Fate of Awakening Love

Fate of Awakening Love

Chapter 4 - Archery and Dancing

"Such surrender has been mine. To melt into the dream of us, beyond this troubled place, to where we are not even ourselves. To know that always, always this is mine."

The next day dawned cold, and Hermione groaned as a rooster crowed outside. She turned over in the bed, pulled the covers to her chin and felt warm breath on her face. Her eyes flew open and she froze.

Draco was lying beside her.

And he was asleep.

She shifted slightly so she could sit up with the covers still pulled up, and fixed her eyes on him. A part of her was furious with him... and yet a part was a bit flattered. He couldn't hate her too much, if he wanted to sleep in the same bed as her...but then again, that wasn't particularly true. He could've just gotten tired of sleeping in the chair.

So why didn't he wake her up and tell her to move?

"Are you going to stare all morning or do I have to ask you to stop?" Draco's sleepy voice startled Hermione out of her reverie. She hadn't even noticed his eyes opening.

"Oh, um, sorry," she said, "I--I didn't mean to stare, I was just--"

"Don't sweat it, Granger," he said, sitting up, running a hand through Farieni's tangled hair. "Don't they know how to use combs?" he said irritably. She sighed, still watching him try and work a single tangle out of his hair, his brow furrowed and he biting his lip.

"Why'd you sleep in the bed?" she blurted out. He looked up at her, narrowed his eyes as he noted her flushed red cheeks and her unusually bright eyes.

"Well, 'our' house-elf came in here and asked what was I doing sitting in the chair and not sleeping in the same bed as my wife, and I just said I was thinking about stuff and I would, that she needn't worry about it. So I figured just in case she came back in here--"

"Rowena...I do hate to disturb you during this... whatever you would like to call it... but I need to speak with you," said a sneering woman from the doorway, with limp greasy blonde hair around her shoulders and cold blue eyes. Her name was Professor Desdemona Malise, and Hermione was strongly reminded of Professor Snape whenever she was around the older woman. She's probably his ancestor, she's so foul.

"Aye, Desdemona, if you'll give me a second--"

"Of course, Rowena," said the woman, closing the door. Hermione groaned and threw back the covers, going over to the wardrobe.

"Dreadful wench," Hermione grumbled as she threw on a simple brown wool dress over a blue long-sleeved shirt. She pointed her wand at her hair and muttered a few words angrily, and it plaited itself into a long braid down her back. She shut the door behind her as she left out and followed Malise down the hall to just around the corner.

"You may think you're fooling your students, but you're not fooling me," the woman hissed, her face close to Hermione's (Rowena's), her breath just as foul as her attitude.

"I--I don't know what you're talking about, Desdemona," Hermione stammered, determined to keep a straight face, her eyes narrowed.

"Aye, I'm afraid you do, lassie. You're not Rowena. You're an imposter. You can be sure the headmaster hears of this." She turned and started walking down the hall, away from Hermione, who stood stunned for a second before a realization came to her.

"There's just one problem with your plan," Hermione said loudly, and Malise turned around, the sneer fixed on her face again.

"And what would that be?"

"You can't prove it."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of that." With a final smirk, the woman disappeared up a flight of stairs. Hermione slumped against the wall, feeling defeated and sick. With a hand to her stomach, she bolted down the hall back to hers and Draco's room, pulled the chamber pot from behind the curtain, and retched in it. Draco got up from the bed and came around the screen, crouching by her as she sat back against the wall, sweat slowly sliding down her face, which was pale, her hands shaking and clammy.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" he asked in a genuinely concerned tone. She stared up in his eyes, those same eyes she stared up in yesterday before he kissed her, and another wave of nausea passed over her.

"She knows," she said in a ragged voice. "She knows we're not Rowena and Farieni."

"How?" Draco's voice had lowered to a whisper, his hand on her cheek, slowly smoothing back bits of hair from her face that had come loose from the braid.

"I don't know," said Hermione, shaking her head. "She just said the headmaster would be informed... she called us imposters..."

"Well, she can't corroborate it."

"That's what I said, but she said she wouldn't be so sure of it." Tears slowly fought their way down Hermione's cheeks, and she sniffled and Draco wiped them with his thumb. Hermione could hardly believe the way he was acting. What was worse...

She was afraid she was falling in love with him.

Hermione sniffled a second time just as the door opened. A young wizard of about twelve or thirteen came in the room, caught sight of Draco crouching in front of Hermione, and walked over slowly.

"Mum? Dad? What's going on?" Both Hermione and Draco looked up at the boy, who bore a strong resemblance to Rowena, of course with masculine instead of feminine features. He had the eyes of Farieni, however, that deep brown color that went on forever it seemed.

"H--er, um, your mother just got sick. What's going on?"

"They need Mum to go to the battlefield... they can't transport the man here, they're afraid his neck will snap," Hermione struggled to her feet while Rowena and Farieni's son told them of the dilemma. She took him by the shoulders and stared down in his eyes.

"Do you know the way to the battlefield?"

"It's by the cemetery in Hogsmeade... at the end of the High Street. Mum, I thought you knew--"

"Get my bow, right over there." Hermione instructed while she quickly twisted Rowena's hair in a knot at the base of her neck, using magic to keep it there as she took the bow and quiver of arrows Rowena's son handed her, slinging them both across her back. Draco followed her out of their room, down two flights of stairs to the entrance hall that led outside, where a horse was waiting with a wizard clothed in blue silk robes.

"How did you know it was yours?" Draco whispered as Hermione mounted the horse.

"Easy," she replied, "it had her name in runes." She leaned down and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before gathering the reins and galloping off on the horse towards the village of Hogsmeade. Hermione was surprised to see the village was much the same in 798 A.D. as it was more than a millenia in the future. Almost all of the shops were closed, however, and Hermione dismounted the horse with a light leaping movement, pulled her bow from her back and walked up the High Street, prepared for any attack. She heard whimpering as she neared Dervish and Banges, and her ears perked up as she whirled around. A hooded, cloaked and masked figure was walking slowly towards her, a wand clutched in his long-fingered hand. Hermione swallowed, calmly reached behind her back for an arrow, fitting it tightly against the bowstring and raised the bow, the string pressing into her fingertips that held the arrow, pulling back the string just past her ear.

"Leave this village, or you will die." She said, astonished at how steady her voice sounded. The man laughed, and she thought she'd heard that laugh before... perhaps it was the laugh of all Death Eaters... if they even had Death Eaters back in the Dark Ages.

"You've no skill with a bow and arrow, you are not--"

"I have more skill than you think," she said, inside thinking, What have you gotten yourself into, Hermione? If he doesn't kill you, it will be a miracle... you've never even picked up a bow and arrow in your life! Shut UP, I don't need to hear this now...

"You are not Rowena," the man said, drawing ever closer. Hermione's breath hitched and she pulled back the string even more, so far she was afraid it would snap at any minute.

"I have heard from Malise you are just a foolish young girl--" Hermione took aim, and let the arrow fly, and the man let out a loud, awful cry of pain. The arrow had not hit his heart, or his neck, but rather his left--his wand--hand.

"Run!" she shouted to the woman who had whimpered, who was slouched against an outside wall of a shop, her hands on her cheeks as she watched the scene before her eyes. The arrow glowed with a strange whitish-gold light, but the man ripped it from his hand and threw it on the ground, blood flowing freely from the wound, dripping on the ground, his wand on the cobblestone walkway as well as the arrow he'd torn from his hand. The woman started to race back towards the castle, but the man whirled around and threw out a greenish-black ball from his hand. Hermione whipped out another arrow from the quiver on her back and strung the bow, but she wasn't fast enough. The ball hit the woman in the back, and she fell to the ground. Hermione couldn't tell whether she was dead or not.

"If you're really Rowena," the man sneered, "where is the sword?"

"Like I'm going to tell someone who's of the likes of you?" she spat. "I don't think so."

"Just as I thought," she could hear the sneer in his voice.

"Even if I wasn't Rowena," said Hermione, trying to choose her words carefully, "I would never lower myself to your level by revealing the location of the sword to you." She raised the bow again, only it was to his heart this time.

"But surely you would not lower yourself to be a murderer, now would you? How could I forget, that's better than being a liar." He twirled his wand (which he'd gotten back with the Summoning Charm) in his right hand fingers.

"Rowena!" a voice called and the man Disapparated before her, leaving behind only his blood on the ground, and Hermione lowered the bow, turning to the voice that had called Rowena's name. It was a young woman, who had straight red hair that fell to the middle of her back and whose face was covered in freckles. Hermione was strongly reminded of Ginny Weasley.

"He's over here!" the woman called. Hermione quickly put the second arrow in the quiver, slung her bow once again across her back and headed toward the woman. The sound of a galloping horse met her ears as she and the redhaired woman walked along the edge of the battlefield, where the Death Eater-like creatures were Disapparating left and right, and abruptly stopped, the sound of feet landing lightly on the ground, walking up the grass... Hermione turned around just as he approached her, and let out a sigh of relief.

"Don't do that," she whispered as Draco started walking along beside her, both of them a couple of feet behind the redhaired woman so she wouldn't hear what they were saying, even though she probably would think nothing of it.

"Sorry, I... I wanted to follow you. Make sure you stayed all right. Was that your blood on the ground in the village?"

"Oh, gods, no," Hermione said. "A Death Eater. Or, rather, he was like one," she eyed him warily, but he just continued staring at the ground as they walked.

"We've arri--Master Farieni, w-when did you get here?" the woman blushed furiously as she turned around and her eyes fell on Hermione's "husband", and Hermione couldn't help coughing to cover up her giggle. The woman was too much like Ginny...

"Just now," said Draco. "I decided I should, erm, accompany Rowena."

"I've heard that you always are there when she helps one of the men." The woman said with admiration shining in her eyes. "A-are you two going to the ball?"

"What ball?" Draco asked while Hermione made her way over to the man, who lay on his back, blood flowing freely from a wound on his forehead, caused most likely by a curse. His skin was pale, his armor bloody and dented in certain spots from weapons. His eyelids fluttered open, and when Hermione put her hands on his heart, she could feel heat radiating steadily off of him.

"The one Headmaster Clarke said was tonight... you mean you didn't know?"

"Oh, um, of course I knew," Draco stammered, "I just... forgot."

"He's got a terrible fever," Hermione interrupted, feeling a bit peeved at the girl, "perhaps he shouldn't fight anymore." She looked up at the younger girl.

"Well, I--I don't know, Madam, they just told me to meet you and lead you to him."

"Well, tell 'them', whoever that is, that I said he is not to fight anymore until this fever goes away. I am going to transport him to the infirmary in the castle. If they have any problems, tell them to speak with me. I'll handle it." Hermione borrowed the girl's wand and whispered, "Wingardium Leviosa" after conjuring a cot beneath the man, and stood, the makeshift stretcher floating behind her as she walked to the horse Draco'd already mounted. He held out his hand and she used it to pull herself up in front of him, the stretcher now levitating beside the horse.

"Farewell," the girl called after Hermione and Draco set off.

Hermione tried not to pay too much attention to the fact that Draco's chest was against her back, his chin resting on her shoulder, but it was kind of hard as they trotted along to not notice... especially when his hand found its way around her waist to rest on her stomach. Hermione turned her head to look at him, but his eyes were closed, a slight smile tugging at his lips. She could've killed him, yet... she liked sitting like this with him so close against her. She would make sure they would go to the ball tonight.

...:::*:::...

"I confess I pray still to feel the touch of my lover's lips. His hands upon, his arms enfolding me."

Hermione stepped out from behind the screen and Draco's eyes widened as she slipped on a red shoe. She wore a matching red satin "outer dress", which was more like a slip-over dress that had open spots in the long bell sleeves, which exposed the white satin beneath, and gold trim lined the edges of the outer dress, which was stitched together from the waist down. The bodice she wore beneath, or the "under dress", was striped three or four inches apart (of what showed, which was just the torso part of it), with pearls in a line between every line of gold. The circlet Hermione wore was a ruby this time, and tiny sections of her hair on the sides had been braided around like a crown, and the rest of her hair had been plaited down her back, tied with a red silk ribbon at the end. Pearl teardrop earrings hung from Rowena's ears. She looked over at Draco and he smiled.

"You look very nice," he said.

"You mean Rowena looks very nice," she said, bending and pulling the other shoe out from beneath the bed. "I just picked out what she was going to wear."

"No, I mean you look very nice." She frowned and opened her mouth to say something, but the end-of-dinner bell rang, which meant it was time to head down to the hall. Hermione took Draco's arm and they walked out of the room together, Hermione smiling at his comment.

While Hermione and Draco revolved once the ball started and a slow song started playing, she started to notice everything about him being so close to her--the way his fingers were laced with hers, his hand against the small of her back, the way she could feel the heat of him through her dress (or was that her?), his cheek resting against her temple. He drew her against him so she could now feel his heart beating against her chest, his every breath making the tiny gem on her forehead move a bit, her heart jumping around crazily in her chest. She wondered how he would react if she...no, she would never...Oh, hell, you only live once, Granger, might as well make it interesting. Well, technically two, but-- YOU shut up.

Hermione then made the most influential decision she'd ever had to make, and if it was the wrong one, it didn't matter because she couldn't stand it any longer. She had to know what it was like to kiss him--to really kiss him, not with her mind elsewhere like it had been that day in the classroom. She put her hands on his shoulders, stood on her tiptoes and pressed Rowena's lips against Farieni's, memorizing the feel of them (though they weren't Draco's personally), the taste of them as her arms twined up around his neck, her fingers running through Farieni's. She was falling, slowly but surely, more and more in love with Draco as she kissed him with all of her heart, and she didn't care to ever come back up again. She would've been content just to stay in the Middle Ages forever, as Rowena and Farieni, but she knew deep in her heart it wouldn't be possible--even if they stayed, McGonagall would surely come back for them.

And even as Hermione realized this light tears coursed down her cheeks at this fact that she couldn't change, no matter how much she wanted to.

When Draco realized she was crying, he pulled back only just so their foreheads were touching and lifted a hand to her cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the smooth skin, feeling her heart beat against his, hearing her every breath and placing it in a special place in his memory where he would never forget.

"What's wrong?" he whispered, knowing full well what was wrong.

"I... I'm in love with you."