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Pansy's Volcano	By : Bluemidget57 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 206366 -:- Recommendations : 6 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Pansy's Volcano
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Thirteen
- 14-Fourteen
- 15-Fifteen
- 16-Sixteen
- 17-Seventeen
- 18-Eighteen
- 19-Nineteen
- 20-Twenty
- 21-Twenty one
- 22-Twenty Two
- 23-Twenty Three
- 24-Twenty Four
- 25-Twenty Five
- 26-Twnety Six
- 27-Twenty Seven
- 28-Twenty Eight
- 29-Twenty Nine
- 30-Thirty
- 31-Thirty one
- 32-Thirty Two
- 33-Thirty Three
- 34-Thirty Four
- 35-Thirty Five
- 36-Thirty Six
- 37-Thirty Seven
- 38-Thirty Eight
- 39-Thirty Nine
- 40-Forty
- 41-Forty One
- 42-Forty Two
- 43-Forty Three
- 44-Forty Four
- 45-Forty Five
- 46-Forty Six
- 47-Forty Seven
- 48-Forty Eight
- 49-Forty Nine
- 50-Fifty
- 51-Fifty One
- 52-52
- 53-53
- 54-54
- 55-55
- 47
- 48
- 49
48

Draco mouthed several platitudes to convince Narcissa that he was awake and almost fully functioning, and she left him to get dressed while she went downstairs to eat breakfast.
�Happy Christmas to you too,� he mumbled grumpily as she shut the door behind her. He knew perfectly well how the day would go from now on; Narcissa would be all smiles and excitement until they reached Azkaban - the visit with Lucius would be conducted in hushed whispers with his father appearing drained and fragile - and as soon as they exited the prison Narcissa�s frail gaiety would collapse. Their return to the manor would be completed in absolute silence, and after a couple of fortifying drinks, Narcissa would invite Draco to join her at one of her friends� holiday villas, be turned down, and leave alone.
Well, not this year. Draco had formulated his own plans for Christmas afternoon this year. He pulled on the first robes which came to hand from his wardrobe, and retrieved the small parcel he had bought in Diagon Alley the day he went to Adolfo�s. In between his experiments with charming the cd player, he had created a fairly intricate Portkey out of a piece of parchment upon which he had written a brief note to Hermione, to accompany the gift he had chosen for her.
He was quite proud of his charm work; she would have to say the correct words for the Portkey to work, and he hoped he knew her well enough to have predicted exactly what she would say upon opening his present. He was reasonably confident that her reactions would be as he expected; however, he was unwilling to leave it entirely to chance that she might not react in the way he anticipated, and had woven a secondary charm into the enchantment which should activate if she held the letter longer than five minutes without speaking the correct spell.
He hadn�t seen her for nearly a week, and he was desperate - he didn�t care at this point whether what he was planning might be inconvenient to Hermione; all he really knew for sure was that he could only survive this morning�s excursion by hanging onto thoughts of his plans for the afternoon.
He tapped the gift with his wand and spoke the final words to shrink the package and activate the spells before opening the antique cage in the corner of his room and bringing his tawny owl out on his arm. Zion was not a particularly ostentatious owl, and Draco knew that many of his housemates had been quite surprised to see him with such a modest carrier, but he had bred Zion himself and was very attached to him. He stroked the bird�s brown feathers, thinking momentarily how like the rich colours of Hermione�s hair the plumage was.
�Take this to a Miss Hermione Granger, in Blisworth, Northamptonshire,� he instructed as he attached the miniaturized parcel to Zion�s leg, �make sure she is alone when you deliver it, and that it is early afternoon. I think it�s quite rural where she lives so you should be able to find something to amuse yourself if you get there too quickly! But it is a Muggle neighbourhood, so be careful, okay?�
Zion seemed to give him an affronted stare before he scratched his beak affectionately against Draco�s cheek and took off through the window which Draco opened for him. With his plans for the afternoon in motion, Draco made his way downstairs to eat a hasty breakfast and get the unpleasant business of the day out of the way.
It was not that he didn�t want to see his father, but the reality of That Place was something he could well have done without ever experiencing. It pained Draco to see the man he had spent fifteen years looking up to and emulating, reduced to the status of a convict, and incarcerated in that inhumane fortress. It wasn�t Lucius that Draco saw when he went to Azkaban, but a hollow mockery of everything that had once been his father, drained of his former vitality - misguided though it had been - and clinging to the remnants of his sanity by a fragile thread which could snap any moment.
Narcissa waited impatiently while her son shoveled a few mouthfuls of breakfast into his mouth, and interrupting him before he could swallow more than one sip of orange juice, she called Garrett to the breakfast room to deliver the visitor�s bangles.
Since the dementor desertion at the end of Draco�s 5^th year, security at Azkaban was at an all-time high. In the aftermath of Voldemort�s return, some of the dementors had drifted back to the prison, finding that the ready supply of emotions to prey upon was not as forthcoming in the service of the Dark One. The Ministry did not make the mistake of allowing the dementors the same freedoms as before, but it was certainly an added deterrent to have them haunting the outer reaches of the island once again.
The bangles which Garrett provided for Draco and his mother to wear were issued by the Ministry to approved relatives of Azkaban inmates, and only those wearing the charm imprinted id�s could Apparate into the visiting block of the prison. Anyone trying to arrive by other means was captured in a binding spell and instantly transported into a holding cell on an inhospitable rocky island in international wizarding waters off the Greenland coast. The Ministry was rumored to only check this holding cell once a month, so the chances were quite high that one might expire of starvation before being relocated to the far pleasanter accommodations of Azkaban itself.
Like most of the homes of his pureblooded peers with a somewhat shadier ancestry, Malfoy Manor had a dedicated Apparating room, to enable the family to restrict the comings and goings of visitors to the house. Draco had often wondered if the designers of the New Azkaban had modeled their id bangles on the Malfoy Apparating Room; the spell work was quite similar, and immediately after Lucius� capture they had been subjected to plenty of random raids and inspections by dour Ministry officials who had poked through every room in the house and left many furnishings and articles disturbed from their places. It was quite conceivable they had stolen Draco�s great-great grandfather�s spell work and adapted it for themselves.
Draco twisted the bangle around his wrist as he and Narcissa concentrated on the gloomy dull stone walls of Azkaban�s receiving room, and moments later they were standing there, in front of an equally dull, gloomy prison guard who held them momentarily in a stasis spell whilst he ran his wand up and down their bodies checking for concealed Portkeys and other illegal objects.
�Clean,� he muttered as he released them from their momentary paralysis. �Wands and id tags,� he demanded in a surly voice sticking his hand out expectantly. Draco and his mother handed over their wands and unclipped the bangles. As another security measure, they would not be allowed to see Lucius whilst in possession of any item which allowed passage through the wards on the prison. The guard dropped their wands and bangles carelessly into a brown pot and with a tap of his wand marked Malfoy on the side. He shuffled over and opened the thick wooden door which lead into a long corridor towards the prison itself. There were another five doors between this room and the cells, none of which a visitor could pass through until the previous one was shut and locked behind him. �They�ll bring �im to room 716,� the guard grunted as they passed into the corridor.
The more doors one passed through the colder and more depressing the atmosphere became; when you stepped though the fifth and final door you could fully feel dark oppressive presence of the dementors themselves. Draco hated this place more than anything he had ever encountered in his life; the loathsome lust of the dementors seemed to seep into his very bones, making his movements feeble and slow. For some reason today he seemed to feel their invasive presence even more acutely than ever before, and although his mind was sluggish he finally realised that they could sense Hermione in him, and panic began to race along his nerves.
He had never come here before with any kind of emotion that would interest the dementors; there had never been anything that he held precious in his life before, and even then he had always left this place emotionally drained and ready to sleep for days. He could barely begin to imagine how juicy and tempting his feelings for Hermione must be to the dementors.
His recognition of what was causing their sudden interest in him did little to enable him to diminish it; Hermione had invaded his very essence and wrapped herself around his soul - the more he tried to empty his mind of thoughts of her, the harder his heart clung to the very image of her to help him combat the leeching coldness that was threatening to invade his body. This is a mistake - I have to get out of here! He was chanting under his breath as Narcissa stopped outside the door where the guard had indicated they could meet with Lucius.
She knocked on the door and spoke clearly as required, �Narcissa and Draco Malfoy to see Lucius Malfoy.� There was a pause as their identities were once again verified, and Narcissa turned to watch her son, finding him to be shockingly pale, his eyes screwed shut and panting heavily as he clenched and unclenched his fists rhythmically. She frowned worriedly, �Draco - what�s the matter, dear? You don�t look well - are you going to be sick?�
Draco, who had never been able to understand how his mother could present such a calm façade until she actually left this place, could only manage to shake his head. �I hate this place,� he muttered. �It gets worse every time. I can feel them trying to get in my head.�
Narcissa slipped her hand into her son�s, and despite the appearance she was presenting of a calm and collected visitor, Draco was reassured somewhat to feel that her palms were also cold and clammy and her fingers shook slightly as they took comfort from each other.
The door swung open and a disembodied voice announced. �Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, you are cleared to enter. Please sit down and the prisoner will be with you shortly.�
Mother and son proceeded into the room, which was totally sterile and exactly like every other visiting cell along the corridor which was ridiculously named Reunion Row. They sat together still fiercely clutching hold of each others� hands in two of the hard wooden chairs on one side of the small scarred table. Lucius would be allowed to sit opposite them; physical contact was only allowed in greeting and departing. If any visitor touched the prisoner for longer than thirty seconds, a shock wave would hurl the two apart and the visit was forfeit.
Draco only ever shook his father�s hand, and Narcissa would cling to her husband counting, one Hippogriff, two Hippogriff until she reached twenty and then leap away from him. Draco supposed it might have been funny if it hadn�t all been so easily avoidable. Of course, not all inmates were subject to quite this level of security. For some, there were no proximity indicators, and the lower-risk criminals were even allowed food parcels (thoroughly checked, of course) from home. Lucius however, was being held under a �reasonable suspicion of intent to escape� as defined by the Ministry, which made him the highest risk level of inmate, and that meant every conceivable restraint was put on his visiting hours which in themselves were restricted to only one a month by approved family members.
Ministry Officials, no doubt particularly the Minister himself - obviously enjoyed unlimited access to whomever they chose to interview. Draco wondered briefly if Fudge had been expected to sit in this Spartan little cell when he had come to discuss Lucius� parole with him.
The effect of the dementors was lessening marginally since they entered the cell; for �protection� all the visiting cells were padded rooms, and the dampening and cushioning charms which penetrated the walls and floor filtered out some of the dark lust that was reaching for Hermione�s memory. Draco felt his panic recede minimally, and let go of his mother�s hand as the door opened again to admit Lucius and the guard who had brought him from his cell. Draco and Narcissa had never been allowed to see the conditions in which Lucius lived during his incarceration. Visits were only allowed on Reunion Row.
Narcissa sprung up from her seat, but waited until the guard indicated that she could greet her husband. As soon as he nodded she flung herself into Lucius� arms and covered his gaunt face with ecstatic kisses. Draco, who was counting on her behalf, glad of something to distract his mind from the probing of the dementors, reached twenty Hippogriffs, and said sharply, �Mother! Careful now.�
Narcissa clasped a hand over her mouth and backed away, silent tears running down her cheeks. Draco thought this was the hardest thing for his mother; he wondered if it wouldn�t be better not to be allowed to touch Lucius at all, than be given so little time to hold him close. He stood stiffly, and shook his father�s hand as was their custom.
Lucius looked wan and malnourished; the face - once so like Draco�s own was now lined with stress and bore the sickly pallor of someone who never saw the sunlight, but his hair and clothes were clean, and there was less of a stoop in his demeanor than had been present during Draco�s last visit, just before 7^th year started.
Draco remembered that he had been able to give his father good news at that last visit; that he had been elected Head Boy. This time it appeared the �good news� was to come from within these walls. Lucius squeezed his son�s hand, but his grip lacked the strength it had once held, and Draco found sadness welling up in him at how this place had changed the father he had idolized for so long. The hero was gone, and all that was left was this man who had been too arrogant and too sure of his own infallibility; not a hero at all - just someone who had made some really stupid choices and was now paying the price for it.
Draco stared hard at his father�s Dark Mark while his parents talked quietly, exchanging their devotions. Azkaban policy stated that anyone imprisoned for being a Death Eater was required to display the brand of their treachery for all to see. There was no hiding your shame in this place; prison robes were cut short on the left sleeve to ensure that the inmate�s perfidy was never forgotten or overlooked. The ugly tattoo seemed to taunt Draco as unbidden his thoughts turned to Hermione again, and for a second the incredible joy of having found her gave him peace, until he felt the hungry probing of the dementors at the edge of his mind, aware immediately of his upsurge of happiness and desperate to take it for themselves.
He viciously clamped down on his thoughts, and returned his attention to his parents, to find Lucius was watching him curiously. �Draco, did your mother tell you that it is possible I might be released from here?� Lucius asked; his voice was not as smooth or silky as it had used to be - indeed there was a trace of harshness which could have been the result of prison cough, an illness which preyed on many inmates in the damp confines of the penal island, and had sent many to their death.
�Yes, Sir.� Draco replied. �Tell me more about it. Is the Ministry offering you a complete pardon for the charges?� Draco was very careful about how he worded any allusions to the event which had placed his father in this place. Even though his father was currently detained, he was not yet ready to publicly announce that he had started thinking for himself. He devoutly hoped that his mother would not bring up that little outburst at the lunch table when his tongue - obviously influenced by it�s continuous application to Hermione�s own Gryffindor appendage - had run away with him.
Lucius frowned disappointedly, �Indeed, no.� He said, �the charges are to stand. What I have been able to discuss with Cornelius is a release based on exemplary behaviour whilst here, and supported by his assurances to the Board that I have repented of my involvement with anything instigated by He-Who-Must-Not-be -Named.�
Draco took a chance, a really big one. �And have you?� He asked blandly. �Does the Board know that you are sincere?�
Lucius returned his son�s stare unblinkingly. �But of course, Draco,� he replied calmly. �Otherwise how could I ever expect to be released?�
After that conversation, Draco found it easier not to think about Hermione; he spent the rest of the visit trying to decide what his father had meant by that response, and the gnawing worry that he simply couldn�t interpret what Lucius had said left him very little time for happy thoughts. He paid little attention to what was said up until the time when Lucius� guard who had appeared to be nodding off in the corner of the room suddenly jerked to attention and announced that visiting time was over, and allowed Narcissa one last embrace before hustling Lucius out of the room at wand point.
Draco and his mother had to wait another five minutes before they were allowed to make their way back to the Apparating area, and Draco quietly slipped his arm around his mother as they passed in between the five doors. As always, this was the point at which their roles reversed; Narcissa was the brave one when they were on their way to see Lucius, but all her verve was sapped away by the sight of her husband�s back retreating away from her. In Draco�s eyes, every step along that corridor was one step nearer to being out of this horrendous place and one step further from the all-invasive presence of the dementors.
The same guard was still on duty, and he passed their wands and bangles back with little more than a grunt. Draco released his hold on Narcissa for the first time since they had left the visiting room, and without a parting word to the guard, they Disapparated home.
Garrett was waiting in the foyer when they arrived, and took their id bangles placing them in a small wooden box which he locked with a brass key that he then returned to his pocket. Narcissa took the box and disappeared into the Blue Room with it; she kept a wall safe in her private room where the box with the bangles would be stored. Garrett would put the key in another safe; the Ministry reserved the right at any time to inspect the security of id tags allowing access to Azkaban. It would not be wise to have them laying loose in an underwear drawer if the Aurors came to call.
Draco sighed and leant against the banister rail; he was chilled to the bones and emotionally drained from the constant pressure the dementors had laid upon him all morning. It always took him several hours to warm up after a visit to his father, but today had been the worst experience so far.
Now, if events followed their usual pattern, Narcissa should be return from securing the bracelets and ask him,
�Draco, please will you come to Rosario�s with me this afternoon?� Right on cue, his mother exited the Blue Room, wringing her hands stressfully and trying to disguise her distress by projecting false cheer and jollity.
�No, Mother, I�m not up to it today,� Draco replied as he always did. However, there was a lot more truth in his refusal this time than previously. �The dementors really affected me today. I think I need to sleep it off.�
Narcissa laid a hand on his cheek, momentarily distracted from her own sadness. �Yes, darling, they did seem to drain you more so than I have ever seen before. Do you have any idea why they were so drawn to you today?�
Draco let his eyes slide away from his mother�s and covered up by rubbing his fingers in circles on his temples. �Does anyone really know what motivates a dementor?� He asked wryly. �I suppose I could come by later, after I have had a bath and slept a bit. Will you be staying late?�
�I might stay for a couple of days,� Narcissa said guiltily. She really did hate leaving Draco alone at Christmas, but the thought of her dear Lucius alone in that awful place drained her own spirit and she needed to feel the sun on her skin and breathe the warm Mediterranean air to restore her equilibrium so that she could face the loneliness of the winter months without her husband or her son. �Draco, please come out and spend the rest of the holidays with me. I miss you so much while you are at school, and you only have two weeks off. But I just cannot stay here in the cold and damp any longer. Please, Draco..�
Draco winced as he felt the noose of parental obligation closing around his neck. There was absolutely no way he could refuse his mother�s pleas as she gazed up at him so earnestly. With a resounding bang, the door slammed shut on his plans for the rest of the holidays. �Of course, if it means that much to you, Mother,� he sighed with a forced smile. �I�ll come over tomorrow, I promise, but for today I just want to lie around and do nothing. Can you give me that?�
Narcissa gave him a watery smile and reached up to kiss his cheek. �Of course, darling,� she said. �But if you don�t appear tomorrow, I will send someone to get you. We shall have a wonderful time, I know. Natalie Henstridge and her family will be there - they have two lovely daughters near your age, so you should have some company other than middle aged witches.�
With that his mother turned and made her way upstairs, no doubt to collect her bags for a week in Greece, leaving Draco convinced that she was matchmaking. She didn�t approve of Pansy Parkinson, and constantly tried to dangle alternatives in his face to steer him away from Lucius� choice. He smothered a grimace as he wondered if Narcissa�s distaste for Pansy would extend to accepting Hermione. Perhaps he should mention Pansy�s explosive interlude; that would truly put Narcissa on the warpath.
What a wonderful few days he had to look forward to; no Hermione, and a parade of doubtless terminally silly witches produced by his mother to try and capture his fancy. Thank Merlin he had his plans for this afternoon.

**********
Christmas Day in the Granger household could not have been more different. Because of their party plans for Christmas Day, Hermione and her parents had attended a midnight service in the village; traditionally they opened one gift each on Christmas Eve, leaving the rest of the presents for the morning. Hermione and her mother spent the first hour of Christmas Day stuffing the turkey and getting it into the oven, and then they sat around the tree exchanging gifts and watching Terry Wogan on the BBC.
Although she tried very hard not to be, Hermione was somewhat downcast that she hadn�t received any sign from Draco in response to her cd. She did appreciate that it would be much more difficult for him to get away as she had done, but she couldn�t help feeling that someone of his intelligence and creativity should have been able to come up with something to get around that minor problem.
However, in the face of all the delightful gifts she had received from her family, she was able to put her disappointment aside for the morning. A veritable slew of relatives and neighbors was descending late afternoon for the party, so after packing the dishwasher and watching the Queen�s speech, Hermione told her parents she was giving in to the soporific effects of the turkey and the late night on Christmas Eve, and taking a short nap before the first visitors arrived.
Mr Granger had already succumbed to the turkey, and was dozing lightly in his recliner in front of the telly. Mrs Granger, unable to relax with the imminent arrival of hordes of people, was pottering around the kitchen, making sure every surface sparkled.
Hermione slipped into her bedroom and opened her wardrobe; she had been trying to decide what to wear this evening and was unable to decide between a nice crimson red velvet cocktail dress and a slinky little black number she had worn several times on dates with Muggle boys she knew. She finally decided that the red dress was more festive and tried it on briefly to confirm her choice before she took the nap she had promised herself.
However, while she was examining herself in the full-length mirror, she heard the unmistakable tapping of an owl on her window, and moved excitedly to open it. Unwilling to get her hopes up she told herself firmly that it would probably only be Pig or Hedwig, but when she unlatched the window she found instead a fairly large tawny owl which she did not recognise waiting on the windowsill.
�Hello, boy,� she said quietly, not wanting to startle the bird. Not Ron or Harry then, but seemingly not Draco either; she had never seen his owl but certainly imagined it to be a more exotic species than this one. �Do you have something for me?� The owl stepped delicately from the windowsill onto her outstretched arm, and offered its leg. Hermione removed the scrolled package, setting it to one side momentarily whilst she stroked the bird�s chest. �Would you like a treat?� She asked, making her way slowly across her room, so as not to alarm the unfamiliar bird. �Did you have to come a long way to get here, hmm?� The bird preened slightly and ruffled his feathers. It seemed that he was used to being spoiled.
Hermione transferred him to the footboard of her bed, and took a small jar from her bookcase; she had discovered that Pig and Hedwig were especially keen on the bacon flavored dog chews her mother bought for Berkley, their spaniel, and she supposed that this bird might like them too. She broke a small piece off and offered it to the owl; he seemed to study it carefully before accepting it into his beak, and Hermione smiled at him. �Well, I�ll just see what you�ve brought me while you decide whether you like it or not,� she said, returning to pick up her letter.
She unwrapped the green ribbon which bound the delivery tube she had removed from the owl�s leg, and a small silk pouch fell into her hand from within the folds of the letter. She opened the tie at the top of the bag, and a delicate gold charm bracelet fell into the palm of her hand. She gasped with an uncontrollable anticipation as she lifted the beautiful jewelry to study it more closely. Could Draco have sent this to her�after not hearing a word from him for the whole break, she had begun to wonder if she had imagined the last weeks when they had been together every possible moment.
There was no doubt that the gift was exquisite, and of the highest quality; the chain seemed delicate but was obviously solid and not the hollow gold favored by many Muggle jewelry shops these days. It was designed into a flowing chain of S shaped links, the clasp was set with what Hermione could only assume were emeralds, and dangling from the chain were two small but perfectly detailed charms, one of a book, and the other a quill. It was quite clear that the bracelet had been - if not actually made for her - definitely chosen to suit her tastes. She didn�t want to leap to conclusions, but she couldn�t imagine anyone other than Draco thinking of something like this; Harry could no doubt afford it, but would have surely bought something of this nature for Ginny and not her - Ron, bless his heart, would never have been this imaginative even if she had drawn him a diagram. With labels.
She unfolded the letter which had surrounded the gift. As with her own communication to Draco, names were not used. The letter read;

Bookworm,
I know those plebian friends of yours have absolutely no originality, so you will probably get all the reading material you ever need from them this Christmas.
I wanted to get you a book you didn�t need. Put a magnifying spell on it and you will see, it�s even your favourite, and look how I was diplomatic enough to entwine both our colours.
I will see you sooner than you think.
D.

Hermione sighed happily, and crushed the letter to her chest along with the bracelet; she simply couldn�t deny that his gesture had positively overwhelmed her. He was absolutely correct, of course. Few people ever thought to buy her impractical or unnecessary gifts. She was essentially regarded as a sensible and serious person, and everyone - even, God Bless them, her parents - bought her useful presents. She could barely comprehend how it was that Draco Malfoy of all people should break away from the norm, and buy something so frivolous and yet so perfect, for her. She could hardly contain the bubbling pleasure which erupted giddily along her nerve endings, �Oh, Draco�.� she murmured dreamily, and that was when the whole situation fell apart around her ears.

***********

Many profound apologies for the delay. However, I do promise that the next chapter will not take so long, and I say this with confidence as it is already � complete. I had intended it to all be one chapter, but it was getting too long, so I thought I might break it here.
I had an excellent holiday in which I didn�t go to England and see relatives, thanks for asking (or in some cases threatening) We went to Vegas and Utah, to hike in Bryce and Zion Canyons. If you ever get the chance to go there, it is absolutely beautiful. You may spot the influence somewhere in this chapter�
8.21.05
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Pansy's Volcano