My Soul Mate

Chapter Seven - POuring the SOUL Out...

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Harry entered his dormitory for the lunch break as his second class was over. He found Ron sleeping on the bed next to his.

"Ron!"

Ron started awake on his bed, surprised. He blinked groggily. He hadn't meant to fall asleep while waiting for his best friend to get back from class, and it took a moment to get his bearings again.

"Hey, Harry!" he said, getting up.

"You're back so soon! So you got Hermione! Where is she? In her dormitory? With Dumbledore? Is she all right -"

"Harry!" shouted Ron over his friend's babble. "Calm down!"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, a dreaded feeling stirring in him and hope crumbling to despondency at Ron's grave face.

"Harry," said Ron somberly. "We didn't get Hermione."

The effect of those words on Harry could hardly be comprehended. In an instant, his face fell. It was as if one could see his heart shattering in his brilliant green eyes.

"They weren't there, Harry." began Ron but Harry held up a hand to silence him.

"Excuse me," said Harry, his voice oddly choked as he walked quickly out of the room.

Ron sighed. He knew that Harry was worried about Hermione too. But when it came to helping him with it, Ron didn't know how to handle the situation. He supposed that Harry loved Hermione too much. Ron was reflecting on Hermione when a school barn owl swooped in and dropped a letter on his bed and then took flight out of an open window.

Ron opened the letter and read it. It was from Dumbledore, asking him to meet him in the evening after his classes. He suspected that Dumbledore wanted to meet him regarding their next step in the mission. The thought failed to cheer Ron since he was worried about Harry. ____________________________________________________________________

Three Death Eaters Captured near Ethiopian Highlands, Africa

Three followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or more commonly known as Death Eaters, have been arrested in Africa, near the Ethiopian Highlands. There are namely Antonio Macnair, Avery Nott and Augustus Rookwood.

Macnair, who used to be the Executioner for the Department of the Disposal of Dangerous Beasts, until last year, when he was found to be allying with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, along with the ex-Auror-cum-spy, Rookwood and Nott, were found in a forlorn forest in north-eastern Africa. They were looking for today's one of the most wanted criminals, Draco L. Malfoy, wanted in connection with abduction of Hermione Granger (a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry) and a mysterious murder (about which, no is the wiser).

Ex-Auror Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, Sirius Black (Harry Potter's godfather and the popular survivor of the Veil) as well as a fellow student from Hogwarts, Ronald Weasley, had followed the Death Eaters to Africa on Albus Dumbledore's orders. They got wind about the possibility that Draco Malfoy and his hostage, Granger were in Africa.

However, neither the Death Eaters nor Albus Dumbledore's men were able to catch Malfoy. Where he is, along with Granger, is still unclear. Meanwhile, the captured Death Eaters are in Azkaban now (with the security tightened). Pr. Dumbledore refuses to answer the

Daily Prophet about how he got the information about the Death Eaters and what he will do next to retrieve his kidnapped student.

Miss Granger is described as one of the brightest witches Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There are conflicting reports as to how Mr. Malfoy managed to overcome the Professors on the scene in the abduction. Gossip has it that he has high magical prowess; there has been some suggestion that he had hidden his true strength in preparation for this day. Minister Fudge is quoted as saying, 'One can only hope that Miss Granger is able to keep herself safe until the Ministry captures that vile abductor, Malfoy. Certainly, if she could have escaped, she would have been back. I fear that in this case, no news means bad news.'

Lord Voldemort read the evening mail of The Daily Prophet disgustedly. He had sent Macnair, Nott and Rookwood to capture Draco Malfoy and they ended up getting captured themselves. Merlin, he thought spitefully, don't I have any proficient and competent Death Eaters?

Voldemort knew he didn't have any, well but he could always count on Bellatrix Lestrange; though that bitch was unable to get him the Prophecy from the Department of Mysteries. Then there was Lucius Malfoy, a truly capable Death Eater. But now, Voldemort had lost him too.

At present, Voldemort wanted to know the entire Prophecy made by Sybill Trelawney more than anything else. All that he knew now was that either him or Harry Potter, anyone could survive, and in order to do so, one will have to kill the other. Voldemort could kill him easily; he didn't have any problem with that, but how to get to Harry Potter?

He remembered his last and futile attempt at killing Harry. He had nearly done so, but Harry escaped, thwarting him again. But Voldemort still believed that the plan he had devised that year to get Harry was foolproof, had not that bungler Crouch overreacted. One of his mastermind plots had failed because of Crouch. But this time, he will not let that happen.

Voldemort was aware that he had hardly had any truly loyal Death Eaters left, and he could lose all of them in one shot if the Emancipation Potion of Alexander Malfoy got into their hands. The synopsis that bastard had written was enough to change anybody's mind against him. Whom could he trust? Whom could he depend upon?

Only one answer came to his mind. Bella...

He supposed that he could trust Bella with destroying that blasted book. While he focused on getting the Prophecy and killing Harry Potter.

No sooner was he thinking about Bellatrix Lestrange than she appeared.

"You wished to see me, my Lord?" she asked him quietly, opening a bit the door of the opulent room in the Riddle's house where Voldemort was seated in an armchair.

"Ah, yes, Bella," hissed Voldemort. "Do come in."

Bella entered the room, rather stealthily. "How can I be of service, my Lord?" she asked him.

Voldemort looked directly at her beautiful form. "Oh, sit down, Bella," he said. "I want to talk to you."

Bella sat herself, confused, on another armchair opposite to Voldemort.

"Have you read today's newspaper, Bella?" asked Voldemort.

"No, my Lord."

"Tut tut, Bella, you must keep up with the daily news."

Bella didn't have the spunk to tell him that she hadn't received her copy of the Daily Prophet. So, Voldemort continued.

"Here, Bella," he said, rather softly. "Read this."

He handed her The Daily Prophet and Bella read through the front news quickly. After reading, she looked at Voldemort's fiery red eyes, which were redundant.

"What do you think of this, Bella?"

"I think, my Lord, that it's highly inept and clumsy of these three."

"I am glad that you recognize what you see, Bella." said Voldemort.

"Thank you, my Lord."

"So you see, Bella," went on Voldemort, "I hardly have any adept and loyal Death Eaters left with me."

"Oh my Lord," said Bella calmly, "You have me."

"I know that I always had you," said Voldemort proudly. "You are different from all others, Bella. You stood up to me against those Ministry bastards during your trail; the only one who did so. Even Lucius Malfoy had turned traitor. But the fact remains, I don't have anybody else like you."

"Why do you need anybody else, my Lord?" said Bella. "You are supreme, no one can stand against you, and should anybody try, I will see to him."

"That's so generous of you, Bella." said Voldemort. Clearly, he considered killing his rivals generous and Bellatrix Lestrange was only too happy to do it for him.

"I am sworn to you, my Lord."

Voldemort didn't reply. Instead he got up. Bella followed suit courteously.

"Oh no, Bella," said Voldemort. "You sit down."

Bella sat down obediently. Voldemort walked to her chair and kneeled in front of her. Bella, confused and slightly nervous, didn't say anything.

"As I was saying, Bella," said Voldemort, his voice a mere whisper. "You are the only one who has proven to be loyal to me. And you are proficient as well."

"Thank -"

Voldemort cut her off. "You are more than a Death Eater to me, Bella," he said. "The Death Eaters are my family, and you rank high among them. Do you know what do you mean to me, Bella?"

He traced her cheek with one long finger. Bella swallowed, and shook her head, too taut to speak.

"You mean to me more than a Death Eater, more than a disciple," He was now tracing her red lips. "I cannot do with out you, Bella."

Bella looked at Voldemort, too shocked to respond. Could her master get attracted to her? This was one of her wildest dreams come true.

Voldemort grabbed her neck under her thick black hair and brought her lips crashing to his in a fiery manner. Bella's eyes widened in shock. She couldn't think anymore as her fled under the onslaught.

After a timeless moment, Voldemort broke the kiss. He leaned into her long neck and hissed, "I want you to do me a favor, Bella."

Gulping of air, Bella replied, "Anything for you, my Lord."

"You have to go to Hogwarts in disguise and fetch me a book from Dumbledore's study. Manumission from Servitude, do I make myself clear, Bella?"

Bella, too dazed to sink in what Voldemort said, replied as an instinct, "Of course, I will my Lord."

Voldemort pulled back and rubbed her collarbone. "I knew I could count on you, Bella. You will get the book and not read its contents, because you know I will know if you do so. If you succeed, you will become my mistress."

Bella gasped. This was too good to be true. "Your wishes will be completed, my Lord." she promised.

Voldemort kissed her again once more before telling her to go and start her sortie. After she was gone, he sat on her chair, speculating about where to it would all lead. He needed the goodwill of his Death Eaters, especially Bella's. She could be his harlot - he didn't give a goddamned care about that.

But now, he must work on killing Harry Potter.

____________________________________________________________________

Hermione watched a crimson sun sink under the horizon, behind the endless stretch of greenery. It was late in the evening and had been raining all day, stopping only a few hours ago. She was sitting on the bed in the closed bedroom, staring out of the window. Her mind was restless and she obviously wasn't her usual sanguine self.

Draco's words late that very morning had left her astonished and puzzled. She had got him to answer some of her questions and not by inveigling him - he was simply drunk. But the answers were to the trivial questions Hermione had. Her main question wasn't answered yet. She wanted to know why Hagrid was killed.

At least, she knew that the whole unfortunate mishap revolved around the book, Manumission from Servitude, which was with Dumbledore. Hermione knew that the book was a precious one, but why, she didn't. The book was on the different magical ways of liberating oneself from slavery. But why would Draco Malfoy want it? Whom was he bound to?

That was quite simple to answer.

Lord Voldemort.

But why had Lucius Malfoy wanted Draco to get that book? Did he want to keep his only son away from Voldemort? To think that the Malfoys wanted to break free of the Dark Lord was ludicrous.

But then, hadn't Draco been hiding from the Death Eaters?

Hermione was torn between those two sides and she needed an answer. She wanted to know what dubious affair was going on that resulted in the death of one of her friends. She wanted a straight and direct answer. And no, she decided firmly, she wasn't going to beguile Draco Malfoy for that - she would ask him straightaway and would not give up until she was satisfied.

So with a fierce and new determination, Hermione got up from her bed and marched into the living room, hoping that Draco would not be drunk again.

She entered the living room to find Draco leaning on the exit door, staring into the darkness, looking quite pensive. Without a word she pulled out a chair and sat on it, making sure she had scraped it loud enough to catch Draco's attention.

She did. Draco turned his head sharply to see what had caused the noise and was quite surprised to see Hermione sitting on it, looking rather set.

"Granger," he acknowledged warily and Hermione noticed a trait of tiredness in his voice.

"Yes, Malfoy," said Hermione in a soft voice. "Glad that you're back to normal."

"What do you mean?"

"You aren't drunk and you are not calling me 'Mione anymore."

Draco gaped at her. "I had called you 'Mione?" he asked unbelievingly. "You're kidding."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"I don't blame you, Malfoy," said Hermione with all the finality she could muster, but making sure her tone sounded slightly revolted, yet amused. "You were even confused what your name was and insisted that I call you Draco."

Draco was caught off guard by her words, but more when she said his first name. He hadn't even heard Pansy say his name so sensually.

"Well," he reasoned. "Drinking can make people do funny things."

"I don't disagree," said Hermione. "But some of the things you said were not funny at all."

Draco stared at her. Did she mean that he had expressed the carnal thoughts about her?

"Okay, Granger," he said apologetically. "If I had something offensive or something that would you rather not listen to, then pardon me, I was out of my mind."

"That is what intriguing, Malfoy," said Hermione coolly. "You didn't say anything offensive," Draco looked a bit relaxed. "Except that you called me a Mudblood again."

Draco looked at Hermione impassively.

"And there is more, Malfoy," continued Hermione. "You apologized for doing so," Draco raised his eyebrows. "And confessed that you never meant to insult my muggle heritage."

"What! I was out my mind."

Hermione looked at him and smiled a bit. "You weren't lying, Draco," she said softly. "I saw it in your eyes."

Draco gaped at her, at a complete loss of words. Did she use his first name? And she saw it in his eyes?

"I think you're drunk, Granger," he said bluntly. "I would never in my right mind do that!"

"You know very well that I am not drunk, Draco."

"Stop using my first name."

"You wanted me to."

"I didn't know what I was saying, for Merlin's sake!"

"Then what about Manumission from Servitude?"

"I don't know -"

Draco stopped as he realized what Hermione had just said. "Who told you about that?" he roared.

Hermione didn't even flinch at Draco's tone. "You." she said simply.

Draco gawked wordlessly at her. "I don't be-believe it," he croaked.

"Draco," said Hermione calmly. "Please sit down here. I want to talk to you."

Draco was as still as a statue.

"Draco, please ... please," said Hermione.

"I don't want to talk to you, Mudblood." hissed Draco venomously.

Hermione insisted. "But you need someone to talk to," she pressed. "You know you do."

"No I don't!"

"You need someone to hear out your side of the story, someone to understand you."

"Shut up!" spit Draco.

"Draco, I beg you ... believe me, this will prove beneficial."

Draco looked directly at her expectant eyes and the inviting twinkle in them made him give in.

"All right," he said. "But if I find you're wasting my time, then you'll regret it, Granger."

"Fine," said Hermione. "Now sit down."

Draco obeyed her and walked across the room and sat himself on a chair opposite to Hermione.

"Now answer me truthfully, Draco," said Hermione. "You want Manumission from Servitude, right?"

"No I don't!"

"You proved that you do a minute ago!"

"Fine, I do."

Hermione took a deep breath. He's going to be stubborn, she thought.

"Why do you want it?" she asked him.

Draco smirked at her derisively. "Why will I tell that to you, Granger?" he sneered. "Of all the people."

"There are no other people," said Hermione.

"I never realized you that you have been keeping an eye on my personal life, Granger." said Draco coldly. "You're talking crap and I find you're wasting my time as well."

With that, he got up.

Hermione grabbed his wrist and looked at him with pleading eyes. "Hear me out," she said. "Please..."

One look at her amber eyes and Draco had to give in. "All right..." he sighed and sat down, shaking her hand off, though he did like the velvety, soft feeling of her skin.

"I don't have to spy on your personal life, Draco," said Hermione. "Everybody knows that the great Draco Malfoy has nobody in the world that he could consider as a friend."

Draco didn't answer, but he was taken aback by the truth of her words.

"If you find me indulging in your personal life abhorrent, then tell me and I'll stop. I am not highly interested, I want to talk business."

"No go on, I never had heard such a fascinating lecture," said Draco acidly, but he knew that Hermione was right.

Hermione chose to ignore his comment. Instead, she continued as if he never spoke, "Please tell me Draco, why do you want Manumission from Servitude? I know that's a potion book about the different ways on liberating oneself from slavery. And you can't possible use it for any other reason except for unfettering yourself from some sort of bondage. Tell me Draco, why?"

Draco stared at Hermione. In an instant, he knew that he was wrong in underestimating that girl; she was smart. But the thing that he found surprising was how much she did understand him. No one else had it this way. The only other person who had understood him was his mother. He couldn't believe that a Mudblood Gryffindor understood him. He almost felt like confessing to her, since she was one of those few people who ever tried to understand him or succeeded in doing so.

"Okay, Granger," he said at last. "I guess telling this won't hurt, cause I'll have to tell everything later to the Wizengamot too. All right, I want that blasted book to be free of the only bondage that I bear, which you very well know - from Voldemort."

Hermione had expected this but it did come as a shock to her. "But why?"

"What do you think I am, Granger?" said Draco putting up his hands in exasperation. "A slave? A servant? Well, you're wrong if you think that I am. I can think for myself and I don't need the hideous guidance of a maniac like Voldemort for life, if you can call that life. I am proud and upright and it's below a Malfoy to serve someone."

"Your father -" started Hermione but Draco cut her off.

"He was a bastard alright! You don't have to remind me that. He never particularly cared for me. He was mean and cold, but for Merlin's sake, he was human. He could think for himself too. But there is no turning back once you are sworn to Voldemort. He was forced to serve him till death. Like a mere house-elf!"

"Then how do you plan to turn your back on Voldemort?"

"My father told me about it," said Draco, now calming down a bit. "He was in his deathbed in Azkaban when I visited him. He told me about Manumission from Servitude and the Emancipation Potion."

"The what?"

"The Emancipation Potion, that's the only way you can get rid of Voldemort's bondage, because you'll loose the Dark Mark on drinking it," explained Draco. "And its recipe is only in the last copy of Manumission from Servitude, which is with Dumbledore. That is why I want it!"

"Does this mean that you actually don't want to be a Death Eater?" asked Hermione slowly, looking a bit shaken.

Draco exhaled deeply. "You say you read my eyes," he whispered to her. "Do it again and tell me if you think I'm lying."

Hermione stared deeply into the pools of blue and grey. The colors seemed to swirl earnestly. Hermione knew that she was imaging subconsciously, but she that couldn't deny what she felt.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Both of them simply kept staring at each other. Hermione couldn't believe it. She was being civil towards her archenemy ... her abductor ... someone who had insulted her, her family and friends for the past five years and killed Hagrid.

"It's hard to believe," murmured Hermione. "Even though I want to. I desperately want to think that you are not what you seem to be."

Draco gaped at her. Did she mean that she believed in him?

"Why would you believe me?" he asked, leaning forwards.

"Because I know you're telling the truth ... I can feel it ... it's written across your face. And anyway, you have proof, otherwise why will you want to hide from the Death Eaters?"

Draco smiled before he could stop himself. He couldn't believe that he had convinced someone, muggle-born or not, Gryffindor or not. Might be he would be successful in the Wizengamot too. But all his optimistic feelings vaporized at Hermione's next question.

"Draco," she asked tentatively. "Why did you kill Hagrid?"

Draco pursed his lips and clenched his teeth. But then, Hermione had a right to know, Hagrid was her friend.

"Promise me," he said. "That you'll believe me this time too."

"I can't promise that until I see the reason behind it as rational."

Draco sighed. What did he expect? Hermione to believe in her archenemy blindly? But one day, he'll have to answer the world, so it wouldn't hurt tell her. "I never killed Hagrid deliberately," he said at the confused expression forming on Hermione's face. "I was asking him about Manumission from Servitude and I pleaded him to give it to me, because I knew he had it. I knew for a fact that Dumbledore had trusted Hagrid with the book and I expected him to do some inquiry on it. He did. He asked Borgin from Knockturn Alley. I had tried to talk to him in Knockturn Alley itself, but all that he did was insult me and refuse point blank. I tried to Apparate him to a private place but I was so tensed up that I forgot that his giant heritage had altered his magical aura. He just ... splinched into two..."

Hermione looked away when she felt tears starting to roll down uncontrollably.

"Hermione..." whispered Draco, gently putting his hand on hers, trying to be considerate. "You believe me, don't you?"

Hermione was surprised to hear Draco address her by her first name, but that didn't make her feel any better. When he laid his cold hand on her, she looked up at him through her maudlin eyes and choked out accusingly, "Yo-you were reck-reckless..."

Draco's grip on her hand tightened. "Hermione," he said solemnly. "I'm sorry ... I never meant to."

"I suppose so," said Hermione, withdrawing her hand from Draco's. "Everybody makes mistakes. But please excuse me."

Draco watched helplessly as Hermione rushed out of the living room into the bedroom, shutting the door close behind her. He never expected to reveal himself like this to a Mudblood ... to a Gryffindor. Draco bit his lip when he thought of her as dirty blood. Well, she said it; he never had any prejudice against her for being a muggle-born witch. He supposed that there was more to the girl than he had ever thought and he liked it. He certainly felt less burdened now, having poured some of his soul out to someone. And if he managed to convince her, he might be able to do so with the Wizengamot too. But right now, he was feeling guilty again and involuntarily, the woody area scene, where he had buried Hagrid, popped into his mind.