27. Dark Matter

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Chapter 27 - Dark Matter

Draco did give Harry quite a beating the next day. By the time the sun set, Harry was tired, sore and grumpy, but Draco would not relent. Eventually, Hermione fixed dinner and sent up sparks to let them know it was ready. As she set the table, they came into the kitchen arguing.

"But really, Malfoy, if I can't beat you, how am I going to have a chance against Voldemort?"

"Harry, you don't need to be able to beat me. You know what you need to know."

Harry sat down in a huff, scowling. He knew, he'd been told repeatedly, that it wouldn't be his skill that would win him the battle. It would be that extra something that Dumbledore had always talked about – the ancient magic. Still, when he was running in circles trying to avoid being hit by a spell, the thought wasn't comforting.

Draco helped Hermione finish setting the table and then they put the food out. During dinner, Hermione tried to make small talk with both of them, but to no avail. Harry only grunted and Draco responded with short answers, indicating he didn't want to talk. So she let it go and ate in silence.

When everyone was finished, she stood to clear the table.

"I'll do it," said Draco, standing.

"Harry, would you mind doing the dishes?" Hermione asked. "I need to talk to him."

Draco nearly dropped the plate he was cleaning.

"Sure," said Harry.

"Is that okay?" Hermione asked, addressing Draco.

"Uh, sure," he said hesitantly, relinquishing the sink.

Hermione went through the kitchen and out onto the porch. Draco looked at Harry questioningly, and Harry shrugged.

Draco waited a few minutes before joining Hermione on the porch. His head was spinning and his stomach a mess of nerves because he had no idea what she'd want to talk to him about that required Harry to be absent. He tried to think of what it could be, but nothing materialized.

Hermione was sitting in her favorite spot, looking out over the water. The moon was bright, and the waves could be seen. He sat stiffly in the chair next to hers.

She said nothing at first, so he cleared his throat. That got her attention, and she turned toward him in her seat.

"I'm not exactly sure how to say all of what I have to say, so please just let me talk."

He nodded slowly. "Okay."

"The day before you were injured your mother was arrested."

He whipped his head around to look at her, frowning severely. "What? Why?"

"I'm sure you remember that Andromeda was in Azkaban for her association with your mother." She paused, so Draco nodded. "Well, she was released the same day. The Prophet reported that she'd given the Ministry information on your mother to secure her release."

Draco was stunned. He was relieved, naturally, that she hadn't wanted to talk about them, for some reason, but this was hard too. He only nodded again and turned to look at the water.

He frowned. "That was over a week ago," he remembered. "Why are you only telling me this now?"

"You were hurt the same day I read the article in the paper. It completely slipped my mind. Then I wanted to wait for you to recover, and then… well, then you left again. I also wanted to have more to tell you than the mere fact of her arrest. I went to see her a few days ago."

Again, he looked at her, this time in amazement. "You… went to Azkaban to see my mother," he said very slowly, as a statement more than a question.

"Yes."

"And… why did they let you see her?"

"Because Andromeda had talked to me, so they thought I could get your mother to open up as well."

"Did she?"

"Yes, she did."

He shook his head, unbelieving. He didn't know what to think.

Hermione continued. "She told me a lot of things. One of those confirms what I believed after talking with Andromeda – that she cares about you. She truly called upon her sister over her worry about you."

Draco scoffed. "My mother can lie too, you know."

Hermione sighed. "I believe her," she said firmly.

"Why?"

"She told me that the two of you have never been close, but that two years ago, she noticed that something had changed in you."

Draco stiffened and his heart started beating faster. He had no desire to talk about that night, not now; he couldn't yet.

"She knew something was different, and she's watched you closely ever since. She said she was worried that your Master or other Death Eaters would find out and kill you. I think I know what happened." He looked at her, and she saw something new in his eyes. Not fear, exactly, though that was there too. "Something happened the night you went to kill my parents. Something that kept you from killing me, right?"

He nodded just once, his eyes racing all over her face, searching for a clue about what she thought she knew.

"Can you tell me?" she asked quietly.

Draco took three measured breaths, then said, "Not yet."

"Why not?"

He shook his head. "I can't. Not until this is over."

"But – it's important, and it must involve me, somehow. I have a right to know."

"That's true. However, I have the right to tell you when I think best."

She sighed heavily, forcing away the helpless frustration and the urge to say something spiteful. "Are you sure you won't tell me?"

He looked at her. "Yes. And I mean it."

After they regarded each other silently for a few moments, Hermione nodded. "Okay. But that's not all I need to tell you."

He frowned and cocked his head. "Oh?"

"No," she said, and he saw the now she was wringing her hands. "There's… a bit more. First, the entire thing was a plan developed by your mother."

"What – thing?" Draco asked.

"Narcissa knew that Andromeda would be the most likely to raise suspicion when she started visiting. She knew it would only be a matter of time until Andromeda would be taken to the Ministry for questioning. Then, after a certain amount of time had passed, Andromeda would give the Ministry something on your mother, something important, but not terrible. Narcissa wanted to be arrested."

"Why?" Draco asked. His mother and prison… not a great combination, he knew.

"That's the thing. Not only does your mother observe you, but she watches Lucius too. After all, he is her husband, and she knows him better than anyone else does. She told me that he has changed too, and not for the better. She said he's more violent, more verbally abusive towards her. She said she barely even recognizes him sometimes. His eyes are darker, and more… she used the word 'crazy.' And 'unbalanced.' "

"Well, he's not exactly all there, you know. Can't be to do what he does with no thought or concern."

Hermione shifted in her seat, and he realized what he'd said. In essence he'd separated himself from his father, saying they were different. When in truth, she probably still thought they were the same. She didn't say anything more though, and he suspected it was because she'd once promised not to speak about Lucius. But Draco found he desperately wanted to know what she was thinking. He just didn't know how to go about finding out what he really wanted to know – now, after all the time he'd spent with her, did she still think he was just like all the other Death Eaters?

"Was there anything else?" Draco asked quietly.

"Yes. Only, this is just my opinion. Speculation." He nodded. "I – I think Lucius might be the Horcrux. I mean, it all adds up. He's suddenly more violent than usual, and targets you especially. He's not too concerned with what Voldemort thinks, if he were to find out, about what he does to you. And then your mother – she's scared of her own husband! She'd rather be in prison than at home. She waited until Lucius was gone – off attacking you – for Andromeda to give the information. And she of all people would notice a change in him. The added violence would certainly make sense if he's been gifted with part of Voldemort's soul."

She'd been speaking quickly, not wanting to stop or even take a breath once she'd started. Now she was watching him, waiting for an outburst or whatever he might do.

He closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair. "Yeah. We had it down to him or someone else. But I thought it was him."

Hermione let her breath out, but she didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" he asked, sounding very tired and talking more to himself than to her. "I mean, it fits. I just – I can't help but wonder, why him? The Dark Lord told me repeatedly that he'd never give Lucius that kind of authority. Unless he doesn't care what happens to him, but it's a very important job."

"Draco?" Hermione said.

"Hmm?" he said distractedly, looking back at her.

"Is this – I mean – are you… okay?"

He blinked. "What?

"I just – it's your father. And… well, if he's the Horcrux, then…" she trailed off, reluctant to finish her sentence.

"He has to die," said Draco flatly.

"Well, right. But I mean, he's your father. Isn't that… hard?"

"Look what he raised me to be," said Draco with disgust. "Not exactly something to be proud of."

"But you made a choice to be different," she said quietly.

"A little too late, don't you think?" he asked, looking directly at her.

She took a deep breath. "Better late than never, they say. In the end, you've shown that you aren't like him at all."

It felt like a weight the size of a dragon had been lifted off his chest. He knew Harry trusted him, and believed in him. She'd once said she'd thought he'd changed, but he hadn't been thrilled at the time to hear it. He'd still felt he had to push her away. Now, though, he was grateful for her support. He'd grown to enjoy her presence in his life and not simply because he found her company enjoyable. She anchored him, provided a firm, steady foundation he could rely on, depend on.

It hit him that he wasn't sure he wanted to return to life without the grounding she provided. He was liable to just…float away, doomed to disappear. And she'd said his name… he felt nearly invincible.

He nodded slowly, certain that if he spoke too quickly she'd hear everything he felt in his voice.

"Do you… want to talk about it?" she asked.

"Do you honestly think I'd want to?" he asked, his voice a bit ragged.

"Well, no, but… if you do, you know…"

Draco looked out over the water again and felt a cool breeze run through his hair. It was like new; he almost felt like new. "I know. So – my mother. After all of this, you'll help get her out, right?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "And honestly, whatever Andromeda told them wasn't worth a life-sentence. I think it would be best for her to be in prison until it's all over."

He nodded. "Me too, at this point. She's safe there, and if my father truly is the Horcrux… she needs to be as far from him as she can possibly get."

"And since she'll be there for the end, there won't be any reason to suspect she's involved."

"Exactly." He turned to look at her and smiled, a true, genuine smile she didn't think she'd ever seen before. It did things to her insides that were both pleasant and not, all at the same time. She felt herself blushing and looked away from him before he could see it.

"Thank you," he said and he truly meant it. He'd said it.

"You're welcome," she said, feeling an odd sense of elation.

"You should know that this puts us very close."

"How close, exactly?" she asked slowly.

Draco thought for a moment. "I need to talk to Harry, but two weeks, I think. Maybe. Depends on how easy it is to confirm absolutely that Lucius is the Horcrux."

"So, two weeks. What happens then?"

"Then phase two is over, and we move to phase three. We'll come back after the two weeks to make final preparations. We'll need you to have your task finished as soon as possible."

She nodded. "I can finish it in these two weeks."

"Good."

"Final preparations for what?"

"We'll need provisions for a month, maybe more."

"A month? You'll be gone a whole month?"

"Yes. Maybe longer."

"Doing what?"

"Doesn't matter," said Draco firmly.

"What kinds of provisions?" she asked.

"Food, water, healing potions for minor things," Draco continued. "Anything that might be helpful."

"Okay, I'll do what I can to finish my work and get some potions brewing."

He nodded. "Good. Once we leave, we probably won't be able to return, so we'll give you instructions for what to do if… we're not successful."

She nodded, her heart leaden. "So, in a month and a half, I'll either be ecstatic or – " She couldn't bring herself to say the alternative. " – not."

Draco only nodded and stood up. "I need to go talk to Harry."

"Okay," she said heavily. "Draco… I mean it."

He looked at her intently, knowing she was again saying he could talk to her if he needed to. At the same time, what she was really saying, stuck in between her words, was that she was there for him if he needed her. He nodded, once again unable to say anything, and left.

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Later that day, Harry and Draco went outside to train on the ledge. After a few hours, Hermione wandered out onto the porch to read, but instead she went to the edge of the cliff and looked down.

They were dueling, and it was incredible to watch. Spells were flying all over the place, bright, multi-colored flashes in the dusk sun. Both men looked like blurs, they were moving so fast. As she watched, she noticed that Draco seemed the quicker. He was in control of the fight, and appeared to be a few steps ahead of Harry.

For his part, Harry looked to be just barely avoiding getting hit. He was reacting, whereas Draco was deciding how the duel would progress. Suddenly, Harry tripped and was hit with a bright blue curse, sending him hurtling toward the side of the cliff. She gasped, but just before he hit the wall, he froze in mid-air.

Hermione's eyes widened and she looked at Draco, who was pointing his wand at Harry, his brow furrowed in concentration. His lips were moving almost imperceptibly. She looked back at Harry and watched as he was gently lowered to the ground. When his body touched the earth, Draco released the spell and Harry slumped over in a heap. A moment later, he gathered himself and stood, brushing his robes off.

"Again," she heard Malfoy say. Harry groaned, but faced him nonetheless. Hermione was amazed at how skilled Draco was. He seemed to anticipate Harry's moves, and have the perfect counter-charm.

She pulled back from the edge and went onto the porch. When did Malfoy get so… well… good? She didn't remember such skill from their six years at school together, but then she really hadn't know him at all and certainly hadn't paid him much attention. Sure, he'd made it through his O.W.L.s well enough to be in some of the N.E.W.T. classes she had. Had he really been that smart all the time and she hadn't known it? Hermione shook her head and turned her attention to her book, which she read until she fell asleep.

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When she woke the next morning, she was snuggled under Draco's cloak yet again, and she knew they had gone. She inhaled deeply to capture his scent in order to remember it all day, and lay on the porch listening to the world wake up.

Hermione spent the next twelve days constantly busy. She quickly finished the clean-up task, then started gathering food and supplies for Harry and Draco, and preparing various healing potions. She also made some extra healing potions to keep on hand for more serious ailments, should they need to come to her for healing.

Then Harry and Draco returned after twelve days, not the intended fourteen.

"Hermione!"

Hermione's heart froze at the sound of panic in Harry's voice, and with the image of a beaten, bloodied Draco in her mind, she ran to the front door. Harry and Draco stood there, both of them very much alive, so she let out the breath she'd been holding.

"Oh, you scared me, Harry!"

"Help Malfoy!" urged Harry.

"What? – " Then she noticed that Draco looked a little green and glassy-eyed. "What happened?"

Harry removed his hand from Draco's arm, pulling off a black rag to reveal a deep, black, bubbling wound.

Hermione gasped. Draco swayed dangerously and Harry literally had to hold him up.

"Bring him into the kitchen," she said. Draco looked at her with fevered eyes and she knew that she would have to work fast. Harry led him to a chair propped against the wall.

"What happened, Harry?"

"I'm not sure, really. I didn't see it happen. He was fighting with two or three of them, I was dealing with one, and I heard a cry of pain, but when I turned around he was the only one left standing. There was a gash in his cloak and shirt, and I saw bright red blood. Then he kinda staggered forward and fell on his knees. I Stunned my opponent and went to his side. By then he'd turned a sick shade of green and the wound was pouring out black stuff."

"Looks like a dagger or other sharp object. What is with these Death Eaters and their pointy instruments? Whatever happened to well-aimed spells and the like?" Hermione was now rummaging through a cabinet to find a purple-colored potion. She put a drop or two into the wound and green smoke rose from it.

"A poisoned sharp object. I think it cut a major artery," she said, now rummaging again for another vial, this one containing a deep green liquid. Draco was beginning to foam at the mouth. Hermione forced his mouth open and poured the contents of the vial down his throat. "Come on," she muttered.

Draco's eyes closed and for a moment he seemed to have passed out. Then suddenly they flew open, clear and stormy as ever. She let out a relieved squeak and smiled shyly as she turned her attention to the wound itself. The green liquid had stopped the oozing, but the skin around it was still black.

"Harry, get me one of the vials labeled 'blood,' would you?" He went into the cupboard to get what she needed and held it out to her. She shook her head. "No, I'm going to repair the artery. When I tell you to, make him drink it."

"Okay."

Hermione bit her lip in concentration as she found the severed blood vessel and magically put the ends together. "Okay, go ahead."

Harry cautiously forced Malfoy to drink the potion. A long moment after he'd swallowed, his eyes flicked open and he coughed.

"That is vile, Granger."

"Nice to see you too, Malfoy," she said, closing the deep gash. It took her about twenty minutes because she had to repair each layer of skin separately, along with each tiny blood vessel and every muscle fiber.

When she was finished, Draco leaned his head against the wall and took slow, deep breaths. "Wow, poison does some strange things to your mind. I had visions of you and Harry prancing – yes, prancing – around a fire, warbling. I was tied to a big stick and was spinning over the fire. You told Harry to put more paprika on my nose, said I wasn't cooking right."

Hermione couldn't help but giggle. "Is that so?"

"Yeah, and I wasn't even worried about it. I remember thinking, yeah, my nose could use some more paprika."

"Well, we won't be roasting you over a campfire any time soon, right Harry?"

"Speak for yourself, I'm starving!"

"Harry!" scolded Hermione.

"Joke, Hermione, relax," he said, going into the cupboards to see what was available.

Hermione returned her attention to Draco. "You're going to have to take this potion for two days to keep the poison from taking effect. It was a special poison that can lie dormant in the blood for up to forty-eight hours. And you'll need to rest your arm a bit. Is there anything else wrong with you?"

Draco frowned and tried to remember what had happened; he really couldn't. Then he took an inventory of himself and found that his head was hurting a bit. "Uhm, my head? It's a little fuzzy, I think."

"Lean over, let me see," Hermione commanded. She hesitated, suddenly feeling quite shy, before putting her hands on Draco's head to feel his skull in order to make sure there were no bumps, scratches, or anything else amiss. Slowly she drew her fingers through his soft, fine hair, remembering all the times she'd wondered what it would feel like between her fingers.

It was the most amazing thing Draco had ever felt. No one but he had ever touched his hair, much less his head, and the way she ran her fingers through it, applying gentle pressure, made his brain even foggier. He felt himself relaxing and he yawned. Then suddenly there was a shooting pain in his head.

Hermione found something tiny lodged in the back of his head. "Oh, here's something," she said. She pushed his head down further to get a better look. Draco was now left staring at her feet. She was wearing a pair of old flip-flops and her nails were painted a subtle shade of pink. He frowned; he had never pictured Hermione as a pink girl. He was about to ask about it when he felt another stabbing pain.

"Got it," she said triumphantly, releasing his head. When he sat up to scowl at her, she held out a piece of crystal. "How's the fuzziness now?"

"Better. Thanks." He'd forgotten about the pink.

"Okay. So, rest for the next twenty-four hours, and then take it easy."

"But Hermione, we have to get back," protested Harry.

"Well, you'll have to wait." She turned to take over Harry's pitiful attempt at making dinner.

Draco gave Harry a significant look and he nodded.

Hermione managed to whip up a fantastic dinner which left the boys quite full and ready for an early bedtime. She fell asleep, quite content, on the porch swing.

The men were gone when she woke up and she mentally berated herself for not thinking that they might leave without her okay. Fear gripped her; Draco was not well enough for extensive traveling, magically or no, and was certainly in no condition to fight.

When she went into the kitchen, she noticed that Draco had taken a few vials of potion with him to fight the poison. The intense anxiety settled into an undercurrent of worry. She sighed. he was a smart man and knew what he was doing. She only hoped this wouldn't turn out to be a costly mistake.

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