The Sweetest Sin

Briseis: Am I still your captive?

Achilles: You are my guest

Briseis: In Troy, guests can leave whenever they want.

Achilles: You should leave, then.

Chapter 23: Running Away

Hermione stared blankly at Draco, his last words ringing in her head. "I have to set you free..."

"I know the spell to do it. Only your present owner can do it." The words tumbled out of Draco's mouth, mixed together and rushed, but somehow Hermione was able to understand them.

"A-are you sure?" stammered Hermione, hardly daring to believe her ears. "You could --"

"I know the consequences," interrupted Draco angrily. "I'm willing to risk them all...for you."

"But why me?"

"Because I love you, Hermione," he said forcefully, and she could see by the way colour seeped into his pale cheeks and his grey eyes took on an unfamiliar shine that he meant it. "I know I do. I love you so much that it hurts not being able to be with you, and I love you so much that I forget all my prejudices when I'm around you. You deserve more than me and I can't bring myself to control you anymore. I just want you to --"

Draco was interrupted by a crash from upstairs. His eyes widened as if he had been hit with a sudden realisation. "Hurry, lift up your sleeve."

"No -- wait -- why are you --"

"Do it!" ordered Draco. He drew his wand and pointed it at Hermione. "Do it now."

Her heart pounding fiercely against her chest, Hermione fumbled with the right sleeve of her robe. Her fingers slipped on the smooth fabric but she managed to pull it back enough to reveal the number imprinted in burnt red on her forearm -- 082189.

Draco pointed his wand down at the brand. Without hesitating, he began murmuring a series of incantations under his breath Hermione couldn't hear. The number began to glow orange and the skin surrounding it warmed up.

"What..." she started to say breathlessly, but Draco spoke up before she could finish her sentence.

"Eximo Servitus!" he hissed, pressing the tip of his wand against Hermione's skin and running it down the length of the mark. A sharp pain seared through Hermione's arm but before she could let out a cry, Draco had thrown his wand aside and brushed his hand over her burning skin.

Immediately, Hermione felt the pain disappear. She gasped and grabbed Draco's wrist. Could it be? Was she finally...free? It seemed to be good to be true; what if this was all a dream, or what if the spell had not been successful and the mark was still there? Yet though she was almost afraid to do it, she forced herself to look down.

The skin on her forearm was smooth and unmarred. There was no indication of any sort of imprintment having ever existed there. Hermione stared in disbelief at the spot where the number she had been forced to live with for so many years, years that had felt like eternity, had once disfigured her arm. As her mind slowly started to grasp the reality of the situation, a feeling unlike anything she could remember overwhelmed her -- like she was floating, or maybe even soaring. In any case, only one thing mattered: she was free.

"D-Draco..." she murmured, tearing her eyes away from her arm to where Draco was sitting. Then she started, for Draco was gone and instead of his wrist, her hand was now clutching at thin air.

-------

Hermione swept her wand in a wide arch in front of her and watched as the robes scattered around her room -- her only belongings -- flew up and neatly folded themselves in midair before landing with a soft thump at her feet.

Once they were all there, Hermione picked up the resulting bundle, pointed her wand at it, and said firmly, "Minuo minui minutum." In the blink of an eye, the robes had shrunk to roughly the size of a penny, and Hermione slid them into her pocket.

Now, she paused to reflect on everything that had happened in the past few days. It was so hard to believe that she had only been a servant of the Malfoys for a few short months. The events that had taken place while she was there, the things she had experienced...it was all mind-blowing.

And now I'm running away.

She had tried her best to convince Draco to change his mind about Thomas. There was nothing else she could do. It was not as if it were her duty to patch up the family. She had fulfilled her end of her promise to Pansy and attempted to convince Draco, and she had not succeeded.

Freedom...Hermione herself deserved it more than anything. And yet she couldn't help but feel more guilty than anything about leaving the family now. Yes, she had arrived there as a dirty Mudblood praying for an employer who would at least treat her decently but still wishing she was somewhere else, someone else. But...that was before she forged a friendship with Pansy. Before she learned that admitting her secret would not kill her. Before she met Kathryn and before she discovered that not everyone had become cruel and heartless. That was before she fell in love with the man she despised.

Draco. Hermione's heart skipped a beat every time the name entered her head. She subconsciously touched her fingertips to the spot where the number had been just half an hour ago. The feel of his fingers brushing against her skin after he completed the spell still lingered there. He had treated her so horribly and made her relive her worst nightmares. But at the same time...At the same time, Hermione could vividly remember the time he did not force her to confess her secrets when he could easily have done so with magic, the time he saved her from an almost certain death and risked his friendships with the other Death Eaters, the time he had led her to a room he'd never shared with anyone and poured out the broken pieces of his heart to her. And now he had freed her, something no other wizard in the world would do for Hermione.

"I must leave," she said out, her words resolute despite the tremble in her voice. "There is no hope for me if I stay here. I can't...I can't let my feelings get in the way."

"Are you leaving then?" came a kind voice from behind Hermione. She did not even need to turn around to know that the mirror had appeared to offer advice once again.

"Yes," whispered Hermione, her back still to the mirror. "Draco freed me."

"I always knew he would."

"You know so much."

"I do," said the mirror gently. "Turn around and look at me, dear."

Hermione did so. There was the familiar face, the understanding eyes and smiling mouth carved out of the glass surface of the mirror. It locked its eyes with Hermione's as it said, "You're aware that your absence might bring the family to the edge of disaster?"

Hermione pursed her lips and replied, "What do you mean?"

"Everyone here has changed because of you. Pansy has come to terms with the fact that she will be able to exist when Draco is gone, Kathryn has finally found a motherly figure she can connect with, even Thomas has changed. And Draco...you've saved him from himself. After Iris, I didn't think he would ever recover. But you've nearly pieced him together. He loves you so much, Hermione." The mirror let out what sounded like a cross between a sigh and a sniffle.

"I...I love him too," whispered Hermione and with a jolt she realised she meant it. She did love him. "But you must understand that --"

"There are some things that even I don't understand," interrupted the mirror. "Alas, a love between two people is something that can only be comprehended by those who feel it. I can only observe and relay my observations to you."

"So you don't think I should leave?" asked Hermione desperately.

The mirror's brows shot up and it quickly said, "Oh no! No, that's not at all what I think. But the choice you have laid out in front of you now is more complex than you think. Will you choose to desert those you have come to love, Draco in particular? Can you bring yourself to leave him now? Or will you choose your own freedom, the freedom to save yourself and many other Muggle-born and half-blood slaves?"

"You're making this sound more difficult than it is," said Hermione despairingly.

"Not everything in this world will always be black and white," responded the mirror. To Hermione's surprise, a glass tear slipped down its cheek. "Whichever path you choose to take, Hermione, I know you will choose the right one. But now, it's time for me to leave. Good luck."

Before Hermione could object, the face disappeared, leaving behind nothing but a few ripples in the glass which soon faded away as well. Dismayed, Hermione turned away and began to climb up the stairs. She had made her decision, nothing was going to change that; therefore, if she was going to leave Malfoy Manor, it would be easiest for her to do so now while night enveloped the grounds and the main hall was crowded with visitors -- so crowded, in fact, that she hopefully told herself that running into Blaise would be nearly impossible -- who would not recognise her as a servant due to her attire.

When Hermione emerged from her room onto the main floor, she was relieved to find that none of the guests nearby seemed to pay any attention to her. Her eyes quickly scanned the crowd for Draco, and she found him quite easily: He was casually leaning against the staircase at the other end of the hall, wearing a black dress robe. From what Hermione could see, he appeared to be waiting for someone. Her heart gave a violent lurch when she saw him; he looked so handsome, yet so lonely. She wanted to run up to him, to kiss him and hold onto him and never have to leave, but she restrained herself and started to weave through the groups of witches and wizards in expensive, perfumed dress robes to the entrance doors.

As Hermione neared the doors, it occurred to her that it would be extremely difficult to get through them. There were witches and wizards leaving and entering in a steady flow; yes, they would obviously help to obscure her escape; but the doors also lay straight in Draco's line of vision. He would inevitably see her if she tried to pass through the main doors.

Thus, Hermione turned away in frustration and tried to devise another way out. Her eyes scanned the perimetre of the hall, and as they flickered past the kitchen doors, it came to her -- there was a small back door located in the kitchens; she could leave through it. But how to make her way across the dining room to get to the kitchen?

Taking a deep breath, Hermione decided the only way to go at it was to push her way across the hall, pass through the dining room, then leave via the kitchen, all the while attempting to remain as unnoticed as possible. It was risky and, Hermione thought grimly, not at all appealing of an idea, but she couldn't wait the entire night. Therefore, after shutting her eyes tightly and a muttering few furious prayers that she would not run into Pansy, Blaise, or any other Death Eaters she knew, Hermione set off, resisting the urge to cast one last glance over her shoulder at Draco, for she had to stay focused.

It took her several minutes to weave through the throng of elegantly-dressed witches and wizards, but when Hermione opened the door to the dining area, she was rewarded with a dark and empty room. Letting out a sharp breath of relief, she quickly ran over to the door leading to the kitchen, pushed it open, then proceeded to cross the deserted kitchen and exit through the service door at the back of it.

Once outside, Hermione paused for a moment. The evening air was refreshing and cool against her skin and the uncomfortable feeling of being surrounded by strangers diminished immediately. The low chirping of crickets was a soothing replacement for the loud buzzing of many people talking at once. Hermione looked up and saw to her delight that the full moon and midnight-black sky were unmarred by clouds.

Just as Hermione was about to turn around and start trying to devise to leave the grounds of Malfoy Manor, she noticed out of the corner of her eye a two shadowy figures striding across the garden, which lay opposite the direction she had been about to head off in. One of the figures was a stout, cloaked man and his colleague was -- no, it couldn't be...but the hair...the way he moved...Hermione's eyes widened. What was Draco doing out in the garden with this stranger?

Hermione's previous decision to leave immediately flew out of her mind. Her uncertainty and curiosity had surfaced, and she now began to walk in the opposite direction, following Draco's tracks. As she did, thoughts flew around wildly in her head, colliding and merging at random.

Why was Draco not inside? Who was this man? This meeting had obviously been prearranged, for Draco had seemed to be waiting for the man's appearance, but why was it taking place while everyone was in the manor?

By now, Hermione had arrived in the garden. Taking a deep breath, she drew her wand and began to cautiously walk down the narrow dirt path with her wand held out in front of her. Thankfully, she didn't need to use the wand light to guide her, for the moonlight filtering in through the canopy of leaves overhead was just enough to light Hermione's way.

Why she was doing this, Hermione had no idea. I'm free now, she thought, trying to convince herself to turn back, I should be leaving, not trying to interfere with Draco's business again.

Deep inside, though, Hermione knew the real reason: it was because she cared. She cared about Draco, whether or not she could accept it, and she cared about his safety. And right now, the fact that he's wandering off into the garden with a mysterious cloaked man in the middle of night doesn't really help to still my worries.

Nevertheless, after many unsuccessful trips back and forth through the small stretch of woods at the back of the garden, Hermione was finally forced to admit to herself that neither Draco nor his companion were there. Relieved that she could now give up her search and still satisfy her conscience, Hermione began to make her way back to the manor.

However, just as Hermione was leaving the woods, she heard low voices coming from the direction of the pond. Half-excited and half-dismayed, Hermione followed the voices until she reached the shore of the pond. For a moment, she simply stood there, stunned at what she was witnessing. Then, her senses returned and she quickly darted into the shadows cast by a tall willow to watch in disbelief the scene before her unfold.