Bound

BY : goldhorse
Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione
Dragon prints: 118231
Disclaimer: JK owns HP. Not me. I also don't own any quotes you might recognize. I make no money doing this, I just get the plot bunnies to quit interrupting my sleep.


GRYFFINDOR WINS!!!



The Gryffindors all jumped up, shouting praise for their victory. They were nervous at first, seeing as how this was the first game of the year with an almost brand new team, and Ron Weasley as the keeper. His track record wasn’t anything to be proud of. He had a shaky start, but soon, he was on top of the game and led the team to victory, with the help of Harry Potter, of course. When they emerged from the locker room, their housemates picked Ron and Harry up on their shoulders and carried them all the way back to the tower.

 

After the crowd had headed back to Gryffindor tower, Hermione slunk out of the locker room with a cloud over her head. When she first stormed into the room, she was enraged. She couldn’t BELIEVE that Harry had slipped Ron the Felix Felicis potion. However, when she confronted them about it, she found out Harry didn’t use it and she had done much worse. After all, she had confounded Cormac McLaggan and helped Ron secure a spot as keeper. She was sure that downright cheating during a Quidditch game was a much larger offense than a harmless confundus charm during a tryout. After she had brought it up to them in the locker room, Ron blew up at her. He accused her of thinking he wasn’t a good player. She lagged behind so she wouldn’t have to listen to his brooding. It was an honest mistake. She had seen Harry tip the potion bottle into his pumpkin juice that morning.

 

She wondered around until the sky grew dark. Deciding she had hung back long enough, she slowly trudged inside. She didn’t feel much like studying (which was an admittedly rare occurrence) so she decided to stray back to the common room. Perhaps the celebration had ended. If not, maybe there was still a large enough crowd that she could slip up to her bed in the 6th year girl’s dormitory without anyone seeing her.



XXXXXXX



Pain. Heart wrenching, stomach crushing, soul burning pain. How could he… with that... After all she had done for him! Didn’t he have a clue how much she felt for him? Then her own voice rang out in her head.



But that’s just it isn’t it. You didn’t tell him because you are a bloody coward.



SHUT UP.



Why? You know it’s true.



NO! He should have told ME. Not the other way around.



Just keep telling yourself that.

 

Deep down she knew that Ron didn’t deserve all those pelts with the canaries. Yet, she felt justified in doing so. He was just so… smug about it all. She’d secured him a spot on the team and he repaid her by kissing Lavender like he was trying to suck her tongue out. If she could have just plucked up the courage and asked him if he felt anything for her.. or told him how she felt for him.. or….



No. It probably would have only caused problems and humiliation on her behalf. Apparently, he didn’t care for her as much as she did him. She didn’t think he could possibly be so thick as to not notice how much she fancied him. So she did the only thing she could think of. She let her anger rule her until she could run as far from the situation as possible, all the while remembering in vivid detail the last few minutes of her life…



The crowd was cheering Ron on when she walked through the portrait. Obviously the party was still going strong. Their housemates picked Ron up and shouted “WEASLEY IS OUR KING” while toasting their butter beers in his honor. She tried to slink past him but just when she thought she was in the clear, she saw Lavender run up to him like a woman possessed. Ron picked Lavender up and spun her around and…and.. snogged her, like he was trying to crawl into her body through her mouth… URGH.  She had to get out of there. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t blink, and she just couldn’t tear her bloody eyes away. It was like watching a horrible train wreck, unable to move while the carnage ensued. She was finally able to snap out of it just as Harry caught her attention and she ran full pelt out of the tower.

 

Harry had found her in the nearest abandoned classroom, trying to get her mind off what she had seen with the charm she had just learned in Flitwick’s class. He walked over and started to speak, complementing her proficiency at the charm. However, it seems that fate was against her today as it became apparent that Ron finally managed to separate from Lavender and quit sucking her lips like a sugar quill long enough for them to find someplace a bit more private. They came bursting in the room, Lavander giggling all the way. Lavander had the sense to back out of the classroom but Ron acted like she wasn’t even there!




THE NERVE! She was working on her canaries for charms, determined to stay ahead of the class until that great git and his slag showed up. Far be it from her to let a little thing like a broken heart interrupt her studies. When he completely ignored her and talked to Harry as if she wasn’t there, she saw red. How DARE he walk in so smugly with HER and pretend to be completely clueless. He should know EXACTLY what was wrong. He was acting like a dog that had just sniffed a bitch in heat. She just couldn’t help herself and sent those poor canaries flying into him after she screamed that she was fine. She did feel bad for the canaries, even if they were only a charm. Then she ran, choking back a sob as she slammed the door.



 And now she was still running, fighting the tears that threatened to spill. No one was allowed to see her cry. No one. It was the one thing she would never give anyone the satisfaction of seeing. She was a Gryffindor for Godric’s sake. Gryffindors are brave. Only Hufflepuffs wore their hearts on their sleeves. The only time someone had seen her crying was her first year. The troll incident would forever be ingrained in her memory. Truthfully, it made her leery of running off to the loo to try and find a sanctuary.

 

This year, it was even more important to keep her emotions in check. War was imminent and if anyone guessed that the sneering, teasing, and liberal use of the word ‘mudblood’ got to her, they could use it against her. To figure out that the Gryffindor princess could be completely brought to her knees by a snogging session held by her secret love, it would send her crashing to the floor of her delicate glass house.  She couldn’t let them see her weakness, not when Harry was counting on her. She needed to keep her wits about her to help him. It was his destiny to kill Voldemort or be killed. Her trivial problems meant nothing compared to his.

 

No, she had to get somewhere where she could finally give in to the pain and anguish. Just a good hard cry in a secret spot and she could get past the immediate trauma to her heart. Then, she could dry her eyes, square her shoulders, and become the untouchable know-it-all bookworm that everyone saw her as. She was an asexual being, a walking book, and didn’t have feelings like a normal girl.

 

She was almost there. She ran straight to the girl’s bathroom on the first floor that no one used. Despite her leeriness of the bathrooms, she had to find someplace completely deserted. For once, she was looking forward to a good cry with Moaning Myrtle. Misery always loved company and Myrtle was more than happy to oblige a good crying session. If anyone knew the pain of being unpopular and unattractive better than Hermione, it was Myrtle. She felt they were kindred spirits now. At first, she just saw Myrtle as a melodramatic ghoul, but now that she knew her story, she felt as though she understood her.

 

No one thought Hermione cared about her appearance but she did. She just didn’t know what to do about her unruly hair and potions and tonics seemed like a total waste of time. After all, she had used a full bottle of Sleak Easy potion to tame her hair for the Yule Ball. Not only was it time consuming, it was rather expensive! It wasn’t that she was poor; she just hated spending her money on frivolous things. She had finally decided to hide behind her bushy haired persona. It added to the untouchable façade she had created. Unfortunately, she WANTED to be touched, by Ron.

 

Blinded by pain and rage, she was only able to focus on the entranceway to Myrtle’s bathroom. She stumbled through, throwing locking and silencing charms at the door before she crumbled in a pathetic heap upon the floor, wailing like a banshee. She didn’t notice the other person that stumbled through the door with her.

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Failure. Pathetic. Worthless. Coward. You’re not worth the blood that flows through your veins, boy.



Draco had heard their remarks thousands of times a day. His first attempt at completing his mission had failed, albeit it a poor and half-hearted attempt in which he had endangered another’s life. Those words mocked him every waking minute and he relived the torture with every moment of sleep. He must complete the tasks set forth or he would lose the only thing he ever loved in his entire life, his mother. Then he would be killed.

 

He was just a child, caught up in a war that was one form of hypocrisy after another. He’d been taught for 16 years that pureblood was the only blood worthwhile. Others weren’t worthy of magic. They tainted everything that the Magical world held dear. Their blood was muddy and must be purged from the world. They were nothing but scum, inferior, fit for a life of squalor and servitude. How dare they steal something as pure as magic? His mind wrestled back and forth.



But was that entirely true? After all, the top of the class was a mudblood. She was as muddy as they came and yet, she beat him in everything except flying.



STOP IT! ENOUGH! Pure is the only way to be.



Oh ho ho, is it now? Are you sure about that? The Dark Lord himself is nothing but a power hungry half blood.




And that is what got him in this mess in the first place. His father, always the controlling, power hungry bastard, scraped and bowed to a mad man and destroyed his own family to carry out his master’s bidding. Malfoy’s were always on top and it didn’t matter whom you stepped on or the laws you broke or…ahem, BENT to get there. If cowering like a fool at the feet of a slimy scaled bastard got you to the top, so be it. He was told that before the Dark Lord tainted him, his father was a kind but reserved man who loved his wife. That all changed when that scarlet-eyed snake gained power.



He hated every moment of it. Sure he was thrilled at first. It was fun to be on top (as was his place in proper pureblood society), revered, respected, and idolized. He was the Prince of Slytherin. The house’s own royalty, sent to rule as recognition of power from his name and his riches. He was filthy rich, had his own bodyguards and a built in wife to rule by his side. The Dark Lord had entrusted him with a task, at 16 years old. A Death Eater at his age was unheard of and he would be rewarded above all others and avenge his father’s honor. What more could anyone want?

 

Except his bodyguards were little more than muscle bound puppets with strings and his future wife *shudder* was an ugly pug-faced slut and a bitch. She’d spread her legs for anyone who promised her a shred of power or fame. He hated that money hungry bint for all she was worth, but he had no choice. She was to be his, a REWARD for servitude from the Dark Lord. A gift, an incentive if you will, to keep the lines pure. HA. He could barely stand to touch her. He had to fantasize or use potions just to get it up.



While fighting to keep his face impassive as he ran toward the girl’s bathroom on the first floor that he knew was deserted to break down, he let his mind wander to his initiation and the tasks that would surely destroy him.



Voldemort was glaring at him in the middle of the drawing room of Malfoy Manor. His red eyes were piercing as he invaded Draco’s mind. “Ah, young Malfoy, you’ve come to atone for your father’s failure”



“Yes Milord” was Draco’s shaky reply. He’d learned occlumency from his Aunt Bellatrix and his godfather, Professor Snape, but knew that if he blocked the Dark Lord completely, he would torture him for daring. So, he sat as still as he could and concentrated on letting the Dark Lord sift through his mind and see what he wanted him to, keeping his revulsion and new revelations about blood purity to himself. After what seemed an eternity, the Dark Lord left his mind and seemed pleased at what he saw.



“Ah, I see that you are sincere in your will to serve me. However, young Malfoy, you must pay for your father’s severe mistake. Once you have done my bidding, the Malfoy name will be returned to its former glory and you will be rewarded above all others. You will earn a high place in my ranks for your victory and I will free your father from Azkaban. To show that I am a generous Lord, arise and look into the face of your new bride to be.”



Draco lifted only his head, still too terrified to stand. He hoped he could cover it by groveling at the feet of his Lord. When his eyes settled on Pansy’s face, he was so repulsed that he was unable to move for fear of retching.



“Young Malfoy, I said STAND and look upon the face of your reward. ”



“Sorry Milord. I’d rather worship you at your feet. I am not worthy of such a prize” Draco hoped that Voldemort couldn’t hear the fear and disgust in his voice. When he heard a hissing chuckle, he was afraid he was done for.



“Ah young Draco, you surely have learned to grovel well. I admire the fact that you know your place. Be warned, however, that no prize is given without a reason. Your job shall be of great importance.” Voldemort then turned to Pansy. “LEAVE US! We have much to discuss.”



Pansy scraped and bowed and she walked backwards from the room. “Yes Milord, whatever my Lord wishes,” she said over and over again in a sickeningly sweet voice as she disappeared through the large double doors.



Voldemort then turned back to Draco. “Now that we are alone, we have many things we need to go over. You must atone for your father’s failure. I have two tasks for you to complete.” He then turned to the door as two death eaters appeared. They were pulling the body of a woman across the floor. He could see the trail of blood the woman left as they dagged her. Although she was wearing a dark cloak, some of her light blond hair spilled out and Draco knew who it was instantly.



“Mother!” He yelled and immediately cringed when he had realized what he had done.



Voldemort sneered and pointed his wand at Draco’s chest. “CRUCIO!”.



Draco had no idea how long he’d been held under the curse. His flesh crawled, bones cracked, blood ran out his nose and mouth. His eyes felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets. He clawed the floor and tried not to scream out. He failed and screams were ripped from his lungs. His flesh broke open and he felt the edge of consciousness start to slip away. Just then, the curse was released.



Heaving on the floor, Draco heard the words he’d have burned in his memory the rest of his life. “You will do my bidding to atone for your father’s mistakes. If you don’t complete my tasks, I’ll finish your mother off while you watch. Your father will be next. Before I’m through with you, you’ll be begging for death.”



“Now, first things first young Malfoy, you will join us. Take my mark…”




Malfoy’s façade dropped just as he reached the bathroom. Blurry eyes prevented him from seeing the other person as he collapsed through the door. He was just cognizant enough to throw locking and silencing charms at the door before he started sobbing and let out a guttural groan.



XXXXXXXXXXXXX



The two howling students registered each other’s wails at the same time. Two heads jerked up in response. Molten silver met liquid gold in horrified alarm. Both were frozen on the floor with shock and fear. Slowly, awareness crept in. Anger replaced all emotions as both sets of eyes darkened. The two picked themselves up off the floor and stumbled backwards, wands pointed in each other’s faces.



“YOU!” They both screamed.



“What are you doing here you filthy little mudblood?” Malfoy sneered.



“I could ask you the same thing you, you stuck up prat.”



“I asked you first, mudblood. Wait!  Are those tears I see? What’s the matter, Weaslebee finally tell you he didn’t want your filthy mudblood germs on him?”



“SHUT UP MALFOY” Hermione screamed. “Wait, you’re crying! HA, the Prince of Slytherin cries like a baby!”



“I’m not crying you disgusting, filthy little mudblood.”



“I guess those large drops of liquid that are sliding down your face are just the effects of your eyes sweating? Hmm? Perhaps someone hurt your wittle arrogant pureblood feewings?”



“NEVER! How DARE you talk to me like that! You’ll pay for your insolence mudblood.”



“We’ll see, ferret.”



Suddenly, the deserted bathroom erupted in light as they drew their wands upon each other.





Streaks of purple, red, blue, green, yellow, and every combination of those colors flew through the air. Draco threw a nasty hex at Hermione and as she tried to dodge it, she slipped and fell to the floor. The sink behind her exploded. Porcelain shards flew through the air, shattering the mirror and slicing at her arms as she threw them up to shield her face. Draco started to throw another hex as the shards came towards him. He hesitated for just a second to dive out of their path. This gave Hermione enough time to throw a powerful hex at him that sent him flipping over backwards and into a bathroom stall door. He landed with a thud and slid down the door in a heap.



Thinking he was incapacitated, she bolted for the door just as he threw a jelly legs curse at her. Her legs wobbled and she skidded across the floor and hit the door full in the side. She heard something crack and felt a piercing pain radiate through her rib cage. She had probably broken a few ribs but she refused to cry out. As Malfoy flicked his wand again, she screamed EXPELLIARMUS but she was too slow. He had performed a sticking charm for his wand hand; the power from the blow picked him up and tossed him upside down into the far wall but did not dislodge his wand. A loud crunch was heard as his shoulder hit the floor.



Shaking with fear, anger, and pain, Hermione managed to crawl up to the door and try to open it. It was locked, of course. She forgot she had warded it when she entered. She tried reversing the spells she threw at it earlier but it was no use. The door didn’t budge. She heard Malfoy moving around and tried to find a place to hide, but there weren’t any. The bathroom was in a shambles; wood and porcelain were littered all over the floor. There was glass scattered everywhere from where the mirror had exploded. Quickly, she brought her wand up and disillusioned herself. If she could move slowly enough, Malfoy wouldn’t be able to see the tell tale ripples in the air. Her breathing was hitched as she slowly crawled toward a bathroom stall, careful to avoid stray glass, lest he see her blood from an accidental cut.



“Graaanngeeeeer” Draco screamed. He had seen her disillusion herself and did the same. His shoulder was useless. Pain radiated up through his arm and down his left side. He was left-handed and now he was going to have to fight with his right hand.



Great, just great, he thought. Now I’ll have to outsmart her and Merlin knows THAT isn’t going to be easy. They don’t call her the smartest witch of our age for nothing. He started wracking his brain to try and think of anything that would give him the upper hand.



Slowly, he stood, trying to ignore the pain. He scanned the room for signs of Granger. Suddenly, there was a creak and he threw a burning hex towards its direction, the stalls. He heard a gasp and fired again. A purple light shot out at him and he was flat on his back with his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Little did Granger know, he could do non-verbal and wandless magic. He wasn’t near as proficient or precise, but he could manage. He lifted his wand and smoke filled the room, making the ripples in the air easier to detect. He then reversed the spell Granger had thrown at him, which was quite a feat.



Damn it, thought Hermione. Her advantage had been blown. She had thrown a non-verbal spell at Malfoy to knock him down and stick his tongue to the roof of his mouth (she’d make sure NOT to tell Harry that she’d used one of the Half-Blood Prince’s spells) so he couldn’t throw anything else. She hadn’t expected for him to be able to cast non-verbal spells as she hadn’t seen him complete them successfully in their Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. She had ignored the rules of engagement. NEVER underestimate your opponent. CONSTANT VIGILANCE screamed through her mind, the words of Moody still seared there. Now he knew her location for sure. Going frantically over every spell and hex she had ever learned, she heard steps coming closer. Stilling her breathing, she located the ripples. He was less than 3 feet away from her.



They both raised their wands and screamed “PROTEGO”. Hermione was thrown into the wall; busting the loo. Water shot up in her face. She was gasping for air both from the impact knocking the wind out of her and the pain. Her leg had broken on collision with the toilet. Draco was thrown into the entrance door. His ankle snapped as he hit the floor and his elbow felt as if it were on fire. Pain wracked his body.



Malfoy figured he had better get out while he could. He hadn’t expected her to be so powerful. He might have been arrogant and proud, but he wasn’t stupid. Retreating was the best option. He reached up to open the door but it wouldn’t budge. Then he remembered the wards he had placed on it when he entered. He tried reversing his spells but the door still wouldn’t budge.



Now what? Malfoy ran through every option he could think of. They seemed evenly matched in a duel. Physical confrontation was out. Not only would he not stoop so low as to hit a female (even a mudblood), he couldn’t walk. His wand arm was useless and his right elbow was at an odd angle. He could still use it but he couldn’t aim very well. He wasn’t sure how Granger fared but if she still had use of just one arm, she could gain the upper hand. A TRUCE! It’s the only way he would make it out of here in one piece. Admitting defeat wasn’t even an option. His pride wouldn’t let him just give up. He decided to bet on the chance that she was the tiniest bit insecure in her ability to beat him.



“GRANGER! How about a truce? You’re in no shape to take me. Think about it. You’ll be able to leave here in one piece,” he wheezed, realized he had probably cracked a rib. Maybe if he could get her to think he would be merciful, she wouldn’t think him a coward.



“You lie MALFOY! You are in no shape to take me. You’re by the door. Why don’t you just leave?” Her voice was getting weaker. She was struggling to hold on to consciousness but she couldn’t let him win. She couldn’t let him prove to her that purebloods were better. It was what she had been fighting against since her first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.



Draco didn’t know what to do. On one hand, if they didn’t call a truce, they would end up killing each other, and for what, some stupid notion that he didn’t know if even believed in? Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure why they were dueling in the first place. It was now a battle of pride, not blood. Neither could stand to think the other had caught them at their weakest moment. Now they’d end up killing each other because of the fear of weakness itself.

 

Would it be so bad to die? Would the Dark Lord punish his parents for his failure? Would he kill them quickly or torture them endlessly because he let a mudblood best him? If he died, he at least wouldn’t become a murderer or a traitor. Well, he guessed he was still a traitor to his father’s cause for even daring to second-guess the Dark Lord. However, after years of searching what was left of his cold and hardened heart, he was starting to think that the light side was right. The only difference between his blood and Grangers were generations past. After all, he could see it all over the floor in the bathroom. Her blood was as red as his.

 

Maybe he should tell her the truth, not about his feelings but about the fact that they were trapped. Surely she had tried to open the door when he had thrown her up against it. They were trapped and if the silencing charms held, no one could hear them. No one came to this bathroom anymore. They didn’t want to deal with Myrtle.

 

Wait!! Myrtle! Maybe she could get help. That was it. Pointing out that they were trapped and eliciting a truce was the only way. But he couldn’t let anyone know what happened in that bathroom. Not only would the rumor that he was crying like a little girl bring his reputation crashing to the ground, but the fact that he had fought a student, one of the Golden Trio no less, would get him expelled. He couldn’t complete his tasks if he was expelled, and his mother’s life would be over.

 

He wavered on that last thought. He loved his mother dearly. He could care less what happened to his bastard of a father. He’d never seen the caring and loving side he supposedly harbored. The one his mother mourned every time Draco patched her back up from another drunken tirade. His mother was innocent. How many times had she subtly hinted for him to resist. She couldn’t just out right tell him to go the Order for help. He had taken her messages and warnings in stride, seeing no way around becoming everything his father wanted him to be. Now he knew his mother was right, and her life hung in the balance either way. No, he needed to figure out a way around this but he had to get out of the bloody bathroom first! 



Hermione fell from the wall in an unceremonious heap. She was soaking wet, bleeding, and barely coherent. Sparks of pain were shooting behind her eyes. It was like molten lava flowed through her veins. She’d managed to crawl out of the stall. Her disillusionment charm had ended and she could see that Malfoy’s had as well. Too exhausted to fight, she struggled to grasp her wand and point it at Malfoy just to make sure that she wasn’t about to be blindsided. No one could know what happened there today. She’d be expelled. She couldn’t be expelled! She needed to help Harry. The fate of the wizarding world depended on his success and he would need the help of his friends. Maybe a truce would be a good thing, provided Malfoy didn’t try to double cross her. He was a Slytherin after all.



He’d heard her fall to the floor. It sounded sickening, like a pumpkin smashing on rocks. It brought him back to his first Death Eater revel and made him want to vomit. He could still smell the blood; hear the screams of the muggles as they were slowly tortured to death. Their terror-filled eyes still haunted his nightmares. Each one brought him closer to his revelations. Draco looked over and saw Granger with her wand pointed at him. He decided to do some quick talking in hopes that she wouldn’t finish him off. He knew Gryffindors were honorable, but as much as she had just surprised him, he wasn’t so sure anymore. “In case you haven’t guessed Granger, we’re trapped. I can’t undo my wards and the door won’t budge. Let’s call a truce and get the hell out of here”



“Alright Malfoy. What kind of truce do you purpose?” She was weak and her quivering voice barely came out above a whisper. She figured the faster they figured out how to get out, the better. She didn’t know how much longer she could stay conscious and it was DEFINITELY a bad idea to be unconscious in the same room as Malfoy.



Here’s my chance, Draco thought. I’ve got to make sure we cover all the bases or we’ll both be in a world of shit. WAIT! BOTH? Where did THAT come from?



“All right Granger; let’s call a truce. No more trying to kill each other. No more hexes or curses. We’ll swear a wizard’s oath that nothing said, heard, seen, or done in this room leaves our mouths. You’ll find this works out for both of us. We both know we can use non-verbals, and how that could take away our advantages in a duel. If anyone knew what went on here today, we’d both be expelled. We both know what we were doing when we walked in here. We both know the damage this knowledge could cause to our reputations once we leave.

 

To insure BOTH our reputations as well as our future at Hogwarts, I purpose that we tell no one. Essentially, our story would be that we were jumped, beaten, petrified, dragged in here and we have NO recollection of anything that happened as soon as that door closed. What do you say Granger?” Please agree, he pleaded silently.



“What if I did agree Malfoy? What happens when we leave this room? What if they try to use legilimency or veritaserum? Dumbledore always seems to know what is going on, whether or not anyone tells him anything. The damage in here is certain to give us away. I mean, I know you are an excellent liar, but I’m not. Do you think we could effectively lie our way out of this one, just by claiming we couldn’t remember? Perhaps they’ll test our wands. They’ll show the last spells that we cast.” Please have thought of something, she silently pleaded.



She had a point. He’d hated to admit that but now he’d have to think of a way to cover everything up. How could you cover up a battle like the one they had just had? If the injuries alone weren’t evidence enough, the state of the bathroom certainly was. If they did test their wands, they’d know exactly what went on. Then his mother’s life was forfeit before he even thought of a way around his obligations. Think damn you ,THINK!

 

He had it! If they repaired the bathroom to it’s original state, then there would be no physical evidence of a battle. Their bodies would be suspicious, but the story that they had been jumped would cover for that. Then, if they tested their wands, the last incantations would be repairing charms. Hopefully, they could only look at the last performed charm instead of an entire day’s worth of use.



“I’ve got it! How much strength do you have left Granger? Think you can sit up enough to help me repair this place? If they can’t see the damage, they can’t blame us for it. If we can repair it and then have Myrtle find us some help, we could claim that someone jumped us, shoved us in here, and that we don’t remember anything else until Myrtle found us.”



“And our wands Malfoy?”



“That’s just a chance we’ll have to take. The last charms would be the repairing ones. We’d just have to hope that they didn’t make the connection.”



“And legilimency and veriteserum?”



Shit, he thought. She can’t know that I know occlumency. Or… she can’t tell that she knows. Then, I can figure out how good SHE is at occlumency! BRILLIANT!



“They can’t use veriteserum on students, remember Granger? Umbridge isn’t here anymore. Lets take the oath first, Granger. Then we’ll work on the mind reading”



Uh oh, she thought. He can’t know I know occlumency. Wait, with the oath he can’t tell. Then, I can figure out how good HE is at occlumency. BRILLIANT! But, I’ve got to cover everything first. Can’t have him find a loophole.



“All right Malfoy, but want to make it perfectly clear. Nothing that we reveal in this room will leave this room, even AFTER the oath. Nothing until that door opens, got it? I also want an Unbreakable Vow… in blood.”



“Fine with me Granger”



“Deal. Let’s repair everything first.”



The two got to work. It seemed to take forever; each movement was laced with pain. Finally, the bathroom was righted. The blood was scourgified and all the fixtures were back in place. They left it in its original run down condition. It would be too suspicious if the bathroom were suddenly gleaming after 50 years of neglect. They had finally found Myrtle, who was on her way to find a professor. They made the mistake of telling her they were left there to die. She was so excited that she almost refused to get help. They finally convinced her that they would come to visit her anytime they could and she reluctantly agreed to get a professor. It didn’t hurt that they both mentioned that they would most definitely be crossing over if they died.

 

They decided it was time. The two were already cut up and bleeding from their prior fight. They grasped arms and took the oath that they had agreed upon and red light swirled around them. They were careful to keep a passive face so the other one wouldn’t be tipped off that their intentions were less than honorable. The vow was sealed with a green light.



Suddenly, they both got a wicked gleam in their eyes.



“LEGILIMENS” they screamed in chorus.



Both were pushed back a little on the floor. Images swirled across their minds simultaneously. It was as if someone had created a muggle movie and spliced their lives together. Neither could block the other and neither could stop the spell.





Hermione was lying in bed reading a book. She was 7 years old. Her father walked in. “Hey sweet girl, time to go to bed”



“But daddy, I’m not tired. I want to finish this book.”



“Sorry pumpkin, but it’s time to go to bed. You have to go to school tomorrow.”



“Please just let me finish this chapter?”



“Oh alright, what are you reading?”




“Oh daddy, it’s about Merlin and King Arthur and his knights of the round table and..”



“I like that one,” Mr. Granger cut in. “I’ll stay here until you finish this chapter and then I’m taking the book with me. I know you’ll stay up and finish it if I don’t,” he said with a chuckle as he tapped her nose.




When she finished the chapter, she tried to slyly turn the page so her father couldn’t see.



“I saw that young lady. I’ll just take this and wish you sweet dreams. Good night.”



“Night daddy,” she said with a defeated sigh. She really wanted to finish the book. She wished with all her might that the book would come back to her. Just then, a flash of light escaped her hand and the book flew back into her arms. She and her dad were stunned and stared at each other.







It was the first time Hermione discovered she had magic. It was both exhilarating and terrifying because she had no idea what was going on. Her parents started to become leery and afraid of her. She didn’t know whether that was a happy memory or a sad one. She tried to force him out of her mind but she couldn’t.







“Higher, father, higher!” Draco was only 5 years old and his father had just purchased a starter broom for him.



“Calm yourself, Draco. Malfoy’s don’t yell. Now, if you’re ready, we’ll go higher.”



Draco squealed in delight and was immediately popped on the head with his father’s cane.



“Malfoy’s don’t squeal! Now, back to the lesson. Tighten your grip. Hug the broom, one foot behind the other. Good, very good. Now, it’s time to land.”



“I don’t WANT to land father,” little Draco said with a whine in his voice and a pout on his pale pointed face.



“ENOUGH!” Lucius shouted. “You will do as I say or face the consequences. ”



“Yes sir,” mumbled Draco as he began his decent. When he touched the ground, his father patted his shoulder and told him well done. Draco beamed. “Thank you father. I love you.”



Lucius snorted and walked off. He stopped right before the doorway to the manor. “You’ve lost your broom privileges for a week. Maybe by then you will learn to obey me the first time.” With a flourish of his hair, he stalked back into the house.








Draco’s cheeks flushed. He realized that even his happiest moments in life were overshadowed by his father’s coarse words. He didn’t want Granger to see anymore. It was too personal. He tried to break the connection but was unable. Another memory came across his eyes.







“I don’t know WHAT happened!” insisted a 10-year-old Hermione. She was looking at a collapsed dining table in the middle of her kitchen. Tears streamed down her face as she pleaded with her parents. She truly didn’t know why the table had collapsed. She had just gotten angry because her mother insisted she eat her Brussels sprouts and the table immediately collapsed, taking all the food with it.



“Look Hermione, we know there is something odd going on with you. I thought you said that you wouldn’t do this again. Last time, you blew up the coffee pot! There was the time your bed levitated off the ground. Don’t forget when you burned that tree in the backyard to the ground. You’re scaring us and we just don’t know if we can keep doing this,” her mother said as she sank to the ground in despair. She had no idea what was wrong with her daughter. She’d tried every psychologist in town and couldn’t come up with anything.



Hermione shouted, “I’m not a freak!” and ran from the room.








Hermione was shaking from anger and fear. She didn’t want Malfoy to know that her own parents had thought she was a freak at first. They accepted the fact that she was a witch after she’d gotten a visit from McGonagall that afternoon. It took hours of discussion and a few demonstrations, but they accepted their daughter and eventually, they got used to it. They grew to support her fully.



She had to break this connection, but she found she couldn’t speak or think the words to finish the spell. She started trying to bang her head on the floor in an attempt to make it stop. Just then, another memory floated by her eyes.







”All right mother, I’ve got the healing bag.”



11-year-old Draco walked into his mother’s room carrying a bag full of healing potions and creams. Narcissa Malfoy was lying in bed. The right side of her face was black and blue. Her lips were busted and bleeding.  Her arm was up in a sling. She turned to look at her son with tears in her eyes.



“Did he see you?” Her voice quivered and she visibly shook.



“No mother, he’s gone out. I made sure he left first. Tippy is getting some tea and calming drought for you and she promised to warn me if he came back.”



Draco began rubbing the cream on his mother’s face. Carefully, he tipped a potion down her throat. The bruises started fading and the cuts healed. He took a wet cloth and washed the blood from her lips. He was so tender that it was heartbreaking to watch. He gently wiped the tears from her eyes as he stroked her hair. He undid the sling and had his mother straighten her battered arm. She nodded and he took her wand and carefully moved it over her hand and muttered a complex spell. Her arm started to heal and the bones fused back together.



“Oh my sweet boy. I can’t believe you’ve mastered that spell. You must tell no one. I’m so ashamed that I couldn’t protect you.”



“Hush now mother, you need your strength. We don’t know when he’ll be back. Are you sure you’ll be okay without me? I’m going to Hogwarts tomorrow.”



“Yes sweetheart, I’ll be okay. Just hide the potion bag somewhere that Tippy can find it.”








Draco was shaking with fury. He recalled that horrible day in vivid detail. His father had come home in a drunken stupor upon finding out that Harry Potter was to return to Hogwarts. Draco was playing with his nanny, a house elf named Dotty. He berated Draco for his weakness and started to curse him. His mother stepped in front of him, screaming for his mercy. His father backhanded her and she landed in a heap against the wall. He kicked at her side and she automatically put her arm up to block it. He called her dozens of horrible names. An odd sort of emotion almost resembling regret crossed his eyes and then he turned and left.

 

Draco waited until he was sure his father was gone before he yelled for his mother’s personal house elf, Tippy, to have her help him get his mother into bed. It wasn’t anything new. His father forbade her to see a healer. It wouldn’t do to have anyone meddle in private family affairs. Draco had healed her so many times that he had become expert at the most complicated healing spells. His mother was always careful to have him use her wand so as to trick the underage magic laws.



He couldn’t let Granger see anymore. It was too painful, too personal, and most of all, it confirmed everything everyone thought of him. He was weak and a coward. He wasn’t strong enough to stand up to his own father. He tried once again to break the connection but another surge of memories flashed through his mind.







Hermione was crying in Hagrid’s hut. It was the day he had called her a mudblood. Ron was puking up slugs. Hagrid gave words of comfort to Hermione.



Hermione was receiving the time turner from McGonagall.



Hermione was huddled in a hallway crying because Harry and Ron were mad at her for turning in Harry’s broom.



Hermione was screaming at Ron at the Yule ball after he ruined her date by calling her a harlot.



Hermione was hugging Harry on the bridge before the second trial of the tri-wizard cup.



Hermione was battling Dolohov at the Ministry of Magic while Lucius and Harry squared off. She seized in pain when Dolohov threw a nasty curse at her and then everything went black.



Hermione was watching Ron and Lavender snog in the common room.








Hermione started wracking her brain, or what little of it she could use, trying to stop the flood of memories pouring from her mind. It seemed that there was a thick fog and there was nothing she could do to clear it and stop the spell. Her walls just wouldn’t come down. All of her personal moments came spilling out, things that Malfoy shouldn’t see, things that could endanger lives. Suddenly the fog cleared and she tried to end the spell but her mind clouded over once more and a flood of memories came crashing into her mind.







Draco was holding his hand out to Harry and telling him not to make the wrong sort of friends.



Draco was huddled in the floor of his room. Blood was coming out of his nose and mouth. He’d just taken a nasty hex from his father over Christmas break because Granger had beat his grades and Potter had bested him at Quidditch once again.



Buckbeak attacked Draco. He was lying in the infirmary being yelled at by his father for being dim-witted and humiliated by Potter.



Draco was tending to his mother’s broken bones his 4th year summer. She had tried to stop the cruciatis curse from being thrown at Draco.



Draco was having sex with Pansy. His eyes were screwed shut. When she fell asleep, he got up, ran to the loo, and threw up.



Draco was kneeling before the Dark Lord. His father’s hand was on his shoulder. The Dark Lord told Lucius that he was too young to pledge; even with the pull he had in the ranks. Draco was visibly shaking. The Dark Lord called him a coward and crucioed him until he passed out. The last sound was of Lucius laughing.








Draco screamed. Even reliving that last moment in his life just in his mind brought back the pain. He tried in vain to make the connection stop.







Hermione was sitting in the common room. Harry was explaining everything about Tom Riddle’s past and the prophecy that Dumbledore had revealed to him so far.







Hermione screamed. She had just endangered Harry’s life and the advantage the Order had over Voldemort.







Draco was kneeling in front of the Dark Lord. His mother lay in a heap in front of him. He was bleeding from his eyes, nose, and mouth. His arm was oozing blood and the smell of burning flesh hung in the air, making him gag. The Dark Lord told him he was to kill Dumbledore and get the Death Eaters into the school.







Draco decided he’d had enough. He’d just compromised his mission and in turn, endangered his mother. He screamed and somehow found the strength to call out.



“Granger. On my lead, yell the end of the spell. 1…2…3“



“FINITE INCANTATUM” they both screamed. Then the world went dark.



 




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