Hermione & The Secret Of The Auryn

Or

MoonChild & Atreyu’s Untold Story

 

“We’re all part of a Never Ending Story.”

 

Prologue

 

  Going from one shop to the next, Hermione Granger was wondering what was all the effervescence about. Since she fell across a mysterious bracelet some years ago, she’s been wishing that one day someone would help her figure out what it was keeping secret within.

 

  For it was quite an unusual bracelet: two snake-headed halves, each featuring one ruby eye, one golden, the other silver. The most surprising has been that it had fallen between Muggles’ hands, before she it returned to the Wizardry world through her, since she bought it on the spot. She never told anybody about it, she knew than Mr Weasley, Ron’s father, would have required to her to bring it to his office.

 

  She was distracted in her thoughts by reading the leathery covers of two books exposed in the bookstore she was passing by:

 

The Never Ending Story

&

The Extraordinary Journeys Of Bastian Balthazar Bux

 

“A Muggle,” she said under her breath, “just like Mom and Dad told me he was.”

 

  Having read the first book mentioned, it’s the latest that sparked her curiosity: since he travelled in the wizardry world, then he could certainly help her with her bracelet! Only, something held her back: Bastian was also known to have tried to take over the ruling of the wizardry world during the Child-like Empress’s disappearance, and that he almost killed his best friend, the renown Hunter called Atreyu. Nevertheless, she seldom bought a copy of his book, for Mr. Bux was a Muggle all the Wizards were fond of, despite those two questionable acts. Even Mr. Malfoy, Draco’s father, insisted to get his son reading his book, although it’s known of him to be contemptuous toward no pureblooded Wizards and beings.

 

“Then,” thought Hermione, “there’s a way to get Mr. Malefoy turning the table on Voldemort, one day. And perhaps to see Draco changing his own behavior, too…”

“You got your copy, too?” Popped out justly Draco’s head behind her.

“No, not yet,” she blushed in embarrassment, “I was about to.”

“Well, you better hurry,” he responded firmly, “before all copies sold out, for it’s in our program this year!”

“Thanks for your concern, Draco,” she answered politely.

“For once that I can say something very nice,” he sighed, “and meaning it! Have a nice day, Miss Granger!”

“You too, Mr. Malfoy Junior!” She waved back at him.

 

“What’s the matter with him?” Dropped Ron as he came to meet her.

“You better say,” Hermione cuts short, “What goodness is happening to him, Ron.”

“You mean, this book?” Pointed out Ron to the book of Mr. Bux across the bookstore’s window. “This is our luck, I guess!”

“Let’s not be so severe with him,” corrected Harry, carrying his own copy under one arm, “before to judge, Ron. Draco certainly has his own defaults, but they’re not all his own doing. Even if we hate each other cordially, he deserves the respect as our adversary, and a new chance. He has to…”

“You got my point,” beamed Hermione.

 

Chapter 1. The Missing Chapter

 

  Like anybody else, Hermione flipped through her own copy in the quietness of her room at Hogwarts. Believing she must have caught some pages between her fingers, she flipped again. Same thing. Did those pages had been torn out? No, there was clearly no sign of such deed. How come? She went to check the index, and saw that she hadn’t mistaken: normally, there would have been forty chapters, but the twentieth was virtually inexistent, like erased. Like if Mr. Bux wanted to hide something, something which has obviously displeased him. But what was it?

 

  It’s at this moment than the two snake-headed bracelet glowed from a bright red light, as if it had sensed too that something was feeling awkward with Mr. Bux’s book. Intrigued, Hermione picked it up, and held it in front of the empty space where the missing chapter should have been. Immediately, a hissing sound came from the jewel, and the ruby-like pupils of the snakes were ablaze. If she hadn’t been born a Witch, Hermione would have had tossed it away. The bracelet wanted to tell her what she has always wished to know about it, and knew that she was willing to hear it out.

 

“I’m the Child-like Empress’s magical symbol,” whispered the two snakes in a chorus, “for all magical creatures alike, I’m more popular under the name of AURYN. I’ve come a long way before to make it back in my homeworld, thanks to you, Hermione Granger. The reasons I’ve wandered so long in the Muggle world and remained silent for what must have been an eternity, is because that my creator let go of me in entrusting I exactly what Mr. Bux had wished to vanish from our world…”

“What is it?” Asked Hermione. “Why did she have to do that?”

“Even if Mr. Bux and Atreyu are friends,” replied the snakes, “the second had done a thing disapproved by the first: he was in love with my creator, and my creator was returning his love to him. Therefore, aware that Mr. Bux would ask such fact to disappear, as I told you, the Child-like Empress entrusted it to me. It happened, and since then, nobody else knows this story bur I. And ever since, the Child-like Empress and Atreyu can’t get in touch anymore…”

“Just tell me,” frowned Hermione, “for if I can be of rescue, I’ll gladly do it!”

“All right, then,” agreed the snakes.

 

Chapter 2. Atreyu, Gatherer of Stories

 

  Hermione took a few new parchment scrolls out of her wooden chest, as well as her inkpot and her eagle quill, and began to retranscript word for words what the Auryn was dictating to her.

 

  Some years had passed since Mr. Bux’s last visit in our world. And it had taken all those years to Atreyu to finish and record all the stories his friend had created. That’s what earned him his newfound nickname, Atreyu, Gatherer of Stories. The Hunter had become a Storyteller. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be asked for by such or suck folk to come and sit around a bonfire to tell a tale or two, as he was now with children of his own kind, the People of the Great Plains.

 

  As he was about to speak about the once dreadful and now much missed Xayide, Queen of Emptiness, a message-carrier riding a white horse showed up, and Atreyu went quiet. He had recognized the color of the Child-like Empress. It had to be something very important to interrupt him in his new responsibility. He exchanged glances with Fuchur, the Dragon of Fortune, his steadfast friend and supporter, who advised him silently to listen to what the carrier had to say.

 

“Are you Atreyu?” Questioned the carrier.

“Yes,” nodded Atreyu, “it’s me.”

“Well, in this case,” answered the visitor, “you’re requested to show up at the Ivory Tower as soon as you can, Atreyu.”

“Is there any trouble concerning the Child-like Empress?” Asked Atreyu almost abruptly.

“Precisely,” confirmed the carrier, “and that’s why you must be on your way, now.”

 

  At the answer, the colors had left temporally Atreyu’s face; he had found nothing else to say. Feeling the children’s eager eyes on him, he rose up from his place, and jumped of Fuchur’s back.

 

“I’m sorry, Children,” he waved to them as Fuchur took off, “it’ll be for another time!”

“If there’s another time,” muttered Fuchur with unease, “for at the expression of this carrier, Atreyu, I can smell trouble ahead of you…”

“How can I be in trouble, since you’re with me?” Pondered Atreyu.

“You got this one right,” smiled the white doggy-faced dragon, “with luck, it’ll be only for a trifle.”

 

  If there was one time Fuchur would have checked his crystal balls again, it would have been this time. For as soon as he and Atreyu had entered the Child-like Empress’s throne’s room, after so many days of trip, they felt disapprobation, rejection and scorn filled thoughts coming from all the other creatures in presence. As a skilled Hunter, Atreyu had opted to stay on his guard, while Fuchur had decided to remain as neutral as possible, if he could. But one thing was for sure; he wouldn’t let down his master and friend.

 

“What’s going on?” Finally let hear Atreyu. “What are you reproaching to us?”

“Nothing to your dragon,” said the Great Chamberlain, “but to you, Atreyu. Perhaps you should tell us.”

“I won’t say anything save to the Child-like Empress,” retorted Atreyu, “and to she alone.”

“The Child-like Empress isn’t here anymore,” replied the Great Chamberlain matter-of-factly, “she’s left the Ivory Tower for days, and nobody can tell where she is, now.”

“You’re lying!” Spat Atreyu. “Allow me to see her, please!”

“For her own safety, she must see you no more.” Argued the Great Chamberlain. “Haven’t you read the new wizardry world’s rules written by your friend Bastian?” At this remark, Atreyu’s features turned pale. “Ah, yes. According to paragraph 1, section3, the Child-like Empress and one of her creation can’t unite their lives, and than she and the creature mentioned should renounce to each other’s love, so the Child-like Empress should live a more promising union with a Muggle, like more than one magical being as done. However, if the creature in love persists in his desire to be with the Child-like Empress, it’ll be banished from his own kind, and sent to exile in Diagon Alley. Your fate is sealed, Atreyu.”

“Wait a minute,” said Atreyu in raising an eyebrow, “how can you be so quick to forget that’s through me that Bastian made it in our world at the first place? This is to be my reward to help to the reconstruction of our universe? Because I love the Child-like Empress?”

“We’re sorry, Atreyu,” uttered with a heartfelt compassion the Great Chamberlain, “but the law is the law, and I must carry it out…”

“In Bastian’s name or the Child-like Empress’s?” Said Atreyu not without a point of irony.

“In the name of the latest,” sighed thoughtfully the Great Chamberlain, “I therein declare you, Atreyu, Gatherer of Stories, banished from your kind and exiled from this moment forth at Diagon Alley.”

“So be it,” bowed Atreyu, before to leave the room, Fuchur following him in his tracks, under the eyes of the audience, amazed by his boldness and courage.

 

  So was banished and sent into exile Atreyu, Gatherer of Stories, without being permitted to see one more time the sole being he loved more than anything else in our world. When this had occurred, something had broken in our world. All creatures knew nothing would be the same anymore…

 

  Hermione dropped a second her quill to pick up a paper tissue to blow her nose and wipe away the tears that had began to slide down her cheeks.

 

“I’m sorry,” she apologized to the snakes, “it’s just that it was so emotionally draining…”

“That’s fine,” said the snakes, “we felt the very same when the Child-like Empress said it to us.”

“What happened to the Child-like Empress after that?” Wondered Hermione, taking back her quill where she had left off.

“I was justly coming to the subject,” replied the jewel.

 

Chapter 3. MoonChild’s Flight

 

  As soon as Atreyu left the Ivory Tower, the Child-like Empress that I’ll call from now on by her name, MoonChild, was freed to gaze to the horizon through the opened petals of her magnolia-like chamber. Just in time to see Fuchur, carrying her beloved Atreyu away from her. At this moment did she understood than she was no longer the Empress of her our universe, but its prisoner. For the first time, her laws had been contested just as her heart’s choice alike. If it had been by one of us, magical beings, the matter would have been solved fast enough. But it had been a Muggle’s doing, and not anyone: Bastian, Atreyu’s friend.

 

  Centuries ago, a law had been written by a Muggle, aware of how the cupidity and the envy could rot one Muggle’s attentions toward a magical being. It had again been proven right by Harry Potter’s own relatives, but to the extreme, considering the degree of ignorance of those people matching their level of intolerance. Unfortunately, the book containing this law has vanished, as well as all the copies worldwide. So far, the sole Wizard known to possess still one copy is the Wizard Lucius Malfoy, father of Draco Malfoy.

 

“Father?” Gasped Draco, as he finished to read this paragraph that has appeared on the missing pages meant to contain the twentieth chapter of his own copy. “You knew? And you never told me anything?”

 

  He rubbed his chin for a while, thoughtful. Then, Harry Potter’s relatives didn’t know any better how to treat their nephew that he was doing himself, Draco.

 

“And I never knew and never suspected it either.” He sighed. “Makes sense, taking into consideration how graceful I’m with him, no wonder I never permitted such exchange to take place…” Before to curse himself aloud: “Draco, you’re a first-class idiot!”

 

  Picking up his copy, he ran to his dormitory’s door, grabbing his wand in a hurry. There was no way he was going to pursue his reading in the Slytherin Tower. Not in those conditions. There was one place he only guessed he would, at the Gryffindor Tower, with Harry and Ron, if of course they were willing to let him in.

 

  He drummed at the door urgently. After an instant of hesitation, Harry went to open to him.

 

“Draco?” He said so surprised that Draco made an effort to not laugh at his face. “What are you doing here? Looking forward playing on us one of those dirty pranks of yours?”

“Good Evening,” answered Draco, sensing clearly electricity into the air ready to burst if he was saying one wrong word, “no, Harry, I’m not here for that. It’s just…Well…” He opened his book, pointing to the paragraph whom got him showing up at this time of the night at Harry and Ron’s room. “This.”

“You’re truly reading it, too?” Asked Ron, bewildered. “As Hermione said you would be?”

“Hum, hum,” nodded affirmatively Draco, “for once, Miss Granger got this one right on me.”

“All right,” cuts short Harry, “what do you want from us?”

“I wanted to ask you if you would mind if I was reading with you,” replied Draco, suddenly shied, “especially after reading what you saw. I know we’re not in good terms, and that’s my mistake, nobody else’s. I just want…”

“We got it,” frowned Harry, by gesturing to Draco that he could walk in, “come in.”

“Thanks,” said Draco with relief, as he sat on the floor, “you know, I’d like to know who’s retranscripting this story, for I find Hogwarts more quieter than normal, it’s too quiet…”

“Maybe it’s quiet to give us enough time to read the retranscription till the end,” suggested Ron.

“Weasley,” beamed Draco, “you’re a genius when you’ve it!”

“Come on,” said Harry, as he and Ron took place around Draco, “let’s get our reading going!”

“Yes,” confirmed Draco, pointing to the new paragraph imprinting on the page, “for it continues here.”

 

  Meanwhile, Hermione was effectively writing down the following paragraph Draco had pointed out to Harry and Ron.

 

  MoonChild’s heart refused to rest, to let it go. There was no way she was going to be held prisoner against her will, under the pretext than a law had suddenly gone missing from the bookshelves. She remembered that Atreyu had left his horse, Artax, in the Ivory Tower’s stables, in case she would need it. The time had come now for her to rely on this proof of love.

 

  She waited for the night, when she knew than most guards were sleeping up and paying less attention. Draped in a white cloak matching her dress, she went to get the horse as white as her clothing.

 

“Good Evening, Artax,” she patted the horse’s nostrils affectionately, “I came to get you.”

“Good Evening, Child-like Empress,” answered Artax, “I’ve been waiting for so long for you to come ride me one day, but why doing it by night? Why not to wait for the sun to rise?”

“For I’m running away, Artax,” replied Moonchild in a sorrowful voice, “I’m running away to be with Atreyu.”

“Then, why are you so sad?” Wondered the horse.

“I’m sad because this Tower that used to be my home was turning into a jail,” responded MoonChild in a sigh, “and I’m sad for it was turning so at the moment Atreyu was banished.”

“I understand, then,” nodded the horse, “let’s be in our way, before they become aware of we’re gone.”

 

  Artax’s intuition was never proven so right, for the next morning, the Ivory Tower’s Court was mad with awe, when the Child-like Empress’s disappearance, told to Atreyu the day before, turned out to be true, this time!

 

Chapter 4. The Bargain

 

  MoonChild and Artax reached Diagon Alley after many weeks of travel. When the white horse got into the alley, carrying this white clothed maiden, nobody at first realized it was the Child-like Empress. Perhaps it had been better this way, in the end.

 

  Moonchild spotted Fuchur’s long silhouette resting at the doorstep of a shop in full renovation. Somebody had obviously bought the place a short while ago, foe the sign reading “For Sale” was lying on the pavement beside a wooden ladder. The young girl got off her mount, and attached it to a hook nailed in the stoned wall close of the shop’s door. Which she pushed eagerly, and caught sight of Atreyu busily storing on the shelves books whom seemed to come from bottomless boxes. That’s when he turned around to pick another pack of the rectangular items that he remarked her, dropping loudly the books on the floor in the process!

 

“MoonChild?” He strangled himself, daring not believing it.

“Hello, Atreyu,” she responded, gathering the books still lying at Atreyu’s feet, before to handle them to him, “so it’s you whom bought this place?”

“Yes.” He replied, almost with embarrassment. He was wishing he could say something else of what he added next, but he knew that he couldn’t. “What could I do otherwise, since I’m exiled down here? I’ve gathered plenty of stories during the last years, what better thing to do than to open a bookshop related to my new duty, MoonChild? I’m a storyteller, maybe it’s time for me to make all those accounts accessible to everybody’s disposal, don’t you think so?”

“I agree,” sighed Moonchild, “yet I can’t escape sensing frustration in your answer to me, Atreyu...”

“Wouldn’t you feel the same if you knew than it’s thanks to a Muggle you couldn’t share your life with the one you love?” He argued, as his voice broke.

“Of course, I do feel likewise, Atreyu,” answered MoonChild, her eyes clear as spring water filling with tears, “the problem is than the law that can contradict the one Bastian has written is unavailable nowhere, save an example in Mr. Malfoy’s private library!”

“Then,” frowned Atreyu, “why don’t we go get it?”

“The other difficulty is,” replied MoonChild quickly, “we can’t do it by ourselves either…”

“It’s swell!” Swore Atreyu, freaking out Fuchur and Artax that were listening to the exchange from the doorstep.

“But two Wizards can,” she smiled gleefully, “it must be a Maiden from Gryffindor of Muggle’s ascendant, and a Lad from Slytherin of noble origin.”

 

“Could be anybody,” muttered Ron at the line.

“Hun-ho,” nodded negatively Draco, “I don’t think so.”

“And I don’t think so either,” said Harry.

 

  It’s at this moment than a tall man, dressed up in sparkling medieval clothing, with blond hair with the icy stare of his eyes emphasized by strokes of light lavender veil, walked in. Both MoonChild and Atreyu acknowledged him at once in a chorus:

 

“The Goblin King, Guardian of the Labyrinth!”

“Hello, Folks,” he greeted them, “I see than you’re in a deep trouble, and would like to get out of it as soon as possible!”

“That’s right.” Admitted Atreyu with a wary look. “What do you want from us?”

“You should rather ask me what can I do for you,” smirked the Goblin King.

“What do you have to propose?” Demanded MoonChild. “We’re listening.”

“Bastian will be looking forward to get hold of you, Child-like Empress, isn’t it?” Grinned the visitor. “I’ve a bargain in store for you.”

 

“This is bad,” quoted Draco, “I don’t like the way this sounds.”

“What make you say that?” Asked Ron with incredulity.

“You’ve no idea,” replied Draco with a deep sigh.

 

“All right, this is the bargain,” went on the Goblin King, “Child-like Empress, I’ll give you the appearance of a white owl. This way, you’ll be taken care of by an underage Wizard that will not even suspect it’s you. Atreyu, on the other hand, you’ll stay put as you are in your bookshop, until what’s prophesising the Child-like Empress happens. You must make-up your mind than it might take long before that, and consent to say nothing to nobody! Deal?”

“Deal,” shook his hand Atreyu with distraught. But what other choice did they have, then? None.

 

  So the deal was concluded, MoonChild became a white owl to be sold on Diagon Alley to an underage Wizard the following year, whilst Atreyu went back to his books and stories. It’s been seven years now than this happened, seven years that I, the Auryn, had been entrusted those words to keep.

 

Chapter 5. Dumbledore’s Counsel

 

“If this chapter wasn’t meant to be in my book at the first place,” was fussing Bastian up as Harry, Ron and Draco were making their way to Dumbledore’s office, “it shouldn’t have appeared either in all the copies I sold and the ones I still have to sell, last night!”

“Well,” answered Dumbledore, “the sole explanation is than someone at the school must have the Auryn, Mr. Bux. Therefore, the transcriptor of this story. And look, it isn’t finished, for the author hasn’t signed yet.”

 

  It’s at this moment that Hermione shown up, wearing the Auryn at her wrist, the parchments she used to write down so far the Child-like Empress and Atreyu’s story rolled up tight with a red ribbon.

 

“So,” called out Draco, “it’s you Hermione, the transcriptor of the story we were all reading last night?”

“What do you mean?” Asked Hermione, startled.

“Haven’t you heard?” Reparted Ron. “Mr. Bux is fulminating over the fact than the chapter you’ve written has publicized in every single copy everywhere, Hermione.”

“Looks like I chose the right time to bring to Dumbledore what I’ve done,” said Hermione flatly, “for it’s the school’s copy, and I don’t want anybody else to mess up with it until the prophecy is done.”

“A fine idea,” agreed Harry.

“What are you doing with them, Draco?” Demanded the young girl to the Slytherin student, which had retreated a few steps from them.

“This you should know when Dumbledore will have let us in his office,” replied Draco cautiously.

 

  He had just ended up his sentence, that Bastian walked out of Dumbledore’s office in cursing he’ll attack the school for refusing to hand over its copy to him, and that the school wasn’t through with him either!

 

“Doesn’t this sound familiar?” Grinned Ron to Draco.

“No comment,” retorted Draco, blushing in mortification.

 

  Dumbledore gestured to them all to get in. Hermione without delay handled to him the precious parchment scrolls she was pressing against her heart. Dumbledore beamed, and Minerva McConagall, his most loyal friend, got into the office at her turn.

 

“Minerva,” advised her Dumbledore, “make sure that those scrolls get into the school’s safe at Gringotts, and that nobody else try to retrieve them before the end of this story.”

“Very well, Dumbledore,” winked Minerva to Hermione before to walk away, “it’ll be done.”

 

  Reassured by the idea than the scrolls were out of Bastian’s reach, all four students spoke up at the same time. They wanted answers to their questions. What were the point and the message Hermione’s very own retranscription wanted to make? Dumbledore had to motion to them to tone it down, for he had remarked Draco’s impatient glance to him. Impatience to know more of what he had grabbed so far from Hermione’s retranscription.

 

“Yes,” he came to meet Draco, “Draco Malfoy?”

“How strong is the connection between our world and the Muggle one?” Said Draco in one stroke.

“Good question,” smiled Dumbledore, handling to him some books that evidently were Muggles’ ones, “in purpose to understand this connection, Draco, you must get familiar with its history.”

“I see.” He frowned. “I know it’s a tricky question, but had ever been in the Muggle world somebody like…” He briefly trailed off, before to take a deep breath. “me, seeking to purify his kind?”

“Your answers are in the books I gave to you, Draco,” replied Dumbledore, “I think the best way to know is to read them. In our way.”

 

  Draco complied at once, by giving a tap of his wand on the books.

 

  The first one was called Drancy’s Letters. It contained letters written by the members of a community whom were casted out because of their origins, before to be sent, they didn’t know where. The second book was called Orphan of the Shoah. The story of a girl whom escaped her parents’ fate through them. The third was basically alike in content, but more moving by its title, I want to see Mama again…. Children, whom survived, thanks to Resistants, let it be in the Churches or schools. But the image of their vanished Mama was always haunting their mind. The fourth book had a title that was saying it all: The Finale Solution.

 

  After a moment of hesitation, Draco gave it a tap of his wand. He saw in front of his eyes a train entering full speed ahead in a camp, before to stop abruptly. Next, he saw men, women, elders and children separated from each other. If the row on the left was getting into the camp, the one on the right was led up to a bricked house. A few seconds later, Draco could smell the odor of burnt human flesh; it was like he couldn’t breath anymore. He gagged, but his break was short-lived, for next, he literally saw walking skeletons, working to the death, before to be burn at their turn. Dizzy, Draco gave a new tap of his wand, before to collapse on a chair, as the book slammed shut and landed on Dumbledore’s desk.

 

“This…this,” he gasped, “it’s industrial Death.”

“Yes.” Nodded Dumbledore. “See how far the idea of one’s unique race can go?”

“Just tell me something,” breathed painfully Draco, “the man behind all that…was he like the kind he wanted to purify?”

“Certainly not,” responded Harry, “He was small, had black hair and wore a moustache.”

“Forgive my honesty, Draco,” intervened Hermione, “but have you been born at those times, you’d have given this man satisfaction, because you’re matching exactly his vision of perfection. He wouldn’t have hesitate to brainwash you in this purpose.”

“And the bad news don’t stop here,” added Harry, daring not for the first time to look at Draco straight into the eyes, “for Voldemort is in the very same case as this man: he’s not a pureblooded Wizard, Draco, just like me. He’s always rejected his Muggle’s inheritance, and he’s for that reason never admitted it.”

 

  It was too much for Draco. He rose up from his chair, went to the window, and threw up. When he turned around, the others could see that he was livid, and his eyes were greyer than usual. As he was walking to the door to leave, he let hear with a weakened voice:

 

“I think I need to lie down. Can any of you walk me back to my room? For I don’t want the others to ask too many questions regarding my state…”

“I can,” proposed herself Hermione.

“All right,” approved Dumbledore, “see you later, Draco.”

 

Chapter 6. In the Snakes’ Pit

 

  As Hermione was gone, Draco stated clearly to the others Slytherin students that he wanted to be alone, and to not be disturbed under any pretext. He seriously needed to see things as they were, and not as he was taught to believe they were.

 

  He knew that his father had told him the truth about Harry’s parents: his father was a pureblooded Wizard, while his mother was a Muggle-Born Witch. What he couldn’t get was why Voldemort killed them both, and didn’t let live Harry’s father, since he was a pureblooded Wizard. Then, the truth strokes him. Voldemort, carving for power, didn’t stop at nothing, and to his horror, so was his father teaching to him, until he got access to those books from the Muggle world.

 

  His thinking over brought him to the conclusion than so was Mr. Bux, save that his aim was of another nature. To see and take possession of the Child-like Empress. Then, Muggles and Wizards had indeed more in common than he thought after his reading of Hermione’s retranscription.

 

  Under his seemly-subdued child to his father image, Draco was far from being stupid. He especially disliked the fact to have been induced into error, because he had given way to his own weaknesses. And that’s exactly what had occurred so far with his father: this one, aware of his cowardice and to be a crying baby, manipulated and lied to him, just as he, Draco, was manipulating and lying to his comrades in the very same manner. He was nothing more than repeating the pattern with them that he got with his father. The question was: why?

 

  And why did he never mentioned to nor allowed him to look at his voluminous collection of laws written by Muggles travellers in their universe? Certainly because there was a law he didn’t want him to know of, the very law which had vanished worldwide, the sole law able to save the Child-like Empress and Atreyu!

 

But now, he knew. And he knew what he had chosen to do, and what his position in the present matter was: whoever the Maiden of Gryffindor would be, he’d be the Slytherin Lad to team up with her. Enough with the immaturity and to be childish, it was time to show what Draco Malfoy was made of!

 

  An echo of loud voices coming from the Slytherin common room made him snap from his thoughts. Alarmed, Draco rose up and dashed to it. The reason of such commotion would be only a Gryffindor student entering it without warning, and yet without a teacher! The door flew open under his impulse, and everybody went quiet. It’s then he recognized Hermione.

 

  Her hair was adorned with a golden hairband, made of rubies. On the left side of it, was featured a griffin, made of eye of the tiger stones. From it were hanging strings beads made of gold, and at the very end of each strand, a smooth ruby ball and a griffin’s duvet feather were dangling.

 

“The Maiden of Gryffindor headdress!” He exclaimed. “Professor McConagall passed it on to you?”

“Yes,” nodded Hermione,” after to have walked you back here, she did.”

“I think I guess for which reason she had given it to you, Hermione,” he winked cheerfully.

“May I know what’s going on, here?” Snarled Millicent Bulstrode.

“A deed certainly not suiting a Slytherin girl like you,” smirked Draco.

 

  Millicent caught a crafted tray of porcelain on a piece of furniture, and pushed a scream. Draco removed his robes to shelter Hermione as both bent down their backs and fled, as the piece of earthenware shattered behind them.

 

Chapter 7. The Prophet Of Slytherin

 

  In their rush, they almost crashed into Dumbledore, who was coming the opposite way. The old man chuckled affectionately, before to motion if they didn’t have anything to tell him.

 

“No, I don’t have anything to say,” said Hermione, “at least not now.”

“Draco?” Quizzed the old Headmaster to the Slytherin student who was putting back his robes conscientiously.

“I, yes,” he answered, catching his breath, “after a serious moment thinking everything over, I do know what my duties are. Too many events in the past I’ve foreseen before they occurred had proven it was time for me to get involved, in a way or the other…”

“Like during the Tournament four years ago?” Quoted Hermione with a guilty voice.

“Hum, hum,” nodded Draco, feeling fire burning his cheeks.

“Interesting,” grinned Dumbledore, “Hermione, return to your dormitory. Draco, come with me.”

 

  Hermione and Draco exchanged troubled looks, before to depart their ways, Hermione back to the Gryffindor dormitory, and Draco back with Dumbledore in his office.

 

  The old Wizard handled to Draco a book called, When Prophets Come And Go, History Repeats Itself, by Drusilla Firestarter.  Draco had heard of Drusilla, whom was also known as the Witch of the Stars, for her robes were always twinkling like a shower of lights. She had been one of the finest students the Slytherin House ever got years ago, and ironically, the sole woman from it whom remained a Witch of Light once her studies have been over with.

 

  Dumbledore gestured to him to look at the letter M. Draco complied and read the following:

 

“The Malfoy family, although of his dubious reputation, is notorious to have birthed Prophets at least twice within two hundred years ago. Moreover, the medium abilities witnessed in this family skip a generation on two. For that reason, Lucius Malfoy doesn’t carry any medium abilities of some kind, but his son should, like his grandfather was.”

 

“So,” uttered Dumbledore thoughtfully, “just as I presumed, Draco, you are the one.”

“Still…” sighed Draco, “my father never comprehended or stood it, like if he was fearing me.”

“It’s obvious,” agreed Dumbledore, “because of those medium abilities of yours, you’re the stronger of the two.”

“Because I’ve never given up to the Dark Lord?” Said Draco.

“Partially,” smiled Dumbledore, “but there’s also the connexion with your namesake. Listen to me: centuries ago, a Wizard called Marduk, on the land of Mesopotamia, had to fight against two creatures. First, Tiamat, the snake-like Goddess of freshwater. He cut her body in halves. Her upper body became the earth, while her lower one became the sky. Second, he retrieved the Tablets of Destinies, stolen by the Zu-bird, or Griffin, to transmit them to humanity. Afterwards, Marduk became the protector God of the city of Babylon. And guess what’s Marduk’s symbol? A Dragon. The point I want to make is, you could be the one who could bring to a stop the thick blood that has been going on between the Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses for too long…”

“May you be more clear, please?” Asked Draco, wanting to be sure he had heard right.

“You’re the Prophet of Slytherin, Draco,” beamed Dumbledore, “you can claim rightfully as yours the Prophet of Slytherin Chamber, situated to the very top of the Slytherin Tower.”

“And what about Hermione?” Said quickly Draco.

“Well,” replied Dumbledore, “she’ll move to the Maiden of Gryffindor Chamber, located likewise in the Gryffindor Tower.”

 

  And within a matter of hours, both Draco and Hermione moved to their new respective places. Others students weren’t allowed to move with them, sole visits were authorized, and for important matters only. Draco didn’t mind being separated from Goyle and Crabbe. In fact, he was rather happy to be ridden of them, for as he said to them when he came picking up the rest of his stuff, that he was beyond nursing age long ago already!

 

  On the other hand, he went to check on Hermione to see if she was doing ok on her share. He was relieved to see than Harry and Ron had given her a hand with her moving.

 

“May we know what’s happening here?” Questioned Ron.

“All I can say is that it has to do with the Child-like Empress and Atreyu.” Responded Draco with a tired voice. “For the rest…”

“What?” Cut Harry in.

“I’ll have to go to the library put my nose in the Wizardry world’s Laws section.” Announced Draco. “This is promising very numerous studious nights!”

“All right, then,” approved Harry, as he and Ron took leave, “see you around.”

 

“You weren’t serious,” addressed Hermione to him, “didn’t you, when you said you were going to spend nights in the library for the search you’ve mentioned, Draco?”

“Yes, I was serious, Hermione,” answered Draco firmly.

“Why do you want to do that for?” Insisted Hermione.

“I know what and who I am, Hermione,” he said with a broad smile, which soon faded as he concluded: “but there are also personal reasons I don’t want to elaborate just right now…”

 

  He could have sworn to see her blush to the roots of her hair at this instant.

 

Chapter 8. The Dragon Bookworm

 

  The very next day following this exchange, Draco spent countless hours in the library, flipping and scanning any books susceptible to help him in his quest. He was there long after dark, while the other students were gone to bed long ago. It soon dawn into him that he was spending more hours there that he never did before. Not that Draco didn’t like to read, but rather than his readings have been so far selected by his parents, to avoid for him to read things not matching the spirit they were raising him in. Except for the fact that he’s now been fed with the books from the Muggle world Dumbledore shown him, and he couldn’t accept as true his parents’ idea of purity for the Wizardry world anymore. He just knew it wasn’t right.

 

  Two weeks after he had began his search; he missed to fall asleep during Professor Snape ‘s class. It was during an explanation about how to melt pearls into vinegar, as used to do the Queen Cleopatra in Ancient Egypt. It was all in the dosage, and Draco would have screwed it up, it wouldn’t have been to Severus Snape’s intervention.

 

“Malfoy,” he shook him by the shoulder, “Malfoy, stay awake and with us, please?”

“I’m sorry, Professor Snape,” he replied, rubbing his eyes like a child obviously ready to take a nap, “it’s just well…I’m barely having any sleep, lately.”

“Reduce your night time at the library, Malfoy,” answered Snape, “or else you’re going to make blow this classroom!”

 

  This last comment provoked a nervous laughter in the rows of students seating around. It was actually the very first time to hear Severus Snape saying something really funny!

 

“All right, all right,” he gestured to them to go quiet again, “we got a good laugh, now let’s get back to work! And remember, Malfoy, I said four pearls, not six!”

“This recipe should have pleased my mother,” whispered Draco to Harry and Ron, “she’s so obsessed with her appearance!”

 

  In spite this little incident, Draco went on with his task at the library. He wouldn’t get any rest until he got the answers he was looking for. And finally, after many sleepless nights, he found, at least partially, some of them.

 

  The first came from Mr. Bux himself, since as Draco read in the book of laws written by this one (any book of laws written by travelling Muggles was classified in the alphabetical order in Hogwarts’ library), the precedent law he was cancelling had been previously written by Karl Konrad Koreander, the most older Muggle traveller known in the Wizardry world. Draco checked again the shelves meant to contain all the laws edited so far, and effectively, it was well the letter K that was missing!

 

“BINGO!” He yelled. “I just knew it had to be something like that!”

 

  The second came from an ancient tablet, written in cuneiform, brought back from Babylon. To his astonishment, Draco read it as if he had written and spoken Assyrian all his life! The feud between Gryffindor and Slytherin was also partially explained there: since centuries, the eagle and the snake were fighting for space. The first one was eating the eggs of the latest, which earned him to be thrown over a cliff by this one. The grudge temporally ceased when Marduk defeated Tiamat and the Zu-bird respectively, as Dumbledore explained to him about fifteen days ago.

 

“So, that was it?” He gasped, noting on his parchment all the informations he had managed to gather. “Gryffindor and Slytherin are much more connected that I thought.”

 

“You’ve at last found what we both need to retrieve the right book of law from your father?” Appeared Hermione, out of nowhere.

“Hermione?” Strangled himself Draco. “You were here?”

“I just walked in a few seconds ago,” she answered, “for I was wondering if you would be requiring any help if you weren’t finding what you were searching for…”

“I found some of my answers,” nodded Draco, “but not all of them, Hermione.”

“You know what this means, do you?” She demanded, unsure.

“Yes,” said Draco sulkily, “for to ask for it is one thing, but to get it will be another.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Draco,” almost fussed up Hermione.

“You didn’t upset me, Hermione!” Replied abruptly Draco, as he rose up from his chair, making Hermione back up a few steps. “I’m upset toward myself because I know my father is going to put me down and won’t pay attention to me again!”

“Why did you never rebel against him?” Asked Hermione.

“Good question,” calmed down Draco, “thanks for asking it. The truth why I never rebelled against him is because I knew if I were, I would lose you! And if I had told him it was I who had provoked Buckbeak, it would have been the same! Because I know I never will be able to tell him that I’m love with a Mudblood, which is totally contrary to the education he is giving to me!”

“That’s why you were afraid to lose me that…” Trailed off Hermione, who couldn’t believe her ears.

“Yes,” blushed Draco, “and I’m not very proud of that. The other reason is when I understood the affection tying you to Weasley was growing stronger that day; it’s been the cruellest blow I never had to deal with, Hermione. You may say I’m punished enough, after all, Weasley certainly will know to make your happiness that I would. He deserves you, and I must erase myself…”

“Don’t speak like that, Draco,” said Hermione with concern, “you deserve your happiness like anybody else here. I know we could hardly stand each other, but now that I know the truth…”

“Wait, I’m not finished yet,” interrupted Draco, “and if things had turned out differently, there have been more than one time I wished I could help the three of you when there were troubles around.”

“I know,” smiled Hermione, “Harry and Ron repeated to me when they overheard you say it while we were in second-year. And now, you are. It’s not what’s count?”

“What’s the point if I can’t have you?” Draco took her face between his hands. “Why did it have to be you?”

“Look,” breathed Hermione, “Ron is somebody very caring and nice, but he’s quite clumsy sometimes, just like you’ve been to get my attention. I’m sorry I’ve slapped you back then. If I had known…”

“It’s not your fault, Hermione,” shook negatively the head Draco, “nor mine. Adults were seeing us like game pieces, that’s what happened.”

 

  As Hermione shyly attempted to turn her face away, he gave her a timid kiss on the lips. The sole eyewitness of this scene was Mrs Norris, whom considered inappropriate to report such event.

 

Chapter 9. A Terrible Confrontation

 

  Draco’s doubts were confirmed within a matter of days: his father refused categorically to pass him on the book of law from his private library he had requested, unless it was for a team project in class. Professor Snape shook negatively the head. He and Lucius Malfoy were close friends, and he certainly wouldn’t make up a lie about a ghostly team project about the laws ruling the Wizardry world. Even though he knew how important it was to get this sole surviving copy retrieved to help Atreyu and the Child-like Empress.

 

  Draco could estimate himself lucky to not have received a Howler in front of everybody during breakfast; just like did Ron about six years ago. But the problem was still there. The copy had to be retrieved, in a way or the other. Since the gentle, polite manner didn’t stick with his father, he will have to rely on the toughest one. He will have to steal the book, but he knew he couldn’t carry his plan out alone. He will have to team up with somebody familiar with nocturne escapes. He wouldn’t have mind to team with either Harry or Ron, it wouldn’t be for the fact they were somewhat distraught with him. They had their reasons, and he respected them. On the other hand, Hermione was willing to go with him, although he warned her if they were caught, his father would be merciless with her, and he didn’t have to spell it out to her.

 

  When she suggested which one of them would metamorphose to enter the manor, he responded, outrageous:

 

“What do you want me to do? To ask Professor MadEye to change me into a weasel again?”

 

  And it’s with this graceful sentence than the next night; they left Hogwarts for the Malfoy manor. True to his name, Draco changed himself into a shiny silvery Dragon, with large bat wings, two arched horns atop of the head, graceful arms and legs, with pearly scaled-skin. All Hermione had to do was to ride on his back.

 

  They were spotted on their way by two gargoyles, each guarding a different place in Hogwarts. There was Pluto, a human-like winged one, which usually always had his nose stuck in the mythology books of the library, and was very often seen seating on a stony stool, reading. And there was Prudence, a large bat winged cat with big fangs, perched atop Professor McGonagall’s window.

 

“Good Luck, kids!” They bided to them before to return to their office.

 

“May I ask you something, Draco?” Quizzed Hermione as the Malfoy manor got into view.

“Yes,” he replied posingly.

“Why do you want so badly help us?” She said in one stroke.

“Maybe…” answered Draco hesitantly, “Maybe because I wanted to see a different face, another way to see the world that I’ve been taught so far, Hermione. Although there are some cowardly Dragons, among them there are some wise…”

 

  Draco landed not too close of the manor’s gates, to not attract too much the attention.

 

  Hermione changed into an otter, and headed for the manor.

 

  A damaged moat’s doorway made her entrance seem like a piece of cake, but she was aware that she was in enemy’s territory, and she made her way into the spacious and luxurious rooms in barely looking at them. She had a mission, and she wouldn’t leave the place without the book. After many minutes of search, she at last made it into Mr. Malfoy’s private library. Without hesitation, she climbed the shelves, knocking merrily headpieces and statues over along the way to the prized volume. She had just taken it between her jaws, than Mr. Malfoy penetrated the room. Instantly, she jumped off the shelves, landing on a table were some potions bottles crashed on the floor as she arrived. Mr. Malfoy fumed, but the little otter dashed for the closest exit, the ramparts.

 

“You’re trapped!” Smiled coldly Mr. Malfoy, as he caught her by the tail. “Now, you’re going to be nice and give me back my property!”

 

  At the sight of this, Draco emerged from his hide, and, hooked to the top of the ramparts through his paws, smoked blue flames at his father’s face, whom shrank back, dropping the unfortunate otter, whom would have hit the ground if Draco didn’t carefully caught her with his paws before to fly away.

 

  He didn’t go far, for his father, infuriated, casted a spell that knocked him off balance, and he and Hermione crashed into the surrounding woods. He didn’t know who was that Dragon whom had come to the rescue of a worthless otter, but he had made sure he would regret to have not sworn loyalty to him, like the others. For all Dragons were subdued to the Malfoy family, and in exchange, they had to protect them. But this one obviously didn’t have a clue of it, and instead helped an otter to steal one of his books than to returning it back to him!

 

Chapter 10. Draco Meets Fuchur

 

  Pine trees had exploded under Draco’s mythical form, and as he slightly moved to get back on his back legs, the summit of one of the threes snapped in a loudly crack sound, before to hit him straight in the middle of the head. Draco pushed a powerful groan of anger, before to rub his reptilian face urgently to remove any pine’s needles from it. After a last shook of the head, did he noticed than Hermione had slipped down his paws.

 

“Hermione?” He called out. “Hermione!”

 

  Silence.

 

  Mad with anguish, he looked all the way around him feverishly, until he spotted a brown form lying motionless in a little stream. As he knelt down to shake it gently with one of his fingers, slowly the otter regained consciousness, and returned to her formal human form, and it could be seen she was still firmly holding in one of her hands the so much wanted book.

 

“Hey, wake up,” was whispering Draco into her ears, “wake up!”

 

  And Hermione did wake up, save to push a terrified scream of horror as she crossed his cold grey eyes, framed still in his scaled-skin.

 

“Ho-ho-ho!” Draco backed up a few steps as he returned to his former appearance at his turn. “It’s ok! It’s me!”

“Don’t you ever do that again,” said Hermione, warily.

“I didn’t mean to fright you,” Draco replied, confused, “but I got so scared I might have lost you, it didn’t occur to me I was still under the form of a Dragon…”

“Great!” Exclaimed herself Hermione. “And what do we do now?”

“If I were you, we shouldn’t dwell here too long, Hermione,” answered Draco knowingly, “for good chances are than my father will send the Dragons that swore to protect my family to chase after us first thing in the morning. And those Dragons are far less kinds than me!”

“Let’s go, then,” agreed Hermione, having sensed clearly that Draco had spoken the truth.

 

  And so, they went on their way, under the relative safety darkness was offering to them. The sun was rising beneath the green curtain, when suddenly Hermione moaned, before to kneel on the ground, checking her right ankle. Draco clearly saw her biting her lips to not cry, as a feeling of pain imprinted on her features. He knelt beside her, concerned.

 

“Looks like it’s broken, somehow.” He contested, after giving a quick inspection. “How did you do that?”

“I think I must have broke it when I fell earlier on as an otter, Draco,” she responded with a guilty voice, “ to the exception it didn’t hurt, then.”

“We’ll have to wait to be back at school to get Mrs. Pomfrey heal you,” said Draco thoughtfully, “for either of us had taken its wand on this expedition. I can’t afford seeing you suffer all the way back there. It’s simple: I’m going to carry you on my back.”

 

  As he said so, he grabbed Hermione’s hands in his, pulling her on his back. The Witch knotted her hands around his neck, and her legs around his waist.

 

“Ron never carried me on his back like that,” she quoted after a while.

“He’s rather considered you as his walking stick, didn’t he?” Wondered Draco.

“Yes, kind of,” admitted Hermione in a sigh, “not to mention he’d get into a jealous rage if somebody else was expressing interest in me. Like with the Get Well card from Professor Lockhart, for instance…”

“I can imagine,” said Draco, “for my father uses to be the same with my mother.”

“Really?” Mused Hermione.

“Yes,” nodded Draco, before to kiss her on the cheek, “excepted that I don’t see things the way Ron and my father do, especially regarding you.”

 

  To keep going without being seen, they had to walk under the thickest trees, for the sky, as Draco said it would, was dark with Dragons flying all over the place. When, out of the blue, a blinding golden light made them flew away. Astonished, Draco and Hermione saw a white unicorn, her mane of the three colors of gold: white, bronze and yellow, and her eyes were green.

 

“Don’t be afraid,” she said, “my name is Goldie. I’ve been sent by King Taran and Queen Eilonwy to help you. For I’ve a friend that can have you brought back at Hogwarts in no time.”

“Are you going to take us to him?” Quizzed Draco, testy.

“Yes,” nodded Goldie, “and I see that your comrade is wounded. Please, let me carry her on my back, Prophet of Slytherin.”

“You know who I’m?” Gasped Draco.

“Yes,” nodded Goldie again, “all animals are aware than the Prophet of Slytherin is fully awake, to help the Child-like Empress and Atreyu.”

“If Harry was hearing this…” Teased Draco as he helped Hermione to get on the unicorn’s back.

“Don’t even think about it,” grinned Hermione.

 

  Under Goldie’s guidance, they reached a clearing where a large white Dragon of Fortune was sleeping. Could this be…?

 

“Fuchur!” Called out Goldie. “I found them right on time!”

 

  Fuchur opened his large pupils, and both Draco and Hermione remarked they were as red as the purest rubies. An unmistakable smile curled on his lips as he saw them.

 

“At last,” he welcomed them, “the Maiden of Gryffindor and the Prophet of Slytherin are finally together! The prophecy can come true, now, for the Maiden is wearing the Auryn, that we all thought was lost!”

“Geez,” said Draco, “there are ears everywhere!”

“Yes,” beamed Fuchur, “for I’ve waited for so long to return to Diagon Alley to see my Master and friend again.”

“It’s true than seven years, it’s long!” Hermione elbowed Draco, who gazed to her in surprise.

“Forgive me for my outspokenness,” interrupted Goldie, “but we should be on our way, for the Dragons will come back soon. We’ll pursue this discussion at Hogwarts.”

 

  Fuchur took Draco and Hermione on his back, whilst he carried Goldie on his paws. And it’s in this equipage that they landed in Hogwarts’ backyard, the closest to Mrs. Pomfrey’s office. Immediately, Draco took back Hermione on his back, and raced to the medical wing, as Ron and Harry were coming to meet them:

 

“What happened?” Yelled Ron.

“Did it go all right?” Questioned Harry.

“A thing at the time!” Intervened Severus Snape, as he saw Hermione’s redden ankle. “Miss Granger evidently got a little incident, but I’m sure it’s not grievous. Malfoy, please proceed.”

“Malfoy!” Resounded Percy Weasley’s voice across the corridor. “No magic creatures allowed in the school’s backyard, until it is for a class! I’ll have to take off ten points from Slytherin for it, you know!”

 

  Draco’s reaction didn’t take long to come.

 

“The hell with you!” He snapped, squeezing Hermione’s body against his. “Hermione got hurt, and it’s a chance those two were there, awaiting for us! And it’s worth to get ten points taken off Slytherin any day!”

 

  Never wake up a Dragon who sleeps.

 

Chapter 11. Drums And Tales

 

  As soon as Mrs. Pomfrey was attending Hermione, Ron fussed up about how could she have trusted Draco, since he, according to Ron, let go of her hand as they were perched atop of a tree. Draco’s face flushed red at those comments. He was about to snarl, when Hermione made him come to her, and gestured to him to stay quiet, by sealing his lips with her finger, stating it wasn’t worth it to get into that kind of argument with Ron.

 

  Draco felt somehow awkward: Why was she so protective with him? Was she actually…? He scratched the back of his neck, wondering what to do next. The answer came from Harry.

 

“Draco,” he claimed, “Mrs. Pomfrey just announced to us than Hermione won’t be cured for a fortnight. Hagrid, the Gamekeeper, will host Fuchur and Goldie in his own backyard, until we know how the situation will be evolving next. In the meantime, why don’t we go together to Diagon Alley? Fuchur told Dumbledore than Atreyu’s bookstore’s name was Drums And Tales.”

“All right,” conceded Draco, “but what about Ron?”

“Considering the high spirits he’s currently in,” frowned Harry, “he’s better be left here, or else, he’ll try to get into a fight with you for Hermione’s sake again!”

“And it won’t be the first time!” Smirked Draco. “Seriously, I know what you mean, Harry.”

 

  Grabbing their broomsticks, they set off for Diagon Alley, under the recommendations of Professor McConagall, the retrieved copy of the missing book of laws from Mr. Malfoy slipped into one of her robes’ pockets. For, as she said herself, it was no time to make anything foolish. The less miscalculated error would be dramatic.

 

  Atreyu’s bookstore was the favourite hanging out place for any Wizards searching for a missing piece of their history. The selected books were going from the myths to the biographical accounts, without forgetting the Wisdom’s books written by elvish spirits.

 

  And speaking about elfish spirits, they were welcomed by a graceful elf, fully dressed up in the Native North American Indian style, from the shirt to the boots. His eyes first seemed to be ruby red, but at the daylight, they were pink pale in tone. His long jet-black hair was fleeing free on his shoulders, save for a strand that was braided and ended up by a long white feather. His pale features displayed an everlasting good mood, very cheerful and sweet, with a touch of mischief. The elf introduced himself. His name was Kitt, and he was running the place during Atreyu’s absences for lunch.

 

  After to have explained briefly the reason of their visit, Kitt directed them to the Genealogies/Biographies section of the shop, by telling them they will find the answer why some people were finding their account in the noticeable hatred they witnessed towards each other so far, all that with a killing smile.

 

  Draco picked up the book entitled The Malfoy, Rise And Fall Of A Family, at the same time as Harry took the one called The Potter, An Eternal Renewal. As they reached the end of their respective fathers’ studies, did they fell on the similar final paragraph:

 

“As years had gone by, Lucius Malfoy stood less and less James Potter’s ever greater powers. It seemed nothing to be impossible to him. Soon, what’s been at first a mere school’s competition between them both, turned into hatred. James hated Lucius for doubting about his truthfulness for he didn’t listen to him concerning Voldemort. And Lucius hated James for being a-know-it-all, and to have wedded a Muggle-Born Witch, Lily. However, when James and Lily were murdered, to the exception of their son, Harry, Lucius promised to raise his son to hate James’ son, and to be better than he was himself at school. Which will turn out to be unnecessary, for Draco will show a power of his own, the one of Prophecy. Bringing this pointless feud to an end, for both sons are as greater than their parents never were.”

 

“So,” gasped Draco, “that’s what’s been truly going on all along, as I suspected it?”

“It looks like it,” nodded Harry, “and it seems we’ve been as foolish as our fathers were on this point.”

“Sometimes,” said Kitt quietly, “parents, no matter their education or their spiritual abilities, don’t know any better. Often, it’s to the children to show them how things really should have been and be.”

“I think we got the point!” Raised an eyebrow Draco.

“Agreed,” nodded Harry.

“Hello, there,” appeared Atreyu, “Kitt told me everything! So, the Prophet of Slytherin got the book with the Maiden of Gryffindor, but you’ve yet to find a spell to restore this disappeared law MoonChild and I need so much?”

“That’s right,” confirmed Harry.

“And there’s not a spell the Maiden of Gryffindor can’t perform,” grinned Draco, “I’ve seen it too many times already.”

“Thank you all the same!” Smiled broadly Atreyu. “And thanks for taking care of my dear Fuchur!”

“Wait,” suggested Harry, “why don’t you come to the upcoming Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin? For my friend here,” he pointed to Draco, “is the Slytherin Seeker, while I’m the Gryffindor one.”

“This is just great!” Rejoiced Atreyu. “Just send Fuchur to get me, and you can count on it!”

 

  As promised, Hermione was cured, and was welcoming them as they made it back at school. And even before Ron got the time to realize what was going on, she jumped into Draco’s arms, under the eyes of a hilarious Harry as he witnessed the scene.

 

Chapter 12. Sweet Grief

 

  Shortly afterwards, due to their new status within the school revealed, both Draco and Hermione were taken the next day in a large room, which featured two small fitting rooms, only kept closed by wood and paper screens. They were welcomed by two elves. Draco recognized the first one as being Kitt, met the other day, but the second one, obviously female, was nothing familiar to him, until Kitt spoke:

 

“Hello Draco and Hermione,” he greeted them with pleasure, “this is my wife, Ouadjet.”

 

  Ouadjet was as much Egyptian than Kitt was North American. She was rich golden brown skinned and her eyes were of sparkling yellow amber. She was wearing a fine linen dress and glittery gold sandals. A large pectoral of lapi-lazuli was clasped around her neck. Her weighty black hair was bejewelled with a heavy gold headdress featuring a sculpted scorpion. Her traits clearly were showing how cheerful and caring she was, ready at anytime for a good laugh, and this everlasting good mood, echoing to the one of her husband.

 

“But…” said Hermione between hesitation and fascination to her, “but you’re an Egyptian.”

“Yes,” nodded Ouadjet as a smile curled on her lips, “that’s right, Hermione, I’m an Egyptian. And if I remember well, you were jealous in second year when some of the Weasleys travelled back in my birth country. And without knowing it, I was right under your nose!”

“Dear,” interrupted gently Kitt, “let’s get them ready, we’ll get more acquainted later on.”

 

  Ouadjet’s mere reply was a nod of approval.

 

  Kitt led Hermione to the first fitting room, and Ouadjet led Draco to the other. A few minutes later, they both emerged in their new clothing, under the approbation’s gaze of the two elves. Hermione’s Witch dress was trimmed with eagle’s feathers to the collar leaving her shoulders bare to her feet, truly giving her the appearance of a bird. Kitt braided one lock of her hair from the so far untouched right side of her head, before to tie it with a smooth ruby ball from which was dangling a griffin’s duvet feather. Meanwhile, Draco’s Wizard’s robes were seemingly reminiscences of the ones he used to wear as a student because of the emerald green tones, it wouldn’t be for the albinos python skin woven on the collar, the sleeves and the bottom of the robes. Ouadjet handled down to him a long golden stick, featuring a grey-blue snake wrapped around it, holding a midnight blue palantir in its open jaws, told to be named Capri. Before to festoon his hair with a golden circlet featuring a Slytherin motif, twin to the one of his ring.

 

“There you are!” Proclaimed Ouadjet, overjoyed.

“Yes,” nodded Kitt, “you’re now members of the school staff.”

 

  At first, it took a while to the other students to adjust respectively to Hermione and Draco’s new positions: in a way, they remained students during the studying hours, but in the other, during the feasts, they were then staff members. For either way, they didn’t have to return to their formal students’ attire. Everybody thought than at least Mr. Malfoy would come and congratulate his son, it’s been nothing of it. In due respect, Hermione judged better to not tell him she’s received a Congratulations card from her parents.

 

  Halloween came around, and along with it, its treats and tricks. For once, Draco truly didn’t feel like going to the Halloween’s feast. He had dawned into him that he was tired and fed up to sit over and over again with the same boring team: Crabbe, Goyle, and Bulstrode. And let’s not even mention Pansy Parkinson, which was refusing to get off his case! He cursed himself to have invited her for the ball in fourth year, which had been so stupid of him to do it! Because, back then, all he was looking for was to get Hermione’s attention, nothing else. And now that he was having it, he couldn’t get rid of her!

 

  He never felt his pain more powerfully as he was about to enter the Great Hall for the feast, when he noticed at once than both Hermione and Pansy weren’t there! His heartbeat fasten as he made his inquiries aloud:

 

“Where’s Hermione?”

“To the library, I guess!” Responded Harry eagerly.

“And Pansy Parkinson?”

“Likewise, what’s the problem?” Replied Goyle.

“Thanks a lot!” Fussed Draco as he dashed to the library.

 

  His intuition was proven right: Pansy was picking on Hermione, disturbing her in one of her numerous personal searches. He felt a surge of anger when he heard her calling Hermione Mudblood to be wasted, accusing Hermione of stealing Draco from her atop of it! For Draco, it did it, and he came out from his hole:

 

“Leave this Mudblood to me, Pansy,” he said, taking this how much too familiar sneering tone of his, “I’ll deal with her accordingly.”

“There!” Pansy mocked to a Hermione, which blood had crystallized as soon as she had heard Draco, before to walk away.

 

  As soon as Pansy was gone, Draco sighed of relief:

 

“That was close! I made it right on time!”

“You mean, you…” Articulated Hermione, flustered.

“I improvised,” smiled Draco, “on the spot. As usual.”

“Why are you so good to me?” Quizzed Hermione.

“Because you’re my girl,” answered Draco, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand.

“I always will be your girl,” blushed Hermione.

“Come on,” gestured Draco, “let’s go to the feast quick before they get the hint than something is going on!”

 

  The feast went on without noticeable accidents, although the teachers made the request than during Halloween’s night, all the couples in seventh year were expressly forbidden to join on this evening, for it could attract the Dark Spirits. Pansy bawled over it, while Draco did as if it was leaving him totally indifferent. Ron turned red as a cherry as he was eyeing Hermione at the exact moment, but she sighed with annoyance and left her seat. Draco left his a few minutes later, to not create a centre of attention on them, under the eyes of a dumbfounded Pansy.

 

  Draco caught up with Hermione as she had walked a few paces into the Forbidden Forest, carrying a blanket on one arm. She either, didn’t plan to go to bed as told.

 

“You shouldn’t be back there,” he quoted, fearing for Hagrid to take them by surprise at any minute.

“Then,” she replied, “why did you followed me?”

“Because I wanted to,” he argued, before to add quickly: “for I either I don’t want to go to bed as we’ve been told to.”

“No,” shook negatively the head Hermione, “you want something else.”

“Yes,” admitted Draco, “I want something else. YOU.”

 

Chapter 13. Joinings

 

  There once were plenty of accounts about the truth than Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger joined more than one time. Unfortunately, the majority of those reports were lost or destroyed by ignorant and malevolent spirits, whom were frankly bothered to face this undeniable fact. There are at least three surviving hearsays that survived the destruction, though. One reporting a mating on Halloween, another one on Christmas’ Eve, and a third one on Saint-Valentine’s Day evening.

 

  Hermione walked a few more steps, which Draco followed, until they were beneath the shadow of the grumpy Whomping Willow tree. When the tree recognized Draco’s stick, it stopped moving his angry leafy fists around, before to form a greenish rooftop above them. Beaming happily, Draco stuck his stick at the feet of the tree, the spot was just perfect!

 

“We shouldn’t be doing this…” shook negatively the head Hermione, “Atreyu and MoonChild can’t do it at the present time…It would be selfish of us…”

“I understand your concern, Dearest,” replied Draco thoughtfully, as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, “but it’s the fact than Atreyu and MoonChild can’t do it themselves that brought us together, Hermione…”

“That’s so ironical,” sighed Hermione.

“Yet, it’s a blessing,” said Draco in taking her face between his hands, “and that’s how we should take it.”

 

  Hermione couldn’t deny he had spoken the truth. Why did it have to take her so long to see this sweet, mild side of his personality? And why did it have to take him so long to see than she was ten times worth any pureblooded Witch?

 

  Draco unfolded and draped them into the blanket he had brought with him, as they tenderly undressed one another, under the ever-watching eyes of the Whomping Willow tree. As they collapsed on the ground, entwined, the very green eyes of Asclepius, the grey-blue snake on Draco’s golden stick, shone, setting in a midnight blue afire the palantir it was holding between its fangs. As the palantir glowed, it coated the Whomping Willow tree with what seemed to be ice, which in hardening turned out to be glass. You couldn’t tell anymore what was gleaming the most, the palantir or the tree.

 

“You’re going to be soiled…” whispered Hermione with a begging voice to her mate, “I’m not a…”

“Hush!” Motioned Draco to her, like you do to comfort a child. “Soiled for soiled, I’ve been it at the moment I fell in love with you! And tonight, I’ve chosen to be it willingly, Hermione! I’ll be the first Malfoy to have mated with a Muggle-Born Witch, and I don’t care about what people will say, mainly my father, mark me!”

 

  He never hugged her so tightly than on this night.

 

  A thunderstorm broke up, with flashes of lightning tearing down the sky, added to a heavy rain that fell. Sometimes, some raindrops managed to get through the glassy rooftop and were falling on their bodies before to slide down along them. Indifferent to them, Draco and Hermione pursued their embrace till the morning.

 

  The sun surprised them, Draco holding Hermione close to him, as they were both showing their backs to its radiant face. You could feel there was only bliss breathing from them.

 

  Here ended the testimony on the Halloween’s mating occurrence.

 

Chapter 14. Lights Of God

 

  Crawling beneath the now fragile and drumming willow’s brandishes, Goldie came to wake them up as the sun’s beams pierced through their cloudy cover to attain the earth.

 

“Hey, wake up,” she said in a low voice, as she was shaking Draco’s head by moderate pushes of her muzzle, “wake up!”

 

  At the moment Draco opened the eyes, followed shortly by Hermione, a sun’s beam temporally blinded them, stating clearly than the sun would soon rise high above in the sky. They had to be on their way quickly before to be discovered, therein explaining Goldie’s intervention. As they dressed back up in their clothes, the erstwhile lovers remarked the sun’s rays cutting the clouds here and there.

 

“Lights of God!” Breathed Goldie. “It’s been centuries since I’ve seen some of those!”

“Lights of God?” Inquired in a chorus Draco and Hermione.

“Perhaps one of you should go to the library make a search on the topic,” winked Goldie, as she walked away, back to Hagrid’s house, “then, you’ll understand what I meant.”

 

  As they made their way back at the school, it was hard to not notice than a twister had rocked the place from top to bottom: pumpkin juice had been splashed all over the furniture, cauldrons had been trashed in the Great Hall to form an iron pyramid, all the paintings had been turned around, the stairs were crankier than the usual, the girls’ toilets were flooded over with water, the list could go on and on, at the point than Kitt had to attached Peeves, the poltergeist, while Ouadjet had to calm down a frenetic Moaning Myrtle.

 

“What the hell happened here?” Swore Draco, daring not to exchange a look with Hermione.

“Good question!” Echoed Professor McConagall. “It turned out than Miss Bulstrode and her boyfriend disobeyed last night, that’s what happened! I’m currently concerting with Professor Snape about their detention.”

 

  Once the oldest Witch had gone, both Draco and Hermione exchanged a relieved glance. At least, they were not going to be worried to get a detention themselves anymore!

 

  The Divination class was about to start, when Draco, as he was about to enter, almost collided with Hermione. She had obviously waited for him, for either of them couldn’t get into any room without the other. Draco shown her the book he got out of the library: The Sky Speaks To Us, by Sephorah Rosenbeaum.

 

“Ladies first,” he said by taking his disdainful tone again, opening the door to her.

 

  As she entered the classroom, she couldn’t help to look at him above her shoulder. Draco’s reassuring reply was a wink of the eye, stating: “Don’t worry. Everything’s ok.”

 

  When Professor Trelawney brought up the topic if any students had seen the Lights of God this morning, both Draco and Hermione raised their hands to speak up.

 

“Oh, you did, both of you?” She said, fainting disbelief.

“Yes,” answered Hermione, as she pointed to the book resting on Draco’s desk, “but he got the book faster than I!”

“Draco Malfoy?” Asked Professor Trelawney.

“According to what I read here,” responded Draco, “if the next day a child was conceived on Halloween’s Eve, there are Lights of God on the morning and the evening, it’ll be born as the child of the Prophet of Slytherin.”

“Very true,” nodded Professor Trelawney, “for as I can recall, that’s what happened to your great-grandfather, Malfoy. What about you?”

“Nothing, I’m afraid,” tried to joke Draco, as he eyed Hermione.

 

  At the end of the class, he grabbed her by the arm. There was alarm in his voice:

 

“Did you ever feel there was such thing than could ever go so wrong?”

 

  At the sundown, Lights of God could be seen again. The doubt could no longer be permitted: both he and Hermione had conceived a child together, last night, their child. But what future would it have? Between a paternal family that was rejecting his maternal Muggle-Born parentage, and a maternal one frightened by the pureblooded paternal one, where would be its place?

 

  When he walked back Hermione to her Chamber this night, his concern had dimmed to be replaced by his heart speaking. This child would have a loving mother, it was certain. Would he make a good father?

 

“Thank you for walking me back, Draco,” she bowed to him.

“Will I be a good father, Hermione?” He hastily asked.

 

  Hermione blushed red to the roots of her hair.

 

“I’m sorry,” he blurred out, “it wasn’t probably the right question.”

“Of course, it was!” Replied Hermione, holding his face in her hands. “You’ll be a good father, Draco, I know that! You saved my life already twice!”

“I don’t think…” said Draco with a frail voice, “I just go for it…”

“And that’s precisely why you will make a good father!” Beamed Hermione.

 

  He kissed her fiercely many times, until she had to gently send him back in his own headquarters.

 

“Off you go, now,” she whispered as he stole her a last kiss, “off you go.”

 

Chapter 15. Why Do You Never Go Home For Christmas?

 

  Having been invited to spend the Christmas holidays at Hogwarts, Atreyu was received with very much thrill by the majority of the students. Even the Slytherin ones could barely hid their curiosity towards this most popular figure of their world, for Atreyu’s fame didn’t have to be made anymore. Though, Dumbledore advised them to not refer by any mean to the Child-like Empress in his presence, let it be by her name, as long as the white howl the Goblin King disguised her into wasn’t identified as being such. Harry didn’t need to be told twice: he kept Hedwig locked in the room he was sharing with Ron, to not make more sad the Gatherer of Stories than he already was.

 

  As usual, when Professor McConagall asked which students were signing up to stay over for the holidays, Draco signed up, along Harry, Ron and Hermione. When Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy asked him if he was minding if they were sticking to his surroundings, his reply left them petrified on the spot:

 

“Do as you please,” he said with sarcasm, “for all I care!”

 

  His concerns were obviously elsewhere, with Hermione’s upcoming pregnancy. And this year, the winter was colder than normal, not quite a suiting weather for a young girl who was expecting a baby. She would dress warmly when they would set up for the annual Christmas shopping. Taking things beforehand, he got made for her an ermine coat, trimmed with feathers, with matching shale. And this without notifying his parents about it. For otherwise, they would be in the mistaking idea it was for this stupidly mean Pansy, that his father had indeed in mind to wed him to her, which was of course for Draco out of question. He would have preferred to die than to be separated from Hermione any longer! And on the sunrise of Christmas shopping’s day, he got the coat delivered to her.

 

  Since they were members of the staff, they were free to go on their own to Leavenworth, a Christmas village ruled by Slavic Witches and Wizards. As soon as Hermione was ready, they went another way than the one the students were taking under the lead of Professor McConagall.

 

  When they arrived into a clearing, he helped her out some frozen mud.

 

“Watch out,” he grabbed her into his arms, “it’s slippery!”

 

  Hermione’s answer was a wave of laughter, for Draco lost his balance, and they both landed in the freezing blanket beneath them, making Draco burst into laughter at his turn. They got back up, still laughing like children at play. Until Draco crossed Hermione’s scrutinizing glare.

 

“It’s very warm, thank you,” she articulated, her cheeks pink like rose petals.

“You’re pregnant,” responded Draco, briefly putting his hand on her belly, “I want you to dress warmly.”

“May I ask you something?” She inquired.

“Go ahead,” he answered casually, “what is it?”

“Why do you never go home for Christmas?” Asked Hermione, straightforwardly.

 

  Staggered, Draco backed up a few steps, the cheeks on fire. He frowned, before to turn his face away. Hermione feared to had setting him off again, aware it never takes something long to do so. Instead, only a short silence, than he broke by lowering the head before to look at her in the eyes again:

 

“I could have returned you the question,” he sighed, as Hermione saw clearly his eyes shining with tears, “but your answer is far too obvious, to spend the holidays with Harry and Ron, so I’ll answer to you: the fact that I’m never going home is because there’s nobody to listen to me back there…”

“Not even your mother?” Said Hermione, thunderstruck.

“I love her, she’s protected me the best she could from my father’s attempts to corrupt me with his Dark Art by having me sent here instead of Drumstrang as he was planning at first,” Draco admitted, “but I do know if I go home for Christmas, he’ll repeat his attempts again…”

“That’s all?” Said Hermione, hearing her own voice shaking.

“No,” nodded negatively of the head Draco, “the other reason I’m not going home is right under my eyes! And this is thanks to my mother! For if my father had gotten me sent to Drumstrang, I never would have met nor fell in love with you, Hermione! That’s why I’m never going home either, it’s to be with you, at your side…”

“Oh…” Hermione gasped, taken aback, before to hug herself fiercely against his chest.

“And if I could go back in time,” he pursued, “I wish I could have danced with you at the Yule Christmas Ball!”

“Well,” said a cat, fully dressed up in Slavic regalia, holding a violin, as seven cats alike came out of nowhere, “maybe my fellows and I can make it up!”

“Who are you?” Asked Draco, more amused than upset by this intrusion.

“We’re Princess Freyja’s musical cats,” replied the feline, “and our job consist to get lovers dancing.”

“Then,” said Draco, “make us dance!”

 

  The cats complied with the request, and played a Middle-Ages tune meant to be a waltz. They were playing fast and good, and soon, Draco and Hermione couldn’t help laughing, enjoying the skill of those unforeseen musicians. And they danced, and they danced, as if they were alone in the world. Draco was amazed by Hermione’s ability to adjust her pace to his with accuracy, like if they were meant to dance together since centuries. When the cats brought the piece of music to an end, they applauded them, and thanked them to have led an ear to their hearts’ wishes.

 

  Once the cats were gone, Draco and Hermione couldn’t help exchanging hot kisses as a light snow began to fall. Draco loved the fruity taste of Hermione’s lips and the perfumed smell of her skin, so smooth as silk. Hermione loved the nutmeg taste of Draco’s lips and the warmth of his skin under her fingers.

 

  What they didn’t know was than two snoops, Crabbe and Goyle, saw the whole scene. They seized the opportunity to get their revenge on Draco to have tyrannized them for seven years, by breaking his reputation of untouchable Slytherin leader. They would proceed step by step. First by telling Pansy Parkinson what they had just witnessed. They would deal with Ron Weasley later.

 

“Malfoy?” Strangled herself Pansy. “Malfoy kissing Granger?”

“That’s what we saw, Pansy,” muttered Crabbe, “I swear!”

“How can he be kissing her?” Spat Pansy, infuriated. “She’s a mudblood, he can’t love her!”

“From what we saw,” emphasized Goyle, “it’s absolutely the contrary!”

“And when I think I was ready, I,” said Pansy, outraged, “to become his loving wife…He’s preferring she to me!”

“We understand your shock,” faked Goyle.

“He’s going to know his suffering to have toyed with me like that!” Swore Pansy. “I’ll throw my daggers to Granger one by one, I’m sure he’s not going to like that at all!”

 

  Crabbe and Goyle grinned pleasantly. They were done with the first step of their revenge.

 

  Hidden beneath his father’s silver cloak, Harry, who was on his way back from Leavenworth, had eavesdropped the whole thing. He was grateful for the relative safety his cloak was offering to him, for he knew what his next tasks would be: keep watch on Hermione, Draco and Crabbe and Goyle. There was no need to get Ron started already. There were too many important matters at the same time to deal with to jeopardize them through a miscalculated error, as pointed out by Professor McConagall.

 

“Hou là!” He said under his breath. “I’ve better keep looking above everybody else’s shoulder from now on! Looks like than my cue is nearing, after all!”

 

Chapter 16. A Father’s Intuition

 

  During the Christmas’ Eve feast, the students got the chance to see featured at their school the renowned falconer Yvan of Sainte-Hermine, who came with his beloved wife, which turned out to be the lovely Princess Freyja, owner of the musical cats Draco and Hermione met earlier on.

 

  Master Yvan recalled to them even though their owls were coming to them on their freewill, to keep in mind to not neglect the necessary falconry ‘s skills to call them back if for some reasons the birds were getting upset. Harry confessed then to had gotten Hedwig rushed off more than once, due to how hairy their situations were. Yvan advised to him to stay calm and patient, and to never show signs of being nervous, for the birds were very sensitive to that.

 

  As the evening moved on, Pansy decided to pick on Draco with what Crabbe and Goyle told her happened between he and Hermione. It wouldn’t have been for Harry’s intervention; Draco would have lost his temper for good:

 

“So,” smirked Pansy, “according to Crabbe and Goyle, they saw you kissing Granger, this afternoon…”

 

  Draco almost half strangled himself with the sip of eggnog he had in the throat, before to spit it back at her face. This scene was punctuated by a wave of applauses, cheers and laughter coming from the Gryffindor table. For it was actually the very first time they were witnessing Draco losing control over a situation. Unconsciously, Hermione buried her face in her hands; she didn’t want to watch this.

 

“I,” he said derisively, “kissing Granger? You must have lost it, Pansy!”

“In this case,” she barked to him, as she wiped her face out of the eggnog, “you’re the one who has lost it to kiss her!”

“You’ve gone mad or what?” He retorted, his grey eyes like thunderbolts.

“I don’t think so!” Pansy hissed. “You’re the one who’s gone mad to love a mudblood over a pureblooded Witch!”

“Don’t you dare say that!” Thundered Draco. “Did you hear me? Don’t you ever dare say that to me again!”

“Come on,” said Harry, as he patted Draco on the back, before to point out to Crabbe and Goyle, “don’t get yourself worked up because those two have been telling this young miss a make-up story of their own!”

“We didn’t make this up, Potter!” Tried to argue Goyle.

“Do you have any proof of it?” Replied Harry, defiantly.

“Er…No,” Paled Crabbe.

“Then,” grinned Harry to a flabbergasted Pansy, “the case is closed. Next time Parkinson, check if those two didn’t abuse of the champagne before to listen to them!”

 

  At bedtime, Draco dropped into Harry’s ear as he was walking Hermione back to her own apartments:

 

“For once, Harry,” he smiled gratefully, “I’ve never been so glad to see you!”

 

  Evening’s emotions having been too much for Draco, he could only guess it wouldn’t be such a good idea to go back at the Slytherin Tower tonight. And frankly, Hermione didn’t sense it either. She seldom agreed for him to stay overnight with her, for she didn’t want to sleep alone also. She pretexted to Ron it was for a consultation than he was coming in, or else she knew he would try to get confirmation of Crabbe and Goyle’s story.

 

  Draco was seeing the Maiden of Gryffindor Chamber for the first time: large tapestries were hung on the walls, and sculptures of griffins were supporting the columns. A semicircular stained glass featuring Lord Shiva riding Garuda symbolized the main window. A sofa was resting on a Persian carpet, where Crookshanks, Hermione’s cat, was sleeping. An Indian chandelier was hanging from the ceiling, producing a dim light. And not far from the stained glass window, were Hermione’s bed and trunk.

 

“WOW!” He marvelled at.

“Is the Prophet of Slytherin Chamber like this room?” She asked.

“Darker maybe in design,” acknowledged Draco, “but very much alike in the intimate atmosphere…”

 

  A silence.

 

“I want you to make love to me,” she said in a voice so low than only he heard it.

 

  Soon, all inhibition was gone, just like the clothes. They couldn’t tell how many kisses, hugs and caresses they exchanged, it seemed like if the night was refusing to die. The sole advantage to not get disturbed was than when you had gotten in the Chamber, it could only be opened from the inside upon Hermione’s freewill. The outside locks were refusing to conform to anybody else’s command, emphasizing on the double feeling to be secured. But as Draco was about to rest his head on Hermione’s chest, both recognized his father chatting with Professor Snape:

 

“As you can see,” was explaining Snape, “you can’t enter the Chamber unless you’re invited, or consulting. The doors won’t open.”

“Doesn’t something sound weird to you, Severus?” Answered Lucius Malfoy. “To me, it always had, from the start, for during seven years, my son never came home for Christmas.”

“What a pity…” Said Snape with irony. “No, I don’t see, Lucius.”

 

  Then, Mr. Malfoy spoke loudly enough, so even his son could hear him:

 

“Even if he was insulting this Mudblood girl, this Hermione, he always had a soft spot for her!”

“He knew!” Gasped Draco, shocked. “He always knew, no matter how I tried to hide it, it never escaped him!”

“Hush…” Hermione kissed him, before to hug him against her.

 

  The next morning, Hermione was resting against his chest, both their faces turned towards the sun. Despite this unforeseen stalking from Draco’s father share, they were blissfully asleep against each other, and you could sense you never would destroy that.

 

Chapter 17. Secret Wedding

 

  Draco rolled over to kiss Good Morning in Hermione’s swan neck. She briefly brushed his silver-blond hair in acknowledgment, before to rose up to get ready. Although it was Christmas’ Day, she wanted to have a first check-up made by Mrs. Pomfrey about her baby’s health. Even though she knew she had no longer reasons to fear the one who became her companion, the sceptre than she wasn’t a pureblooded Witch was still luring in her soul.

 

  Having guessed the thoughts that were spinning incessantly in her mind, Draco broke right into them:

 

“Where do you intend to go in such hurry?” He asked, as if he didn’t know already.

“I’d like for Mrs. Pomfrey to check-up on the baby’s health,” Hermione replied hastily.

“I’ve nothing against it,” Draco pondered, “ in fact, I’d like you to have another check-up done at the beginning of spring, before the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Quidditch match Harry and I invited Atreyu to. Then again, don’t do or say anything that would attract Mrs. Pomfrey’s attention. For if this ever gets to my father’s ears…”

“All right,” frowned Hermione, “I got it.”

“But before you go,” he grinned widely, “would you leave me so unsatisfied?”

 

  Hermione’s eyes opened as wide as his smile at this request, before to fall back on the bed with him, laughing, having understood what he meant.

 

  After breakfast, Hermione went to see Mrs. Pomfrey as she had planned to. Harry, who had noticed than her belly had begun slightly to get round, decided to trail her from afar, but without Ron, due to this one’s knack to lack of discretion when necessary. He never got proven so right, as soon as Mrs. Pomfrey quizzed Hermione out about her sudden change of state:

 

“This is no spell’s doing, Miss Granger,” she quoted, “it’s nature’s one. How did you make yourself good, this time?”

“Willingly,” answered Hermione, “nobody forced me.”

“At least it’s good.” Remarked Mrs. Pomfrey concernedly. “When last dated your period?”

“In October,” responded Hermione, “I stopped getting them afterwards.”

“October?” Said Harry under his breath, peeking through the keyhole of the door. “Hermione, it would mean that you conceived your child at Halloween? Then, the father can only be…No! It’s impossible!”

“All right, Miss Granger,” said Mrs. Pomfrey testily, “Who’s the father?”

“I’m sorry,” answered Hermione firmly, “but I won’t tell you. We both don’t want anybody to find out.”

Ah…” sighed Mrs. Pomfrey, “It makes sense.”

 

  Harry left his post as soon as he saw Hermione reaching for the door. Of all his life, he never ran so fast! At the point he almost knocked Professor Lupin out, as this one was drinking a cup of chocolate with Professor Snape, in his sprint.

 

“Hey! Harry!” Called out Professor Lupin. “What’s the matter?”

“You’re running as if the Devil was chasing you, Potter!” Emphasized Snape. “What is it?”

“Later!” Yelled back Harry.

 

  At this answer, Professor Lupin and Professor Snape smirked: them, too, as the rest of the school staff, had remarked the evolution of the relations between Gryffindor and Slytherin houses, since the Prophet of Slytherin and the Maiden of Gryffindor made themselves known.

 

  When Harry found Ron, the first thing this one said was:

 

“Where have you been? I’ve looked all over the place for you!”

“All my apologies,” replied Harry, as he caught his breath, “but I’ve tracked Hermione back to the infirmary, to see if she was doing ok…”

“Ah, I see…” Nodded Ron. “So, is she getting some weight as I’m presuming?”

 

  For the first time in his life, Harry surprised himself lying deliberately to his best friend:

 

“Yes…” He answered with a nervous smile. “Besides, Mrs. Pomfrey recommended to her to watch out what she was eating.”

“Perfect!” Announced Ron with some relief.

 

  This scene got Harry thinking:

 

“What else could have I told you? Than Hermione was probably pregnant, and that she was certainly expecting Draco’s child? You’d have killed me for telling you that!”

 

  Speaking of the Devil, there was Draco, a few paces away, having things straight with Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle once and for all:

 

“That I’ve kissed Granger or not is none of your concern! Especially you, Pansy. From now on, mind your own business!”

“Your business is my business,” snapped Pansy, refusing to give in.

“Certainly not,” cuts Draco short, “it never was, and never will be.”

“Does this mean we’re through?” Questioned Pansy, and you could see plainly in her eyes than she was seeing her whole world falling apart.

“Yes, we’re through,” stated undoubtedly Draco, as he walked away, “now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve more important matters to attend to.”

 

  And with that, Draco had cut the last boundaries he was having with his past and his familial history, ready to move on with the present. And his present was starting tonight. Tonight, he and Hermione would be secretly married, but without witnesses. There were still some habits hard to kill for both of them, even though they were used to each other now on a daily basis. Princess Freyja would perform the marriage, while Yvan, her husband, would keep watch.

 

  Midnight. Two silhouettes dashed into the Ishtar’s Chapel, where Freyja and Yvan were awaiting for them to execute the ceremony. By anticipation, Yvan locked the Chapel’s gates from the within with metallic bars. If they had to flee, they would escape by a tunnel hidden behind the giant statue of the Babylonian Moon Goddess.

 

  Hermione was fully dressed in white robes. Her wild hair was tied as a ponytail, and featured diamond sparkles, while diamond earrings were dangling from her ears. Draco was more sober, dressed up in a grey suit matching his eyes. The sole touch of green was his tie, and a white rose was replacing the conventional handkerchief in the pocket.

 

“Wow!” Exclaimed Freyja, visibly impressed. “What solemnity!”

“Come on, Dear,” warned her Yvan, “move on with it before the others detect than those two are in here with us.”

 

  Freyja nodded, and complied at once, by tying Draco and Hermione’s hands with a silky cordon, and reciting the long-established Uniting Spell:

 

“From this day forth,

May this Witch and Wizard

Be forever One.

For two lives are worth

Against the odds of the hazard,

For they’ll stay One.

May they live long,

So we’ll make of it a song.”

 

  Draco had just put the wedding ring at Hermione’s finger, than loud knocks on the doors resounded across the Chapel’s glazed relief blue-bricked walls. Within a quick exchange of glances with the two Slavic Wizards, they knew they had to move out, and fast, for Yvan cried out:

 

“It’s Mr. Malfoy!”

 

  Freyja swiftly closed her weddings’ book, just as the names Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger-Malfoy were finishing to imprint themselves in golden ink in it. Then, she summed Ishtar to open her gate to let them go with a tap of her wand at the feet of the statue. A cracking sound came in answer, as the large statue slipped aside to reveal the secret passageway behind.

 

“Quickly, now,” gestured Freyja to the newlyweds as they were getting inside the tunnel. “hurry!”

 

  Hermione and Draco had just vanished into the tunnel, than Mr. Malfoy penetrated inside the Chapel. Within seconds, he had grabbed Freyja’s book. Instinctively, Freyja relied on Professor Snape’s spell to disarm another Wizard.

 

“Expelliarmus!” She cried, and her book shooted out from Mr. Malfoy’s arms to return into hers. “Sorry, Lucius, “ she winked to him good-humouredly, before to borrow the tunnel with her husband, as Ishtar’s statue was slipping back to her former place, “but that’s my property!”

 

  Lucius Malfoy let hear a roar of anger as the Chapel’s lights turned off.

 

Chapter 18. Malfoy vs. Malfoy

 

  After passing through a spiral flight of stairs, the runaways reached an Egyptian barge, conducted by Anubis, Ouadjet’s jackal-headed brother. Emerging from the cabin, Ouadjet gestured to all get in, while Kitt and Anubis rowed to get away.

 

“You were expecting us, didn’t you?” Quizzed Draco as he was catching his breath. “And how come this Egyptian temple is beneath Ishtar’s Chapel?”

“This is the Nile of the Dead,” replied Ouadjet, “that’s why there are torches showing us the path to come back to the daylight, Draco, why the walls are representing the Book Of The Dead. We won’t be out of there until we’ll have gotten through all the seven gates.”

“This is so morbid,” said Hermione in a whisper.

“Cheer up,” quoted Kitt matter-of-factly, “Ouadjet and I have been going back and forth between both worlds more than you think!”

 

  The young couple observed the paintings, whom were as if they’d been recently finished by the artists; the deceased souls followed by their rows of servants to do their task if they were of high ranks; or others hunting, distracting themselves as they used to in their past life; and families being reunited. This entire happening at the banks of the black Nile, as black as China ink.

 

  When the barge came alongside the seventh gate, Ouadjet thanked Anubis for his services. The jackal-headed God bowed, before to return in the flooded alleys of the temple to pick up the newcomers to the Underworld.

 

  Back outside, Yvan and Freyja bided their friends goodbye, before they could get caught. Kitt brought back Hermione to her apartments, and Ouadjet did likewise for Draco. You never were too prudent, and what occurred the next day proven the elves right.

 

  Draco had just left the Slytherin Tower for breakfast, and returned to his Prophet of Slytherin’s full regalia, that he fell nose to nose with his father halfway through a corridor. And not far behind him was his mother, Narcissa. He had learnt than when his mother was following his father in his footsteps, than she was concerned about his welfare, aware of her husband’s own dark corners.

 

“So,” said coldly Mr. Malfoy, “you thought you could fool your father, didn’t you?”

“What are you talking about?” Retorted Draco. “I don’t understand.”

“Cut it out, right now!” Ordered Lucius. “Stop lying to me, Draco, you’re a bad liar, anyway.”

“Very well,” replied Draco, with a fierce expression printed on his features, “then learn that beside lying to you, I had enough to lie to the others and to myself, and listened to my heart instead!”

“And since when?” Asked Lucius, dubious.

“Since you were jailed at Azkaban.” Answered Draco, casually. “Why did you come back? You should have stayed back there, the farer you’re from me, the better!”

 

  The blow came without warning. Lucius shoved Draco in full face, knocking his son out of balance. Draco landed on the knees, coughing. As he rubbed his cheek with his ringless hand, he felt the blood dripping at the corner of his mouth.

 

“LUCIUS!” Cried out Narcissa.

“Stay out of it, Narcissa,” advised her cautiously her husband.

“He’s my son, too,” she argued, “I can’t believe you would strike your own blood…”

“What’s going on, here?” Joined in Harry, appearing behind Draco. “I’ve heard a terrible noise and Mrs. Malfoy screaming…”

“Mind your own business, Potter,” said Mr. Malfoy forbiddingly.

“You’ve stricken me?!” Coughed Draco as he got back up. “YOU’VE STRICKEN ME?!”

“I never thought you’d have the guts to stand up to me one day as you did, Draco,” replied his father; “I should have done it long ago, when I got the clue it was this Hermione Granger that was eating you up…”

“My choices never were, never will be, and are none of your concern, Father,” Draco breathed heavily, rubbing again red drops off the corner of his mouth, so they wouldn’t stain his robes.

“Are you enjoying the show so far, Potter?” Addressed Mr. Malfoy to Harry, who didn’t move from his position.

“Leave Harry alone, Father!” Said Draco firmly. “Give him a break!”

“That’s his fault if I ended up in Azkaban…” Began Lucius.

“NO,” interrupted his son deafly, “it’s yours alone, not his.”

“You’re taking his defence, now?” Hissed Mr. Malfoy.

“YES,” emphasized Draco.

“And so do I,” winked knowingly his wife to their son.

“What ingratitude!” Fussed Mr. Malfoy up to Draco. “After all I’ve done for you…”

“Seriously?” Responded Draco, feeling his blood broiling. “I never asked you to buy my way into the Slytherin Quidditch Team, nor to get Buckbeak executed either! NEVER! All I’ve ever wanted from you was to listen to me, but you never did, all you were interested in was to make of I your conform copy, when not trying corrupting me with your Dark Arts! If Mother didn’t have me send here, I never would have met Hermione Granger, nor fallen in love with her either! For if there are some things money can’t buy, it’s well friendship and love! Things you got me denied because you were constantly interfering with my own heart’s desires! Now, it’s over! I’m free, because I’ve chosen to be myself, and selected the persons I want to be with, and Harry Potter is one of them!”

 

  Stunned, Mr. Malfoy had listened to his son. He couldn’t believe his ears, yet he knew than Draco had spoken the truth. Still, there were some things he wanted cleared up once and for all, for he had understood than the rupture with his son was now unavoidable.

 

“All right,” he sighed, “you got those things right, Draco. But there are some things I’d like you explaining to me. For example, whom provoked Buckbeak to attack you?”

 

  Hermione was about to pass by where Harry was standing, when Mr. Malfoy’s question brought her to a stop, as well as Draco’s answer to him:

 

“You got the answer in front of you, Father,” riposted Draco unequivocally, “it’s I, nobody else. I did that when I realized than the affection between Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley might go deeper than it first was seemed to be…”

“Oh…” Gasped Narcissa, moved beyond words as a Malfoy could only be.

“You got mad because the girl you loved could have escaped you, then?” Reasoned Mr. Malfoy, as Draco nodded of the head affirmatively. “Great Lord! What have I done?”

“It’s too late for the regrets, Father,” sighed Draco, “if you came back from Azkaban to start everything over, it’s too late…”

“Why are you being so tough with me?” Asked Lucius, completely destabilized. 

“I’m speaking to you the way you’ve always spoken to me, why?” Replied Draco, and you could see on his own face how painful this clash was for him as well.

“One more thing, and I’m on my way:” said the father as he knelt at his son’s feet, and for the first time, there were tears glowing in his eyes, “Why did you toy with Pansy Parkinson’s feelings for you? How come you never toyed with Hermione Granger’s similarly?”

“I can tell she’s complained to you about me, for otherwise, you wouldn’t be asking me that,” frowned Draco, before to pursue: “Pansy Parkinson isn’t Hermione Granger, that’s where lies the difference between the two. Even if Hermione Granger isn’t a pureblooded Witch, she gots brains, is very smart and knows what she is doing. On the other hand, Pansy Parkinson is pureblooded, but is stupidity and miserliness combined. She wants to attract people’s attention on her; because she’s following you like a puppy dog in believing she gots it. Thanks a lot! I rather preferred Hermione Granger’s independent temper and personality, that’s why differences make good sparks!”

“And I presume I don’t need to ask you the whereabouts of the silver Dragon and of the otter that ransacked my private library?” Said Mr. Malfoy weakly.

“That’s right!” A relieved Draco grinned.

 

  This was brought abruptly to an end by a cry coming from Hermione’s throat, who ran back fast to her apartments. Harry went right after her, followed shortly by Draco and Mrs. Malfoy, leaving an immobile Lucius in the middle of the corridor.

 

“BELOVED!” Yelled Draco to her, comprehending what had happened.

“Is this my daughter-in-law, then?” Beamed Narcissa to him. “This is promising to be entertaining!”

“Mother, please!” Called her back to order her son, red as a traffic light.

 

  But when they made it to the Maiden of Gryffindor’s apartments, the gates remained hostilely closed, for Draco remembered than only she could open them from the inside. And if she had decided to keep them shut, he will have to wait a long time in the hallway with his mother, before she does change her mind.

 

  Finally, the Griffins statues pushed away the wheeling glazed relief blue-stoned curtains they were holding into their paws, and the open doors permitted to Harry to walk out of the Chamber. In the rear was standing Hermione, waiting.

 

“Go ahead,” motioned Harry to him, “I’ve explained to her the whole stuff, she knows why you’ve made such replies to your father.”

“Thanks!” Said Draco, as he dashed into the Chamber, which doors closed at his rear as soon as he had passed them, under Hermione’s will.

“Maybe,” suggested Narcissa to Harry, “maybe we could take advantage of this situation, Potter, to know each other better, don’t you think?”

“Sounds definitively appropriate,” agreed Harry, as they returned to the corridor where was motionless still, a sourly defeated Lucius Malfoy.

 

  Meanwhile, inside the Maiden of Gryffindor Chamber…

 

“Promise to me you’ve never toyed with my feelings, Draco,” Hermione uttered as she squeezed his hands in hers, “and that you never will!”

“I promise,” he attracted her against him before to kiss her intensely, “I’d rather die than doing this to you! I PROMISE!”

 

To be continued…