The Keeper Of My Heart

THE KEEPER OF MY HEART

Chapter 4 - What Lies Beneath

Draco apparated at Hogsmeade and tried to blend in with the early morning crowd, but he wasn't quick enough, someone recognized him.

"Well, if it isn't Witch Weekly's Top Bad Boy himself, Mr. Draco Malfoy."

His whole body tense, Draco turned to the direction of the voice. His gaze fell towards a raven-haired, brown-eyed woman who was wearying an acid green robe, a Quick-Quotes Quill on her left hand and a parchment on the other.

When Draco didn't speak, she took his silence as a sign to continue. "Were you aware that a certain ex-girlfriend of yours, Miss Pansy Parkinson, was quoted saying that you are one heartless bastard," she said, sliding an appraising glance at him. "Care to comment on that?"

For a moment, Draco merely stared blankly at the woman who was looking at him with barely hidden interest. Then recognition dawned on him. She was Dasani Gladcliff, Rita Skeeter's inquisitive assistant.

"I don't give a snitch what she's been saying about me," said Draco, his tone icy as he leveled his steely gaze on her. "If I were you, I'll quickly dispose the garbage your Quick-Quotes Quill has written or else..."

The imminent threat in his voice made her crumple the parchment immediately. Draco, still not satisfied, took the crumpled sheet and promptly pocketed it. He turned on his heel and left the reporter scowling behind his back. After walking past the Pub, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure Skeeter's protégéé wasn't following him. When he reached the back alley, he took off on his broom in haste, and as he hurried towards the lake, the image of a helpless Hermione trapped inside a coffin at the bottom of the lake kept flashing before his very eyes. Grimly, he fought off the vision by focusing on his destination.

When he was almost near the lake, he didn't land immediately. Instead, he hovered for a minute or so, scanning the surrounding area for any signs of Goyle and the others who might be guarding the lake. When he found none, he landed noiselessly on the grassy patch near the lake. Careful not leave any signs of his presence, Draco transfigured his broom into a moldy stone and performed the Bubble-Head Charm on him, then dived neatly into the lake. He let out a loud hiss. The early morning temperature made the water icy cold and it felt like tiny needles pricking mercilessly against his skin. Gritting his teeth, he pressed on until his body had adjusted to the water temperature. Strong even strokes brought him to the bottom. He searched through the eerily grey-lit water around him.

The minutes seemed to ticked by endlessly as he swam furiously past the forest of tangled black weed. His strokes strong and powerful. Amidst the murky water, a school of fish swam ahead, their silvery fins glimmered as Draco continued on. He carefully stayed away from the patch of green weeds where Grindylows were mostly lurking. For two hours, Draco searched patiently for any sign of the coffin Goyle had mentioned. He found none. Even the mermen and mermaids, who live deep down the lake, were not in sight as he went past the merpeople village.

"Did you hear that?" one of the men muttered.

"It's probably just the Giant Squid."

Draco tensed when he heard the voices. He peered through the clump. Just as he had suspected, it was Borgin Bletchley and Marcus Flint.

Flint was crouched near the water's edge, his narrowed eyes fixed intently at the ripples visible across the lake's surface. After a few moments, he stood up, and picked up a pebble then hurled it across the lake.

"Hey, Flint, what time did Avarus say he was coming?"

"Around noon," Flint replied, shading his eye from the sun's glare.

After hearing this, Draco knew it would not be wise to stay around when Avarus arrived. And if it meant staying under water then so be it. His eyes went steely grey. If Avarus himself was coming to man the lake then Goyle must have been telling the truth. He would just have to keep on looking. The two had stopped talking and rolled on their backs, watching idly the clouds in the sky. An idea struck him. Draco slowly rose from his hiding place, his intention was to stun the two. When suddenly, there were popping noises and Crabbe, Larkins and Goyle appeared in front of Flint and . Draco ducked quickly and made sure he remain hidden from their sight.

"Seen any Mudblood floating around?" said Crabbe, who winked at Goyle. At this, all of them laughed maliciously.

Draco's mouth flattened to an angry line. Knowing it would be foolhardy to stay around now, and quite impossible to stun all five of them without giving away his identity, Draco swam away unnoticed. Diving into the depths of the lake, he re-doubled his efforts as he tried to ignore the tiny voice inside his head whispering that he's already too late.

~*~*~*~*~

The long hours down the lake finally took its toll on Draco. He leaned dejectedly against the tail of the gigantic merperson statue, his eyes burning with fatigue. Wearily, Draco closed his eyes, his energy spent. It was nearly six in the evening when Draco opened his bleary eyes. "Damn it," he groaned after realizing he had fallen asleep from exhaustion. It had been hours since Goyle told me, she's probably .... Filled with helpless rage, he stared broodingly across the murky water.

Slowly, Draco started to get up, but his stiffened limbs were being gripped by intense cramps. With a few choice words, the spell he uttered lessened the discomfort he was feeling. Much as he desired to come up the surface, he couldn't risk it, not if Avarus was there. He clenched and unclenched his hand, thinking how much longer could he stay underwater when his eye caught on something. "Lumos!" he said quickly, and the light from the end of his wand told him he was right. It was a small shard of wood. Nothing to be excited about, if not for the fact that several more pieces were scattered within a short distance from each other. Driven by hope, he followed the trail until he reached a wide expanse of black mud. He stopped cold, if there were any traces left it would have been easily swallowed up by the mud. Convinced that the coffin might be underneath, Draco plunged his right hand deep into the mud while his other hand tightly grasped his wand. All of sudden, something shot past him. It was a mere blur and he had absolutely no idea what it was. He swirled around, hoping to catch a glimpse of that mysterious thing again. Sure enough, not a minute had passed when Draco caught sight of a glowing, barely perceptible mass moving towards him at such an impossible speed.

When the unknown creature streaked past him, Draco sped towards the direction the creature was heading. His instincts practically screamed at him to follow it. As he went past the stretch of light-green weed, several small, horned Grindylow poked out of the weeds. In his hurry, he had forgotten about those pests. In split seconds, the Grindylows were weighing him down; grasped tightly to his legs and arms, hindering his movements. One snatched his right shoe, while another one tugged relentlessly on his other shoe. He kicked hard thrice before he managed to get rid of the one on his left foot. However, the Grindylows were not finished with him yet. Two managed to grab at the bubble around his head, blocking his vision. Angered by the water demons, he took out his wand and shouted, "Relashio!" His wand emitted silver sparks and struck down four of the pesky creatures. But there were simply too many of them. Unable to see what was in front of him, he hit his back at a protruding rock. A shout of pain slipped from his lips. One persistent Grindylow lunged at his exposed throat, its grip vice-like, choking him. His wand slipped from his fingers as he struggled against being dragged into the depths by the water demons. Gasping for breath, Draco felt himself sink as his vision started to dim. He was at the end of his strength; coldness ran through him as he continued to sink.

Just then something hard brushed against him. He clung to it. Then felt himself being pulled forward; he was feeling very drowsy by then and was too exhausted to think of anything. He half opened his eyes and discovered to his amazement, that the Grindylows had mysteriously vanished and that he was clinging at the end tail of the sea creature he was chasing just moments ago. From where he was positioned, all he could see was its rainbow-colored scales. And it was huge. Still dazed, he stared to the direction they were heading to. His eyes widened. They were going to smack straight to an algae-covered stone wall. It was simply too late to do anything. As he steeled himself against the impact, his hands instinctively went up, covering his face. However, instead of crashing, he found himself falling into pitch-black darkness, and then there was a big splash as he landed in waist-deep freezing water. He gasped for air, breathing so hard that he failed to realize that the Bubble Head spell had been broken. Shivering, Draco raised himself half out of the water, and slowly, painfully, walked toward the rocky shore with legs that felt like lead, then fell back exhausted on the sand. Numb from the lower waist down, it was some time before he pushed himself into an upright position and was arrested by the sight before him.

Every imaginable color greeted his eyesight; it was astounding. There were violet trees with leaves that sparkled mysteriously. Draco blinked. His eyes couldn't quite take in the splendid array of absurdly colored trees and plants. His gaze fell towards the picture-perfect waterfalls where he must have landed earlier. The water fascinated him; it was the color of rich golden amber similar to a sparkling champagne. Even the sand was sugary pink. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He pushed his wet blond hair from his eyes as he stared in disbelief. The place seemed taken right out of a storybook he had read when he was still a small child.

Slowly he stood up, his movements jerky and stilted. As he straightened, he took a good look around him. Lying a few yards away was a wrecked coffin. Draco made a mad dash towards it, and as he stepped closer, he nearly froze when he saw a small huddled form. It's her! He knelt beside her and let out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding as a piercing sense of relief went through him. His relief, however, was short lived, for Hermione was deathly white, dripping wet and shaking with cold.

He lifted her in his arms, and at his touch, her eyes suddenly flew open. Draco went absolutely still. "Please don't leave me, " she whispered hoarsely. The glazed look on her eyes didn't escape Draco's sharp gaze. She was obviously delirious and most probably had no idea who he was at the moment. His mouth went white with anger as he imagined the kind of torment she just went through.

"So c-c-cold," she mumbled, her teeth chattered loudly. "C-c-cold, s-s-so very cold..." When Hermione shivered even more violently, Draco's hand automatically reached into his pocket robe for his wand. With a few curses under his breath, he remembered how he lost his wand back in the lake. Gently, he lowered her back on the sand. To his surprise, his wand lay on the sand next to him, how did it got there he couldn't care less. With a flick of his wand, he quickly uttered the Drying Spell, but to his surprise nothing happened. Again, he tried. The result was the same.

He turned his attention back to Hermione, whose convulsive shivering alarmed him. Draco raked his fingers through his hair before he started tugging down the clingy green gown, which was sticking to her like a second skin. He swore softly, followed by his sharp intake of breath. He tore his gaze and continued tugging the cursed gown until it reached down her waist. His hands stopped in mid-movement. Inch-thick, black weed was wrapped alarmingly tight around her stomach. Acting quickly, he snatched a broken shell from the sand and the shell instantly served as a knife as he slipped it under the weed, slitting it from top to bottom with one swift stroke. He was filled with silent fury as he took in the faint bruises on her upper arms, scratches on her lower legs, a two-inch gash on her right knee, as well as the angry red mark the weed had left. His frown deepened as he briskly eased the gown, which seemed to have a mind of its own, off her hips all the way down her bare toes. When he finished undressing her, he turned away, searching for a suitable covering. His glance fell over an outlandishly large, periwinkle-blue plant not far from him. Draco plucked several of the plant's overly large leaves and covered her shivering body.

He next went to work on his own dripping-wet clothes. He easily shrugged off his robe, followed by his shirt, then he kicked his remaining shoe and unbuckled his belt at the same time. As his pants hit the sand, he jerked off his socks impatiently. Clad only in a white cotton boxer, he scooped the pile of wet clothes, then went over a glittering tree closest to him and laid the wet garments over a violet branch to dry.

Draco lay next to her, and seeing her still shivering uncontrollably, gathered her close to him. As he felt the shudder coursing through her body, he gathered her even closer, and wrapped her in his arms. He touched her long brown hair, the dampness caused it to curl about her face and shoulder. With his hand tangled in her wet, brown curls, Draco took a deep, shuddering breath as he drew in the scent of her hair as he continued to hold her in his embrace. Her hair still smelled like wild flowers and strawberry just as he remembered, sweet and intoxicating. He looked at her face and was relieved that she had finally closed her eyes. For a while only the steady rhythm of his breathing could be heard, along with the lulling sound of the waterfalls.

He immediately noticed the change; the chills had finally subsided and color returned on her cheeks. Slowly, gently, he released his hold on her, but she shifted restlessly and only became still when she finally curled up against him. He studied her face and found himself mesmerized, forgetting his aching muscle as his hand began to trace the delicate curve of her jaw down to the soft, pale hollow of her throat. Hermione moaned softly, and pressed her cheeks on his chest. Exhausted, Draco welcomed the feel of her soft curves pressed close to him as he closed his eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep with a half-naked Hermione snuggled in his arms.