Unbidden Love Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven: Draco’s Sacrifice

Hermione was still coughing and choking on smoke and ash after Disapparating with Malfoy to a new location. (Even with eyes closed, it was impossible to dismiss the terrible, crushing sensation of Apparation for anything else). Her eyes were welled shut against the painful stinging, and even when she felt her feet touch the ground, she couldn’t pry them open.

But before she could even think about what her options were, an icy wave of cold water was thrown against her blistering face, and she screeched in surprise.

“Hold still Granger; I have to get the ash out of your eyes…”

Hermione struggled in his arms, but Malfoy was quite a bit stronger than her and soon had successfully doused her face and eyes with lake water.

Lake water! Yes, that’s what it tasted like; it was certainly not salt water. Which meant…

She forced her eyes open with some effort, but most of the ash had been removed and they no longer stung fiercely. She shivered compulsively as she peered out at the wide, open expanse of water in front of her. Yes, it was a lake – they were both kneeling at the edge of the calm water, with pine trees and oaks dotting the borders. She didn’t know what she looked like to him as she turned to face her captor, but she assumed – by the Draco-ish sneer on his pale lips – that she looked quite similar to a drowned rat.

She felt drowned – the pompous jerk had not only made sure that her face was properly “cleaned” but that her entire body was given a good soaking. The wind seemed to have dropped thirty degrees as it whipped over her wet clothes and stung her skin like needles.

“You…” Hermione’s voice broke as she struggled to form words. The smoke had burned her throat. “You have no idea what you have just done!”

Malfoy snorted as he stood and turned to study their new surroundings. He put his hands in his pockets and looked so relaxed that he could have been surveying his new holiday destination. “Life lesson number one, Granger: don’t form conclusions until you know all the facts.”

Her teeth chattered as her jaw tensed in anger. She rose slowly to his level, slightly startled to realize that not one part of her body had been burned. She had been sure that the fire had started to consume her at the Burrow.

But that made no difference now. Even if her whole body had been brunt to a crisp, she was still stuck in the middle of the woods, alone – again! – with Draco Malfoy.

“Please,” she moaned, hoping she didn’t sound too desperate. “Please tell me why you’re doing this. Your adolescent antics have gone too far; now you’re pushing on the dangerous. Just…just tell me what you’re after, and I can…”

She didn’t know how to continue, for her mind had caught up with her free flowing words. She knew what he was after, and both of them knew that she literally couldn’t help him in any way.

Like I want to help him, anyway! she thought angrily. He’s caused all of us nothing but grief! This has gone far beyond his name-calling and bullying at Hogwarts. He’s actually acting like a Death Eater now.

That thought made her shiver.

Malfoy had lost his sneer awhile ago. All traces of emotion had left his face, making him look strangely pale and empty. Hermione wished she had studied Legilimancy.

“I know what you’re thinking, Granger, and you’d be doing me a huge favour if you’d keep your sanctimonious thoughts to yourself.”

She bristled at that, but he ignored her reaction.

“Let’s just get one thing straight first, okay?” His voice was suddenly weary, like he had spoken these words too many times. “The only thing we’re both aware of is that you and Potter buried the Elder Wand and all of you made the Vow to protect it. So, you’re obviously not going to give up the location whatever I do.”

Hermione remained silent, wrapping her arms around herself to create some warmth as she tried to process Malfoy’s words.

“What you don’t know is that there is only a certain amount of time left before the Neo-Death Eaters take you for good. Once they capture you, your death is inevitable. They’ll either torture you until you die, or you’ll give them the location, which will lead to your death anyway.”

He spoke the words too cavalierly, but Hermione was careful enough to catch some despondency in his voice. It sounded like the thought of her death was uncomfortable for him, even horrific.

But she must have read too much into it.

Hermione shook her head slowly, unable to feel anything except the cold numbing her body. Everything else she blocked out. “Malfoy, that grand pronouncement doesn’t surprise me much. What does surprise me is that you’re speaking of the Neo-Death Eaters like they’re a group outside of you, that you’re not involved in their activities. Do me a favour and stop making such an obvious lie!”

Almost instantly after she had spoken, Malfoy’s shoulders slumped and he buried his face in his hands, like he had lost it and had to collect himself.

Hermione’s eyes widened in shock. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing; it was like she was watching a different person!

For the first time ever, Draco Malfoy had showed a sign of weakness in front of her.

After a moment, Draco looked up with eyes glazed over with some strange emotion, and studied her with the utmost seriousness.

“We need to talk, Granger. You’d be wise to follow me – there are no Apparition points in these woods. I made sure of that.”

She was torn between screaming out in frustration and anger or letting the newly created emotions – shock and curiosity – grip her and make her follow Malfoy without a single word or complaint.

She took the latter, not letting herself think too hard as she followed Malfoy over a small mound of grass to a large clearing. A small, old-fashioned log cabin stood alone and abandoned in the open space, but Hermione thought she saw smoke filtering through the tiny rock chimney on the roof.

Malfoy turned to her with a small smile. “Welcome to your new home, Granger.”

*

Hermione had been wrong about the abandonment part. Once entering through the one-floor cabin, she found the inside strangely homey and appealing.

A small, round wood table (with four oak chairs) took up the middle of the cabin. An oversize fireplace was placed into the far wall, and a large, roaring fire was already crackling when Hermione entered. A lone twin bed rested against the opposite wall, its sheets full of holes and uncomfortably thin.

Next to the table was a rusted tub with spout, which Hermione figured was the only way to access water in the cabin.

Hermione was distracted for awhile as Malfoy grabbed a kettle from the floor and filled it with water from the spout. He then placed it on a ring which hovered above the fire, and Hermione was almost humoured by this.Strange, she couldn’t help thinking. I had never thought Malfoy knew how to do anything for himself.

Malfoy noticed her stare and narrowed his eyes. “What, never seen tea made the original way, Granger?”

Hermione shrugged self-consciously, breaking eye contact and sitting down at the table. She waited silently as Malfoy poured both her and himself a cup of herbal tea in two chipped, white tea cups. Hermione didn’t want to ask him how long the cups had been sitting, unwashed, in the old log cabin, so instead she took a hesitant sip and peered up at him expectantly.

“So?”

Malfoy’s brow lowered in contempt. “Don’t push me, Granger, or else you’ll be trapped here alone and ignorant for a very long time.”

Hermione pursed her lips, looking away to study the fire. She snuck glances at Malfoy to see him rubbing his temples wearily, his eyes closed in either concentration or annoyance. When he finally began to speak, he didn’t meet Hermione’s eye.

“My father had been waiting to strike back at Potter and the Ministry for many months after the Dark Lord’s fall. He tried to keep our family out of the way; we hid quietly while the world worshipped Potter for his heroic, unselfish undertaking.” He grimaced with these words, obviously in opposition to Harry Potter still being labeled ‘The Chosen One.’ “During our time in almost complete isolation, Father had been busy rallying up any wizard who still believed in a Pureblood world. Because I was young and energetic, Father and Mother both appointed me as the Head of the Neo-Death Eaters…a position I, quite frankly, was not eager to accept.”

Hermione’s eyes widened slightly at this, and Malfoy turned back to her, his face once again devoid of emotion. “Yes, believe it or not, Granger, I was not willing to sacrifice my life to assist in Father’s campaign. I knew how many were against us, and how far we would have to go to even start to be taken seriously in the wizarding world.”

Hermione frowned, something in his voice creating doubt in her mind. It sounded to her like there were other reasons for why Malfoy didn’t want to lead the Neo-Death Eaters, but he wasn’t going to speak of them.

“But you took the post anyway,” Hermione reminded him, hoping he would allow her to interrupt.
Malfoy chuckled humourlessly. “Yes, I did, but that was out of blackmail more than anything else…Which I am not about to explain to you!” he added with disapproval. She must have looked eager at that point. “Anyway, I did all that Father asked me to do, but I did it begrudgingly, because I felt the entire affair both too radical and reckless for this day. There was not one person in the wizarding world, I believed, who would support our cause because of how much devastation and destruction the Dark Lord reaped. So I did minor tasks for the cult, but I was not involved in the Muggle torturings and break-ins because I do have some personal morals I adhere to.”

Hermione looked down, for Malfoy had passed her a judging look then. She wasn’t sure if she could believe him, but his words were too practical, too honest to not take seriously. She really had no choice but to believe he spoke the truth.

“But you did gain followers,” Hermione interjected once again, fooling with the handle of her mug with eyes lowered. “Many, as it would seem. And your father still pushed the cult? I mean, the idea of the Neo-Death Eaters didn’t fall out. Your lot continued to create terror in the wizarding world, with you in the lead.”

Malfoy’s eyebrows had sunk low over his pale grey eyes. “Who’s narrating this story again, Granger?”

“Sorry,” she mumbled, taking another sip of tea to give herself something to do.

Malfoy groaned. “I’ll never get to the point if you keep sticking in your little comments. But anyway…yes, to the world I was the cause of it all, but inside the organization…” He hesitated, and Hermione glanced up to find him staring hard at the wall behind her. His eyes were deep and thoughtful, and she didn’t dare interrupt him this time. “Inside the organization, I had very little input. My father wanted me as the poster boy, so to speak, so that he didn’t have to be. He figured that if the rest of England discovered that Lucius Malfoy was organizing some sort of resistance, it wouldn’t amount to much. He’s getting older, you see, and some people believe he doesn’t have the power – magically or politically – to create much of anything. But if I were the Head…some fear might spread with the news. I’m young and strong, and even if my powers don’t supposedly match up to the magic of The Boy Who Lived…” He grunted with disgust. “People may still believe I could lead something; something that could resist the Ministry. That’s what my parents believe, anyway, and I had no choice but to obey their orders. I’ve never had many choices in my life.”

The last part was more murmured than spoken, causing Hermione to strain to hear him, though he sat only opposite her at the small table. His words stirred a foreign emotion in her – pity. She didn’t know if he had used his powers of speech to create false emotions in her, but right then she somehow felt like he deserved sympathy. He spoke like the whole Neo-Death Eaters cult had not been of his doing, and he had been unwillingly dragged along…

Hermione found herself laughing, softly at first and then strengthening in volume. She spoke her first thoughts aloud. “Rubbish! Complete rubbish, Draco Malfoy. Do you think I am that daft to believe that you’re some helpless, innocent lad who was forced to create a dangerous organization with his domineering father? Oh Draco, that is…”

She couldn’t say any more, because without warning Malfoy’s thoughtful, still face had vanished and been replaced with rage. His whole face tensed up, and with a quick, powerful motion, he reached across the table and clamped his hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened with alarm, her heart jumping in her chest, but she was too shocked to try to pull back.

“I suspected you might say as much, which is why I hesitated for days before bringing you here,” he hissed, half of his body splayed out across the table as he leaned closer to her with furious eyes. “I don’t know how else to make you believe than by cursing you, but that would obviously lessen your trust in me. That’s why I took a risk and decided to tell you the truth; tell you about a part of myself I’ve never shared with anyone else. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised…what reasons do you have for trusting that these words may be the truth when I lie as often as I breathe? No, I am not that stupid, Granger, but now you’re pushing me too far. Keep going and I may reach for my wand.”

He had removed his hand long ago, but only because it was no longer necessary. Hermione’s mouth was hanging halfway open as she stared, unblinkingly, at the boy who had changed masks more than three times in front of her that day.

Draco was right; she didn’t know whether to trust him. But the simple fact that he spoke so…freely, almost without thinking first, made her rethink her accusations.

Hermione thought about it slowly and carefully as Draco waited patiently for her to speak. What if, for some ungodly reason, Draco Malfoy had decided to speak the truth to his childhood enemy? What would he say, and what would the truth sound like? What would make her ponder over whether he was lying or not? How were his actions now different than others of his through out the years they had known – and loathed – each other?

That last question was the easiest to answer, surprisingly. By the lake, he had shown weakness to her. He had shown a vulnerable side of himself that, more than likely, he had never presented to any other rival. He had not kidnapped her to a cold cell like before, where she would starve and never bathe. He had brought her to a place of reasonable comfort, a place that visibly seemed to be the exact opposite of the stereotypical location a captor would bring his victim. It was a peaceful, almost beautiful setting, indeed…

She hung her head, rubbing her forehead like Malfoy had done only minutes before. Not only had Draco not disposed of her in another cell, but he had sat her down, given her tea, and begun to talk to her like a friend trying to explain something very difficult.

That was it. She had just answered all of her own questions.

Hermione’s jaw dropped lower, and her expression must have looked rather humourous because Malfoy smirked a little.

“Dare I continue?” he asked with a distinctive drawl.

Hermione nodded slowly, wishing he would give her more time to think it through.

“I have fooled many, Hermione Granger.” His tone had lightened considerably, and she knew it was because she was no longer glaring at him with distrust. “My parents, as well as the other scoundrels working with them, believe me to have my priorities straight but to also be…hesitant. I keep telling them over and over that I will not act among them until I know we’re fighting directly toward our goal – the Elder Wand. They bought that story easily. But I cannot hide my true feelings for long. I’m supposed to torture you, Granger, until you comply. But since that means death, I dare not touch you.”

He watched her expression carefully, but her face had frozen into one of complete shock. She was processing his words, but she didn’t yet know how to respond.

“So this is the only option for the moment,” he finished almost lazily, motioning to the cabin around them with a circling hand. “The theatrical display of capture I performed for your mates earlier only strengthens my story. Now everyone believes that I’ve kidnapped you once again to finally get answers out of you. Your capture will spread to the Neo-Death Eaters, who will believe I’m torturing you senseless for days on end. In truth, we’ll only be surviving out here in this bloody nothingness until I come up with a new plan.”

Hermione’s face finally broke out of its frozen state, and she opened her mouth to ask the next obvious question, but Draco sighed wearily and shook his head.

“No, I don’t yet know what that plan will be. But I thought if we’re difficult to find, that’ll buy us more time.”

He was finished, this was made obvious by the way he suddenly looked uncomfortable and drank from his mug that he had not touched before. And so they sat in the most unpleasant silence Hermione had ever experienced, but finally she mustered the courage to speak the words she thought she’d never in a million centuries utter to the pale boy sitting in front of her.

“Thank you. Thank you for…for your courage to do the right thing. I hate to say it, but my life is in your hands and you’re not…throwing it away.”

Draco smiled, and for the first time it was not a sneer or a self-righteous smirk. It was a genuine smile, one of kindness, though he obviously did it hesitantly.

“You’re welcome,” was all he muttered in reply.