Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Beauty and the Beast	By : Nocturne Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 14407 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling. I do not own the Harry Potter fandom, nor do I make any money from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Hermione found herself caring less and less about what was waiting for her outside of the Manor, and realizing that was more terrifying than anything Draco could have said or done. She knew he had done wrong. He wasn't just a war criminal. He wasn't just a helpless schoolboy coaxed into joining his father's cult. He was a murderer – of dozens.
She caught his gaze every now and then, as they headed for the dungeons, and tried hard to find that one strand of homicidal DNA – but her efforts proved useless. There was something about him, about the Jekyll and Hyde aspect of his being that spoke volumes. In that moment she realized one thing.
He was both guilty and innocent.
"Do you mind if we take a small detour?" he asked.
Hermione blinked several times, falling back to reality. "Erm – no. I don't mind."
Draco led them to a corridor just off the foyer and they continued until reaching a set of large, double doors made of the finest wood. "I've wanted to bring you here since your arrival."
Before she had a chance to reply, Draco opened the double doors, revealing the most spectacular thing Hermione had ever seen. She felt her jaw hang open, and took several steps forward. "This – This is amazing."
"It's yours," he interjected. "For as long as you're here. Everything in this room is at your disposal."
Hermione faced him, flabbergasted. "But – But there must be thousands of books in here. I…I couldn't…"
"Please. I insist." Draco closed the door behind them and ushered Hermione to one of the nearby shelves. "This shelf is Muggle literature. The rest of it is Wizarding."
She arched an eyebrow. "You have Muggle literature in here? Isn't that sacrilegious?"
Draco laughed. "If my father has a problem with it, he can sneak himself out of Azkaban and do something."
"Fair enough." Hermione shifted her attention back to the books. "This must be bigger than the Hogwarts library."
"Smaller," he clarified. "But not by a large margin."
The brunette hadn't heard him. She was focused on something in the Muggle shelf. It looked quite old compared to the rest of the books. "Is this what I think it is?" she asked, facing him for a split second.
"Maybe."
Hermione pulled the book out from its spine and raised both eyebrows. "Captain Corelli's Mandolin," she read aloud. "I don't think I've read this one in ages."
"I picked it up in Russia, back when I was in hiding."
The young woman stared at him, as though she had forgotten all about that part in his life. "Hmm. Maybe I should give it another go. What was your favourite bit?"
Draco didn't pause for a single second. He recited the words as though they had been etched into the inner alcoves of his mind. "When you fall in love, it is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake, and then it subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots are to become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the desire to mate every second of the day. It is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every part of your body. No ... don't blush. I am telling you some truths. For that is just being in love; which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over, when being in love has burned away. Doesn't sound very exciting, does it? But it is."
Hermione could do nothing but gape. Everything he had said, every word, was a direct line into her life preceding Malfoy Manor. She had stopped being in love, but in the end there was nothing left. None of it was real. It was all an illusion, a dream.
"Are you all right?" asked Draco, taking note of her mood change. "Did I say something wrong?"
"Not at all," she assured him. "I just – I really like that quote."
Draco didn't seem convinced. "You know my deepest, darkest moment better than anyone in this universe or the next," he started. "Now it's my turn to know yours. What's bothering you?"
His words were unapologetic and abrupt in nature, but through it all Hermione felt a certain compulsion to unearth every detail. She turned away from him. "You ask a lot of questions."
"I want to know you," he uttered. "It's that simple."
She closed her eyes. "I want to leave."
"Why are you afraid?" he probed.
"I'm not afraid of you. I think we've established that."
"Not me," blurted the young man. "I'm talking about us. Why are you afraid of exploring this?"
"Let me go."
He reached for her. "Tell, Hermione. What is wrong?"
"Nothing!"
"Why can't you just let this happen?"
"Because you're a murderer!" she cried, shoving his hand away and slamming her body back against the door. "Y – You've killed people – in cold blood." A harsh silence filled the room. "You must be held accountable. It's the only right course of action. B – But I can't do it," she uttered, sinking low to the floor. "Because for some inconceivable reason, I – I think you're innocent." Her gaze tilted upwards, meeting with his.
Draco knelt down, lifting her from the floor as though she weighed a feather. "I think it's time you learn the full truth."
Without any hints, he led her away from the library and down an empty corridor. There was no light in sight. Hermione followed closely behind him, only then realizing their hands were together, and looked to her guide as they reached a downward staircase. He gave her a comforting look before showing her down the steps. It felt as though the stairs were never-ending. They'd been descending for nearly twenty minutes when an end was finally in sight.
The walls were made of stone, as were floors and the ceiling. Hermione glanced all around, noticing tiny rooms divided up by rusted, metal bars. She looked to Draco. "We're in the dungeons."
His silence was confirmation enough. The young man continued down the empty corridor, footsteps echoing in the deafening silence. He stopped somewhere near the end and motioned for Hermione to join his side. She hesitantly found herself in such a place and, against her better judgment, looked to the cell in front of them.
A glacial force coursed through her veins, rendering her both paralyzed and speechless. This cell, unlike the others, was not empty. At first it looked to be a bundle of tattered fabric, perhaps a cloak, but upon closer inspection Hermione realized there was a man underneath. His face was barely visible, but the tuft of dark hair on his head followed by the blood that matted it together was enough.
"Nott," she breathed, grabbing the bars. "H – He's alive."
Draco remained several paces back. "Barely."
"I don't understand. I saw him die before my own eyes."
"I've been tending to him," explained the youngest Malfoy. "This would all be easier, had I the right tools."
Hermione faced him. "Why is he locked up? He should be in St. Mungo's."
An odd feeling veiled Draco's expression. "Some things are better left unknown."
"I – I should help," she decided, rolling up her sleeves. "Open the cell. I'll have a look at him."
"You will do no such thing."
Hermione gaped. "Are you mad? He can't heal under these conditions. Let me have a look at him."
"I can't have that. He's a danger to you."
"What?"
"How well do you know Nott?"
"Erm – well – he was my partner for only a day. All I really know about him is that he's an Auror."
"Tell me something," he started. "In the pensieve, you noted two individuals – two Aurors – who did this to me. Correct?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You're not suggesting Nott was involved, are you?"
"No," answered Draco, staring at her with a look as cold and hard as steel. "I'm telling you."
The young woman took several steps back. Her breathing grew rapid and her head was spinning. "That's impossible. That would mean he's crooked."
"How do you think they tracked me down?" he furthered. "I covered my tracks day in and day out, whilst hiding in Russia. My only mistake was, trusting an old friend." His words were drenched in disappointment. "I sought him out for help, in knowing what became of my family, and instead I earned this." Draco gestured to his own self.
Hermione stared between the men. In the short time she had known Nott, he gave her no indication that he was at all crooked. "Why would he do such a thing?"
"I don't know," offered the young man, turning to his former ally. "But I have every intention in finding out."
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Beauty and the Beast