The Sweetest Sin

And I don't want the world to see me

Cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming

Or the moment of truth in your lies

When everything feels like the movies

Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive

Chapter 21: Written In The Flames

"Hermione?"

Hermione's body went rigid. Though her back was to the door, she knew that her visitor was Draco. She also knew that she was holding her newly-acquired wand out in her hand (Hermione had spent a good portion of the evening attempting to perform some of the more complicated spells she could still remember from Hogwarts, but had made little progress) and that if Draco took another step forward, he would surely catch sight of it.

Hastily, she stuffed the wand into her pocket as she turned around, praying that he hadn't seen what she just did. "Yes?" she asked, her voice higher than usual. She tried to make up an excuse for her flushed cheeks by saying, "I just finished dressing."

Draco nodded. Thankfully, he appeared to be too distracted to take notice of Hermione's obviously guilty behaviour as he approached her with his hand held out. For a split second, Hermione thought that he had in fact seen her with the wand and was now asking for it back but then he said evenly, "Have you finished putting Thomas and Kathryn in bed?"

"Yes," said Hermione again, her voice a little steadier now that she was sure Draco was paying no attention to the guilty expression on her face. "They're asleep, I think."

"Then come with me. There's something I want you to see."

Hermione blinked, but Draco had already taken hold of her hand and was tugging at her insistently to follow. She obeyed. "Where are you taking me?" she asked as they climbed up the dusty stone steps leading to the first floor and started walking towards the main staircases.

Draco did not answer, and instead remained stony-faced as he started to take the steps two at a time.

"Where are we going?" she repeated when Draco did not stop on the second floor and instead continued up the stairs leading up to the third floor.

"I want to show you something," he said bluntly.

"I know that," replied Hermione in annoyance as she hurried to keep up with his brisk pace. "You've told me that several times already, thanks."

"And you've asked me where we're going just as many times," he snapped. "Be patient, we're nearly there."

Hermione fell into silence as she trailed after Draco up the remainder of the steps. When they reached the third floor, he began striding without hesitation down the hallway on his right. His eyes scanned the walls as if searching for something; at last, he seemed to find what he was looking for and stopped in front of the tapestry of the two dragons.

"I thought -- I thought this floor was off-limits to me," said Hermione nervously, trying to act as if she had never seen the elaborately-woven rugs around her before. Draco, however, paid no attention to her and instead gazed intently at the tapestry. After a while, he reached out and pushed the little knob Hermione had long ago found to be the activator of the secret doorway.

Sure enough, the tapestry suddenly unravelled with a muffled whoosh to reveal the entrance to the hidden room. Without saying a word, Draco grabbed Hermione's forearm tightly and pulled her through the loose strands of wool that hung over the entranceway. Once they had stepped inside, the wall immediately faded back into view behind them, leaving behind no evidence that it not been there just seconds ago.

"You are the first person I've ever brought here," said Draco grimly, finally breaking the silence between them.

Hermione swallowed and nodded. She tried to say something, but the words lost themselves on her tongue and she settled for staring at the paintings and statues around her with a feigned expression of astonishment and curiosity.

"Those are all of Iris," explained Draco.

"But why?" asked Hermione, voicing the question that had been hovering on the tip of her tongue since she had discovered the hidden room. "Why did you hide all of this...stuff here?"

Draco sighed and began wandering slowly around the room, letting his gaze wander from one portrait to another. A muscle in his cheek twitched when he passed by the painting of Iris Hermione had stopped to examine, but he moved on. A minute or so passed before he finally spoke up.

"I couldn't bear to be reminded of her everyday. It was so hard for me to look at her after she was gone, but at the same time, I couldn't bring myself to throw all of this away. They were the only remnants that remained from the single positive part of my life. I had my memories, but those weren't enough. Removing these depictions of Iris from my life completely would have been like taking the warmth from a fire and leaving only the light."

Draco paused briefly next to a marble carving of Iris holding her wand out as if ready to perform a spell. He ran his fingers lightly over her shoulder, grimaced, then continued.

"I hid this room because I didn't want anyone else happening across it. In a way, it was a selfish thing to do. I didn't want to share her. I didn't want anyone else corrupting the purity I could still see in these portraits. She was mine and mine only, even though she was physically gone from my life."

Hermione watched in silence as Draco clenched his fists and bowed his head. He remained that way for several minutes before he finally straightened up again, pushed the hair away from his face, and resumed his strolling around the room. This time, though, he seemed to be paying less attention to the pieces of art around him. His eyes were instead fixed on Hermione.

"You know," said Draco quietly as he began to head back to where Hermione stood by the hidden entranceway, "Iris was the goddess of both the rainbow and emotions in Greek mythology." He stopped in front of Hermione and laughed softly at the look of surprise on her face. "Yes, I'm well-acquainted with Greek mythology. I'm actually quite fascinated with it. I've never read any of that Muggle bullshit about the Trojan War or Odysseus' journey; I'm not interested in false tales that try to glorify undeserving humans of the time. No, it's the gods that intrigue me.

"Iris was the goddess Hera's messenger. She would travel over the rainbow to bring messages from the rulers of the Gods, Zeus and Hera, to men. She also brought the souls of mortal women who had died to the Elysian fields where she planted an iris on every grave. Interestingly enough, the Iris I knew served the same role for the Dark Lord: She delivered messages between the inner and outer ranks of Death Eaters during the war, because any and every form of magical communication could be intercepted at that time.

"It is interesting that the Dark Lord trusted her so much, because he didn't even trust her brother, Blaise, enough to admit him as a Death Eater. But his trust ended up poorly appointed, for Iris betrayed us and fed information to someone on the other side -- oh yes, for the first time, the Dark Lord made a mistake."

Draco stopped and let out a harsh, emotionless laugh. His features were contorted into a bitter expression that made it appear as though he were chewing on something that tasted very foul. "Well, you can imagine what happened then," he finished.

"So...so that's why she died?"

"That's why she died. The Dark Lord doesn't like being betrayed. And in a way, I understand where he came from." Draco shot Hermione a piercing look. "Betrayal, especially by someone so trusted, is the worst of all human crimes."

Draco sighed again, then said softly, "But she brought colour to my life. Everything for me had always been black and white...I could either follow my father's dream and become a Death Eater or go over to the other side. I could either complete the Dark Lord's task or hand my family over to him. I could either do this or that. Everyday, it was the same, and I always chose black because it was the easier route to take. Iris came along and complicated my world. She gave me so many more choices."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Draco spoke before she could say anything. "Come with me. I didn't bring you up here to tell you stories; like I said, I have something I wanted to show you."

She obeyed and allowed him to take her elbow and lead her over to the giant glass snake in the centre of the room. When they arrived at it, Draco let go of Hermione and pressed his palm to the surface of the glass. Though no change came over the flame flickering in the core of the carving, Draco stared, transfixed, at it for quite a while before he said, "Do what I'm doing."

"You mean --"

"Just do it," he said impatiently. Then, as if he were too impatient to wait for Hermione to follow his orders, he took hold of Hermione's wrist with his free hand and placed her palm against the snake.

The response from the flame was so unexpectedly strong that Hermione almost pulled her hand away in shock. It had burst into life, filling up the entire inside of the statue right to the very tip of its forked tongue with emerald green fire, the moment Hermione's skin made contact with the glass. The reaction was very similar to what had happened the last time Hermione touched the carving, except much more intense.

"What is this?" gasped Hermione.

"Something I gave Iris as a gift a long while back," replied Draco quietly, studying the carving intently. "My father gave it to me, and he got it from the Dark Lord himself as a reward for completing a difficult task assigned to him many years before I was born. When I received it, it was much smaller, but I had it enlarged to this size. Iris and I both found the flames" -- he gestured at the snake -- "much more satisfying when they were ten times taller and stronger."

"But what is it?"

"I can't tell you exactly, because I don't know. Its made of magic much more powerful than anything I know of. I do know, though, that it's purpose is to indicate the unity of two souls or something of the sort. If the flame turns yellow, it means two souls that were once together have been split apart. If the flame turns blue, it means two souls that have never been together make each other whole. Most of the time, though, it doesn't do anything because finding two souls that are made for each other in some way is like trying to search for two identical grains of sand: It's nearly impossible."

"And green?"

"I don't know."

"What did Voldemort use it for?" asked Hermione, though she was almost certain she knew the answer.

"Nothing that is any concern of yours," said Draco sharply, "and nothing you would understand."

"Actually," retorted Hermione, her temper flaring up, "I think I know."

Draco laughed. "I doubt it," he scoffed. "It's dark magic."

"Oh? Then I suppose it wouldn't hurt for me to ask...This doesn't, by any chance, happen to do with his Horcuxes?"

The smirk on Draco's face quickly slid off. "Where did you hear about that?" he asked slowly, turning to look at her.

"Being the friend of Harry Potter did have some of its quirks," she said with an empty laugh before fixing her gaze on the glass carving again. "My guess would be that Voldemort --"

"Don't speak his name," hissed Draco.

"-- used this to verify whether or not each of his attempts to create a Horcrux were successful. And why don't you want me to speak his name? I would have thought that now that he's considered a hero by most of your kind, there would no longer be reason to fear him."

"He is my lord, and I wouldn't be worthy to say his name. You," he added, looking at Hermione with a mixture of fear and anger, "you aren't good enough to kiss the filth off of his shoes." His voice shook as he added, "I don't know where you draw the courage to dare speak his name when so many people would have you punished for doing it."

"Because I'm not afraid of any sort of punishment you can inflict on me," she answered truthfully, not fazed one bit by Draco's sudden mood shifts for she had gotten used to their occurrences by now. "I once was, but now I have nothing to lose." Draco did not reply, so Hermione took the opportunity and changed the subject. "So what do you think green means? It has to mean something...everything has a purpose."

"I don't know," he said again after a short pause. He pulled his hand away, and instantly the fire died down. "I don't think it's the colour that matters anyway, it's the fact that...we're connected somehow." He looked away before saying, "But we've stayed up here long enough, it's time to leave."

Draco took Hermione's hand and withdrew it from the glass surface. Instead of letting it go though, he continued to hold it as he pulled her away from the snake and to the hidden entrance. In a matter of seconds, he had found the knob and pulled it. The wall faded away, and the two of them stepped through the unravelled threads of the tapestry.

When they were both safely on the other side, Draco spoke up. "There's something I have to ask you. Have you...have you ever done magic? In this house?"

"No," replied Hermione hurriedly, her heart sinking. Realising she was clutching Draco's hand in a death grip, she relaxed her hold and added as calmly as she could manage, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Draco stared at her. His eyes were narrowed and he looked as though he were contemplating the truth behind her words. At last, he said stiffly, "Good. Because if you had..."

Hermione bit down on the tip of her tongue and felt the taste of blood flood her mouth. "You'd have to kill me," she finished quietly, unconsciously sliding her free hand into her robe pocket and closing her fingers tightly around the smooth handle of the stolen wand hidden there.