Neither Harry nor Ron stopped by later that day.
Hermione fell in and out of a light sleep for several hours, waking many times to the sound of footsteps in the hall. Watching the door through partially open eyes, she longed for her two close friends.
Ron and Harry would walk in, arms around each others’ shoulders, laughing about a recent pick –up Quidditch game. Harry would tousle Ron’s red messy hair and Ron would turn and playfully punch Harry’s shoulder. Their eyes would find hers, and both would hurry to the bedside. Ron would sit beside her and Harry would pull up a chair. They would look her over, Ron pushing Hermione’s brown, curly hair from her face. They would realize that she was all right. After a few tense moments, the three of them would be happy again, smiling, falling into a close hug – just like the old times
Hermione glanced at the door. To no avail, the light tapping of shoes once again faded as quickly as they had arrived. As she rubbed her swollen eyes, a dull pain pushed its way to the surface and Hermione winced. As long as she was awake and feeling the pain of both her injuries and events of the morning, her friends would not return as she yearned for.
The dreary afternoon evolved into a dark and stormy night. The conditions outside seemed to mirror Hermione’s mood impeccably. Hermione had moved from the confines of her bed to her chair. Furiously chewing on her thumb nail, she was no longer gloomy and dejected, she was livid. How could she have made such a mistake?
Not only was she ashamed for her earlier actions, she could no longer envision a time when she would not feel awkward around her two best friends. She finally had her closest mates back in her life and she had spoiled any semblance of once again living “normal,” just like the old times. And now, she had also possibly ruined the relationship with her only close girl friend.
“Ouch!”
She had not been paying attention to her stress-induced actions. Noticing the blood running down her thumb, she stuck it in her mouth.
Grumbling to herself, Hermione reached for her wand. Much to her chagrin, the hospital gown she was wearing was lacking and didn’t have enough material to cover her fully, let alone provide for an extra pocket that might contain a wand. Remembering that St. Mungos didn’t allow patients to have wands, she rolled her eyes at her own inane behavior.
Another strong wave of displeasure slapped Hermione with a vengeance.
How did she ever get herself into this mess?
Hermione rose from the chair and knelt on the bed to look out the window pane. She could see three people passing by a street lamp, huddled under an unfortunately small umbrella. Pushing her hair behind her ears, Hermione sighed.
If she hadn’t been here at St. Mungos, she and Harry wouldn’t have kissed. If she hadn’t been in the explosion, she wouldn’t have been here. If she hadn’t had a rough day, they would have gone to a normal wizarding pub and not the café down the street. She wouldn’t have had a rough day if she hadn’t heard the nonsense from the bag lady in the park.
This was all a simple coincidence, right?
At that moment a flash of lightning reflected off the window pane causing Hermione to jump back. A loud clap of thunder soon followed. The sidewalk and road outside, currently being pelted with hail, was not surprisingly devoid of all human existence.
She had a hard time believing in fortune tellers or prophecies, even when one had involved Harry. Professor Trelawney, the Seer who had made the prediction about the “birth of a wizard with the power to vanquish Voldemort” had very rarely forecasted anything else correctly. The gift of true divination was not common. So how had this woman in the park happen upon them, with the direct intent of speaking to her, and to top it off, spit out a riddle about her supposed future?
Hermione replayed the riddle in her head.
Black, white, red. Love and hate are tricky things, so try not to end up dead. Thrice the gentlemen you will know, one will expire by your blow. As long as the secret is not kept, a lover, friend and enemy will be set.
Black, white, and red could very possibly relate to the “thrice the gentleman,” but how? Hermione ran through various combinations of possibilities with the men that she knew. Names, re-ordering the letters, abbreviations, different languages. Perhaps the colors didn’t represent the gentlemen.
“Black, white, red...” Hermione repeated it out loud this time. She let her mind wander beyond the backdrop of the window pane.
Hermione gasped.
“Could it possibly be that obvious?” Once again speaking to herself.
Hair color was the distinct contrast of the golden trio, besides the fact that they consisted of two guys and one girl. How had she not seen this before? Hermione’s breathing accelerated. Had she discovered the players that the riddle had been suggesting?
Harry had such dark brown hair that it could be considered black. Ron has hair the color of fire. But what about the white hair?
She closed her eyes to concentrate. White hair! A lingering memory came to the forefront. A familiar light tracing of cold fingers against her jaw line, the warm breath against her neck, the soft white blonde hair tickling her cheek. Hermione’s face turned crimson.
Her eyes fluttered open as she shrieked.
A dark hooded figure was staring back at her through the window. Hermione stumbled backwards off the bed and fell to the floor.
St. Mungos was concealed behind an abandoned red-brick London department store called Purge and Dowse, Ltd. on a muggle street. A sign had been placed on the front that the store, stating "Closed for Refurbishment." No one should be able to see her as the windows were magically darkened. She probably had been overreacting. The person had just been looking at his drenched reflection.
Glancing back at the window, the figure was gone. Hermione decided that she needed some air. Surely the staff would allow that. Hermione was set to be discharged tomorrow morning, so she’d be fine just walking in the court yard, using the overhang for shelter.
Slowly, staggering back to her feet, she realized she had grown weak during the past few days of bed rest. Regaining her balance, Hermione searched for something, anything to put over her hospital gown. Finding some slippers in a basket underneath her bed, Hermione grabbed her top blanket and threw it around her shoulders.
“I can only imagine how I look right now.” She muttered, flattening her hair with her hands. Peering around the room one last time with hopes of seeing an overlooked robe, a deafening boom reverberated through room. The overhead lights flickered with a fading desperation and subsequently went out.
Hermione couldn’t help but feel a twinge of uneasiness. Shaking back her troubled thoughts, she regained her composure.
“So much for being a magical hospital! My luck! Hopefully I don’t see any black cats, not for my sake – but theirs. I wouldn’t want them to have seven years of bad luck for just crossing my path!”
Tightening the blanket around her shoulders, Hermione took a deep breath. Pushing her door open, she peered both ways and slowly shuffled into the pitch black hall.
***
The rain was pouring down in cold, icy sheets. Puddles were turning into small lakes in the courtyard of the hospital. Lightning lit the sky just long enough for Draco to notice a paper cup float past him.
Sitting on a bench shivering violently, the young man was soaked to the core. After being discharged, he hadn’t apparated to his flat as instructed. Instead, he came outside to subject himself to the harsh elements. With conditions such as these, Draco was able to be truly alone.
Silently questioning the need for his drenched jacket, Draco slid off his pea coat, guarding his sore arm. Rubbing his hands together, he caught a glimpse of a snake’s head peering out at him from below his left white sleeve. As black as onyx, the tattoo was slightly risen and appeared to be slithering back and forth underneath his skin.
Draco closed his eyes and attempted to hear the new message that had been communicated.
He immediately felt sick. Hunching over, Draco wrapped his arms around his stomach and began to dry heave. A feeling of lightheadedness overtook him. Unable to stop himself, Draco rolled forward off of the bench and into the frigid, muddy water below.
“Malfoy?!?”
He heard a familiar voice yell from the door leading out to the courtyard.
Pushing himself up to his knees, slowly, he looked up. Through the blinding rain, he could not identify his caller.
“Go Away! I am fine.” He called out unsteadily as the violent tremors had taken over his body again.
“To bloody hell you are fine!”
He heard the sound of splashing feet head toward him. Wiping the dirt from his face he struggled to get up. He successfully made it back up to the bench and was now strongly contemplating disapparating from the spot.
His caller was about a foot away from him now in a gown and holding what looked to be a blanket over her head. While only being out in the rain for a few moments, she stood there completely soaked. Her long eyelashes batting away the rain drops and her long brown hair was sticking to her face.
“Gra - Granger?” He sat there, stuttering through his chattering teeth. He gawked. The gown no longer left anything to the imagination.
“DRACO MALFOY! What are you doing here?! What are you doing out here?!”
“Whoa, Wha -What?” He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.
“Do I need to repeat myself again, or should I grab a pencil and parchment and spell it out for you? If we stay out here any longer we will both get pneumonia and die!”
Her voice was rising quickly, but he couldn’t tell if it was because she was angry, worried, scared, or a combination of the three. Hermione was watching him carefully, with an unknown thought playing behind her deep brown eyes.
“Granger, if you kn - know what’s good for you, then let me be.” Draco gave her his best snarl despite his shuddering.
“No.”
Much to his surprise, Hermione shook her head and quietly took the blanket that she had been shielding herself with and slung it over his shoulders. She blinked at him.
“Now would you follow me inside, please? Because I would prefer not to have the guilt of knowing I let someone die outside in the cold rain, even if he is a heartless snake.”
Her comment drifted from her lips as if she was inviting him to a dinner party, but her name for him stung his soul. He flinched unexpectedly.
“Thanks. Well then a little he -help here, Granger?”
Draco lifted his shaking hand up to Hermione, and she pulled him off of the bench. Letting go immediately once he was standing and stable, she hurriedly made her way back the door. Draco followed a few steps behind her.
Upon reaching the overhang, Draco felt a surge of new energy pulsating through the dark mark on his arm. He groaned, unable to decipher the new significance of the pain and fervently pulled at his sleeve to cover his dark mark.
“I can’t believe you were sitting out there in the cold rain!”
He heard her say from ahead as she made her way through the entrance. She stopped suddenly, staring inside the building.
“Out of all the places you could possibly be, you are at St. Mungos? Why are you here? And in the rain! What has gotten into you? I think you need to see a healer!”
He held himself tightly looking down at his feet. Should he even bother answering her onslaught of questions? Harry was right. She did not remember what truly happened during the explosion. He looked at the slim brunette with her wet hair cascading over her shoulders and her hands over her hips. Her gown was tied tightly behind her.
She twisted slightly, and eyed him over her left shoulder. She appeared hesitant.
“I hope they have gotten the lights back on though, or it might be hard to find one.”
“Granger. What did yo -you say?”
Hermione turned fully now and watched him suspiciously. Something was really bothering her.
“I was saying that you need to see a healer. Malfoy, why are you really here?”
“No, not what I was asking. You said the power is out?” Draco spoke in a low voice.
Hermione began to laugh nervously.
“Are you serious? You are afraid of the dark? How long have you been sitting out in that rain? Have you completely lost your marbles?”
“Damn it.” Draco felt the return of uneasiness fill the pit of his stomach.
He took a step towards her and spoke again in a hushed tone.
“Granger, we have to lea -leave. “ He wished he would stop shaking.
Hermione’s laughs cut short. Her eyes grew wider as she began to nervously pull on her hair.
“What? Malfoy, I am a patient here, if you haven’t noticed,” gesturing to her gown. She narrowed her eyes at him in an accusatory fashion.
“I am in no position to leave here. Even if I was, why would I leave with you?”
He lifted his right hand and placed it on her cheek, giving her the most innocent and sincere look he could muster at the moment.
“Please trust me. I really can’t explain right now. What I do know is that we have to leave this place now. Are you strong enough to get us out of here?”
Hermione relaxed. Bringing her left hand up to her face, she slipped it over his. Without a moment’s notice, she took her other hand and slapped Draco hard across the face.
“Ouch! Why the hell did you do that?” Draco forced a loud whisper and pulled his hands to his stinging face.
“I don’t know what has gotten into you, Draco Malfoy. Whatever it is, I sure don’t like it.” Hermione glared at him and took a half step back through the door and into the dark hall.
Draco should have known she would act like this. This was Hermione Granger, not one of those simple minded girls he could always have his way with.
Obviously, Hermione wasn’t going to go for a sweet Draco. He rolled his eyes as they were wasting precious time. He thought for a second and held his breath. To get her to leave with him, he was going to have to tell her.
“Actually, you have to do this for me. You are in debt to me,” he shot back at her, controlling his tremors.
Hermione whirled around. “What did you just say?!”
He had the full attention of the brown haired girl.
“I said that you are in debt to me. I was the one who saved you from the explosion,” he hissed.
Hermione’s face fell and a nervous air returned. She spoke in a soft monotone voice.
“No you didn’t. Harry did.”
Draco’s original plan was to not have anyone know that he had saved Hermione, besides him and Harry. It would put too many things at risk. Despite all of this, he did enjoy finally taking the credit of his one good deed.
“That is what he told you, I suppose.” Draco took a step closer to Hermione.
She wasn’t blinking, and as far as he could tell, she wasn’t breathing either. He gave her a crooked smile. Draco was good at this.
“He said he told you that he used the “Accio” spell to retrieve you. But you’re a smart girl. You and I both know that you cannot “call” someone. If that was the case, one of the Dark Lord’s followers would have acquired Harry and killed him even before Voldemort regained power.”
Draco watched as Hermione’s fallen face turned into one of horror and confusion.
“Without any more questions – we need to get out of here. Trust me, will you?”
Draco watched intently as the shell shocked Hermione walked towards him. Reaching out her now shaking hands, she grabbed both of his in one quick movement.
He heard her utter, “Lord, please help me.”
Pushing herself against him, Draco felt her body heat through the wet gown. His shaking subsided and he closed his eyes.
Wishing that the moment could last forever, Draco began to feel the familiar pull of apparition. Before he knew it, they were gone.
***
The two travelers landed unceremoniously on a wooden floor.
“Where are we?” Malfoy asked.
Hermione opened one eye to survey her surroundings. It looked like both of them were in one piece. A small part of her wished she would have left by herself, or that he would have gotten partially lost in the process. Closing her eye again, she remained on the floor.
“Well?” Her guest prompted her again. She heard him shift to his feet and began to explore the room.
“It’s my flat in London.” She groaned. The side by side apparition took a lot of energy; energy she did not know she had. Still not completely sure why she decided to follow Malfoy’s orders, she felt ignoring the situation was probably her best bet right now.
“It’s a pretty nice place, Granger. Despite all of these muggle inconveniences, of course.” She heard a dry laugh followed by the sound of a light switch.
“Wands always beat the competition. Incendio!”
The fireplace in front of her came to life, which felt good against her cold body.
“Granger, are you all right?” Malfoy walked up to her. He nudged her with his shoe.
She nodded, but internally, she was wildly shaking her head. No she was not fine!
Prophecy, explosions, kissing a friend and hurting another, finding out she was possibly lied to by the friend she kissed, and now she had trusted a known enemy. She was a lot of things right now, but definitely not fine.
“Do you want help up?” His voice was quieter this time.
“Sure, Malfoy why not? Now that we’re good buddies, why don’t you just stick around and stay awhile? We’d roast marshmallows, and then you could sleep in my bed with me. We’d chat for hours, like old times.” Her words dripped with sarcasm.
She heard Malfoy choke. He was staring at her in a way that made her very self-conscious. Looking down, Hermione crossed her arms over her chest attempting to hide anything that might be visible. She blushed.
Malfoy bent over her and scooped Hermione into his arms and made his way over to her couch in the back of the living room. This surely was not Malfoy! Maybe he got hypothermic in the rain and lost his brain. What time was it? She was beyond tired! And she truly enjoyed the feeling of being carried.
Catching a side glimpse at Malfoy, she realized that he had taken off his white shirt and draped it on the floor in front of the fire. He was quite striking. The flames from the fire danced along the side of his face and his silvery eyes shone in the darkened room. Malfoy set her down on her couch and stood in front of her. His wet blonde hair was spiky as he must have just run his hand through it. Without thinking, Hermione’s eyes dropped.
“Like what you see Granger?” She saw a smirk creep upon his face and he cocked his right eye brow. He watched her intently.
She immediately turned her head towards the foot of the couch and blushed again deeply.
“Not in a million years, ferret face. You remember that nickname from school? You still look like one.”
“Well despite what I look like, the viewing show is over. I am afraid I have to leave.”
Malfoy’s smirk disappeared as he glanced back at the clock over the mantle. He paced the length of the room and moved closer to the fire.
“What? Where are you going? You still never told me why we left!” Hermione sat up and looked back to the figure facing the fire.
“I told you that I couldn’t explain and I am not sorry for that. You are going to have to stay here a while though, for which I am sorry.”
“You can’t make me stay here! But if you could, why would you be sorry about that?”
Hermione’s past few days had been a whirlwind and she gulped. She was on the verge of tears.
“In fact, unfortunately, I can.” Malfoy said in a flat tone. He took a deep breath and removed his wand from his back pocket. Turning quickly, appearing to be in a duel, he aimed his wand at Hermione.
“Incarcerous!”
A small translucent rope snaked out of the wand and slid around Hermione, binding her tightly to her couch.
“MALFOY!” Hermione cried out. She had made another mistake. This one might have possibly cost her, her life. Perhaps Malfoy would be the one to hurt her? She didn’t have her wand, she couldn’t kill him first.
“Please don’t kill me… or hurt me,” she pleaded. Tears began to flow from Hermione’s eyes.
Malfoy’s eye brows flew up and then a sense of realization formed on his handsome pale face. He frowned. “I don’t think I’m going to be the one that tries to kill you Granger. Just, please, don’t murder me in the process. Unless, of course, I deserve it.”
Hermione struggled against the magical rope. With a red face and blood shot eyes, she felt defeated. She had been the smartest in her class back at Hogwarts and all the way through her training. Why had she trusted this back stabber? Who and what was she supposed to believe anymore?
“So if you don’t intend to harm me, why do you have me tied up?”
She had no idea what was going on, and everything in her life was no longer making sense. So what if he had saved her from the explosion? What was she going to lose if she spoke her mind? Hermione’s pulse quickened and she was fuming.
“You know, you shouldn’t be free right now, Malfoy! You are as evil as your father! You deserve to be in Azkaban!”
Malfoy walked up to her slowly, and then lifted her chin harshly. His eyes were full of anger.
“You WILL stay here. Don’t make any stupid decisions while you are tied up. The binding will wear off in a few hours.”
With that, Malfoy stepped back and silently watched her for a few moments. Hermione thought she saw the anger in his eyes replaced with sorrow. Before she fully registered this, however, Malfoy closed his eyes and disappeared.
Hermione sat in silence as she stared at the one thing that remained in her guest’s absence.
Malfoy’s right foot, just below his ankle, sat in front of the fireplace. This was too much for her to handle. Hermione tried to scream, but nothing left her throat.
Malfoy had not been strong enough to apparate. Hermione looked away from the dismembered part. Where had he been going? Well, he wouldn’t get very far once he arrived. Did a person bleed if they left a part behind? All Hermione remembered about apparition class was that Ron left one of his eye brows during an attempt to apparate. With just one eye brow, it had taken a series of complex spells just to get the two reunited.
Hermione felt all of the events from the day hit her at once. The arrival of the waterfall of tears was not far to follow. She felt naked without her wand which was still at St. Mungos. All she could do was wait for the spell to wear off. Then what would she do?
****
Hermione must have dozed off.
She was suddenly awakened by the roar of a siren bellowing from her fire place. Moving to get a better look, Hermione found herself still bound by the magical ropes.
In front of the dampened fire was a holographic image of a tall black man, muscles pulling tightly at the black suit he was wearing. She immediately recognized him. It was Kingsley Shacklebolt, the minister of magic. The minister stood there patiently as he stared ahead into the room. Hermione had never had a problem with the holographic announcements before but at this moment she wished that he was not a hologram and could actually see her tied to the couch.
“Attention Citizens of the Ministry,” He began gravely. Hermione’s heart dropped to her stomach.
“I apologize for the hour of this message. However, there have been two significant events that I need to report."
“To begin, St. Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries has been attacked. Death Eaters, followers of the late dark lord, are believed to be responsible. Witnesses claim to have seen Draco Malfoy leading this assault, however their motive is unclear. It appears that all have been accounted for, whether dead or alive, with the exception of Ms. Hermione Granger and Mr. Ronald Weasley. These citizens, if you remember, were recently hurt in a fire at a local pub, but most importantly, paramount in the destruction of the dark lord. We have reason to believe that these two have been taken hostage by the Death Eaters.”
“To continue, there has also been a break out at Azkaban. Lucius Malfoy, as well as two others, were discovered missing from their cells late this evening. Extra security has been called in to ensure that the location of the breach will be discovered and will be dealt with.”
“At this time, if anyone has any information on the whereabouts of the father son team, Lucius and Draco Malfoy, any Death Eaters, or suspicious dark activities, please contact the Auror department of the Ministry of Magic immediately."
“Our thoughts and prayers go out to all of the families touched by these attacks. Evil will not be tolerated. We will notify you of any updates as we receive them."
Minister Shacklebolt nodded and disappeared immediately upon the completion of his speech.
“Ron!”
She cried out towards the fireplace, knowing that no one would hear her. Moving against the magical ropes, she began to panic. What would happen to him? She could only imagine what horrors he must be going through. If she had been truly kidnapped, maybe they would have been kept together?
Hermione felt a sickening feeling begin to chew at her insides. How did she even know that the Death Eaters planned to keep him alive? If she had stayed, would she have been taken too, and possibly killed? She hoped that Ron’s last memory of her would not be that of Harry and her kissing.
Her head began to spin. She couldn’t remember when she had last eaten. Would these ropes hold her up if she passed out? Hermione felt like she would cry again, but no tears came.
It had seemed like decades had passed since that morning’s activities. Hermione looked for the clock, but the room was too dark for her to read it. She hoped that Malfoy was not lying about the rope spell fading after a few hours. No one would think of looking for Hermione here, at her own flat, after the St. Mungos attack.
All Hermione could do was sit there in a pool of her own disturbing thoughts and memories. She lowered her head and closed her eyes for sleep. Much to her dismay, the events of the past few days were waiting for her and began to play out on the back of her eyelids.
What was she supposed to believe anymore? Had she been saved by Harry? Malfoy claimed to have saved her, which was backed up by Ron from the conversation in the hospital. However, mister savior himself then turned around and made her a prisoner in her own home. Because of Malfoy’s actions, Hermione was now a sitting duck for the Death Eaters, if and when they decided to retrieve her.
After auror training, both Harry and Ron had come back changed, darker, less emotional. When they returned, Ron was more hesitant around Hermione and Harry and Ron were continually bickering. Now that she thought about it, Harry and Ron had been tense with each other since training. And what was this, Malfoy saying that he had spoken with Harry? Since when does Harry and Malfoy confide in each other? Maybe Malfoy had kidnapped Harry?
With her life turned upside down, Hermione could trust no one. Her life was in danger. Pondering the notion of who would be more dangerous, she thought hard about the Death Eaters, as well as the three men mentioned in the prophecy.
Hermione sighed.
Now, more than ever, she had an overwhelming feeling that the prophecy was truly real. Hermione also began to accept the fact that although one man might love her, one of the three was also very dangerous. She had an inkling about who would earn that title, but was she in the mood to gamble with her life? Hermione had always beaten the odds before, but perhaps her luck had just run out.
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