Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

She who walks in Darkness	By : SheWalksInDarkness Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 5825 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: All characters and canon script of this Harry Potter fic are owned by J K Rowling and not myself, I make no money or profit off this fic.

Chapter List
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Stumbling on an uneven wooden floor she fell to her knees, the chest slipping out of her grasp and sliding across the room. Removing her wand from the strap attached to her leg she whispered “Lumos!”, always grateful that she no longer held the trace. She took in her surroundings observing that she was in a relatively small attic room similar to that of the Owlery at Hogwarts, certainly high up considering the prominence of the silver moon out of the arched window. Whilst the floors were wooden and the walls stone, there were hints of opulence suggesting the room was no prison. Great paintings and mirrors framed in gold looked down at her, their occupants watching with interest. Heavy brocade curtains outlined the arched window which, whilst broken, showed signs of once holding ornate stained glass that would have filled the room with colour when hit by the sun. A chaise longue upholstered in a light grey velvet stood in the corner, partially covered by a sheet and next to it on the wall an unlit lamp. She took a step towards it meaning to light it but as she did so a warmth caressed her face as if a caring hand had cupped her cheek and the lamp, as though preceding her thoughts, lit up casting a golden glow over the room.
Startled, she took a step towards the door, a thick wooden affair with a large pewter handle, reminiscent of something…the chest. She hadn’t originally given it a second thought, after all, weren’t portkeys simply pieces of rubbish, designed as such to avoid Muggles being interested in them? But the chest was different, it clearly wasn’t rubbish, neither tarnished or broken and as Hermione took a step towards it a clinking noise indicated the keyhole had turned and the latch flicked open leaving a tantalising gap under the lid where the contents couldn’t be seen but merely guessed at.
A moment of mirth hit her and she smiled as she thought back at the childhood fairytales she had been told, sitting on her father’s knee in his study as he led her through magical tales of Princesses and Beasts, chests and magic. After all chests were synonymous with treasure and as magic had proven itself to be real perhaps this could too. At the very least it was a welcome distraction from her previous troubles and as there seemed to be no immediate danger she sat on the floor, pulled the chest towards her and opened it.
At first she was filled with disappointment, it appeared to hold children’s clothes. Surmising that it could be a time capsule of some sort as Muggles were often fond of making or perhaps a child’s memory box as she reminded herself that, having been used as a portkey it was unlikely to be the property of a Muggle, she pushed her original disappointment to one side and set about carefully removing each item.
First came a delicate baby’s nightgown made of simple white cotton and hemmed in ornate lace, a cream velvet sash running around the middle. As she removed it she was enveloped in a warmth she could not explain and the scent of something familiar caught her senses. Whilst she couldn’t place it she felt more at peace that she could ever remember, it was as if she had suddenly been surrounded by all the care and love that those around her had ever felt for her. A gentle smile lighting up her face she continued her search bringing forward matching shoes for the dress, a handmade silver rattle engraved with runes and a small leather bound photo album. The album contained pictures of a baby small enough to be considered as being in its first days of life. Wisps of raven hair fell around its head whilst thick long eyelashes framed its piercing azure eyes, soft rosebud lips pouting in the centre of peachy skin. Some of the pictures showed the child alone whilst other showed it being held by adults or placed next to other children. Despite the clarity of the baby itself Hermione couldn’t make out the other figures. It was as if she was looking at them through the veil that had claimed the life of Harry’s Godfather Sirius, they were shrouded in mist and although enveloped in familiarity with small links shining through like a length of long white blond hair, a familiar laugh or a shock of black curls, she could identify no one. It wasn’t until she turned to the last page that she saw a profile of a witch gazing down at the baby sleeping peacefully in her arms, dark chestnut hair shot through with amber and gold, falling in waves around her face as a contended smile played around her lips, that she saw another clear being. Whilst she could not identify the witch she could identify the expression. The baby, whoever it was, was loved.
Reaching back into the chest for the remaining few items, Hermione’s heart was filled with an inexplicable happiness, she presumed just at the joy of seeing love truly defined. She pulled out a small black velvet jewellery box, opening it to find an ornate silver locket inside. The locket was icy cold to the touch, unnaturally so and refused to open distracting her attention momentarily from the last item in the chest. Noticing the remaining object from the corner of her eye she reached in one last time, continuing to hold the icy locket in her other hand.
The last object was an envelope, shrouded in dust and addressed to….her. With trembling fingers she opened it pulling out a sheet of thick parchment. As she pulled it out another smaller sheet fell from the envelope and drifted to the floor. Reaching out to grasp it she took in the hurried quill stokes scribbled across the page:
For your protection
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She who walks in Darkness