Draco: Phoenix Rising

Chapter Twenty Seven - Draco's Debt

Draco awoke to find Hermione fast asleep at the opposite end of the couch. The book was open on her lap. He sat up and rubbed his eyes before glancing at the clock on the mantle. Six fifteen. He'd better go up to the Great Hall and make an appearance before the Gryffindors wondered where he was.

His cloak had slid onto the floor, so he picked it up. He carefully removed the book from Hermione's lap and covered her with his cloak. He brushed a lock of hair away from her eyes for a moment and wondered how his feelings could have changed so quickly. Had it only been days ago that he despised her? They had been through so much together. Luna, the rescue of Longbottom, the Horcrux search... Now that she had included Draco into her close circle of friends, he had a suspicion that she would fight to the death for him, the same as she would for Potter or Weasley. Her inability to cut him had been eye opening. She didn't want to hurt him, even on a superficial level. After all he had done to her...

He shook his head. As it turned out, he no longer wanted to hurt her, either. He went to his room and spent some time on a small project and then he went upstairs and grinned wickedly at Weasley's sigh of relief when Draco appeared in the Great Hall. The Weasel would have flipped his top if he knew where Hermione was at this moment. Draco wondered if Hermione could seriously entertain the notion of Weasley as a boyfriend. Her lack of enthusiasm when describing his kiss had been telling. Draco froze for a moment, wondering why he was even worrying about the idea. If she wanted Weasley, it was fine with him. Better than fine.

"Hermione must be sleeping," Harry commented when Draco sat down across from him. Draco was rather surprised to be the recipient of a conversation. Potter must be feeling under the weather.

"Let her rest. She'll likely be doing most of the work tonight. If you're finished, we should go and start preparations. Plus, we still need a lot of items."

"Aren't you eating?"

"I'll eat later."

"All right. I'm finished."

Draco scribbled a quick list and the three of them parted to retrieve the necessary equipment. They all met on the third floor and Harry guided Draco down to the hidden chamber, lighting the way brightly with his wand. The space was nearly perfect, a high-walled chamber with multiple vaults and a lowered dais in the center. It was very dusty and Draco set Ron and Harry to sweeping while he alternately shot jets of water and wind from his wand until the floor gleamed. The three of them, however, were filthy from splattered dirty water.

Draco set a small table in the center of the room and carefully draped a linen cloth over it. Atop the cloth, he set the Hufflepuff cup, a small incense burner, a cauldron, a piece of parchment inscribed with a stylized pentagram, a large ball of white string, and a white candle. Next to the altar, he set four additional candles: red, brown, yellow, and blue.

Harry was busy with a bucket of salt, into which he mixed several of Hermione's gathered herbs: angelica, horehound, mistletoe, and nettle. Draco set another censor, two small bowls, crumbled bits of frankincense and myrrh, and the flask of holy water next to the four mismatched candles.

He stood and looked at the other two.

"I think this is ready. Now, we just wait for Granger. What time is it?"

"Eight twenty," Harry supplied after a quick glance at his watch. Draco nodded.

"I suggest we all get cleaned up. We purified the room and it wouldn't hurt to do the same to ourselves. Let's plan to meet back here at 11:30."

He went straight to the prefect's bathroom on the fifth floor, stripped, and sank gratefully into a tub of very hot water. He dunked his head and settled back for a long, relaxing soak. His languid recreation was broken some time later when the coin he now wore about his neck heated. He lifted it on its new cord.

Malfoy?

Finally awake?

Yes. Where are you?

In the bath. Care to join me?

Hardly. Where are the others?

Certainly not here! Why don't you check out the Gryffindor common room?

All right. Where shall I meet you?

Here would be nice.

Drag your mind from the gutter and be serious.

I was serious. But for the sake of your virtue, I'll meet you in the chamber in thirty minutes or so.

Enjoy your bath.

That was out of the question, now. He'd been enjoying it immensely until the image of her joining him there took over his mind. He quickly soaped his hair, rinsed, and left the water.

He wrapped himself in a thick white dressing gown, as a row of them hung from hooks on the wall. Rather than stride through the halls half-undressed, he Tranfigured it into a set of white dress robes, getting them too tight at first. It took several attempts before he was satisfied with the results. He wondered how Hermione always managed to get the fit right on the first try.

He pulled his boots back on, combed his drying hair, and headed for the chamber. She was already there, assessing the work they had done.

"Nice job," she commented. She turned to look at him fully and her eyes widened as they traveled over him. He grinned. He quite enjoyed it when she looked at him like that.

"White?" she asked.

"It seemed appropriate."

"I never would have guessed the color would suit you so well. You look like..." She stopped and a bit of pink tinted her cheeks.

"Like what?" he prodded, but she shook her head.

"Never mind. Your ego needs no more fodder. It's swollen enough."

He walked forward and stood before her in his usual manner. He loved watching her wrestle with her need to step away. Her Gryffindor pride always won. She held her ground, as usual, and raised stormy brown eyes to his.

"Must you always stand so bloody close?" she asked.

"Yes," he said seriously. It was the only way he could drink in the apple-like scent of her, and watch the expressions that flitted across her face. Like the brief flash of annoyance that warred with the blush creeping across her cheeks. The fact that simply standing close to her had an effect on her gave him a heady sense of masculine power. Judging from the kiss they had shared and her reaction to it, Miss Granger's resistance to him was eroding quickly.

With a silent groan, he realized he shouldn't have conjured that particular memory. Her full lips were the color of a ripe peach and he knew they tasted as sweet. His heart began to thud in his chest and her blush deepened as if sensing the direction of his thoughts. Her chin rose almost imperceptibly and her lips parted. Her eyelids fluttered downward.

No way in hell could he resist that invitation. He lowered his head, but a venomous snarl caused him to pause and look over his shoulder. Hermione gasped. Weasley stood in the doorway looking as though he wanted to fly into the room and pummel Draco with his bare fists.

"God, Weasley," Draco said dryly. "Could you possibly have located a color that clashes more with your hair?" Ron's robes were clean, but a bit worn, and resembled the color of dried blood. Draco tipped his wand and turned the robes a different color.

Weasley yelped. "What the hell--? No way am I wearing Slytherin green! Hermione!"

She turned his robes back and then gave Draco a look, but admitted, "I have to say green does suit you, Ron."

"Maybe I should have been in Slytherin, then," Ron said bitterly. "You seem to have a thing for them all of a sudden."

"Honestly, Ronald," she said in exasperation and rolled her eyes. "Where's Harry?"

"Coming. Should we start early?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm starving and I feel inappropriately dressed. I think I'll get something to eat and then change."

"I'll join you," Draco said.

"Let's all go," Ron snapped and Draco grinned. The Weasel certainly had his dander up. Hermione headed down the corridor, followed by Ron, who fell into step beside Draco.

"You owe me a favor, Malfoy," Ron said in a low voice. Draco flicked a disdainful glance at him.

"I haven't forgotten."

"Good. I want you to stay away from Hermione."

Draco watched her walking ahead of them. Her curls bounced when she moved and the skirt she wore twitched invitingly with each step of her delectable legs. Draco's eyes caressed her form wickedly.

"I'll have to get back to you on that one, Weasel."

"I mean it, Malfoy," Ron hissed. "You're playing some sort of horrid game with her and she seems to be falling for it. I don't want to see her hurt, so you just leave her the hell alone."

"Relax. If her ickle heart gets broken, she'll go running to you for comfort, so what's the problem?"

"The problem is that I don't want her around you at all. You're bad news and I'm not buying this whole 'change of heart' routine. Not one bit. If you want to convince me you're not the same person who arranged Dumbledore's death, you'll do as I ask. You fucking owe me and I'm telling you what will square us."

Draco felt a rush of annoyance.

"I don't want to convince you of anything, Weasley. Believe whatever you like. God, you Gryffindors are narrow-minded. Everything is either black or white to you. Your motives sure as hell aren't squeaky-clean. She's a big girl and she can make her own decisions. She doesn't need you manipulating her life."

"Don't even get me started on manipulation, you Slytherin bastard! Somehow, you're making her forget who you really are--what you've done! Well, I haven't forgotten."

They were nearly to the chamber beneath the trapdoor. Draco wanted to slam Weasley against the wall. He fought down his rage. Hermione glanced back at them and he noticed her gaze travel over him again. Her lips curved in a sensual smile that nearly stopped Draco's heart. He expelled a breath. Maybe the Weasel was right. He'd probably end up hurting her in the end. Where did he expect it to go? A hot, delicious roll in the sack? And then what? A girl like Hermione wouldn't settle for casual treatment. She would expect commitment. Hand-holding. Flowers. Engagement ring. Invitation home to meet Mummy and Daddy.

His jaw clenched. That would go over well. "Mother, Father, meet my Mudblood girlfriend. Yes, the same girl I hated with a passion for six long years. Ironic, isn't it?"

She stopped and waited for them expectantly. It took a fine-tuned Wingardium Leviosa to get them back up to the third floor. No one could cast it better than Hermione. Hell, no one could cast much of anything better than her. She really did deserve better than Draco Malfoy. He glared at Weasley. She deserved better than the Weasel, too. What she deserved was... He shook his head and chuckled wryly. She deserved the Golden Boy himself. She deserved Harry Potter.

Weasley scowled at him suspiciously.

"All right, Weasel-face. You win. I'll do it," Draco said with a sigh of resignation.

"Do what?" Hermione asked now that they were close enough for her to overhear.

"No tricks?" Ron demanded.

"No tricks. You have my word as a Malfoy."

Ron's derisive expression revealed what he thought about that vow, but Draco didn't give a damn whether he believed it or not.

"What are you two plotting?"

Draco gazed at her sadly and wished he had been able to kiss her one last time. He sighed. C'est la vie.

"Never mind," Ron said. "Just a little matter between me and Malfoy. Take us up, Hermione."

She looked from one of them to the other, shook her head, and cast the spell.

They gathered in the chamber once more at 11:45. Hermione had eaten and then hurried off to bathe. She had waited expectantly for Draco to offer to join her and her eyes had narrowed in puzzlement when he hadn't even grinned. Draco had cursed Weasley under his breath, though. Roundly and often.

She was currently dressed in yellow robes. A strange color, but one that fit her well. She looked like springtime. Draco decided he had best stop thinking about her and turned his eyes to the others. Weasley still wore his ugly red robes and Harry's were black--an odd contract to Draco's white. They all stood around the altar and Hermione handed Draco the bucket of herbed salt.

"Cast away, oh mighty one," she said quietly.

Draco took the salt in his left hand and his wand in his right. The others looked sober, but determined. They had lit several candles about the room to provide light. Draco tried to shake off the notion that the place resembled a crypt. Not exactly a thought conducive to a positive working. He walked several paces from the altar in order to give them a large enough space, and then tipped the bucket. As he walked, he drew an imaginary line with his wand before covering it with salt.

"I conjure thee, oh circle of power, in this place, purified for our purpose. May this circle be perfect and unbroken. Guard us within. Sanctify this space and shield us from all powers without. Preserve and contain the powers we raise herein. By completion of thy sacred ring, I bless and consecrate thee."

With his final words, the ring of salt was completed. A bluish glow emanated from the outer edge of the salt, losing its hue as it rose, but giving the illusion of a shield enclosing the space overhead. He looked at Hermione expectantly.

She took up the censor containing frankincense and myrrh and placed it at the easternmost point of the circle. She lit them with her wand and a fragrant hint of smoke curled upwards. She Accioed the yellow candle and set it next to the censor.

She stood before the candle and raised her arms upwards in supplication, wand still clutched tightly in her right hand.

"Hail to thee, Son of Horus, Guardian of the East, bringer of the dawn. Lend to us your knowledge. Grant us clarity of thought, swift and pure as the desert wind that sweeps across the sand. Join with us. Protect us with the power of air and the innocence of childhood. With this light I conjure thee."

She lowered her wand and lit the candle. There was no change, but Draco felt a sudden charging of the air, as though a lightning storm was approaching. She turned and looked at Ron, who seemed nervous. He gamely took up the red candle and went to the southern point. He set the candle on the floor, swallowed, and took out the small card Hermione had made for him. He began to read.

"Hail to thee, Son of Horus, Guardian of the South, keeper of the light of noon. Lend to us your energy. Grant us the willpower to see us through our purpose, strong and bright as the sun that heats the desert sand. Join with us. Protect us with the power of fire and the vigor of youth. With this light I conjure thee."

He lit the red candle.

Draco stood to the west with the bowl of holy water and the blue candle. He set both on the floor. Hermione had given him a card, but he had already memorized the words. He raised his arms and spoke.

"Hail to thee, Son of Horus, Guardian of the West, keeper of the dusk. Lend to us your passion. Grant us purity of emotion, as fluid as the Nile, which flows through the desert and brings life to the parched earth. Join with us. Protect us with the power of water and the wisdom of maturity. With this light I conjure thee."

Draco lit the blue candle with a flick of his wand, and then it was Harry's turn. He stood behind the small bowl of pure salt and the brown candle.

"Hail to thee, Son of Horus, Guardian of the North, keeper of darkest midnight. Lend to us your strength. Grant us the endurance to see the coming battle through, solid as the rock beneath the desert sand. Join with us. Protect us with the power of earth and the resolution of old age. With this light I conjure thee."

Harry lit his candle.

With that, the air around them seemed to fairly crackle with energy. Draco let out a breath. He hated ritual magic. There were too many variables. He much preferred to point, flick, and focus his will.

Hermione walked forward and lifted the Horcrux. She set it directly on the parchment inscribed with the pentagram. Next, she lit the thick white candle.

"Now for the hard part," she said and met Draco's eyes. He went forward to stand by her, although he wouldn't be able to help her once she started the incantation.

"You can do it," he said encouragingly. She smiled fleetingly and began.

The spell had been taken from the book and had to be repeated several times. She punctuated each chant by touching the cup with herbs, holy water, salt, and her wand. A tangible force seemed to grow over the cup and Draco could see the strain on Hermione's face as she struggled to keep the words steady. The cup suddenly blackened and crumpled upon itself. Hermione levitated the cup and parchment. She set the cup down once the paper was free and then caused it to roll tightly like a scroll. Still using her wand, she began to wrap the white string tightly around the parchment. Draco could see her shaking with effort.

He lifted his wand and took over the string wrapping while she kept the scroll in midair. The thing resisted the binding. He persevered and it was finally completely wrapped in string. Hermione dropped it into the cauldron with relief. She cast another spell almost angrily and the string-wrapped paper ignited. It smoldered reluctantly at first, but quickly grew to fill the cauldron with angry, crackling flames that licked skyward and burned with an ugly greenish light.

A sudden howl burst from the cauldron and a dark shape streaked outward. It flung itself at Hermione, but seemed to have no tangibility. She gasped as it went straight through her, and then she crumpled against Draco, who caught her and sank to his knees. He watched as the thing spiraled wildly around their heads, shrieking with an otherworldly sound.

"Open the circle!" Draco yelled to Harry. Potter aimed a burst of water at the salt on the floor and it washed away. As if the air were suddenly sucked from the space, the dark shape hurtled out. As they watched, it dissipated as though shredded by invisible hands. The howling ceased.

"Exit Tom Riddle," Draco said breathlessly. He put a hand to Hermione's neck and felt for a pulse. Thankfully, her heart beat normally. She was probably just in shock from having a piece of Voldemort plunge through her. Ron hurried over and knelt beside them. He grabbed Hermione's shoulders and pulled her away from Draco, who watched him coldly, but said nothing. Ron lifted Hermione's still form.

"I'll take her upstairs," he said flatly. He walked over the broken circle and headed for the exit.

Harry was holding the blackened Hufflepuff cup. He looked at Draco somberly.

"One down," he said. Draco nodded.

"Now we just have to find the rest."

Draco blew out the guttering candles with quick bursts of air from his wand. Harry started after Ron, but paused at the doorway.

"Hey, Malfoy."

Draco looked over at him.

"Thanks for your help," Harry said seriously.

Draco smiled softly.

"Bet that hurt."

Harry laughed. "Yeah."

The Boy Who Lived turned and went out, leaving Draco in the growing darkness.