all their time the last few weeks trying to find anyway to safely make it through the Forbidden Forest. Without Buckbeak, and Hagrid’s umbrella finicky with magic, there seemed little to no hope. Until…
The day before, Remus found a book on Acromantula and it finally gave them a flicker of hope. They hunted as pack creatures and would typically focus on groups of smaller animals. So theory was that they needed a group large and loud enough to make the spiders nervous so they could make it to the castle unapproached. Now it was time to begin.
Remus had taken one side of Hogsmeade and Hagrid took the other. They talked about their plans to anyone who would listen. Most people laughed them away. Defeated and exhausted, they ended up at The Three Broomsticks with a tab open for Butterbeer and ale. Remus looked at the paper he’d drafted for recruitment and sighed at only two names on the sheet- his own and Hagrid’s. The half giant was sobbing as he took down another giant mug of a dark ale that smelled like hazelnut and tar.
“Why the long faces, gentlemen?” came the unwelcome voice and they both exhaled all the air in their lungs. Remus glanced over his shoulder to see the red hair and freckled face of Ronald Weasley.
“Piss off, Ron,” Hagrid grumbled as Madam Rosmerta handed him another mug. He drank down half of it before she even had time to walk away. “Not in the mood for ya right now.”
“What’s this?” before Remus had time to stop him, Ron yanked the paper out from under his hands and was reading what was printed at the top. “The Rescue Hermione Team…” He glanced over at the two men with a bit of wry laughter curling the ends of his lips. “Still on about the monster in the woods, are we?”
“Hermione was captured by him on the eighth,” Remus nearly growled as he yanked the paper back. “It’s now the 27th. Aren’t you curious at all as to why you haven’t seen Hermione in town a single time in over two weeks? Hmm? She usually comes into Hogsmeade every day, or every other day, and gets a new book from Phineus Nigellus. Don’t you find it odd that she hasn’t been around?”
Ron looked taken aback. For just a moment, a glimmer of doubt flashed in his blue eyes. He cleared his throat. “She’s just embarrassed because she rejected me… Hiding out at the hut, is all…”
Hagrid nearly choked on his ale. He guffawed so loud that it made Rosmerta jump from her place behind the bar. He shook his head in bewilderment. “My ‘Ermione embarrassed? Over you?! Oh, now that’s the best laugh I’ve had in days right there. Thank ya for that, Ronald.”
The Weasley boy didn’t look amused. He crossed his arms and glared at the two older men. “So. Let’s play into your delusions for a moment then, shall we? Say that Hermione did get taken by a mystery monster. Say she is trapped inside that forest somewhere in a castle none of us have ever seen. What is the Hermione Rescue Team going to do about it? Hm? Those woods are swarming with Acromantulas…”
“Acromantulas don’t like a lot of noise or large groups,” Remus told Ron without turning to face him. “If we could gather enough people with torches, wands, and weapons, we could make it through the forest and storm the castle to get Hermione back.”
“I see,” Ron murmured thoughtfully. He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m convincing. Sign me up and I’ll go try to recruit some others.”
“We’ve already asked damn near everyone in the village,” Hagrid hiccupped through his ale and his tears. “They all thing we’re loony.”
“Understandably so. You both sound mad,” Ron chuckled and they both shot him a nasty glance. “But, be that as it is… or isn’t. You know my feelings for Hermione. I’ll rally some of the people from the town.” He extended his hand toward Remus and the lycan glared at him untrustingly. “And then we can get her back.”
Remus glanced up at Hagrid and the half giant just nodded to him slightly. He placed the parchment in Ron’s hand and the younger man beamed at him. “Put your trust in me, gentlemen. I’ll make it right. You’ll see.” Then he turned on his heels and was gone. Remus felt an uneasy sensation prickle up his spine as he turned his head toward his friend.
“I don’t know why, Hagrid, but I feel like we’ve just made a horrible mistake…”
Hagrid swallowed down his ale and held his friend’s worried eyes. “Funny ya should say that, Remus… I was just thinkin’ the same thing.”
…
“So you see, the crazy old men think that this monster is real!” Ron doubled over in laughter as he lifted his beer mug. The entirety of the Hog’s Head was cackling with him- except for his brothers, father, and Harry Potter. Fred glanced at George and George glanced at Percy. Bill, who was sitting off by himself away from the other Weasleys and eating a large cut of steak, lifted his head.
“And what if they’re right, Ronald?” he challenged his younger brother around his mouthful of food. He swallowed the bite as Ron met his eyes. “What if she really is being held captive out there? Don’t you want to like, get married and spread your legs for her or something?” A bit of resistant laughter rippled across the bar and Fleur, Bill’s lovely wife, placed a hand on his shoulder in warning. Ron’s face reddened with rage as he pushed from his chair and stormed up to his oldest brother.
“Listen here, William.”
“No, you listen, Ronald!” Bill snapped as he jumped to his feet and stood a fair inch or so taller than Ron. “You arrogant little git. I know this entire town worships the ground you walk on, but I remember when you were born and helped change your shitty diapers. I’m not going to grovel at your feet. If you want to impress Hermione, demeaning her father and treating him like a madman is not the way to do it! Remus Lupin is also a favorite of Hermione’s, so if you think being cruel to him will earn you any grace from her- you’re wrong. Why don’t you take this rescue team seriously? Join. Spearhead it. I’ll help. Look, I’ll even sign up…”
“Bill, no!” Fleur gasped. “’Aven’t you had enough encounters with monsters for a lifetime?!”
“Fear not, darling. I’m a Gryffindor, after all. Bravery and the like.” Bill took Fleur’s hand in his own and kissed her knuckles as he swiped his thumb over her skin. “I’d never abandon you or our baby girl.” He turned back toward his brother and saw that Ron, though red in the face still, seemed like he didn’t have anything to say. Bill nodded and held his gaze. “Write my name down. Hell, write down our other brothers too.”
“What did we do?!” Fred and George said at the same time and Bill shot them a nasty look. Percy opened his mouth to protest but quickly thought better of it and pressed his lips tightly together again.
“Dad?” Bill asked Arthur and he nodded once then drank down the rest of his shot.
“Sign me up too, Ron. We’ll all go out together. As a family.”
“See? This is what real support looks like, little brother. Not that fake shit that Longbottom and Potter try to sell you.”
“Hey!” Neville and Harry protested at once. Bill just rolled his eyes at them.
“Anyway. Work with Hagrid and Remus. Figure out when all this is going down and the town will rally together to get Hermione back.”
“But… Bill,” Ron whispered in a low voice, making sure it was only heard by his eldest brother this time. Blue eyes converged with brown hues as Bill leaned in close to him to listen to whatever it was he was going to say. “What if it’s not true?”
“Then it isn’t,” Bill replied simply. “And you are proven no less a man for trying to help. Hm?” He patted Ron on the back then pulled Fleur by her hand. “Add it to my tab, Aberforth. I get my payout on Monday and I’ll clear my entire debt then.”
The owner nodded to them as they left and Ron found himself walking back over to the bar with a conflicting war in his mind. He noticed that Neville was passing around the sign-up sheet for the Hermione Rescue Team. He stared across the room and gazed at the dusty enchanted Hog’s Head that was stuck up on the wall above the beer tap. He tilted his head in thought as Neville placed the paper back at his side. Ron studied it and ran his tongue over his teeth. He knew the initial writing was done in Remus Lupin’s hand and the idea of that made his stomach sour. For some reason, stray insidious thoughts were creeping into his mind. Something most envious and vile and cruel. Neville placed his hand on Ron’s shoulder and he glanced over at him with hazy eyes.
“What is it?” he asked as Harry Potter came to his other side.
“You alright, mate?”
Ron nodded slowly as he bridged his fingers. “I have some unfinished business I need to handle. Meet me back at Hagrid’s hut tonight at seven so we can discuss the next move.” Then he pushed up from his stool, tossed some sickles onto the counter for Aberforth, and left the bar with incredible haste- leaving Harry and Neville to exchange looks of great confusion.
…
“So you understand my concern then,” Ron said lowly to a wiry, ancient looking man with gray hair and bushy eyebrows. He was patting the side of a dusty brown cat that was lounging lazily on his lap. The old man, Argus Filch, nodded in urgent understanding.
“Very much so. I’ll do this favor for you. And what will you do for me?”
Ron handed him a large coin purse filled with galleons. He raised his head as Filch weighed it in his palms.
“It’s agreed then. I’ll be there.”
“Brilliant,” the Weasley chuckled and they shook. “Absolutely brilliant.”
…
It was dusky outside when there came a rapid knocking on the door of Hagrid’s hut. The half giant rambled over to the entrance and had only just cracked it open when a blast of light hit him directly between the eyes. He stumbled backward and roared in pain. Remus, who was napping in Hagrid’s massive wingchair, bolted to his feet just as another spell caught the colossal man directly in the rib cage. A final blast brought him to his knees and then the attack was on Lupin. The lycan crashed to the floor before he even had time to grab his wand. He was unable to move besides the faint ability to flicker his eyes back and forth. He saw three pairs of boots enter the cabin and his pupils widened when he recognized Ron, Harry, and Neville.
“Really am sorry about this, fellas. I’d say it’s nothing personal but strictly speaking that isn’t exactly true…” Ron crouched down on his toes, balancing all his weight at the tips of his boots. He showed the sign-up sheet to Remus. “Y’know, I was trying to figure out why you were helping him- Hagrid. Why you’re so involved in all of this. Surely it isn’t just from undying loyalty to a friend. Werewolves don’t feel emotions that deeply. Everyone knows that.” Remus’ heart thundered from anger in his chest as Ron shook the paper at him. “It’s because you’re in love with her too, isn’t it?! I see how you look at her. Everyone does. You kiss her knuckles and smile at her. She spends hours at a time holed up in that shack with you. What do you two do when you’re all alone, huh?”
Remus wished he could display his shock. Me? In love with Hermione?! She’s young enough to be my daughter! And I’m… No. No! Remus knew what the effects of ‘Petrificus Totalus’ looked like. Felt like. But to be trapped in it right now? With this going on? It’s madness! He saw Hagrid groan and shift on the floor behind the three boys and desperately wanted to call out to him, but no words would come. The lycan shifted his gaze back to Ron and tried to get him to understand with just the movement of his eyes, but the Weasley just shook his head and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
“I see it now. It all makes so much sense. You’re just trying to help Hagrid find Hermione so you can prove yourself to him. So you can ask for her hand. So you can take her away from me. Well… That isn’t a choice I’m going to give you, Remus. And I know Hagrid will never grant me his blessing. So… I’m removing you both from the equation. It’s my best chance with her. Try to understand.”
Remus was screaming on the inside. He saw Ron, Neville, and Harry move as one and point their wands at Hagrid. They all muttered the same levitation spell and then the half giant was floating out of the house, outside to where Argus Filch was waiting with a double reinforced coach. Once Hagrid was inside and anchored down by magic chains, the trio came back for the paralyzed lycan. He was entirely helpless as he was moved from the cabin floor to the back of a splintered cart. Ron’s face was nearly sinister in the candlelight as he closed and locked the carriage door. Neville looked pale and anxious and Harry… I’ve never seen anyone look so guilty…
“Remember our deal, Filch!” Ron called as the asylum owner whipped the reins in his hands and the thestril that was pulling it took off into the night. Remus caught Hagrid’s terrified gaze and the half giant scooted as close to him as he could until their hands were touching. Tears formed in Remus’ eyes and he was powerless to wipe them away.
…
“This is a mistake! You can’t hide this from the townspeople! If he’ll do this to us, what will he do to others?!” Remus screamed, finally free of the paralyzing charm as he was thrown unceremoniously into a dirty, dark cell inside Filch’s Asylum. He slammed himself against the cell door and the steel beams echoed from the force. He slid down the wall and sobbed into his handcuffed palms. Hagrid was across the hall from him and was chained down so tightly he could hardly move. Remus coiled his hands around the bars and shook them.
“Hagrid! Are you okay?”
“Now we’ll never get ‘er back…” The half giant was sobbing, his face pressed against the cold stone floor. “Oh my poor ‘Ermione will be there forever…”
“We’ll figure this out. We will.”
“Have you been locked away because of the nargals too?”
Remus nearly jumped out of his skin. He glanced behind him and saw someone sitting in the far corner, but he could barely make her out in the dim flicker of candlelight and moon glimmer. She had long, nearly silver hair that was flowing around her dirty feet and it was so matted in places that he wondered if she’d ever been able to brush it. Then, her dreamy blue eyes lifted to his face and she seemed to brighten a bit in recognition.
“Oh! Professor Lupin!”
He blinked slowly at her. “Do I know you?...”
“It’s me! Luna Lovegood.”
“Luna Lovegood?...”
“Yes, silly. You taught me Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts.”
Remus stared at her like she’d grown an extra head. “I never taught at Hogwarts, Miss Lovegood…”
“Yes you did. In my third year.”
“No, I taught…” Remus’ head started to hurt behind his left eye. “… somewhere else…”
“Maybe,” she said in a faraway voice. “But you definitely taught at Hogwarts. I remember. You had a boggart in a closet and when you stepped in front of it, it transformed into a full moon. You’re the most afraid of full moons, you see, because you’re a werewolf.”
Remus grit his teeth when a flash of something sparked behind his eyelids. A classroom in Hogwarts. A grindylow in a tank. Harry Potter standing in front of a Dementor. What’s a Dementor?... He stepped in front of it and the shape changed into exactly what Luna said. Remus gasped for air and reeled away from her, as far back into the corner by the front of his cell as possible. Sweat beaded on his brow line as she shifted a little closer toward him.
“You don’t need to be afraid of me. I can’t hurt you- I’m all tied up, you see.”
“Why… Why did they tie you up?” he asked and Luna smiled a bit.
“Because I remember the way things were and nobody else does. It’s very strange really. Mr. Filch got quite angry at me when I tried to tell him all about it and he brought me here. I’ve been in this cell ever since. For a few years, I think.”
Remus shivered. “Where are your parents, Luna? Why didn’t they come looking for you?”
“Mum died a long time ago. When I was little,” she replied simply, her smile never wavering. “Dad’s probably still in the real world, I think. Or else I’d have seen or heard something of him by now. He would have come to rescue me. My dad’s a great man.”
Remus’ headache was nearly splitting now. He turned toward Hagrid but the half giant was still pressed into the floor, sobbing so hard that it was shaking the bars of his cell. When Remus turned to face Luna again, she had scooted halfway across the room but couldn’t get any closer to him because her chains were out of length. Her eyes were kind as she tilted her head at him.
“I heard you’re trying to save Hermione Granger, is that right?”
That name sent shockwaves of pain up Remus’ spine. He clenched his teeth and nodded. “Y-Yes. That’s right.”
“Splendid!” she beamed. “How are you going to do that? Was the plan to be locked up in here for something? Are we buying time?”
“N-No, Luna. This wasn’t part of the plan. There is no plan…” Remus felt pesky tears forming in his eyes. “I don’t know what we’re going to do now. Ron’s out there wreaking havoc. He’s the monster…”
“Oh, Ronald isn’t a monster. Not really. He’s a bit mean and says things he doesn’t mean sometimes, but that doesn’t make him cruel. I’ve seen worse. Bellatrix Lestrange was awful, for one. She tormented us for weeks down in a cellar once.”
Remus’ head was absolutely throbbing. He leaned his forehead into his palms and tried to apply pressure to stave the ache. “L-Luna…”
“Professor Lupin?” her voice was so kind and gentle that it made him look at her again. She smiled at him softly. “It’s going to be okay.” She sounded so sure and so honest that he very nearly believed her.
“And how do you know that, Luna Lovegood?” he asked in a trembling voice as he leaned his head back against the bars of his cell. “How can you be so sure?” Her smile widened and she nodded her head in a matter-of-fact kind of way.
“Wrackspurts told me so.”
Remus wasn’t sure why, but that made him laugh.
…
“Help! Someone help!” Neville Longbottom tore into The Hog’s Head. Sweat was beading down his face as the usual crowd turned to face him. Arthur Weasley jumped to his feet when Ron followed after him, chest heaving and blue eyes wide with fear. He limped forward and placed the torn sign-up sheet on the bar.
“Tried to stop him,” Ron choked out as his father rushed to his side. “T-They wouldn’t wait. Said we were wasting time…”
“What happened?” demanded Lavender Brown as she hurried over and began grasping for Ron’s sweaty hand. “What was it?”
“Lupin and Hagrid, they took off into the forest on their own,” Neville gasped as Harry entered the pub more slowly. He was sweating too and covered in mud, but looked far less put out than his two companions. Bill tried to catch his eye but he looked away. “We tried to stop them but the Acromantulas came out of everywhere… I don’t know if they made it out. We barely escaped with our lives.”
Aberforth looked nearly ill as Neville dragged over a chair for Ron to sit in. The Weasley collapsed upon the stool and leaned heavily into his father’s arms. The pub was deathly quiet. Then Aberforth reached over the bar and took the shredded parchment in his hands. He exhaled all the air in his lungs. “Assuming…” he swallowed hard. “Assuming they’re not coming back…”
“They’re not,” Ron whimpered. “There’s just no way…”
“We probably should stay vigilant of Hagrid’s hut just in case Hermione comes home.”
“I can stay there,” Arthur offered as he patted Ron’s shoulder comfortingly. “It’s the least I can do… considering we might have been family…”
Bill was trying desperately to get Harry to look at him, but he kept his green eyes locked on the ground. His stomach felt sour. His head was pounding. I can’t believe I just aided in the unwilling confinement of two innocent men… He lifted his head and cleared his throat.
“I-I’ll stay at the hut, Aberforth. Mr. Weasley should be with his son in these trying times. I’ll go.”
“Very good lad, Harry,” replied the barkeep. He folded the sign-up sheet and tucked it away inside his pocket. “We’ll leave lanterns on all around the town just in case Remus and Hagrid do make it back. Everyone, go to your homes. The bar is closing early tonight. Leave lights on for our lost…”
Harry, still very aware that Bill was watching him, turned on his heels before anyone else could speak to him and headed out of the bar. He stuck his hands in his pants pocket and ran his fingers across the smooth surface of his wand. He kept his head low the entire way out of the village, watching out of the corners of his eyes as enchanted lanterns lit all across the town. He was halfway back to the schoolgrounds when the Shrieking Shack caught his eye. He kept glancing at it until it left his sight and felt more guilt twisting down in his gut. Wrong. What we did was wrong. This isn’t the way to win Hermione’s heart. Surely Ron knows that. Surely…
Harry didn’t even realize he’d made it to Hagrid’s hut. He shivered despite it being warm outside and nearly June. He had just placed his hand on the doorknob when he became aware of a secondary presence. He turned on his heels, pulling his wand from his pocket as he did. Bill was ready for him with his own wand already drawn. He stared into the eldest Weasley’s burning amber eyes and set his jaw.
“Oh, Harry,” the scarred man said with a tone of agony in his voice. “What did you help him do?”
Harry blinked and lowered his wand. Then he turned, entered Hagrid’s hut, and shut the door behind him- sealing Bill Weasley away in the night.
Notes:
Making Neville, Ron, and Harry bad guys gives me the ultimate ick. ;_;
Poor sweet boys.
Chapter 16: The Staircase
Summary:
{Hermione and Draco}
All is forgotten in the aftermath of 'The Horrors of Being Draco Malfoy'. Time is running out, but hope isn't quite lost. Not yet...
All it takes it a dance.
Notes:
HELLO MY LOVES!
AHHH.
So, I might have to shake up my posting schedule a bit. Work is OBLITERATING me right now and I literally hardly have time to do anything- let alone write (which is what I'd rather be doing- TRUST ME. I think I need to drop to two days a week for now (;x;) and I'm going to shift it to Tuesdays and Thursdays. ONCE I get caught up, I'll shift back to my original schedule. I'M TOO CLOSE TO THE END TO SLOW DOWN NOW AND I'VE ALREADY STARTED DRAFTING A NEW FIC. MWAHAHAHAHA.
Anywhoo.
---
Enjoy this chapter, loves! Yap with me, drink some water, and enjoy your journey to the stars. <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
{Tuesday, May 28th, 2002}
Hermione’s head hurt so bad when she woke up the first time that morning, she begged the wardrobe for extra fabrics to block out the light from the sun shining through her window. By the time consciousness came to her the second time, the dull throbbing behind her left eye had lessened but still was annoyingly persistent. She forced herself out of bed with a groan as she stretched. Much to her warm amusement, she found that the Madam Garderobe was singing a light tune to the sound of piano music that was playing from downstairs. Hermione waved to the wardrobe as she slipped into a relaxed pair of pajamas and slid on her robe. She headed out of her room, down the corridor, and toward the staircase.
Once in the main living area, she saw the Maestro was staring adoringly up the stairs toward the sound of his beloved’s singing voice as he played his heart out to his distanced wife. Dancing atop Froufrou as the stool swayed to the music, Lumiere had Plumette held tight to him- all of his candles flickered off as not to burn her.
“Days in the sun- when my life has barely begun. Not until my whole life is done, will I ever leave you…” the candlestick sang softly to the sound of the music as he dipped the feather duster.
Hermione sat down in the prince’s wingchair, her eyes soft as the staff continued with their song. She heard the wardrobe’s beautiful voice drift down from her bedroom. “Will I tremble again, to my dear one's gorgeous refrain?...”
“Will you now forever remain, out of reach of my arms?” echoed back the Maestro with enough agony in his voice to break Hermione’s heart.
“All those days in the sun,” sang Mrs. Potts lightly as she came wheeling over on her trolly with fresh, piping hot tea in Chip for Hermione. She took the broken cup with a smile and winked at her before pressing the safe side of the rim to her lips. “What I'd give to relive just one. Undo what's done, and bring back the light…” The teakettle sighed and lowered her eyes a bit before offering Hermione a very obviously faked smile. “Good morning, dear. Did you rest well last night?”
“Hard,” Hermione replied as she wiped the tea from her lips. “I worked myself so much yesterday that I nearly forgot all the progress I made. I remember getting the prince’s parents’ room all tidied up, but not much after that, I’m afraid…” She tilted her head. “Are you alright, Mrs. Potts? The staff seems a bit melancholy today.”
“Just worried, is all,” replied Chipette with less energy than she usually held. “Another petal fell while the prince was sleeping last night. I can hardly remember what it was like to be human now.”
“I can’t remember anything at all,” sighed Cogsworth from where he was safely seated upon the mantel place away from Froufrou. “I couldn’t tell you what I looked like, or a single thing about who I was before. All I can hear is the tinkering of the coils inside my woodwork. I fear it won’t be much longer now before the spell has taken its toll… and we are trapped like this. Forever.”
“No!” Hermione bolted to her feet and held Chip tightly against her chest. “No, surely there is something we can do…”
Nobody would meet her gaze. Lumiere stopped twirling Plumette and looked at her with those kind copper eyes. “It isn’t that simple, my lady… the curse is held by magical promises and binding constructs too deep to undo…”
“There must be something,” Hermione argued with a shake of her head as she sipped from her teacup again. “I won’t give up. Where is the prince? I’d like to speak to him.”
“Holed up in his room since this morning,” sighed the piano as he winced when one of his keys played incorrectly. “He saw another petal fell and was dismayed. We tried to feed him, and he refused to touch his breakfast.”
“That simply won’t do. He’ll need his strength if we are to find a solution.” Hermione placed Chip back down on the trolly next to her mother then shuffled off toward the kitchen. The staff watched, wide-eyed and entirely bewildered, as she came marching out a few moments later with a multitude of different food items shoved in the pockets of her robe. She waved her hand at Ella and Minnie when they tried to follow her. She made her way up the stairs and ventured into the West Wing. Before she even drew her fist on the door, she heard the prince speaking inside.
“It’s useless! It’ll never happen. There are only two petals left.”
“We mustn’t lose faith now, Master,” she heard Bunny saying in a pleading voice. “I’m all but stuffing now inside… Soon we’ll be nothing more than what we are…”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I failed you. It won’t work. It can’t. She’ll never love me.”
The word lingered in the air like frost upon the ground. Hermione’s fist was still an inch away from the wooden frame. Then, slowly, she rasped upon the door. “My prince? I brought you something to eat…”
She heard some shuffling from the other side followed by a long stretch of silence. Hermione huffed. “I know you’re upset about the rose, but you still need food. Even as a serpent, you require nourishment.”
“Snakes only need to eat every ten days or so. I’ll be fine.”
Hermione felt low burning annoyance starting to prickle up her spine. She rasped her knuckles on the door again. “But you’re not a snake. Snakes don’t have conversations with the local bookworm. I’m coming in.” Without waiting for a response, she took the doorknob in her hand, turned it, and entered. The prince was standing on the balcony with his hands behind his back. Bunny and Bear were on either side of him, watching their master with worried button eyes as he stared out across the winter-kissed grounds of their home. Hermione approached him slowly and placed a gentle hand on his back. “My prince…”
“Did you sleep well?” he asked in a tired, defeated voice as he glanced down at her. There was something unsettling in his silver eyes that made Hermione’s stomach twist into knots. She nodded slightly and extended a green apple to him. He took it hesitantly then popped the entire thing in his mouth and swallowed it whole. She blinked as color filled her face when she realized she’d been watching the muscles of his throat as the fruit went down.
“I did. Hard. I barely remember yesterday at all…”
“You’ve done a lot of work recently. I’m sure you’re exhausted. Perhaps today we could take a break?...”
“There isn’t hardly time for that, is there?” Hermione asked with a desperate look in her eyes as she handed him another apple from her pocket. He took it slowly, as if debating rather or not it was a gift or a trick. “I’ve been thinking we could comb through the library. These grounds are ancient and the knowledge held inside the castle is vast. I think we could probably find something here that might help us slow the curse if we can’t stop it.”
“Hermione…”
“I’m not giving up!” she snapped as she glanced over at the glass cloche that held the rose. When she saw there really were only two petals clinging to it weakly, her breathing became quite labored. She glanced at the serpent again and saw him staring down at the apple in his scaly hands. “And I’m not letting you give up either. Meet me in the library in twenty minutes. Be ready to put in some work.” She pulled the rest of the food she’d gathered out of her robe and laid it on the table nearest her beside the enchanted mirror. She dipped her head to Bunny and Bear, turned on her heels, and was gone.
…
“And what’s that pile over there?” Hermione asked two hours later as she sorted through untidy scrolls from the family’s historical archives. The prince, who was sitting in a mess of papers, lifted his head and rooted around through a throng of books she’d handed him what felt like eons earlier.
“These are… records of ancient spells and curses.”
“Have we looked through those already?”
“Some of them. Hermione, this is hopeless. There’s thirty books in this one pile.”
“Just one more hour,” she pleaded. “Please, my prince. Just until dinner is done.”
He sighed, smiled slightly, and grabbed one of the books from the top. “Yes, ma’am. Whatever her ladyship commands…”
From the hallway, the waitstaff had gathered to watch the two work. Lumiere was nearly inferno bright he was so excited as he turned to Plumette and twirled her carefully in his arms. “Do you see what I see, my love? They’re bonding. They truly are…”
“Haven’t they been?” Chipette asked through what sounded like gritted teeth as Cogsworth peered into the room just as Hermione laughed about something the prince said and gave his shoulder a rough smack with a roll of papers.
“Yes, but they’re… they’re…”
“They’re flirting,” Mrs. Potts confirmed when the prince carefully whipped Hermione’s hip with the end of his tail. “There may be hope after all…”
Hermione rubbed the spot on her flank as she shot him a nasty look. “Stop it! You’re distracting me. We’re supposed to be reading.”
“I am reading. Can’t you multitask?” he teased as he turned the page in the book he had in his hands. “I’m on the third chapter about Transfiguration, and I still don’t see a damn thing in here about people becoming enchanted objects…” He stuck his lizard-like tongue out at her and Hermione couldn’t suppress her laugh. She hid her smile behind her hand and turned away from him with a roll of her eyes. Hermione felt something odd shifting inside her chest. Like butterflies. Like… like…
There's something sweet… and almost kind. But he was mean, and he was coarse, and unrefined. Hermione’s thoughts ran to the way he’d pulled away from her the night he brushed her hair. The uncertainty in his eyes that time in the kitchen when she’d nearly begged him to kiss her. She risked glancing over her shoulder at him and caught him staring at her past the edge of his book. He quickly looked down and turned the page in an obvious manner of trying to cover up being distracted from his work. Hermione couldn’t help it- she smiled. And now he's dear… and so unsure… I wonder why I didn't see it there before…
The prince settled back into his mess of papers and tried to focus on the book in his hands. But his eyes kept traveling across her body to her mane of chocolate hair and the determined expression on her face. Every now and then, she’d flicker her gaze toward him then quickly look away. It made his heart race in his chest. She glanced this way, I thought I saw… He recalled all the times she’d stepped inside his comfort zone. Of the soft look on her face as he kissed her knuckles. Of the two separate occasions she’d been bare for him in the mirror. Her soft skin on display… for him. Her words from that first time in the library echoed in his mind. {“You won’t let me see you. Or touch you… But I want you to see me. All of me.”}… And when we touched she didn't shudder at my paw… No it can't be, I'll just ignore…but then she's never looked at me that way before…
Hermione and the prince glanced at each other at the same time and she laughed in exasperation before putting down her book but kept it in her hand. She crossed the space between them and settled at his side. “We’re not going to get anything done if we keep pining over each other. So let’s just remove the middleman, hm?” she leaned her head against his shoulder and took up the book again. The prince, bewildered that she was touching him once more of her own accord, smiled softly and turned back to his pages. The witch could feel the warmth pulsing under his scales and was faintly aware of his tail flickering behind them as he read. But, oddly enough, she found both of those unusual things to be quite comforting to her as she turned the page of her book. New, and a bit… alarming. Who'd have ever thought that this could be? True that he's no Prince Charming, but there's something in him that I simply didn't see…
“Well, who'd have thought?” Plumette whispered excitedly to Mrs. Potts and the teakettle nodded.
“Well, bless my soul.”
“Well, who'd have known?” chimed in Cogsworth.
“Well, who indeed?” agreed Ella.
“And who'd have guessed they'd come together on their own!” Lumiere nearly laughed.
“It's so peculiar,” grumbled Chip, much to her mother’s glaring disapproval.
“Wait and see a few days more,” said Minnie eagerly as all of the enchanted items turned away from the cracked library door to give the two some privacy.
“There may be something there that wasn't there before.”
…
“I didn’t think she’d say yes!” the prince said in exasperation to the staff as he paced uneasily in his quarters. Nearly everyone, spare for the trapped Madame Garderobe and her beloved Maestro, who couldn’t climb the stairs due to the way the piano’s legs were angled, had gathered to advise their distressed master. Bunny showed him a large gray button-up shirt and he made a disgusted face at it as he paced. “I-I don’t even know how it happened. We were just sitting on the floor going over curses and then I asked her if she’d like to properly dance with me after dinner. I never thought she’d say yes!”
“But she did,” Lumiere said to him encouragingly. “This is it, master. A true chance to show her your heart. A chance for her to fall in love with you. A chance for…”
“I know.” The prince braced against the table that held the rose and stared at the weak, withering petals. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Everything depends on this dance… It has to be perfect. Make sure Cuisinier prepares that roasted duck she loves. The rosemary sauce has to be the best he’s ever made. Mrs. Potts- I need you and Chip ready to go with fresh tea. Lumiere- gather all the other candlesticks. Set the perfect ambiance. Perfect. I do mean absolutely perfect.”
“Sir, yes sir!” they all echoed as they hurried away to prepare the dining hall and ball room. All except two. Bunny cleared her throat and showed him another shirt. It was pale blue and the prince shook his head at it. She rolled her button eyes and glanced at Bear with an exasperated look on her cotton face.
“I’m going to find the right outfit for tonight. Just you wait. I promise- it’ll be perfect, my prince. Everything will be absolutely perfect.”
…
After dinner, the prince and Hermione went their separate ways back to their quarters to change for the dance. The witch paced nervously in front of the Madame Garderobe in nothing but her stockings as the wardrobe prepared her a wonderful dress for the evening. She was feverishly brushing the snarls out of her chocolate hair as her mind whirled with anxiety.
“May I confess something to you?” she asked at last as she tugged on a particularly difficult snarl.
“Of course, dear. Anything.”
“I… I must admit my relationship with the prince is… complicated. He reminds me of someone, but I can’t ever remember who it is… I… I will admit I’ve flirted with him a bit and… perhaps, done a bit more than that…”
The wardrobe stopped spinning her fabrics and glanced at Hermione with a look of shock on her painted face. “What do you mean ‘more than that’?”
“Well, I’ve…” Hermione’s face filled with color. She gestured down at her body. “I’ve… let him see me, if you understand…” When Madame Garderobe looked aghast, Hermione covered her breasts in embarrassment. “We haven’t!... I mean, we didn’t… He won’t. He won’t even touch me.”
“Well, I’d say he’s nervous, dear… He isn’t exactly himself.”
“No, but… I don’t see all of that. I don’t care that he’s cursed…” Hermione smiled softly then shook her head. “But that isn’t the reason I’m bringing this up. I mean, I feel like I’ve been far more intimate with him than I’ve been with anyone else in my entire life. It isn’t about the… lust, per se, or the sexual enticing. It’s… this.” She moved her arms and gestured at her body again. “I… Trust him. I want for him to see me and know me. I want the same… But he blocks me out…” Hermione blinked slowly. “And for some reason, this damned dance feels like lovemaking. It’s so incredibly intimate and vulnerable- for both of us- for some reason… I’m terrified, Madame.”
“Well, then that means your feelings are true. Sex is easy. Intimacy is harder.” The wardrobe went back to spinning her fabrics. Hermione tilted her head thoughtfully.
“Do you remember anything? About before? Surely, you and the Maestro were… you know. Do you have any advice…?”
“Oh, my sweet little dove…” The wardrobe sighed deeply. “I can’t recall his touch. What he looks like. Who we were. It’s all lost…” She gave herself a little shake. “Now close your eyes and take off those horrible striped stockings! You won’t need them for this dress.”
Hermione smiled softly then nodded. She tossed the hairbrush aside, closed her eyes, and peeled out of her socks. She felt a shift in the air and then fabrics began wrapping around her. Her waist tightened as smooth silks and linings fell against her skin. She heard the Madame Garderobe take a deep breath that made her drawers rattle.
“Oh, absolutely wonderful… Open up, dear. Come look.”
Hermione slowly cracked her eyelids. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. The ballgown was extravagant and was an absolutely indulgent shade of Gryffindor gold. The sleeves fell off around her shoulders and exposed her collarbone. There were delicate designs painted all across the lacy bottom that resembled some of the architecture from the castle itself. Hermione, breathless and with tears in her eyes, stepped closer to the vanity and took her wand from atop it. She tapped the point of her wand against her scalp and her hair instantly tamed itself into curled ribbons of brown silk. She pulled back some of the strands and fastened her hair up with a golden clip the wardrobe extended to her then stared at her reflection for a moment. Her eyes caught on the scar across her arm and she rubbed it thoughtfully.
“Madame, can you make me something to cover this up? I don’t want him to think about it. Not tonight.”
“Of course I can, Hermione. Anything you wish.”
…
“Damn, I’m too good.” Bunny and Bear high-fived (high-pawed?) as the prince paced just inside the West Wing. He was dressed in a fine black suit with different accent colors than he usually wore. His tie, the buttons on his vest, and the cufflinks on his shirt were all Gryffindor gold. It clashed a bit with the deep green of his scales and the silver of his eyes, but the serpent figured Hermione wouldn’t notice that as much when she realized he was wearing traces of her house colors. Bunny and Bear had spent nearly an hour polishing his scales to shine and had even buffed and trimmed his claws. For what it was worth… he did look quite dashing. Just as the prince was beginning to tremble from nervousness, Plumette came fluttering from the East Wing with urgency.
“She’s on her way down now!” she called and the entire staff scattered down the stairs. The prince sent up a silent prayer then followed them. He made it only halfway down when he paused in his tracks- both his breath and his heartbeat stalling in his chest. Hermione stood across from him on the staircase, her brown eyes wide and skin glowing like moonlight in the candle flame. They held eye contact as they stepped out onto the center of the stairs together. He drank in every inch of her and shook his head.
“Madame Garderobe did a fantastic job on that dress. I love the gloves. And you know, I hate to admit this, but Gryffindor gold truly is your color…”
“I see you’ve put on a splash of it as well,” she returned with a crack in her voice. She was staring up at him with so much warmth that it threatened to burn. The prince just nodded once. Then, much to his amusement and surprise, Hermione pulled up the bottom of her dress skirt to reveal her shoes were not gold or maroon, but instead were black with Slytherin green glitter. He actually laughed at her.
“That clashes terribly with your dress,” he said with a great deal of mirth. Hermione’s smile widened as she dipped into a curtsey.
“And those cufflinks don’t match your scales,” she returned as the prince bowed to her then offered his arm. They were both grinning from ear to ear as she placed her hand in the nook of his elbow. They began to descend the rest of the staircase then slipped onto the base floor of the castle to head toward the ballroom. The prince kept stealing glances over at her as they went.
“You truly do look beautiful, Hermione,” he told her and she looked up at him, warm brown hues converging with silver pools. Her face flushed red.
“You don’t look so bad yourself…”
They stopped in front of the ballroom entrance to find Minnie and Ella waiting for them. The coat rack and umbrella stand bowed then opened the doors. Inside, the lighting was just right. The Maestro was in the corner, strumming his piano keys lightly as Plumette and Lumiere danced atop the lid. The prince took a deep breath then stepped inside. He slid Hermione’s hand to his own, brought it up to his mouth, and kissed her knuckles gently.
“My lady… if I may have this dance.”
“It would be my honor.”
The prince’s heart hammered in his chest as he placed a shaky hand around her waist as she slid her other onto his shoulder. Then Minnie started playing the violin along with the Maestro and the two of them were dancing across the floor. Unbeknownst to them, Mrs. Potts, Chip, Cogsworth, Bunny, and Bear were watching from the doorway with bated breath. Then the teakettle let out a soft sigh and Bunny rolled her eyes.
“For fuck’s sake, don’t tell me you’re about to start singing…”
“Tale as old as time…”
“I knew it.”
“True as it can be. Barely even friends- then somebody bends… Unexpectedly.”
Despite the sour look on her face, Bear gave the stuffed rabbit a prod and extended his arm to her. She made a motion as if to roll her button eyes, but then took his paw, and the two of them started to dance.
“Just a little change. Small, to say the least. Both a little scared, neither one prepared… Beauty and the beast.”
Cogsworth wiped at the glass over his eyes as if to rid himself of tears that weren’t forming.
“Ever just the same. Ever a surprise. Ever as before, ever just as sure as the sun will rise. Tale as old as time, tune as old as song. Bittersweet and strange- finding you can change. Learning you were wrong…”
Chip leaned against her mother as Hermione laughed at something the prince said to her as they danced.
“Certain as the sun rising in the east. Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme… beauty and the beast. Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme… Beauty and the beast…”
Just then, Lumiere waved his arms and then made a soft bowing motion. All the candlelight in the room dimmed until it was softly, sweetly set in shades of dusk. Plumette swept him off the piano and the two of them vacated the room to come stand next to the other staff. They all looked back as the Maestro and Minnie continued to lull the prince and Hermione with their music. The candelabra looked over his shoulder at the others as he ushered them out of sight.
“Come. Let’s leave them alone now. Let the magic do the rest, hm?” He hooked his arm around Plumette’s waist, cast one more glance over his shoulder, then the candelabra flicked his free hand and the doors to the ballroom closed behind them.
…
Half an hour later, Hermione was dragging the prince up the staircase toward the West Wing. Both of them were laughing about something- something they’d already forgotten as to what was so funny it had made them laugh. Her heel slipped on one of the stairs and she nearly tumbled, but the serpent caught her in his arms and she ended up with her face very close to his own. Again, her syrupy brown eyes met those silver pools. Her gaze shifted toward his mouth and he instantly turned away from her.
“I’ve had… a wonderful time tonight, Hermione. Your company is quite addicting, I’m afraid.”
“It doesn’t have to end now,” she told him slightly as she corrected her posture and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes were pleading as he turned to face her again now that there was appropriate distance between them once more. He studied her for a moment as her gloved hand reached up and gently touched his face, cupping his cheek. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her lips. Then Hermione was close to him again. He could feel her heat against him. He could hear her heartbeat. The prince swallowed hard when he realized his mouth was watering.
“H-Hermione…”
“Please don’t turn away from me.”
“What is it you want from me?” he asked in a low, tentative voice as he brushed his scaly thumb over her cheek. He flicked his gaze up to her eyes. “What is it that I can give you that you might be satisfied?”
“You. Just you. I want you to trust me.”
“I do.”
“Then don’t turn away from me.” The prince’s heart hammered in his chest as Hermione pulled her hand away from his face and brought her gloved fingers to her dress. She took the lace that was pooled around her shoulders in her hands and began to pull it down. Immediately, he reached out and grabbed her wrists to stop her.
“Not here,” he whispered with a crack in his voice. “Not on the open staircase, Hermione. Someone might see you.”
“Then take me to your room,” she whispered back. “So only you can see me.”
The prince felt a mixture of aggravation and admiration swell up in his chest for Hermione. Without even thinking about it, he reached out and gripped both hands around her waist then lifted her over his shoulder. She screamed then laughed as he carried her up the staircase and began to head quickly toward the cursed room in the West Wing. He pushed the door open with his foot then closed it again. He dropped her down on the tattered remains of his bed and placed his hands on his hips.
“You’re in my room. On an ancient, dusty collection of rags, feathers, and fabrics. Happy?”
“Yes,” she replied simply as she tried to adjust herself in the fluff of all her dress silks. She shivered and glanced over at the parapet. “Must you always keep the balcony door open?”
“It doesn’t stay closed,” he replied as he glanced first at the cloche that kept the rose, then outside to where snow was falling gently all around the grounds of the manor. “I’ve tried.”
“I don’t see how you don’t catch your death in here…” Hermione grumbled as she managed to wriggle to a standing position. She turned her back to the serpent then peered at him over her shoulder. Those warm brown eyes met his own and it made his heart flutter. “Help me? I can’t reach my corset strings.”
The prince thought he might faint. Slowly, with his heart drumming and his mouth dry, he reached out and took the ribbon that was laced through the eyelets between his fingers. He began to loosen the thread and he saw Hermione visibly relax as the pressure was taken off her ribcage. He stared down at the corset as it released its hold on her and he was able to see the soft, porcelain skin of her back. Once the restraint was loose enough, Hermione shook it off. Then she turned to face him as the fabric slackened around her torso. Her chocolate hues seared into him as she reached out her gloved hands and found his own. She drew him into her until they were nearly touching.
“Hermione,” he whispered in a taut voice. “What are you…”
“Take it off me. I want you to see me.”
The prince burned. I want you to see me. She kept saying that. Over and over again. He stared down into her burning amber pools and felt something stir inside of him. Without even meaning to, nearly against his will, the prince took the fabric in his hands and began to remove it from her. The gold threading fell away from her chest, her stomach, her hips. His pupils sharpened as the mass of lace and silk pooled at the floor around her feet. She stood before him, bare and moonlight pale, wearing only those golden gloves and black heels with Slytherin green glitter etched into the detailing. He ran a finger through her umber locks and she tilted her head at him.
“Don’t turn away from me,” she whispered as she ran her fingers across the Gryffindor gold buttons on his vest. The prince’s breathing was deep and labored as she began to undo them. “Let me see you…”
“Hermione…”
“I’ve seen your chest before. Don’t be afraid.”
“I’m terrified of what you’ll think of me.”
“Don’t be,” she told him softly as she pushed off his jacket and his vest. Her fingers worked on the smaller buttons of his undershirt (also Gryffindor gold). “I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a monster.”
“I see a man,” she replied without a moment of hesitation. She pushed the dress shirt off of him and now the prince stood before her in just black dress pants. Hermione placed her hand over his heart and felt its pounding rhythm against her palm. “Your heart beats just like mine.”
“You can’t just ignore what I am,” he told her in a soft, shaky voice as Hermione pulled her hands back to herself. She tugged off her gloves and let them fall to the floor. She again showed him the scar on her arm.
“Nor can you ignore what I am.”
“That isn’t what you are.”
“And this isn’t what you are!” she argued as she took his hand in her own and gave him a desperate tug. Her determination lit him on fire. The prince pulled his hand from her grasp then took her by the throat. He expected fear to cross her face, but only a flicker of surprise existed before an expression of pure delight blanketed her soft features. She tilted her head back and pressed into his palm with a bite of her lip.
“I could kill you right now if I wanted to,” he told her in a voice that didn’t hold nearly as much malice as he intended for it to. Hermione smiled at him softly as she reached for his other hand. She guided those scaled fingers between her thighs. The prince nearly folded when he found her wet already.
“If you wanted to,” she replied with a nod of her head. They held each other’s gazes for a moment before he released her throat and pulled his hand back from her. Hermione let out a breathy sound then carefully laid back on the bed in the scattered pool of her dress as she kicked off her heels. She was bare and breathless before him, her eyes caught on his face. She tilted her head at him when she noticed he was again tracing his gaze across her body like a predator hunting prey. “But what else do you want?...”
“Hermione…” His heart was hammering in his chest. The heat of her skin was radiating in waves and it was making his mouth water. He could feel the desire pulsing through her and was faintly aware of the soft beating of her heart. Prey. She’s prey. And I want so badly to dig my teeth in…
“Lay beside me,” she whispered to him. “Please?”
The prince blinked slowly. He stepped around the bottom of her dress then curled up at her side. He exhaled harshly, intoxicated instantly by the insatiable smell of her skin and the feverish rush of warmth from her body. Without meaning to, he reached out a hand and traced a claw delicately between her breasts then down her stomach. She caught her breath and arched her back against his touch. His hand lingered just above the top of her crest, dangerously close to that sacred place between her thighs. She parted her legs for him and tried to catch his eyes, but he wouldn’t look at her.
“You can touch me. I give you permission to…”
“With my scaled fingers and my lizard claws? I… I can’t. Your beautiful body deserves more than that.”
“Why can’t I determine what I deserve?” she asked him. Finally, the prince met her eyes. His hand didn’t move. “Why do you insist on doing it for me?”
“Because…” I care for you. The words wouldn’t come. Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed at him. She didn’t look away again and she didn’t speak. She cupped his cheek with one hand and brushed her thumb across his scales. Her other hand slid down her body, following the trail he’d marked only a moment before. Her fingers brushed his own before they dipped between her thighs. Her rosy pink lips parted as she pushed through burning slick and goosebumps littered across her skin. The prince’s head grew foggy with desire. He hadn’t felt lust like this in years. She’s burning me alive… My God, I’ve never wanted anything so badly…
“If this is as close as we can get for now, I’ll take it,” she whispered to him in a breathy voice that made him throb. “But don’t you dare turn away from me. I want you to see me. I want you to watch…”
“H-Hermione…” Briefly, his eyes flickered away from her face. Downward. To her hand as it moved in steady, blistering circles. He could hear the sound of her growing wetter, and it made him shutter. He laid his hand flat on her lower stomach and felt both the rush of her skin and the fluttering of her pulse through her veins. He wasn’t the only one who was throbbing. He felt saliva pooling in his mouth and swallowed it desperately as he leaned in as close to her as he dared. Her prickled flesh rubbed against his plated chest and again, the heat from her body nearly undid him. His pupils sharpened when her breathing started to quicken. He glanced back up at her face and saw that she was watching him. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes starlit, her lips parted. “Good,” he whispered in a low, dangerous voice that made the air still in her lungs. “That’s it. Just like that, love…”
“I wish it was you,” she told him desperately. The prince’s skin prickled and he dug his claws slightly into the flesh above her lower stomach. She gasped and arched her back into the pressure. “I w-wish you’d just touch me…”
“I can’t…”
“You can. I give you permission.”
“I won’t.”
“A tragedy,” she told him as the hand she had on his face trailed a burning line down his jaw, his throat, his chest. He saw her eyebrows pitch a bit and she bit her lip. She released it almost immediately and moaned- a soft, angelic sound that nearly brought the prince to ruin. “I-I’m close…”
He drew a shaky breath. “Good.”
“May I?”
“You don’t seem like the type to ask for permission.”
“Never done it before- wanted to try it out.”
He chuckled at her softly and shook his head. “If I told you that you couldn’t- would you stop?”
Hermione’s eyes widened. She stared into his face with a shocked expression. “You can’t refuse to touch me and also deny me! That’s cruel.”
“I never said I wasn’t cruel. You’ve just inferred that on your own.”
She shivered. “You wouldn’t tell me no.”
His eyes flashed with mischief. “I wouldn’t?” Silver hues converged with chocolate pools. She was barely breathing. He was breathing deeply- decidedly. The mouse was in the trap. Backed in the corner. At the mercy of the snake… “Stop.”
Hermione froze. She took a deep breath and held the air in her lungs. “My p-prince…”
“Hm?” He flicked his gaze over her. From her face, to her chest where he could see her heart pounding, to her trembling thighs and what was between them. He looked back at her and held her gaze. “Yes?”
“I take it back,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “Perhaps you are a monster.”
He chuckled at her again as he slid the hand he had on her stomach up her body, between the valley of her breasts, and took her throat in his palm. “I’ve been telling you that, love. Ah. Good. You can finish.”
Color filled Hermione’s face as his grip tightened. Her hand started moving again and it wasn’t three heartbeats later when she was pushed over the edge. She arched her back against her own touch and tilted her head back as far as she could. She cried out for him as her legs shook and the prince growled lightly in desire as chills raced up his entire body. He closed his eyes and drowned in the sounds of her voice and the rush of heat from her skin. When he opened his eyes again, Hermione looked stunning beside him. Her face was flushed, her hair was blanketed around her shoulders, and she was trembling. She moved to pull her hand away and he caught her by the wrist. The prince drew her fingers to his mouth and licked the mess from them. Her jaw dropped as he cleaned the spill before releasing her. She drew her hand back to herself and stared at him with awestruck eyes.
“M-My prince…”
“I shouldn’t have done that.” He flopped onto his back and covered his face with his hands. He rolled his tongue around in his mouth and groaned. “Now I’ll long for your taste every second I’m alive.”
“You can have it whenever you like,” she told him as she shifted beside him. Then, much to his surprise, she curled up against him and placed her head on his shoulder. He dropped his hands from his face then carefully wrapped an arm around her and held her as close as he physically could. He stared up at the destroyed ceiling and listened to the sound of her breathing. The smell of her perfume lingered in his nose, the heat on her skin warmed his scales, the tenderness of her touch melted him, and his mouth kept watering from the taste of her on his tongue. After a long time of just listening to her breathe, he swallowed down his anxiety and closed his eyes.
“Hermione, are you awake?...”
Nothing. He realized she was snoring softly. He brushed his thumb across her shoulder. “That’s okay,” he whispered in a shaky voice. “I just… wanted to tell you that I love you. That’s all… Sleep tight, Hermione. Sweet dreams.”
Notes:
Song credits to Disney for:
Days in the Sun, Something There That Wasn't There Before, and A Tale as Old As Time which are quoted in the movies.
Chapter 17: The Dawn of the Evermore
Summary:
{Hermione and Draco}
The Prince makes a decision that will affect everyone under his command, as well as his own future. All done in the name of a word he can't say out loud...
Hermione's going home.
Notes:
Ahhh we're so close to the chapters I've been WAITING FOR. I don't know why I'm so excited for battle at the castle but I've been frothing at the mouth for it since I started this journey. xD
Anywayyy. Woohoo. Drink some water and enjoy your journey to the stars. <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
{Wednesday, May 29th, 2002}
Come the morning, when the prince woke, he found Hermione had already gone. Also, much to his amusement, he realized that she’d pinned up some fabric along the open balcony to try to stifle the wind and it was quite a bit warmer in his quarters than usual. He stretched and yawned, then froze almost instantly when the events of the night before came rushing back to him. He rolled his tongue in his mouth and tasted her. He groaned and pushed to his feet. Her dress was gone. He dragged himself over to the mirror on the table and picked it up.
“Show me Hermione,” he murmured sleepily and he was instantly greeted by an image of her preparing the dining room table for breakfast. His heart began to pound when he realized she’d set their plates side by side instead of at opposite ends of the table. The prince tucked the mirror into his pocket then headed down the stairs with a slight skip in his step.
“Oh, good morning! I was wondering when you’d wake,” she said to him in a warm voice as she settled down in her seat. The prince took his place at the head of the table beside her and found he could barely take his eyes from her face. She held his gaze and smiled at him as she placed her hand on his own. “Did you rest well?”
Instantly, heat seared up the prince’s body and he had to peel his hand from under hers just to avoid undressing her with his eyes. He cleared his throat and Hermione chuckled at him as he selected a croissant from the plate in front of him and began to shakily lather it in butter. “I did. I slept hard. How about you? I know that my quarters aren’t very comfortable. It’s cold, and all…” He looked up and noticed that Mrs. Potts was making a surprised face at him as she poured Hermione a fresh cup of tea into Chip. The cup burst out laughing as Hermione spooned some sugar into her morning Earl Grey.
“You stayed in the master’s room last night?” Chipette demanded as Hermione pressed the rim of the cup to her lips. Color flushed to the witch’s cheeks immediately and she nearly choked on her sip.
“I did. We fell asleep together.”
“Is that all?”
“Chipette!” Mrs. Potts scolded and Hermione couldn’t surpress her laugh. She sat the teacup down then leaned in very close to her.
“I’ll tell you later,” she whispered.
“What was that?” the prince inquired as he swallowed his croissant whole. “What are you two chittering about?”
“Oh nothing. Nothing. Just girl’s talk,” Hermione replied with a beaming smile as she took a spoonful of honey and began to work it into her morning bread. “Nothing to concern yourself with really. I slept fine, by the way. Thank you for asking.”
The prince couldn’t help it. He smiled.
…
Following breakfast, Hermione shuffled back off to the library in search of a remedy for the curse. The prince took advantage of their time apart to have a quick meeting with the waitstaff in his quarters. And…
“You slept together?!” was the combined reaction. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his claws.
“No, we didn’t… I mean… We fell asleep side by side. We didn’t… Do anything. I mean, we did, but not…”
“Is any of this making sense to anyone else?” Bunny asked with a groan and Bear gave her a hard slap in the stuffing.
“Did you have sex or not?” Cogsworth demanded and the prince just deadpanned at him.
“Look at me. Do you think I’d let that beautiful woman be dishonored by me? No. We didn’t have sex. We just… I just watched her. That’s all.”
Lumiere nodded pointedly and squinted his copper eyes. “Do you think it was enough? Do you think she’s in love with you?”
“I don’t… I don’t know,” the serpent replied with an exasperated sigh. He clasped his scaled hands together and shrugged his shoulders. “I… I’m definitely in love with her though…”
“You best figure it out,” Mrs. Potts added with a note of urgency in her voice. “There are only two petals left.”
“I know. I know.” He stared at the cloche with wide, worried silver eyes. “I’ll try to gauge her feelings and have an answer by the end of the day. Let’s hope last night was magic enough.”
…
“Nothing! Still nothing.” Hermione groaned in exasperation as she flung herself down on the couch in the library. She glanced up just in time to see the prince enter through the cracked doors, his arms crossed over his chest and with an odd look on his face. “What is it?...”
“Hm?” he murmured as he sat on the couch beside her and shifted so that she could lay her feet across his lap. Hermione looked at him with those concerned chocolate hues and the serpent’s heart instantly began hammering in his chest. “Oh, nothing to be concerned with love… How’s the research coming?”
“Awful,” she replied as she exhaled all the air in her lungs. “I can’t find anything about this kind of curse at all. I don’t know what to do.”
“I don’t know if there’s anything we can do…”
“There is one thing. You all keep alluding to it but won’t tell me what it is,” she retorted as the prince gently began to knead the arches of her feet with his thumbs. His claws tickled her skin a bit, but Hermione forced herself not to react to the sensation in fear that he might stop touching her. She tried to catch the prince’s gaze, but he was making it a point to not look at her. “Please just tell me what it is. Is it some sort of dark magic?”
“Something like that.”
“What does it require? Blood? Sex? Murder?”
“No, nothing like that,” he replied quickly. Hermione huffed at him.
“Well then why won’t you tell me!”
“Because if I tell you, it will instantly fail,” he snapped and Hermione looked taken aback. The serpent blinked at her apologetically and continued to rub her feet. “It’s… a kind of magic in of itself. Something ancient, sacred, and powerful. I cannot tell you what it is. It has to be felt. That’s all I can say. I’m sorry.”
Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed a bit as she nodded in defeat. Then a thought came to her and she yanked her feet out of his grasp as she bolted upward on the couch. “Wait! I know someone I could ask. I have a friend back in town. He was a professor once… He’s very smart. He knows about all kinds of things. He may know…” She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Is there anyway the mirror can work both ways? Where I can talk to him?”
“I’m not sure,” the serpent replied. He remembered that the enchanted object was in his pocket, so he pulled it out then handed it to her. Hermione retrieved her wand from her hair and studied the reflective surface with a determined expression on her face. She tapped the end of her wand against the edge of the mirror.
“Show me Remus Lupin.”
The mirror shimmered and then he was revealed to her. Hermione’s face fell. The light died from her eyes and her mouth dropped in horror. “Oh… Oh no!”
“What is it?!” the prince scooted across the couch until they were side by side. He looked down into the mirror and his pupils narrowed. A pale man with graying copper hair was lying on the stone floor of a cell. He looked thin and unwell as a young woman with white hair tried to scoop some water into his mouth with her hands.
“Please, Professor Lupin, you have to drink…” she said in a faraway voice that was dripping with concern. “I know you don’t feel well, but you can’t give up…”
“Remus, please!” came a strangled cry that made Hermione drop her wand. Her breathing became very labored as she blinked tears from her eyes.
“S-Show me my father,” she croaked and the mirror’s vision shifted. In a cell identical to Remus’ own, Rubeus Hagrid was lying with his face pressed tightly to a stone floor. He was wrapped nearly head to toe in heavy chains and looked just as pale, defeated, and worn as the man in the opposite room. Hermione began to weep when he coughed loudly and the sound echoed with rattled breath.
“Don’t give up, old friend. We’ll get out of ‘ere. We will… We’ll get ‘Ermione back and ev’rything will be fine…”
“Everything will be fine,” echoed the girl with the blonde hair. “Please, drink, professor…” Hermione heard a weak slurping sound followed by a soft sigh. “There you go. You’ll need your strength…”
Hermione couldn’t stand to see anymore. She laid the mirror down on the coffee table in front of the couch and pushed to her feet. She began to pace by the window as tears formed in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. The prince’s heart was pounding as he stood and walked slowly over to her. He was gripping his own hands so tightly together than the force of it was turning the scales around his knuckles a shade of pale green.
“Hermione…”
“It’s Ronald,” she said through gritted teeth. “I know he had something to do with it. He got them thrown inside Filch’s Asylum. I… I can’t stand to see them in that terrible place. They’re the best men I know, I…” Hermione covered her mouth with her hands and shook her head. She began to cry again and it was too much for the serpent to bear. He took her in his arms and pulled her close to his chest. His mind whirled with selfish thoughts. She’s the brightest thing in my world. These last few weeks with her is the closest I’ve ever come to being truly happy… but it isn’t just about me… He clenched his jaw.
“You need to go to them. You need to get them out, to set them free.”
“What?” Hermione lifted her head. Tears were glistening on her auburn lashes as the prince ran a hand through her chocolate hair.
“I said you need to go. Now, while the sun is still up and the storm winds have died down. Fly with Buckbeak if you can. Go as fast as his wings can carry you. Go home, Hermione. Save your father and your friend. I’ll be here waiting for you, if you choose to come back.”
She held his gaze. “I can’t leave now,” she whispered with a shaky voice. “T-There’s only two petals left on the rose. We need to find a way to break the curse.”
The prince smiled at her sadly. “Your father is your family. If I knew where my parents were and how to save them, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to get them back to me. Go, Hermione. Go back to your real home and your real family. Save them while you can. Do this for me.”
Her lip trembled. She took a step back from him, but reached down her hand and interlocked their fingers as tears welled in her eyes. “I’ll come back to you. I promise.”
“I believe you,” he told her with a smile even as his heart began to shatter in his chest. The prince lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. He glanced over at the mirror on the couch and motioned toward it with a flicker of his tail. “Take it with you. So you can…” He cleared his throat. “So you can see me.”
Something unspoken passed between them and Hermione nodded in understanding. It’s what I’ve been asking for from him since the moment that we met… She turned back to him and kissed him on the cheek. Then she snatched the mirror from the couch, shoved it in her pocket, grabbed her wand, and went racing for the door. The moment she was gone from his sight, the prince felt all the air leave his lungs. Like the light was snuffed out of his world. He ran over to the window and watched for her as Hermione went racing from the castle with a bag slung over her shoulder. Tears formed in the serpent’s eyes as she climbed up onto Buckbeak’s back and spurred him into a gallop.
He grasped the scales over his heart as the hippogriff went racing across the grounds in a canter. “I was the one who had it all…” he murmured softly as he turned to the ladder that was pressed against the wall nearest him and began to climb up it. “I was the master of my fate. I never needed anybody in my life… I learned the truth too late.” On the second floor of the library, he raced over to another ladder and pushed it so it would roll. He coiled up the pegs until it stopped moving and he hauled himself through the gap in the railing on the third tier.
“I'll never shake away the pain…” He leaned against the bookcase as he wiped the tears from his eyelids. “I close my eyes, but she's still there. I let her steal into my melancholy heart. It's more than I can bear…” The prince ran until he came to the window on the far side of the third floor and pushed it open. He climbed out onto the roof and dug his claws into the shingles to hold his grip as he scaled up the side of the library tower. He glanced down and saw, with his heart aching in his chest, that Hermione and Buckbeak were airborne and gliding above the treetops.
“Now I know she'll never leave me. Even as she runs away… She will still torment me, calm me, hurt me. Move me, come what may. Wasting in my lonely tower. Waiting by an open door… I'll fool myself she'll walk right in. And be with me for evermore.” He made his way to the top of the library and held onto the spire that stood dark and proud against the bright, blue sky.
“I rage against the trials of love. I curse the fading of the light. Though she's already flown so far beyond my reach, she's never out of sight…”
Tears were streaming down the serpent’s face as Buckbeak’s massive wingspan was lost in the brightness of the sun. He took a deep breath and lamented his sorrow to the clouds above. “Now I know she'll never leave me… even as she fades from view. She will still inspire me; be a part of everything I do. Wasting in my lonely tower. Waiting by an open door. I'll fool myself she'll walk right in…” A pang in his chest nearly leveled him as he shook away the thought of being alone in his freezing room after knowing the warmth of her body on his. “And as the long, long nights begin. I'll think of all that might have been… waiting here for evermore!”
…
As the prince sang his sorrows out to the unmerciful blue sky, the grounds around the manor shook and groaned. He dug his claws into the shingles atop the roof as the castle shifted underneath them. Cogsworth’s springs tightened, Plumette’s feathers felt less like flesh and blood and more like goose-down, Lumiere’s joints stiffened, and Mrs. Potts hardened even further into porcelain. As the second to last petal fell into the soured soil around the flower’s base, the prince’s heartbeat slowed again. His human senses failed him. The agony sept from his body to be replaced by nearly primal, predatory desire. His pupils narrowed into thin slits as he slithered down the outside of the castle and landed on the chilled ground, eager and searching for a warmblooded meal to eat.
Standing watch on the parapet, the white peacock lowered his head and sighed as the coat rack approached him on nearly solid wooden feet. He glanced over at her with his dark, beady eyes and inclined toward her
“It’s almost over now, isn’t it?” she asked him and the bird nodded slowly.
“I think I’ll join you all inside tonight, Minnie. It may be our last.”
The white bird turned away from the open porch and followed her back into the castle. They gathered down in the main hall and everyone stood by the fireplace together. The Maestro played a sad, haunting song as Plumette and Lumiere danced stiffly to the beat. The sun had just set when Mrs. Potts came screeching into the room with a hysteric expression on her painted face.
“I can’t find my little girl!” she wailed. “I can’t find Chip!”
…
Lying silent and still inside Hermione’s side satchel, Chipette had determination baked into her porcelain features. My friend’s family is in trouble. And I’m going to help. Without knowing why, or understanding how, someway… the chipped cup remembered a time when she was very brave, standing across a great hall from a horrible pale witch with black hair and cracked yellow teeth. And that had taken all the courage in the world.
If I could do that - I can do this.
Even if it takes all the courage in the world.
Notes:
Song credit is 'Evermore' from the 2017 Beauty and the Beast.
Chapter 18: Filch’s Asylum
Summary:
{Hermione}
Our beloved Golden Girl returns to Hogsmeade... and finds the entire world has turned upside down.
Notes:
Hey starlets! I was really stuck on this part for a while but managed to piece something nice together today. I'm going to try to get another chapter out over here before the week is up. <3 I can't believe we're almost done! What a crazy ride.
Drink some water for me and enjoy your journey to the stars.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Easy, Beaky, easy!” Hermione hushed the hippogriff as he landed just outside her father’s hut. Hogwarts was outlined in eerie rays of pink and orange as the sun set beyond the trees. She hopped off Buckbeak’s back and tiptoed slowly toward the front door. She had just reached for the doorknob when she heard shuffling from the other side. “Papa!” Hermione thought her heart may burst as she pushed the door open… only to come face to face with Harry Potter. He lifted his hands innocently as she drew her wand. “What are you doing in my house?!” she snapped.
“Waiting for you, actually,” Harry replied as he held her gaze. “We were hoping you’d come back. Where have you been?”
“Where’s my father?” she demanded, in no mood for Harry’s games. “Why are you in my house?”
“I just told you,” Harry said evenly with the slightest edge to his voice. “I’m supposed to be here waiting for you. Your father is… away.”
“In Filch’s Asylum?” Hermione hissed and she watched with great satisfaction as all the color drained from Harry’s face. “Did you help put him there?”
She saw Harry’s eyes darken. “I was just following orders.”
“Ronald…” Hermione snarled as she turned on her feet. “What did he do?”
“Hermione, please! Wait!” Harry was after her as she stormed out of the hut and back over to Buckbeak. He tried to take her by the arm but Hermione shoved him away. “What are you planning to do?”
“I’m going to confront Ronald and set my father and Remus free!”
“How do you even know about that?” Harry hissed as she climbed up onto Buckbeak’s back. “Where have you been?!”
“In a castle with a prince!” she snapped. Harry looked taken aback.
“So… Hagrid was telling the truth?...”
“Of course he was, you idiot!”
“You can’t just face Ron all irrational like this. He’s… He’s crazy right now, Hermione. He thinks you and Remus Lupin are sleeping together.”
All of the color drained from Hermione’s face. “What?...”
“That’s why he made sure we locked him up too.” Harry ran a nervous hand through his hair. “I don’t know what’s going on with him right now, Hermione, but he’s… He’s just not right at the moment…”
“Come with me,” she hissed as she grabbed Harry’s shoulder. “Come on, up on the hippogriff.” Harry groaned and scrambled up behind her. Hermione looked a bit struck as she glanced over her shoulder at him.
“What?” Harry murmured dryly as Hermione gave Buckbeak a pat and he took off in a canter toward Hogsmeade.
“Nothing! He just doesn’t usually let anyone get up on his back without bowing first… I don’t know why he didn’t just tear you apart…”
“You told me to climb on knowing he was going to attack me?!”
“Serves you right,” Hermione snapped as she turned her head forward toward the path ahead of them. That peculiar feeling was creeping up her spine again. Like she’d forgotten something. A sharp pain stabbed through her temple, causing her to gasp and clutch the side of her skull. Behind her eyelids she saw Buckbeak standing in a clearing during the bright sunshine of a summer day. Harry was walking toward him, bowed low with sweat forming on his brow. The hippogriff lowered his head to him and the vision cleared from Hermione’s mind.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked her as Buckbeak blazed through the night. She shook her head.
“No, Harry, quite frankly I’m not… I keep getting these… these flashbacks, I suppose, of another life. In them things are different. Hogwarts is different. We’re different. Everything is all… twisted and out of order…” And in that reality, I’m in love with Ronald Weasley… Hermione’s stomach churned and she decided to keep that thought to herself. She thought Harry was going to call her crazy, but he was just staring at her oddly through his glasses.
“It’s strange you say that. Because I haven’t been feeling quite right about things lately either…”
“Shh! Beaky, easy,” Hermione whispered to the hippogriff as they neared Hogsmeade. The half bird, half horse slowed to a trot as they slipped under the metal entry sign. Buckbeak nickered slightly as they made their way silently across the town. Harry gave Hermione a light tap.
“So, you said you were in a castle?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“In the Forbidden Forest?”
Hermione nodded. “Yes. Buried deep inside. It’s a manor unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”
“And the prince? Your father said there was a horrible monster.”
“He… He isn’t a monster, not really, Harry. He’s… a troubled man. He’s cursed to look like a serpent. But he’s actually quite sweet…”
“Well, well, well. The missing daughter returns.” Hermione’s blood turned to ice. She spun Buckbeak around and he came snout to snout with Ronald’s thestral. Ron’s blue eyes held a menacing glow that brought chills up Hermione’s spine as the hippogriff took a few calculated steps backward. “Thank you for bringing her to me, Harry.”
“You set me up?” Hermione snapped over her shoulder and saw nothing but pure regret streaking across the Gryffindor’s face.
“N-No! I had no clue he was going to be out tonight.”
“I’ve been so worried about you, Hermione,” Ron told her in a syrupy sweet voice. “Where have you been? Come, let me take you back to my father’s house and we can get you all cleaned up…”
“Where is my father?” she demanded as she set her jaw. “What have you done with him, Ronald?”
“Hagrid… and Mr. Lupin are missing, I’m afraid. They went off into the Forbidden Forest looking for you and never returned.”
“That’s a lie,” Hermione snapped as the blood began to boil in her veins. “I saw him! I saw him and Remus in a cell in Filch’s Asylum. I’m going to set them free and you can’t stop me. Now, stand aside Ronald… or I’ll have Buckbeak tear you to pieces.”
Ron seemed to contemplate the threat for a moment. Then, he gave his thestral a nudge in the side and she took a step back away from Buckbeak. The hippogriff snapped his beak at Ron as they passed but then the Weasley boy let out a long, dog-like whistle. “Harry, come on.”
“It’s late,” the other Gryffindor replied without looking at his best friend. “Hermione shouldn’t go to the asylum alone. I’m going to escort her.”
“No,” Ron said simply. “I told you to come on.”
“And I told you no,” Harry retorted and Ron looked as if he’d been struck. Buckbeak kept walking and distance formed between them. “Get Neville to be your lacky. I’m done following orders.”
“A foolish mistake, Potter. Just you wait. Just you wait…” Ron turned his thestral away and the two of them disappeared into the darkness. Hermione exhaled the air she’d been holding in her lungs and glanced over her shoulder at Harry in surprise.
“Thank you for that. It was very foolish and very brave. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know I didn’t,” Harry told her with a small smile. And then, his eyebrows furrowed a bit in confusion in much the same way hers always did when she had the weird flashbacks. “But… you’ve done the same for me- somewhere in another world. The least I can do is return the favor.”
Hermione offered Harry her first genuine smile as Buckbeak crossed over the stone bridge that led to Filch’s Asylum. The high walls and stoic stone made her shiver and she pressed tightly against Harry as she heard the faint sound of weeping and screams from inside. Once at the gate, they dismounted together and stepped through the front door with a loud creak from the hinge. Filch was nowhere to be seen and there were no guards around. Harry and Hermione drew their wands anyway.
“Lumos,” they said at once as they walked through the halls side by side. Harry glanced over at her and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
“So. The castle… what’s it like?”
“Incredible,” Hermione replied as she shifted the strap of the satchel she had slung over one shoulder to the other side of her body. “It’s enchanted. Well, cursed, technically… And a lot of the things inside of it are alive. They used to be people. My wardrobe was enchanted- she’s married to the piano. A feather duster named Plumette is married to a candelabra named Lumiere and they love each other very much…”
“Hermione, I’m not trying to be judgmental, but you sound insane right now.”
“I know I do. I can show you once we get Papa and Mister Lupin out…”
“Hermione? I swear I heard Hermione…”
“Professor!” The two Gryffindors sprinted down the hall. They turned a corner and bolted down a row of empty cells until they found two that were filled at the end of a dimly lit corridor. Hermione began to weep as she slid to her knees in front of the bars that held her father. “Papa! Oh, what have they done to you? Why are you chained up so tightly?!”
“’Ermione!” Hagrid was sobbing. “Oh, my sweet girl! I can’t believe you’re ‘ere. How did you get away from em?! That terrible monster!”
“He let me go, Papa,” Hermione told him as she wiped her tears away. “He’s different. He’s so kind. He knew I was worried about you and Remus so he let me go. He did- he really did…”
“Harry, what are you doing here?” Remus demanded as he pressed tightly against one wall away from one of the wizards who had trapped him in the first place. “Is this a trick?”
“Hello Harry Potter! It’s nice to see you,” Luna Lovegood said brightly from the other corner and Harry just stared at her blankly.
“Uhm. Hi. Do I know you?... And no, Remus, I’m here to help actually…”
“Well, look what we have, Filch. Two more crazies to add to the bunch.”
Hermione felt cold like nothing she’d ever known race up her spine. Before she even had time to get herself together, she saw Ron flick his wrist. “Expelliarmus!” Her wand flew out of her hand.
Harry readied his own only to be directly sucker punched in the face by Argus Filch. He slammed back against the bars of Remus’ cell as the Squib curled his gangly, skeletal fingers into his hair. Hermione couldn’t watch anymore as heavy black boots stomped on the floor over to her. She lifted her eyes upward and found Ronald Weasley’s pale blue pools burning into her own. He tutted at her and shook his head.
“Poor girl. And to think, all of this could have been avoided if you’d just agreed to marry me.”
“Leave ‘er alone!” Hagrid screamed as Filch threw Harry roughly into the cell beside Luna and Remus. Instantly chains snaked their way from the walls and bound his hands and feet.
“Ron! Ron, I’m your best friend!” Harry screamed, but the Weasley boy just turned away from him.
“I think I’ll be investing myself in Neville Longbottom from now on, Harry. Thanks for the suggestion.”
Hermione saw a moment of opportunity as Ron was distracted. She jumped to her feet and searched desperately for her wand, only to realize with horror that it was trapped cleanly under Ron’s boot. She backed up against the wall, her heart hammering in her chest as both he and Filch started to encroach on her.
“N-No! I’m not crazy. And either is my father. I can prove it. I can show you the beast…” She held Ron’s gaze as she reached into her satchel and found the handle of the mirror. She pulled it out and turned it to face the men in front of her. They both laughed.
“What is that? A cursed mirror?” Ron chuckled in a whining, mocking voice. “What’s it going to do to me, Hermione? Make me grow horns and wolf’s feet?”
“Show him to me,” Hermione said in a plain, clear voice even though she was trembling from head to toe. “Show me the prince.”
The mirror’s reflective surface shivered and she saw both Filch and Ronald freeze. The Weasley boy looked horrified and the expression of terror on his face made her smile. Hermione tilted the mirror back toward herself so she could see what they were looking at… and her heart nearly stalled. The tender prince she’d known seemed to be nearly gone. Any humanity in him was stripped away. He was curled up in the nest of rags in his room, his pupils narrowed into slits and expression feral as he used his razor-sharp claws to saw at the flesh of a rabbit. He cut off a chunk the size of his palm and swallowed it whole.
“What kind of monster is that?!” Filch hissed with repulsion. “Some type of snake man?”
“N-No! I mean, yes, he is a serpent, but he’s… he’s not like this. The rose, the petals! He’s just sick. I can help him…” Fear coursed through Hermione as she shook the mirror to clear the image away. But she knew the damage was done. Before she even had time to react, Filch grabbed her by her wrist and Ronald snatched the mirror away. Hermione screamed and punched both of them as they worked together to wrangle her toward the cell her father was in. She kicked her feet and caught Ron square in the groin just as Filch opened the door.
“Let go of me!” she screeched as he tore her satchel from around her then threw her inside. Hermione’s head cracked on the concrete and she groaned in pain as she slowly sat up. She moved to rub her throbbing skull and realized her arms were already shackled and chained. She screamed and thrashed against the bindings, but the more she struggled, the tighter they became until she was levelled to the floor like her father. She glanced over and found that she was staring directly into Hagrid’s dark, watery eyes. Tears formed on her lashes as she reached out her hand as far as she could. Their fingertips were only a few inches apart.
“Don’t worry, Hermione,” Ron told her in a grainy, cold, calculative voice that made her heart ache. She shifted her head and stared out the cell at him. He was breathing very heavy, his face pale and clammy from her blow to him. He was holding the mirror in his hand- staring down at it as if it were the most precious thing he’d ever seen. “I’ll take care of it for you, love. I’ll kill it.”
“No!” Hermione screamed. She tried to lunge forward but the chains on her ankles just tightened and she groaned in discomfort and agony. “No, you can’t! You mustn’t!”
“Lupin, you said the Acromantulas prefer to hunt at night?” Ron glanced over his shoulder but the professor was looking pointedly at the wall. He shrugged his shoulders and Ron spat at him through the bars. “First thing in the morning then, I’ll gather some good men and we’ll go kill the beast.”
“No!” Hermione wailed this time as tears spilled down her face. “Please… Please Ronald. Don’t hurt him. Please… I’ll do anything…” She met his gaze and shuttered. “I’ll even marry you. Please. Just… leave him in peace.”
All of the air in the room seemed to still. Ron was staring at her with so much shock on his face it was nearly comedic. Remus snapped his head to the side and parted his lips.
“N-No, Hermione. You can’t.”
“Shut it, wolf boy!” snapped Ron and Lupin glared at him hatefully. “Do you mean it? You’d marry me?”
“I would,” she told him in a panicky voice. “I-I could learn to love you. We could forget all about this. I could be a good little wife…”
“’Ermione,” Hagrid nearly sobbed but she just eyed him harshly and he silenced.
“You’d deal with me, when you don’t even care for me…” Ron’s mouth twitched. “For a monster?”
Hermione clenched her teeth. “He… isn’t… a… monster…”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you had feelings for this feral creature!”
Hermione bared her teeth at him and he scoffed in disbelief. “First the werewolf, now this? A bloody serpent!”
“You’re not half the man he is!” she snapped and Ron’s face instantly hollowed. He tilted his head at her. He held her stare for a long time before looking at Hagrid, then across the hall to Harry, Luna, and Remus. His best friend shook his head at him.
“Ron, you don’t have to do this,” Harry told him in a desperate voice. “Please. You’re a good man, I know you are. This isn’t you.”
“I’ll show you what I am, Potter,” Ron spat. “You’ll see.” He glanced over his shoulder at Hermione and shook his head. “I’m afraid our wedding will have to wait, my love. I have to skin a snake first.”
“No! No! No, you fucking monster! Leave him alone!” Hermione half-sobbed, half-wailed as Ron and Filch left the corridor. Tears rolled down her face as she turned her head again and stared at the scar on her arm that read ‘mudblood’. She thought then of the prince running his thumb gently over it and it nearly broke her heart. Hermione kicked her feet as much as she could and screamed and screamed and screamed until her throat was raw. That monster is going to kill my prince… and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
Notes:
Psycho Ron is k i l l i n g me.
My boy. I'm massacring my boy. ;x;
Chapter 19: A Cup of Gin
Summary:
[Ron and Hermione]
The youngest Weasley rallies the town for an attack on the castle that's hidden in the Forbidden Forest. Hermione gets help from an unexpected place.
Notes:
Hey starlets! Sorry I'm so late on this update. I REALLY struggled with this chapter for some reason. Maybe that's why it's so short?... x_x But don't worry, there's good stuff coming up. The closing parts make up for it.
Anyway, I'll have another update for you on Tuesday. Drink some water for me and we'll talk soon! <3 Enjoy your journey to the stars (:
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
{Thursday, May 30th, 2002}
Ron and Neville stood steady as stone in the center of the town. Everyone was watching them with wide, disbelieving eyes as Ron retold the story. He was patrolling, as they’d been doing in case Hermione, Lupin, or Hagrid returned, when he’d heard a disturbance from the woods. He approached the Forbidden Forest to find Hermione being toted off by the Acromantulas. He’d tried to save her, only to be attacked himself (which accounted for the scratches and bruises he had across his body). By the time Neville showed up, Harry too had been taken and… it was too late. He and Ron barely escaped with their lives. Ron managed to salvage Hermione’s satchel. And inside of it… he'd discovered an article of great magic.
Now Ron was holding the mirror level with his chest, showing everyone who’d gathered around the horrific image of the serpent nesting in his room. Blood was smeared across the prince’s mouth and his serpent eyes stared blankly into nothing. The townspeople were watching in absolute disgust and horror as the first few rays of dawn began to paint Hogsmeade in shades of pink, red, and gold.
“This is the monster that held Hermione prisoner,” Ron called clearly as he handed the mirror to his brother. Bill took it with a revolted look on his face. “She escaped, but it is my belief that the spiders work with this beast and are taking her back to him. If there is any chance that Harry and Hermione are still alive, we have to try to save them! For all we know- Remus and Hagrid are being held captive by this beast as well. We cannot let this stand.”
“Who knows how far the serpent’s malice may reach?” Neville continued as the mirror was handed off through the crowd for everyone to see. “What if he decides to come here now that he knows there are fresh bodies so nearby? What if he attacks Hogsmeade?”
“He wouldn’t,” Arthur murmured, shivering as the mirror passed through his hands. “He’s one creature against all of us. Surely he wouldn’t try to come here…”
“Who knows?” Ron replied with a shake of his head. “The risk is too great to avoid.” He turned his gaze toward his older brother with genuine concern swirling in his eyes. “I worry for my own flesh and blood, little Victoire. If this monster comes here… how safe is she? I couldn’t live with myself if something were to happen to my niece. Something we could avoid.”
Bill’s eyes were deadly calm. He glanced over at Fred, George, and Percy. They nodded to him as he looked back to his younger brother. “So you truly believe this is the only way?”
“Absolutely,” Ron replied. “We must kill the beast.”
Neville, who was now walking through the crowd, flicked his wand and the end of it pulsed with light. “The beast will make off with your children. He'll come after them in the night. We’re not safe until he’s dead. I agree with Ron. I say we kill the beast.”
“I… suppose you’re right,” Bill said after a moment, looking conflicted, but horrified nonetheless. He was beginning to fill with regret over having ever doubted the town’s favorite hero. He glanced at Ron as he slung his quiver of arrows over his back. “So what’s the move then, little brother?”
“We march through the forest as a unit. Cast lumos- the spiders stray away from the light. We take whatever we can to deter them: lanterns, torches, fire. We storm the castle, find the creature, kill it, and free the prisoners.”
“Is there no way where this doesn’t end in a massacre?” Arthur asked his son as Ron walked over to Neville and the two of them stared into each other’s eyes. Longbotttom shook his head.
“We're not safe until he's dead,” Neville said loudly and a murmur of agreement followed his words. “He'll come stalking us at night.”
“Set to sacrifice your children to his monstrous appetite,” Ron agreed as flames of fire were lit through the square. Bill, still looking conflicted, nodded his head and drew up his wand.
“He'll wreak havoc on our village if we let him wander free,” Neville continued as he slapped Argus Filch on the back. He leaned in close to whisper to him. “Watch the cells. My silencing charm should hold.” The asylum owner nodded, turned on his feet, then disappeared through the crowd.
“So it's time to take some action, boys,” Ron called clearly as he mounted his thestral and gave her a nudge. She turned toward the path that would lead them toward Hogwarts and the Forbidden Forest. Ronald Weasley had a cold fire in his dark blue eyes as Neville took to his side. “It's time to follow me!”
…
“Let us out!” Harry screamed again before admitting defeat. He laid down on the cold stone floor and exhaled all the air in his lungs. “It’s useless, no one can hear us. It’s dawn now… He’s rallying them. You can hear the bloody war song out there…”
“We can’t give up,” Hermione nearly sobbed as she lifted her head to catch Harry’s eyes. “There has to be something we haven’t considered…”
“Lupin, you can’t use some hidden wolf strength or something?” Harry asked and the former professor shot him a cold glare.
“Only during full moons- and I don’t have any control over it. I’m afraid I’m not much help at the moment.”
“Maybe the nargles could help…” Luna, who had the most relaxed chains and the most wandering freedom of any of the prisoners, shuffled over to the cell door and leaned her forehead against the bars. “Are there any nargles out here who could help us?”
“What’s a nargle?” Hermione asked and Remus smiled at her softly.
“A creature Luna can see- apparently. They tend to live in mistletoe.”
“It’s the middle of summer,” Hermione said flatly, but Luna’s smile never faltered. She was staring down the corridor with a determined look on her face.
“They favor mistletoe, but they can live in all sorts of things! I believe I saw one attached to your satchel when you came in. Oh nargles! We need some help!” Luna called again. Harry dropped his face into his hands and sighed.
“There’s nothing we can do,” he said bitterly. “Ron’s going to kill the prince and we’ll all just be trapped here forever…”
“Or until he decides to kill us,” Remus added in a dry tone. “I say he’ll butcher me first. Murder me when I’m a wolf and mount my head on his wall.”
“We won’t let em do that, Remus!” Hagrid bellowed and his friend smiled at him gently.
“You’re chained all the way to the floor, Rubeus. What can any of us do for each other?...”
Just then, an echo of voices outside the asylum silenced everyone inside- except for Luna, who kept calling out for help from nargles. There was the pounding of boots on stone and a war song of malice and death in the air that turned Hermione’s blood to ice. Tears welled in her eyes as the mob of townspeople went by- and all they could do was listen.
“Through the mist, through the woods. Through the darkness and the shadows. It's a nightmare- but it's one exciting ride. Say a prayer, then we're there at the drawbridge of a castle and there's something truly terrible inside…”
“The castle doesn’t even have a drawbridge. Idiots” Hermione grumbled as she tried to turn against her chains but couldn’t budge more than an inch. The tears rolled down her face and she was powerless to wipe them away.
“It’s a beast! He’s got fangs, razor sharp ones. Massive paws, killer claws for the feast. Hear him roar, see him foam. But we’re not coming home… ‘til he’s dead. Good and dead. Kill the beast!”
…
Down the hall, to the right, and in a dusty, unkept room, Hermione’s satchel was draped across Filch’s desk. The caretaker came in, summoned Mrs. Norris from her napping place upon the chair, then headed off to torment his new wards. The satchel shifted as Chipette inched her way out of it- her painted eyes wide in horror of the townspeople’s song and everything she’d heard since being a stowaway. She pitched her porcelain eyebrows in determination and slid off the desk on her saucer. As quietly as she could, the little teacup went scooting from the room- following the sound of Filch’s footsteps.
…
“Light your torch, mount your horse. Screw your courage to the sticking place. We're counting on our Ron to lead the way.”
Ron smirked at the resounding song and glanced down at Neville who looked up at him adoringly. “Call it war, call it threat. You can bet they all will follow. For in times like this, they’ll do just as I say,” he whispered and his right-hand man nodded eagerly.
…
Harry leaned his head back against the stone and sighed, closing his eyes. “There’s a beast running wild, there’s no question… But I fear the wrong monster’s released…”
“Sally forth, tally ho! Grab your wand, grab your bow. Praise the Lord and here we go… Kill the beast!”
“Mad. Whole damn village ‘as gone mad!” Hagrid groaned as Filch appeared before them with a lit torch in his hands. The flickering flame light drew heavy shadows on his already skeletal face as he peered in the cells at all five of them.
“Ya hear that outside? That’s a war cry, pests,” Filch said to the room, his gritty voice echoing around the dungeon. “Soon the monster will be vanquished and you’ll all be safe.”
“Are you fucking insane?” Harry’s voice was caught somewhere between a laugh and a scream. “Safe? While Ron’s galivanting around with this hero complex?!”
Filch blinked at him heavily and smiled in an eerie way that showed all his teeth. “The next full moon is a month away, isn’t it, Lupin?” Remus didn’t look at him. “How hungry will you be by then? Starving almost, I’d wager. With so little on your stomach in a month.” The former professor set his jaw. “What happens when that moon goes up and your chains come off? How long will little Luna and hero Harry last?”
That got his attention. Remus slowly turned his head toward Filch with a terrified expression on his face. “Y-You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I would. Mr. Weasley gave me explicit orders. He paid me quite well, and I still have another half coming once his plan sees fruition. On the dawn of the 25th of June, once you’ve torn the others apart- except for Hermione, of course- you’ll be dragged into the forest. If the Acromantulas don’t eat you, I’m sure you’ll stumble back into the village- confused, hurting, with the taste of blood in your mouth. We’ll have told everyone by then how you and the serpent, the other monster, were in league all this time. That you were keeping Hagrid, Hermione, and Harry all held hostage in the Shrieking Shack. It’s why the townsfolk won’t find anything in the cells of the castle they’re storming. After the snake was killed, you went mad having lost your only companion. You waited until the moon was full and well…” Filch clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Vengeance.”
Remus was so pale, Hermione wondered if he’d died from shock. But then she saw his lip begin to tremble. “Nobody will believe that. I’ll tell them the truth. I’ll tell them everything…”
“If you do- Hermione will be Imperioed to collaborate the entire story. Then she and Ronald will live happily ever after, and you’ll be right back here rotting for the rest of your miserable life.”
The witch screamed and kicked her feet. “You’ll never get away with this!”
“Oh, but my dear…” Filch’s beady eyes were on her. “We already have.”
The softest little tapping sound drew everyone’s attention. All eyes turned to the staircase just as a porcelain teacup on a saucer appeared at the top of the steps. Filch’s pupils blew until they nearly swallowed his irises when she turned her painted face toward him.
“Not yet you haven’t!” Chipette leaped up and launched her little plate at the Squib. It hit him square in the forehead and sent him reeling back against the bars of the cell that held Harry, Luna, and Remus. Without a word, Luna grabbed him by his head and slammed the back of his skull off the iron. Filch let out a small, strangled sound then sank to the floor.
“Sorry, Mr. Filch, sir!” she apologized as Chip scooted into the dim lantern lighting. Hermione squealed as happy tears rolled down her face at the sight of one of her castle friends.
“Chipette! What are you doing here?!”
“I stowed away in your bag!” the teacup told her proudly as she slid across the concrete and got right up to the bars of Hermione’s cell. “Oh, hello again, Hagrid!”
“Hi,” croaked the half-giant as Chip slid through the gaps and skidded over to Hermione.
“How can I help?”
“Keys,” Hermione replied urgently. “There’s keys on his belt.”
“I don’t have hands, Hermione!”
“Help turn him toward me!” Luna called and the little teacup spun around to face her. Determination lit on Chip’s face as she scooted across the room and nodded. Luna’s dreamy eyes lit in recognition. “Ginny!”
Just then, that familiar pain pierced Hermione behind her left eye and she hissed in discomfort. “Not now, Luna! We just need to get out of here!”
“Alright!” Chip, who had been staring at Luna in confusion, began ramming herself against Filch’s unconscious body. She kept at it until he was on his side. Then she slid over his stomach and nudged her handle against his belt to shift the ring of keys toward the iron bars. Everyone held their breath as Luna reached through the gap in the cell and began to work the hoop off his belt. Luna’s hands were trembling as she found the familiar key, reached around the bars, and placed it in the lock. She tried to turn it, but the shackles around her wrists wouldn’t allow her.
“No!” Hermione cried, but Chipette just smiled in determination and leaped up, carefully snagging her handle on the key. She began to rock back and forth. Slowly, bit by bit, the key started to turn. “Oh, Chip, be careful…”
“I am! It’s shifting. Almost there… Woah!” The key turned, the door unlocked, and Chip slid from her post. Hermione’s heart nearly stopped as the teacup went plummeting toward the ground. Luna reached out and caught her handle just before she would have smashed onto the concrete. Hermione exhaled all the air in her lungs, tears welling in her eyes, as Luna tucked Chip in close to her chest then sat her on the ground.
“Are you alright?” she asked in her usual faraway voice. Hermione could tell Chip was shaken a bit, but she nodded anyway.
“Think so.”
“Good.” Luna smiled at her. “The cells require a key, but the chains we’re in are magic. We need a wand, Ginny. Do you think you can bring us one?”
Something odd passed between the two of them for a moment and then, the teacup nodded. “I think I can manage it. Hold on!”
…
What felt like an eternity later, Chip groaned in frustration as she nosed Hermione’s wand up the stone steps and rolled it over to Luna. The blonde witch took it in her hand and swished it at Harry’s bindings. “Finite Incantatem!” she said clearly, and immediately the chains fell away. Harry groaned as he rubbed his sore wrists and then took the wand from Luna. He freed her first then Remus. The three of them hurried over to the cell across the hall and quickly unbound Hermione and Hagrid. The three familiar people embraced tightly, leaving Luna and Harry on the outside looking a little lost. Chip slid over and bumped herself against Remus’ tattered shoe.
“It’s nice to meet you, sir!” she called up to him and Remus looked down at the chipped cup in bewilderment. “Hermione has told me so much about you!” He collected her from the ground and shook his head.
“A talking teacup…” He chuckled. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
“You’ve met before!” Luna sighed in exasperation. “But nobody wants to believe me!”
“We don’t have time for that right now!” Hermione said urgently as she brushed by her father and friend to head down the corridor. “I have to find Buckbeak and make it to the castle…”
“And what about us?” Harry asked as he placed his hands on his hips. “We’re coming with you.”
“Are… are you?” Hermione turned quickly, her eyes wide. All of them smiled- even Luna.
“Well of course we are,” Remus told her with a nod of his head. “This is our fight now too, Hermione. We won’t let you do this alone.”
With her heart pounding in her chest, Hermione nodded slightly. “Alright then. Let’s go save the prince.”
Notes:
The version of 'The Mob Song' presented in this chapter is from both the original and 2017 remake of the Beauty and the Beast.
Chapter 20: The Battle at Malfoy Manor
Summary:
{Hermione}
The mob from Hogsmeade makes it to the castle, and our beloved enchanted manor staff fight on borrowed time.
Notes:
Heyyy starlets. Sorry I'm behind. My work schedule has been ALL OVER THE PLACE... again. x___x
Anyway. We're almost to the good parts!!! AHHH
Overall, I'm pretty happy with this chapter. I hope y'all like it too.
I'll have at least one more chapter for you this week sometime. I promise.
Drink some water for me and enjoy your journey to the stars!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Through a mist, through a wood- where within a haunted castle something’s lurking that you don’t see ev’ry day. It’s a beast! One as tall as a mountain. We won’t rest ‘til he’s good and deceased. Sally forth, tally ho. Grab your wand, grab your bow. Praise the Lord and here we go! Kill the beast!”
Froufrou’s panicked barking alerted the rest of the staff to the disturbance in the forest. Tucked in front of the fireplace, Lumiere untangled himself from Plumette’s feathers and followed the piano stool onto the second floor. He hopped on Froufrou’s back and stared out into the forest. The candelabra’s top flame flickered when he saw countless torches glowing in the woods. Then he heard their war song and the warm wax around his face chilled.
“Sacrebleu! Intruders! Go, Froufrou, to the master’s quarters!” Lumiere held on to the tassels along the piano stool’s side for dear life as it reared on its hind legs and went bounding up the steps through the castle. Froufrou and Lumiere burst through the prince’s bedroom door and found the air inside was beyond frigid. The candelabra looked around in a panic and saw the giant serpent curled up in a corner under a mass of blankets. He bolted over to his master and began rubbing his warm coils across the snake’s icy skin. “My prince! You’re freezing! I must get you out of here.”
“L… Lumie… Lumiere…” The serpent chattered through clenched teeth. “Can’t… I can’t remember… Who am I?...”
“Master, please.” The candlestick took the prince’s hand in his own and pulled with all his might. “You can’t stay here- it’s too cold! We must get you some place warm to thaw. They are storming the castle!”
“Who?...” The snake’s eyes were hazy and confused. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I don’t… Come on! You have to help me.”
“Doesssn’t matter,” the prince murmured numbly. The candlestick froze when he realized how much emphasis now lingered on the letter ‘s’ in his master’s words. “I’m hungry. Ssso hungry…” Froufrou circled around to his back and tried to nudge the frigid serpent into an upright position. “Lumiere, I’m ssstarving…”
“You can hunt later, my prince. Please…” Lumiere was beginning to panic. “I need to get you warmed up. Lean on Froufrou, he can help you. We won’t give up.”
The prince looked terrified as he tried to stand but couldn’t. He collapsed against the piano stool, his silver eyes flashing with fear. “Monssster. I’m jussst a monssster…” Then the serpent’s pupils sharpened and locked on something beyond Lumiere.
The candlestick just had a moment to duck out of the way before his master summoned all the strength he had in his body and sprang forward. He went crashing against the far wall, his arms coiling around something that was warm-blooded and struggling in his grasp. The candlestick heard a squeak, a crunch, and then silence. Froufrou and Lumiere slowly backed away, horror struck as the prince unhinged his jaw to devour a very unlucky castle rat. Lumiere’s head snapped to the side when he heard a pounding noise from below.
“We’ll lay siege to the castle and bring back his head! We don’t like what we don’t understand- in fact it scares us. And this monster is mysterious at least. Bring your wands, bring your knives. Save your children and your wives. We’ll save our village and our lives. We’ll kill the beast!”
Lumiere glanced over at his master, but saw not a shred of the kind prince he knew existed underneath. Only a serpent digesting his prey. The candelabra patted the piano stool’s side. “Come on, Froufrou. We need to get ready for a war.”
…
“Where’s the prince?!” demanded Plumette with a strained note to her voice. “My love, where is he?!”
“In his quarters,” Lumiere replied as he paced on the end table by the door. All of the enchanted members of the castle had gathered to listen to him as the encroachers continued to hammer on the door outside. “We have no time to waste or wait on him! We must prepare for an attack.”
“But what do we do, Lumiere?” Cogsworth demanded. “They have wands and arrows and swords and torches…”
“We are not defenseless,” the candlestick retorted with a proud shake of his fist. “I have fire. We have weapons.” He turned toward Mrs. Potts- who was still weeping and heartbroken since the disappearance of her daughter. “Rally your courage, my porcelain lady. To the kitchen. Get Cuisinier to prepare the knives and forks. We must be ready if we are to fight.” Mrs. Potts nodded pitifully then turned her trolly away and slunk off toward the kitchen. “Everyone else? As we practiced. You know what to do.” He took Plumette in his arms, dipped her back, and kissed her. “It’s show time.”
…
“Kill the beast! Kill the beast! Kill the beast!”
“Stand back!” Neville shouldered Bill and Percy aside and pointed his wand at the serpent-like knockers. “Bombarda Maxima!” The doors blasted open and the inside of the castle was revealed. It was deathly quiet as Neville, Ron, and Arthur all slowly entered. The rest of the party followed, their glowing wands raised and torches held out in front of them to aid in the stuffy darkness.
“The place looks to be abandoned,” Arthur murmured as he picked up a disposed candlestick from the floor. “All this rubbish everywhere.”
“Rubbish?!” came an offended squeal from somewhere above them. All eyes turned upward and the entire mob paused in disbelief. A feather duster was floating in midair, her painted eyes blazing with anger. “That’s my husband you’re talking about!”
“Now!” Screamed the candelabra and Arthur dropped it with a shriek.
Suddenly the room was alive with light, color, and sound. And all hell broke loose. A barking piano stool came racing from the shadows and bowled through half the mob like they were nothing. Spells went flying from the hunting party in all directions, but nobody seemed to know what they were aiming at. The feather duster swooped down and suctioned herself to Arthur’s face, sending him reeling back against the wall as he tried to pull her off.
Fred and George were being boxed back and forth between an umbrella stand and a coat rack as Percy was pinned up against one wall by a very angry piano that kept firing keys at him. A clock and a teakettle were chasing Bill around the room and the talking candlestick started unceremoniously setting random members of the party on fire by their pants.
Ron and Neville managed to duck out of the way of saucers, forks, and knives that were being dropped on them from above. Ron yanked his companion over by the staircase just in time to avoid an entire chair being launched over the balcony by a couple of stuffed animals. Neville turned his head toward Ron with his eyes wide in shock.
“Hermione and Hagrid really weren’t kidding about this place being enchanted!”
“What does an enchanted castle have against us? We’re wizards!” Ron replied as he flicked his wand toward another falling piece of furniture. “Reducto!” he cried, and the end table was reduced to fine ash.
Just then, a terrible screeching sound made the two men abruptly turn their heads just in time to see a great, white peacock come barreling toward them from the upper banister. It scratched at them with razor-sharp talons and pecked at the tops of their heads. “Swine!” it screamed as Ron’s wand fell from his hands. “Trespassing swine!”
“Get away from my boy!” Arthur bellowed as he flourished his wand. His face was red and furrowed in thin, papercut-like scratches from Plumette’s feathers. “Stupefy!” The peacock screeched at him and pulled upward, managing to flutter away just before the spell made contact with it. Ron hauled himself up from the floor and grabbed Neville by the arm.
“I’m going to look for the beast!” he told him through the chaos. “You man the others!”
“I want to come with you!” Neville argued with a hurt look on his face. “What if you need help?”
“I don’t need anyone,” Ron replied shortly as he turned away and began to sneak up the staircase in search of the serpent. Neville looked as if he’d been struck. He was about to turn back into the fray when the piano stool knocked him off his feet.
He crashed to the ground, smacking his head off the stone floor just as the trolly with the clock and the teapot went racing by him. He managed to stick out his foot just as they passed and the cart launched forward and crumpled against the banister to the stairs. The teakettle and clock screamed as they were sent flying through the air. The candlestick broke the timepiece’s fall, but there was nothing to save the porcelain pot. And then, out of instinct, Arthur reached out his hands and caught it a moment before it would have smashed to the floor. Painted eyes met blue depths and something odd sparked between them.
“Oh!” Mrs. Potts cried. “Arthur!”
“Mollywobbles?” The word came out without him meaning for it to. His left eye twitched as he lifted the teakettle a little closer to his face. He stared at it and it stared at him. “Molly?” His entire world seemed to stop. “Mrs. Weasley?”
…
“Come on, Buckbeak!” Hermione pleaded, but the hippogriff couldn’t pull the carriage. Between Hagrid, Harry, Remus, herself, and Luna- the weight was too much. Buckbeak whinnied in defeat and looked miserably over his shoulder at his companions. Hermione screamed in frustration and hopped from her seat on the wagon. She began to unfasten the beast from his harness as Hagrid jumped down behind her.
“You, Luna, an’ ‘Arry go on. We’ll catch up!” he told her as he pulled Hermione into a tight hug. “You’re young an’ quicker anyway. We’ll be right behind you.”
“Ah… Okay. Okay. I love you, Papa.” Hermione let him pick her up. She kissed his cheek then nodded in determination. Hagrid placed her on Buckbeak’s back as Harry and Luna climbed on behind her, settling tightly in around his wings.
“I love ya too, ‘Ermione. Now go and save your prince!” He slapped Buckbeak sharply on the rump and the hippogriff shrieked. He extended his wings, took off in a canter, and leaped into the sky. As they flew out of sight, Remus gave himself a little shake and straightened his sweater.
“So we’re running to the castle then?”
“I’m runnin’. You’re gonna hold on tight.” Much to Remus’ horror, the half-giant scooped him up like he was a new bride and hugged him close to his chest.
“Hagrid, I can run just fine!”
“I’m sure ya can,” the colossal man told him as he took off in a ground-shaking sprint toward the forest. “But I’m faster!”
…
“There’s something you should know!” Luna cried over the wind. Chipette was screaming in excitement, looking down at the world passing by below them through the spaces between Harry’s fingers. “Hermione, it’s very important. You must listen to me.”
“Luna, please! I don’t have time for nonsense right now.”
“It’s not nonsense!” Luna snapped and, for the first time since Hermione had met her, she seemed to lose some of the dream-like quality she had in her voice. “It’s true! The world is all mixed up here. We aren’t supposed to be like this. There’s something very wrong. Don’t you see that? The enchanted items are more than just that- they’re cursed to not know who they are. And so are we! Rubeus Hagrid is not your father. You’re muggleborn. Ron’s not a bad man, he’s just bewitched. Please listen to me!”
Hermione’s head was starting to pound. She pressed her fist to her left eyebrow and held the pressure. Somehow, someway… I feel like I know that. Like DeJa’Vu. Like I’ve heard all this before. She glanced over her shoulder at Luna. “Alright. Say that everything you’re saying right now is true…”
“It is!”
“Then I have a question. Who is the prince?”
Luna blinked and Hermione could tell from the faraway look in her eyes that she already knew the answer.
“I don’t know.”
…
Ron crept carefully up the stairs. He clung to the shadows and refused to go back- even as curiosity burned through him. He looked at the mirror and begged for it to show him the monster. He saw the beast, curled up and half-asleep, in a tattered pile of rags somewhere dark and quiet. Somehow, someway, he knew just where to go. The colder it got, the more sure he was. Finally, he found himself in front of a set of weathered doors laden heavy with claw marks. His heart was pounding in his chest as he pushed them open.
The smell of decay hit him first. The freezing cold second. And finally… the unmistakable marks of a predator. Small animal bones lay strewn across the floor. Scraps of fur scattered under his boots as he walked. Then he saw the monster. He thought at first it was dead- its eyes open but filmed over, not moving, still. And then, ever so slightly, he saw it breathe. Ron’s eyes glittered with disbelief as he flicked his wrist. The bead of light on the end of his wand moved and it caught the creature’s attention. Silver eyes slid over him and he froze.
“What… are you?” he asked in a trembling voice as he set his jaw. “You’re a monster.”
The serpent slowly raised his head. His lips drew back and showed horrible teeth. Ron readied his wand.
“It’s time to kill the beast.”
…
“We’re too late!” Hermione cried as Buckbeak soared over the frozen grounds of the castle. They could hear the screaming from inside and tears started forming instantly in her eyes when she saw smoke rising from different points of the manor. “I’m going to check on the prince. You two try to stop this madness! I’ll meet you in a moment.” Hermione pulled gently on the hippogriff’s feathers and guided him over to the balcony that led to the familiar suite in the west wing. Before she even had time to think about what she was doing, Hermione pulled herself up and leaped for the parapet.
“Hermione!” Luna screamed as she scrambled up the side.
“I’m okay!” she called over her shoulder as she hauled herself over the railing and plopped onto the landing. “Go on!”
“Be careful!” Chip called to her as Luna took control and guided the hippogriff downward. Hermione’s senses sparked to life when she heard the sound of a struggle. She turned on her feet, wand at the ready, and froze. Ron slammed against the wall under the destroyed picture of the royal family. He crumpled to the floor as the serpent’s tail released his ankle. Hermione covered her mouth, white fog rolling through the spaces between her fingers from her hot breath converging with the cold air. The prince reared back, his lips drawn in a snarl as Ron shakily got to his feet and lunged forward toward his wand.
“Ronald, stop it!” she screamed as she made her way forward, her heart pounding in her chest. “Leave him alone!”
“He’s a monster, Hermione!” the Gryffindor cried back as he reached for his wand. The prince’s tail caught his wrist and yanked him away from it. Ron hissed in pain as he was thrown across the room. Ron landed on the floor with a thud at Hermione’s feet. He looked up at her with madness storming in his blue eyes. “You can’t save this beast!”
“Yes I can!”
“He’s dangerous!”
“He isn’t like that with me.”
“Prove it,” Ron hissed through gritted teeth. Hermione turned her head. She met the prince’s feral eyes and swallowed down the lump in her throat. She took one step forward. Then another. She waited for some type of recognition. For something to let her know that he was still who she knew he was. But there was nothing but cold malice on his face and warm hunger in his eyes. Hermione’s breath trembled. She pulled her wand from her hair and immediately dropped it to the floor.
“I know you won’t hurt me,” she said in a voice much stronger than she felt. “I know you won’t. I came back, see? I told you I would.” Hermione stepped closer. The serpent drew back his lips in a snarl. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the rose, nearly naked and withered, under the cloche. Her eyes softened as she looked back at him. “There’s only one petal left. I’m so sorry, my prince. I shouldn’t have left you.” She took another step. She was within reaching distance of him now. I know… I know he can hear how hard my heart is beating. All the warm blood in my body… She refused to look away from him. “I see you,” she told him softly. “Do you still see me? Do you remember? Please, my prince. This isn’t who you are.”
Something odd crept up Hermione’s spine just then. Something familiar, yet unknown. Luna’s words echoed in her mind like wishes down a well. The world is all mixed up here. We aren’t supposed to be like this. There’s something very wrong. Don’t you see that? A searing pain spread from behind Hermione’s left eye. She gritted her teeth, refusing to look away from the serpent. She searched herself, her memories, and all the splices of a different life somewhere far, far away. She saw the blond boy- the same one stitched into the torn tapestry on the wall. She recalled that night in the tub when she touched herself thinking of him. Of all the pieces that didn’t fit and all the pieces that did. The world is all mixed up. Don’t you see that? Don’t you…
{“No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood.”}
Her eyes widened. The voice, the hair, the eyes. A boy, brooding and blond, staring at her across a classroom. An apple in his teeth. Tears in his eyes. She slapped him. She screamed at him. She hated him. She hated him. She hated him. She… A broomstick. Riding gloves. Sweat, mud, pouring rain. Slytherin green. A boy, brooding and blond, running away. He’d done something terrible. He’d done something unforgivable. She hated him. She hated him. She hated him. She…
“Draco,” Hermione said in a voice barely above a whisper. She saw a flicker of light in his silver eyes as the wildness fled from his face. “Draco Malfoy. I see you.”
He tilted his head at her. “H… Hermione Granger?” Then his pupils sharpened. They glanced beyond her. His lips drew back in a snarl again. The prince reached out and shoved her harshly out of the way just as she heard the swish of a wand. Hermione hit the ground and had no time to understand what was happening before a new, terrible reality crawled in.
“Sectum Sempra!” Ron screamed. A flash of white light hit the prince square in the chest. Hermione saw horror and terrible understanding cross his face. Then he crumpled to the floor in a rapidly forming pool of blood.
Notes:
Still tagging along with parts of The Mob Song from Beauty and the Beast.
Chapter 21: The Last Petal
Summary:
{Hermione and Draco}
The spell is broken. But the curse isn't over.
Notes:
Hey guys! Sorry it's been a while. I'm back now. (I've also started working on my next project. Woohoo!)
Anyway. I'm really proud of this chapter. We're almost done. Weeee. <3
Let me know what you think!
Drink some water for me and enjoy your journey to the stars. :)
Chapter Text
“What did you do?!” Hermione screamed as she crawled over to the prince, tears streaming down her face. Sobs were already bubbling up her throat as she clutched his head close to her chest. “No, no, no! Reverse it! Ronald, there has to be something to take it back!”
“I…” The young man looked struck. Hermione’s own wand rolled from his grasp. Blood coated Hermione’s trembling hands as she ran her fingers across the serpent’s plated face.
“Shh, shh. I’m here, I’m here, Draco…” She scrambled for her wand, horrified by the streaks of crimson as she took it in her shaking hands. She pointed it toward the snake’s damaged chest and shook her head. “D-Draco… tell me what spell to use. I-I can’t remember…”
“Doesn’t… matter,” the prince whispered to her. He lifted a hand to her face and weakly tucked a stray strand of curly hair behind her ear. “Hermione, you came back.”
“Of course I did. Of course. I…” She shook her head, tears flying in all directions. “How do I reverse the spell? Do you know any counter curses? Think. Think back to Hogwarts. Tell me…”
“Hermione…”
“Don’t! Don’t die,” she pleaded as the wand slid from her hands. She cradled his head close to her chest and sobbed. “Please don’t leave me.”
“It’s supposed to be this way,” he whispered in a low voice. “You’re supposed to be with him. With Ron.”
Hermione blinked the tears out of her eyes just long enough to glance up through her copper lashes and stare at Ronald Weasley. Anger flared in her chest and she wished for a moment she had the prince’s power. She wanted to leap forward, wrap herself around him, and squeeze the life from his body until there was nothing left. Instead, more tears just rolled down her face. She tore her gaze away from him and stared down into the serpent’s silver eyes instead.
“Maybe in another life,” she told him gently. “But not in this one. In this one, I w-want to be with you… I should have never left…”
“Is your…” The serpent sucked in a hard breath. As he inhaled, more blood pooled underneath him and it made Hermione sick to her stomach. “Your friend and your father okay?...”
“Yes,” she replied in a cracked voice. “I want for you to meet them.”
“Oh, Hermione… I already have…” The serpent’s lips cracked in a smile. “R-Remus Lupin and Hagrid will… take good care of you…”
“Please,” Hermione whispered. “I don’t understand…”
“I told you once…” His voice was barely above a hush. “In my parents’ room- I told you… You remembered… At least a little… I… I don’t know what will happen next. I’m so sorry, Hermione…” She saw regret flash in the prince’s eyes. “Please forgive me.”
“What?...” Hermione’s heart plummeted. His head turned in her hands and she saw his pupils lose focus. She brushed a bloodied thumb over his still lips. “M-My prince?”
“Hermione…” Ron tried to approach her and she glared at him with more venom in her eyes than the snake had in his entire body.
“Get. Out.”
“But Hermione…”
“Get out!” she screamed at him and Ron turned on his heels. He walked quickly from the room without looking back. Tears blurred her vision as she glanced over her shoulder at the glass cloche on the table.
The last petal fell and the entire castle shook.
…
“What’s happening?” Percy asked through bloodied teeth as the manor trembled around them. Any fighting still going on between the remaining townspeople and the enchanted objects was starting to slow. “What’s going on?”
“Oh no…” Luna, who was keeping the piano stool from chasing around Cogsworth, shivered as a gust of cold swept through the castle. “Oh, Harry, we’re too late!”
“Too late for what?” Harry asked as he pulled Neville out from underneath the calming piano. He looked around in awe as massive cracks shot down the castle walls. “Luna, what’s happening?”
“We’ve got to get out of here!” Ron screamed from the staircase as he came racing down the steps. “Come on, everyone!”
“I can’t leave her,” Arthur called in a choked voice from where he was sitting on the ground in the center of the room. He was holding the teakettle in shaky hands as he brushed his fingers across her porcelain face. “Oh, my Molly…”
Every one of the Weasley brothers winced like they’d been struck.
“What did you say?” Ron asked as he stepped off the staircase. “Dad, why are you holding that teapot?”
“Mum!” Came an excited cry as Chip came scooting across the floor toward Arthur and Mrs. Potts. The teakettle beamed and wriggled in the man’s grasp. “Mum, I’m here! I’m---” Chip’s voice faltered. The teacup slid silently forward and clanked against Arthur’s boot. He picked it up with one hand as Mrs. Potts wailed.
“Chipette?! Chip! My little girl- oh, say something! Say something!”
“Chipette…” Arthur brushed his thumb over the cup’s painted face. “Oh… Ginny?...”
“Arthur, keep us together. Please don’t let us be apart again. Take us b-back home. Keep us together- all of us… I… I…” Arthur sobbed as he clutched the teakettle close to his chest. He lifted the pot to his lips and kissed its porcelain surface.
“Molly?” he whispered but Mrs. Potts didn’t answer him. “Molly!”
“Mum?” Fred slid to his knees beside his father, tears welling in his eyes. He brushed his thumb over the teapot’s spout. “M-Mum?”
“My love!” The piano called desperately up the staircase. Very faintly, a sob echoed back to him. “I am sorry I never got to hold you again! I’ll find you in the next life, I promise. I’ll…”
“Maestro? Maestro!” Ella cried as the umbrella stand gave up her bashing of George Weasley. She hurried over to the piano’s side just as the stool bounced over to her. It barked once, twice, then was quiet and still. Ella’s voice choked into silence as the umbrella went flat against the side of the piano, hitting one of the keys as it fell. Minnie corrected her, gently placed her back into the wooden base, and then didn’t move again. The white peacock approached the coat rack and pecked at her still form.
“Lumiere, I-I’m scared,” Plumette whispered through her sobs as she wrapped her feathered fingers around the candlestick. “Our boy! What if we never find our son?”
“I’ll find him, my darling, I promise,” Lumiere whispered in a hoarse voice. “I’ll fix it. I’ll make this right. I’ll keep you both safe. I swear it.”
“You’re a horrible liar, my love,” Plumette told him in a voice that was barely more than a gossamer sound. “Always have been.” She was still in his arms and her wings folded down to her side. Lumiere wailed as Cogsworth stiffly walked over to him and placed a handled hand on his shoulder.
“My f-friend,” he groaned. “I’m out… out of time…”
“H-How can you be out of time?” Lumiere asked in a strained voice, refusing to let go of Plumette. “You’re an o-oversized watch.”
Cogsworth wheezed a laugh as his handles reattached to his side. “It was an honor to be your friend, Lumiere… Farewell.” The clock’s eyes closed and he was still. Lumiere looked around the room at all the terrified, transfixed faces of countless people. He held Plumette closer as the feeling of life and warm blood started to drain from him.
He glanced down at the feather duster in his arms then back at Cogsworth. “The honor… was mine.” His candles blew out.
“Oh no…” Luna collapsed to her knees as she picked up two stuffed animals from the wreckage of the castle- one a teddy bear and one a bunny. She held them close as she looked up at Ron with wide, tearful eyes. “We’re too late. Ronald, what did you do? What did you do?!”
…
Hermione wasn’t sure how much time passed. She cradled the prince’s head to her chest and cried until no more tears would come. She screamed and wailed until her throat was raw. She wrestled with his final words, with what Luna had told her, with the last few weeks. She saw moments of a life she couldn’t remember flashing before her eyes. She felt agony unlike anything she’d ever known and it burned her from the inside out. Maddened by all the things she felt, all the things she couldn’t understand, and all the things she did know- Hermione came to a single, undeniable truth. Finally, after what felt like hours, she brushed her lips against the prince’s own and shook her head as one more tear rolled down her face and dripped off her nose.
“I love you, Draco Malfoy,” she whispered gently. Hermione closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his own. “I love you.”
The icy chill in the air shifted. Hermione felt the static. The hairs along her arms prickled as she lifted her head and saw the snowflakes that swirled into the room were suspended in mir air. The glass cloche shattered. The petals flickered back to life. Hermione’s heart hammered in her chest when she felt the prince lifting from her arms. She bolted to her feet and stood back against the wall, lips parted, bloodshot eyes blown as the silver rose petals drifted through the air and began to encompass the prince in ribbons of dark green light.
She watched the scales melt away. His tail disappeared, the talons vanished, the claws retracted. Bit by bit, second by second, the monster was washed away. Hermione let out a small gasp and covered her mouth when it was all replaced by moonlight pale skin, thin pink scars, and white hair. The stranger was delicately brought down from the air and placed on his bare feet. His back was to her and she could see the rapid movement of his breathing as he ran his hands across both his arms, his stomach, his face, then through his hair.
“Draco,” Hermione forced herself to say at last. A heartbeat of time laced between them. Then he turned around and all the air left her lungs. Familiar silver eyes scorched her to the bone as pale lips parted in a smile that revealed pearly white teeth and unusually long incisors. She took a step toward him and gently placed a shaky, bloody hand on his perfect face. “Draco Malfoy,” she said in a trembling voice. “I see you.”
“Hermione Granger,” he whispered in a voice that sent chills down her spine. “I see you. And I love you too.” He pushed his hands into her wild hair, tilted her head back, and kissed her. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she held him desperately close as heat spread through her entire body. The fire in his touch seared the cold away.
And the castle shook.
…
Starting from the very stone under Draco’s feet, light and warmth burst through the broken fractals of the manor. The ever-raging winter storm dissolved and a bright blue sky illuminated the grounds for the first time in years. Sunlight beamed down and shook the curse from the castle- breathing life into the manor again brick by brick, board by board, and inch by inch.
Arthur, who was still weeping, felt movement in his arms. Fred and George gasped. The redhead opened his eyes just to see the teakettle change into something else. Someone else. The porcelain cracked and from the pieces came a beautiful, curvy woman with frizzy red curls and big, wondrous brown eyes. The teacup went flying from his hands and landed at the twins’ feet as a young girl with waist-length red locks and a face covered in freckles. She stared up at them, they stared down at her, and then they all screamed.
“Mollywobbles!” Arthur cried as he tackled his wife backward onto the floor. “Oh! Missus Weasley!”
“Arthur!” Molly cried as she wrapped her arms around him. Ron’s face filled with horror as he covered his mouth with his hands at the realization of what he’d nearly done.
All around them, the castle was shifting. Pulling. Breaking. Renewing. The piano disappeared and revealed the shape of a short, plump man with a long, untamed mustache. He gasped for air as he pulled up a young woman with neon purple hair from the ground. “Nymphadora, darling!”
“Daddy? Oh, daddy!” Tonks threw her arms around Ted’s neck and sobbed as Minerva McGonagall unfolded from the floor. Severus Snape, covered in white peacock feathers, bolted to his feet and offered his hand to her. Minerva groaned, let him help her to stand, and popped her back just as a loud screaming came from the staircase. Ted’s head snapped to the side as a beautiful woman with caramel skin and brown hair came racing down the steps- covered in rolls of fabric, bows, and strings.
“Andromeda, my love!” Ted raced to meet her, scooped her up in his arms, and twirled her around and around, sobbing as he kissed her mouth again and again. “My love!”
“So that’s who you are!” Luna laughed as the two stuffed animals she was holding burst out of her arms and hit the ground as a very annoyed looking Pansy Parkinson and a very grateful looking Theo Nott. “Hi again!”
“Do we know you?” they said at once and Luna rolled her eyes in frustration.
“Sirius, please!” Cogsworth, who was now Peter Pettigrew, cried as he went racing through the throngs of interacting people. He ran as fast as his ratty little feet would carry him as he was chased deeper into the castle by a mad man with wild black hair who had once been the piano stool.
“Peter, when I get my hands on you, I’m going to tear your springs out!”
“Somebody help me, save me! Sirius, please just listen! Wait, wait, wait!”
“Narcissa…” Lucius Malfoy stood in the middle of his own castle, his eyes wide and bloodshot as he stared down into the beautiful face of his wife. A smile brighter than the sun itself spread across her lips as she leaned up, threw her arms around his neck, and pressed her mouth to his own. He spun her around and clutched at her desperately as Peter’s cries for aid echoed through the castle. “Oh, my beautiful Narcissa…”
“Lucius,” she whispered when they finally broke the kiss. Her cheeks red and eyes welling with tears, she cupped his face. “Not in front of all these people, darling…” She winked at him. “Later, hm?...”
“Mum? Dad?”
All the talking in the room ceased. The gaggle of Weasleys (even Ron), who were wrapped around their long-lost mother and sister, turned toward the staircase. Standing side by side, their fingers interlocked, was Hermione… and Draco Malfoy. Lucius and Narcissa took a slow step toward him and Draco’s mouth twitched, as if not sure who he was seeing. Then, he released Hermione’s hand and raced forward. “Mum! Dad!” The young man threw himself into their arms and they wrapped themselves around him, screaming and crying and cooing.
“My boy! My beautiful little boy!”
“We’re here! We’re here!” came a breathy voice from the entrance to the castle. All eyes turned toward the front doors as the ground shook. Hagrid placed a very motion-sick looking Remus down on the ground and the lycan swayed as he leaned against the wall. He brandished his wand and waved it.
“What did we miss?”
“Oh, well…” Hermione rubbed her shoulder nervously. “We broke the spell, and…”
“Peter you fucking rat! Stop running away and just let me kill you!”
“AH! Someone please help me, stop him! He’s mad, I tell you, stark raving mad!” The moment was interrupted as the former clock came barreling out of another room. Sweat was streaming down his reddened face as he narrowly managed to dodge a pan being launched at his head. The chubby man cried out and went sprawling across the floor as Sirius came charging after him, brandishing more dishes and a rolling pin. An ancient house elf was following closely behind Sirius, waving a ladle that had obviously already been used to hit Peter- as it was dented and crooked to one side. “HELP!”
“Padfoot?” Remus’ voice was barely a whisper. Sirius froze, the rolling pin lifted high to smack Pettigrew again. His wild gray eyes turned to the former professor and Remus covered his mouth with his hands. “Padfoot, is it really you?...”
“Wait. That’s Padfoot?” Hermione laughed. “This entire time, I thought it was a pet!”
“I am a dog, if that counts,” Sirius replied shortly as he lowered his hand. He tilted his head and the rolling pin dropped from his fingers. His eyebrows furrowed as he scratched behind his left ear. “Moony?”
“You’ve been here, this whole time…” Remus blinked back tears. “I… Oh, I remember…”
Sirius tossed whatever else he was holding aside- making sure all of it hit Peter as he did- and went racing across the room. Before anyone had time to react, the former piano stool wrapped his arms around Lupin’s neck, pulled him forward, and kissed him. Color filled the lycan’s face as tears streamed from his eyes and he pushed his hands into the man’s shaded silver hair.
“Ya know,” Harry mused from across the room. “That makes a lot of sense.”
“No, totally,” the crowd agreed at large. “Really obvious.”
“So Remus wasn’t in love with Hermione,” Neville whispered sourly to Ron and the other man’s face just filled with red chagrin.
“Guess I had that wrong…”
“I’m still going to kill you, Peter,” Sirius called over his shoulder between kisses. “Just wait.”
“Oh, ‘Ermione…” Hagrid was nearly hysteric as he made his way through all the people and beamed down at his little girl. “I’m so proud of ya…”
“Papa…” She hugged him tightly, tears in her syrupy eyes. She wrapped her hand around one of his giant fingers and guided him through the room over to where Draco was standing with his parents. The young man dipped his head.
“S-Sir, I owe you an apology,” he said immediately as he looked into Hagrid’s dark eyes. “I treated you terribly when you came to my castle as a guest. Can you ever forgive me?”
Hagrid looked taken aback. He glanced over at Hermione and she stared up at him with pleading eyes. The half-giant beamed down at him. “Well… I think I can let it slide.”
Draco exhaled all the air in his lungs, smiled, and reached out toward Hagrid’s hand with his own. The colossal man rolled his eyes and hugged him, squeezing Draco so tight he nearly cracked all the bones in his spine. When he released him, Draco turned back to his parents and smiled sheepishly. He took his mother by the hand and led her over to Hermione, who looked suddenly very flustered.
“Lumiere, Plumette,” she greeted with a flash of familiarity for the two. “Oh, you truly are so lovely together.”
“My name is Lucius,” Mr. Malfoy told her with a soft smile. “My wife- Narcissa.”
“A pleasure to officially meet you…”
“This is all wrong!” Luna groaned suddenly with a frustrated stomp of her foot. “You all aren’t listening! You aren’t paying attention. All because this spell is broken, doesn’t mean we’re out of the curse! You all already knew each other. We met in school. Lucius and Narcissa don’t even like you, Hermione, because you’re a muggle-born. A-And Sirius!” The man looked over from where he still had Remus wrapped in his arms. “Do you even know why you’re so mad at Peter?”
“Well, no, but I’m sure… it was something awful.”
“He sold your best friends to Lord Voldemort and it got them killed!” Luna screamed and the room became very quiet again. At the same time, Remus, Sirius, and Peter Pettigrew all raised their hands and pressed them to their heads as if they were in pain. Harry pushed his glasses up into his hair and rubbed both of his eyes. Luna exhaled all the air in her lungs and shook her head.
“We aren’t free yet. I don’t know how we’ll get out of this mess, but we will. Especially now that we’re all together again,” she said after a while. Luna met Ginny’s eyes and beamed brightly at her. “I’m glad you’re not a teacup anymore.” Then she turned her gaze toward the Malfoys- some of the dreamy, faraway energy she usually held returning to her crystal blue eyes. “I know you’ve been gone for quite a while, but do you think we could perhaps prepare a feast? Filch’s Asylum has horrible food and I’d love a bowl of pudding.”
Lucius, despite the tension that now lingered in the air, gave a small nod of his head. “I say we’re due for a celebration. Kreacher!” He called and the old elf standing by Sirius lifted his head. “Let’s get to work.”
Chapter 22: The Last Page
Summary:
{Charlie Weasley}
Charlie gives his all to try and rescue his family. And help comes from the most unlikely place.
Notes:
What up, starlets?! Thank you for all the love I've been getting lately. I really appreciate it. <3
Drink some water for me and enjoy your journey to the stars.
Chapter Text
{Tuesday, June 4th, 2002}
Charlie was at the end of his rope.
For the last month, he’d sent out members of the Hogwarts Rescue Brigade to pour over every bit of written text that existed to try and find something about this type of curse. All of their correspondents from Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and Ilvermorny worked tirelessly for days searching through archives, libraries, and ancient texts. It was the middle of May when someone in Durmstrang thought they’d had an answer and sent Viktor Krum to Charlie with what they’d found.
Ten days, a ridiculous amount of ingredients, and many sleepless nights later had Charlie bent over a cauldron, dropping his own blood into a bubbling yellow brew. The potion had to be stirred every hour on the hour or the elixir was said not to work. He, Augusta, and Apolline took turns for the next three days, none of them daring to sleep at the same time lest they miss the scheduled stir. It then had to rest until the first day of the month before being left in a cool, dark place for four days.
Time was up.
Charlie, Dudley, and Viktor carried the cauldron out of the Burrow’s basement and sat it in the living room. Everyone held their breath as Charlie scooped some of the now brown elixir into a bottle and corked it.
“Alright. Time to go,” he said as everyone clasped hands. He tilted his head toward Harry’s cousin. “Dudley, you know Apparition can make you sick…”
“I don’t care. Let’s go.”
Charlie nodded with a small smile on his face as he slipped the bottle into his pocket. He glanced over his shoulder to where Archimedes was sitting on the porch, staring at him with wide eyes. “Meet us there?” he said to the owl and his companion nodded, leaped into the air, and spread his wings. Charlie turned back toward the group around him and saw determination on all their faces.
“One, two, three…”
There was a loud ‘crack’ and the brigade was gone.
…
Dudley threw up immediately once they all landed in the field where Malfoy Manor once stood. Charlie smiled apologetically at his friend and patted him on the back as he heaved the remains of his breakfast into the grass. “Sorry about that, mate…”
“S’okay,” Dudley panted as he forced himself to his feet, bracing between Charlie and Xenophilius Lovegood. “I’m o-okay. Let’s do this thing.”
“What are… we doing exactly?” Arabella Figg asked as Augusta handed Charlie the enchanted book. His heart was pounding in his chest as he flipped through the pages. He turned to the back and his eyes instantly watered.
There was a painted image of everyone he knew, loved, and missed dancing around in a grand ballroom with Draco and Hermione at the center of it all. He’d been keeping up with the narrative as it played out and was extraordinarily thrilled to find that Ron- er, Gaston?- didn’t die in this version. (They’d just thrown him, Filch, and Peter Pettigrew into the asylum). He closed his eyes, lifted the book to his lips, and kissed the image of his mother and father dancing together. When Charlie opened his eyes again, there was a fire blazing in his amber depths.
“This potion should extract them from the book,” he called loudly as he placed the enchanted novel down on the ground- its pages spread wide open. He pulled the elixir from his pocket and lifted it high. “I don’t know what kind of state they’ll be in once they’re here… The book cuts off at this ballroom scene…”
“We’re ready,” Apolline told him with a stern look on her face. “We can handle it.”
“Will the entire manor reappear?” Xenophilius asked with a slight shiver. “Should we run when you drop the elixir?”
“I… I don’t know.” Charlie frowned as he glanced over at Viktor. “Do you know anything about this potion or how it works?”
The former Triwizard Champion shook his head. “No. I know only what I was told. This potion revives things to their original state… I’m sorry, my friend. That’s all I know.”
“Then let’s err on the side of caution, hm?” Charlie called as he uncorked the bottle. His heart was racing. He kissed the glass and closed his eyes. Please… please let this bring them back to us. Please… He lowered himself to the ground, opened his eyes, and poured the elixir all over the open pages. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the book started to shake and the pages flipped rapidly as if someone was thumbing through it at breakneck speed. “Everyone get down!” Charlie screamed as he bolted away from the book, grabbing Dudley by his arm as he did.
The brigade scattered in all directions, throwing themselves onto the ground, Apparating away from the area, or diving into scraggly bushes. Charlie covered his ears with his hands, preparing for a sonic boom. Seconds ticked by. His heart thundering in his chest was the only sound he could hear. Eventually, Dudley tapped his shoulder. Charlie opened his eyes and stared into the sad face of his friend. He mouthed something to him and Charlie didn’t have to hear him to know what he said. Nothing happened.
One by one, everyone got back to their feet or rejoined the group. A circle formed around the book, which was once again still with its pages spread open. Charlie slipped through the crowd and fell to his knees, staring down at an image of Ron leading a group of men into battle against the castle- most of which were his family. He brushed his thumb over Bill’s conflicted face and felt tears well in his eyes.
“Please,” he whispered in a choked voice. “Come on… Please…”
“Charlie?” Augusta’s voice was taught. She placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Ch-Charlie, we’ve done all we can…”
“No,” he said sharply. “N-No. I’m not giving up.”
“We’re out of resources, Charlie,” Apolline murmured as tears welled in her eyes. “We don’t have anymore money to keep pouring into this… everything we’ve tried has failed.
“No,” Charlie said again and Augusta flinched. “I-I’ll find a way. I can figure it out…”
“We’ve done all we can,” choked out Xenophilius. He was rubbing his bloodshot eyes. “We’ve tried everything.”
“No!” Charlie screamed as he picked the book up and slammed it on the hardened ground. “Fuck you!” He closed it and brought his fist down on it. Again and again and again. “Give me back my family! Fuck!”
Augusta couldn’t take it. She turned away. Maxime placed her massive hand on the older witch’s shoulder as she lifted a giant handkerchief to her nose and blew into the fabric. Charlie kept screaming, kept hitting, kept cussing. He shot to his feet and drew his wand. He pointed it at the book, his entire body shaking.
“Bombarda!” he cried and a jet of light spilled from his wand and snapped against the book. The novel went flying and landed a few paces away at Viktor’s feet- untouched. Charlie’s eyes stretched wide, his pupils blowing in anger. He stormed up to it and the Durmstrang Alumnus moved out of his way as Charlie pointed his wand at it again. “Crucio!” A jet of light. The book was thrown. Nothing. Tears streamed down Charlie’s face as he flourished his wand again. “Avada Kedavra!” Green light. Nothing.
“Charlie?” Augusta approached with measured steps as Charlie kept screaming curses, hexes, and spells down at the wretched book. Every time it was the same reaction- it would fly few feet away, but land on its back with the cover facing up- entirely unscathed. “Charlie?...” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Charlie!”
“I want my family back!” he cried as he turned into her arms. Augusta could barely contain herself, tears welling in her eyes as she wrapped him in a hug. “I-I want them back, Auggie…”
“I know. Oh my sweet boy, I know…” She rubbed his back comfortingly and glanced up at the sky. “I’m so sorry…”
“So that’s just it then?” Dudley asked over the silence. All eyes turned to him as he stood there, his hands in his pockets, his blond hair askew. “We’re just giving up? Just like that?”
“I don’t know what else to do!” Charlie wailed as he threw his wand on the ground by the book. “Nothing’s fucking working!”
“So we keep looking until we find something that does!” Dudley replied with an exasperated throw of his hands. “We haven’t come this far, done all this work, cried all these tears, and worked this hard for nothing!” He shook his head. “I h-have a wife now. And a little girl. I want for her to meet her Uncle Harry. I’m not giving up that chance for her. You all can, if you want. But I won’t stop until he’s home. Until they all are!”
“That’s very noble of you,” Apolline whimpered as she wiped at her eyes. “But I don’t think anything else can be done…”
“Let’s take a break. Take a second,” Miss Figg called over the building tension. “Let’s… I don’t know, do something, and then we can try again. There’s plenty more of that potion…”
“The potion doesn’t work,” Charlie grumbled as he pulled out of Augusta’s arms. “Nothing does.”
“Charlie,” Dudley said in a stern voice as he stormed toward his friend. He grabbed the defeated Gryffindor by his arm and shook him. “Please. Don’t give up.”
“I don’t know what else to do,” Charlie repeated in a broken voice as he bent down and picked up the wretched book from the ground. “I’ve given everything I have…”
“Try again,” Dudley pleaded. “One more time.”
Charlie sighed. He looked away from Dudley and nodded. He glanced around at all the gathered people and raised a hand. “I’m going to run back to the Burrow and grab another vial of potion. Everyone stay put…”
“I’m coming with you,” Dudley told him as he grabbed his arm again. “In case you lose heart.”
Charlie chuckled and smiled softly at his friend. “You know, Dudders, if you had even a drop of magical blood in your veins, I fully do believe you would have been a Gryffindor.” And with that, they were gone with a ‘crack’ that echoed around the clearing.
…
Unbeknownst to anyone else, as the book shuddered, groaned, and shook from the potion, something did reveal itself. Just not to the Hogwarts Rescue Brigade. And not where the book was lying on the ground. Archimedes was in the sky somewhere above Ottery St Catchpole when he felt a weird wind ruffle his feathers. He wasn’t sure why, but he was filled with a sudden urge to go back home.
Once the owl was at the Burrow, he drifted through the different rooms in the house, searching for something. He wasn’t sure what. It was in Charlie’s office, almost in the exact place where he’d dropped the letter into Beauty and the Beast what felt like another lifetime ago, where he saw it. Something that didn’t belong. A hat, old and brown, was crumpled on the floor in a heap of dust and loose brown powder. Archimedes tilted his head at it, picked it up by the edge, and flew out the window.
…
“Archimedes, I thought you left?” Charlie said to his pet owl as Dudley threw up in the grass again. The Weasley was standing half on the porch and half on the ground, his right foot resting on the wooden front step that led to the Burrow. The owl lifted his head, his eyes wide, and cawed at his master. “No matter, probably a lost cause anyway. Might as well go chase some rats…” Charlie moved to go inside, but Archimedes hooted at him again and it made him pause. He held his gaze. “What? What is it?...”
“Hey, C-Charlie?” Dudley called from the yard as he pulled himself up from the grass with something in his hands. “What’s this?”
Charlie turned on his heels and all the blood in his body seemed to still. Nestled in Dudley Dursley’s muggle hands, was the sword of Godric Gryffindor. Charlie couldn’t move. Then Archimedes cawed at him and hopped up on his shoulder. The owl pecked his head and the Weasley strode forward, his eyes wide. Dudley stared at him in confusion.
“Where did this come from? How come it’s lying in the grass?... Oh, hey, look, there’s a hat too!...”
“Dudley, my arm.” Charlie extended his hand. With a groan of dismay, Dudley wrapped his fingers around Charlie’s wrist and they were all gone with a loud ‘crack’.
…
“Where did you get that?!” Demanded Augusta as Charlie came storming across the yard, the sword of Godric Gryffindor in his hands. “Charlie?!”
“It was at the Burrow,” he replied, trying to talk loudly over the sound of Dudley retching. He caught Archimedes eyes and the owl nodded to him. “I think my precious owl found the hat.”
“Wouldn’t the hat be in Hogwarts though?” asked Apolline. “D-Does that mean it worked?”
“No, not quite. I think it’s trying to help us.” Charlie stopped in an open area and threw the book on the ground. He turned toward the ring of gathered people and gave a small nod of his head. “One more time then?...” His eyes caught on Dudley Dursley’s pale face and he tilted his head. “Dudders, come here.”
“Hm?” Struggling to walk straight, Dudley beelined for his friend and stopped just short of him. He wiped the tears from his lashes and sniffled. “What’s up?”
“I think… I think you should do it.”
“Me?!”
“Dudley?!” Everyone echoed.
“But, Charlie,” Augusta said in a trembling voice. “He’s a muggle.”
“A muggle who pulled this sword out of the Sorting Hat,” Charlie said plainly as he lowered the silver weapon. He extended the handle to Dudley and his companion took it with trembling hands. “I think you’re meant to do it. Go on, Dursley. Strike hard for us. Bring them home.”
Dudley held Charlie’s amber gaze for a heartbeat. Then he glanced down at the sword in his fingers and tightened his grip on the hilt. Charlie took a step back, as did everyone else, as he raised it high above his head.
“For Harry Potter!” Dudley cried as he brought the sword down. The blade sliced through the pages like a knife through butter. Dudley froze, staring at the ground. Dark ink ran out from the bindings of the book like black blood. He glanced over at Charlie. Charlie held his breath. Seconds ticked by in silence. And then a woman’s scream filled the air, the ground trembled, and a beam of neon green light shot from the place where the book was laid upon the earth.
“Everyone run!” Charlie cried as he grabbed Dudley by the arm and pulled him away just as the place where Malfoy Manor once stood split open and a familiar castle erupted from the earth.
Chapter 23: Torn from the Book
Summary:
{Hermione and Neville}
The curse has been broken, but not all is as it seems. There are still secrets to unlock and... an entire world to return to.
Notes:
Hey all! Sorry it's been 9.2 billion years since I posted. My life has been INSANE. But don't worry- I haven't abandoned this project. How could I? We're so close to the end!
I'm sooo excited for chapter twenty-four. It's just good soup for the soul.
And of course twenty-five is the happily ever after. Teehee.
Anywayyy. Enjoy your journey to the stars!
Chapter Text
{Friday, May 31st, 2002}
The Malfoys held a great celebration at the manor and invited the entire town to come rejoice in the reunion. There was food, there was dancing, there was laughter, there was love.
In the days that followed, all of those who were afflicted by the curse began to settle into a new sense of normalcy. Molly and Ginny returned to town to bond with Arthur and the rest of their family (even Ron- who was incarcerated). Minerva and Severus went back to Hogwarts and found their quarters mostly untouched. The Tonks stayed with their family in the castle. Sirius, who was quite attached to the manor, stayed- and thus, Remus did too. Narcissa and Lucius spent nearly all their time doting on Draco- when they weren’t tangled up with one another, that is. Hermione opted to remain at the castle. It nearly broke her heart to see her father off back to the cottage she’d known her entire life. But it was time to grow up, move on, and try something a little dangerous.
The night after the curse was broken, once everyone had left or retired to their sleeping chambers, Hermione found herself wandering the halls of Malfoy Manor. She had just stepped into the library when she felt familiar predatory eyes on her. A familiar flush ran her face warm as she glanced over her shoulder only to find herself staring into easy darkness. She tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips.
“I know you’re there, Draco. You don’t have to hide from me anymore.”
“I’m not,” came his silky smooth voice from somewhere she couldn’t see. “A predator should never reveal himself to his prey.”
Chills ran up her arms as she turned on her heels, her back now to the open library. “Is that what I am to you? A meal?”
“Perhaps.”
Hermione touched her lips with her fingers and smiled. “Today was wonderful, you know. I quite enjoyed dancing with you. Your parents are incredible. They really love each other- and you…”
“They like you too,” he told her in an even voice. Hermione blinked slowly and felt static build in the silence between them.
“So, what comes next?” she asked, her heart drumming in her chest.
“What comes next?” Draco echoed, his voice steady and warm. “You’ve chosen to stay here with me and my family. I suppose that means we’re officially courting?”
Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. “I suppose it does.”
“You told me that you loved me.”
She swallowed hard and shoved her hands into the pockets of her green gingham dress. “I do.”
“But we barely know each other. You’ve only been with me as the beast…”
“None of that matters. I know you, Draco Malfoy,” she said simply. “I see you.” There was silence from the darkness and the energy cracked between them. Hermione tilted her head, desperate to see him. To find those silver eyes and gaze upon his handsome face. He remained cloaked in the shadows. “You told me that you love me. Do you?”
“Yes.” There was zero hesitation. Firm. Hot. Immediate. She bit her lip.
“So what comes next?” she repeated.
“I’d like to court you. Properly,” he said again, with more force this time.
“Alright. What does that entail for a lord such as yourself?”
“I need to ask your father for his true blessing, for one.”
Hermione’s heart was pounding. “I’m sure he’ll give it.”
“I would like… to get to know you even more. I want to know everything about you.”
She nodded. Without meaning to, she realized she was moving closer to the darkness- leaning in toward the sound of Draco’s voice. “And I would like the same.” She thought she pinpointed which shadow he was in. She held her gaze steadily at it, slid her fingers up to her shoulders, and grabbed the straps of her dress between them. “You’ve seen all of me, Draco. I’d like to see all of you.” Silence. She pulled the dress down until the top of her breasts were revealed- nearly exposing her nipples. “My prince?...”
“I’m… I’m not ready for that,” he told her gently. No, he wasn’t where she thought he was. Hermione’s eyes shifted to another patch of darkness and longed for him to be there. Stop hiding from me… “You have no clue how badly I want you, Hermione,” he told her in a voice that was dripping with so much lust it caused her entire body to tremble. “But not yet. Not tonight. Give me a few more days, love… To settle back into myself. I want to be whole when I have you for the first time.”
Hermione felt her insides ache at the thought. She nodded and didn’t move the fabric any lower- but she also didn’t cover herself again. “Take your time. I’m patient.”
“One of my lesser virtues- patience,” he told her with a small chuckle. Silence filled between them once more and she could nearly hear the smile in his voice when he spoke again. “I don’t have the mirror anymore… but may I ask you to do something for me?”
Her heart slammed against her ribcage and it made a soft, unwanted sound slip from her lips as her face filled with color. “Yes, Draco. Anything.”
“At midnight, will you touch yourself for me? Like you’ve done before?”
Hermione swallowed down the saliva that coated her tongue. “Y-Yes. Only if you’ll do the same for me.” Silence. Then she heard the faintest sound, an odd noise that was nearly a purr.
“Your wish is my command. Think of me at midnight, love. And I’ll see you in the morning.”
…
{Saturday, June 1st, 2002}
The following day, Hermione had breakfast with the Malfoys. Kreacher- whom she was shocked to find out had been none other than the incredible cooking stove, Cuisinier- made an incredible spread for them. She indulged herself until she nearly couldn’t stand to take another bite. The entire time, she watched the family interact with amusement and great interest. Lucius and Narcissa both ate like they were absolutely starving, but Draco struggled to hold a fork like a human being. More than once, she caught him swallowing pieces of food that were much too big for a human throat- but it didn’t seem to deter him. She made a mental note to talk to him about it later. I’d hate for him to choke.
After breakfast, she visited Sirius and Remus to get herself better acquainted with her dear friend’s lover while the Malfoys spent more time catching up. She quickly found out that Sirius was Remus’ opposite in every way. He was brash, loud, and chaotic- but something about his genuine energy soothed her and she was simply obsessed with the adoring way that Remus stared at him. They separated after a discussion of how many incredible books were in the library and the couple took off to entertain Remus’ curiosity.
For lunch, she sat in the garden with Draco and enjoyed yet another splendid meal. She did, however, catch him trying to scarf down his food and corrected the behavior by reminding him that he was no longer a serpent. Draco was quite tired after their meal (and eating etiquette lesson), so he retired to his quarters to rest. Hermione wandered through the grounds and eventually stumbled across the family of Nymphadora, Ted, and Andromeda Tonks. She chatted with them for a while before heading back to her room for a nap herself.
After a glorious dinner- and another promised midnight pleasure session in sync with Draco-Hermione woke from a deep sleep. Despite being truly and properly exhausted, she found herself restless. She tossed and turned in the bed until her practical thoughts forced her to think of certain things she was trying desperately to avoid. Everything is wonderful- truly. This is the life I’ve always dreamed of. Draco- her prince- was happy (mostly) and safe. Their chemistry was electric. His parents approved of her. The castle, and its grounds, were incredibly delightful. Her father was fine, Remus was safe (and near), and all seemed to be well. Well… Well…
However…
Something still wasn’t right. And she knew she couldn’t ignore it forever. Things were different. Things were better. Time now passed in a proper fashion and moments didn’t seem to repeat anymore. Nothing felt routine. No one felt stuck. And yet, every time she looked at Draco, or the manor, or the lord and lady of it, something… makes me uneasy. And that was why, on June 4th, the day before Draco Malfoy’s twenty-first birthday, Hermione collected herself shortly after breakfast, kissed her darling farewell, and headed into town to speak to Luna Lovegood.
…
{Tuesday, June 4th, 2002}
She found the airy girl inside the Three Broomsticks, chatting eagerly to Harry Potter over a cup of Butterbeer. He was staring over his glasses at her, but his eyes kept drifting toward a table in the back that held a family of laughing redheads. As Hermione approached, Luna stopped talking and smiled softly at her newfound friend.
“Are you looking at Ginny Weasley?” she asked pointedly and Harry nearly choked on his Butterbeer.
“Ah, no, I was… uhm…”
“She is quite pretty. In the real world, you two are an item, you know. You split up for some time while you were off on the Horcrux hunt, but you got back together after the Second Wizarding War.”
All of those words struck unwelcome feelings inside Hermione. It made her head throb, her heart ache, and she felt an intense sense of dread seep into her bones. She approached the small table cautiously, trying to steady her breath even as her chest was starting to heave. “Hello Luna, Harry,” she greeted in a soft voice. “May I sit with you?”
“Well of course!” Luna beamed as she patted the empty chair next to her. “Come on over.”
“How’s life at the manor?” Harry asked as he pointedly focused on his drink and not the cute redhead in the corner who was laughing herself silly over something Fred said. “Is everything going well?”
“It’s wonderful, truly,” Hermione replied honestly with a soft smile. “Draco is kind and gentlemanly. He is still coming into himself and is spending a lot of time bonding with his parents. I haven’t seen him much the last few days, but the moments we are granted are… incredible.” Her eyes glowed. “He’s a darling man, honestly. He’s still unsure of his body, I think, but he’s slowly learning how to be a person again. And the Malfoys are beyond welcoming. I’ve had the best meals and my bedding is always clean and comfortable. Oh, and it’s so nice to have Remus around. He and Sirius are quite the couple- they’re so funny together, I sometimes laugh until my sides hurt when I spend time around them.” She shook her head. “It really is all I could have wanted…”
Luna was watching her with those odd, dreamy eyes. She smiled. “But it isn’t real. Not yet. Not really. We’re still not out of the curse.”
The hair along Hermione’s nape prickled and the corner of her mouth twitched. “That’s… what I wanted to come see you about today, Luna. If the curse is broken and everyone is freed, how is it that nobody fully remembers who they are? How are you the only person who seems to understand what is going on?”
Luna shrugged her shoulders. “I have no idea how this kind of magic works, Hermione. I just know that it isn’t right. And I’m also not sure why I’m the only one the spell doesn’t seem to affect. Maybe it’s because I’m rather odd? I’ve always been sensitive to things that others aren’t. I’ve always known things, seen things…” She blinked slowly. “Perhaps that is why? I can’t be sure. But I do know one thing- we are not yet where we’re meant to be. I’m don’t know how we are going to get back home, but at some point, the fairytale must be brought to an end.”
Harry and Hermione stared at each other for a long time before either of them spoke. Harry cleared his throat. “This other world, Luna…” She nodded. “Can you tell us more about it?”
“Oh, yes!” she beamed. “We were all friends. You, me, Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Hermione- of course. We fought many battles together. You even saved me when I was being held prisoner in the Malfoy’s dungeon.”
That struck Hermione to the core. A cold chill ran down her spine as she glanced at Luna warily. “Why were you being held prisoner there?...”
“Because Voldemort was trying to blackmail my father. And he knew I was friends with Harry Potter. Dean Thomas was there too- and Mister Ollivander.”
Hermione blinked. “Ollivander the wand maker?”
“The very same!” Luna said cheerily. “He was being held captive because of his great knowledge of wands and wand lore. Voldemort wanted the Elder Wand, you see…”
“Luna, none of that makes any sense to us,” Harry interjected gently. “I’m sorry. I know you really want us to understand- and we’re trying. But we just don’t remember any of the things you’re telling us about.”
Luna sighed in frustration then rolled her eyes. “I know you don’t. It’s why I’m trying to remind you…” she paused, pupils widening. Silence threaded through the Three Broomsticks as everyone looked around at one another.
Hermione felt the crackle in the air a moment before a sound like booming thunder split the atmosphere. Hermione gritted her teeth and slammed her hands over her ears to protect them from the blast as it echoed again. Harry leaned over and tried to scream something to Luna, but she couldn’t hear him. The tavern shook and Hermione closed her eyes as she tucked her head down. What is happening?! What’s happening?
Then as quickly as it started- it stopped.
Hermione raised her head and looked around. She caught the eyes of Molly Weasley, then Ginny. Instinctively, she found herself wandering over to them on jelly-like legs. Ginny stood and clasped her fingers around Hermione’s arms- her brown eyes wide and pupils blown as everyone inside the Three Broomsticks began to get to their feet and converse with one another in plain confusion.
“What was that, Hermione?” Ginny asked and the witch shook her head.
“I have no idea, Gin. Not the slightest clue. Are… are you okay?”
Ginny nodded as she released her friend’s hands and rubbed her own arms- the pale hairs on her skin standing on end. “I’m alright. I just feel weird now. Like something isn’t quite right…”
Hermione nodded. And then, a thought dawned on her and she withdrew her hands. “I have to get back to the castle! I have to check on the Malfoys and the others.”
“I’ll come with you!”
“No, you most certainly will not!” Arthur argued immediately when Ginny moved to go with Hermione toward the door. “Young lady, I just got you back…”
“Hermione is my friend, Papa,” the feisty girl shot back with a raise of her eyebrows. “I can’t let her go alone. And the castle was my home for years. I worry about the Malfoys and anyone who is still there.”
“We’ll come with you,” Luna added on and Harry scrambled over to be at her side. He was trying very hard- and failing- not to look at Ginny.
“Yeah, we’ll come along.”
Arthur and Molly seemed dismayed, but knew the argument was lost. Ginny doubled back, hugged her parents, then turned on her feet and followed after Harry, Luna, and Hermione as they hurried out the door. Anyone who wasn’t inside The Three Broomsticks was standing in the street- staring up at the darkening sky with worry in their eyes. Hermione tried to pay their fear no mind as they headed quickly toward the entrance of Hogsmeade.
They were nearly to the castle when the entire forest started to sway as if caught in the early tendrils of a storm. The gusts of wind were so intense that the four of them were holding hands and trudging through the woods like they were braced against an invisible foe. Hermione had to keep stopping to plant her feet just to avoid bowling over.
“Where in the hell did this storm come from?!” Harry cried over the screaming gusts of wind. “What is going on?!”
“I have a hunch- but none of you will believe me!” Luna called back as they broke clean of the trees and could finally see the hedges of Malfoy Manor.
“Weren’t these woods crawling with Acromantulas before?” Ginny asked suddenly as she ducked, having to release both Luna and Hermione’s hands to avoid being slapped in the face with a falling branch. “Where did they all go?”
“Cleared out with the curse, I think!” Hermione screamed back over her shoulder. She could make out a light in the distance by the castle door. Draco was fighting against the wind toward her, waving his glowing wand to guide her home.
“Hermione!” he called. “Hurry, you need to get inside!”
“I’m trying!” Grabbing hold of Ginny’s hand again, the witch began hauling herself through the aggressive wind toward him. They’d just cleared the topiary garden when a flash of purple lightning struck. It bolted downward from the sky and cracked against the ground between Draco and Hermione. It seared the stone pathway and scarred the earth black. The screeching wind increased and the gusts were so strong that it bowled Hermione backward into Ginny, Ginny into Luna, and Luna into Harry. They all tumbled to the ground in a heap as Draco was levelled into the rose bushes.
“Draco, come back!” Lucius screamed from the doorway where he was holding onto the knocker with one hand. He tried to step out of the castle toward his son, but every time he’d move to leave, a gust of wind would nearly knock him backward into Narcissa- who was waiting just inside with tears in her eyes and her hands over her mouth. “Draco, it isn’t safe!”
“I have to get Hermione and the others!” he called back as he unearthed from the bushes, covered in leaves and thorns. He was on his hands and knees, trying desperately to crawl forward toward Hermione and her friends. Another roll of thunder boomed from the sky and it made the manor grounds rumble with so much force it was nearly deafening. Hermione reached for Draco. Draco reached for Hermione. They were less than ten feet apart when the sky itself seemed to split open above them. The earth shook. Draco threw himself forward only to be knocked back when the ground broke and the world started tilting.
“Draco!” Narcissa screamed. Ginny dug her fingernails into Hermione’s wrist as the very fabric of reality itself began to crumble down around them.
…
“What’s happening? What’s happening!” Ron’s panicked voice brought tears to Neville’s eyes. The Gryffindor curled against the iron bars of the cell and reached in toward Ron. Ron grabbed his hand and held it desperately tight as the storm raged on outside. Blue eyes seared into hazel depths as Ron drew himself as close to his only friend as he could. “Neville, you don’t have to stay here…”
“I’m not leaving you,” he bit back ferociously as Peter Pettigrew and Argus Filch- who were in the cell beside Ron- screamed when lightning cracked just outside the asylum. “You’re my friend, Ronald. The only friend I have. The only family I have. I’m not leaving you. Not now. Not ever.”
Something odd sparked in Ron’s gaze just then. Something like recognition. Or understanding. Or… realization. He tilted his head and glanced down to where Neville was clinging to the hold on his hand. He lifted his gaze back up and Neville’s breath caught in his throat. Ron’s never looked at me like that before…
“I’m sorry I always treated you so unfairly,” Ron whispered and Neville had to lean in so his ear was right up against the iron to hear him. The wind was absolutely screaming outside and the thunder was now so intense that it was nearly deafening. “I was so wrapped up in Hermione, I never truly appreciated how loyal you were to me…”
“Don’t speak in absolutes,” Neville told him over the building chaos. “Appreciate it later. When this is all over.”
“What is it? This storm?” Ron asked and Neville shook his head.
“I don’t know…”
Just then, there was a horrible sound. Creaking. Groaning. Snapping. Neville’s eyes stretched wide in fear and Ron glanced over his shoulder in absolute terror when a crack started from the left corner of his cell and spread down the stone across the floor. A seemingly endless darkness sept in from the fractures and Ron turned toward Neville as tears glossed his eyes.
“Neville!”
“I’m right here. I’m right here. I’ve got you. Lean against the bars. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Ron pressed tightly against the iron, coiling his arms through them to hold on to Neville. Neville reached in and locked his arms around Ron, pushing himself so tightly against the bars that it hurt. Ron leaned his head forward and brushed the side of his face on Neville’s chest. The cracks deepened and some of the floor fell into the abyss.
“Don’t let go of me!”
“I won’t!” Neville promised. The floor kept crumbling. Neville dug his nails in. “I won’t, Ron. I’ve got you.”
Everything fell away. The world itself shattered.
A woman’s shrill cry echoed again. And then there was nothing. Silence and sound and nothing.
And Charlie Weasley screaming, “Everyone run!”
Chapter 24: Blood and Salt Water
Summary:
{Charlie and Hermione}
The Hogwarts Rescue Brigade reunites with their long lost loved ones.
Draco Malfoy makes a stand... and a confession.
Notes:
I. AM. BACK. 🩷
Heyyy starlets.
I have a couple of surprises on the way. I'm hoping to be all done with this by the end of the week so I can focus on my next Wolfstar project (yay!).
Anyway. Hope you like it. Drink some water and have a good day. (:
Chapter Text
For a moment, nobody dared to move.
Charlie drew in a deep breath, licked his lips, and tasted salt on his tongue. He realized he’d been breathing heavily with his mouth open since the moment the ground split. The rumbling of the earth had finally stopped and now only the sound of the brigade’s shaky breathing echoed across the once-empty clearing. Dudley shifted beside Charlie and brushed his arm with his fingers as he turned his head shakily toward the castle behind them- his pupils blown wide in shock.
“What is it?” Charlie asked, his heart thundering in his chest from fear that whatever it was Dudley was staring at wouldn’t be what they were looking for. That somehow, someway, in the seconds that had ticked steadily by in wait… the castle would be gone. And all their hope with it. But then Dudley’s lip trembled and a line of sweat ran from his temple down his jaw and dripped into the soured earth. “Dudders? What do you see?”
“A castle,” Dudley replied in a shaky voice. “With great black spires and an ‘M’ branded on the gate…”
Charlie heard enough. He unfurled from the stiff position he’d been laying in and whipped around to his feet. The other members of the brigade were shifting too- standing, staring, whispering. Charlie’s left hand twitched as he reached over and tapped Viktor’s shoulder. The former Triwizard Champion looked at him with wide, incredulous eyes.
“Send some patrols to Hogsmeade and Hogwarts. See if the manor is the only thing restored,” he murmured and Viktor nodded. He took off to the left of the castle to recruit others for Charlie’s command as the Gryffindor turned his head once more toward what was unfolding in front of him. Carefully, Charlie took a step forward with Augusta to his left and Dudley to his right. Together, the three of them walked onto a cracked stone pathway that led to the castle. With his pulse hammering in his chest, Charlie reached out silently to push the gate open. It parted under the pressure of his hand and he swallowed hard as he crossed the threshold into the yard.
On either side of the walkway were identical rows of balding hedges, and in the yard were grand topiaries and overgrown gardens of flowers and plants. Charlie noticed a flicker of movement in the rows of roses and it made him pause in his tracks.
“Hello?” he called and he shivered as his voice echoed around the open grounds of the manor. The roses shifted again and this time, Dudley noticed the movement too.
“What’s over there?” he asked, instinctively shifting behind Charlie out of habit. Augusta's pupils narrowed as she pulled her wand from inside her robe and flicked it in a keyhole-shaped motion toward the rows of flowers.
“Homenum revelio,” she said in a stern voice and then her grip on her wand tightened. “There’s definitely someone over there…”
Charlie couldn’t wait anymore. He slid off the marked path, picked his way through the shambled hedges, and found himself knee-deep in unruly vegetation. He took one step toward where he saw the flowers move. Then another. And then… Charlie froze. All of the color drained from his face and his knees nearly buckled. Lying on their backs in a trampled bed of roses were four people he instantly recognized. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, and…
“Ginny!” Charlie screamed as he dropped to his knees. Tears instantly rolled down his cheeks as he picked up the still form of his baby sister and held her tightly against his chest. God, she’s just like ice… Fear prickled up his spine as Charlie took Ginny’s hands between his own and began to rub them together in an attempt to warm her. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes wide in disbelief. “Augusta, find Xenophilius! Luna is here! A-And Harry, and Hermione…”
“Neville?” Augusta asked hopefully and Charlie steeled his jaw. He gave a single shake of his head. The older witch’s eyes darkened, but she only nodded and turned away to find Luna’s father. As soon as the name ‘Harry’ fell from Charlie’s lips, Dudley came sprinting ungracefully though the brush to make his way over to his cousin. He slid in beside Charlie and began mirroring the movement of warming Harry’s hands in his own.
“Fuck sake, Charlie, he’s freezing. He isn’t breathing. Is… is he?...”
“No, I don’t think so,” Charlie replied desperately, more tears scoring lines down his face as he closed his eyes and began to pray to anything that would listen to him. Godric or Merlin, God, The Universe. Anything. Please, Ginny… please wake up…
Suddenly there was a loud gasp from the two unattended girls. Hermione bolted upward and drew in a long, deep breath. Her eyes flew open just as color returned to her face. Her ashen lips turned a light shade of pink as the dull haze that glosses her eyes melted into something warm, alert, and terrified. She looked around, her mouth agape as tears welled on her lashes. She saw Ginny still in Charlie’s arms and she instantly bridged the distance between them. She curled her fingers around his forearm and stifled a sob.
“Ginny! W-What happened to her? What’s going on? Who are…” Hermione seemed to really see Charlie for the first time. Their eyes met and she froze- nearly as still as Ginny was.
A sharp, splitting pain bloomed from both her temples, rocked through her skull, and raced down her spine until her entire body throbbed. Hermione screamed just as Harry lurched forward in Dudley’s arms, coughing and twitching in discomfort. The muggle-born witch grasped her hair tightly and pulled on the untamed strands as the pain threatened to split her very skeletal system in two.
An entire lifetime of memories flooded back into her.
Her parents- lost in Australia where they were tucked away safe and sound.
The Forest Dean....
Getting her Hogwarts letter. Meeting Ron and Harry on the train. Being sorted into Gryffindor. The troll. The Sorcerer’s Stone. The basilisk. That ugly yellow eye in her mirror. Being unpetrified. Ron. Harry. Ron. McGonagall giving her the Time Turner. Buckbeak. Hagrid. Oh, Hagrid… Sirius Black. Remus Lupin. The Triwizard Cup. The Death Eaters. Cedric Diggory was killed. The Order of the Phoenix. Ron. Harry. Ron. Dolores Umbridge. Dumbledore’s Army. Lavender Brown. Fuck Lavender Brown… Slughorn. The Half-Blood Prince. Snape! Dumbledore died. Ron. Harry. Ron. The Horcrux hunt. All the dangers they put themselves in. The dragon in Gringotts. The Forest Dean. Ron left them. Ron left me. The Deathly Hallows. Ron came back. The war. Then… then… then?...
Draco.
Hermione remembered now. She remembered everything.
Draco calling her a mudblood. Draco making fun of her buckteeth. Draco being cruel to Ron and Harry. Draco being cruel to her. Draco being the cause of Buckbeak being sentenced to death. Him dancing with Pansy Parkinson at the Yule Ball. Him banding up with Filch and Umbridge to torment the other students. Him mending the Vanishing Cabinet. Him nearly being burned alive in the Room of Requirement. Him standing with Voldemort…
The prince took Hagrid prisoner. The prince gave her a lavish room instead of a dungeon to sleep in. The prince screamed at her to either dine with him or starve. The prince saved her life. The prince brushed her hair. He shared his meals with her. He gave her his family’s library. He watched her touch herself through the mirror. He danced with her. Laid beside her. Slept with her. Let her go. Set her free. Gave his life for her. Kissed her. Held her. Loved her.
Draco was the prince.
The prince was Draco.
They were one in the same.
Haven’t they always been?...
A searing pain spread in her skull again and Hermione let the darkness take her.
***
By the time Hermione’s senses came back to her, Xenophilius was in tatters beside Dudley and Charlie with a very pleased looking Luna in his arms. He was wiping her tears away and brushing her ratty white hair back out of her face, kissing the crown of her head over and over again. Harry was awkwardly hugging his cousin, patting his back in gentle, uncomfortable movements as Dudley sobbed against his shoulder. Ginny was smiling and talking energetically to Charlie as tears streamed down both their flushed faces.
“… So we left Mum, Dad, and the rest of the family in Hogsmeade to come back to Malfoy Manor. The storm really picked up then and we were tossed into the garden. Charlie, it was insane. It was like the entire world just fell apart all around us. I don’t know what happened then. But then I opened my eyes and you were here…” Ginny told her brother with a choked voice. “Everyone’s alright. We’ll all be back together soon…”
“Gran!”
Augusta, who was tending to a very disoriented looking Tonks, lifted her head. Her pupils blew when Neville Longbottom, who had just Apparated in with Viktor Krum, came racing toward her full sprint. He barreled into her arms and she hugged him so tightly that she appeared to be choking the breath from his lungs. She buried her face into his shaggy blond hair, drew in a deep breath, and began to weep.
The next few minutes were madness. Hermione watched with tears in her eyes as families reunited. An entire sea of redheads swarmed forward to greet Charlie and Ginny- bowling the pair over in a wave of freckles, laughter, and crying. Harry politely waited his turn to take Ginny in his arms, laugh, kiss her, and swing her around and around until they were both giggling from being dizzy. She was just about to join them in celebration when an excited cry from the castle made her turn her head. Draco?...
Disappointed drummed through her when she saw Remus and Sirius, side by side and hand in hand, come racing from the manor. Harry barely had a second to prepare before he was knocked flat on his back from the force of their embrace. Sirius pulled him to his chest and hugged him until the bones in his neck popped. Remus sandwiched him from behind and the two embraced him tightly until Harry pleaded for relief.
“Guys… need… oxygen…”
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Remus whispered as he tucked a strand of Harry’s wily hair back out his face. “Godric’s glory, Harry, I can’t believe you threw me into an asylum!”
“I was bewitched!” Harry snapped, but his face was flushing bright red anyway. “Sorry about it anyhow, Moony…”
“Not celebratin’ without me, are ya?”
The familiar voice brought tears to Hermione’s eyes. She jumped to her feet as fresh tears formed into drops on her eyelashes. She sprinted through the crowds of people and flung herself into Hagrid’s arms. He caught her gratefully and smiled from ear to ear, gently lifting her up to kiss the top of her head as Hermione sobbed against his chest.
“Oh, Hagrid!” she cried. “I’m so happy to see you…”
“For what it’s worth, ‘Ermione…” Hagrid told her softly as he sat the witch back down on her feet. She stared up at him with wide, watery chocolate eyes. She cussed at herself under her breath and wiped the beads of tears from her lashes. “If I were your father, ‘Ermione, I’d be damned proud of ya. That’s what I say…” He looked a bit bashful. “I’m sad that part is over. It was somethin' I cherished…”
“It doesn’t have to be over, Hagrid. Not really,” she told him gently as she wrapped her fingers around the massive thumb on his left hand. “We can still be a family, huh? It doesn’t have to change. You, me, Crookshanks…”
“Hermione?”
For whatever reason, the familiar voice made her freeze. Heat filled the witch’s face as she turned slowly on her heels and found herself gazing at the ring of redheads again. Only this time, they’d gained one more. Ronald Weasley looked at her down his long nose with regret absolutely storming in his beautiful blue eyes. He was wedged tightly between his mother, father, and the twins. He wouldn’t look at her directly, but kept flickering his gaze up before looking back down at his feet again. Hermione swallowed hard and took a calculative step forward.
“Ronald…”
“Hermione, I am so… so… so fucking sorry. I-I don’t know who I was there! I didn’t mean any of it. Not any of it, do you understand? I’m not… I’m not a monster…”
“Ron, I know that!” Panic flared in Hermione’s heart as she peeled herself entirely out of Hagrid’s grasp and hurried over to him. She took Ron’s hands in her own and he shakily lifted his gaze to meet her eyes. He glanced beyond her, to Hagrid, and tears formed on his lashes.
“I locked him up. Him and Remus. And Harry! My best friend…”
“It was the curse, Ron,” Charlie told his brother in a soothing voice as he bridged the space between them. He gave Ron a little shake. “It wasn’t you. It was just the way Gaston’s character was written and how you were forced into that role. We know you’re not a bad man. You’re a very good man, little brother. You helped Harry Potter save the world, after all.”
“I… I suppose so…” Ron sounded very small, very hurt, and very unsure. He held Hermione’s gaze as he gently tugged his hand out of her own and brushed his thumb across her cheek. “But not all of what happened inside the book was just a turn of the cards, was it?” Her pulse began to quicken as his eyes trailed to her lips. “Draco. Do you care for him? In this world? With this heart?”
Hermione leaned her head into his palm, tears welling in her eyes. “I… I do. I… Ron, I love him. Or, at least… I think I’m starting to. He’s so different than we he was when we were younger…”
“Do you know if that’s really how he is? Or was it all just the plot of the book?” Ron asked without any heat or malice in his tone. He glanced over at Charlie and his brother stepped away, rejoining the rest of their family to give them space to talk. “Do you think all of that can exist here? In the real world?”
Hermione felt pesky tears welling in her eyes again and she stubbornly brushed them away. “I think it would take a lot of work. But I feel like we could do it. If he wants to, of course.. ” Ron bit his lip thoughtfully and Hermione shuttered at the heartbroken expression that briefly crossed his face. “Ron, I’m sorry. I didn’t know this would happen. I-I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I don’t want to hurt you either, Hermione,” he told her in an honest, gentle voice. She saw his gaze flicker again toward someone behind her and then, much to her surprise, Hermione saw color fill Ron’s face. He swallowed hard then glanced down at her again. “But if you want to try to make things work with Malfoy, then… I won’t stop you. You mean too much to me. Our friendship is too important. I can let you go.”
All of the tension in Hermione’s shoulders dropped. More tears spilled down her face as she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. The familiar smell of spearmint toothpaste and something warm and comforting wafted into her nose. For just a moment, Hermione let herself get lost in it. Then, she exhaled all the air in her lungs and leaned back on her heels. She met Ron’s worried blue eyes and nodded. Very gently, she pressed her lips to his own- for just a heartbeat.
“One for old time’s sake then,” she whispered and he nodded. Her hands dropped from around his neck, but Ron didn’t quite move. He glanced beyond Hermione again then sought her chocolate hues once more.
“Hermione… we are still friends, right?”
“Of course, Ronald. What a stupid thing to say. We’ll always be friends. Why do you ask?”
“Will you support me in something?... Even if it… is a little… strange? Even if it’s something I don’t quite understand myself?...”
Hermione tilted her head at him and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth with a small smile. “Our lives have been filled with all matters of strange things since we rode the Hogwarts Express with Harry James Potter.”
“Hey! I can still hear you!” Harry called from a few paces away where he was talking eagerly with Ginny, Remus, and Sirius. Hermione rolled her eyes at him, but smiled a bit at the familiar mirth in his voice.
“Anyway, yes, Ronald. I’ll support you in whatever it is you’re thinking of. What…”
She didn’t get to finish. Ron took a deep breath and strode away from her, through the crowd of reuniting people, and stopped only a heartbeat away from where Neville Longbottom was talking energetically to Augusta. He was gesturing with his hands as he told her about something that had happened during their time away and he was so animated with his movements that he nearly popped Ron in the face. The blushing redhead managed to duck out of the way and avoid the swipe just as Augusta motioned for Neville to pause the story.
“Hello, Ronald! How are you feeling?” she asked as Hermione tiptoed closer to hear whatever it was the conversation was going to hold.
“I’m alright,” Ron replied awkwardly as he rubbed his shoulder in a sheepish manner. Neville was staring at him like he’d grown an extra head as all the color drained from his face. “I’m sure you’re happy to have your grandson back.”
“More than you know,” Augusta replied as she shifted her sharp, bird-like gaze from Neville to Ron then back again. She glanced beyond them and found Hermione’s eyes. The Gryffindor smiled slightly and gave the smallest nod of her head. A silent thought seemed to pass between the two witches as Ron and Neville continued to stare at each other in a nearly painful silence. Then Augusta lifted her cane and promptly wacked Neville in the back of his right calf. The surprise blow caused his leg to buckle and he involuntarily started to tilt forward. Ron instantly reached out and caught him to keep the young man from spilling onto the concrete.
As soon as contact was made, Hermione watched the energy between the two of them shift. All the color returned to Neville’s face and flushed his cheeks a bright cherry red. Ron’s ashen lips trembled as he stared down at his dear friend.
“Ron, I w-wanted to apologize,” Neville said quickly as he corrected himself so that he was no longer leaning against the Weasley’s chest. “How I acted when we were bewitched… I… that wasn’t me, y’know? I’m not some mindless lacky.”
“I know that,” Ron returned in a shaky voice. “And I’m not a werewolf-hating, murderous, misogynistic monster.”
“I know that too!” Neville replied immediately. He ran a hand nervously through his hair. “A-And I’m sorry for… uhm…” He swallowed hard. “The other stuff too.”
Ron’s brow furrowed. He glanced over his shoulder at Hermione and made a face as if asking her what he should do. She just smiled at him, shook her head once, then gave him a thumbs-up. Ron turned back to him and carefully reached out a hand and brushed his thumb over Neville’s knuckles. Neville’s pupils blew until his irises were just thin rings of dark hazel around pools of black.
“I was actuallg hoping you wouldn’t be sorry about that. The other stuff.”
“I… I… I-I…”
“Honestly, Neville!” Augusta huffed, sounding absolutely exasperated. “You can chop the head off a bloody great snake and stand up to Voldemort, but you can’t admit you have feelings for this man?”
Neville’s jaw dropped and Hermione covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her own laughter as Augusta’s grandson turned to face her with a stricken look on his face. “Gran…”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes?”
“You’d… you’d be okay with… I mean… I mean, y-you support?...”
The right corner of Augusta’s mouth lifted in the brief twitch of a smile. “I support whatever makes you happy, Neville. You’re my only grandson, after all. And a war hero. You’ve been through hell in your short life. I just want to see you satisfied.” She tilted her head toward Ron. “If that’s what does it- who am I to speak against it?”
Neville turned back to Ron, his eyes bright. He seemed like he wanted to say something to him, but Ron didn’t give him a chance. The youngest of the Weasley boys lifted his shaky hands to Neville’s face, took his chin in his palms, drew him in, and kissed him. Again Neville’s knees buckled, but this time when Ron caught him in his arms, he didn’t try to pull away. Hermione was just about to dog whistle at them when there came a horrible ruckus from the castle. All of the blood in her veins suddenly froze when she heard two very distinct voices raised at one another as the doors to Malfoy Manor flew open.
“… Draco, will you please hold on for just one moment?!” Lucius was saying in a shaky but stern voice as his only son came bursting out of the mansion and onto the disturbed front grounds. Draco looked a mess. His hair was ruffled and spiked in all directions, his eyes were bloodshot, and his clothes were torn. His face was flushed and it was all too apparent that he’d been both recently crying and screaming for quite some time. His gray eyes scanned the crowds of people on the front lawn and snapped to Hermione immediately. All of the ice in her blood instantly turned to fire as those predatory hues locked on her.
She took a step toward him without meaning to as he began to make his way over to her with his father hot on his heels. Lucius reached out and closed his trembling fingers around Draco’s wrist, yanking him backward and stopping his advance mid-stride. Draco groaned and ripped his arm away as he cast an infuriated glance over his shoulder at his father just as Narcissa came running from the manor with Andromeda following right behind her.
“Father, I’ve already told you!” he yelled in a voice so acidic it made Hermione wonder if some of the snake’s venom was still settled in his blood. Lucius flinched but didn’t look away as Draco continued. “I’ve made up my mind and there’s nothing you can do to change it.”
“But son, please. You’re the heir to the Malfoy line and she’s a mud…”
“Don’t you dare call her that word!” Draco snarled and Lucius actually took a step back away from him this time. For a few moments the two just stared at each other- neither willing to back down from the position they held.
Hermione’s heart hammered in her chest. She glanced over at Ron, who was now holding hands with Neville and watching silently from Augusta’s side. He flicked his gaze to her and gave her a small nod. She found Harry’s green eyes and he did the same. Finally, she sought Ginny. Her best friend smiled at her and gave her a thumbs-up with both her hands. Hermione drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes.
Alright, Granger… Time to be brave.
She opened her eyes and took a step forward. Then another and another until she was finally at Draco’s side. Carefully, almost tentatively, she slid her fingers into his own and met Lucius’ eyes as Narcissa came to her husband’s left and twined her hands around his forearm. The witches held each other’s gazes for a heartbeat as Hermione exhaled all the air in her lungs. She gave a small nod of her head.
“Mister Malfoy… do you remember everything that happened while we were under the curse?”
Lucius tried to pretend like he didn’t hear her at first. But then Draco made a sound in the back of his throat that was nearly a growl and his father sighed in discontent. Lucius finally turned to Hermione, those pale eyes harsh… but much to her surprise, she found them not entirely unkind. There’s a hidden warmth there… Perhaps a lingering touch of Lumiere… “Monsieur Malfoy, do you?” She asked again and this time she saw some of the anger on his face flicker. He flexed his jaw.
“Yes. I do,” he said at last. “Everything. All three years.”
“You were kind to me as a candelabra,” she murmured softly, aware that all eyes were now on the four of them. “You welcomed me, sang to me, and fed me. You… you showed concern for the scar on my arm. You hated what it said. You didn’t care that I was a muggle-born then. What has changed?”
Lucius’ nostrils flared. “That was a different world, Miss Granger. Things there are not as they are here.”
“Why aren’t they?” Draco challenged. “She saved us! All of us. She saved my life; she broke the curse.”
“Dearest, please,” Narcissa whispered. Lucius glanced over his shoulder at his wife then back at his son. Draco set his jaw.
“If Hermione Granger will have me, I would take her as my own,” Draco said in a steady voice that made Hermione shiver involuntarily. “I would care for her as you care for mother. I would dance with her. I would protect her. Cherish her. Adore her.”
Lucius’ right eyebrow twitched. “The Malfoy line would be tainted.”
“The Malfoy line is tainted!” Draco nearly screamed in exasperation. He pulled his hand away from Hermione and pushed up the sleeve of his gray dress shirt. The Dark Mark on his left forearm glinted angry and vibrant in the bright sunlight. Draco held his father’s gaze as Hermione shakily extended her arm out next to his own, the word ‘mudblood’ red and shining. “I’ve made my fair share of bad choices. As have you, father. I have been cold, cruel, calloused, and cowardly. I harmed when I could have helped. I took this mark and now have to deal with it the rest of my life…” Draco gently touched Hermione’s wrist. “If the price of pureblood is a scarred mark on the existence of muggle-borns… then it’s too much to pay. Scrub me from the bloodline if you wish. But I will not stand a Malfoy if it means my heels are planted on anyone else’s misery.”
Lucius drew in a hard breath. He opened his mouth to speak, but Draco cut him off again. And what he said shocked Hermione to her core.
“I have always had feelings for Hermione Granger, father. From the moment I first saw her all those years ago.” He didn’t look at her, even as she stared at him with wide eyes and parted lips. “I admired her mind. I adored her courage. I envied her friendships that were forged in loyalty and not the blood basis of a sir name. But you, mother, and Aunt Bella taught me that how I felt for her was wrong. Dirty. Filthy.” Draco spat at his father’s feet. “So I pushed it away. I spoke to her in anger. I spoke violently and cruelly. I talked to her as you talked of others like her. I ran from my feelings because a pureblood does not associate with a muggleborn. With a... mudblood.” He flinched as the word left his lips. “But then one day… in my sixth year, Professor Slughorn taught us to brew Amortentia. And when I inhaled the elixir, I smelled crisp parchment, sweet perfume, and the faintest traces of pear tarts…”
Hermione had tears in her eyes. She shakily slid her fingers back into his own. Behind Draco, another person approached. It was the last bit of aid she would have ever expected.
“He went on about it for weeks after that,” Theo Nott told Lucius with a small smile lifting the corners of his lips. “About the parchment. The perfume. The pear tarts. He kept telling Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, and I about it. He was upset and confused because Pansy… Pansy related to none of those things. It wasn’t her.”
“I hate pears!” Pansy called from where she was standing with her parents- who looked disgusted by the debate happening in front of them. Hermione found her gaze and the former bunny plush toy just gave her a curt, slight nod.
“Blood is just blood,” Theo said with a soft sigh. “It can’t be pure. Or half. Or muggle-born. It just exists and… is. Enough blood has been shed, spilled, and lost. Mister Malfoy, if I may…” He glanced at Hermione thoughtfully. “The war is won. Voldemort is gone- and has been for a few years now. Let all that he stood for die as well. No good can come from it.”
“Lucius.” Hermione saw the Slytherin’s body tense. Andromeda came up carefully beside her brother-in-law. She glanced from her nephew to her sister then to Lucius again. She gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “Aren’t you tried of it all, Lucius?... Look at your son. Look at him.” Lucius did. His haunting gray eyes met Draco’s own and Hermione watched their convergence like the sea storming upon the shore. Like saltwater meeting fresh but never mixing. Her grip on Draco’s hand tightened. “Let him be happy. Let him be loved. Let it go, Lucius. Let it go.”
For a long time, nobody spoke. Silence snaked its way through the grounds like a fresh veil of snow. Then Narcissa lifted on the tips of her toes and pressed her lips against her husband’s cheek. Hermione watched the ice thaw from Lucius’ face as he flickered his eyelids shut. A heartbeat later, he opened them again and tilted his head.
“Draco,” he said in an even voice and Hermione felt the former prince go rigid in her grasp.
“Father.”
“Does… Miss Granger make you happy?” he asked in a voice that sounded as fragile as the silver rose had been under the cloche.
“More than anything ever has,” Draco replied firmly and without a single bit of doubt. It made Hermione’s heart race.
“Then…” Lucius gave a single, slight nod of his head. He looked from Andromeda to Narcissa, to Theo, to Draco, then finally to Hermione herself. He extended his hand to her and Hermione trembled as she slipped her fingers into his palm and they shook. “Welcome to the family, Miss Granger.
***
{Wednesday, June 5th, 2002}
“Can I look now?”
“Nope.”
“How about now?”
“No!”
“You know, you’re really not very good at the whole giving-the-birthday-boy-what-he-wants thing…” Draco teased, his hands firmly held over his eyes as Hermione guided him into his bedroom. She had spent the entire night in his quarters trying to get it ready for his unofficial homecoming. She had dark circles under her eyes but her eyes were bright with excitement. Finally, she motioned for him to stop walking then circled around to stand in front of him.
Hermione still found herself awestruck by… well, him. Not just him, per se… but this version of him. One that belonged to her. Almost.
Draco was taller now than he was when she’d seen him before the curse took place. Which made sense, of course, he was only seventeen then. Draco was a grown man now at twenty-one years old. There was definition in his face and smooth white stubble across his chin. His body was lean muscled and there was an odd kind of power that radiated from him. Hermione wasn’t sure if it was a touch of pureblood magic- which she doubted as she never got that feeling from Ron, Ginny, or Neville- or something else. And of course, there were the… new subtleties.
The curse left a few lingering traces of its magic on everyone it transformed. Ginny and Molly had a soft, nearly porcelain-like glow to their skin now and Sirius’ hair was coarser, like thread. Narcissa’s eyelashes were longer than they had been- feathery in nature and her hair held the same downy softness. Lucius couldn’t kick the heavy tinges of French from his voice and kept finding his accent blurring from British to the former without even trying. And Draco?... His eyes were more silver than gray. He had a predatory air about him that always set Hermione on fire. His canines were permanently elongated and nearly stuck out of his mouth even when his lips were pressed tightly together. Hermione thought it just made him that more handsome…
“Granger, am I allowed to open my eyes yet?” Draco asked and his voice drew her from her nearly sinful thoughts. She was staring at his mouth again, imagining those pink lips pressed against her own. And her throat. Her breasts. Her stomach. Her thighs. Between her legs… Chills ran up Hermione’s spine and she cleared her throat to rid her mind of the burning image of Draco’s silver eyes looking up at her. She swallowed hard and smiled as her face flushed bright red.
“Yes. Open up.”
Draco dropped his hands and opened first his left eyelid. Then his right. Instantly, his pupils blew and Hermione beamed at him. He spun around on his heels, the black-and-silver shoes squeaking on the freshly clean floor.
Hermione had transformed the once dark and void bedroom into something quite cozy. Much like the library- it now had her touch. She’d polished all the silver brandishings until they shone like moonlight. She’d brushed over the baseboards and added a faded gold color to them that made the paint look vintage and warm. All of the dark bedding and curtains were replaced with deep emerald-green colors with gold stitching. She even repaired the family portrait and switched out the frame for one that was sage and gold. In the darkest parts of the room she added some of the magical twinkling lights from the library and there were several hanging baskets of various plants. The cloche that once held the silver rose was on his nightstand, covering the now destroyed copy of Beauty and the Beast. Draco stared at it for a while before turning slowly toward Hermione with wide eyes.
“You did… all of this in one day… for me?”
“It isn’t much of a birthday present, but I figured you’d like it.” Her face filled with color. She cleared her throat again and motioned toward the parapet- which was now closed off with newly repaired glass doors. “No more cold winds coming in to freeze you half to death. Some privacy, yeah? But they’re glass so you can draw back the curtains and bask.” A playful glint of mischief entered her syrupy gaze. “I know you’ll still want to bask.”
“Hermione, this is…” Draco turned around to glance at everything again then paused when his eyes shifted over the bed once more. He hadn’t noticed them the first time, but now it had tears filling his eyes and color flushing his face. Nestled between the pillows toward the headboard were the now-still forms of the teddy bear and stuffed rabbit toys. He walked over to the bed and leaned across the frame. He pulled them in close to his chest and sighed. After a moment of silence, he glanced at her again and smiled brightly, his fang teeth glinting in the twinkling light. “This is incredible. I’ve never felt so at home in my own bedroom. It feels… warm. And safe. And… like a space I want to share with you.”
Hermione’s blushed deepened and she gave a slight nod of her head. “I think, considering our history and all of that… it will feel odd for me to sleep in the same bed as you. This is your parents’ house after all and they live here… Their bedroom is right down the hall…”
“We could move to the East Wing then, to your quarters,” he suggested with a small smile. “We could move away entirely if that’s what you want. Someplace else. Anywhere you want to go. We can…” He measured his next words carefully. “We can go find your parents.”
Hermione looked stricken. In the mess and chaos of everything, she hadn’t even gotten that far in her thought process yet. Just existing in the real world again felt like such a chore. The next few weeks would be filled with a great many things. There were visits to the Ministry to make, a Ministry to rebuild, and an entire world to piece back together. A world filled with magic that… had never had much space for her mother and father. Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed. My parents who are somewhere far away, perhaps in Australia still… they don’t miss me. They don’t even know I exist… they… Involuntary tears welled in her eyes.
“I think I’d like that very much,” she said softly after a moment as she glanced down at her paint spattered fingers. She didn’t hear Draco bridge the space between them. She only saw his shadow move and then he was lifting her head with his fingers gently brushed under her chin. He wiped her tears away and extended the tattered teddy bear to her. She took it in her arms and hugged it tightly as she stared into Draco’s burning silver eyes.
“There is nothing, absolutely nothing… that I won’t do for you,” he told her in a gentle but heavy voice. “If you told me you wanted the oceans themselves, Hermione Granger, I would find a way to summon saltwater from every sea in the world and ensnare it so that you might find pleasure in the tide.”
Hermione’s breath left her lungs. “That’s… that’s more than anyone should ever ask for, Malfoy.”
“And yet, if you asked it, I would do it,” he responded softly as he ran a gentle finger through one of her chocolatey curls. He studied her face for a long time then clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “After my birthday celebration tonight, my parents are going to spend some time away. We’ll have the manor all to ourselves.”
Hermione’s lip trembled from the ferocity in his gaze. “O-Oh, really?...”
“The Hogwarts Rescue Brigade kept everything safe for those who were missing while they were away. My aunt and her family will go back to their home. Remus and Sirius will go back to Twelve Grimmauld Place. It will be just us for a little while.”
Hermione’s eyes glittered. She gently took one hand off of the stuffed animal and used it to cup Draco’s cheek. “Just us,” she repeated and he nodded to her. “Draco?”
“Yes, princess?” he whispered and the grit in his voice made her shiver.
“If you told me that you wanted the moon as your birthday present, I would throw a lasso around it and pull it down for you. But the silver of its light still would mean nothing against the wild shade of your eyes.”
Draco’s pale lips lifted in a smile. “Granger, I only want one thing for my birthday.” He brushed his thumb over her mouth and Hermione longed for more than just a swipe of his skin.
“And what is that?” she asked in a voice so light and taut it was less than a whisper. Draco’s eyes glittered.
“Can’t tell you now. It won’t come true.” He leaned in and kissed her softly- for only a moment. Hermione’s heart leapt into her throat and the teddy bear nearly tumbled from her grasp, but she held tightly to it to anchor herself in place. He pulled back from her and brushed his nose against her own. “Come now, love,” he whispered. “Let’s go have a party. I want to show you off.”
Chapter 25: A Tale as Old as Time
Summary:
{Hermione, Draco, and Charlie}
Hermione gets a taste of pureblood life outside of the curse.
Draco bonds with his family now that things are... different.
Charlie reconnects with someone he hasn't seen in a long time.
Notes:
Hey, starlets!
I know that this was supposed to be the last chapter. I finished it, sat with it, was content with it. *But*... I wanted more. So here's the surprise. Five more chapters. Are they all necessary? Maybe not. Could I end it here? Sure! Did I do that? N o p e.
As a warning, chapter 27 is * s p i c y * just so you're aware. (It's ABOUT DAMN TIME AMIRIGHT)
Some ramblings in the end notes!
Drink some water and enjoy your journey to the stars (:
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
{Wednesday, June 5th, 2002}
Hermione had never seen anyone throw a party quite like Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. They invited what felt like the entire Wizarding World and the entire Wizarding World happily obliged. She spent a large portion of the evening surrounded by her friends as the newly reformed Malfoy Manor filled with laughter, music, food, people, and dancing.
At first, she worried that the ballroom would remain divided- Slytherins on one side and everyone else on the other. But then Theo Nott asked Luna Lovegood to dance and the resentment between the two sides vanished as he spun her around and complimented how lovely she looked in her frilly blue dress and yellow rainboots. Fred Weasley pulled Pansy Parkinson onto the floor and then everyone was dancing.
Hermione smiled from ear to ear, stopping to talk to anyone who had a moment of time for her, as she wove her way through the crowd. She made her way over to a burly man who was playing the piano with a familiar woman leaned up against him, her head on his shoulder. Andromeda’s eyes were kind as she smiled at Hermione when she approached.
“You play beautifully, Ted,” the Gryffindor told the former Maestro with a warm note to her voice. “You sound even better than you did when you were the piano.”
“My mum taught me how to play when I was very young,” the fellow muggle-born told her with a soft chuckle. “I always say the piano was my first love and Andromeda was my second.”
“How are you getting on? Being back?” the younger witch asked as Dromeda tucked a strand of brown hair back out of her face. She shrugged her shoulders.
“Adjusting. We’re going home tomorrow. It seems… strange… to leave the manor after all these years,” she sighed honestly. “Oddly enough, I feel like the curse brought Cissy and I back together. We’ve been estranged for quite some time, you see. But Cissa, Sirius, and I have talked about trying to be a little family again. Nymphadora hasn’t gotten much time around them and I think that the kinship will do her well. Perhaps she and Draco can be actual family, you know. Instead of enemies.” Her eyes were soft. “How are you doing, Hermione? Has Lucius lightened up a bit?”
“He’s coming around,” she replied honestly. “I think his trip away with Missus Malfoy will do him some good. He needs time to adjust. We all do.”
“Speaking of adjusting,” Ted murmured with a curious glance over at her. He nodded his head to someone in the crowd and Hermione followed her gaze. She smiled warmly when she saw Neville laugh at something Ron said as they danced together. A few paces away, Molly Weasley was talking eagerly to Augusta Longbottom about something while Charlie bounced Victoire on his hip nearby. She turned her gaze back toward Ted and the former piano just shook his head fondly at her.
“It’s funny… to see how it all played out. If you’d told me at the beginning of the Battle of Hogwarts that this would be the outcome, I’d never have believed you.”
“You’re telling me,” Hermione chuckled as she ran a hand across the back of her neck. She suddenly grew warm and was very aware that she was under heat from a predator’s sharp eyes. She found Draco immediately and her heart pounded against her ribs when she saw him across the room, dancing with his mother while keeping his eyes glued to her. Burning through her. Hunting me.
***
“Happy birthday, my sweet boy,” Narcissa said to Draco in a light, relaxed voice that he hadn’t heard from her as a human in more years than he could count. The Slytherin tore his acidic gaze away from Hermione and smiled down at her as he twirled the witch in his arms. “I am so, so proud of you. For standing up to your father, for fighting for Hermione… for the young man you’ve become. I just love you so, so much…”
“Mum,” Draco groaned, his face flushing red as he buried his head into her shoulder to hide his embarrassment. “I love you too…”
“Will you and Hermione be married then?” she asked softly and it made Draco skip a step in their waltz. “And have children? Oh, I’d love a little grandbaby to…”
“We haven’t talked about any of that yet,” Draco replied urgently as he lifted his head. “It was impossible to until a few days ago. I was a monster. And now we’re real, we’re… us again. With years of bad blood between us to clean. I have ideologies to unlearn. She has trust to build. I don’t want to go too fast and ruin everything. I want to work for it. I want to earn her.” He smiled softly at his mother. “Like dad earned you.”
Narcissa flushed furiously. She caught sight of Lucius briefly through the throng of people and saw, rather warmly, that he was talking quite energetically with Remus Lupin and Sirius Black- of all people. She tilted her head at the sight of him. “You know… I think being turned into a candlestick was the best thing that could have ever happened to your father.”
Draco chuckled. “Really?”
“Yes. This… the last few days really, has been the most genuine side of him I’ve seen in a long time.” Narcissa blinked slowly. “He and I were both raised with pureblood propaganda shoved down our throats and beaten into us. But he’s a different person with me- he always has been. Softer. Gentler. And oh, so funny…” She blinked lightly. “We became these pawns, these moving pieces in someone else’s war. I watched the Lucius I loved get torn away bit by bit by Voldemort. By the pureblood mania.” She found Draco’s eyes and held his stare. “I was washed away in it as well. How could we not be? We lost ourselves somewhere in it all… And we wrapped you up in it, Draco, and I am sorry. I should have been a better mother to you…”
“Don’t say that,” Draco told her urgently. “You and dad ran through a battlefield where both sides wanted you dead just looking for me. Neither of you even had wands. Or any way to defend yourselves. In your own ways, even if it was harsh or… cruel, I suppose… I always knew that you loved me. I never doubted that. Not for a second, okay?”
Tears were forming in her eyes. “But Draco…”
“No, no more,” he said in a stern voice that must have reminded Narcissa of Lucius- because she instantly chuckled and rolled her eyes. “We move forward now, okay? What happened then is done. It’s in the past. It’s over.”
“I think she’ll be good for you, Draco,” Narcissa said at last as Lucius appeared at her side. She smiled brightly and Draco twirled his mother to his father. Lucius caught her with a smile so filled with adoration that Draco nearly felt he should look away. The lord of the manor ran his thumbs over Narcissa’s lips and kissed her gently.
“Darling.”
“Husband,” she almost purred as they pressed their foreheads together. “Enjoy your talk with Lupin and Black?”
“Yes, quite,” he replied with only a moment of delay. “It turns out our lycanthropic companion is extremely educated. More so than I gave him credit for. I…” Lucius blinked heavily as a bloom of chagrin dyed the apples of his cheeks red. “I find them both rather funny actually, now that things have changed.” His eyes softened as he glanced over at his son. Draco felt an odd, unfamiliar kind of fondness stirring for his father. It was warm and safe and nearly delicate- something he’d never held for him before. He tilted his head a bit and smiled.
“So… things have changed then?” he asked and Lucius rolled his eyes.
“Yes, Draco. Things have changed.” Draco found his father’s eyes again as Lucius lifted Narcissa’s hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I have changed. I think we all have.”
“It’s about time we did,” Draco agreed with a soft nod of his head. He glanced around the room in search of Hermione and found her dancing sloppily with Ginny, the two of them laughing loudly as they took turns spinning one another. He smiled then turned back toward his parents, only to find them hopelessly lost in each other’s eyes. He shook his head with a chuckle then slipped into the crowd and made his way over to where his aunt and uncle were curled up by the piano.
***
Charlie was absolutely in love with his niece. He spent a good hour of the party just gushing over her and showing Victoire off to anyone who would stop and listen to him, eagerly dragging her, Bill, and Fleur around to various members of the Hogwarts Rescue Brigade. Eventually the little girl began to cry and so her parents pried her out of her uncle’s arms and the three of them departed for the Shell Cottage. Charlie ended up people watching after that- still struggling to believe that all of this was real.
He was sitting by himself near one of the open windows and smiled when Archimedes fluttered in and over to him. He cooed at his dearest friend and patted the bird’s head gently with long, affectionate strokes to his smaller feathers. “Good job, by the way,” he told the owl and Archimedes just chirred at him. “We could never have brought them back without you. I owe you everything…”
“Hey, Charlie, look out!”
The cry came a moment too late. A blur of pink went crashing into him and Charlie spilled onto the floor with a yelp as Archimedes leapt into the air to avoid being crushed. The Weasley shook his head and propped himself up on his elbows just as the attacker went reeling back with a squeal of horror.
“I am so sorry! Dead clumsy I am. I… Oh! Hiya, Charlie!”
That’s when he really recognized her. Wearing a bright pink dress, black boots, and with wild pink hair, the tornado that nearly knocked his skeleton from inside his skin was none other than Nymphadora Tonks. I remember her! We were in school together at the same time. Woah, I don’t remember her being this pretty though…
“It’s okay! I was the one being weird over here talking to my bird instead of hanging out with the family I’ve been looking for, for three years…” Charlie hauled himself to his feet then extended his hand down to Tonks, who slid her hand into his own and let herself be pulled to a standing position. She held his gaze for a moment, her pupils wide and lips slightly parted. “Oh, this is Archimedes by the way. He’s my best friend.” Charlie clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and the owl loyally heeled to him, landing on his master’s shoulder with a dutiful dip of his head. “Archimedes- Dora. Dora- Archimedes. You do still go by Dora, don’t you?...”
“Of course I do!” She crinkled up her nose and smiled brightly at Archimedes. “So much better than Nymphadora. It’s nice to meet you, Archimedes! I’ve heard through the grapevine that we owe this handsome bird quite a great thanks. A hero he is.”
“More than you know,” Charlie agreed, never taking his eyes from her. It was then that Charlie seemed to realize he was still holding Dora’s hand and he awkwardly dropped her fingers from his grasp. He cleared his throat. “Uhm. So. Do you want to dance, or…?”
She smiled softly as her face filled with color and the ends of her hair turned dark violet. “I’d love to.”
***
“I’d like to make a toast, if I may!” Lucius Malfoy’s voice rang out loud and clear through the filled ballroom. All eyes were on him as he raised his glass and the partygoers mirrored him. “I know that the last five years or so have been trying times for the Wizarding World and muggle communities alike. The prelude to the war, the battle itself, and then the cursed aftermath… we have quite a bit to rebuild.”
A warm ripple of agreement spread through the crowd as Hermione slowly made her way through the throng of people and took the open space at Draco’s side. He automatically offered her his arm, so she coiled her hands around his bicep and leaned her head on his shoulder as Lucius continued to speak.
“And we can begin the process of mending what has been broken tomorrow,” the lord of the manor continued as he cleared his throat. “But tonight we celebrate. We celebrate my son- and only heir- on his twenty-first birthday. Something that would have been a tale of loss and heartache had it not been for the bravery, stubbornness, and affection of Hermione Jean Granger.”
When Lucius spoke her name and locked those gray eyes on her, Hermione felt her nerves unravel. She stared up at him in shock, her lips slightly parted in surprise as Lucius raised his glass higher.
“To Hermione Granger!”
“To Hermione Granger!” everyone echoed as they drank.
“To Draco Malfoy,” came a cry from the back and Hermione beamed from ear to ear when she realized the voice was none other than Rubeus Hagrid.
“To Draco Malfoy!” The toast came again.
“And… To a new future,” Narcissa finished as she drank. She smiled and glanced over at her husband, who suddenly looked quite nervous. “To signify our change in political stance, as well as celebrate the courtship of our son and Hermione, my husband has a bit of a treat for you all. I know a lot of you don’t know Lucius well- at least not the real version of him. But, something you might be surprised to learn is that he has an absolutely beautiful singing voice. It’s one of the things that made me fall in love with him.”
Hermione felt the hairs along her arms starting to prickle when she heard Ted pick up the piano again- the melody one that was oddly familiar to her. And then it clicked in her mind and tears welled instantly in her eyes.
“So, without further ado… Lucius Malfoy.” Narcissa kissed her husband’s cheek then took a step back. Lucius blinked, took a deep breath, Vanished his glass, and cleared his throat. Hermione felt Draco’s weight shifting around her. He pulled her into a position so they could dance as Lucius began to sing, his voice rich and velvety smooth (albeit a bit shaky).
“Tale as old as time. True as it can be. Barely even friends, then somebody bends… unexpectedly. Just a little change. Small to say the least. Both a little scared. Neither one prepared… Beauty and the Beast.”
“So, Granger,” Draco whispered playfully as the rest of the room began to dance with them. “You’re muggle-born…”
“A wise and observant assessment, Malfoy,” Hermione teased back, her eyes flashing sharply as he dipped her.
“I was just wondering if you’d ever actually read it.”
“Read what?”
“Beauty and the Beast.”
“Well,” Hermione began with a chuckle. “It’s a book originally written in French that was published in 1740…”
“Ever just the same. Ever a surprise. Ever as before- ever just as sure as the sun will rise…”
“So you’ve read it twice, once in English and once in French?”
Hermione burst out laughing as he twirled her. Draco laughed too when she came back into his arms again, their faces only an inch apart. She stared into his silver eyes and felt her heart begin to pound.
“I’ve read it twice, yes. I’ve seen the movie as well. It really is quite lovely.”
“I think I’d like to see it too…”
“Tale as old as time- song as old as rhyme. Bittersweet and strange. Finding you can change; learning you were wrong…”
“A muggle movie?” Hermione crinkled up her nose at him. “You’d watch a film like that with me?”
“Granger, what did I tell you earlier?” he whispered as he leaned his head in close to her ear. “I’d capture the sea for you if it was what would make you smile. I think watching a muggle movie we spent three years tethered to can be something I could arrange.”
Hermione felt her senses blurring as his warm breath scorched her skin. She pulled back just a little to look at his face again and she felt her flesh prickle under the intensity in his gaze. Draco brushed a ribbon of hair off her shoulder and looked at her again with a predatory heat that made her feel like he wanted to eat her alive. She stared at his lips and lifted her hands to cup his jaw.
“Certain as the sun rising in the East. Tale as old as time- song as old as rhyme. Beauty and the Beast…”
“Happy birthday, my prince,” she whispered in a voice so low he barely heard it. Draco flashed her a fang-toothed smile and leaned in toward her mouth. He pressed his lips to her own and Hermione felt the entire world melt away. Nothing remained in the universe except him, her, the piano, and the flickering sound of Lucius’ singing.
“Tale as old as time- song as old as rhyme. Beauty and the Beast.”
Notes:
This is Charlie Weasley's last P.O.V. in the story (aww man). His story has been told. He can be happy now. And get some fucking sleeeeeeeep.
CHARLIE AND TONKS?! THAT MAKES SO MUCH MORE SENSE THAN REMUS AND TONKS AND I SHAN'T BE MOVED ON IT. I SHIP IT. I LOVE IT. WE STAN CHARDORA IN THIS HOUSE.
Ahem.
Lucius and Narcissa are SO down bad for each other and I love it.
Anyway. Hell yeah.
Chapter 26: Secrets of the Darkest Art
Summary:
{Draco and Hermione}
Our prince and princess finally discover exactly what caused the curse, how it happened, and... just how much they truly owe to the Bookworm and the Snake.
Notes:
Hey starlets!
I actually REALLY love this chapter. It's so necessary and I just... I don't know, I'm really proud of it. I'm glad I added it in.
I hope you like it too.
Drink some water for me and enjoy your journey to the stars. <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
{Friday, June 7th, 2002}
Draco bade his mother and father farewell with a hug, a kiss, and a pinky promise to write him frequently while they were away. Hermione spent nearly half an hour saying bye to Remus and Sirius, annoyingly teary-eyed even though Grimmauld Place was not that far away from Malfoy Manor if one took a broom (and only an eyelash blink away if one was to Apparate). The Tonks offered less resistance, as Draco held little connection with his aunt and uncle but Andromeda insisted that they’d be closer moving forward. For family dinner and the like. Hermione seemed pleasantly surprise to see that an unexpected person was hanging around the manor and left with the family of three. Charlie Weasley seemed to be absolutely smitten with Dora and took her with him back to The Burrow to spend more time with his family.
Once all the tears were shed, the bye-for-nows were given, and the guests were waved away, Draco found himself leaning against the doorway to his family home just… watching her. Hermione was wearing that familiar green-and-white gingham dress and she’d brushed her hair but not overworked it so the strands of chocolate ribbons fell around her shoulders in a mixture of waves and frizzy curls. She was wearing the boots she’d had on the first time he saw her as the prince and something about that made a dull, throbbing ache settle in the center of his chest. He tilted his head to the side as she turned on her heels to face him and his breath ceased for a moment as he laid eyes on her dewy lashes, flushed cheeks, and reddened nose.
“We’ll see them all soon enough,” he told her brightly as he stepped down from the front porch and swept her into his arms. Hermione’s face brightened as he brushed his nose against her own. “Hey, how about a tour of the grounds? One more time, hm? In the sunlight, no snow, without a confused Lucius Malfoy lurking about?”
She chuckled and gave a nod of her head. “Yes, please! The gardens first, if we could. There’s so much work to do in them. They’re terribly overgrown.”
Hermione wrapped her hands around his arm and let Draco guide her off the stone porch and onto the pebbled paths of the manor’s garden. He was quiet for a moment as his silver eyes roamed over all the wild, unkept vegetation. “This was Dobby’s favorite place to be. Whenever I couldn’t find him, he’d be out here. Tending to the topiaries and flowers.” Draco touched one of the wild red roses and Hermione watched him for a moment with a sympathetic expression on his face.
“I forgot he used to be your family’s house elf…”
“He was my only friend, you know,” Draco said in a softer voice, one so gentle she barely heard him. He stared down at the rose and imagined, for just a moment, that Dobby was tending to the flower with a genuine, happy smile on his face. He was always so happy in the gardens… Draco cleared his throat. “Well, my only friend that wasn’t… I don’t know. Pre-destined. He was my servant and yet, I truly do feel like he cared for me. He talked to me differently than my mother and father would. Or even my friends. I’d ask him about the flowers and he’d just talk to me. Just talk.”
Hermione stared up at Draco with understanding brown eyes. “It must have been sad for you when Harry freed him.”
Draco’s jaw set. A reoccurring drum of anger filled him from the bottom of his feet to the top of his head. He remembered being twelve years old asking his father why Dobby wasn’t tending to the gardens. {“He’ll be so upset to see how badly his roses have overgrown!”} And then Lucius and Narcissa sat him down and explained that Dobby was a free elf now and wouldn’t return to Malfoy Manoy if he didn’t want to. Draco had fronted artificial anger. He was livid with Harry Potter for tricking his father and giving Dobby a sock. But not because he freed him. Because he took my only friend away. Draco managed to wait until he made it to his room to curl up around his stuffed animals and cry until his heart nearly broke.
“Draco? Love, are you alright?” Hermione’s gentle voice drew the Slytherin out of his thoughts. He blinked, his eyes stinging, and looked down at the rose again.
“Y-Yeah. I just…” He cleared his throat. “Miss him, is all.”
“Did he ever come see you? After he was freed?” Hermione asked gently, rubbing her hand in soothing circles across Draco’s shoulder. He leaned into her touch and exhaled all the air in his lungs.
“Yes. He came to tell me bye one night a few months after he’d been freed. He looked good, I will admit. He’d gained a bit of weight and seemed happier than I’d ever seen him. Even happier than he was in the garden.” Draco smiled a bit. “I hugged him and cried myself sick. He told me how to care for the flowers, but I was so distraught, I don’t think I was really listening.” He blinked and rubbed the tears from his bottom lashes. “That was the last time I saw him. Until that night.” He didn’t need to specify which one. They both knew. Draco saw Hermione’s arms prickle with goosebumps. She nodded to him slightly. “Luna… told me he died.”
“He did,” Hermione whispered softly. “Bellatrix’s knife…”
He nodded. Draco tried to steel himself, but the image of Dobby- his truest friend- bleeding out in Harry Potter’s arms brought him to ruin. Tears welled up in his eyes and spilled over his pale lashes. “Is he…” Draco sniffled as Hermione wiped the drops from his cheeks. “Is he buried somewhere?”
“Yes,” she replied immediately. “We took good care of him, Draco. He’s buried by the sea at Bill and Fleurs’ cottage.”
“Do you think they’d let me visit someday?” he asked desperately. “I’d like to say goodbye to him.”
“I think they wouldn’t mind at all.” Hermione lifted up on the tips of her toes and brushed her lips across Draco’s cheek. Then something shifted in the energy between them. Her eyebrows furrowed and her pupils widened until her irises were just thin rings of brown around pools of black. Her jaw dropped and Draco could almost hear the gears grinding inside of her head.
“Hermione, what is it?...”
“Bellatrix Lestrange killed Dobby.”
Draco flinched. “Yes.”
“She took the life of another.”
His eyebrows furrowed now. “Yes?…”
“Draco, I just thought of something! Come on, we have to go to the library!”
***
Hermione sat next to Draco, flipping madly through a book she’d cataloged what felt like an entire lifetime ago in the ‘restricted’ section of the Library of the Snake. He kept watching her with those intent, predatory eyes, one of her chocolate curls twined around his finger. The more she read, the more pages she turned, the paler and paler her face became. Draco watched her eyebrows furrow as she covered her mouth with the hand she wasn’t using to hold the book open.
“Darling, why don’t you put this away?... A book like this should never be in your presence.”
“I’ve held a copy of this book before. And besides- this is important,” she told him over her fingers as she flipped through the pages. “Where is it? Where is it? I know it’s in here…” Finally, she slammed her hand down on a passage and her eyes grew wide. A certain paragraph was circled with worn black ink. “I knew it!”
“What is it?” Draco asked as he scooted in closer to her to read. “Horcrux?...”
“That’s what…” Hermione took a deep breath. “That’s what Harry, Ron, and I were doing while we were away in our seventh year, Draco. We discovered that Voldemort had created Horcruxes to make himself immortal. So we hunted each of them down and destroyed them. But in order to create a Horcrux, one has to commit murder. Killing someone else splits the soul.” She held his gaze evenly and watched as the color drained from Draco’s already pale face.
“He…” Draco leaned in and read over Hermione’s shoulder. “But that means he had to create them in the first Wizarding War or earlier… he was relatively young at that time and he’d… killed how many people?”
“Well, he had seven Horcruxes at the end- Harry was one he didn’t mean to make. But six were intentional.” Hermione looked away. “Harry knows more about it than I do. He always got sheepish when we’d discuss it.”
Draco pushed to his feet and began to pace, feeling an eerie chill creep up his spine. He looked around the library and remembered that he’d been standing by the window the first time Voldemort stepped into the manor. It was like all warmth was leeched from the world. He shivered and rubbed his shoulders. He glanced back at Hermione and saw her closing the Malfoy’s copy of Secrets of the Darkest Art. She looked up at him with watery eyes.
“Draco, can you tell me again what you remember? About the curse?”
He shivered again involuntarily. “I… was at Hogwarts during the battle. Mother and father swept me away. We came home.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“And then I don’t know how much time passed, but Aunt Bella was at the door. I didn’t… remember her though. It was like she was someone else. Like I was someone else.”
Hermione placed the massive tome aside, eyeing the book as if she were afraid it would come to life and bite her. She pushed to her feet and extended her hand to Draco. He closed the space between them and slid his fingers into her own. Without a word, he let her guide him out of the library and toward the staircase that led to the West Wing of Malfoy Manor.
***
They sat on Draco’s bed with the destroyed copy of Beauty and the Beast between them. Hermione kept wincing if she looked at it too long, but Draco found that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. He reached out, touched one of the tainted pages, and felt every hair on his arms stand on end. He picked it up and Hermione sucked in a hard breath as she inched closer to him.
“Be careful with that, love… Horcruxes are nasty creations.”
“So that’s what you think this is?” he asked again, just as he had when she’d first told him her theory. Hermione’s brown eyes sought his own. “You think my Aunt Bella created a Horcrux when she killed Dobby?”
The muggle-born witch nodded slowly. “I do.”
“I just don’t understand…”
Hermione swallowed hard. “Draco, Bellatrix Lestrange was killed in the Battle of Hogwarts. She lost her duel with Molly Weasley and it costed her, her life.”
Draco nodded slowly.
“So there’s no way you could have seen her after the battle, you understand. She was already gone. The curse had already started. What you saw was a piece of Bellatrix. The part that haunted this.”
“But I still don’t understand why we ended up inside the story.”
Hermione shrugged her shoulders, her eyes storming with thoughts. “Well… the diary of Tom Riddle- the one that your father so politely gave to Ginny in our second year…” Draco shot Hermione a dirty look and she blinked apologetically. “Was a blank diary. Ginny poured her thoughts into it and fed Voldemort’s soul inside it. I… I think that maybe, because this book was already written… it just kind of blended together. Powerful dark magic against muggle simplicity might offer some strange results.”
“But I still don’t understand why Bella would have chosen this as a Horcrux. There were so many other things she could have picked. Why a muggle children’s book she’s probably never even heard of?” Draco turned it around in his hands and shook his head. He noticed Hermione shifting in his peripheral vision and turned his head to look at her. There were tears in her eyes. Carefully, very carefully- as if she feared it would burn her- Hermione took the book from his hands. She turned the destroyed novel to the last page and flipped it around to face him. Scrawled in very small lettering on the bottom right corner of the book were the words- property of Hermione Jean Granger.
“Because it’s mine.”
Draco looked struck. “But how did she…”
“I-I went to see my parents, as I’ve told you…” She sniffled. “Before we left for the hunt. It was one of my favorite stories. My mum loved it. She called me her… her little Belle.” Hermione wiped her eyes. “Before I left my house to meet up with Ronald and Harry, I took this book from the shelf in the living room. Sometimes, late at night, when the boys were sleeping- I’d open it. I’d read it. I could imagine that my mum was reading it with me and it made me feel like perhaps I hadn’t lost her. I-I know that sounds silly…”
Draco reached out and wiped Hermione’s tears away. He set his jaw and shook his head. “I don’t think it’s silly. Not one bit. Not at all.”
“I kept it in my jacket…” she whispered next as she leaned into his palm. “There was a little pocket on the inside. Close to my heart. I t-think when Bellatrix was torturing me that it might have fallen out. Everything happened so quickly after we left the manor, I-I knew it was missing, but I didn’t have time to look for it. It’s a slap in the face for me, Draco. That she took something that meant so much to me- something that would mean nothing to her as a pureblood follower of Voldemort- and used it to hurt us…”
When Hermione began softly sobbing, Draco’s heart couldn’t take it. He pulled her tightly in against his chest with the ruined children’s book smashed between them. “Shh, shh. Hey. I’m here…” He rocked her gently and kissed the top of her head. “Oh, Hermione. I’m so sorry your copy of the book got destroyed…”
“It’s o-okay,” she whimpered. “I’m sorry for all the harm it caused.”
“It did not cause harm. Bella… she did,” Draco replied furiously, but gently, as he kissed the top of her head again. “You’re not to blame for this, do you understand me?” Hermione just cried harder and he gave her a tight squeeze. “Do you hear me? You had no control over what happened. And…” He measured his next words very carefully. “For what it’s worth, Hermione… I’m glad. I’m glad it happened. That we ended up cursed inside the book.”
That caught her attention. She peeled back from him and looked up at Draco with wide eyes. “You are?”
“Yes!”
“Why?...”
With a soft smile, Draco brushed his thumb over her cheek. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “If you didn’t take the book from your parent's house, it wouldn’t have been inside your coat when the snatchers caught you. If it wasn’t inside your coat, Bella wouldn’t have found it, she wouldn’t have cursed it as a Horcrux. When she was killed in the Battle of Hogwarts, her soul wouldn’t have kicked to life inside this copy of Beauty and the Beast. I wouldn’t have been changed into a terrifying snake monster. I’d never have met Hermione Hagrid.” At that, she crinkled her nose. “Never have fallen in love with her, learned a smidgen of humility…”
“You could use a bit more,” she chuckled as she wiped her eyes and he playfully growled at her.
“And the curse would never have existed. I’d have gone on to marry… probably Pansy. Or Daphne.”
“Or Theo?” she teased and Draco actually burst out laughing.
“Oh, shut up! But I would have gone on, married one of them- been happy enough, sure. You’d have married Ronald Weasley. Probably had eight or nine kids.”
“Oh, fuck off!”
“Ron never would have felt safe enough to explore his sexuality and feelings for Neville. Likewise, Neville would have married some well-enough woman like Luna or Susan Bones or… Hannah Abbott. We’d all be content, I’m sure. Talk every now and then in awkward silence because we never really got over the war. See each other on the platform when it’s time to take our kids to school each year. Wave a little. Nod cordially. But this?” Draco smiled and the warmth in the gesture brought fresh, happy tears to Hermione’s eyes. “This is where the depth is, Hermione. Where the real growth and happiness comes in. I get to spend the rest of my life with the girl I’ve loved for over a decade. Ron gets to find out who he is outside of The Golden Trio. Neville found his courage. And everything else will fall into place as it should. All because you loved this book so much.” He lifted up Beauty and the Beast and tapped it against her forehead. “So, yes. I’m glad it happened. All of it. Exactly as it has.”
Tears ran down Hermione’s face. She shook her head in disbelief, pulled the book out of his hands, tossed it aside, threw herself into his arms, and kissed him with everything she had.
Notes:
"I'm glad it happened." S T O P
You simp. I love it.
Him walking her back through the process of A plus A got us to B... I am obsessed.
Their banter is so cute.
Oh, remember that the next couple of chapters are S P I C Y. I had a *blast* with them. Hope you like it. ;)
Chapter 27: Marked
Summary:
{Draco and Hermione}
Hermione makes the decision to take back what Bellatrix took from her.
And Draco, oh Draco... he's an adoring accomplice who can't help but give Hermione whatever she wants.
Notes:
okay so...
If y'all know anything about me, it's that I typically write M/M ships. M/M smut. Wolfstar specifically. I *know* that dynamic and I *know* how to write it. I was realllllllly worried I wouldn't get this right. That it would fall flat, or short, or read... not... right.
But then I just wrote like ten pages of Hermione being headstrong and Draco adoring her and really, honestly... I'm proud of this mess. The filth that it is.
So it only took TWENTY-SEVEN FUCKING CHAPTERS BUTTT... ladies and gentlemen, Dramione smut.
Drink some water and enjoy your journey to the stars. <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
They spent the rest of the day together in the garden taming the wild tangles of roses, lavender stalks, and thorns. They made dinner together with help from Kreacher, who had opted to stay with the Malfoys. After an amazing meal and an even better dessert, Draco took to doing the dishes while Hermione cleaned up the table and swept the dining room floor. She had just bent down to brush her gathered dirt pile into the dustpan when a bubble drifted over and popped on her nose. Hermione let out a soft cry as a small army of bubbles surrounded her on all sides.
“Draco!” she laughed as they popped against her skin. “Draco, what are you doing?!”
“Blowing bubbles at you,” he responded simply as he flicked his wand at the soapy dishwater then toward Hermione. Another stream of iridescent spheres went hurtling toward her. Hermione laughed as she pulled her wand from her bun and flicked it toward him.
“Oppugno!” she said with a mischievous grin and all the bubbles in the sink started swarming Draco. He looked aghast and tried to wipe them away, but they kept coming. He turned toward her with an eyebrow raised and threw his wand down on the counter.
“That’s it, Granger. You’re in for it.”
The next thing Hermione knew, he was chasing her through the dining room and out into the hallway with a flurry of bubbles following behind him. Hermione ran and laughed as she weaved around sculptures of Malfoys past and ducked under a tapestry of Lucius and Narcissa from their wedding day. She leaped over the stairway banister in the entrance hall then turned abruptly into the drawing room and flattened herself against the far wall. She covered her mouth with her hands to try and stifle both her laughter and her breathing, but Draco found her anyway. His arms wrapped around her and then they tumbled to the floor together, grinning and silly and covered in her swarm of bubbles.
“Call them off!” he laughed and she nodded with a smile as she brushed her nose against his own. She pulled her wand from her hair and waved it at them before letting the stick of vine wood roll from her fingers. Draco kissed her then. First on her forehead, then on her chin, then finally her mouth. He tilted his head and broke the embrace to trail his mouth to her cheek, then her neck. He could feel her pulse pounding in her throat and it made his predatory senses flare. “Hermione…” he whispered as he lifted his head to look at her… and he immediately froze.
Her heart was absolutely pounding. Her eyes were wide, her pupils blown until her chocolate-hued irises were only thin rings of brown around pools of terrified black. There were already tears beading her lashes. It took Draco less than a heartbeat to understand. She turned her head to the side and stared at the mark on her arm. He leaned back off of her instantly, balanced on his knees and the balls of his feet. Hermione pulled out from underneath him just enough to prop up on her elbows as she glanced at the rug they were less than ten feet away from. She swallowed hard and rubbed the scar on her arm.
“I’ve never felt anyone hate me so much,” she whispered in a low voice and Draco felt his heart skip a bit inside his ribcage. “She hated me, Draco. She wanted to hurt me. She wanted to kill me.” She finally tore her gaze away from the black silk rug and found his ready silver eyes. The tears trickled over her copper lashes and Draco wiped them away. “I’m s-sorry… she was your aunt…”
“She was a monster,” he told her tentatively as he took Hermione’s face in his hands. “And she was wrong. You’re not…” He held her gaze sternly. “You’re not that. You’re not a…”
“Mudblood?” she finished and Draco winced. He shook his head.
“No.”
“Then what am I?” she whispered in a painfully small voice. Draco couldn’t stand it. It isn’t right for her to sound so broken. Not here. Not with me.
“You are mine, Hermione Granger. And you are the brightest witch of your age. One third of The Golden Trio. A war hero. My Belle.” More tears ran from her eyes and this time, Hermione wiped them away. She nodded slowly as Draco pushed to his feet and dropped his hands from her face. He extended his open palms to her. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. We don’t ever have to come in here, do you understand me? I can seal it off. I can fill it with things. Anything. Books, plants, artworks, statues, furniture… I’ll hide it away from you. I won’t let it hurt you ever again.”
Hermione slid her hands into Draco’s own and let him pull her to a standing position. She stared up into those wild silver eyes and grabbed him by his wrists. Carefully, with her heart pounding in her throat, she took a measured step backward. Then another. And another. She kept going until they were in the middle of the room and standing directly overtop the soft black rug. Above them was a chandelier, one that had been shattered into oblivion by Dobby until the magic of the broken curse repaired it. Draco’s eyebrows pitched un confusion as Hermione gave a soft nod of her head.
“Y-You said we can fill this room with things…” she murmured in a shaky voice and he nodded slowly to her as he brushed his thumb over her cheek.
“Anything you wish, my princess.”
“Fill it with us. Just us. Until it doesn’t hurt me anymore,” she told him softly as she leaned up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his own.
For a moment, Draco really did consider arguing with her. But then Hermione tipped her tongue against his bottom lip and it nearly buckled his legs from underneath him. Her fingers cupped his face, then ran along the slopes of his shoulders, then traveled down the lines of his stomach. She laced her fingers through his beltloops and pulled him to her until there was no space left between them. Draco’s desire battled with his will. He kissed her back- desperately and hungrily as if she were the last meal he’d ever taste. But his hands stayed on her shoulders, his thumbs pressing bruises into her skin. Hermione gasped around his tongue and grabbed his shirt on either side. She pulled the fabric apart until the buttons went flying in all directions and bounced across the marble floor.
“Hermione,” he whispered gently as she ran her trembling fingertips across his warm lower stomach. “There’s something you should know…”
“Hm?” she murmured almost dreamily, her body shaking and eyes glossy with tears. She kissed the underside of his jaw and Draco shuttered from the eager heat of her lips. “What is it?”
“I have scars,” he replied in a catching voice as she trailed her kisses across his throat. “O-On my body… from… the Sectumsempra spell…” Hermione pulled his shirt open further. “Some of them are bad.”
“I don’t care about that.”
“Hermione.” Draco caught her by the wrist as she pulled the top of his shirt apart. As the buttons clattered to the floor, he saw her brown eyes dart across his torso. From the small of his throat, all the way down to his hips were various cut scars. Some of them were barely noticeable, just thin strips of white across his skin. Others were deep, jagged and risen off his body in textured reminder of when Harry Potter nearly killed him in a bathroom what felt like a different lifetime ago. Draco watched, horrified, with his heart pounding in his chest, as Hermione stripped him of his shirt and let the black button-down fall to the floor. She took a step back to take him in and tilted her head to the side.
“Harry did a number on you, didn’t he?”
“I deserved it,” Draco responded, trying desperately not to flinch away from the heat of her gaze. “Katie Bell could have died. It’s a small price to pay for the intention of murder.”
“The intention of murder…” Absentmindedly, she ran her hand across the word that was scarred into her arm. “I suppose it is a small price to pay.”
“That isn’t what I…”
Hermione silenced him just as panic began to settle in. She closed the space between them, took his head in her hands, held him steady, and kissed him. Her tongue immediately found its way between his parted lips and the taste of her inside his mouth nearly levelled him again. Draco let Hermione run her desperate fingers across his chest. He was painfully aware anytime she touched one of his scars, but forced himself to stay steady and not flinch away from her. Then she broke the kiss just as Draco was starting to thirst for it. She left his blistering mouth and trailed her lips down his throat, across his shoulders, to his chest, then through the pale patch of hair that ran from his naval. Draco’s knees almost gave out again at the sight of her knelt before him, her doe brown eyes searching him.
“H-Hermione…”
“Malfoy,” she teased as she leaned her chin against his thigh. “I think you’re the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” she told him in a serious voice that contrasted the one she just spoke to him with a moment prior. She watched him as he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. It made her smile involuntarily. “Scales and scars and all.”
He chuckled at her, his pupils widening as she began to unzip his trousers. “S-scales?...”
“I wanted you as the serpent too, just so you know.”
“I think that’s kind of fucked up. That says a lot about you and how messed up your mind is.”
Her pupils sharpened at the challenge as she pulled his slacks down. “You have no clue how messed up my mind is. Or how fucked up I am.”
“Show me then,” he tossed back as color filled his cheeks. Hermione settled in on her knees, the silk of the rug soft against her skin. She stared up at him, her determination never wavering.
“Draco Malfoy,” she whispered as she curled her fingers around the edge of his boxers. “I am going to eat you alive.”
Draco felt his knees shake again. This time, he knew Hermione noticed it. It made her smile. “Hermione Granger, that’s well and fine.” He flashed her his fangs. “As long as I get to return the favor.”
His words landed just right and held the impact he wanted them to. He saw the chills race up her arms as she pulled his last remaining article of clothing down. Draco looked away, for some reason so suddenly nervous that he felt almost faint. Fuck, this is insane. We were just playing and now… I… His thoughts skewed. Everything shifted out of focus. Hermione took him in her mouth without hesitation and the soft velvet of her tongue immediately led him into ruin. His head snapped down as his lips parted just to allow the intake of breath.
He watched her in silence for a few moments, his predatory eyes locked onto her beautiful face as her jaws opened for him. She braced her hands on his thighs as he pulled her hair back off her shoulders and held the chocolate strands in his palms, the curls spilling from the cracks in his trembling fingers. Hermione shifted her head, tilting to the side as she found a rhythm that worked for her. He was… bigger than she expected. But not as big as she feared. It wasn’t incomprehensible. But… a surprise, all the same. She closed her eyes after a few moments then immediately opened them again in surprise when he pushed into the back of her throat and caused tears to well instantly on her lashes. She looked up at him and saw color immediately run Draco’s cheeks a nearly delectable shade of vermillion.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” he said in a voice that trembled with each word. The breathiness of it made Hermione shiver. She felt him push against her throat again and this time, it made her lurch. She pulled her head back just an inch or two, gasped for breath around her full mouth, then pushed him back in until she was alarmingly full. Draco’s grip on her hair tightened and it made her moan around the heat on her tongue. “Salazar’s might, is that what you sound like with your mouth full?... How am I supposed to endure when you sound like that?”
Hermione pulled her head back and gasped when the pressure left her. Her jaws thanked her with a dash of relief, but she kept them parted slightly, her lips only a whisper away from the tip of Draco’s heat. She tilted her head at him and smiled. “Just imagine how I’ll sound when I’m full.”
There was no stopping it this time. Draco’s knees buckled and he slid to the rug in front of her. He stared at her mouth for an achingly long time until he took her head in his hands, brushed his thumbs through the wetness on her lips, and kissed her. Hard. The kiss was all teeth and tongue and desperate, fiery sounds that made Hermione shiver. He eased her onto her back and pushed up the bottom of her dress until it was gathered around her hips and pooled on either side of her in waves of green and white. Hermione refused to let him pull away from her. Anytime he tried to break the kiss to even breathe, she chased his mouth and lured him back in with her tongue. He settled between her legs and she felt the heat of him pressing against her.
“D-Draco…” she whispered, nearly in agony from longing as he kissed tiny fires across her throat. She heard him growl in a way that reminded her of the first time she laid eyes on the serpent and it made her throb with longing as he clawed at the top of her dress to reveal her breasts. He made a sharp, hungry noise and took her left nipple into his mouth. Hermione gasped and arched her back with desire, spreading her legs to hopefully push him where she wanted him. Where I need him. God, I’ll die without it…
“D-Draco, please…”
“I’ve never done this before.”
His words caught her off guard. Hermione glanced down at him and saw those burning silver eyes absolutely scorching holes into her. She buried her fingers in his white hair and pulled on the strands until he was even with her again. His heat shifted between her legs and was dangerously close to slipping inside. She pushed against it and saw color fill his handsome face.
“What do you mean you’ve never done this before?” she asked as her chest heaved from the effort it took to breathe. Draco smirked at her, but she knew it was from nerves and not anything else. He held her gaze and gave a single nod of his head.
“I… I’m a virgin, Hermione.”
Her jaw dropped.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not!”
“But… But Pansy!”
“Never all the way,” he told her with a voice dripping with honesty. He kissed her once and the heat of his mouth made her absolutely throb. “We never got that far.” He held her gaze and tilted his head. “Weasley?”
She blinked in surprise. “N-No. We never…”
She saw his eyes darken just a bit. “Potter?”
“Harry?!” She looked aghast. “Oh, Draco, no! Not ever.”
“Anyone? Has anyone ever touched you?”
She felt heat fill her face and Draco’s pupils sharpened. She knew now that there was no lying even if she wanted to. “Viktor.”
Draco’s mouth twitched. “How far?”
“Not all the way,” she replied as she cupped his cheek. “I promise.”
“I believe you,” he told her as he kissed the small of her neck, just above her collarbone. Hermione’s warm skin and hot blood underneath boiled him from the inside out as she wrapped her arms around him and dug her fingernails into his skin. “You’re mine, you know.”
“And you are mine,” she whispered back as she arched her back once more, her stomach pressing against his own. Again, she felt Draco dangerously close to being inside her. Just a little more… She let out a soft whimper and released all the air in her lungs. “Prove it to me.”
Draco shivered in her grasp. Then, slowly, he pushed his hips forward. Hermione’s head dropped back as goosebumps littered up her entire body. Her throat exposed to him, Draco couldn’t resist the urge to bite. He took the skin across her windpipe in his mouth, dug his teeth in, and sucked. As he did this, he pushed himself in further and Hermione full on screamed from the combination of pain and pleasure. Her fingernails scored furrows into his back and Draco’s pupils narrowed at the bite of sharpness along his skin.
“Oh, Draco, oh my God, I…”
She was breathless, her chest heaving. He released the grip on her throat and Hermione saw stars in her vision as she stared into his haunting silver eyes. He searched her face from top to bottom, analyzing her expression for any signs of discomfort as he thrusted into her again and again and again. Hermione looked… insatiable. She had a feral gleam in her brown eyes as she pushed her hips up to meet him at every stroke. Only occasionally would she wince, but then she’d just smile at him and keep rocking herself against his thighs. He tried to slow down, but she chased his heat just as she’d chased his mouth. Draco felt himself already dangerously close to spilling when he realized she was hunting him.
“You’re a wild, carnal, pathetic creature, do you know that?” he asked her as he again tried to slow the thrusts and Hermione only pushed more tightly against him. “F-Fuck, love… Y-You’re relentless…”
“I’ve been dying for t-this for months,” she told him in a whiny, beautiful voice as she leaned up to kiss him. “On your back, Draco. Let me do it my way.”
Draco felt all the fight he had left in him instantly evaporate. He nodded and dutifully shifted from between her legs. He absolutely throbbed from the loss of her body and nearly wailed from the temporary lapse of satin. But then he was on his back and Hermione was seated on his lap urgently unlacing her dress. As soon as the fabric was loose, she pulled it over her shoulders and tossed it aside. Draco’s breath stalled in his lungs when he saw her bare for him once more. Her alabaster skin shone in the candlelight and her chocolate hair cascaded over her shoulders in copper ribbons. He took in every inch of her. Her breasts, the curve of her stomach, the slope of her hips, the shape of her thighs as they framed him. And then, he saw her pink lips crack in a playful smile as she adjusted herself and pushed him back inside her.
Stars exploded in Draco’s vision as Hermione tilted her head back and sang him a song painted in the sound of his name. She pulled herself up then slowly lowered back down again until he as all in. Sweat beaded Draco’s brow-line as he grabbed onto her hips and rocked her against him with as much force as he dared. He could already feel himself growing dangerously close to spilling as Hermione cupped her breasts and pushed herself harder and harder with each thrust. Draco’s breathing became labored as he admired the blooming bruises on her throat in the shape of his teeth.
“H-Hermione, I’m go-going to lose it, if… if you don’t slow down… just… a l-little…”
“But it feels… so perfect, my prince,” she replied in a sultry voice that made him throb. She tilted her head downward and saw the desperate look on his face. Hermione smiled at him in that nearly snarky way that she always used when she knew a spell nobody else knew. Or a secret. Or a wish. She began to slow her movements until the ebb and flow of her body on his was nearly unbearably muted. Draco stared at her, in awe of this woman, and lost himself in her chocolate-hued eyes.
“Granger,” he whispered her name longingly and Hermione leaned over him as her arms covered in goosebumps.
“Yes, love?”
“Let me taste you.”
She couldn’t mask the absolute shock on her face. “Right now?”
“Yes, right now,” he growled as he pulled on her hips. “I need to cool down. And I’ve been thinking of being between your legs since I tasted you on my tongue when I was still the snake. Please don’t make me wait anymore.”
“And what if I like to see you tormented?” she asked in a sweet voice as she dragged her fingernail across a long scar that ran the length of his left pectoral muscle. “What if I want you to beg?”
“Then I'll beg,” he replied softly as he swallowed down the saliva that was pooling in his mouth. “I'll get down on my hands and knees if I have to. Just let me taste you. Please, my sweet Belle.”
Hermione shivered. She nodded at him- only once. And that was all it took. Draco pulled Hermione off him, groaning from the loss of her warmth. But then he was guiding her up his chest and settled her just above his chin. Hermione sucked in a deep breath, her pupils widening as Draco flashed her a fang-toothed grin and dug his fingers into the already sore placed on her hips. She moaned softly from the delicious pressure and refused to look away as he bolted her into place and ran his tongue between her thighs.
“W-Wait. I…” Hermione wasn’t sure what she was planning to say next. What the argument was going to be. What she was even trying to tell him. It was all lost in the immediate frenzy that began when Draco had her in his mouth. His arms flexed to hold her steady as the pressure on her hips increased. She gasped and grabbed his wrists, her head falling back as he lapped desperately through the slick velvet and found her clit again and again. His lips pulled, his tongue sought, and his hands kept digging. Hermione couldn’t resist it. She pushed herself eagerly into every moment of heat, gasping and moaning and pleading for his tongue as it danced back and forth between lapping inside her and lavishing outside.
Draco was greedy. He knew he would be. I can’t fucking stop… Occasionally Hermione would try to pull away from him, whining that it felt too good, but he would barely let her have a moment of relief before he was locked in again. He drank from her and made sure she kept the supply ready to sustain him. Her fingernails dug into his wrists and drew blood, but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered. Nothing matters except her… I want to drown in her… He nearly was. Hermione had absolutely soaked his face and shamelessly kept pushing herself harder and harder against his mouth, even when she was sure she couldn’t take anymore.
And I haven’t even cum yet…
Every time she was close, Draco would switch his patterns just enough to let her fall back from the edge again. Her thighs would be twitching, she would be screaming, riding his tongue so hard that it caused his jaws to burn… and then he’d pull her back an inch so that the pressure on her clit was just short enough to make her lose the build. For what felt like hours, Hermione was kept in a perfect balance of blistering pleasure and tantalizing desire. Finally, she began to chase her high again and she knew this one was different. Draco was grabbing her thighs now and had her locked on his face so tightly she wasn’t sure how he was getting oxygen. He was panting. His breathing was so jagged that she wondered if he was going to spill as well. His silver eyes burned into her and she didn’t dare to look away as she shoved her fingers into his sweaty hair.
“Y-Yes,” she groaned in a pleading, hoarse voice that seemed to only drive Draco more wild. She heard him growl and felt the vibration on his tongue. It nearly pushed her over. “Fuck, yes. Draco, please, please… please don’t stop… Please…”
Who’s begging now? Draco thought desperately as his sanity frayed. He held her gaze as he ran his tongue through again. And again. And again. Hermione was frantically pushing herself against his mouth, sweat rolling down her body as she leaned back and braced her hands on his chest.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes… just… fuck… Draco… Draco… Draco!” she screamed and her entire body went rigid. She tried to pull away from him as a perfect wave of arousal ran into his mouth. Draco’s pupils sharpened into predatory slits as she squirmed in his grasp, but his grip only tightened. She kept crying out his name as she toppled backward, but he only followed her and kept drinking. Kept worshipping. Kept feeding.
At some point, Hermione stopped fighting his grasp. She stopped screaming. She resigned to a subdued constant whimper that left her lips every time his tongue lapped over her aching bud. She was shaking so bad that it was starting to jar his head. After what felt like an eternity, Draco’s mouth finally left her. He looked up from between her legs and caught her wild, glossy, burning amber pools. He smiled at her through the mess on his face and leaned back on his knees, his chest heaving. He ran his tongue, which Hermione now realized was longer than a humans should be, over his lips and tilted his head to her in a nearly innocent kind of way.
“You alright, princess?”
“Y-Your turn,” she whispered as she spread her legs for him. Color filled her face as Draco stared at her in disbelief. “Let me worship you. Come here.”
Draco moved in a way that was so fluid and so agile, it was nearly a slither. He just appeared over her, silver-eyed and glistening with sweat. He kissed her and Hermione tasted her love for him on his tongue. His tongue… which could nearly tip the back of her throat. His tongue- which lavished her and pulled desperate sounds from her lungs. Then he was inside her, buried in aching, yearning, desperate slick. Draco was nearly in ruins from the moment it began. And then Hermione pushed him over. Literally.
His back hit the silk rug so fast that it drove the air from his lungs. She was pushing against him so hard that it was causing stars in his vision. The sound of their lovemaking echoed around the room as he dug his nails into her hips again and brought cries of blissful pleasure from her lungs as she grabbed his wrists and buried her nails into his skin.
“H-Hermione. I… Oh my God…”
“Salazar’s might, is that what you sound like when you’re about to cum?” she teased and the snip in her voice nearly pushed him over. “Ooh, I cannot wait to find out what you sound like when you’re actually in the height of it. I want you to scream for me, Draco. Say my name, over and over and over again.”
“I…” Draco’s heart was pounding in his chest. His hands fell from her and he gripped his own hair as her fingers began to trace the outlines of the scars across his skin. “I-I will… I promise…”
“Pinky promise?” she whispered as Draco’s climax began to crawl from the furthest corners of his body. He looked down and the heat in her chocolate eyes nearly burned him alive. He dropped a hand from his hair and extended his pinky to her. She hooked it with her own.
“I p-pinky promise…”
“Good…” Hermione bit her lip as she pushed back against him and the warmth of her drove the breath from his lungs. She smiled at him. “Good boy, Draco. Right there. That nice?” He nodded, his words failing him as she traced a scar under his left pectoral muscle. “Is it going to make you cum, love?” He nodded again, more eagerly this time. “Oh, so good. So good. Do it then, my prince. Give it to me. I want you to so badly. But don’t forget what you promised me…” She let go of his pinky and adjusted so that she was sitting up straight. Hermione tilted her head, her brown eyes never leaving his face as she rocked herself against his hips. Again. And again. And again. And…
Draco’s nerves lit on fire. A fresh wave of sweat broke and rolled down his face as he felt himself fall to ruin. Hermione’s breathy moans filled his ears, burned in his veins like fire, and encompassed him. He felt her fingers trace his skin and her warmth drowned him. He didn’t even remember when he started talking or what all he said. But as his senses returned, he saw her smiling down at him as she rode out his climax with trembling thighs and flushed cheeks.
“… Yes, Hermione. Love, it’s so good. You’re so good. That’s it, princess. Right there… I-I’m still… fuck… I… don’t stop. My Belle. My Belle. Fuck, fuck, fuck…”
“Perfect. Perfect.” Hermione had tears in her eyes as she praised him. As the last coals of the orgasm burned out, Hermione leaned against him. She shifted and Draco was removed from her after what felt like an eternity of them being together. They both shivered from the loss of the other as she laid her head on his chest and curled against him. For a long time, neither of them spoke. And then, Draco turned his head toward her and kissed her forehead.
“You know,” he whispered. “I didn’t think our first time would be… in here…”
“It needed to be here,” Hermione replied with a small sigh. “I told you I wanted to fill this room with us. I took it back from her, Draco. I took back that moment when she had power over me. If this is going to be our home for now, I can’t fear any part of it. If I do… then she wins. And the curse is never really broken.” She ran her finger gently across one of the scars on his chest. She looked up at him and caught Draco’s stormy silver eyes. “I see you, Draco Malfoy,” she told him adoringly and he smiled at her. “And I love you.”
Draco’s breath caught in his throat. He reached down and gently took her wrist in his hand. He lifted her palm to his mouth and kissed the scar on her arm. He ran his gentle lips across every part of the word ‘mudblood’ and kissed all the harsh reminders of it away. Hermione had tears in her eyes as she drew his left arm up to her mouth and pressed her lips to every aching, ugly curve of his Dark Mark. When she was finished, she kissed him again and felt a warmth unlike anything she’d ever known eclipse her as he brushed his thumb over her cheek.
“I see you, Hermione Granger,” he whispered softly. “And I love you too.”
Notes:
I *really* wanted to make a version of Hermione and Draco where Draco wasn't... like a Slytherin sex god. Because this dude was a //kid// under so much stress, pressure, and fear... I feel like he didn't have time to fuck his way through half the Slytherin Dungeon.
I dunno. I think it's kind of sweet.
---
"The scars are a small price to pay for the intention of murder." The parallels of how they each view this statement is INSANE TO ME.
---
Draco and his predatory desires. L o r d
Hermione and her confidence. Damn, sis. Gimme some. ;x;
---
This carries over into the next chapter, just not as intense. Okay byeee.
Chapter 28: Taking Back the Manor
Summary:
{Hermione and Draco}
What grows in the ashes of Bellatrix's curse?
Something vibrant. And something deeply carnal.
Notes:
Heyyy. We're almost at the end. It makes me sad.
Anyway. One last bit of spice, hm?
I hope you like it.
Enjoy your journey to the stars. <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
{Sunday, June 9th, 2002}
“Draco… D-Draco, love, please…”
Hermione was helpless. She pulled roughly on his hair as sweat rolled down her face. Hermione shamelessly lost the battle that was constantly raging between her body and her senses. He was driving her absolutely mad with his tongue and had been pushing her into oversensitive oblivion for almost an hour. She gasped when he lavished her in a long, desperate, burning lick that ended with his lips wrapped around her crest again. Her eyes rolled under her lids as she felt sparks of nearly painful pleasure prickle across her skin. Too much, too much, it’s too much… It… it’s…
“Perfect,” she praised him with a smile as she tightened her grip on his hair. “That's absolutely perfect, my prince. Don't stop.”
He didn't. Not for a long time.
***
That afternoon they spent three hours in the dining room livening up the space with vibrant green plants, roses from the garden, and more of those twinkling lights. Draco had been standing on a ladder, using his wand to arrange ferns on a shelf in one high point of the room, when he caught her staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He chuckled a bit and glanced down with a mischievous look on his face.
“Yes, princess?”
“You just look so handsome right now.”
“I’m covered in dust and am wearing the same black v-neck I had on yesterday.”
“Black is your color,” she teased as she absently began to pull down the thin straps of her yellow sundress. “If it’s dirty- you should take it off.”
Draco’s mouth instantly watered at the sight of her shoulders. Then her chest. Her stomach. Her hips. Her… His pupils sharpened and he ran his tongue over his lips as his wand tumbled from his hand and clattered to the floor. Hermione stepped out of her dress and leaned back against the dining room table, a fire sparking in her eyes that threatened to burn him alive.
“Now Granger, how will we get anything done when you keep distracting me like this?” he asked as he stepped down off the ladder and pulled off his shirt. She shrugged her shoulders and as he unbuckled his pants.
“Your parents won’t be back for another week,” she teased with a crinkle of his nose as he slid into the readied place between her legs and claimed her beautifully bruised throat with his teeth. “I’ll distract you as often as I please… we have seven more days.”
***
{Monday, June 10th, 2002}
Draco tried with all his might not to give into his carnal desire. He tried, he really, really did.
But Hermione was wearing one of his Slytherin Quidditch jerseys and she had her hair pinned up out of her face so she wouldn’t get paint in the chocolate strands. They’d been in her quarters in the East Wing all morning adding Granger Marks (as the term was fondly coined) to her private room. Since they’d entered the space after breakfast, Draco had been so distracted by her that he’d knocked over a can of paint, painted over his own hand, and tried to paint with the wrong end of the brush. His attention span was fried. He couldn’t help himself, truly.
He knew she didn’t hear him coming. She rarely did when he didn’t want her to. The eerie, predatory stealth was something he’d retained from his time as the Serpent Prince and he loved to use it to his advantage on her. Hermione had just reached up on the tips of her toes to add some color to the window frame when he wrapped his arms around her, slid them up her shirt, and took her breasts into his palms. She melted for him instantly, the brush falling from her fingers as her head lulled back against his chest. His right hand coiled around her throat and the other snaked down her body to touch between her legs. She parted them for him immediately and smiled at him with that playful, snarky grin that always brought him to his knees.
“My sweet prince,” she breathed heavily as he ran his middle finger in smooth circles over her still sensitive bud. “Oh Malfoy, how will we get anything done when you keep distracting me like this?” she teased as she pushed her hips back against him and found him already hard for her.
“You're the one who decided not to wear bottoms and has been walking around with her arse out all day. You’ve been distracting me since the moment we woke up this morning, love.”
“Poor thing,” she taunted with another wiggle of her hips that made Draco throb with desire. “What will I do with you, you pathetic creature?”
“Anything you want,” he responded hoarsely as he felt her slick starting to soak his fingertips. “My wish is your command.”
“On your knees then, Malfoy,” she told him and he dropped immediately. She spun around, pushed her hands into his hair, and swung her leg up over his shoulder. He buried his face exactly where she wanted him to as she leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. “Good boy.”
***
{Tuesday, June 11th, 2002}
“So we’re agreed, we absolutely have to get things done today?”
Hermione nodded dutifully as she looked up at him with blurry brown eyes. Draco’s hands were full of her hair and her mouth was full of his heat. They were quite literally on the staircase to the East Wing, Draco lying on his back with Hermione curled between his legs as she pushed him into bliss. Again. For the third time today.
They’d been working on changing out the black, ancient rugs that ran the stairs of Malfoy Manor and transfiguring their color to a steady silver with green stitching. That was until, of course, Hermione knelt down to begin the spell and Draco had been unable to resist her on her knees. The other two times were entirely her fault though. She basically clawed his trousers off in the ball room and kitchen. I rather like a side of Hermione with my morning jam…
Draco’s fever pitched and he leaned his head back in ecstasy as he tightened his grip on her hair. “Yes, just like that… Please, don’t stop, princess… Don’t stop.”
She didn’t.
***
{Wednesday, June 12th, 2002}
As it turned out, christening almost the entire manor while also cleaning and Granger Marking it was quite exhausting. On Wednesday, Draco and Hermione didn’t get out of bed until nearly four in the afternoon. Granted, they’d been up since well before ten. Priorities- and all. By the time they raided the kitchen and prepared a much-needed supper, it was almost six. They took their dinner outside and enjoyed their meal in the garden.
Hermione watched one of the white peacocks peck at the ground as she sipped from her goblet of wine.
“Draco,” she said after a moment and he lifted his head from where he was trying to shove an entire plate worth of food into his mouth. She eyed him and then instantly burst out laughing. “Draco! We’ve talked about this. Small bites. You don’t have to use a fork, but you do have to chew.”
“Right. I keep forgetting. Old habits and all.” With color filling his cheeks, Draco sat the plate down and instead picked up a wedge of potato. He popped it in his mouth and dutifully began to chew. He nodded toward her. “What were you going to say?”
“I was just… wondering,” she replied simply as she lulled her head against his shoulder. “If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you want to go?”
He tilted his head in surprise. He leaned back a bit and stared up at the clear, blue sky. “Anywhere?... Not just Britain?”
“Absolutely anywhere.”
“I think it would be cool to visit America, you know? See all the stuff there. But really, I’ve always fancied the Caribbean. The sea is so different there you know. The culture and the temperature. I think it would be fun to visit.” He glanced over at her thoughtfully. “What about you, Belle?”
“I’ve always wanted to go to Australia,” she said immediately and then the reality of those words sank in. Hermione leaned forward away from Draco and uncrossed her legs. She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on the valley between them. “My parents and I talked about it a lot. We were going to visit one day together as a family. It was going to be my big trip with them after I graduated Hogwarts, before I went off to the Ministry for work.” Fresh tears welled in her eyes as Draco leaned up and wrapped an arm around her.
“Hermione, we can go get them.”
She turned her head toward him and sought his eyes. Those silver pools burned into her as he wiped her tears away. “Draco I don’t even know how I’d find them…”
“Lucky for you, you’re the brightest witch of your age. And I was top of my class before my life went to shit, you know. I mended a Vanishing Cabinet. Hexed an already-dangerous necklace. Took the Dark Mark at sixteen… I mean, that last one isn’t really a brag, but it’s something magically inclined that I did. Together, I bet we can find your parents. We can reverse the memory spell and bring them back.”
“Back to what though?” she ventured with a sniffle. “Their house is gone now, Draco. They sold it before they went to Australia. I checked. There’s nothing for them to come back to.”
“They have you to come back to,” he responded with such ferocity that it made Hermione’s skin tingle. “They can stay here for now.”
At that, she actually burst out laughing. “Here?! My parents stay here- at Malfoy Manor?! Godric’s glory, Draco, your father is still warming up to the idea of me being here and, as you said, I am the brightest witch of my age. If Lucius and Narcissa came back and found two muggles living under their roof- they’d lose their fucking minds.”
“Yes, well… plainly speaking, Granger, the manor doesn’t directly belong to my father anymore.” Draco lifted his chin. “As I am of age now, Malfoy Manor is mine. The wards on this land are ancient and the property passes to the next of kin on the child’s seventeenth birthday. However, whenever Malfoy Manor came to me, it was in the middle of the Second Wizarding War. Then you know what happened after. With that being said, I have more say to what goes on here than he does.”
“But I don’t want to disrespect him, Draco. Or your mother,” Hermione continued. “I would like for us to have a formal relationship and that can’t happen if we cross the line too soon.”
“It’s your family, Hermione,” he argued gently. “If one day we’re to be married, the Grangers will be tied to the Malfoys. Muggle blood be damned.”
The air between them thickened. Hermione stared at him, her pupils blown. Draco opened his mouth then closed it again. “If… If that’s what you want, of course.”
“What I… want?...”
“To marry me.”
Hermione swallowed hard. “I guess I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.”
Draco nodded slowly. “I understand. We’re still getting to know each other, after all, and…”
“I will,” she told him in a soft voice that punched the breath from Draco’s lungs. This time, his pupils blew. “One day. I will. And I think… I’d like to have children. Not eight or nine,” she said quickly and it made him laugh. “But a couple. A few. Like three.”
“Well then,” Draco huffed as his face filled with color. “Then that settles it.”
“Settles what?” she asked as he hopped to his feet.
“Let’s go get dressed for an adventure, Granger. We’re going to get your parents.”
Notes:
oh - my - gosh...
...
"On your knees then, Malfoy."
Draco- drops immediately.
DAYUM
Chapter 29: The Great Granger Expedition
Summary:
{Draco and Hermione}
Malfoy and Granger embark on an incredible journey to Australia to bring back Hermione's parents.
Notes:
Hey starlets!
Man. When I tell you I did HELLA research for this chapter. I had like seventeen tabs open the entire time I was writing this. A Nimbus 2001 can fly about 135 miles an hour. It's about 11,000 miles from Britain to Australia.
Yeah. I did a lot of work here.
Anyway. I'm pretty proud of it.
Enjoy your journey to the stars. <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
{Thursday, June 13th, 2002}
They spent the rest of the previous day getting ready for the adventure. They packed anything they thought they might need into Hermione’s little beaded bag- which had been given back to her by the Hogwarts Rescue Brigade upon their return home. They decided since it had been a long time since either of them had Apparated, the best course of action would be to fly. And that’s how Draco found out that…
“I hate flying!” Hermione screamed to him, burying her face in his shoulder, as they took off into the night.
***
Draco stayed awake all night to make sure they stayed on course. By the time the first rays of dawn were starting to paint the Romanian sky in hazy orange, his eyelids were too heavy to stay open any longer. They’d been in the air for ten hours and Hermione had been asleep for almost all of it, her arms locked around Draco’s waist and fastened in tight with a sticking charm. By the time Draco’s feet were on the ground, his legs were jelly and his brain was numb. He yawned and rubbed the itchy sleep from his eyes as Hermione plucked some items out of her bag to make them a small camp.
“Rest now, love. I’ll wake you when I’ve finished breakfast,” she told him and he nodded sleepily as he leaned his head against her thigh. Hermione chuckled and ran her hand through his hair. “Draco, I can’t make breakfast if you’re asleep on me.” Nothing. “Draco?” Snoring. Admitting defeat, Hermione snuggled in close to him, pulled the blanket over them both, and closed her eyes.
***
Draco slept for five hours, knocked back a Pepper-Up Potion, had breakfast with Hermione, then they were off again. This time, because it was the middle of the day, she had no option but to remain awake and watch the world spin by below them. Hermione snuggled close to Draco and peered over his shoulder to see the world facing forward as he was, instead of zipping by under their feet.
“When we stop tonight!” she screamed to him through the wind. “I’ll practice my Apparition to see if we can make this journey shorter!”
“What’s wrong, Granger?” he teased. “Hate flying that much?”
“Yes!” she laughed back. “But also my parents have to come back with us- I’m thinking of them!”
“Right! It’s all about them!” he taunted. Hermione slapped his shoulder playfully and immediately paid for it. Draco spun them around and she screamed with all her might into the burning, beautiful blue sky.
***
Another grueling ten hours on Draco’s Nimbus 2001 found them in Egypt. By the time they got their camp set up, the obsidian night sky was littered with billions of twinkling stars. Hermione and Draco laid on their backs outside their makeshift tent and pointed out all the constellations they knew.
“That one there, that’s Canis Major. You see that bright one? It’s The Dog Star. Sirius is named after it,” he told her and Hermione followed where he was pointing. Her eyes softened as he mapped out the constellation in the air with his wand.
“Show me yours,” she hummed and Draco’s eyes shifted through the cosmos. He flicked his wand and outlined the stars that made up the constellation he was named after. “Oh,” she said thoughtfully. “That one’s my favorite.”
“How romantic of you, Granger.”
Hermione rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder lightly. “I’m serious! I like it.” She was quiet for a moment then exhaled all the air in her lungs. “Will our children be named after stars too?”
She heard Draco’s breathing catch. “They don’t have to be if you don’t want. It’s a Black family tradition. Considering your history with my family, I… I won’t make you uphold it if you don’t want to.”
She turned her head toward him thoughtfully and kissed his cheek. “If we have a boy to be the proper heir, that one can be a star. Any others we have, I’d like to break tradition. If you’re okay with that.”
Draco cupped her cheek and smiled as he brushed their noses together then leaned in for a scorching kiss. “Anything you like, love. Your wish is my command.”
***
{Friday, June 14th, 2002}
Before they headed out that morning, Hermione did practice her Apparation and felt steady enough by the end of it to decide to give it a try. So, from Egypt they Apparated to Sudan, from Sudan to Kenya, from Kenya to Zambia, then from Zambia to Madagascar. From there, they took off on the broom again until there was nothing for miles around but vibrant, open water. Eventually, after an hour or so of flying, Draco landed the Nimbus in the middle of the Indian Ocean. Hermione focused all of her energy as they sat on top of it, bobbing with the motion of the waves.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked her gently. “I can keep flying.”
“Apparition is faster,” she replied in a slightly shaky voice. “So let’s just try.”
Draco slid his hand into her own and gave her an encouraging nod. “You’ve got this. You can do anything, you know.”
“With you, I know I can.” She rolled her shoulders and closed her eyes, picturing very clearly in her mind the place she and her parents always talked about going. She saw them so vibrantly- her mother’s brown eyes and her father’s blue hues. She exhaled all the air in her lungs. “Together then?” she whispered and she felt Draco hook his pinky with her own.
“Always.”
There was a loud ‘crack’ and they were gone.
***
Hermione landed on top of Draco with a squeal. He groaned from the sudden impact of her body on his as the broomstick slapped him across the forehead when it fell.
“Owe.”
“I’m sorry,” she coughed as she leaned back on her knees and looked all around them. “I think we did it! We’re here. We’re in Brisbane.”
“Brisbane?” Draco tilted his head backward and looked at the world upside down. He could see skyscrapers in the distance, but surrounding them on all sides in his present view was lovely vegetation and stunning flowers that made him ache with longing for Dobby. He’d have loved this…
“We must be in the botanical gardens.” Hermione pushed to her feet and wiped the dirt off her hands. She opened her beaded handbag and Draco slipped his Nimbus inside it. She turned around and around beside him, her eyes wide with excitement. “Oh, it’s so beautiful here! I just knew it would be.”
Draco’s expression softened at the sight of her so happy. He twined his fingers with her own and kissed the top of her head. “It is quite a sight,” he murmured, not talking at all about the gardens in Brisbane. “Where should we start looking for them?”
“Well, I don’t have a lot to go on, but I do have the names I gave them. Monica and Wendell Wilkins.” She gave his hand a little tug. “Come on, my prince. Let’s go on a hunt.”
***
By the end of the day, Hermione and Draco had checked nearly every dental office in Brisbane and had yet to find any trace of Monica and Wendell Wilkins. With every denial and turn away, Draco watched Hermione’s rapture drop more and more until she was entirely defeated. By the time the sun started to set, they’d resolved to sitting in a diner talking about their next move while Hermione sipped idly at a vanilla milkshake.
“I just don’t understand,” she said miserably as she speared the cherry that was floating on top of the ice cream with her straw. “They should be here. Do… do you think Voldemort found them somehow and…”
“No,” he said immediately as he reached out across the table to take her hand in his own. “No, Hermione. Don’t even go there. That didn’t happen.”
“Something isn’t right,” she whimpered, dangerously close to bursting out in tears. “Why aren’t they here?”
“Maybe they got a job in another city?” he offered with a soft smile. “Tell me exactly what you did with the memory alteration charm.”
“I erased myself,” she said immediately and Draco could have wept from the blistering agony on her face. “A-And placed in their minds that they lived here in Brisbane but were on holiday in Britain. I also gave them the notion that they needed to sell their vacation home immediately.”
“So do Monica and Wendell Wilkins have a house here?”
Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed. “I… I… didn’t think that far ahead.”
“Okay,” he said gently. “So maybe they came to Brisbane after selling the house back in England and didn’t have a home here. They’d have bought one then, right? You know them better than I do- what kind of house should we be looking for?”
“Something quaint,” Hermione replied immediately. “Nothing fancy. Just enough room for them and a little studio for my mum’s hobby. She paints birdhouses…” Hermione’s eyes were welling with tears. “D-Draco what did I do? I sent them here with no precautions and they could be homeless or jobless or dead and all I was trying to do was protect them…”
“You did. They’re still alive because of you, Hermione,” he told her with that fierce, stern voice that always calmed her nerves. “We just have to find them now, okay? And everything will be alright. Honestly, how hard can it be for us to hunt down two British dentists in a city of two million people?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” their server’s pleasant voice made Hermione jump out of her skin. She looked up at the curvy blonde with watery eyes. “But I heard you asking about a couple of British dentists? A married couple, right?”
Hermione’s lip quivered. “Yes, that’s right.”
“Oh, you’re looking for the Wilkins then! Yeah, they were my dentists for the last couple of years. But they relocated to Toowoomba and bought their own place. I still make the two-hour drive to them and it is so worth it. Their shop is on Clifford Street- right by the intersection. Yellow door. You can’t miss it.”
Hermione had tears in her eyes and found she couldn’t speak. Draco gave her hand a squeeze and nodded toward their server. “Thank you so much.” When she was gone, Hermione transfigured some galleons into Australian dollars, overtipped on their tab, and they left with a muted ‘crack’.
***
Hermione stared at the yellow door with tears welling in her eyes and her mouth as dry as sand. They’d been standing in front of ‘Wilkins & Wilkins Dentistry’ for almost half an hour as the day turned to night behind them. Draco gave an encouraging tug of her hand.
“Love, they close at seven. If we don’t go in soon…”
“If I stand out here long enough, they’ll close up shop, and step outside.”
“That could be hours from now, Hermione.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know,” Draco breathed as he leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “But you’ve faced worse things than this. You’re the strongest woman I know.”
Hermione looked up at him and saw nothing but adoration shining back at her in those gleaming silver eyes. She inhaled, leaned her head against his shoulder, and exhaled all the air in her lungs. Alright, Granger. Time to be brave. Hermione lifted her head up, nodded once, then turned toward the door.
They stepped inside and found an immaculate waiting area with bookshelves lined along one wall. Hermione couldn’t help but smile, tears forming in her eyes when she saw all of the evidence of a clearly thriving practice. Awards and praises were showcased in picture frames on one side of the room and personal photos of the Wilkins were on the other. Hermione’s tears spilled over as she stepped up to the pictures and saw countless memories of her parents. Except she wasn’t with them. Not in a single one. She touched the corner of one of the frames and stared at the image of her mother riding piggyback style on her father as they stood on a mossy hillside, laughing at the person holding the camera. Laughing at me. I’m holding the camera.
“Belle?” Draco whispered and Hermione glanced at him through her bleary eyes. “You okay?”
“This was from when I was six,” she told him softly. “We went on a hike near our house and the moss was so green, I begged for them to let me take a silly picture. This was the result.”
“Oh, honey…”
“Be right with you! I’m so sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. Greeting bell must have tumbled off again.” Hermione and Draco spun on their heels in unison and came face to face with a very pleasant looking man. His face was long and careworn and he had circles under his eyes. His irises were a gentle blue and he had a soft energy about him that was all too familiar. He came around from behind a counter, a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. He clicked the back of it and offered them a genuine, megawatt smile. “Welcome to Wilkins & Wilkins. I’m Wendell. What can I do for you?”
Hermione couldn’t speak. She tried and the words didn’t come. She just stared at him, lips parted, tears in her eyes. She saw something odd spark on his face, like he was trying to remember something he’d forgotten. “Say, don’t I know you from somewhere? Did I do work on you?”
“I had a cavity when I was seven,” Hermione murmured in a hoarse voice. “You filled it for me.”
“Ah! That must be it then. No bad luck with cavities recently, I hope? And is that an English accent I hear? What part are you from?”
“Wiltshire,” Draco said quickly when Hermione seemed unable to answer. “We’re from Wiltshire.”
“Well bust my buttons! I’m from Hampstead. Not too far away at all. What brings you to Queensland?”
“Well, we, uhm…”
“Is your wife in?” Hermione asked suddenly as she wiped at the corners of her eyes. “Or is she with a client?”
“Oh, she’s in. We’re about to close up for the night. Been a slow day. But I can write down a future appointment for you if you’d like.”
Hermione gave a small nod. “Right. Uhm. Granger. Hermione Granger.”
At that, Wendell froze with his pen pressed to the paper. He looked up at her with a confused look on his face. “What did you say?”
“She said her name is Hermione Granger,” Draco repeated and Wendell just stared at him as if he’d grown an extra head. He blinked slightly and gave a small nod. “Sir.”
“Funny, that is,” Wendell muttered as he wrote her name out on the paper. “My wife and I always loved the name Hermione. You don’t hear it much these days. We always said if we had a daughter, we’d have named her that. Or Jean. But Jean’s much more common, huh?”
“Yeah,” Hermione sniffled, trying with all her might to keep her composure. She was just about to break, or bawl, or bolt when she heard a door open somewhere she couldn’t see.
The sound of clicking heels on the hard floor made her heart skip a beat as a middle-aged woman with gray-streaked, chocolate brown hair came around the corner. Draco’s breath stalled in his throat when Hermione’s brown eyes caught on him. Salazar’s might, that’s where she gets it from…
“Hi!” greeted the woman warmly as she placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Welcome to Wilkins & Wilkins. My, you look familiar…”
Hermione couldn’t hold it back any longer. She burst into tears right there on the spot. She covered her face with her hands and cried as Draco pulled her into his chest. He shushed her calmly and kissed the top of her head as Wendell and Monica stared at them both in worry and confusion.
“Is… is everything alright, ma’am?”
“She’s just had a long day,” Draco replied simply, his gaze snagging on a movement as Hermione reached in her pocket for her wand. “We flew in this morning and it’s been a bit of a culture shock.”
“Oh, I know what you mean,” Monica told him in a sympathetic voice, although her eyes were still stormy with worry. “It takes some getting used to being somewhere you’re unfamiliar with! But if you two aren’t booked anywhere, the area here is very nice and there’s a hotel down the street that has the best breakfast around…”
Draco anticipated it a moment before it happened. He stepped out of the way and pulled his wand just as Hermione turned and pointed her own at her mother. He aimed his at Wendell. The married couple instinctively raised their hands, their eyes widening. Hermione’s father dropped the clipboard and flicked his gaze from Draco to Hermione then back again.
“What is this? Are we being robbed? Are you robbing us with sticks?”
“Please forgive me for doing this to you,” Hermione sobbed as she wiped the corner of her eye with her sleeve. Her and Draco moved together, flashing their wands in a half hourglass like shape.
“Finite Incantatem!” they said together. Red sparks showered over the dentists, much to their fear and bewilderment. Then they were very still.
Hermione’s wand arm trembled. She slid her fingers into Draco’s free hand and held her mother’s gaze. Slowly, bit by bit, the haze in her eyes started to clear. Hermione took a small step forward and blinked the tears off her lashes.
“Mum?”
“Hermione?”
“Hermione!” They encased her in a flurry of sobs, screams, and wails. Draco took a step back, smiling softly as he tucked his wand back into his pocket. Hermione’s clattered to the floor as she clutched her parents for dear life. She cried herself nearly into hysteria as her father wiped her tears away.
“Honey, where have you been? Are you okay? What’s going on? Why are we in Australia?”
“I… I’ll tell you everyth-t-thing as soon as I… can…” Hermione managed to say at last around her sobs. She motioned for Draco and he nervously closed the space between them with a dip of his head.
“Hello, Mister Granger. Missus Granger.”
“Oh, Melody and William are more than acceptable,” Hermione’s father told him as he shook Draco’s hand. “Any friend of our daughter doesn’t have to be so formal!”
“He’s not my friend,” Hermione managed as Melody kissed circles around her face. “He’s my fiancé. Mum, dad, this is Draco Malfoy…”
“Draco Malfoy?!” William snatched his hand away. “Are you the great little prat who called my baby girl a muckblood?”
“A mudblood, dad,” Hermione corrected and Draco winced when the word left her mouth. He rubbed his arm nervously and dropped his gaze.
“Yes sir, but I’m… I’m different now. I don’t… I don’t think like that anymore.”
William didn’t seem convinced, but he thawed a bit when Hermione slid her fingers into Draco’s own once more. She kissed his cheek then turned back to her parents.
“Is there some place we can talk?” she asked as all of the nervousness slipped from her body. We’re together now. It’s all going to be okay. “We have so much to tell you. And it’s such a very long trip back home.”
Notes:
The Draco constellation being her favorite. S t o p.
The reunion did psychological damage to me for some reason. It's such a happy moment. Why was I bawling.
One more to go. <3
Chapter 30: Happy Ever After
Summary:
{Draco and Hermione}
And they live happily ever after.
The end.
Notes:
Waaah it's over.
What a fun ride. <3
See y'all for the next one.
Enjoy your journey to the stars.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
{Saturday, September 14th, 2002}
“You look beautiful, Hermione,” Ginny nearly sobbed as she admired her best friend. “You know, white is traditional even for magical folk.”
“Yes, but yellow is important to me. And an important part of our story,” Hermione countered with a smile as she ran her hands over her silky golden down. It was nearly a mirror image of the one she’d worn when she danced with the prince what felt like an entire lifetime ago.
She turned on her heels and beamed from ear to ear at her little bridal party which consisted of Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Harry Potter, and Ronald Weasley. Sitting on a stool with tears in her eyes, her mother shook her head in disbelief.
“I still can’t believe you’re getting married so soon.”
“Mum, I’ve known Draco for over a decade.”
“He bullied you for seven years!”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “And now you love him.”
Melody tried to hide her smile and failed miserably. “And now I love him.” She pushed to her feet, crossed the room, and pulled Hermione into a tight hug. “I also love you, my sweet girl. I’m so proud of you.”
“I love you too, Mum. I’m so glad I have you back…” Tears welled in Hermione’s eyes as her mother released her and turned to head for the door. “I’ll see you soon!” she called.
“See you soon!”
Once Melody was gone, Ginny, Ron, Harry, and Luna were on her in an instant.
“She doesn’t know, does she?” Ginny demanded and Hermione shook her head.
“No, she has no clue. I’m not going to tell her until after our honeymoon.”
“You know, most people make a baby during their honeymoon,” Ron teased and Hermione gave him a shove. “You just skipped a couple steps to get to that part.”
“Shut it, Weaselbottom!” Hermione snapped but there was not a single drop of malice in her voice as she gave his shoulder a playful shove. “You’re just red with envy that this baby’s not yours,” she teased. Ron rolled his eyes and scoffed lightly as he ran his thumb over the engagement ring on his left hand.
“Right. That must be it then.”
Hermione smiled warmly, leaning between Ron and Harry as she ran her hands over the lower part of her stomach. She closed her eyes as she felt Luna and Ginny close in around her.
“I hope it’s a girl,” the former teacup sighed dreamily, which caused her boyfriend to wrinkle his nose at her.
“Nah, needs to be a boy,” Harry disagreed with a smile. “Everyone knows the Malfoys make whiny little boys.”
“Yeah, but this baby is half Granger,” Hermione teased as she glanced at herself in the mirror one more time. If one looked long enough, they’d just be able to make out the shape of a curve in her lower belly. She wasn’t showing too much yet, but the clock was ticking.
She’d known almost immediately. She missed her cycle for July and had never been late a day in her life. She knew. She felt it. When Hermione told Draco, he’d wept and praised her and adorned her stomach in soul-melting kisses. He, in traditional pureblood royalty fashion, proposed to her properly the next day (with her father’s reluctant permission, of course).
William hadn’t been excited in the least about the engagement considering he’d known Draco for a month at the time and still didn’t have the best opinion of him. But as the weeks rolled toward September and Hermione’s parents got a front row seat inside Malfoy Manor to the dynamic between their daughter and her betrothed, the ice began to thaw. They couldn’t deny it. Draco Malfoy was mortifyingly in love with Hermione Granger. And that was how it was meant to be.
Hermione smiled softly at her reflection in the mirror then turned to her closest friends. She exhaled all the air in her lungs and gave them a small nod. “Alright, Granger,” she said at last. “It’s time to be brave.”
***
{Tuesday, August 19th, 2003}
“Draco, love, have you seen my green pumps?”
“By the staircase!” Draco called from the dining room as he rocked their seven-month-old daughter in his arms. Hermione swept into the room wearing a black pencil skirt and an emerald green blouse, her hair pinned up out of her face, and with a nervous gleam in her eye. She stopped short when she saw her husband standing with Rose, his expression sickeningly adoring as he held a bottle to her lips. He looked up at her through his pale eyelashes and smiled. “You look stunning. You’re going to do wonderful.”
“Being the apprentice of Kingsley Shacklebolt is… terrifying,” Hermione admitted as she swept in beside him to catch a glimpse of their darling daughter. Rose had her father’s gray eyes and her mother’s copper hair. She kissed the babe’s forehead. “I’m going to make you proud,” she whispered as Draco brushed his lips over her scalp.
“You’ve already done that,” he told her softly with a smile. “I told your parents we’d be by today. I’m going to take her for a stroll with them after she’s had her breakfast.”
“Please Floo me if you need absolutely anything,” Hermione urged him with watering eyes. “This is the longest I’ll have been away from her since she was born.”
“You don’t trust me with my own child?” he teased and she rolled her eyes at him. “I’ll be fine. I’m excited for my role as a stay-at-home dad. Having a family is all I’ve ever wanted, Hermione. I’ve longed for this my entire life. You go to your big ministry job and I’ll take care of our Rose, hm?”
“It all began with a rose,” Hermione whispered adoringly as she kissed first her daughter than her husband. “I love you, my prince.”
“And I love you, princess. Have a wonderful day, Missus Malfoy. Go show the ministry what a muggle-born can do.”
***
{Friday, May 6th, 2016}
“Scorpius, would you stop picking on your sister?!”
“Dad, she started it!” whined a handsome boy of about eleven. He was the spitting image of his father with white-blond hair and gray eyes. Scorpius, who was wedged between Rose and Draco, settled back down in his seat and crossed his arms stubbornly. “You never believe me that Rosy starts it.”
“I don’t care who started it, I’m finishing it,” Draco replied curtly as he glanced over his left shoulder at his youngest son, Hugo, who was too preoccupied sitting backward in his seat talking to Lily Luna Potter. “Hugh, turn around and face the right way. Your mother’s about to start speaking.”
“You heard your father,” Lucius said sternly from Hugo’s left side and the little boy instantly swiveled around and corrected himself. He looked up at his grandfather with Hermione’s adoring brown eyes and leaned his head on his shoulder. Draco’s heart nearly melted as he watched Lucius wrap an arm affectionately around the child who loved him so. Of all his grandchildren, Lucius was the closest with Hugo. Something about that always made Draco warm and fuzzy inside, since Hugh was the one who looked the least like a Malfoy and the most like a Granger.
“Oh, she looks so beautiful,” Melody murmured in a husky voice from the other side of Rose. “Draco, you were right. Silver looks wonderful on her.”
Draco couldn’t help it. He smiled as he lifted his head and stared up at his wife as she adjusted her papers on the podium in front of her. She’d donned herself in a classy Gryffindor red dress, but all of her accents were Slytherin silver. Even her shoes. She exhaled all the air in her lungs, took a deep breath, and prepared herself to speak.
Alright, Granger. Time to be brave.
A hush fell over the crowd as Hermione glanced over at a very tired- and very relieved- looking Kingsley Shacklebolt who was standing loyally at her side. Her heart pounded in her chest as she licked her lips then lifted her head. She caught Draco’s silver eyes shining at her from the front row and he smiled at her with so much pride that it nearly cracked like static. She beamed at him, her cheeks filling with color as she tucked a stray piece of hair out of her face.
“Good citizens of the wizarding community,” she began in a shaky voice. “I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight to my first conference as the new Minister for Magic…”
Hermione’s voice was drowned out in the deafening roar of clapping, screaming, and cheering. The loudest of it came from the front and the outpouring of love from her blended family nearly took her to her knees. She covered her mouth with her hands and fought back tears as she stared down at her husband with a look of pure adoration on her face.
“T-Thank you, thank you,” Hermione said clearly as she wiped her eyes and tried to silence the room. “There is so much I want to say, and I feel like I have so little time to say it all. I’ll begin by saying that I am eternally grateful for all the support and mentorship I was given by Kingsley Shacklebolt. I wish him a long and peaceful retirement.” A small ripple of warm laughter spread through the room. “I also wouldn’t be anywhere without my insanely large extended family. I am so blessed to have my own parents here tonight, my amazing in-laws, my Gryffindor family, and of course my husband and children.”
Draco’s face burned brightly, but he couldn’t help but crack a smile when Hugo energetically waved at his mother and she waved back. Hermione licked her lips then continued.
“My time as minister will usher in a new era for the Wizarding World. This change is something we desperately need as a community. It will be a movement of union, peace, acceptance, forgiveness, and education.” Hermione tapped a reading card she had placed on the podium but didn’t look down at it. “As many of you know, I spent a lot of my earlier years in the Ministry in both the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures as well as the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. My efforts with these two factions have put a lot of wonderful programs into place.” She cleared her throat and gestured toward the back of the room where Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley, and Luna Lovegood stood in matching uniforms of dark gray.
“The Work for Werewolves Project has aggressively focused on ridding the Wizarding World of stigma surrounding those afflicted with lycanthropy. I’d love it if you would all give a hand to the leaders of that organization- Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.” A round of applause echoed and Hermione lifted her head proudly. “Another round of praise goes to Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, and Ronald Weasley for their incredible work in S.P.E.W.- an organization founded to help end the harsh and inhumane treatment of house elves.” Again, applause filled the air. Hermione took a long, deep breath before continuing.
“As many of you know, after the Battle of Hogwarts in 1998, a curse created at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange trapped Hogwarts, Hogsmeade Village, and Malfoy Manor inside the pages of a muggle children’s book- Beauty and the Beast. This curse was an after effect of Bellatrix’s single Horcrux, which she created by killing Dobby the house elf earlier in the same year. Dobby is the reason we continue to fight for S.P.E.W. We work each day in his honor to liberate others of his kind. Since the project began, the Ministry of Magic has helped over five hundred house elves find freedom, work, and purpose outside of bondage.” Tears welled in Hermione’s eyes. “Please, give a round of applause for Dobby. A little elf whose life- and death- changed the world. A world we now get to change for the better.”
The roar from the crowd was deafening. Draco and his family bolted to their feet, clapping and whistling as Hermione raised her wand in the air and gave it a swish. Behind her, a memorial for Dobby appeared on a banner toward the back of the room. Draco looked around and saw some of the house elves his wife had helped save were dressed in clothes, applauding and cheering as the praise grew louder. He turned back toward Hermione and caught her eye. She smiled at him adoringly and blew him a kiss. Draco caught it and tucked it into his pocket as Hermione began to speak again over the chaos of the crowd.
***
{Saturday, June 20th, 2020}
Hermione woke with a jump. She threw her legs over the side of the bed, yawned, and stretched. She hummed to herself as she pushed to her feet and strode over to her vanity. She collected a silver hairbrush from the desk and began to run it through her mane of thick, curly hair. She immediately decided it wasn’t going to go down easily and pulled the gingery strands back into a bushy ponytail instead.
“Hermione, dear!” came Draco’s amused voice as he called to her from the garden. “Are you awake yet? It’s nearly noon!”
Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes as she slid into her favorite green gingham dress and peered out their bedroom window. Her eyes softened when she saw Draco pulling weeds from the bed of roses that grew along the fence around their home. They’d moved away from Malfoy Manor and into a cozy cottage in Wales after Scorpius was born. They needed more room, for one… And they just wanted a home of their own.
It was a modest house, nothing as incredible as Malfoy Manor. It had five bedrooms- one for them, one for each child, and a library that doubled as a crafting space. They lived in a remote patch of woods on nearly five acres of land and had a beautiful garden that spanned nearly half their property. It was everything Hermione had ever dreamed of. And more.
She crossed her arms and leaned her chin into the valley of her wrists as Draco was tackled from behind by Hugo and the two of them went crashing into the foliage in a fit of laughter. As her husband and her youngest son rolled around in the dirt, happy tears welled in her eyes and she was reminded of a time, what felt like an entire eternity ago, when she’d longed for more. She could nearly hear herself singing as she spun Crookshanks around in her arms. I want adventure in the great, wide somewhere. I want it more than I can tell. And for once, it might be grand… to have someone understand… I want so much more than they’ve got planned…
Hermione nearly ran out of the house and into the yard, laughing the entire way as she added to the dogpile and let her boys swing her into the foliage.
***
That night after Rose, Scorpius, and Hugo were all tucked into their beds cozy and tight, Draco and Hermione sat on the porch and stared up at the stars. Hermione pointed to the constellation they’d named their son after as a smile played on her lips. “Would you hate me if I told you I have a new favorite?”
Draco chuckled at her. “Not if it’s that one.” He turned to her and brushed his lips across her cheek. They stared into each other’s eyes for a long time before Draco spoke again. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and smiled slightly. “Well, Hermione… I’m not a prince. And you’re not a princess. We don’t live in an enchanted castle with magical servants…” He brushed a piece of hair out of her face. “But you are the Minister for Magic, Missus Malfoy. And we have three beautiful children that hold every piece of my heart and soul. One of them is even named after a star. Have I managed to give you the life of grandeur that Belle always dreamed of?”
Tears welled in Hermione’s eyes as she kissed him softly. “A tale as old as time,” she whispered and she saw his eyes flash in the silvery moonlight.
“A song as old as rhyme,” he continued as he shook his head in awe of this incredible woman. “My beauty,” he said softly as he cupped her cheek with his hand. Hermione leaned into his palm and exhaled all the air from her lungs in a contented smile.
“My beast.”
And they lived happily ever after…
The end.
Notes:
God this end chapter was so sweet it nearly rotted out my teeth.
---
'WEASELBOTTOM' SENT ME. HERMIONE WAS DIABOLICAL FOR THAT.
---
Adoring personal mention in the first half here to my wonderful best friend, Miss RedwithEnvy<3 Always gotta mention my girl.
---
A gentle reference to 'Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being In Love' by isthisselfcare- mentioned in passing via wording.
---
THE RETURN OF S.P.E.W.
---
There is SUCH an impact of their first-born daughter being named Rose when, as Hermione said herself, it all began with a rose. How. Freaking. Precious.
---
Thanks for tagging along. I'll catch y'all later for the next journey to the stars. <3
Pages Navigation
Sucre Capsaïcine (ABoxOfMacaronsPlease) on Chapter 1 Fri 27 Jun 2025 08:02AM UTC
Comment Actions
Surrender_the_stars on Chapter 1 Fri 27 Jun 2025 05:03PM UTC
Comment Actions
Anything_f0r_0ur_Moony on Chapter 1 Fri 27 Jun 2025 10:17AM UTC
Last Edited Fri 27 Jun 2025 10:21AM UTC
Comment Actions
Surrender_the_stars on Chapter 1 Fri 27 Jun 2025 03:46PM UTC
Comment Actions
Anything_f0r_0ur_Moony on Chapter 1 Fri 27 Jun 2025 05:19PM UTC
Comment Actions
RedwithEnvy (Red_withEnvy) on Chapter 1 Wed 09 Jul 2025 05:36AM UTC
Comment Actions
Surrender_the_stars on Chapter 1 Wed 09 Jul 2025 05:07PM UTC
Comment Actions
(Previous comment deleted.)
Surrender_the_stars on Chapter 1 Fri 18 Jul 2025 05:56PM UTC
Comment Actions
Surrender_the_stars on Chapter 1 Wed 30 Jul 2025 06:53AM UTC
Comment Actions
(Previous comment deleted.)
Surrender_the_stars on Chapter 1 Thu 04 Sep 2025 06:03PM UTC
Comment Actions
Jeniferrsmith (Guest) on Chapter 1 Tue 25 Nov 2025 11:38PM UTC
Comment Actions
Breath0820 on Chapter 2 Mon 30 Jun 2025 06:19AM UTC
Comment Actions
Surrender_the_stars on Chapter 2 Mon 30 Jun 2025 06:30AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anything_f0r_0ur_Moony on Chapter 2 Tue 01 Jul 2025 07:12AM UTC
Comment Actions
Surrender_the_stars on Chapter 2 Tue 01 Jul 2025 02:59PM UTC
Comment Actions
RedwithEnvy (Red_withEnvy) on Chapter 2 Wed 09 Jul 2025 05:57AM UTC
Comment Actions
Surrender_the_stars on Chapter 2 Wed 09 Jul 2025 05:06PM UTC
Comment Actions
Anything_f0r_0ur_Moony on Chapter 3 Thu 03 Jul 2025 08:21AM UTC
Comment Actions
Surrender_the_stars on Chapter 3 Thu 03 Jul 2025 08:23AM UTC
Comment Actions
Surrender_the_stars on Chapter 3 Thu 03 Jul 2025 08:24AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anything_f0r_0ur_Moony on Chapter 3 Fri 04 Jul 2025 09:31AM UTC
Comment Actions
RedwithEnvy (Red_withEnvy) on Chapter 3 Wed 09 Jul 2025 06:29AM UTC
Comment Actions
Surrender_the_stars on Chapter 3 Wed 09 Jul 2025 05:06PM UTC
Comment Actions
Anything_f0r_0ur_Moony on Chapter 5 Wed 16 Jul 2025 06:10AM UTC
Comment Actions
Surrender_the_stars on Chapter 5 Wed 16 Jul 2025 01:50PM UTC
Comment Actions
RedwithEnvy (Red_withEnvy) on Chapter 5 Thu 24 Jul 2025 05:57AM UTC
Comment Actions
Surrender_the_stars on Chapter 5 Thu 24 Jul 2025 05:59AM UTC
Comment Actions
Surrender_the_stars on Chapter 6 Mon 21 Jul 2025 02:31PM UTC
Comment Actions
RedwithEnvy (Red_withEnvy) on Chapter 6 Thu 24 Jul 2025 06:27PM UTC
Comment Actions
RedwithEnvy (Red_withEnvy) on Chapter 6 Thu 24 Jul 2025 06:27PM UTC
Comment Actions
Anything_f0r_0ur_Moony on Chapter 7 Wed 23 Jul 2025 05:39AM UTC
Comment Actions
Surrender_the_stars on Chapter 7 Wed 23 Jul 2025 05:53AM UTC
Comment Actions
Surrender_the_stars on Chapter 7 Wed 23 Jul 2025 05:54AM UTC
Comment Actions
Anything_f0r_0ur_Moony on Chapter 7 Wed 23 Jul 2025 06:33AM UTC
Comment Actions
RedwithEnvy (Red_withEnvy) on Chapter 7 Thu 24 Jul 2025 07:05PM UTC
Comment Actions
Surrender_the_stars on Chapter 7 Thu 24 Jul 2025 07:09PM UTC
Comment Actions
Anything_f0r_0ur_Moony on Chapter 8 Thu 24 Jul 2025 05:35AM UTC
Comment Actions
Surrender_the_stars on Chapter 8 Thu 24 Jul 2025 05:37AM UTC
Comment Actions
Surrender_the_stars on Chapter 8 Thu 24 Jul 2025 05:38AM UTC
Comment Actions
Pages Navigation