My Soul Mate

Chapter Six - IntOxicatiOn and Rains...

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"What have you two gotten me into?" asked a frustrated Macnair. They had been searching for Draco Malfoy for the past half an hour only to find neither hide nor hair of him. "The Dark Lord will kill me if I disappoint him," grumbled Macnair worriedly.

"You can't blame us, Macnair," said Rookwood harshly. "Malfoy might not have come here at all. He could be at St. Mungo's for all I care..."

"Oh, you should care," sneered Macnair. "You wouldn't want to fail in the Dark Lord's eyes again, would you, Rookwood?"

Ever since the blunder he had committed the year before in the Department of Mysteries, Rookwood's position among the Death Eaters had sunk considerably lower.

"Rookwood," said Nott reasonably. "We are serious. We don't want to return empty handed. The Dark Lord wouldn't be pleased..."

"But you are not returning to your Dark Lord anymore," growled a voice behind the three Death Eaters.

Surprised, the three Death Eaters spun around to find Sirius Black and Alastor Moody behind them, their wands out in their stretched hands. Before they had time to respond, Macnair, Nott and Rookwood were Stunned.

"Cool!" cheered Ron, a few metres away, since he hadn't looked forward to attack the Death Eaters. He looked at Stunned Death Eaters with satisfaction. "Neat!" he said.

"Bloody idiots," said Sirius pent-up in frustration. "This was an absolute waste of time, Moody, coming after these numbskulls. They don't even know where Malfoy is."

"Not complete waste, Sirius," said Moody with a nasty and very ugly grin. "At least we caught three Death Eaters."

"But I am more worried about Hermione," said Sirius. "Harry would have liked us to go back with her."

"We'll catch Malfoy soon, Sirius. But I think we need to go back to Hogwarts. Granger and Malfoy have gone to ground and we have three Stunned Death Eaters with us. Better to dispose of them with Albus. Heaven knows, he might see to them being more securely shut up this time. I guess that we will have start all over again then."

There was a moment of silence during which Moody looked worried.

"Anything troubling you, Alastor?" asked Sirius.

"I was thinking, Sirius," said Moody thoughtfully, "It is getting dangerous for Weasley to come with us."

"But Dumbledore -"

"Albus worries too much, I tell you. He is under a lot of strain, though I do not say that he is not up to the job. But he is really old, and he does sometimes make mistakes. Anyway, how can we let Weasley miss his classes, when advanced courses are about to begin? And next year he has got to take his NEWTs."

"Well, Dumbledore said that as it is only the beginning of the term. Ron can afford to miss some of his classes. Anyway, let him have some real world experience, rather than just classroom room learning. James and I always looked forward to true adventure."

"And I know what consequences you had faced. Don't you understand that it is dangerous for him to come with us? Potter's already lost Granger, and god knows what has happened to her. If anything happens to Weasley..."

"Dumbledore thinks Ron is safe with us!" Sirius argued.

It was indeed him who had contacted Dumbledore and pleaded him to include Harry and Ron in the missionary, in a spirit of adventure. Dumbledore had refused point blank about Harry but after much coaxing, agreed to include Ron.

"We cannot guarantee what will happen to ourselves in this catch-and-cook game, let alone ensure somebody else's safety," growled Moody. "Do you want to be the one to tell Molly that her son was injured or dead because we brought him on a hunt to capture an abductor?"

Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but was quieted at Moody's logic. It was true...

"Understand, Sirius," said Moody reasonably. "If anything happens, Potter will go crazy ... for the sake of Harry, Sirius, we need to leave Weasley at Hogwarts."

Sirius didn't answer and instead looked very interested at the cloudy sky.

Moody took Sirius's silence for a yes.

"Come on, Weasley," he called to Ron, "We are going back."

Ron came walking towards him and after a moment during which Moody secured the Death Eaters with them, the three Apparated back to Hogwarts.

____________________________________________________________________

Draco looked at Hermione's doleful form on the chair. He did feel sorry for her ... she had done nothing to deserve such misery. It is a series of unfavorable circumstances, he told himself, a bit surprised that he found himself pitying a Mudblood. A series of unfavorable circumstances for all.

Even though he tried to console himself, Draco could still not help feeling sad for Hermione. Mudblood Gryffindor or not, what she was going through would be difficult for anyone. Even though Draco didn't have any loved ones now, save for his mother, he had a good idea how it felt like when one was torn apart from one's family and friends. He had experience with that...

Whenever he was depressed, Draco always took refuge in drinking. Getting intoxicated helped him relieve his anxiety for a while. But he didn't know if Hermione preferred drinking, knowing her to be the goody-two-shoes she sometimes tended to be. Or rather, all the time.

Nonetheless, he couldn't see her in such distress either. He didn't know why, but he felt sick at the sight ... It could have been guilt, he reasoned, since he was the cause behind all her current problems.

Draco was disturbed when a flash of lightning thundered outside. He looked out into the sky to find heavy and dark nimbus clouds screening the bright sun's rays. It was nothing surprising; it often rained, and rained torrentially, most of the time in such tropical regions. But if it started raining now, it would go on for hours on end and it would become difficult for Hermione and Draco to get back to the house. Draco would rather now have gone back.

Turning to Hermione, he saw her dabbing her eyes, which on a bit of more inspection seemed red, on a white cloth.

"Er, Granger..." he said tentatively. "I think its going to rain, so I suggest we go back ... now."

Hermione nodded without any coaxing, much to Draco's relief. She got up and picked up her robe and draped it around her, snapping the metal clasp shut.

A bit surprised at her demeanor, Draco followed suit. Together, they set off for the house, but not before giving a last look at the beautiful dragon engraved on the outside of the cave.

Hermione had restrained herself from breaking down in front of Draco. She didn't want him to think she was a weakling. And as much for her consolation, she still had hope that Sirius, Moody and Ron would find her, sooner or later. They would never give up. Sweet of Ron, really, she thought, to give up his classes at such a crucial time to come and find her. But she was intrigued by how they knew where Draco and she were. Might be that they got wind from the Death Eaters.

The word 'Death Eaters' struck Hermione with a certain unpleasant thought

Seducing Draco Malfoy...

Hermione had almost forgotten about it since the events of last night, when she and Draco were coming to the hut from the house. It was clear that she abhorred that particular idea, but for Hagrid's sake, she felt she had to do it. It was laughable to hope that Draco would answer her earnestly without any inducing.

Lightning thundered again. Hermione stopped behind Draco to look up at the sky. Dark clouds were spread from the east to the west horizon, obscuring the light. And before you could say 'rain' it was a downpour.

Raindrops the size of bullets shot down heavily onto the ground. Hermione, her face still facing up, closed her eyes and let the cold water splash against her skin. She smiled. Ever since her childhood, she had loved being out in the rain - the only thing she ever did against her parents' wishes. The water was refreshing and it washed away her sorrows and worries.

But Draco could barely keep his eyes open in the rain. He tugged his robe tighter around his body, trying to ward off the chill of the water. He walked slowly, but apart from the thundering and heavy patter of rain, he thought that there were no sounds of footsteps following. He turned around to check on Hermione and he found her twenty feet behind, looking up (or at least that was what he thought she was doing). She was smiling and breathing deeply.

"Granger!" he called, running back towards her. Here he was, worrying that he would be caught, and this imbecile girl was enjoying the rain.

"Granger, what are you doing?" he asked her loudly in an attempt to make himself audible against the roaring of the winds.

Hermione looked at him and smiled even broadly. "Can't you see Malfoy?" she said in an equally loud voice. "I love getting soaked in the rain."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You'll enjoy the rain later, Granger," he said sternly, even though he was fascinated by her attitude, "We need to go."

"Come on, Malfoy," said Hermione sweetly. "I didn't have a bath today."

"You'll take your bath at the house Granger, let's go!"

Hermione pouted. "Please..."

"This can cost me my life, Granger," said Draco in exasperation. "And the last thing I expected from you is immaturity."

He made to grab Hermione's arm but she shook him off. Before he could even respond, Hermione was unclasping her robe and within a few seconds she took it out, standing before him, wearing the white shirt and the grey skirt.

Draco groaned. "Granger, I don't want to see you bathing."

Hermione scowled at him. "As if I want you to!" she snapped back at him.

Draco sighed. He needed to get out of the place and this girl was risking his life for the sake of the rains.

"Okay, Granger," he said in a compromising tone. "If you go with me to the house now, I'll let you soak in the rain on the roof. Please, deal!"

"No, I won't go now!"

"I'll join you if you want, but please, Granger. Come on!"

Hermione grinned at him. "Promise?" she asked.

"I swear!"

"Okay let's go."

And Hermione marched cheerfully across him.

Draco groaned again. To be out with her in the rain; that seriously crimped his dignity. He had never thought of relishing the rain and now he would have to do it with a Muggle-born.

Muggle-born?

Mudblood, he meant.

"Come on, Malfoy!" yelled Hermione, turning back. "Let's get before the rains pass!"

Grunting, Draco followed her. Occasionally, he stole glances at her while walking. She had a smile plastered to her pretty face as if she had just done the best bargain in her life.

Of course, thought Draco acidly, this would be something to tell her friends when she got back. Draco Malfoy was merrymaking in the rain with someone he considered to be the most pathetic Mudblood...

But that was not worst of it. He couldn't help notice how her porcelain face paled more in the rain and her reddish-brown hair came out of the French braid, sticking to her high cheekbones and long neck. As his eyes trailed downward on her body, he noticed her brassiere, very prominent as her shirt stuck to her body.

Draco couldn't get his eyes off that sight. He never knew that she had such a beautifully formed bosom. The kind of bust men dreamed of...

He shook his head at those carnal thoughts. How could he think such erotic things about a Mudblood Gryffindor? This was nauseating.

But barely after a minute, he found himself staring at Hermione's long, slender legs in drop rhythmic motion. Since when did Hermione Granger develop slim legs? he wondered.

Drop it, he thought disgustedly. She's a Mudblood!

But she had got a sensual body, too, no doubt.

Draco grunted derisively at himself. He needed to exercise self-control. Hermione was innocent and he would bet his broomstick that she would never want him visualizing himself bedding her. He felt rather guilty.

Turning to Hermione, he said, "Granger, wear your robe, otherwise you'll catch a cold."

"Doesn't matter, Malfoy," said Hermione nonchalantly. "I, I mean, we are both going to have the shower of our lives today."

"Isn't this enough?"

"No!"

"Fine, Granger! But please wear your robe!"

"Alright, if it bothers you so much."

Hermione put on her robe. However, she wasn't fooled. She had felt Draco's stare burning into her body as they had walked. She had shuddered then and silently prayed him to look away. He hadn't, but when he ordered her to wear her robe, she had been the most surprised. He had sounded ... almost decent.

Hermione snorted - Draco Malfoy, decent towards a Mudblood? Wasn't this the same Draco Malfoy who had threatened to use the Imperius Curse on her and make her strip the very last day?

And the very Draco Malfoy who had thanked you last night and promised to enjoy himself out in the rains with you, regardless of you being a Muggle-born

, a small voice from a distant chamber in her mind said.

Hermione didn't know, but this was going to lead her to such a state of affairs that she had never expected to be possible...

____________________________________________________________________

"Alastor," said Dumbledore leaning forwards from his chair as he saw Mad-Eye Moody come through the oak door of his office. "I did not expect you so soon."

"I didn't expect myself to return so soon either," grunted Moody, as he strutted over to Dumbledore's table and took a seat. "Anyway, listen to this Albus. We did not find Granger or Malfoy in that blasted place, but we captured the three Death Eaters who went there too. Macnair, Nott and Rookwood."

"Where are they?" asked Dumbledore, a bit surprised and somber. "And Sirius and Ron?"

"Weasley is in his dormitory, waiting for Potter to finish his classes and Sirius is in the Staff Room, with those Death Eaters we detained."

"And no sign about Hermione or Draco Malfoy?"

"I am afraid not, Albus."

Dumbledore remained silent for a few minutes, his brows knit in deep thought. After a moment, he said, "We'll see to that later, Alastor, but I first need to arrange the Death Eaters' transportation to Azkaban."

"And ensure better security."

"Ah, of course. I won't let Voldemort unfetter any more of them."

"And Albus," said Moody. "I suggest you hold back Weasley from coming with us any longer. I hope you understand -"

"I do, Alastor," cut off Dumbledore. "I think I just wanted to take some measures that would satisfy Harry and Ron. I daresay, I have disappointed them, especially Harry, too many times."

"Some of their disappointments were completely cases of adolescence," said Moody soothingly. "All know that you had acted for the best whenever things came you. And you know very well that you have to do again..."

Dumbledore looked suddenly very sad. "I would rather not talk about it now, Alastor. Let's go down to the Staff Room."

So without any more words, both of them headed downstairs. But Dumbledore knew, 'that' was inevitable without Harry dying...

____________________________________________________________________

"I don't believe you, Granger," said Draco exasperatedly, taking his dripping robe off as they reached the snug living room of the house. "We are soaked to the skin and cold as hell. And you still want more of the rain."

Hermione scowled at him. "What would you know Malfoy," she snapped at him. "About the bliss of dousing in pure water? You stay in hideous dungeons for ten months a year and go back to your even more hideous manor for the other two months."

Draco glowered at her. "I would prefer spending my summer in one of the most glorious manors of Britain to a crooked and collapsible hut like Weasleys. And I would also prefer staying here warm to freezing to my bones, thank you very much."

"But you promised!" said Hermione, ignoring Draco's comment against the Weasleys as she didn't want any more rows with him.

"Come on, Granger. Can't this wait? This rain won't stop for hours on end now."

Hermione looked at him, disappointed. But then, Draco did have a point. It rained almost ten hours a day in the equatorial climatic regions. Yet the idea of telling Harry and Ron that Draco had been playing in the rains was so tempting.

Hermione supposed that this could wait. "Alright," she said. "But it's only a delay, you get me?"

Draco nodded.

"I'm going to go dry myself, Malfoy."

"Go on," said Draco. Anything to get away from that lewd body, he added to himself.

Hermione stalked away to the bedroom. She locked the door behind her and waved her wand. Almost immediately, a neat and dry, white spaghetti top and a black skirt materialized on the bed. She quickly changed into those and left her drenched clothes on the bed stand. She looked around. The room was extremely dusty and had a suffocating atmosphere with the windows closed.

With a flick of her wand, the room became perfectly tidy. Hermione opened the doors and let the fresh and sweet smelling air rush into the roomette. She breathed in deeply. It was raining so hard that it blocked the stretches of green trees outside almost out of view. Nevertheless, Hermione loved the vista from the windows.

But in spite of this, she could not help but sob silently. It wasn't as if her life was miserable. But it seemed that she was in a deep chasm, unable to find her way out. Things that she valued the most in her life - family and her friends - were so far away, unable to reach her and help her. And then, the character of Draco Malfoy intrigued her so much. Again, her mind started buzzing with the same unanswerable questions.

Hermione tore her eyes away from the rains and looked around the room again. Her eyes fell on her dank clothes. She swished her wand and in an instant, they were dry again. She started folding her clothes, and when she was doing so, a piece of parchment fell from her robes.

Hermione recognized it at once as the recipe for some sort of potion, written in Ancient Runes. She wondered if she should interpret it then, but her mind was so engrossed in anxiety that she supposed she would get them all wrongly deciphered. So she pocketed the vellum again and walked out of the room, to see what Draco was doing. She needed to seduce him and get the answers, so she might as well get done with it.

But as soon as she saw Draco, she at once wished she hadn't entered the living room.

Draco was sitting on one of the chairs, shirtless. His shirt and robes were flung over the divan. He had his head buried in his arms, resting on the table. And there was a large chalice with some dark liquid in it.

In spite of herself, Hermione walked up to him and picking up the glass, sniffed the liquid in it.

It was some sort of drink, probably rum.

Disgusted, she slammed the glass down. So Draco was a drunkard, she mused.

Draco's head shot up, from the clink of the glass. He looked up to see Hermione standing in front of him, glowering. His blonde hair was in disarray, as though he had been wildly running his hands through it and his grey eyes were out of focus.

"You've been drinking, Malfoy?" she asked sharply.

Draco had difficulty in following her words. When he realized, he mumbled, "Yeah."

"That's so noisome of you!"

Draco furrowed his eyebrows, wondering what the hell she was saying. Her voice seemed distant in comparison to the voices of his father and his uncle inside his head.

"Wh...what do you mean?" he asked her.

"Do you drink often?" asked Hermione sternly.

After a moment, Draco answered, "No ... it's been lately, after..."

The next few words were slurred and Hermione could not hear a single one, let alone understand anything. But she noticed how rueful Draco's voice seemed, as if he was taking refuge in drinking, like people often do when they are too distressed.

Hermione supposed this could be the same thing with him too. She pulled a chair and seated herself next to him.

"How much did you drink?" she asked him.

"This was perhaps the ... er ... fourth glass."

"Fourth glass! Why did you drink so much?"

"To keep my mind of it..."

"Of what?" asked Hermione curiously.

"Manu-shun from Servy-thingy..."

"I don't get you, Malfoy."

"Whose Malhoy?"

"Malfoy," said Hermione. "It's you."

"Oh!" said Draco, his eyes out of focus. "I thought I was Draco."

"You are Draco," said Hermione, rolling her eyes but smiling at him all the same.

"But you said I'm Malhoy." replied Draco, confused.

"You are Draco Malfoy."

"How is that possible?" said Draco irked. "You're puzzling me."

Hermione shook her head in defeat. "Alright," she said. "You are Draco."

"And you are 'Mione."

"I am Granger."

"Ginger?" said Draco, confused again. "I thought you were 'Mione."

"Oh right," said Hermione beaten. "I am Hermione. Thanks for bringing it to my notice."

Draco looked at her and stretched lazily. She was wearing very revealing clothes. The top she had on her, laid her shoulder bare almost completely. He found the way her pristine skin shone in the vague light very alluring. He wanted to grab her and bite into that skin, devour it.

Meanwhile, Hermione gaped at Draco's torso as stretched in lassitude. He had a very well toned and smooth muscluar chest. Hermione shook her head the instant she realized what she was doing, only to find Draco staring at her chest.

"Melon..." whispered Draco. "Ripe melon..."

Hermione glared at him, but she couldn't help but blush. She looked away.

And then suddenly, Draco said, frustrated, "How do I get it?"

"Melon?" asked Hermione furiously.

"No..." said Draco, wondering now why she was talking about fruits. "That book Dumbly has."

"Dumbly? You mean Dumbledore?"

"Yes, him."

"You want a book from Dumbledore?" asked Hermione. By now, she was completely sure that Draco was totally out of his mind. He wanted a book, was that all?

"Yes," slurred Draco sadly. "Father wanted me to get it..."

Hermione had a change of mind. Perhaps Draco wasn't out of his mind completely. "Your father?" she prompted him delicately.

"Yeah ... that bastard."

"Malfoy!"

"What?" asked Draco, distracted. "And why did you call me Malhoy again?"

"You called your father a bastard!"

Draco bit his lip. He didn't understand what Hermione was saying, but her tone made it clear that he must have said something offensive.

"Sorry..." he whispered. "Did I call you a muddy again?"

"Muddy? Mudblood?" asked Hermione, bewildered. Draco nodded. "No you called -"

"I am so sorry," Draco went on, oblivious to Hermione's words. "I don't actually mean to insult you ... or you parents."

"What?" asked Hermione, shocked.

"To piss you off..." mumbled Draco. "Because you are Potty's girlfriend."

"I am not Harry's girlfriend," said Hermione impatiently. "But do you really don't mean to hurt me?"

Draco slowly shook his head. "Did I ever tell you that you're very beautiful?" he asked her.

Hermione blushed again. Now she was sure that Draco wasn't out of his mind. Draco wasn't the first one to tell her that she was pretty.

"No," she told him shyly.

"Well, I do now!" said Draco, looking a bit aghast. "You are very, very beauteeful, 'Mione."

"Er ... well, thanks, Mal-Draco."

For some moments, none of them spoke. Hermione was flattered, but she still had on mind the answers from Draco, and she was more startled when he said his father wanted a book from Dumbledore.

"Draco," she said calmly, laying a hand on his. "What book do you want?"

"Manu-shun..."

"What, Draco, I don't understand!"

"Manu...shun, 'Mione ... Manu ... me ... shun."

"Manumission?" prompted Hermione.

"Yes that," muttered Draco. "Manumission from Servi..."

Hermione gasped. She didn't need Draco to complete the sentence. "You want to say, Manumission from Servitude, Draco?" she asked him.

"That's what my old man had said, 'Mione."

Hermione knew that Manumission from Servitude was a book of potions on the different ways of getting liberated magically from slavery and bonds. Snape had once mentioned this book in their fifth year and Hermione had been quite surprised when she had learnt that the book had only one copy. Snape hadn't said who had the copy, anyway. For some minutes, there was complete silence during which Hermione strained herself to remember more and Draco buried his head in his arms again.

"But why do you need it?" asked Hermione suddenly.

There was no answer.

"Draco," urged Hermione. "Draco, tell me, why do you need it?"

Again there was no answer. Hermione shook Draco, only to find him sound asleep.