Songlines; Chapter 1
Jun. 24th, 2008 11:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
silyaraTitle: Songlines
To:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
joanwilder
Author/Artist:silyara
Pairing/Threesome: Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione (side), Neville/Luna (implied)
Rating: R (overall)
Warnings: EWE, dom/sub
Word count: 19500+
Summary: Draco is assigned to help Harry and Hermione find the Grangers in Australia. But along the way, the two are bonded, which changes everything.
Chapter: 1 of 7
Disclaimer: I am simply playing. JKR has the rights.
Request: Slash, post-war fic, romance, sex toys, consensual BDSM, Dom/Sub roles, sex in odd locations, desperate!sex, forced magical bonding, claiming and marking, EWE, united begrudgingly by a purpose
Author’s Notes: First off, thank you to my beta, C. I tried to fit in as much of the request as I could, but the boys didn’t want to do everything. They had their own ideas, and I followed along for the ride. I enjoyed it, and I hope you will too.
“Remind me why he’s here again,” Harry whispered in Hermione’s ear as they hiked across the Outback, where her parents apparently liked to spend all their free time since moving Down Under.
“Mandatory community service,” she snapped back quietly, as Malfoy walked about fifteen feet above them on the trail. Considering how much of a crybaby he had been, he had been doing remarkably well, but even that got on Harry’s nerves.
“But why with us?” Harry persisted. Understandably Ron had opted into staying behind, what with Fred’s funeral and all, but Hermione had wanted to find her parents as soon as they could leave, which had been after the trials. Harry had naturally come. But right before they left, Kingsley Shacklebolt had sent them an owl telling them Malfoy would be coming, giving a rather slim explanation.
“He knows more magic about finding people, Harry,” Hermione explained wearily. Camping had not been like this because they had Apparated, not hiked. And it was cold, as what Harry thought of as summer were actually the winter months on the other side of the world. “And,” she continued, “it will help teach him about muggles.”
“So that he can hate them from experience rather than in abstraction?” Harry continued whining. The muggles they had dealt with were not the most helpful.
“He’s done better than you,’ Hermione snapped, “You have no idea of trying to get information out of people. He politely inquired about them to the muggles working in their office. He was the one that found out they were out here.”
“And I so appreciate being out here,” Harry snorted.
“Finding them was never going to be a walk in the park,” Hermione said.
“Compared to saving the Wizarding world? It should be,” Harry rubbed his gloved hands together.
“It takes patience,” she emphasized, as Hermione did every day.
“Potter, Granger,” Malfoy called from ahead, “there’s something here. Something magical.”
“What? What is it?” Harry demanded as he sprinted up to Malfoy, except there was nothing around them. And he was looking at the ground. “Well what is it?”
“I’m not sure,” he looked up annoyed, “I’m trying to figure it out.” He crouched on the ground and brushed around, as if the bare ground would tell him something.
Harry tapped his foot impatiently. “Is this going to help us find Hermione’s parents?”
“As I do not even know what kind of magic it is,” Malfoy repeated, not looking up, “that would be a bit difficult to determine.”
“You’re the ‘specialist,’” Harry spoke angrily, not appreciating spending any more time in the cold than necessary, “figure it out.”
“We’re across the world Potter, and I am eighteen years old,” Malfoy replied sounding superior, “you cannot expect me to know everything about the magic here.”
“Does it even matter? We just need to find her parents,” Harry pushed.
“If you will not let me try to figure out what it is,” Malfoy sneered, “I suggest you do not use your wand. There’s no telling what might happen.”
“Is that a threat?” Harry asked. He had been wary of giving Malfoy his wand back but did so in the end.
“It’s the truth,” Malfoy stated.
“Yes, because as you do not know what it is, you know it will do something,” Harry laughed.
“Since we don’t know, it could do something,” Malfoy defended his statement.
“Whatever,” Harry rolled his eyes, pulling out his wand.
“Potter, are you a complete idiot?!” Malfoy shouted, and Hermione began to come closer to split up another potential fight.
“I want warm hands,” Harry shrugged.
“So do it over there,” Malfoy shrieked.
“I don’t feel like it,” Harry ignored the annoying blond and did a warming charm.
Then it felt like the world exploded or something. He felt the magic radiating up from the ground, and it grabbed him – not physically – but in some way he did not understand, and Harry did not like it. He felt heavy, as if he were being overloaded with magic beyond his own, and he fell to the ground, whereupon opening his eyes, he noticed Malfoy was down as well. What the bloody hell had happened?
“You idiot!” Hermione screamed at him from right above him, “Malfoy’s an arse, but he knows more about this than you did! Now, does anything hurt? I have essence of dittany.”
“No,” Harry spat back. And nothing hurt, though he the heavy feeling was still there, though slowly lessening. Or his body was growing used to it. Had he gained magical powers? Why did he feel…more magic? And it was definitely foreign, not his kind.
“Fucking idiot,” Malfoy swore, getting up and brushing his pants off. “I don’t want to be anywhere near you in case you decide to try to kill us yet again.”
“Sounds like the first decent idea you’ve come up with,” Harry retorted, getting up as well. He glared at Malfoy’s back as it continued on the hiking trail. They had been an estimated hour away from the campsite Hermione’s parents were at, if they kept up the pace. Checking to make sure his glasses were not broken, a shot of pain ran up his back and he dropped them with a shout.
“Fucking A!” Malfoy shouted from ahead. Harry had never known how vulgar he could be.
“What’d you do, git?” Harry shouted back at him.
“Nothing,” Malfoy shouted back, returning to them, “I was just walking, and suddenly my entire spine felt like it was on fire.”
“Yours too?” Harry asked, shocked.
“The magic in the ground clearly did something,” Hermione stated, as if the two were really that dense.
“We can go find you a library after we find your parents. We’ve been hiking all day. I do not want to have to do this again,” Harry told her, “Malfoy and I can…just stay within that distance of each other until then.”
“And not kill each other?” she asked.
“I have never killed anyone,” Malfoy pointed out in his defense.
“Harry?” Hermione asked.
“I’m not going to kill the git, okay,” he rolled his eyes. He hadn’t even used a killing curse to kill Voldemort!
“Right,” she said calmly, “I think I will still stay between the two of you to make sure of that.”
“The sun is going to go down in a little over an hour,” Malfoy commented, “can we just keep a fast pace and set up the tent tonight and look for her parents tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Hermione replied immediately. “Let’s go.”
Sometimes he would ask about useful things, such as the charms she used during their time camping during the school year, but mostly he just kept talking, which was an attempt to keep his mind of Lupin’s and Tonks’s and Fred’s and everyone else’s deaths. Malfoy occasionally snapped, asking for some peace and quiet, but Harry did not pay him much mind. Malfoy had to be with them and lacked authority.
The sun set a few minutes before they arrived at the camping site. Hermione paid the fee (though the money had come from Harry’s bank account, as she had emptied hers for the trip the year before) as the two boys began pitching the tent.
“Do you ever just shut up?” Malfoy asked as they held the two poles up inside the tent and Harry charmed his to stay there.
“Why does it matter?” Harry quipped back as he walked out to begin slamming the stakes into the ground.
“You can’t hear anything if there is constant noise,” Malfoy called out of the tent, and Harry looked at his silhouette against the tent wall.
“Perhaps Crabbe and Goyle were not the best conversationalists,” Harry began, slamming the next stake in, “but generally I talk with my friends.”
“We are in a foreign country with strange foreign magic that, if you did not notice, has already done something to us,” Malfoy hissed out. “There could be more things like that.”
“Well, magic set off whatever that was. I wasn’t doing any spells,” Harry called back, thinking Malfoy really had his boxers in a twist.
“Yes, but what it did to us could be setting something off. And in silence, you could hear if something was approaching,” Malfoy continued, just as stubborn.
“You think it summoned something to come after us?” Harry asked. He had dealt with enough dangerous people and beasts as he saw it, as least for a few months until Auror training.
“I have no clue,” Malfoy repeated from earlier, “but it’s better to be cautious.”
“If you’re scared that the boogey man is going to get you, relax. I’ll save your delicate arse,” Harry laughed.
“This is old magic, Potter, not some Beedle the Bard tale,” Malfoy warned him, releasing the pole, as there were enough stakes to hold it. He left Harry to finish the others to secure it while he set up wood for a fire.
Harry laughed at Malfoy’s comment, considering one of those tales had proven correct and had been horribly important at that. But he could never explain that to Malfoy, even if the wand’s identity had been shouted in the middle of his duel with Voldemort. Hopefully that would fade into the category of myth and rumor, so that no one would attack him to try to win the wand. Harry wanted to die undefeated, so that the wand would no longer be able to be used.
Hermione finally walked into their campsite, shivering slightly, so she sat near the fire where Malfoy was. Harry joined them as she pulled out food from the cooler she had expanded internally and shrunk externally so as not to take up so much room. “We can find them tomorrow,” she stated, “then when we all return to the city, you two can look into whatever happened to you while I spend some time with them.”
Harry took the food from Hermione to cook over the fire – the experience with the Dursleys actually coming in handy since they had food to cook. Hermione had grown better at charming food, but there were too many muggles nearby. No one really had much to say. Hermione felt scared about her parents’ reactions to what she did, but she never wanted to talk about it in front of Malfoy, and Harry did not much feel like talking to him at the moment, and he felt similarly about Malfoy as well.
They ate silently before entering the tent, closing the front flaps and performing a few charms to make the ground more comfortable. Then they slept in their usual order – Hermione between the two boys. Ron probably would not like hearing about that, but she insisted it was better than the two of them throttling each other in their sleep.
The morning came quickly, crisp and cold, demanding a few layers for each of them. Having only one tent, the boys first faced the flap, not talking, while Hermione changed before she left to prepare breakfast while they silently changed. Harry could never bring himself to say anything about the scar on Malfoy’s chest, from the incident in Sixth Year, but the two had grown better at ignoring awkward moments. Harry pulled a Weasley sweater over his head, along with a jacket, gloves, and a warm hat and left the tent without saying anything.
Hermione had made some sausages and bacon, and it actually tasted decent. She was getting much better at cooking. Everyone’s eyes were looking out – as if her parents could walk by at any moment. They ate quickly, before the meat got cold, and began to wander around the campsite. Having woken up early, many people were still sleeping. Those that saw them mostly ignored them and went about their business – mostly leaving on some day hike.
A middle-aged fellow was at the tap in the middle of the camping grounds, fetching some water. Most of him was covered – for the cold weather – but Hermione gasped, recognizing how he walked. Apparently it was her father. Trying not to appear like stalkers, they followed him long enough to see where the campsite was, where her mother was cooking pancakes. Her hair looked exactly like Hermione’s.
Her eyes looked over at Harry, “Do I do it now? Or…or should I wait?”
Never having had parents, Harry felt at a loss of what to suggest. He had never had family, true family. And he froze.
“We should come back after dinner,” Malfoy said, “everyone will be more awake. And we’ll seem less like we’re stalking them.”
“But we are stalking them,” Harry pointed out.
“Yes, git,” Malfoy sneered, “but they will probably feel a bit less like that if we come later in the day.”
“Why?”
“We got here late last night, and the very next morning we find them?” Malfoy asked, “there’s no way that could be a coincidence. It will put them off and not want to trust us.”
“Okay,” Hermione whispered quietly, “So, um, what shall we do all day?”
“I think I’ll study for my N.E.W.T.s,” Malfoy replied, “as I will actually be taking them.”
Hermione gasped, “Oh Merlin, I must be so behind! I’ll never be ready to take them in time.”
“I am sure they’ll understand, Granger,” Malfoy drawled, “you were a bit busy saving the world with Potter. It took up all your study time.”
“I should have brought more books with us,” Hermione moaned, “all those boring camping nights. I could have been learning stuff!”
“You’ll do fine,” Harry said in rote. She had performed a N.E.W.T. level charm in Fifth Year. She could not be that far behind. But stuck with two people who would rather study than play exploding snap or wizarding chess, Harry soon succumbed to the book reading. Even if he had been given a pass on the required N.E.W.T.s for Auror training based off his having killed Voldemort, he supposed that it would be good to try not to be behind the other students in the entering class.
Except for a lunch break, studying was all they did all day. Hermione grew nervous if her brain was not occupied with something else, and Harry could not distract her well enough with talking, so she kept with the books. Harry had grown bored and gone outside a few times, but it was cold enough that he always came back.
Harry cooked dinner after Hermione had barely been able to pick up the cooler without shaking. Malfoy told her that her parents loved her and still would, while Harry cooked and felt slightly jealous that they both had loving parents. Still, he could hardly have desired his parents to have gone through what Malfoy’s had (as he heard in the trial and saw in Voldemort’s mind) or have to hide them away like Hermione had done for their own sake. And he had been able to talk to them that one time, when he thought he would die. Harry would never forget that one conversation he had with his parents, the only one he would ever have.
They made their way over to her parents’ campsite, where the older couple sat reading books next to each other by the campfire, having finished eating as well. Harry felt butterflies, and he was pretty sure Hermione was nauseous. Malfoy looked collected, but he was the most innocent in this situation.
“Wendell and Monika Wilkins?” Hermione asked, which came out a bit squeaky.
“Yes?” her father looked up, confused.
“You sound British,” her mother commented, “I know we had a little trouble with our passports, but everything cleared.”
“It’s not about that, ma’am,” Malfoy spoke up, “but if we could speak inside, that would be much appreciated.” He spoke with such authority, the kind that only someone born into a higher position could talk, and despite the age difference, Hermione’s parents went along.
Hermione failed at saying anything as they settled inside the tent, sitting on the hard floor. So Malfoy kept going, “We are from Britain, and we have some difficult news to tell you, some of which you may think is false. Please let us finish; then you can ask any questions you may have. You moved here about a year ago as Wendell and Monika Wilkins. You are not, actually, Wendell and Monika Wilkins.”
He held up a hand as her mother opened her mouth to interrupt. “You had some memory damage,” he continued, “and it was thought you would be better off here. So you were given what you needed to get your lives going again because that was the best option at the time. However, we are here to fix the problem. We are going to help restore your memories.
“That sounds incredibly odd, but we know more about this area than you do, so I need you to simply trust me on this. The process will not hurt. Please close your eyes,” Draco spoke with authority that Harry had only seen from Lucius Malfoy. And they… submitted, closed their eyes and waited.
Malfoy looked over at Hermione, nudging her to go. As she had performed the charm, she was the best choice for undoing it. She pulled out her wand, trembling, but Malfoy gave her an affirmative look. Saying the words and waving her wand, she finished the spell before either parent doubted Malfoy’s authority and peeked. She then grabbed Harry’s arm and waited.
They opened their eyes, and their mouths gaped open. “You’re a witch!” “I have a daughter!” “How could you do this!” “You erased our memories!” “What kind of daughter could do that to her parents?!”
“Mom, Dad,” Hermione called out weakly, “please listen.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Granger,” Malfoy began again, trying to use the authority he had earlier, “please listen to her.”
Her mother looked his face up and down, “Why should we listen to you? You never did anything but hurt our daughter.”
“And look what our daughter did to us. Our entire lives… gone. I hate camping!” her father shouted.
“Please, please!” Hermione begged.
“She did it because she LOVED you,” Malfoy bellowed over the many voices. Everyone stopped. “You were not there to see the war, and neither of them saw what happened when you had family in England. But I saw, so before you get overly upset, perhaps you would like to hear what would have happened.
“They did not just kill you. No, that would be too kind, too painless. Most muggle-borns and their family were caught and tortured, actually tortured for hours. Others were given to Fenrir, a werewolf who likes to… have his way with children before biting them. Others were given to the Dementors, so that they became less than human. And these were muggle-borns and their families that were doing nothing more than existing. She was off with Potter trying to save the world. They would have done anything to you to get to him through her – torture, maim, and if you had been lucky, kill.
“You are on the other side of the world with nothing other than your profession linking you to who you were before. You were safe. So appreciate that you are not even in a condition to be able to be angry at her,” Malfoy finished, orating it with a voice worthy to inspire masses. Harry had never known he could do that, much less have guessed he would help Hermione’s parents come to an understanding.
They sat there, not speaking, for a few minutes, just staring across the tent at the three of them in shock. Finally, her mother spoke, “We would have left, Hermione, if you told us.”
She shook her head, “I wasn’t sure. And, he…Voldemort would have found you anyway. He killed people all across Europe. And the only way you could fake it believably was if you believed it.” She was sniffling.
“Just,” her father said, “never do anything like that again. I know you’re a witch now, and you can do things we’ll never be able to do. But we are still your parents, and you shouldn’t be making decisions like that for us. We’re adults.”
She nodded, “Of course. I’ll never, ever again.” And tears burst out of her eyes. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what else to do,” her shoulders heaved. Harry gave her a hug, but her mother came over and pulled the witch away from him. Harry and Malfoy slipped out of the tent and sat on the ground outside.
“Thanks,” Harry said, “I didn’t expect that.”
Malfoy kicked the ground, “It as all true. It was better if your family was gone, no matter who you were.”
Harry nodded, but Malfoy knew Harry had seen him sometimes. It had come out in the trial. They sat there in an uneasy silence, though Harry’s respect for him had grown intensely for what he did in there.
To:
joanwilderAuthor/Artist:
silyaraPairing/Threesome: Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione (side), Neville/Luna (implied)
Rating: R (overall)
Warnings: EWE, dom/sub
Word count: 19500+
Summary: Draco is assigned to help Harry and Hermione find the Grangers in Australia. But along the way, the two are bonded, which changes everything.
Chapter: 1 of 7
Disclaimer: I am simply playing. JKR has the rights.
Request: Slash, post-war fic, romance, sex toys, consensual BDSM, Dom/Sub roles, sex in odd locations, desperate!sex, forced magical bonding, claiming and marking, EWE, united begrudgingly by a purpose
Author’s Notes: First off, thank you to my beta, C. I tried to fit in as much of the request as I could, but the boys didn’t want to do everything. They had their own ideas, and I followed along for the ride. I enjoyed it, and I hope you will too.
“Remind me why he’s here again,” Harry whispered in Hermione’s ear as they hiked across the Outback, where her parents apparently liked to spend all their free time since moving Down Under.
“Mandatory community service,” she snapped back quietly, as Malfoy walked about fifteen feet above them on the trail. Considering how much of a crybaby he had been, he had been doing remarkably well, but even that got on Harry’s nerves.
“But why with us?” Harry persisted. Understandably Ron had opted into staying behind, what with Fred’s funeral and all, but Hermione had wanted to find her parents as soon as they could leave, which had been after the trials. Harry had naturally come. But right before they left, Kingsley Shacklebolt had sent them an owl telling them Malfoy would be coming, giving a rather slim explanation.
“He knows more magic about finding people, Harry,” Hermione explained wearily. Camping had not been like this because they had Apparated, not hiked. And it was cold, as what Harry thought of as summer were actually the winter months on the other side of the world. “And,” she continued, “it will help teach him about muggles.”
“So that he can hate them from experience rather than in abstraction?” Harry continued whining. The muggles they had dealt with were not the most helpful.
“He’s done better than you,’ Hermione snapped, “You have no idea of trying to get information out of people. He politely inquired about them to the muggles working in their office. He was the one that found out they were out here.”
“And I so appreciate being out here,” Harry snorted.
“Finding them was never going to be a walk in the park,” Hermione said.
“Compared to saving the Wizarding world? It should be,” Harry rubbed his gloved hands together.
“It takes patience,” she emphasized, as Hermione did every day.
“Potter, Granger,” Malfoy called from ahead, “there’s something here. Something magical.”
“What? What is it?” Harry demanded as he sprinted up to Malfoy, except there was nothing around them. And he was looking at the ground. “Well what is it?”
“I’m not sure,” he looked up annoyed, “I’m trying to figure it out.” He crouched on the ground and brushed around, as if the bare ground would tell him something.
Harry tapped his foot impatiently. “Is this going to help us find Hermione’s parents?”
“As I do not even know what kind of magic it is,” Malfoy repeated, not looking up, “that would be a bit difficult to determine.”
“You’re the ‘specialist,’” Harry spoke angrily, not appreciating spending any more time in the cold than necessary, “figure it out.”
“We’re across the world Potter, and I am eighteen years old,” Malfoy replied sounding superior, “you cannot expect me to know everything about the magic here.”
“Does it even matter? We just need to find her parents,” Harry pushed.
“If you will not let me try to figure out what it is,” Malfoy sneered, “I suggest you do not use your wand. There’s no telling what might happen.”
“Is that a threat?” Harry asked. He had been wary of giving Malfoy his wand back but did so in the end.
“It’s the truth,” Malfoy stated.
“Yes, because as you do not know what it is, you know it will do something,” Harry laughed.
“Since we don’t know, it could do something,” Malfoy defended his statement.
“Whatever,” Harry rolled his eyes, pulling out his wand.
“Potter, are you a complete idiot?!” Malfoy shouted, and Hermione began to come closer to split up another potential fight.
“I want warm hands,” Harry shrugged.
“So do it over there,” Malfoy shrieked.
“I don’t feel like it,” Harry ignored the annoying blond and did a warming charm.
Then it felt like the world exploded or something. He felt the magic radiating up from the ground, and it grabbed him – not physically – but in some way he did not understand, and Harry did not like it. He felt heavy, as if he were being overloaded with magic beyond his own, and he fell to the ground, whereupon opening his eyes, he noticed Malfoy was down as well. What the bloody hell had happened?
“You idiot!” Hermione screamed at him from right above him, “Malfoy’s an arse, but he knows more about this than you did! Now, does anything hurt? I have essence of dittany.”
“No,” Harry spat back. And nothing hurt, though he the heavy feeling was still there, though slowly lessening. Or his body was growing used to it. Had he gained magical powers? Why did he feel…more magic? And it was definitely foreign, not his kind.
“Fucking idiot,” Malfoy swore, getting up and brushing his pants off. “I don’t want to be anywhere near you in case you decide to try to kill us yet again.”
“Sounds like the first decent idea you’ve come up with,” Harry retorted, getting up as well. He glared at Malfoy’s back as it continued on the hiking trail. They had been an estimated hour away from the campsite Hermione’s parents were at, if they kept up the pace. Checking to make sure his glasses were not broken, a shot of pain ran up his back and he dropped them with a shout.
“Fucking A!” Malfoy shouted from ahead. Harry had never known how vulgar he could be.
“What’d you do, git?” Harry shouted back at him.
“Nothing,” Malfoy shouted back, returning to them, “I was just walking, and suddenly my entire spine felt like it was on fire.”
“Yours too?” Harry asked, shocked.
“The magic in the ground clearly did something,” Hermione stated, as if the two were really that dense.
“We can go find you a library after we find your parents. We’ve been hiking all day. I do not want to have to do this again,” Harry told her, “Malfoy and I can…just stay within that distance of each other until then.”
“And not kill each other?” she asked.
“I have never killed anyone,” Malfoy pointed out in his defense.
“Harry?” Hermione asked.
“I’m not going to kill the git, okay,” he rolled his eyes. He hadn’t even used a killing curse to kill Voldemort!
“Right,” she said calmly, “I think I will still stay between the two of you to make sure of that.”
“The sun is going to go down in a little over an hour,” Malfoy commented, “can we just keep a fast pace and set up the tent tonight and look for her parents tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Hermione replied immediately. “Let’s go.”
Sometimes he would ask about useful things, such as the charms she used during their time camping during the school year, but mostly he just kept talking, which was an attempt to keep his mind of Lupin’s and Tonks’s and Fred’s and everyone else’s deaths. Malfoy occasionally snapped, asking for some peace and quiet, but Harry did not pay him much mind. Malfoy had to be with them and lacked authority.
The sun set a few minutes before they arrived at the camping site. Hermione paid the fee (though the money had come from Harry’s bank account, as she had emptied hers for the trip the year before) as the two boys began pitching the tent.
“Do you ever just shut up?” Malfoy asked as they held the two poles up inside the tent and Harry charmed his to stay there.
“Why does it matter?” Harry quipped back as he walked out to begin slamming the stakes into the ground.
“You can’t hear anything if there is constant noise,” Malfoy called out of the tent, and Harry looked at his silhouette against the tent wall.
“Perhaps Crabbe and Goyle were not the best conversationalists,” Harry began, slamming the next stake in, “but generally I talk with my friends.”
“We are in a foreign country with strange foreign magic that, if you did not notice, has already done something to us,” Malfoy hissed out. “There could be more things like that.”
“Well, magic set off whatever that was. I wasn’t doing any spells,” Harry called back, thinking Malfoy really had his boxers in a twist.
“Yes, but what it did to us could be setting something off. And in silence, you could hear if something was approaching,” Malfoy continued, just as stubborn.
“You think it summoned something to come after us?” Harry asked. He had dealt with enough dangerous people and beasts as he saw it, as least for a few months until Auror training.
“I have no clue,” Malfoy repeated from earlier, “but it’s better to be cautious.”
“If you’re scared that the boogey man is going to get you, relax. I’ll save your delicate arse,” Harry laughed.
“This is old magic, Potter, not some Beedle the Bard tale,” Malfoy warned him, releasing the pole, as there were enough stakes to hold it. He left Harry to finish the others to secure it while he set up wood for a fire.
Harry laughed at Malfoy’s comment, considering one of those tales had proven correct and had been horribly important at that. But he could never explain that to Malfoy, even if the wand’s identity had been shouted in the middle of his duel with Voldemort. Hopefully that would fade into the category of myth and rumor, so that no one would attack him to try to win the wand. Harry wanted to die undefeated, so that the wand would no longer be able to be used.
Hermione finally walked into their campsite, shivering slightly, so she sat near the fire where Malfoy was. Harry joined them as she pulled out food from the cooler she had expanded internally and shrunk externally so as not to take up so much room. “We can find them tomorrow,” she stated, “then when we all return to the city, you two can look into whatever happened to you while I spend some time with them.”
Harry took the food from Hermione to cook over the fire – the experience with the Dursleys actually coming in handy since they had food to cook. Hermione had grown better at charming food, but there were too many muggles nearby. No one really had much to say. Hermione felt scared about her parents’ reactions to what she did, but she never wanted to talk about it in front of Malfoy, and Harry did not much feel like talking to him at the moment, and he felt similarly about Malfoy as well.
They ate silently before entering the tent, closing the front flaps and performing a few charms to make the ground more comfortable. Then they slept in their usual order – Hermione between the two boys. Ron probably would not like hearing about that, but she insisted it was better than the two of them throttling each other in their sleep.
The morning came quickly, crisp and cold, demanding a few layers for each of them. Having only one tent, the boys first faced the flap, not talking, while Hermione changed before she left to prepare breakfast while they silently changed. Harry could never bring himself to say anything about the scar on Malfoy’s chest, from the incident in Sixth Year, but the two had grown better at ignoring awkward moments. Harry pulled a Weasley sweater over his head, along with a jacket, gloves, and a warm hat and left the tent without saying anything.
Hermione had made some sausages and bacon, and it actually tasted decent. She was getting much better at cooking. Everyone’s eyes were looking out – as if her parents could walk by at any moment. They ate quickly, before the meat got cold, and began to wander around the campsite. Having woken up early, many people were still sleeping. Those that saw them mostly ignored them and went about their business – mostly leaving on some day hike.
A middle-aged fellow was at the tap in the middle of the camping grounds, fetching some water. Most of him was covered – for the cold weather – but Hermione gasped, recognizing how he walked. Apparently it was her father. Trying not to appear like stalkers, they followed him long enough to see where the campsite was, where her mother was cooking pancakes. Her hair looked exactly like Hermione’s.
Her eyes looked over at Harry, “Do I do it now? Or…or should I wait?”
Never having had parents, Harry felt at a loss of what to suggest. He had never had family, true family. And he froze.
“We should come back after dinner,” Malfoy said, “everyone will be more awake. And we’ll seem less like we’re stalking them.”
“But we are stalking them,” Harry pointed out.
“Yes, git,” Malfoy sneered, “but they will probably feel a bit less like that if we come later in the day.”
“Why?”
“We got here late last night, and the very next morning we find them?” Malfoy asked, “there’s no way that could be a coincidence. It will put them off and not want to trust us.”
“Okay,” Hermione whispered quietly, “So, um, what shall we do all day?”
“I think I’ll study for my N.E.W.T.s,” Malfoy replied, “as I will actually be taking them.”
Hermione gasped, “Oh Merlin, I must be so behind! I’ll never be ready to take them in time.”
“I am sure they’ll understand, Granger,” Malfoy drawled, “you were a bit busy saving the world with Potter. It took up all your study time.”
“I should have brought more books with us,” Hermione moaned, “all those boring camping nights. I could have been learning stuff!”
“You’ll do fine,” Harry said in rote. She had performed a N.E.W.T. level charm in Fifth Year. She could not be that far behind. But stuck with two people who would rather study than play exploding snap or wizarding chess, Harry soon succumbed to the book reading. Even if he had been given a pass on the required N.E.W.T.s for Auror training based off his having killed Voldemort, he supposed that it would be good to try not to be behind the other students in the entering class.
Except for a lunch break, studying was all they did all day. Hermione grew nervous if her brain was not occupied with something else, and Harry could not distract her well enough with talking, so she kept with the books. Harry had grown bored and gone outside a few times, but it was cold enough that he always came back.
Harry cooked dinner after Hermione had barely been able to pick up the cooler without shaking. Malfoy told her that her parents loved her and still would, while Harry cooked and felt slightly jealous that they both had loving parents. Still, he could hardly have desired his parents to have gone through what Malfoy’s had (as he heard in the trial and saw in Voldemort’s mind) or have to hide them away like Hermione had done for their own sake. And he had been able to talk to them that one time, when he thought he would die. Harry would never forget that one conversation he had with his parents, the only one he would ever have.
They made their way over to her parents’ campsite, where the older couple sat reading books next to each other by the campfire, having finished eating as well. Harry felt butterflies, and he was pretty sure Hermione was nauseous. Malfoy looked collected, but he was the most innocent in this situation.
“Wendell and Monika Wilkins?” Hermione asked, which came out a bit squeaky.
“Yes?” her father looked up, confused.
“You sound British,” her mother commented, “I know we had a little trouble with our passports, but everything cleared.”
“It’s not about that, ma’am,” Malfoy spoke up, “but if we could speak inside, that would be much appreciated.” He spoke with such authority, the kind that only someone born into a higher position could talk, and despite the age difference, Hermione’s parents went along.
Hermione failed at saying anything as they settled inside the tent, sitting on the hard floor. So Malfoy kept going, “We are from Britain, and we have some difficult news to tell you, some of which you may think is false. Please let us finish; then you can ask any questions you may have. You moved here about a year ago as Wendell and Monika Wilkins. You are not, actually, Wendell and Monika Wilkins.”
He held up a hand as her mother opened her mouth to interrupt. “You had some memory damage,” he continued, “and it was thought you would be better off here. So you were given what you needed to get your lives going again because that was the best option at the time. However, we are here to fix the problem. We are going to help restore your memories.
“That sounds incredibly odd, but we know more about this area than you do, so I need you to simply trust me on this. The process will not hurt. Please close your eyes,” Draco spoke with authority that Harry had only seen from Lucius Malfoy. And they… submitted, closed their eyes and waited.
Malfoy looked over at Hermione, nudging her to go. As she had performed the charm, she was the best choice for undoing it. She pulled out her wand, trembling, but Malfoy gave her an affirmative look. Saying the words and waving her wand, she finished the spell before either parent doubted Malfoy’s authority and peeked. She then grabbed Harry’s arm and waited.
They opened their eyes, and their mouths gaped open. “You’re a witch!” “I have a daughter!” “How could you do this!” “You erased our memories!” “What kind of daughter could do that to her parents?!”
“Mom, Dad,” Hermione called out weakly, “please listen.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Granger,” Malfoy began again, trying to use the authority he had earlier, “please listen to her.”
Her mother looked his face up and down, “Why should we listen to you? You never did anything but hurt our daughter.”
“And look what our daughter did to us. Our entire lives… gone. I hate camping!” her father shouted.
“Please, please!” Hermione begged.
“She did it because she LOVED you,” Malfoy bellowed over the many voices. Everyone stopped. “You were not there to see the war, and neither of them saw what happened when you had family in England. But I saw, so before you get overly upset, perhaps you would like to hear what would have happened.
“They did not just kill you. No, that would be too kind, too painless. Most muggle-borns and their family were caught and tortured, actually tortured for hours. Others were given to Fenrir, a werewolf who likes to… have his way with children before biting them. Others were given to the Dementors, so that they became less than human. And these were muggle-borns and their families that were doing nothing more than existing. She was off with Potter trying to save the world. They would have done anything to you to get to him through her – torture, maim, and if you had been lucky, kill.
“You are on the other side of the world with nothing other than your profession linking you to who you were before. You were safe. So appreciate that you are not even in a condition to be able to be angry at her,” Malfoy finished, orating it with a voice worthy to inspire masses. Harry had never known he could do that, much less have guessed he would help Hermione’s parents come to an understanding.
They sat there, not speaking, for a few minutes, just staring across the tent at the three of them in shock. Finally, her mother spoke, “We would have left, Hermione, if you told us.”
She shook her head, “I wasn’t sure. And, he…Voldemort would have found you anyway. He killed people all across Europe. And the only way you could fake it believably was if you believed it.” She was sniffling.
“Just,” her father said, “never do anything like that again. I know you’re a witch now, and you can do things we’ll never be able to do. But we are still your parents, and you shouldn’t be making decisions like that for us. We’re adults.”
She nodded, “Of course. I’ll never, ever again.” And tears burst out of her eyes. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what else to do,” her shoulders heaved. Harry gave her a hug, but her mother came over and pulled the witch away from him. Harry and Malfoy slipped out of the tent and sat on the ground outside.
“Thanks,” Harry said, “I didn’t expect that.”
Malfoy kicked the ground, “It as all true. It was better if your family was gone, no matter who you were.”
Harry nodded, but Malfoy knew Harry had seen him sometimes. It had come out in the trial. They sat there in an uneasy silence, though Harry’s respect for him had grown intensely for what he did in there.
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Date: 2008-06-25 11:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-25 03:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-25 02:21 pm (UTC)Got me itching to know more too. XD
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Date: 2008-06-25 03:08 pm (UTC)And next chapter up tonight :D:D
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Date: 2008-06-25 05:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-25 05:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-25 07:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-25 08:11 pm (UTC)I'm not a R/Hr OTP person, but the pairing went well for the fic/it's coming right after the end of DH so, that's what canon says. And I'm a canon lover.
I hope the H/D focus of later chapters won't drive you away.
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Date: 2008-06-25 10:45 pm (UTC)(And remember: the quizzes I was referring to were the 'Which HP character do you look like', as opposed to 'Which HP character are you like'...)
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Date: 2008-06-25 10:56 pm (UTC)Aaaah, look. I suppose that makes it sort of worse for mental images then.
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Date: 2008-06-26 12:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-26 12:50 am (UTC)What others don't you know?