Rating:
15
House:
Schnoogle
Ships:
Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger
Characters:
Draco Malfoy Harry Potter Hermione Granger
Genres:
Drama Angst
Era:
Harry and Classmates During Book Seven
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Half-Blood Prince
Stats:
Published: 11/28/2006
Updated: 03/15/2007
Words: 148,035
Chapters: 51
Hits: 126,771

Draco: Phoenix Rising

Cheryl Dyson

Story Summary:
Dumbledore is dead, Snape is a traitor and Draco is a Death Eater, but is he really cut out for a position on Voldemort's team?

Chapter 25 - The Sons of Horus

Chapter Summary:
The mysterious book yields a clue.
Posted:
01/04/2007
Hits:
2,482


Chapter Twenty Five - The Sons of Horus

Harry stayed in the common room to peruse the book, but Hermione was both physically and emotionally tired. She went straight to bed and managed not to have any dreams, for which she was utterly grateful.

She hurried down and had breakfast with McGonagall, John Williamson, and Kingsley Shacklebolt. She realized her mistake as soon as she sat down and they began to swamp her with questions about where Draco and Ron had found the Carrows. She baffled them by protesting complete innocence (which was mostly true) and insisting she had no knowledge of how they had captured the Death Eaters (which was absolutely true) and suggested they wait until Ron awoke for answers. Ron appeared shortly thereafter with a bizarre story that they had gone to Snape's house to leave a message for Draco's father. Hermione nearly clapped a hand to her forehead at the ridiculous story, but luckily the truth about the Death Eaters' arrival buried the tall tale.

Hermione was impressed at Ron's quick thinking, but made a mental note to find out exactly how he had turned Amycus Carrow into a canary. She was certain she knew all of Ron's spells, but she had never heard of that particular one. More Order members drifted down to eat, forcing Ron to repeat his story. Hermione finished eating and took a plate up for Harry, knowing he wouldn't be missed in the excitement of Ron's tale.

Harry was immersed in the book. He looked up gratefully when she entered and grabbed a croissant from the tray.

"This is the most bloody confusing thing. It doesn't help that the type makes you go cross-eyed if you look at it too long. See if you can make heads or tails of it."

She sat down next to him and took the book. It was written in an archaic style with maddening Dark Arts typeset that gave her a headache after five minutes. She rubbed her temples.

"There's a spell to diminish the effects of the typeset, but I can't recall where I even saw it. Probably one of the books at Grimmauld Place."

"Dark magic to counter dark magic," Harry said. "Does any of it make sense?"

"Well, I skimmed over the part where it talks about creating the Horcruxes. There isn't much about destroying them, of course. It does give an incantation, thank goodness, but it talks about invoking the 'Sons of Horus' and making an offering to Shu. Egyptian, right? This is old, old magic." She looked at Harry. "Have you ever seen any references to Egypt in the library? I certainly haven't! No wonder we couldn't find any information on Horcruxes." She was indignant. The library had failed her. "I'll do another search, but I may have to go home and look in a Muggle library."

She looked at the book awhile longer, seeking additional clues, but the reference to the Sons of Horus seemed to be the key bit of information. She finally pushed it aside.

"Enough. I need to go to the library. You?"

Harry set his tray aside. "The usual. Back to the Pensieve. I think I'll wait for Ron, though. Two heads are better than one when assessing memories."

"He might be awhile. He's telling his exciting story of rescue." She flushed slightly, thinking about Ron.

"What?" Harry asked perceptively.

"It's Ron. He grabbed me on the stairs last night and kissed me."

Harry grinned hugely. "You're kidding!" He laughed. "All right, Ron. It's about time."

She shook her head, annoyed. "It's not all right. And it's not about time, either. It's too late, actually."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I didn't feel anything, Harry," she admitted miserably. He looked puzzled.

"What are you supposed to feel? It was just a kiss, right?"

She almost laughed. What are you supposed to feel? Well, she wouldn't have known before, would she? She would never have guessed what a simple kiss could make you feel... until Malfoy.

"You're supposed to feel like you're the only two people in the world. Like everything around you could crumble to dust and you wouldn't even notice. Like you're drowning, but clinging to a lifeline at the same time. Like you're burning and freezing at once." She trailed off.

Harry stared at her in amazement. "Seriously? I've never felt anything like that. Kissing Cho... well, it was nice, but it certainly wasn't... what you said."

"Neither was kissing Viktor. Nor Ron," she said ruefully.

His green eyes narrowed.

"Wait a minute, if neither Ron nor Viktor made you feel all drowning and things, then how do you know you're supposed to... no bloody way. Tell me you did not feel like that when--"

"Don't be silly," she said briskly. "We'd better get to that Pensieve so I can get started on my fruitless search for Egyptian information. Are you finished eating?"

"Yes. Hermione, I think we really need to talk about this."

"There is nothing to talk about. The only thing that matters is that Ron is not hurt. I can only hope he felt the same last night."

"You mean--nothing?"

"Exactly. Nothing."

"I give that about a one percent chance of accuracy," he said dryly. Her heart sank at his words. Those were about the odds she calculated, as well.

The next Pensieve memory took place in Snape's office. Dumbledore seemed to be angry when he strode in.

"Did you know?" he demanded when Snape looked up from his desk. "Did you know Tom Riddle's diary was a Horcrux?"

Snape huffed. "Of course not. I never even saw the bloody thing. I didn't know it existed."

"Why would he give it to Lucius?"

"He loved Lucius. The only two he trusted were Lucius and Bellatrix. If he wanted something kept for him, he would have given it to one of them."

Dumbledore sank into a chair before his desk. His anger seemed to have melted into frustration.

"I never would have expected a diary," he admitted. "It makes sense, of course, for him to use something personal, but it worries me. It worries me greatly."

Snape sat forward. "Well, we had eleven bloody years of peace in which to find and destroy these Horcruxes and how many have we destroyed?" Snape slammed a fist down on the desk. "Now, we're running out of time."

Dumbledore glared at him. "We've been searching."

"I've been searching! You've been doing God-knows-what, concentrating so much on this bloody school--"

"This school holds the future of the wizarding world!" Dumbledore said coldly.

"There will not be a future of the wizarding world if we do not stop him!" Snape thundered, half-rising and leaning over his desk.

Dumbledore massaged his temples with long fingers.

"I know," he said tiredly. "I have let time slip away from me. It moves so quickly these days..."

"Let us dispense with the regretful trips down memory lane and concentrate on the problem at hand. The Horcruxes are the least of our worries, at the moment. We've got to prevent him from obtaining a body."

Dumbledore waved a dismissing hand at Snape's suggestion.

"We know what to look for, now. If he attempts to possess--"

"Don't be stupid!" Snape barked. "I'm not talking about possession! I'm talking about obtaining flesh! A new body. It can be done. I'm sure he's working toward that end."

"He cannot cast such a spell in the state he is in," Dumbledore scoffed. "And his loyal servants are all in our custody."

"Your overconfidence is inspiring," Snape said sarcastically.

Dumbledore laughed. "I do hope so. At least Lucius managed to aid us, albeit unwittingly. One Horcrux has been destroyed."

"Thanks to the overwhelming luck of The Chosen One."

"It was more than luck that allowed a second-year to defeat a basilisk."

"Yes, it was Godric Gryffindor's sword."
"The sword did not wield itself, my friend."

"I have no wish to sit here and listen to you prattle on about the merits of a boy who can't even brew a simple potion without help from his Mudblood girlfriend."

Dumbledore's face hardened.

"I have asked you to refrain from using that terminology in my presence."

Snape's teeth bared in a caricature of a smile.

"Sorry," he said. "Force of habit. Bad upbringing, you know." He didn't sound the least bit apologetic. Hermione shook her head. It was bad enough when purebloods like Malfoy used such slurs, but it was incomprehensible when half-bloods like Snape and Tom Riddle did so.

"Yes," Dumbledore said, sounding unconvinced. He got to his feet.

"I'll never change, you know," Snape said suddenly. "Not really."

Dumbledore smiled beatifically. "The mere fact that you mention it makes it possible."

Snape shook his head and sighed as Dumbledore started out. "Blind old fool."

Hermione looked at Harry in puzzlement.

"Bloody hell," Harry said. "Every memory is more confusing than the last."

"Snape warned him about Voldemort acquiring a body. He didn't listen."

Harry nodded, looking sick. "Two years before it happened. Two years."

"And what about that warning at the end? 'I'll never change.' Was he telling Dumbledore that he was still a Death Eater?"

"How could he be and yet help Dumbledore try to stop Voldemort? Everything about Snape is a contradiction."

Harry glanced at Dumbledore's portrait, but Dumbledore was gone. Hermione grinned ruefully. Probably wanted to avoid any questions brought on by that particular memory. Harry went over and looked at the vials.

"The next one is right after we saved Sirius and Buckbeak. When we found out about Wormtail."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not ready for anything related to that terrible night. Not at the moment, anyway. Come to the library with me. Maybe I missed some books on Egypt simply because I was never looking for them. We never thoroughly went through the Restriction Section, either."

Harry returned the vial. "All right."

* * * * *

Draco awoke slowly and stretched. He felt a twinge in his neck and painfully recalled why he hated sleeping on the beds at Hogwarts. He missed his pillow-soft feather bed at home. Hell, he missed everything about being at home. His bed, his clothes, his comfortable fur-lined slippers, his scalding baths, his lazy breakfasts in bed...

He propped his arms behind his head and wondered what time it was. The Gryffindors definitely had an advantage there. In the dungeon, it was always night. Great for sleeping, not so great for waking up at a decent hour. For all he knew, it was past noon. He felt pretty good, so it was more than likely he'd gotten enough sleep. He tugged his wand out from under his pillow and lit all the lamps in the room. It dispelled the gloom, but didn't brighten the place much.

He wondered if Potter and Granger had sorted out the book. He grinned at last night's memory of Hermione, although he had to wonder why she had run down and kissed him. Merely to annoy Ron? Frankly, he also wondered why she was no longer giving him the cold shoulder. She had been so enraged outside Hagrid's hut; he assumed she would never speak to him again. Mercurial, was Granger.

He reached over to the bedside stand and picked up her Galleon.

What time is it? he asked

His coin warmed instantly.

You're calling me for a time check?

You expected me to call for a different reason?

No. It's nearly 11 am. I thought you might sleep all day.

Maybe you should have awakened me.

I don't know the Slytherin password.

It's apple. Would you have used it?

Apple?

Yes. Garden of Eden? Adam and Eve? Wicked serpent? Apple.

I see. No, I probably wouldn't have used it.

Draco walked the coin across his knuckles for a moment and then asked, Will you use it now? He winced as soon as the message was sent. Why had he asked that? He considered the question. Simple, he just wanted to ask her about the book without Potter and Weasley butting in with their annoying commentary. That's all.

You want me to come down there?

Yes.

There was a very long pause. He grinned to think of her little mind spinning and spinning with questions and concerns. Would her intelligence win out over her trusting nature? Would Gryffindor boldness triumph over demure reticence?

All right. I'll meet you in your common room.

Draco laughed aloud. He would have bet on Gryffindor boldness any day of the week.

It took her less than ten minutes. He hoped she had left Weasley with his jaw agape as she bolted. She would have had to run from the Gryffindor common room. Of course, at this time of day, she had probably been elsewhere.

"Malfoy?" she called from the common room.

"I'm in here," he replied.

"Well, come out."

"No. You come in here."

He fully expected her to argue with him for awhile, so he was quite surprised when she appeared in the doorway with a wary expression on her face. She was dressed in a school uniform today, except the vest and tie were missing and the white blouse was casually open at the neck. No heavy robes, either. Draco had never expected to find the Hogwarts uniform sexy, but she looked surprisingly fetching. Maybe it was just his memory of what she wore underneath...

"You look like a naughty schoolgirl," he said huskily. She flushed.

"I'm neither naughty nor a schoolgirl, at the moment. I simply forgot to bring any clothing from home. I've asked Mrs. Weasley to send my things from... from the Headquarters of the Order. Until they arrive, I'm stuck wearing this. How long do you plan to stay in bed?"

"Until you come over here and wake me properly."

She scowled. "Sorry, I don't have a pitcher of ice water to toss on your head. I'll conjure one if you'd like." She walked over and sat on the bed usually occupied by Crabbe. "So. What did you want to tell me yesterday? When I refused to listen?"

Draco shook his head.

"Oh no. You missed your chance on that one. Besides, I've forgotten."

She gave him a measuring look and absently reached into her shirt. She toyed with the coin, sliding it up and down the chain. Draco waited. There was something on her mind, obviously. He grinned when she blurted with typical Gryffindor bluntness, "Why did you tell Ron to kiss me?"

Draco's brows shot up. "Did he?"

She nodded and Draco chuckled. "Well, well, well. He was listening. Not quite as stupid as we all thought, is Weasley?"

"I never thought Ron was stupid. Answer the question."

"I didn't think he'd actually do it," Draco admitted with a grin.

"With you goading him into it? How could he not?"

"So, how was it?"

Hermione flushed again. "It was good. Fine. Excellent. Very exciting."

"God, you really are the most atrocious liar."

She leaped to her feet and her chin snapped into the air stubbornly.

"I was not lying!"

"A bit better, but still not convincing. Try again."

She gave him a venomous glare and began to pace next to the bed.

"You are, without a doubt, the most irritating--"

"How was my kiss?"

Her words choked off as if he'd strangled her. The flush that tinted her cheeks most deliciously answered his question better than anything she might have said. She had to clear her throat before she could speak, and even then her words were barely audible.

"Horrid. Nasty. Worst kiss ever," she whispered. Draco laughed throatily.

"Really? Well, damn me. I'd better try again."

He reached out quick as a striking snake and grabbed her wrist. She pulled back with a gasp, but he drew her inexorably toward him. She shook her head in denial, but he gave a quick heave and yanked her off balance. She fell on top of him and he released her wrist to wrap both hands tightly in her curls.

"Don't!" she breathed. Her eyes were wide and frightened, but she froze when he tilted her head slightly and pressed her lips against his. The kiss he'd given her on the stairs had been a childish peck compared to the assault he launched upon her now. There would be no interruptions, so he took his time and savored every tormenting instant. He tasted her somewhat gently at first, to lull her into relaxing, and was surprised when it worked better than expected. His lips playfully teased hers, tender and undemanding. With a soft sigh, she melted against him. He was wary of a trick, so did not release his grip. He deepened the kiss, teasing her mouth open and sliding his tongue inside to touch hers lightly. She inhaled sharply and he smiled against her mouth. After that, he was ruthless. He tasted, sucked, nibbled, and played with every part of her mouth; lips, tongue, and teeth until she whimpered mindlessly and writhed against him.

Somewhere along the way, he lost all control. Hermione wasn't passive. She returned his kiss with her own, matching tease for tease, taste for taste. Her hands, hot and silken, caressed his bare chest. It was exquisite torment. His own hands were tangled helplessly in her hair, though he strove to free them in order to slide them down to her body, sprawled across his in senseless abandon. He needed to touch her.

He tore one hand free suddenly and she gasped when several strands of hair went with it. She pulled back to stare at him through eyes glazed with passion. Her chest labored against his as she struggled to breathe normally. Draco's hand, free at last, tugged sharply at her blouse and then slipped beneath it. He caressed the satiny skin of her back and she arched against him with a gasp. Hot desire filled his senses with a rush that was physically painful. He moved his other hand, trying desperately to free it so he could move the offending materials out of the way--clothing and sheets--he would tear them away if he had to.

He realized his mistake in an instant. The fevered kiss that had kept her in thrall had been broken. Freed from the delightful stimulus, her mind began to function again.

"What... what am I doing?" she breathed. Before he could stop her, she heaved herself off of him, leaving behind a substantial length of hair still twisted in his fingers. She backed away quickly and sat down hard on Crabbe's bed. Her brown eyes were wide with disbelief. Her hair was disheveled and her lips were swollen. Her shirt was askew and half out of her skirt. God, he wanted her.

He shut his eyes and struggled for control. He took several deep, steadying breaths and fought the heat that strove to overwhelm him. He clenched his fists and stilled himself against the urge to throw himself across the intervening space and press her down upon Crabbe's bed...

Control. Control. Control. He chanted the word until he felt calm returning. He opened his eyes and slanted them at her with a smirk guaranteed to infuriate her.

"How was it that time?" he asked with a hint of amusement.

"There are no words," she said quietly. He laughed sardonically. He couldn't accuse her of lying. She stood up and walked quickly to the door, out of his reach, he knew. She tucked her shirt carefully back into her skirt and ran her hands across her hair in an attempt to smooth it. When she spoke again, her voice was calm.

"If you've quite finished tormenting me, it's time to get up. We would like your opinion on some information found in the book. I'll wait for you out here."

She went out and he stared after her in bemusement. So, she planned to pretend that nothing had happened. Maybe she thought he was just playing a game. Was he? He thought about her lying across him, kissing him, touching him... He drew a ragged breath. No. Not a game. He had been trying to teach her a lesson and received one himself. Don't play with fire.