Harry Potter and the Isle of Mists
Disclaimer: I can only hope to attain the creative brilliance of J. K Rowling.
AN: Please review. This is my first Harry Potter fanfic, so be kind.
AN2: This story is AU after OOTP.
To Nrogara42090: I just sort of assumed that Harry and Hermione could apparate, if they were with Dumbledore. When I read it again, after your comment, I realized it wasn't very clear at all, but that's what I was thinking when I wrote it. Sorry about the confusion, and thanks for the very kind review!
Thanks to all who reviewed….it is so very much appreciated!
Chapter Six: Poor Little Rich Ferret
Harry didn't mention his idea of reading Draco's mind any more that week. However, that didn't mean that he had forgotten. Hermione would have known that whether she could read his mind or not. But they were finding it difficult to extract themselves from the Weasleys' company, and they both had the added distraction of Snape's upcoming Occlumency lesson.
He also hadn't mentioned their almost-kiss in the corridor outside Dumbledore's office. But that didn't mean that he wasn't thinking about that either. He had used his slight edge in Occlumency to try and bar some of his thoughts from her. But the emotion behind the thoughts was a little harder to squelch. Hermione would suddenly feel her cheeks flush and her heart rate accelerate, and look up to feel the glancing blow of his gaze, as he swiftly returned his attention to whatever had been previously occupying it.
After one such incident, when the four Gryffindors were amiably occupying the common room, each involved in his or her own venture, Hermione turned a page with such force that it nearly tore.
Will you stop doing that? Her exasperated voice rang in his mind. He was, she noted, careful to keep his eyes on his Firebolt, which he was polishing carefully.
Stop what? He asked innocently, but there was nervousness, embarrassment, and … something else… behind his query.
Honestly, Harry, she huffed, you know very well what! Following his example, she picked up her quill and looked down at her half-filled roll of parchment.
I - I can't help it, he stammered slightly. You look…pretty…sitting there…by the firelight. His words were tentative and unsure, and Hermione felt his embarrassment through her bones as if it were a low-pitched vibration in the room. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, as if she were going to smile, and she said simply,
That's nice of you, Harry. Something thrummed dangerously at the edge of her consciousness. Her throat felt suddenly dry, and her stomach was fluttery. She chanced a glance at him, although Ron and Ginny, immersed in a game of Wizard's Chess, - that Ginny was losing handily - had not noticed any aspect of their interchange.
I didn't say it to be nice. I said it because it's true. His gaze had darkened, his pupils dilated until they had drowned out the green. The image of the two of them, locked together in a passionate embrace, flashed in her mind briefly. She suddenly felt as if much of the oxygen in the room had fled.
She stood abruptly, and said, apropos of nothing, "I'll just be in the library." With a flash of brown curls and lavender wool, she was gone through the portrait hole.
Ginny and Ron threw Harry a curious look, and Ginny might have said something, but Ron moved his bishop, and said, "Checkmate." Ginny began protesting that he had cheated, and Harry sat there, mute, wondering how long he had to wait before he could gracefully extricate himself, and find Hermione.
Hermione, he called out, gently, please don't run from me…from us.
He felt her anxiety, her self-doubt, her hopeful anticipation that she was trying unsuccessfully to keep from him.
Her-mi-o-ne, he was cajoling now. Don't forget that I can say that I truly know how you feel. I'm scared too. I know how much we've got stacked against us. I know that friendships are at risk. I know that lives are at risk. But in spite of everything, I want this. I want you. I love you.
He waited, with baited breath, to see if she would respond. He lowered the barriers that he had clumsily attempted to raise with Occlumency, so that she could know everything that he was feeling.
There was a long silence.
I'm in the corridor, outside the portrait hole, she finally admitted softly and a little reluctantly. Harry stood up, and tried to nonchalantly propel himself, not a very graceful combination, from the common room.
He saw her instantly…she had not gone far. She was slouching, with her back against the wall, and he saw the glistening path that a tear had taken down her cheek. He brushed at it with his thumb, and the lightning was back. They both shuddered slightly, as if an electric shock had run through them.
"Why does it keep doing that?" Harry murmured.
"If we can hear each other's thoughts and feel each other's emotions, then maybe physical sensations are amplified as well," Hermione said in her "lecturing" voice. They both paused, embarrassed, considering the implications of what she had said.
"Did you mean it? What you said?" Hermione asked, after a beat.
"What about what you didn't say?" Harry countered, feeling childish.
"I…" she trailed off, and a flush crept up her cheeks. "I…" She lifted her hand, to brush her finger tips along his cheek and through the dark strands of his hair. Gryffindor courage, he heard her think to herself. "I think I was born to love you, Harry," she finally managed. "Somehow, I think I've always loved you." She flashed a glance at him through her eyelashes. Harry felt his knees turn to water.
Hermione, you are about to get kissed. He cupped the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair, and thumb caressing her jawline. The kiss was brief, just a brushing of lips, and he pulled back to question her briefly with his eyes. He must have found what he sought, because after an instant, his lips were on hers again.
This kiss was long, slow, and languorous. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck to keep from falling. Sparks were showering down on her, she felt; she was hot and cold at the same time. She wanted to laugh at the completeness of it, and cry at the beauty of it. She wanted to…
"Bloody hell!" Someone blurted from just behind them.
Harry and Hermione jarred apart, eyes wide. As almost an afterthought, Harry reached up and wiped his mouth with the back of one hand.
Draco Malfoy stood in the corridor, a scornful smile playing across his lips, and a calculating look in his eyes. Harry knew he was trying to decide how to best play this to his advantage.
"I guess what I said about homework favors hit a little too close to home, eh, Potter? Or did it just give you ideas?" he smirked. Hermione felt Harry's ire begin bubbling beneath the surface.
"You shouldn't jump to conclusions about what you couldn't possibly understand, Malfoy!" Hermione replied in a ringing tone.
"Of course, a Slytherin snake like me could never grasp the meaning of true love!" Draco's voice dripped with sarcasm. "However, I do know the value of a good shag, and while I normally wouldn't sully myself with a mu-" He didn't get the offensive word - or the rest of the insult - out of his mouth, before Harry pushed himself away from the wall and assumed a more confrontational posture.
Harry…. He heard Hermione's cautionary tone in his head. Draco arched his eyebrows at Harry's sudden movement, smirking that he had elicited a reaction from his rival. Harry tried to force himself to relax.
"You should be careful about who you insult in my presence, Malfoy," Harry said, in a quiet voice that sounded more dangerous than if he'd yelled.
"Or what, Potter?" Draco said, rolling his eyes and sounding bored. "Are you going to grab your scar and have a fit? Sic me with a nightmare? Or just cry about your dead parents?"
Harry had an instantaneous desire to deck the Slytherin, but he felt Hermione's presence in his mind like a soothing balm. He calmed down.
"I wouldn't give you the satisfaction, Malfoy," Harry said emphatically, as he reached for Hermione's hand and turned to leave.
"Don't forget, Potter," Malfoy's voice echoed loudly in the corridor behind them. "My father has … connections. They might be interested in …things you're interested in." There was an unmistakable insinuation in his snide tone. He watched with pleasure as Harry's spine stiffened, and his stride visibly faltered.
Hermione, d'you think he meant…? Harry's anxiety was apparent.
I think he's a pathetic little ferret, Hermione was scathing.
He's a dangerous little ferret, Harry added seriously. I'm going to find out what he's up to. Let's go to the library.
ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
"Harry, I don't know if this is a good idea. You heard what Dumbledore sa -" Hermione tried to say warningly, but Harry cut her off.
"He said it would make me tired. I've been tired before. I want to know what's going on with Draco," Harry dismissed her worries, with an airy wave of one hand. "This could be important."
Hermione looked doubtful. "Something tells me you just want one up on Malfoy." Harry gave her a dirty look, as if he were insulted that she would think that of him.
But then she felt, Might be nice, drift through her mind lazily, and was sure that it was unintentional. She couldn't suppress a smirk. Harry looked at her with annoyance.
Thank Merlin, that Occlumency lesson's today, he said vehemently, glaring at her.
"Okay," he said, a moment later, obviously trying to decide how best to begin. He looked at her, and she stared back.
"What?" she finally asked, impatiently.
"Come here," he said, as impatient as she. Hermione's glance darted between his chair and her chair, and her brow furrowed. He rolled his eyes at her.
I mean, come here. With your - your mind. Hermione felt stupid.
Right. She shrugged sheepishly, and closed her eyes, concentrating on Harry.
I guess…since this - this ability started with me, that I'll have to initiate this, and you'll have to follow me.
Okay, she replied simply. Harry glanced at her, and then followed her example by closing his eyes.
There was a kind of stretching sensation, and everything became misty and shrouded. It wasn't exactly an out-of-body experience, as he was still dimly aware of himself seated in one of the library's hard wooden chairs. However, he was distinctly cognizant of the sensation of leaving his own memories and thoughts behind, his mind traveling through nothingness.
Draco… There was a flash of pain in Harry's temple that slowly began to flare.
A first-year cried, dangling upside down, as Draco, Goyle, and Crabbe laughed.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron walked into the Great Hall laughing and talking. Seething rage licked around the edges of the scene.
Professor Snape stood at the front of the Potions classroom, praising Mr. Malfoy for a particularly well-done Bafflement potion.
Draco and Pansy were hiding behind a statue of Winifred the Whimsical on their way to the Astronomy tower, as Hermione strolled by on patrol. He snickered when she did not see them.
There was fear, laced with curiosity, as Hagrid brought out his newest lesson from a gigantic metal crate.
Harry dimly realized he was seeing some of Draco's memories, apparently at random. How am I ever going to find what I'm looking for?
He tried to speak to Hermione, but found that he couldn't. Lucius… he tried thinking…Lucius and Narcissa…Professor Snape…
Suddenly he was standing in a large room, opulently decorated. It was instantly evident that every furnishing and accessory in the room was of the highest quality, from the plush carpeting to the brocade sofa to the crystal chandelier.
Narcissa Malfoy, a doting expression on her pretty face, was levitating clothing into an open trunk. Harry looked around, and realized that Hermione was standing at his elbow. He felt instinctive panic, but remembered that this was Draco's memory, and so they would not be able to interact with anybody in any way.
"Where were you?" he hissed at Hermione.
"Sshh…listen," was all she would say.
"Draco, darling," Narcissa called out. Harry made a disgusted face at her saccharin tone. She was talking to Malfoy like he was five.
There was a bang, and Harry jumped. The white door slammed backwards into the wall, leaving a visible dent. Draco entered the room sullenly.
"Yes, Mother," his tone belying the respectfulness of the words.
"Have you got your broom? And your owl?" He nodded twice. "I expect Severus will take you into Diagon Alley at some point for your schoolbooks."
"I s'pose," Draco mumbled, sounding bored. He stared over his mother's shoulder, out a window. Narcissa paused in her packing.
"Draco, precious, what's wrong?" she simpered. Harry felt like throwing up.
"I've still got weeks of holiday left. I don't know why I can't go with you and Father. I don't want to go back to that bloody school yet."
"Draco, dear, we've been over this already," Narcissa said patiently. "Your father has…business … in Europe. I'm afraid it would be far too dangerous for you to go. Severus has been called back to Hogwart's early, and has kindly offered to watch over you there."
"Good God, I'm not some stupid child that needs to be `watched over'," Draco knocked her hand, which had rested lightly on his shoulder, away angrily. Narcissa fluttered her hands a little, but did not reprimand him.
"Draco." The aristocratic voice lanced through the room, instantly attracting attention, even though it was not loud. Harry and Hermione looked to see Lucius Malfoy standing in the doorway, impeccably dressed, tapping the head of his ornate cane into one gloved palm.
"Father," Draco acknowledged, and Harry noted the greater amount of respect in his tone.
"Details," Lucius said, apropos of nothing. Harry thought that he and Draco must have similar befuddled expressions on their faces. "Once again, Draco, you get too caught up in your own petty emotions to notice details." He glanced at his wife, almost as an afterthought. "Narcissa, your incessant coddling of the boy is going to ruin him."
"Ha!" Harry said, in an aside to Hermione, "Like that hasn't already ha-" Hermione pinched his arm for him to hush.
"Leave us," Lucius said imperiously. Narcissa waved her wand, and the trunk lid closed with a snap. She left the room without another word. Harry could see Hermione bristling at this treatment of any woman, even Narcissa Malfoy, as a subject.
"Draco, how are you ever going to be a part of the Dark Lord's inner circle, if you do not pay attention!" Lucius asked, banging his cane down on the fine mahogany desk. He obviously considered this a good time for some sort of object lesson. "Now, what important piece of information did your mother give away?" Draco looked uncertain, possibly the first time Harry had ever seen that particular expression on his face. There was a moment of silence.
"Father, I already know why you're going to Europe. He's sending you to…" His words were cut off as Lucius whipped his cane around, shoving the handle under his son's chin.
"Your fool of a mother said, `Severus has been called back to Hogwart's early'." He leaned down, until he was inches from Draco's face. "Next. Time. Pay. Attention." He bit off each word as he spoke. He straightened up, replacing his cane by his side, and when he spoke again, it was in a normal tone of voice.
"The Dark Lord is interested. He wants to know why." Harry felt Hermione stiffen beside him at the mention of Voldemort.
"Why doesn't he just ask Professor Snape?" Draco wondered. Lucius whirled around, one hand lifted, as if to backhand his son.
"You have the insolence to question the Dark Lord?" He indicated his upraised hand. "Consider this a warning against further foolishness. The Dark Lord is vigilant and ever-watchful. Constant tests of fealty are to be expected…even desired. If you intend to take the Dark Mark when you come of age, you will be expected to prove your loyalty. You should be honored that the Dark Lord is already noticing you." Lucius allowed a fond, if smug, look to cross his face. He seemed to debate about how much else to say.
"The Dark Mark was exploded over that Mudblood Granger's house a few days ago. Severus was called back to Hogwart's soon thereafter. The Dark Lord wants to know why," Lucius repeated. "You are going to find out for him."
Draco looked into his father's eyes, his face resolute.
"Yes, Father."
The memory began to swirl and fade. Harry and Hermione once more found themselves seated in the otherwise empty library. They slumped forward against the table. Hermione was breathing heavily, but let out a shriek as she looked at Harry.
"What?" Harry managed, suddenly so fatigued that he could barely form the words. The pain in his head was terrific. He was suddenly aware of a sticky wetness on his face and sleeve.
"You're bleeding."
TBC
Will be getting into the meat of the story soon…you know, the reason the story is titled what it is…
Please review!
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