Harry had seen the bag woman slip in through some thick thatches and brush, but was unable to catch sight of her. His weak jog slowed as he attempted to regain his breath. Stopping at an oak tree, he bent over with his hands on his knees, trying to take more oxygen into his sore lungs. If he had been properly rested he could have scoped the park easier, quicker.
“Ye aight sonny?”
Harry’s already racing heart lept into his throat. This was the raspy voice that had played over and over in his memories and nightmares.
“You..” He tried to distinguish his voice from his heavy breathing. Harry struggled to straighten himself up against the large tree, pieces of bark snagging his traveling cloak. He could feel his heart pounding in his head as the blood drained to his feet.
The old woman came up to his shoulders in height. Hunched over, he was able to see ants traveling through her knotted white hair, evenly dispersed with twigs and leaves. Dirt stained her pale, wrinkled skin. It appeared that she was still in the same rags he had remembered hanging on her boney frame.
Her large brown eyes met his and she slowly raised an inquiring dark eyebrow.
The corners of Harry’s vision were slowly beginning to darken, but he struggled to stay conscious.
“My friend… will she be … all right?”
Sparkles appeared around everything he saw. If he didn’t sit now it wouldn’t be much longer before he passed out.
The woman gave a large, gummy grin.
“Death has already received its call. If more love, less will fall. Only true feelings come from within, if they don’t show, success will be dim.”
He didn’t have time for another riddle, not in this state.
“Damn you woman,” Harry muttered as he felt his universe close in on him.
The throbbing of his head intensified as Harry squinted in the bright light. This irritated him. Harry shielded his eyes with his arm, wishing for darkness to return.
Minute by minute, he became more aware of his surroundings. Harry felt the grass heavily laden with dew beneath him and the cold air enveloped around him.
Harry’s confusion transformed into realization; he had passed out and hit his head.
“Bloody hell.” Harry cursed as he lightly ran his fingers over the knot on his forehead. He must have fallen head first into the grass. The mangled frame of his glasses lay cock-eyed on his face.
Reaching for his wand, which was still luckily wedged in his back pocket, Harry fixed his glasses and attempted to open his swollen eyes in the bright, shimmery light.
It was very dark outside, with the exception of the iridescent image swooping around him. Harry sat up against the oak tree and looked around to see if he was alone.
He could barely make out the shape of an otter. Hermione, he thought. He felt his blood begin to course through his veins, thawing out his stiff limbs.
“Go ahead.” He spoke in a whisper.
The patronus nodded its small head.
“Harry, please alert the minister and the rest of the auror team. Lucius Malfoy has Draco and me trapped in the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts. I don’t know about the guards or security here. Please help.”
Upon completion of the message, the otter dissolved into the air and left Harry sitting in darkness.
Thankfully Hogwarts had been evacuated. Harry had just been at the school twenty-four hours earlier ensuring the safe passage of all of the students. Memories laden with sorrow and guilt began to skulk through his mind and his lungs grew taut. Harry shuddered. Ginny had been so angry at him. Correction. Probably still was very angry at him. He loved Ginny. Hermione was only his friend, yet she had been in trouble. No, she was still currently in trouble.
Was he ultimately choosing Hermione wanting to save her? Harry became enraged at this intruding and unwelcomed thought. No, not necessarily. She was his best mate and he would do anything for her. Would he die for her? He thought so.
Harry rose to his feet slowly. He would alert the minister and aurors and then ensure Hermione’s safety.
Firmly gripping the wand in his right hand, he called out “Expecto Patronus!”
A blue spark snaked out of his wand and lit up the space around him like a flame. Before he had time to give instructions, however, the charm had dissipated.
Harry felt the blood boiling in his face. How was anyone supposed to conjure happy thoughts to create a patronus in unhappy times - the only time when they were actually necessitated?
He growled.
Attempting to compose himself, Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes to clear his mind of everything. Only allowing positive thoughts to come to him, a beautiful red head shimmered into focus. Keeping his eyes closed, Harry felt the corners of his lips rise and he lifted his wand. As he began to utter the phrase, the recollection blurred and was replaced by Ginny and her reddened, tear-stained face glaring at him.
Harry threw his wand to the ground and kicked the tree. Allowing the pain to encompass him, he sunk to his feet and awaited tears. None came.
Why couldn’t peace and happiness find him? Didn’t he deserve it? Harry rubbed his swollen eyes.
There was no time to wallow, he thought fiercely. That would only hinder the necessary actions that he must take.
The cold breeze had picked up in the park and goose pimples prickled up his arms and legs. Harry wrapped his arms around his knees. Before Harry had gone unconscious, the bag lady had mentioned something about love and true feelings. Had she been referring to him?
He didn’t need to love Hermione to create a patronus to save her, did he? What were his true feelings for her?
Harry furrowed his brow. The moon now shone brightly through a small clearing in the tree branches above him.
Either he was able to create a patronus to alert the ministry and go to Hermione, or he would alert the minister and aurors in person, develop a plan and arrive as a group. Both were plausible options, but ultimately it decided upon what he could pull from within – what he truly felt.
***
Hermione felt detached from her current surroundings. If someone would have told her that in about a week’s time, she would have lived through an explosion, been saved by a potential enemy yet recaptured again - only to be left to rot in a tower at her old school with her potential enemy by her supposed boyfriend, she would have laughed. Or she would have turned that person in for lunacy - but certainly not believed him.
Her face was puffy but she had stopped crying. There was no more sadness, only anger. Anger at Ron.
She knew that he was different after training, something had been missing. But training had begun shortly after all of the devastation of the Great War, and she had attributed the missing piece to the death of his brother and nothing more. Everyone had changed after the war. She was stronger, harder, and perhaps even slightly less emotional. She knew that Ron had been jealous of Harry, but not to the point that he would change sides, from good to evil. Perhaps he was just confused. Whatever he was, it wasn’t her concern now. She knew her feelings for him were still there, but they were frozen by the intense anger and hatred she was feeling. She didn’t forgive easily.
If she wanted to get out of here, she was going to have to think. After she was free, she would have all the time in the world to sulk if she still wanted to. It just wouldn’t do her any good now.
The moon was lower in the sky, yet the first signs of light had not graced itself upon the horizon. With her feet dangling over the side of the platform, she ran her hand through her hair and braided it to the side. She was very sore and bruised, but still alive.
“Trabaugeo.” She whispered tugging on her right earring.
Caressing the familiar wood of her beloved wand, she would heal her external wounds, taking away the physical pain that she felt.
Hermione rose her wand to her face.
“Epis...”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Hermione had been interrupted by her momentarily forgotten company.
Swinging her legs back onto the platform, she scooted herself to lean against one of the nearby wooden support beams.
Hermione didn’t know what she, herself, looked like, but Draco appeared worse for wear. The dark bruises that had laced his sun burned skin were even darker. The remnants of his white shirt were hanging on him in thick shreds. If she would have guessed where he had been, she would have ventured to say that he must have gotten stuck on a deserted island with his only companionship being a wild tiger with sharp claws.
He was looking at her from behind his white blonde bangs, face pulled slightly to portray a feeling she could not read.
“And why not, Draco? Would it make you happy if I suffered? Remind you of the old days?”
Hermione watched him scowl at her. She returned the look immediately.
“No. I have enough suffering to keep me content for one day at least.” He spoke in a cold voice, letting the words slip from his tongue as he gestured to himself.
“But if you would like to get out of here alive, that means keeping a hold of that precious wand of yours. If they see you healed, they are going to ask questions. Or maybe not. Maybe they will just kill us on the spot. Either way, if they think you are armed, things will get worse very quickly.”
Hermione was impressed with his ability to reason. She was also slightly disappointed that she hadn’t thought of the idea first.
She evaluated her own arms and legs for the first time and gasped. Draco hadn’t been alone with the bodily damage. Cuts and bruises formed intricate patterns on every inch of skin visible to the naked eye.
“I feel like I have been through a meat grinder,” she said sadly, feeling a wave of self consciousness rise from within. Her face flushed. Why was she worried about what Draco thought of her?
Draco tossed his head to the side, clearing the bangs from his face. He closed his eyes and began to speak softly.
“I don’t know what they did to you before you got here. But you arrived in the astronomy tower in a burlap sack.” His voice cracked ever so slightly and he stopped.
Hermione eyed Draco closely, surprised with the emotion he was displaying. She felt a wave of empathy flood over her, but attempted to still it as she was not certain for the reason he was there with her.
“Well a suitcase might have been a better traveling option. But I will take what I can get. At least I am here alive.” Hermione watched the corners of Draco’s mouth rise slowly but fall moments later as other thoughts clouded his grey eyes.
Hermione thought that now would be better time than any to get to the bottom of this situation. If she was going to survive her current predicament, she better be able to wrap her mind around the reason she was there.
Raising her eyebrow slightly at her companion, she folded her legs in front of her, winced, and took a deep breath. Completing her attempt at formality, she crossed her arms in front of her and cleared her throat.
She had gotten Draco’s attention. He turned his head towards her and stretched out his feet.
“Yes?”
“Well your foot, Draco. How did you fix it?”
He sighed.
“With my wand I had at the time. I had returned to St. Mungo’s after making sure you stayed put.”
Hermione frowned. “Traditional spells take quite a long time to grow back a foot.” She made sure her words were clarified with an air of superiority.
“Yes, well I wasn’t planning on leaving my foot back at your place. But I thought you could always keep it as a souvenir for later after how you had been eyeing me in front of the fire.” Draco grinned through the shadows as the moon had moved behind some clouds.
Hermione felt her neck begin to redden. Thank goodness they sat under the cover of dark. His words left her searching for a quick, hurtful remark, but she was unsuccessful.
Draco continued and his grin turned into a grimace.
“Not having a foot put a rather large kink in my plans. You are right, it does take several hours to grow back a foot. It is painful and nubs are not fun to walk on.”
Hermione tried to imagine a reason for Draco wanting her to remain at her house while he looked for hostages at St. Mungo’s. Her breath caught in her throat as a theory flashed to the forefront of her mind. Draco appeared to read her like an open book and squinted his eyes to watch her closer.
She would tell him what she thought. She had a wand, and it was apparent she would have the upper hand if a fight would ensue.
Hermione attempted to move to a standing position but was in a severe amount of pain. Rethinking her choice, she repositioned herself on the floor of the astronomy tower. Draco watched her cautiously.
Hermione’s heart began to thump in her chest, but she had to know the truth.
“I by no means want to underestimate your cunning ability to manipulate and deceive. We all know it runs in your blood.”
She heard the blonde haired man take a sharp breath. Good, he was listening.
“So, you broke your father out of Azkaban with the help of Ron, the prison guard, and went to St. Mungo’s to prepare for the attack. Knowing I was already a patient at the hospital, you brought me from St. Mungos to my house – and then held me hostage there so we could end up in a similar situation as we currently are.”
Draco’s face fell flat, emotionless. He watched her coldly and said nothing.
“Unfortunately for you, you were exhausted and were unable to apparate fully and left your foot at my place. You were, however, able to help your dad round up a few others – to accomplish God knows what - and waited for them to bring me here to you. You let me contact Harry, so your father’s men could ambush him and the other aurors downstairs, and I am here so you can torture me. Something you have wanted to do since we were little. Got at least some of it right?”
Draco remained silent, too silent and chills ran up and down Hermione’s spine. She gripped her wand tightly in her hand and waited.
Finally, Draco reached to the support ropes of the tower and hoisted himself up. His silver eyes met Hermione’s and he looked her up and down. He forced a smile.
“I always knew you were a smart girl…”
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