Enchanted

Enchanted Chapter 11: "A Spoonful of Sugar Helps the Medicine Go Down"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"So he's a kidnapper-turned-savior-slash-love-interest? Sounds like a Muggle Made for TV Movie to me," said Elizabeth as she leaned against Ron's shoulder in the waiting room of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Ron gave Elizabeth a slightly baffled look, and then returned to his previous state of brooding. He repeatedly intoned "Such rubbish, all of it," quietly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Only Elizabeth could so artfully twist her complicated life into some sort of dramatic story plot. Hermione chanced a glance at Harry. He leaned against the opposite wall, oddly silent. Only Ginny had spoken with him, albeit briefly, before heading to the tea room. He looked angry. Very angry. In fact, he appeared enraged enough to bring about chaos and pandemonium by only exerting a small amount of his built-up fury His normally ruffled hair was now completely in disarray; he appeared as if he had not caught a decent night's sleep in a long time. I suppose none of us have, she pondered mentally. I feel awful about everything. They all look so tired--they've all been worried sick, no doubt. Harry appears worst of them all. He's reverting back to that shell of explosive rage he was prone to back during our last few years at Hogwarts. Hermione sighed, deciding that it would be best to try to speak with Harry before he fell past the point of rational thought.

"Harry?" she asked softly, approaching him tentatively.

He eyed her wearily.

"Harry, I know you're upset and I'm so sorry for any confusion; but it's not like I planned this."

"I realize that, Hermione," he admitted gruffly. "I know you didn't ask to be kidnapped. But what I'm mad about is--"

"That you lied to us for so long!" interjected Ron.

"She couldn't tell you about her job! It was top secret!" cried Elizabeth, jumping to Hermione's defense.

"I know that," Ron replied heatedly. "I'm referring to this whole fiasco with Malfoy."

Elizabeth muttered a soft "Oh."

"Exactly. Why didn't you tell us about Malfoy stalking you?" asked Harry.

"Honestly, I don't know myself why I didn't tell you. I guess I was so confused; how could I tell you when I couldn't make sense of it myself?" Hermione replied, sinking into a chair. "But the truth is Draco is not the same person anymore. I'm not positive about which side he's on now...But I think he realizes Lucius was wrong; I think some part of Draco's known that for sometime now."

"How do you know? What's your proof?" Ron demanded stubbornly.

"Although he was my kidnapper, he treated me humanely. He even stopped his father from strangling me," said Hermione thoughtfully, a pained expression filtering across her face upon recalling the feel of asphyxiation. "He took me away to France; he never really explained and I just assumed there was some plan to hand me over Voldemort there...But it wasn't...I think even a small part of me knew that wasn't why...The truth is, even in the crazy round-about way he did it, Draco saved my life."

The four sat in silence, unsure how to proceed from there. Elizabeth shifted her position to slip her arms about Ron's middle. Ron absent-mindedly played with her short, blonde tendrils, his face set. Ginny returned with two saucers, handing one to Harry. He accepted it in silence--the way his eyes seemed to soften as they fell upon Ginny's form did not escape Hermione's observations. This is definitely a point of interest, she internally mused.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione raised her head to meet the voice of a middle-aged man rather stout in embonpoint. He wore thick lenses and had a balding spot atop his head, encircled by graying wisps of brown. Small spots of yellow stained the ordinarily starch-white robes of the St. Mungo's Healers. The short man pushed back his glasses, squinting as he perused the chart held in his stubby fingers.

"I am Healer Herman Stodgkiss, I saw to Mr. Malfoy's case," began the stout man in a voice that made him sound as if he had a particularly nasty head cold. "Mr. Malfoy sustained a very deep cut to his left side. He's been properly bandaged, but, due to the severity of the cut and amount of blood lost, he will need to remain her for at least a week. Mr. Malfoy is currently taking six different potions to heal the injury, not to mention the numerous layers of internal damage. Whoever cast that spell wasn't going for a gaping wound; from the looks of it Mr. Malfoy is lucky to not have died. A few extra moments and there might not have been much we could do for him."

Hermione nodded politely; she had expected such a report. "Thank you Healer Stodgkiss. Are you permitting visitors at the moment?"

"Mr. Malfoy undoubtedly needs his rest, but I suppose one quick visit from his girlfriend won't hurt him," the Healer acquiesced.

"But I'm not--" Hermione started to correct the Healer, but gave up when he turned and headed off down an adjoining hall.

Hermione chanced a glance at the others. Ron and Elizabeth were conversing in low tones. Ron's fingers traced circles on Elizabeth's hand over and over again, relaying intimate signals that Hermione was not privy to. Hermione felt privately glad both had found someone to be happy with. Harry had given into the temptation of tiredness and decided to sit next to Ginny on the plastic couch, contenting himself with swirling his tea and sneaking glances at her when he thought the red-head preoccupied. Hermione smiled to herself--Ginny was well aware of these furtive looks and, to Hermione's amusement, was eagerly wallowing in the attention from her childhood crush. Deciding no friend would suffer want of her company, Hermione pushed the door open that lead to Draco Malfoy's hospital bed.

His normally pallid complexion had gone a shade or two paler, almost to the point of a ghost pearl, giving his countenance a strangely ethereal coloring that Hermione found fascinating. Strands of blonde hair were askew over his forehead, beads of sweat sticking them in odd angles; but somehow the coiffure almost looked tastefully done, like one of those Muggle hair stylists had attacked his gold locks with hair gel. Only Draco Malfoy could manage looking impeccable after being in the throes of death. He had been dressed in a set of standard pajamas, made of white linen. The top four buttons were left undone, exposing the smooth flesh of his long neck, lean chest and a glimpse of the bandage wrapped around his torso. Hermione watched as his chest rose and fell with each breath he took, amazed that no less than an hour ago he, she, they were locked in a battle for their lives, to protect a secret that possessed the potential to save other lives.

Not wanting to wake the sleeping dragon, Hermione carefully sat next to the bed on a folding chair, her mind mulling through recent events as her eyes wandered over the contours of his face.

"Made speechless by my good looks, Granger?" whispered Draco in a gruff voice.

Hermione jumped, startled. "Oh! I didn't realize you were awake. How do you feel?"

"I've been better."

"Healer Stodgkiss said you...that you..." Hermione could not bring herself to say it.

"I know," Draco said passively. They sat in a sodden silence.

"Well, now you've got me all to yourself and unable to run. What do you plan to do with me?" he inquired saucily, attempting to lighten the atmosphere.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I believe you were in a similar predicament not too long ago and I was able to restrain myself."

"Now, now. Don't hold back on account of the delicate injury. Just so long as I'm on top and you watch your hands I--"

"Draco!" Hermione shrieked, horrified. A crimson blush stained her cheeks.

Draco laughed, wincing a little. "Joking, Hermione. We really need to introduce you to the idea that there's more than books and seriousness out there in the big, wide world."

Hermione just shook her head, smiling slightly. Draco eyed her in amusement. Silence fell on the room like a thick cloak.

"Draco, I..."

"Yes?"

"Well, I wanted to thank you. For saving me. For fighting. For...For everything."

"No thanks needed," Draco replied casually.

"No, I'm serious. What you did was really--"

"If you finish that sentence with that damnable word 'brave,' I'll hex you into the middle of next week," said Draco lightly.

"I'll just kick your arse on Thursday," Hermione quipped.*

"I've told you, I'm no bloody Gryffindor. I just did what was necessary. I'm not looking for praise."

Hermione's expression softened somewhat and she reached for his hand, squeezing it lightly.

"I know. I'm glad you did," she smiled.

"Hermione!" Ginny barged through the door. Both looked up at the huffing witch. Her brown eyes conveyed a sense of urgency that instantly made Hermione uneasy.

"Ginny? What's wrong?"

Ginny glanced quickly at Draco. "Could I speak to you outside for a moment?" she asked, grabbing Hermione's upper arm and hauling the cinnamon-haired witch out into the corridor.

"Really! What in the name of Merlin--"

"He's escaped," broke in Ginny.

"What?"

"The one who betrayed you to Voldemort escaped from the holding cell in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not following. Who?"

Elizabeth had appeared beside her. She seemed anxious, her blue eyes slightly clouded. "It was Thomas, Hermione." She spoke as if at the bedside of a dying person.

"Thomas? He betrayed us?"

"The ruddy bastard had the Dark Mark on his arm," interjected Ron.

"Why didn't you inform me of this before?" demanded Hermione, on the verge of hysterics. "Why didn't you tell me one of my associates, one of my close co-workers, for Merlin's sake, the man I was dating, DID THIS?"

"Well, we didn't--"

"You didn't think, Ronald," Hermione said in a low tone. "You were too caught up in wringing me about Draco. I can't believe this!"

She sunk into a chair, a hand on her forehead. Elizabeth and Ginny plopped down on either side, patting her hand and shoulder. Harry made his way over and pulled Ron aside. He spoke quickly and quietly, eyes alight with ire and anger. Hermione strained her ears in attempt to make out their discussion, but they spoke too low. Ron appeared as upset as Harry, throwing his hands this way and that as he conversed. They both nodded in some form of agreement, their talk ending with Harry striding purposefully away.

"Where's Harry heading now?" inquired Ginny sharply.

"He's just spoken with Sirius via Floo. That's who he received the owl from earlier. Apparently, when we left for the battle, Thomas broke out with some help from our ratty little friend."

Ginny and Hermione exchanged knowing looks; Elizabeth sat confused.

"They stunned the secretary and escaped. Harry's headed off to Sirius's office. I suppose they'll try to pound out some leads."

"What of the other Death Eaters? Do they remain in custody?" asked Hermione apprehensively.

"As far as I know, the whole lot's been taken to await trial in Azkaban. But we all know that could change."

"Why?" inquired Elizabeth.

"The Dementors. They're shady characters, horrible creatures. Dumbledore reckons they're in league with You-Know-Who," explained Ron.

"Dumbledore!" Hermione sprung up.

"What?" said Ron.

"Dumbledore! Has anyone contacted Dumbledore about these events?"

"No. No we haven't," started Ginny, rising as well. "I'll go."

"No need, my dear Miss Weasley," interrupted a crystal voice, representative of wisdom, familiarity, and above all, hope.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," Hermione whispered in shock.

The redoubtable figure of their old Headmaster stood no less imposing than memory recalled, with such power and intelligence compacted into his wry frame. The deep blue of his velvet robes highlighted the determined gaze of the elder wizard, relaxing Hermione. She recognized the feeling of safety and optimism Dumbledore brought, and, as in her Hogwarts days, was fully appreciative of said feeling.

"Miss Granger, it is a pleasure to see you once again. Now, if you will follow me, I believe we have a few topics we need to discuss."

Dumbledore motioned to them as he stepped inside Draco's hospital room. They shuffled in silently. Draco struggled to sit up, clearly surprised to find Albus Dumbledore standing at his bedside. Dumbledore offered him a small smile with a twinkle in his eye. Draco found himself relaxed by this miniscule gesture and leaned back against the pillows, eyeing his other visitors. Ron looked peeved to be within ten feet of him; Ginny smiled slightly; Elizabeth looked positively unsure and out of place; Hermione had taken a seat and seemed to be preparing herself for a lecture. She folded her hands firmly in her lap and focused her full attention on the white-haired wizard.

"Mr. Malfoy. My, it has been a long time since we last met," began Dumbledore as he conjured four extra chairs. "I had hoped to find you in better health."

"I'm sure," drawled Draco. Hermione shot him a sharp, reprimanding look.

Dumbledore chuckled. "I see that your injury, nor the years that have passed since Hogwarts, have not affected your attitude in the slightest. Delightful to know some things remain the same as always. Consistency is a rare find in our world today."

Draco eyed the elder wizard wearily.

"Yes, change is constant. New events occur. People change." He glanced at Draco significantly. "New people join the folds, and old ones leave."

Dumbledore surveyed the room for a moment, pausing in thought. His eyes suddenly seemed to have lost their twinkle.

"Evil, to my dismay, is unfortunately also a constant. I had hoped Voldemort's reign ended that fateful day four years ago. I know now that it was foolish of me to so readily accept his defeat and end. Now, now it will be different this time. More will play in his downfall. More experience will be at hand, more people will take on this daunting task. I do not doubt your bravery and abilities at the age of sixteen were nothing short of extraordinary," he said, looking pointedly at Hermione and then Ron. "But there are some things that even such talented youngsters are unable to do, some things they overlook.

"Power is a tricky element. One may strive to possess in spades. Some underestimate and yet others overestimate its worth and its importance. Without a doubt, power is pivotal in certain circumstances. I, however, have always placed an emphasis on a factor I feel is much more helpful and more powerful than power itself."

"And what is that?" asked Ron skeptically.

"Miss Granger, if you would?" Dumbledore smiled.

"Knowledge. Isn't that right Headmaster?"

"Right in one, as usual Miss Granger. Knowledge over one's enemy is the best weapon one can possess. I believe we now hold that knowledge and can change the tide of this impending war."

"How, sir?" interrupted Ginny.

"Very simply, Miss Weasley. We now have someone who can provide us this essential information."

"Who?" asked Ron.

"Me."

Everyone turned to stare at Draco. He had sat up again, and was looking directly at Dumbledore.

"Correct, Mr. Malfoy. With your past...Connections, I daresay, you can aid us in our battle."

"Yes," muttered Hermione, rising from her chair to pace the length of the sterile room. "Of course! Why didn't I realize this before?"

"Care to enlighten the rest of us?" said Ron.

Hermione smiled, turning to Draco. "You can tell us their plans, can't you?"

Draco appeared to be ruminating over his thoughts, carefully considering how to phrase his next few words. "I believe I can only give you a general idea, nothing more. Voldemort habitually never gave details of his plans. He only communicated specific orders. He wasn't too fond of allowing his followers to know the big picture."

"But you know something, don't you?" asked Elizabeth quickly, speaking for the first time since Dumbledore's arrival.

"I suppose. I've heard certain rumblings. We all know of his determined effort to capture Hermione, not to mention his agitation with the possibility of a counter-curse. Everyone's assumed he wants her dead. Kill her, and the counter-curse dies with her."

"But it wouldn't. The remainder of the department has enough clues to continue on with the project," said Hermione.

"Exactly what I thought. So, I imagined he wanted you to work out some sort of deal with the Ministry; you're return for the destruction of the research. But that wouldn't work either; one, because it would be too easy to begin again once you were released, and two, you would rather sacrifice yourself than allow that to happen."

"So the question is, why does he really want me?" said Hermione thoughtfully.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "Yes, why indeed. Mr. Malfoy, any theories?"

Draco sat in silence. "Well, there has been an indirect mention of some connection you have...But I don't know to what. That Shields character has been in charge of the whole thing. Voldemort's placed a high trust in him, and neither have spoken of the connection before anyone else."

"A connection..." Hermione repeated thoughtfully. "Couldn't he be referring to my connection to Harry? As his friend?"

"If that was the case, then why'd you reckon he'd go after you and not me?" asked Ron, his face screwed up in concentration.

"True..."

"No, Hermione has some completely different relevance. For once, I believe the Boy Who Lived to Annoy Me isn't involved...At least not directly."

"Well," Elizabeth began hesitantly, "Hermione's known for her intelligence throughout the wizarding world, right? Is it possible he wants to capture Hermione and force her to work out some puzzle or problem of his?"

"Maybe. But isn't that what that git Shields is for?" asked Ginny.

A contemplative lull fell over the room. Dumbledore tapped his chin, pensive.

"I believe," he spoke in a rational tone, "We have reached an impasse."

"Excuse me! Excuse me! I think Mr. Malfoy has had enough commotion for one day!" admonished an elderly mediwitch wearing white robes as she walked into the room. "The patient needs his rest. Out! Out!"

"Does Madame Pomfrey have a sister?" sniggered Ron as the group relocated in the corridor.

"Ron," Hermione scolded in a warning tone while Ginny smothered a snicker.

"I must return to Hogwarts now," stated Dumbledore, his mouth twitching into a smile for a moment. "Please contact me if you discover anything of interest."

They bid him goodbye, watching him walk to the entrance and disappear outside.

"Well, what's there to do now?" asked Ginny. Elizabeth shrugged.

"I'm not sure. Ron, what did Harry say to you before he left?" Hermione looked at the tall red-head.

"Just that he was going to 'sort things out' with Sirius and that none of us needed to 'go poking around there at the moment.' I told him he was mental if he thought for one moment we'd stay out of there."

"Maybe he's right. The Ministry's probably in an uproar over the Death Eater attack. I think all of us would just be in the way," said Elizabeth.

Hermione nodded in agreement. "Maybe it would be for the best if we all headed back to Godric's Hollow to await any news."

Elizabeth and Ginny nodded, and Ron agreed reluctantly. They followed Hermione out into the street and Apparated back to the house.

Ginny plopped down on the green sofa, slipping off her strappy heels and curling up to nap. Hermione sunk into a scarlet plush chair, fidgeting nervously. Ron and Elizabeth exchanged significant looks.

"I'll put on the kettle. We all could use some coffee," he announced tiredly. Elizabeth trailed him into the kitchen.

After a few quick spells, the kettle was boiling with water. Ron pulled a few mugs out of the cabinet and set them on the counter next to where Elizabeth had hopped up. She motioned him over to her and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"You look awful, Weasley," she teased gently.

"Then you can only imagine how you must look since I'm the good-looking one in the relationship."

"You smart-ass," she chuckled, dropping a quick kiss on his lips. "But really, you're exhausted. You need sleep."

"Yeah, I reckon a nap sounds nice. We should all get some rest."

"Then why are you brewing caffeine-filled coffee?" she smiled tiredly at him.

Ron shrugged. "It was the first thing I could think of..." he trailed off into a yawn.

"Just turn the stove off. Your sister's probably already dozing on the sofa and Hermione doesn't need it...Didn't she look particularly twitchy to you?"

"That's Hermione for you. She's set herself to work out the solution as fast as possible."

"And after all she's been through, too."

"You do realize this is only the beginning, right? Things'll get worse before they get better. That's how it always goes," Ron spoke evenly, staring into Elizabeth's sky blue eyes.

Elizabeth nodded, burying her head into Ron's neck.

"I know. Even though I was at school in America, we still felt the affects of V-Voldemort out there."

Ron squeezed her closer as he placed small kisses on the side of her head. Elizabeth leaned back and caught Ron's mouth with hers, both kissing with a passion never felt before, with a feeling of underlying worry for the other and the uncertainty of the future.

"How about we head upstairs?" asked Ron, breaking the kiss.

"Sure."

Ron helped Elizabeth off the counter and set her on the tiled floor. She returned the cups to the cupboard while he emptied the kettle. The kitchen towel fell from the rack on the oven door, and Ron bent to retrieve it; a quick smack was placed on his bottom and he straightened up immediately, turning and accusing glare at Elizabeth.

"What?" she asked innocently, a small smile playing on her lips. "I can't help it when the opportunity presents itself."

In a flash, Ron seized Elizabeth about the waist and tossed her over his shoulder. "I shall have to punish you, woman!"

Elizabeth laughed, half-heartedly pounding Ron's back, as they trouped through the living room and to the staircase.

"Lemme down, you brute! I thought you were exhausted!" she chuckled.

Ron stopped briefly when he spotted Hermione at the door.

"Where're you going?"

"I...I thought I'd sit with Draco."

"But--"

Hermione turned and walked out of the house.

"Fine. Whatever suits your fancy," he muttered, and continued hauling Elizabeth up the stairs.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Well, here are the reports. Have a look at them," said Sirius, handing the one of the folders over to Harry. Both wizards sat leafing through papers at Sirius's corner desk.

"They only caught 19 Death Eaters?" mumbled Harry in agitation.

"Apparently. They've compiled a list. Here," Sirius replied, running his finger down the parchment of names.

"Let's see then...I only recognize a few of the old crowd--Avery, Dolohov, Goyle Sr., Malfoy Sr., and Nott. There's also a few past Slytherins I remember from Hogwarts: Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Marcus Flint, and Adrian Pusey. There's loads more that I've never heard..."

"Well, it appears that Voldemort's been busy recruiting these past four years."

"Seems so. But surely more had been captured. That was a full scale attack!"

"Yes, which makes me wonder...Why did they need so many people to grab Hermione?" pondered Sirius.

Harry looked thoughtful. "That is suspicious. I thought they shied away from such open attacks; that they were more into covert operations with as few people as possible."

"Exactly. They hate drawing attention to themselves..."

"Obviously they were looking for something."

"Hermione!" cried Harry as he and Sirius spun around to face the cinnamon-haired witch. "What are you doing here? I thought I told you--"

"To stay out of it?" snorted Hermione, pulling a chair up to the desk. "I thought you'd need my help."

Harry seemed vexed.

"Ignore him. He's in a foul mood," chuckled Sirius. "But really, what do you think they were after?"

"Well, have you consulted the reports? Is there a mention of any missing items from La Maison?"

"Hmm...Yes. Rather odd things, come to think of it." Sirius handed the parchment to Hermione to read.

Hermione gasped. "The 'Amants mystérieux' and La Masion de Roses: The History of a Mansion!"

END OF CHAPTER ELEVEN

Notes: *Line from Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. I couldn't help myself! It's one of my favorite quotes! I just tweaked it a little to suit my purposes.