Short story, challenge entry.
An entry by Misdemeanor1331 of Hufflepuff to the Lofty Learning One-Shot Challenges: How to Charm Snakes.
Categories: Alternate Universe Characters: None
Warnings: Alternate Universe, Mild Profanity
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 5497 Read: 2662
Published: 10/19/09 Updated: 10/31/09
1. How to Charm Snakes by Misdemeanor1331
“Ms. Granger?”
Hermione was sitting at a large maple desk bent over a piece of parchment, her nose nearly touching the fresh black ink. She tucked a renegade curl behind her ear just to have it fall back into her face. How she could have expected anything different from her nearly untamable hair was uncertain “ she had only recently learned how to cope with it in England’s soggy climate, for Merlin’s sake “ but she repeated the action nonetheless.
“Ms. Granger.”
A few more scratches of her quill, some punctuation, and one perfect autograph later, Hermione’s instructions were complete. She sat back in her chair, her vertebrae popping audibly, and gave the missive a final read-through.
“Ms. Granger!”
In a fluid motion, Hermione gasped, drew her wand, and aimed it directly at the intruder: her rather nonplussed assistant, Andrew. She let out a tense breath and lowered her wand. “Andrew, how many times must I ask you not to sneak up on me like that? It’s not good for either of us.”
“That was the third time I had called you, Ms. Granger,” Andrew said with a smile, “and I believe you’re on the short end of the stick as far as health is concerned. I’m young and sprightly, just turned twenty-two and you’re…”
“Doing just fine at twenty-four,” she replied absently, returning to the missive. “But happy birthday, anyway.”
“Yes, happy birthday to me, yet you’re the one gallivanting off to France in an hour.”
“For work,” Hermione reminded him. “I doubt it will be enjoyable. All that note-taking and research and fresh country air…” She sighed dramatically and dared a glance at Andrew, who now had the good sense to look annoyed. Hermione allowed herself a smile; he was so easy to tease.
“Yes, that doesn’t sound a thing like your perfect weekend,” he muttered.
“Here are your instructions. Those should keep you busy while I’m gone.”
Andrew looked at the list, then at Hermione, then back to the list. Unexpectedly, he started to laugh. Hermione quirked her brow. “Is everything alright? Did I misspell something?” She snatched the parchment back, eyes frantically scanning her faultless script.
“No, no,” Andrew said between breaths. “It’s just that…Ms. Granger, you’re going to be gone three days!”
Now it was Hermione’s turn to look from the list to her apparently unstable assistant. “Yes…” she said uncertainly.
“You’ve given me enough work for an entire week!”
Hermione fought her smile and handed him the list. “You’ll have to put in extra hours, I suppose,” she shrugged. With a flick of her wand, her desk was locked, her cloak was in-hand, and she was walking toward the door.
“Extra hours? Extra…Ms. Granger, wait!”
Unable to keep it in any longer, she turned around, all smiles. “Kidding, Andrew. Just kidding. Finish what you can, but take the rest of the day off. Enjoy your birthday.”
If the ecstatically shouted, “Thank you!” was any indication, the look on Andrew’s face was priceless. Unfortunately, as she was already five minutes late for an eleven o’clock meeting with Harry, Hermione would have to see it another day.
The walk across the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to the Auror conference rooms was not especially long, but the volume of people who needed her signature, her advice, or the latest gossip made the trip daunting. Sometimes, running an entire department was quite a task. She checked her watch again: seven minutes late. She sighed and cast a quick Disillusionment charm, shivering as the cold-egg feeling dripped down her back, and wound her way past her co-workers. Only when she was safely inside the conference room did she break the charm.
“I’m glad to see you’re all assembled,” she stated, “and I apologize for my lateness. Now Harry, I understand your department’s work with Transportation is clandestine, but really, three personal days for an undisclosed experiment? Would you mind filling me in?”
Harry cleared his throat. “We’ve been running into some trouble rounding up the last few Death Eaters. They’ve become quite fond of casting Anti-Apparation wards wherever…well, frankly, everywhere. Our men can’t get within a ten mile radius of one without walking into a trap. So we’ve contracted some of our researchers and teamed up with Transportation to try to find an Apparation alternative.”
“Portkeys? Brooms? The Floo Network? Carpets? I thought there were plenty of alternatives.”
“But none with the element of surprise and the quick recovery time of Apparation. We needed something that could get us in and out efficiently and with minimal risk.”
Hermione nodded; the project’s rationale was sound. So far, so good. “What did your men think up?”
“A potion,” Harry said, barely containing his excitement. “I’ve seen trials of this stuff, Hermione, and it’s incredible! Lab mice instantly transported fifty feet away without so much as a headache after! A cat was sent to Scotland and wasn’t even woozy! There are no side effects that we can see, even with repetitive large animal tests!”
“How does it work? What’s in it? How does it know your destination?”
“Not a clue!” he said with a smile, throwing his hands in the air. “Not a damn clue! But I do know this: Hermione, it’s ready for human testing.”
Her breath caught in her throat. This was a huge step; she could feel her head becoming fuzzy from the adrenaline rush. “You’re sure?”
“They are,” Ron chimed in, clearly displeased. “I’m not convinced. Even less because of that fe-” Harry gave Ron a swift nudge to the ribs, earning a glare from the injured ginger. “Even less,” he started again through clenched teeth, “because of who they want to try it out with.”
A switch clicked in her head. “Me,” she stated. Of course: why else would they have requested she take three days off?
Ron was about to continue, but Harry interrupted. “So you’ll do it, Hermione? There’s no one better for the job. You’ve always taken the best notes and asked the right questions and-”
“And will need to approve its use before it can be produced en masse,” she finished. Indeed, the patent would need to bear her signature if it wanted to have a chance outside of the laboratory. “Though I would have appreciated being kept in the loop, there’s no one I would rather this be tested upon.”
Ron shot Harry a look which said far more than it should have. Hermione’s excitement dissolved into one stomach-sinking question: “Who?”
While the Transportation representatives chatted easily on the way to level six, Hermione and her two friends were silent. Harry and Ron knew who Hermione’s travel buddy was, there was no mistaking that. But she must have been having an off-day because she didn’t have a clue. She hardly knew anyone who worked in Transportation, much less their researchers! But as they exited the lift and made their way into a conference room cum laboratory, it was suddenly abundantly clear who was going to be accompanying her.
Hermione took a deep, settling breath. She could do this. She head of her department, twenty-four years old, and the brightest witch of her age. She could do this.
“Mr. Malfoy.” She extended a hand toward the fair-haired man, who turned away from his cauldron and did not bother to wipe the, “Dear Circe, why me?” look off his pale, pointed face.
He ignored her attempt at professionalism, acknowledging her with a stiff nod and an even stiffer, “Granger.”
Four sets of eyes, one of each color, flickered from face to face in a long moment of pregnant silence. Hermione eventually spoke. “What is your connection to the research, Malfoy?”
“My connection to it?” he asked in surprise. “Granger…it’s mine.”
Hermione smiled a bit too brightly. “Excuse us for a moment.” With sharp fingers, she grabbed Harry and Ron by the elbows and walked them out of Draco’s hearing range. “Why didn’t you tell me it was his project? Don’t you think these are things I should know before agreeing to be your guinea pig?” she hissed.
“We would have,” Ron said, “and I wanted to! It was Harry who-”
“We couldn’t risk your refusal, Hermione,” said Harry with another quick jab to Ron’s ribs. “What I said wasn’t purely flattery “ you’re the best person for this.”
“And someone will need to keep the ferret in check,” finished Ron.
Hermione huffed; this day had taken all the wrong turns. “You both are lucky I’m your best friend, but mark my words: keep me this uninformed again, and you will find yourselves on the wrong end of my wand.”
Harry forced a straight face, but Ron did not even try, breaking out into a wide grin. “You’re the best, Hermione.”
With a muttered, “I know,” Hermione walked back toward Draco, still smiling.
“Everything alright?” he asked warily.
Hermione waved off the question. “Of course, just a miscommunication amongst associates. But you think your potion is ready?”
“I know it is. This test is a waste of time.”
“How can you be so certain?”
Draco shrugged. “It worked on mice and cats.”
“That’s bad science, Malfoy,” Hermione frowned. She could see Harry flinch from her peripheral vision. Ron still looked amused.
Draco bristled. “You’re calling me a bad scientist?”
Now it was Hermione’s turn. This back-and-forth was really beginning to frustrate her. “No,” she said slowly, “I’m saying that your reasoning is flawed. Humans are more complex than mice; we have more to lose, especially when it comes to magic.”
“Your point?”
“This test is not a waste of time, and if your certainty is misplaced, it could be very bad things for us both.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of going?”
“Merlin, will you stop projecting meaning onto my words? I’m simply trying to state the risks of-”
“Of something I’ve been working on for three years?” Draco snapped. “Do not come into my laboratory and pretend that you have thought this through more than I have. No one has been closer to this research; no one knows what can go wrong better. So get off your high horse and just listen for once.”
Just as Hermione was about to volley her rebuttal, Ron laughed. “You should just pay up now, mate,” he said to Harry. “They’re going to kill each other. I just know it.”
Hermione glared at Ron, but couldn’t help feel that he was onto something. Five minutes in the same room with him and she was ready to hex that smarmy smirk right off his face. How was she going to handle three days?
“You both are set to leave in ten minutes,” Harry said. “Any questions, Hermione?”
“Several, but for now, three: What’s in it, how does it work, and how does it know our destination?”
“Secrets, all, unfortunately,” Draco said with a grin.
“You wanted me to listen, Malfoy, and I’m more open to that suggestion now than I ever will be regarding you. Plus, if you ever want your baby to have a chance outside the laboratory, guess who will have to review your findings?” Draco frowned; Hermione smiled. “That’s right. So I will repeat: ingredients, method, destination.”
To her great pleasure, he acquiesced. “Ingredients are unimportant right now. A dash of this, a pinch of that…The brewing process takes no more than a few days. It’s relatively cheap, too, so mass production should not be a problem. I’m still not entirely sure how it transports a being from place to place, but my theory involves the destination substrate and the will of the transportee to leave.”
“Destination substrate?”
“A complex series of runes meant to signify the destination. It took me forever to figure out the combinations, and there are so many subtleties that I have yet to set destinations for more than three countries.”
“And you’re sure that the one you’ve done will send us to France?”
Draco nodded. “It should.”
“Five minutes,” Harry announced.
“You said something about needing the will to leave. If that’s so, how did the cats and mice disappear?”
Draco smiled ruefully, holding up a badly-scratched arm. “I don’t exactly have a way with animals, Granger.”
“Draco, grab some phials,” Harry ordered. “Our men should be in place shortly.”
Hermione turned to look at Harry. “Your men?”
“We think the potion will send you both to a field in southern France, but honestly, you could end up anywhere in the country,” Ron explained. “That the thing about this potion, you see…it’s not an exact science.”
“Yet,” Draco added. “We get closer to securing a consistent drop point with each run.”
Hermione’s instinct kicked in; she wasn’t so sure about this anymore. “How many replications of France have you done?”
“Two minutes!”
“This will be the first,” Draco said with a wink. He shoved a beaker filled with sparkling, beige liquid into Hermione’s hands.
“What?” Her uncertainty solidified into a very bad feeling. Why it took her so long she could never say, but these men had clearly gotten too far ahead of themselves.
“Don’t worry, Hermione,” Ron said. “Just send us a Patronus when you land and the men in the area will collect you and bring you to your lodgings. Everything should work fine.”
“One minute! Are you both ready?”
Draco nodded. Hermione just looked at Harry like he was insane. All of this was progressing far too fast for her liking. “I don’t think this is a good idea. In fact, I know this is a very bad idea.”
“Will to leave, Granger!” Draco admonished. “Don’t screw this up!”
“Thirty seconds!”
“Harry, will you stop it! And Malfoy, this is a mistake. Something is going to go very poorly and…”
“Fifteen seconds!”
“If you don’t want to be a part of one of the biggest breakthroughs magic has ever seen, Granger, be my guest,” Draco spat. “I am more than content to keep all the glory for myself.”
“Ten!”
“I understand if you’d be too timid to put yourself at minimal risk.”
“Eight!”
“I mean, you’re more of a thinker than a doer anyway, right?”
“Six!”
“You’re probably useless in the field. I’d be better off without you.”
Hermione’s head, previously spinning with indecision, focused. It suddenly became very clear to her what she had to do. With a mean look at Draco, her resolved steeled.
“Three…Two...”
“Bottom’s up, Granger,” Draco said with a grin.
“One!”
The effect was almost instantaneous. As soon as the potion hit her lips, Hermione could feel them dissipate. It was a strange phenomenon, but it was even stranger to watch her hands disappear. Her flesh failed to grasp the beaker any longer. It fell to the floor and shattered at her feet, but her legs were not even scratched. Her legs were not even there.
Even stranger than disappearing was the sensation of being in two places at once. Though there was no pain, her consciousness was literally torn between the laboratory and her destination. She experienced awareness in both places but, if asked, she could not have said what was happening in either. Hermione simply knew she was there, like in a dream.
Though it felt like a millennia, the transportation must have been very swift. Already, she was regaining her sense of smell. And France smelled…like petrol? Not at all like the field in which they should have landed, at any rate. Her reforming heart skipped a beat: what if they landed in the city? What if they were seen? She could hear, distantly, the sound of traffic and the bustle of life. She willed her body to move, to hide, but it did not yet have all its pieces.
Another millennia and Hermione regained her sight. Once she opened her eyes, the rest of her body fell into place with a snap. Her mouth dropped open and she struggled for air: they had most certainly not landed in France.
They had landed upon a rooftop in what Hermione thought was most likely India. The intense afternoon sun, the unique architecture, and the slum city she could see in the distance from her perch upon a rather tall skyscraper seemed to support her theory.
“Granger! What the hell did you do?” Draco marched toward her, silver eyes livid and mouth set into a deep snarl.
“What did I do? What did you do?” Hermione screamed, rounding on him. “It was your bloody potion! I believe I was the one telling you it was a bad idea!”
“I wasn’t the one having second thoughts about leaving! I told you, Granger: intention! You messed everything up!”
“If I messed it up, Malfoy, then why are you here, too? Obviously, your shoddy wandwork is at fault! You’ve never tried France before…” she muttered. “Honestly! Who commits to a human trial on the first replication!”
“Send Potter your bloody Patronus and tell him where we are. I don’t want to be here with you one more second than is absolutely necessary,” Draco growled.
“Agreed,” Hermione spat. She withdrew her wand and, though it took some time to find a happy memory with all the hatred currently coursing through her veins, summoned one strong enough to produce a Patronus. She said the incantation but was shocked to see that nothing happened. A flutter of fear danced around her heart, but she ignored it. Refocusing, she tried again. Nothing.
“Lost your will to do magic too, Granger?” Malfoy taunted. “I was right: you are useless.”
“Oh, you do it, then!” she screamed, sheathing her wand. “It’s no wonder I can’t! Being around you disintegrates every happy memory I’ve ever had!”
“Well, seeing you this aggravated is sure to be brilliant fuel for mine!” he retorted. Hermione watched expectantly as he tried, and failed, to produce a Patronus.
“Finding out you may not be as useful as you think, Malfoy?” Hermione jeered.
“That is it, Granger!” Quick as a snake, Draco lashed his wand toward her. Just as swiftly, Hermione brought hers up in protection, expecting to feel the power of Draco’s hex upon her shield. But she felt nothing. In fact, she was quite sure that her wand hadn’t even produced a spark.
Their bodies froze in action “ Draco the paragon of hostility, Hermione crouching in defense “ but despite their battle stances, neither face showed the slightest hint of aggression. Slowly, Hermione lowered her wand and straightened.
“Do that again,” she ordered quietly, her heart beating faster. Eyes wide with fright, Draco lashed out again. This time, Hermione did not bother putting up a shield. She didn’t have to, because nothing happened. She didn’t have to, because her worst fear was suddenly confirmed: their magic was gone.
The world around her blurred and her head spun. “I need to sit down…” she mumbled to no one. Robotically, she lowered herself to the ground, her wand “ or rather, her useless piece of wood “ dropping to the ground beside her. She said nothing. She heard nothing. For a moment, she was nothing. Her magic was gone. All that had bound her to the world which she loved, to the people she held most dear, had vanished. And it had vanished because…because of…
Hermione looked up.
Malfoy.
Had Hermione been looking at Draco the man, she would have seen someone utterly destroyed. She would have seen the blood leave his face and the spark disappear from his stormy eyes. She would have been able to read the emotions flickering across his lips, transmitted in twitches “ disbelief, rage, misery, hopelessness. She would have understood what this meant for him “ that he was no better than a Muggle “ and that this could not have happened at a worse moment in his life or with a more detestable companion.
But Hermione did not see Draco the man. She saw Malfoy the villain. His unfeeling, metallic eyes read defiance. His mouth said apathy and blame. She did not see him realize that he was helpless without her or how much he already loathed his complete dependence upon her. She did not see him lift his eyes to the heavens to pray to whatever deity that she would still help him, even after he ruined her life. She saw none of this, and the picture burned its way into the small chunk of heart which still remained.
Shock.
Successive and increasingly catastrophic realizations.
Frantic searching for a lost explanation.
Nothing.
Nothing but Draco’s heart pounding in his ears, the swift tattoo irregular and frightening; his shallow and sporadic breathing, audibly entering and leaving his lungs; every hair on his body standing at attention; senses sharpening to hawk-like accuracy. His body was prepared for action; Draco followed his instincts.
The only remaining rational part of his mind reminded him of the woman.
Survival.
The woman.
He needed her.
He pulled her up by her arm, encountering no resistance. Still gripping her forearm, he tried to drag her along, but now the small woman would not budge. He tried to look at her, but his eyes would not cooperate: all they could see was the closest exit, the fastest way to get off of the roof and onto the ground. Broken sentences, a clumsy tongue. “Can’t stay. Explanation. Can’t stay.”
Faintly, as if through cotton. “Where will we go?”
Draco shook his head. “Down. Doesn’t matter. Solution. Can’t stay.”
The woman hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
His body moved on its own, forcing open a door, running down innumerable flights of stairs, and finally bursting out of the lobby into the busy India street. Ground floor: his body was appeased. Draco stopped for a long moment, releasing his grip on the woman and reassembling himself for the second time in twenty minutes, remembering how to breathe, how to see, where he was, how he got there, and who he was with.
He looked at Hermione. “Where will we go?”
She seemed to have regained some presence of mind as well. “A park,” she said. “Anywhere I can sit and think.”
Draco nodded. A park “ as good of a suggestion as any. He looked around and, in an amazing stroke of luck, saw a well-manicured strip of land with a few trees just a few hundred yards away. He grabbed her hand and, together, they navigated across busy streets and weaved between vendors and rushing pedestrians. Once protected from view by a thicket, Hermione collapsed against a tree and held her head in her hands. Draco looked down at her and never realized that she could look so small…so defeated. His heart wrenched and he sat across from her, waiting.
After many minutes of silence, she spoke. “I’m overwhelmed. I don’t have any Muggle money. I don’t speak…whatever they are speaking. I don’t know any Wizarding cities here. I don’t even know where I am.” Her voiced was choked with a poorly-restrained sob. “I don’t even know where I am and the only people who know I’m gone only know where I’m not.” Her tears flowed freely; Draco had to clench his fist to keep from wiping them away.
The guilt crept up on him, but once it arrived, it settled in. He was the cause of this. He had bullied her into coming with him, yet he hadn’t even wanted her company in the first place. He did it because he wanted to see her give up. He wanted to see her back down and then regret the decision. He wanted to hear her say, “You were right, Malfoy,” and give him the credit he felt he deserved. But this…he wouldn’t wish this on anyone, not even Potter.
He was such a selfish idiot.
He had to make this better, for both of them.
“What do we know?” he asked. Hermione was silent. “Come on, Granger,” he said gently, “we were the best two in our class. We can figure this out. We have to go through it methodically. What do we know?”
“We know our magic is…”
Draco cut her off. He didn’t want to think about that right now. “Yes. What else?”
She wiped her eyes. “There are at least two people looking for us. We’re somewhere in Asia, my guess is India, but where in India I have no idea. We have no resources.”
“Not quite. We are both capable, and you have the bonus of being a Mu-”
“Don’t even say it, Malfoy!” Hermione yelled. “Not right now! Don’t even!”
“A Muggle by birth,” he finished quietly. Hermione put her head back in her hands. “You know how these people work, to a certain extent, and I’m quite the con when necessity calls. Together, we might be able to collect enough money for rail tickets back to Europe, or at least to a country that speaks some English.”
“So, we should find a rail station,” Hermione ventured. “Once we know the cost of the tickets, we can work on acquiring the proper funds.”
“Sounds good to me. Let’s go.”
“Wait, Malfoy. What about our…” Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath. “What about our magic?”
Draco stilled. “What about it?”
“It…it might be permanent, but it might not be, too. What if the potion just needed a little more power to transport a human and used our magic as a catalyst or something? I mean, that’s possible, right?”
“I suppose it is,” he shrugged. “Anything is.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s been an hour since we’ve landed. Wands out?”
Hermione nodded. “On three. One, two…” Two wands swished silently in their private copse. Two minds sunk a little further into despair.
“Come on,” Draco sighed, sheathing his wand. “We need to find a rail station and maybe some food before dark.”
“What time do you think it is?”
Draco shrugged. “Mid-afternoon, judging by the sun. Regardless, we need to get moving.” Rising to his feet, he helped her up and, as before, kept her hand in his. As silly as it sounded, he needed her touch to keep him sane. Even sillier, judging by how she curled her fingers around his palm, she needed his just as much.
For hours, they walked around the city, asking every vendor and passerby for directions to the nearest rail station. Most did not speak English; those that did had no idea. Every hour, they would slip into an alley and attempt a spell, always to be met with disappointment. By late afternoon, their luck finally changed. Hermione had spotted a group of French tourists and Draco, with the help of pantomimes and very rudimentary French, acquired directions to the rail station.
“Well, the good news is that it’s just outside of the city,” he told Hermione. “The bad news is that we are on the wrong side.”
Hermione sighed. “It’s better than nothing, I suppose.” With a hasty, “Merci” to their French aides and handshakes all around, the duo headed back into the city with a crudely drawn map and, to Hermione’s great surprise, a few rupees.
“What a way to be repaid for their trouble…” she monotoned.
Draco’s stomach chose that moment to voice its opinion. “Necessity called.”
They ate quickly and were back on their way again, walking swiftly in an attempt to reach the station before sunset. With another well-timed stroke of luck, they did. After talking to the man behind the counter, and discovering that the price was much higher than either anticipated, Hermione collapsed on a bench in the deserted lobby while Draco paced in front of her.
“I’m beginning to think this is a lost cause, Malfoy.”
“Why would you think that?” he mumbled, chewing on his thumbnail. “We made it here, didn’t we?”
“After an entire day of searching.”
“We needed a period of orientation. Toorrow will go smoother.”
“But what if it doesn’t?”
Draco stopped pacing. “We cannot afford to think like that, Granger. We will get the money. We will get back home. We will figure this out. Do I make myself clear?”
Hermione bristled. “Don’t use that tone with me, Malfoy. I’ve been through a lot today and I don’t need that kind of negativity.”
“Oh, and your pessimism is fine where it is? We’ve been through the same thing today, Granger, so don’t get all high and mighty on me now.”
“High and mighty? What the devil is that supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what it means!” Draco hissed. “That insufferable holier-than-thou bit you carry around and, currently, the gross misconception that you’ve suffered more and thus know more than anyone else!”
“I do not think that!” Hermione shouted, leaping up from the bench. “But what I do know is that I am the one who said before this even began that it was a bad idea! I know that I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for your damned arrogance!”
“My arrogance? Who was the one eager to prove that she wasn’t a timid little dormouse, huh?”
“And who was the one so confident that his stupid little substrate would send us to France?” Hermione’s rant had reached a crescendo and her face flushed with rage. “Face it, Malfoy: you alone are responsible for this entire fiasco! You are the one who stripped us of our magic and stranded us in the middle of Asia!”
Suddenly, from behind her, came a very loud hiss.
Hermione froze, the blood draining instantaneously from her cheeks. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is,” she whispered, barely daring to move her lips.
Slowly, Draco shifted to his right. A cobra sat on the bench exactly where Hermione had been sitting not one minute ago. It stood as tall as she did, hood out, and hissed again, black tongue tasting the air.
“Hermione…” Draco said, inching for his wand. “Hermione, please…do not move.” A tear dripped down her face as she gave a small nod. He pointed his wand at the snake, which seemed to rear back in anticipation. Calling upon every deity that ever existed, he whispered, “Evanesco.” With a whoosh more silent than the footstep of a ghost, the snake was gone.
In a split-second, Draco saw Hermione’s eyes roll up into the back of her head. In the other half of that second, his arms were around her, crushing her to him instead of letting her crash to the floor. Gently, he sat her upon the bench, where her warm brown eyes fluttered open, full of confusion and unshed tears. Her entire body shook as she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.
“Thank you, Draco.”
“You’re welcome.” He returned her embrace, letting his cheek rest atop her head. “I’m sorry about today,” he said after a moment. “It was all my fault. Things just got out of hand and…I just…I didn’t expect...” Hermione loosened her grip so that she could look him in the eye; he could only hold her gaze for a second. “Hermione, I’m so sorry,” he finished quietly.
Unexpectedly, her hand caressed his cheek, gently lifting his head so that their eyes met once more. Her smile was warm and angelic, her eyes were soft, and her voice was music to his ears. “I forgive you, Draco.”
This time, he pulled her into an embrace, burying his head in the crook of her neck and closing his eyes, relishing the feeling of forgiveness. It was rare for him, to have the burden of guilt lifted from his shoulders. He did not realize until then just how heavy it was.
After a long moment, he pushed her away to glance at his watch. “Six hours,” he sighed. “Would you care to do the honors?”
Hermione gave him another smile and nodded. Drawing her wand and not hesitating for a moment, she sent her otter Patronus off into the distance.
She sheathed her wand and sat back on the bench with Draco, who slung his arm around her shoulders. “Quite a day, eh, Hermione?” he murmured.
Hermione gave a small chuckle, rested her head on his arm, and sighed. “Yes Draco, quite a day.”