How To Train Your Auror 2: Family Ties | By : Alcoholic_Rootbeer Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 7990 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I will not make a profit from this story |
So, this new chapter was a lot of fun to write. I should have the next one up pretty soon. Waymay came for a visit this weekend, and it was a special experience I will hold dearly in my heart. It's amazing, really, how Harry Potter can help you discover the friends worth having. We're going to Harry Potter World in a month. Should be lots of fun! Thanks, waymay, for proofing this for me after staying up half the night and traveling! Bad ass mutha luva right there.
Hope you love this chapter as much as I do.
~A.
Clear blue water, high tide came and brought you in
And I could go on and on, on and on, and I will
Skies grew darker, currents swept you out again
And you were just gone and gone, gone and gone
In silent screams,
In wildest dreams
I never dreamed of this
This love is good, this love is bad
This love is alive back from the dead
These hands had to let it go free
And this love came back to me
"This Love" by Taylor Swift
"Ron…"
For all the moments in the world, Hermione could never have been prepared for the devastating, chaotic force that was fate. For it was fate which brought her fallen husband back to her, once more, to smile at her in just that way. Like he was truly alive, standing in front of her with his head tilted so.
"You alright, Mione?" He flashed her a set of teeth as his eyebrows drew up in concern: a perfectly conflictual conundrum wrapped in a pretty paradox. "You look like you've seen Nearly Headless Nick without his trousers on."
Her mouth went dry. Words escaped her. All she could do was take off at a dead run in his direction, despite knowing the truth; none of this was real. She flung her arms out and wrapped them so tight around his torso he groaned upon impact, though he did give a small chuckle as he, too, met her with affection. His hands rubbed up and down her back soothingly -and it felt so real. As real as Draco's hand in hers not an hour before. He smelled real, like his godawful cologne his mother purchased him nearly every Christmas, mixed with sweat and coffee grounds. He sounded real when he tucked his head low and whispered against her ear, "Did… Did I do something wrong?"
Finally, her voice found its way back to her throat as hot tears spilled down her cheeks. "I've… I've just missed you, is all."
Ron pressed her closer to him, chuckling softly. "Last night's sex that good, I take it?"
She laughed, nuzzling closer into his shirt while trying to remember every precious detail in all its splendor. "You always know how to make me laugh."
"I'm honestly not sure if I take that as a compliment or an insult."
"It's a compliment," she pried her face away and stared into his brilliantly blue eyes, "obviously." This reflection even had every subtle freckle Ron ever wore. It captured the unevenness of his smile, how he would smile just a bit more on his right side than his left. Hermione swiped at her tears and sniffled into the back of her hand. "Sorry… for the tears. I-" she gathered her excuse quickly, "-think I'm feeling a bit under the weather today."
Ron reached up and cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb over her cheekbone lightly. "For a moment there, I thought I royally screwed up."
Hermione shook her head, leaning into his touch. "No. I'm just happy to see you again."
Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. The sound of boots across a marble floor brought the two out of their own little world. "Er… Weasley." Diggle approached the two, still keeping a healthy distance. There was a shaken edge to his voice, and who could blame him? It must have felt right awkward to stand before the man he murdered, alive in the flesh -so to speak.
"Join us for lunch, Diggs? You look a bit pale."
"There's a reason for that," Diggle muttered, rubbing his fingers down the clean shaven skin of his chin. He eyed Ron over with great interest -and if he weren't being blatantly obvious, Hermione would have found it rather comical. Finally, he settled on a forced smug expression and countered his awkwardness with, "Thai sound good to you, Weasley? My treat -apparently, I've been promoted."
"So, how does it work?" Draco asked, brandishing the sword outwards in the middle of the vault. "This Resurrection Stone."
"Erm…" Potter cleared his throat, still staring at the stone. "You focus on the one you lost and touch the stone. Very point and swish."
"By the look on your face, one can assume you've used this before?"
"Yeah…" His green eyes dropped to the floor, focused on anything else. "Admittedly, it's sort of hard to put down once you start."
Draco stared down at the hilt of the sword, contemplating giving it a go himself. Who would he see, if he simply touched the stone without focus? Crabbe? Bolt? One of the many friends he lost in the Second War? Would he see his grandmother? A thought crystallized before him -what if he saw Weasley? They were never close… "Can you see… anyone with the stone?"
"Loved ones."
"Loved ones…" Draco repeated. "So… how is it Diggle raised my grandfather, then?"
Potter's head shot up, and he narrowed his eyes. "That's a question now, isn't it? Diggle hates your family. He shouldn't have been able to summon Abraxas."
Could it be possible? Could this Abraxas Malfoy not be Draco's grandfather at all? There was only one way to tell. "I have to try out the stone."
"Malfoy," Potter began, "That's a dangerous game. Believe me, it'll hurt more than you think. It isn't like seeing them in the flesh. There's a… it's like peering through a veil. They're there, but they're not."
"Still…" Draco tilted his head down, staring at the stone. "We have to see if it is, in fact, my grandfather -or an imposter." He swallowed a large lump in his throat and cleared it. "Will you see what I see?"
Harry -Draco guessed he could call him Harry in his mind, now, seeing as how they were, regrettably, friends, and he didn't want to die without at least admitting that to himself -opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it fast before opening it right back up. "I'm not sure. I was alone when I used it. It's possible…" He trailed off, lost in his thoughts for a time. "Guess we'll find out."
"I suppose so." Draco nodded in confirmation before bracing the sword in his left hand and guiding his thumb, slowly, over the stone. He closed his eyes in the process, fearing what he would see (or, rather, who) before focusing all his efforts on his grandfather. When his eyes opened, his mouth fell.
"Finally. I was starving." Ron dug into the egg roll appetizers before the plate even touched the table, shoveling one into his mouth as a look of pure harmony glazed across his long face. "Oo guys 'ave to try some!"
Hermione exchanged glances with Diggle, who sat across the table from her and Ron, fiddling with the straw inside his cup. He wore a stoic expression while watching the two of them -surprisingly, none of it mirrored jealousy. He was smart enough, after all, to deduce this was fantasy.
"So… Ron. Mate." Diggle folded his hands on the table. "We, um, we get along, do we?"
Ron raised an eyebrow, simultaneously slurping down half a glass of water. When he finished, he answered, "Well, yeah. I hope so. We've been partners for the last two years."
"Have we?" His voice was sneering, almost bored. After a swift kick under the table from Hermione, however, his attitude changed. "That's… wonderful. How did that happen, I wonder? My memory seems fuzzy…"
"Ha. Ha." Ron swallowed the rest of his eggroll. "Look, just because we got sloshed last night doesn't mean you get to try to opt me out of being your best man."
"Best… man?" It was obvious from the expression on Diggle's face when he turned to Hermione, he, for a moment, thought it might be her he was marrying. Then he came to his senses, reached for an eggroll, ate half of it in one bite, then followed it up with some water. When he finished, he looked between Ron and Hermione, shrugging. "What? I'm a stress eater."
"You're getting married," Hermione said, hearing the disbelief in her tone she tried to shrug off. It didn't work. "Someone wants to marry you." She began to laugh.
"What's so funny?"
"Someone wants to marry you." She couldn't help it; she barrelled forward in laughter. "You. Greg Diggle. The man obsessed with-" she nearly said 'me' but caught herself, "-chasing unattainable women is getting married."
"Talk about your Deja Vu," Ron muttered, reaching for another egg roll. "I think those were her exact words the day you told us."
"And you two are married to each other, yes?" Diggle crossed his arms, thoroughly miffed. When he caught Ron's withering expression, he smirked. "So. Who's the lucky witch?"
"You gone and bonked your head? Seriously, Lindy's too good for you."
"Lindy?" Diggle's face scrunched up in pure confusion, and he leaned across the table to Hermione. "I don't know a Lindy."
"Lindy… Bolt. The Auror?" she offered.
"Obviously." Ron sat his eggroll down on the table. "Alright, what's gotten into you two? Hermione, please tell me you didn't tamper with his memories?" He grabbed his stomach. "Uh oh. Egg rolls and a belly full of alcohol from the night before… not a good combo." Rising from the table, Ron gave Hermione a quick peck on the cheek before retreating, with little dignity, in the direction of the bathroom.
Diggle, for all his good nature, dropped the pleasantries the moment Ron disappeared, settling on an annoyed expression as he muttered under his breath, "Remind me again why he's the cat that got the cream?"
"Because he's kind, and genuine, and funny, and has more integrity in his pinky finger than you do in your entire body. You took it all away from me. You took him away from me." Hermione had put up with enough. She folded her arms over her chest and smirked in a way which would have made Draco extremely proud, ignoring the knot in her chest. "Have you figured it out, yet? Why we're here?"
There was a small nod, followed by Diggle ducking his eyes to the table whilst rapping his knuckles along the wooden countertop. "This mirror is a what-could-have-been."
"Yes."
Silence dragged on before he spoke again, eyebrows working as he processed his thoughts. "Is this supposed to show me what it would have been like if I was simply another bleeding heart?" The tone in which he spoke held bitterness. "To teach me some moral conduct?"
"You're half right," Hermione admitted, "But you haven't seemed to grasp the larger picture."
"Do tell." He refused to look her in the eyes.
She chose her next words carefully, repeating them verbatim from her memory. "This is the Mirror of Amuart. Its purpose is simple, but it only works when two people enter. Had you come by yourself, you would have found yourself lost inside forever."
"Why two people?"
"For the person who has been wronged, and the person who has done wrong. -This reality is what would have happened had you never betrayed me or my friends. If you'd proven yourself worthy of this life. It's meant for the betrayer to see what he's taken away from his victim-"
"-and force him to come to terms with his actions," Diggle finished. Even then, he dared not raise his eyes to hers.
"Precisely."
Slowly, and then all at once, a smirk clawed its way up lips, predatory. "So, you mean to tear me down to build me back up into a better man?" It was nearly sinister, the way he changed moods on a whim. One moment, he appeared truly remorseful, and the next… this. Cold. Detached. Still, just under the surface of his eyes, there gleamed the small bit of humanity he pretended to cast aside. "Hermione, I'm flattered enough you'd care for my soul this way."
Her eyes turned to slits. "Don't you dare insinuate I would harbor any feelings for you other than the necessary hatred I hold. You want the Gray, yes?"
"Of course I do."
"Well, the only way you're getting it is by cracking the code to this mirror's magic."
"And how would one go about that?" He tilted his head, still smirking.
"Convincing me of your remorse. Which, if right now is anything to go off of, will never happen."
"Being trapped in a mirror with the woman I desire? Color me convinced. How long should our stay be? Long enough for Draco to fail his task?"
Hermione gasped. "You wouldn't."
Diggle laughed. "No, I dare say you wouldn't forgive me ever again. You're quite the little liar, aren't you, Hermione? Telling me you'd forgiven me, and then forcing me to act out this false charade. Tell me, at what point am I supposed to crumble to my knees and beg forgiveness? I've already done it, and let me tell you, it wasn't as satisfying as one would think."
It was a good thing Ron appeared back at the table, because, if she were forced to endure another moment of that foreboding grin, Hermione would be tempted to knock the taste out of Greg Diggle's mouth. He played his part well, settling into a pleasant smile the moment Ron slipped into the spot next to his wife, draping an arm around her shoulder while yawning. "Did I miss anything?"
"A few good years, I'd say." Diggle pushed up out of his chair. "Don't turn your back on this one, Weasley. Not even a year with you gone, and she'd turn to embrace the one you despise most." Quickly, he turned to leave.
"Where are you going?" Hermione burst out, shaking the table at her uprise. Ron looked between them, utterly confused.
Diggle licked the apex of his lips and rubbed his hands together. "You'll have to forgive me, Mrs. Weasley, but I wish to check in on an old friend. You know the one? Blond? Piercing grey eyes? Ruminating expression on most occasions? I wonder how he fairs without you?"
"What's he going on about, Hermione?" Ron asked, perplexed.
"Diggle, you're wasting time." Hermione stomped her foot on the floor. "If you dally in here long enough, you run the risk of us being trapped here forever."
"Killing two birds with one stone? Sounds… inviting. Consider it my penance. You won't use the stone to bring your husband back, then allow me to give you the deepest pleasure in assuring you'll never need to live without him."
"Draco will die!"
The air hung thick with tension. Diggle allowed a moment of pause, considering her words, before shrugging. "Your point, Hermione?"
"God, Greg! Do you think of no one but yourself? Draco isn't the only one with a head on the chopping block if we don't succeed! Scorpius, Astoria, Dean! You say you don't care, but we both know that isn't true, is it?" Her voice grew softer, and she ignored the vacant, hanging jaw of her figment husband for the time being. "Dean visits you. But you have to accept those visits. You care. Despite everything, I know you care about him. Us. Me." It stung to stay the words, but she needed to if she wanted any hope of leaving this mirror. "Don't turn your back on me. You promised you only wanted to make me happy."
Diggle looked between Hermione and Ron, and then said in a hushed tone, "Does seeing him again make you happy, Hermione?"
A tear slipped down her cheek. "You know it does."
"Then I don't want to be forgiven." He backed away before taking his departure, leaving Hermione standing awkwardly next to Ron, who stared at her with such inquisitiveness he looked like he was trying to solve the world's greatest math problem.
"Um… Hermione?"
She turned her eyes on him, cheeks as red as the devil himself.
"What… did you mean 'Draco will die'? Draco Malfoy? What's Malfoy got to do with anything? What's going on? Listen, if you're in trouble-"
"-I am, Ron."
He immediately jumped up from the table, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Tell me what to do." And there he was -that ever loyal, stern, loving force that could only be Ron Weasley. Even down to that silly little crinkle between his eyebrows.
"You always did love being bossed around by me," she said nostalgically, reaching up to his hands, bringing them between their bodies, and weaving their fingers together. "I need you to help me hold Diggle accountable for his actions. He refuses to face the truth, but I need him to understand."
Red flared on his cheeks, and Ron looked to the door, where Diggle left only moments ago. "He didn't try anything, did he? I know he jokes around alot, but, Hermione, if he came on to you for real-"
"That's not it." She batted away a choke full of tears. "Ron. This… this isn't real. None of this is real. I thought this would work, but if it doesn't, everyone I love is going to be in grave danger." Hermione closed her eyes, inhaled the scent of Ron and the restaurant, and then opened them, confessing, "Diggle needs to feel remorse, because… you're dead, Ron. Greg Diggle is responsible for your murder."
He still looked the same as he ever did, pudgy and square faced. It had been years since Draco felt anything like a schoolboy, but the moment his eyes rested upon his childhood friend, the overwhelming urge to race to the Slytherin common room came to mind.
"Crabbe." The faintest of smiles, laced with crippling sadness, skirted across Draco's fine features as he took a step forward. "Is it really you?"
Vincent Crabbe nodded, nearly stoic in expression. "Hello, Draco."
"I…" Draco searched for words. What could he say? There were so many things, after Vincent's death, that he'd wanted to, wished he could say, but hadn't because he'd always felt superior. He never treated his friends with the respect they deserved, but it wouldn't be until it was too late to realize. It's why Gregory Goyle never wrote. It's why Pansy Parkinson went her own way. Why Blaise Zabini thought himself too good to keep in contact. Friends, after War, were few and far between. Especially when Draco questioned every moral in his arsenal, turning it over again and again looking for the wrong. Most of them, turned out, were tainted with xenophobic notions. Crabbe's death made him question what it meant to be pureblooded, and if it were worth the risk of dying over whose blood might be more 'worthy'.
He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what?" Crabbe asked in his husky, low grump of a voice. He had a slight glow about him, and Draco looked to Harry to see if he saw it to. Potter stared right through Crabbe. So… it was only to the person who touched the stone. Interesting.
"For getting you mixed up in all of it. If I had been a better friend and… less…"
"Bossy?" Crabbe cracked a grin.
A relieved laugh escaped Draco's lips. "You have me there."
Harry stepped forward, eyes focused on Draco. "Do you see him? Abraxas?"
Draco looked down to the stone, concentrating, then glanced back to Crabbe. Nothing.
"He's not on this side," Vincent said. "Your grandfather. He's… gone."
"He's not there," Draco answered Harry. "Just Vincent."
"What about Lindy?" Harry asked carefully. Too carefully, in fact, to be comfortable. Draco concentrated his efforts, thought of Bolt's limp body in his arms at the edge of the forbidden forest. Of her gentle smile and confessions to admiring the older Auror. Still, she didn't show beside Crabbe.
"She isn't there, either." He thought about it. Did he care for the young Auror enough to see her? Yes. He admitted to himself; he did. The stupid little witch managed to get under his skin in just the right ways to create a notch in Draco's sparse friendship post. "Somehow, you don't look as surprised as I thought you would."
"There's been a development at the Ministry." Harry pulled up his robe sleeve and checked the time on his watch. "If they haven't found that cat by now, I'm going to call the search off."
"Yeah, about that…" Draco smirked, guilty. "I might have been the one to let that feline into the Ministry."
Harry's eyes fumed. "You what?"
"I didn't have a choice!"
"Did it never occur to you to let me know?"
"How the bloody Hell was I to contact you?"
"Get a damn cell phone!"
"On my dead body I will!"
"Oy. Draco," Crabbe muttered. "Bit insensitive, don't you think?"
"Insensitive?" Draco smirked. "I'm impressed, Crabbe. I didn't know you knew words like that." Harry stepped up beside Draco, yanking the sword, and thus the stone, out of his hand. "Oy! Bit insensitive, don't you think, Potter?"
"We don't have time for you to quip with your old Death Eater chums." Harry's words were harsh, but his next words would be the ones to nearly send Draco toppling to his knees. "Lindy Bolt is alive."
"...What?"
A/N: The Mirror of Erised is Desire spelled backward, as we all know. So, the Mirror of Amuart is Trauma spelled backward.
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