Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Heart and Soul ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimers: I do not now, nor have I ever owned the Harry Potter series or it's characters. This story is strictly a work of fan fiction devoted to this wonderful world of Harry Potter. Any similarities between real people, places, and things is purely coincidental.

This story is a Draco/Hermione fic. If you do not like this couple, I suggest hitting the back button now. This story also contains scenes of an explicit nature. If you are under the age of 18, or if such scenes offend you, I suggest hitting the back button. I am not responsible for controlling what children read. That responsibility rests within the confines of proper parenting.

This story rides along with the sixth and seventh books. If you haven't read these books, I suggest you do so before reading this story, otherwise you will not understand some of it. This is an alternate universe, so there may be some inconsistencies. This is done on purpose, to fit my story and my version of events that shall unfold.

This shall be your only warning.




Heart and Soul
By Tassana Burrfoot


Prologue

Hermione woke up with a jolt. She sleepily looked around her and briefly wondered what had caused her to awaken. Then, she remembered something had crashed.

It had been only four days since the incident at the Ministry. Since school ended. Four days since the battle with Voldemort and his Death Eaters in the Department of Mystery.

Her room was dark. Indeed, looking at her bedside clock, she realized it was one o'clock in the morning. She quickly got out of bed and donned her night robe. It had occurred to her that while Voldemort wanted Harry, it was possible he might try to use her to get to him.

She grabbed her wand and quietly crept to her door. The slight creak the door made caused her to grimace as she opened it.

"Hermione, is that you?" whispered a voice she immediately recognized as her father.

"Yes," she answered in a soft hiss. "What was that noise?"

In the dim hallway light, she could see her father standing before her, holding a baseball bat. Of course, he would. He was a Muggle. Both of her parents were Muggles. Muggle dentists to be more precise.

"I don't know," he replied, shaking his head. "But I intend on finding out."

She silently agreed, but then bulked when he told her to stay there. "And if it's a magical menace that can't be defeated with a bat?"

"Hermione, I will not let you put yourself in danger," he told her.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, well, for all we know, we might be in very real danger right now. I don't want to argue, Dad. I just want to be there in case. You need magical backup."

He frowned, but then nodded his consent. Together, father and daughter descended the stairwell. Hermione heard a soft moan and saw slight movement on the living room floor. She cautiously reached over to the light switch and flicked it on. She gasped at the sight before her.

Draco Malfoy was lying in the middle of the floor amidst broken glass and splintered wood. He looked as though he had been the victim of a serious beating. His left arm sported a horrible gash that trailed from the middle of his bicep almost to his wrist. His face was covered in blood and his robes were ripped nearly to shreds. It seemed as if he had either fell or was thrown onto the coffee table.

Fear gripping her, Hermione rushed to his side and checked his neck for a pulse. He groaned at her touch and she sighed in audible relief. "Thank God," she breathed. She then began to call him, "Malfoy! Draco Malfoy! Can you hear me? Wake up!"

As she began shaking him, her father asked, "Hermione, do you know this fellow?"

She nodded. "He's a boy that goes to my school."

The sound of her mother's voice caused them both to look up. "What's going on?" she asked them as she entered the living room.

Using the bat to point the boy out, Mr. Granger explained, "One of Hermione's friends from school. He's hurt."

"He's not my friend," Hermione quickly corrected. "Just a boy from school. Actually, we don't get along. He's a foul, low life black hearted git and he probably deserved what he got."

"Hermione Jane Granger!" her mother scolded. "I've never heard you talk as such. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Hermione just shrugged. "It's no less than he deserves."

"And speaking of him like so when he is in this state is proper?" her mother demanded.

"He would do the same to me," the teenager argued feebly.

"So that makes you no better than he is. I thought your father and I taught you better," the older woman fussed.

Hermione sighed in defeat, "You're right. I'm sorry. It's just.. these past few days have been.. hard."

Her mother made no argument to that. Instead, she went to the kitchen and returned moments later with a bowl of warm water. "Here," she said, handing her daughter a rag, "help me clean him up."

Hermione began cleaning his face. The blood there had started to cake, however, as she cleaned it, she saw only a few scratches and a blackened eye. The blood, she assumed, had come from the gash on his arm. Her anger and hatred of him melted away briefly as she saw the anguish and pain etched into his face. She wasn't without compassion, after all.

As she began to wonder what happened to cause him to be in this state, he stirred. Anxiously, she called out, "Malfoy?"

"Granger?" he whispered, his lips barely moved.

"Yes, Malfoy. It's me," she confirmed, continuing to wipe his face with the rag.

Her father, who had been sweeping the debris, glanced up. "He's awake?" he inquired.

But, Hermione did not hear him. Her attention was focused on Malfoy. He was trying to say something, but she couldn't make out his words.

Suddenly, he bolted upward, his good eye wide with fright. His sudden movement startled the Grangers, causing Hermione's parents to look up in alarm and Hermione to fall back.

Draco looked around him in panic. The last thing he remembered was the Dark Lord laughing about Lucius getting sent to Azkaban.

Where was he? He noticed the three people, two of which were obviously Muggles. He sneered at the third person, the only one he recognized. "Where am I, Granger?" he demanded, nastily.

She sighed, "You're in my house. You fell into the coffee table and was knocked unconscious. You've suffered a grievous wound on the arm..."

But, he was no longer listening to her. How did he end up here? Where was his mother? His head was spinning and he felt weak. He touched his temple to stop the spinning and began to stand up.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she warned him, touching his right arm.

He jerked his arm away. "Don't touch me, you filthy little Mudblood!" he snarled.

Eyes narrowed in anger, she stepped back. He paused briefly to stop the room from moving before looking around again. "Where's my wand?" he demanded.

Granger turned and walked to the couch. She picked up his wand. But, when she went to hand it to him, he snatched it from her fingers. He stormed to the door and attempted to open it. Seeing it was locked, he pointed his wand to the handle and said, "Alohomora!"

Nothing happened. Frustrated, Draco yanked at the door, to no avail.

"Son, you need to calm down," said the man, who Draco assumed was Granger's father.

"I'm not your son," Draco growled, probably ruder than he should have. He didn't care. "How do you get out of this bloody place?"

The older man walked to the door and unlocked the door. As soon as it was unlocked, Draco yanked the door open and stormed out. It was dark, most likely after midnight. He was in pain and he was tired. But, Draco was determined to get home. He'd waved down the Knight Bus once he got to the end of the stone walkway. Then, he would go home and...

He would never know what he was going to do next. At that moment, his protesting body gave up on him. He felt himself fall face first to the ground. The last thing he remembered was a blackness which engulfed him.