Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Heart and Soul ❯ Chapter One ( Chapter 1 )

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

Heart And Soul
By: Tassana Burrfoot

Chapter One

Draco's mind screamed for the clicking to stop. He didn't know what caused it, but it annoyed him to no end. It didn't cease, either. Worse, a light threatened to blind him in his sleep.

He loved to sleep, yearned to sleep some more. It had been such a wonderful dream he had been having. His father was a balding old fool and Draco was married to the most beautiful woman in the world. Malfoy Manor was a wonderfully dreadful place to be. The Dark Lord had appointed Draco as the head Death Eater, higher than Bellatrix and more trusted than Snape. Muggles and Mudbloods bowed to his every command.

The clicking still did not stop. The light wouldn't fade. Groaning in annoyance, Draco turned onto his side. It was then he realized he was not sleeping under his silk sheets, but rather cotton ones. Thinking he was at school, he almost dismissed the idea until he remembered: Slytherin House was in the dungeons, away from light.

Draco opened his eyes and blinked. He stared at the sky blue wall in confusion. The blue sheets confused him even more. Was he, for some ungodly reason, in Ravenclaw House? If so, he'll demand to know why.

He sat up and turned to look about the room, prepared to demand an explanation. The room was small, by his standards. His bed, he could tell, was a full sized bed, much smaller than the king sized he had at home.

All other thoughts fled from his mind when he realized what made the clicking noise. He was not alone.

Sitting at a desk wearing a pink tank and a pair of blue jeans, Hermione Granger moved her fingers freely over a small board. Her eyes stared at an odd looking screen that blinked and glowed from an inner light.

"What is that thing?" Draco asked, irritably.

Startled, Granger jumped, causing her fingers to slam onto the board. Had he not been annoyed, Draco would've found her swearing amusing. As it was, he took some measure of comfort in the fact that he had managed to catch her off guard.

She looked at him and sighed. "You're awake," she stated, matter-of-factly. "It's about time, too. My mother was going to have me contact St. Mungo's today if you hadn't awaken."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What is that?" he repeated, pointing to the strange looking object she had been staring at a moment before.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, as though she hadn't heard him.

His eyes narrowed. "Perhaps you didn't hear me," he sneered. "I want to know what that horrible contraption is. It woke me up and if you don't tell me..."

"It's a computer," she answered, not letting him finish the sentence. "Muggles use them to transport data, research topics, and talk to one another over long distances. My parents bought it for me for my sixteenth birthday. We set it up in here because I had no room in my own room and since this is a spare room, we turned it into a computer room."

He rolled his eyes. Now that he was awake, he took in the rest of his surroundings. The desk Granger sat at was about the size of the desks the teachers at Hogwarts used in the classrooms. The chair she sat in was cushioned and had wheels on the bottom of it.

Like the desk, the dresser, which sat opposite the desk and next to the door, was a dark cherry wood. Two five shelf dark cherry wood bookshelves sat on either side of the dresser. Both bookshelves were filled with books of all shapes, sizes, and reading styles.

Draco allowed his feet to fall onto the soft, azure carpet. That's when he realized he wore nothing but undergarments. He grabbed the sheets to cover himself. "Where in bloody hell are my clothes?" he demanded, embarrassed and angry to think she might have seen him nude.

She didn't seem the least bit embarrassed by his appearance, which, to him, confirmed his suspicions. "Your robes had been nothing but rags," she explained as she stood up and went to the dresser. "Mum ended up tossing them. At the hospital, your mum had informed us that she would send us some of your clothes, but Father told her it wouldn't be necessary. He didn't think it would be entirely appropriate for you to wear robes around our neighbourhood. So, instead, your mum gave my mum some money for clothes, which we bought. Your mum also sent over your school things, but asked us to get you some new robes. Apparently, your school robes are too small."

He heard maybe half of what she said as she tossed him a pair of jeans. When she turned her back to grab him a shirt, he quickly put the jeans on and buttoned them. He hated Muggle clothes, but anything was better than her seeing him in nothing but his boxers.

"You said my mum sent my things here," he inquired. "Why? Wouldn't she know I would come home the moment I woke up? I sure as hell am not staying here."

She started to respond, but then stopped. Instead, she tossed him a hunter green t-shirt and folder her arms. "If you wish to leave, then do so. I have some Floo Powder on the mantle above the fireplace downstairs. We'll send your things."

He donned the shirt and then grabbed his shoes. Once they were secure on his feet, he stepped out into the hall and went down the stair, taking three steps at a time.

He heard Granger following him, but chose to ignore her. What did he care if she wanted to follow? He was leaving. Seeing the jar of Floo Powder she had mentioned, he grabbed it off the mantle and took some out. There was no fire going, but that was all right. He stepped into the fireplace.

"Malfoy Manor," he said, clearly and concise as he dropped the Floo Powder.

Nothing happened.

He tried again.

Still nothing happened.

Curious, he grabbed the jar and looked at it. "Where did you buy your powder from, Granger? The Muggle market?" he jeered.

She rolled her eyes. "Would you like me to try?" she asked, almost in an amusing way.

He sneered at her. He took some more powder and tried it again. When it didn't work, he approached her, easily towering over her. "I don't know what game you're playing at, Granger, but you are not going to win. I'm going home," he growled.

She didn't budge nor flinch. "Then go," she told him. "I don't want you here any more than you wish to be here. So, go."

He pushed passed her and headed for the door. The locks on the door were easy enough to open. Stepping out into the sunlight, he breathed a sigh of relief. He was leaving the Grangers and going home.

He walked down the stone walkway and thrusted his wand before him. "What are you doing?" Granger asked from somewhere behind him.

He didn't turn around. "What does it look like I'm doing?" he snapped. "I'm going home. Now, go away!"

"The Knight Bus won't come," she told him, guessing what he was doing.

He wheeled on her then. "And why the bloody hell not?" he demanded, annoyed she had guessed correctly.

She indicated the neighbourhood. "First, you are in a Muggle neighbourhood among at least six Muggle children who are currently playing across the street. Secondly, you have to be able to do magic in order to call the Knight Bus, which, right now, you can not."

"Loco-Motor mortis!" Draco shouted, pointing his wand at Granger.

Nothing happened.

Granger sighed, "I was trying to tell you. For whatever reason, your magic isn't working. It's like it's.. gone."



*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hermione had only been eleven years old the first time she met Draco Malfoy. Even then, he was arrogant, spoiled, and selfish. He was nasty and mean and loved to be the bully. His gang of Slytherins were known for terrorizing younger and/or weaker students. But, he was always pretty level-headed, for the most part.

In fact, she had never really seen Malfoy lose his temper. She had seen him angry, but never to the point of explosion.

Had the moment not been so serious, Hermione would probably had laughed, or at least smiled, at the comical expression on Malfoy's face. His disbelief of her words were depicted in his wide gray eyes and slight drop of jaw.

"Tell me you are joking," he ordered slowly.

She snorted, "If I were, do you honestly think you'd still be here? I have no desire to have you here. And, trust me, your mother would have preferred you were home rather than in a house of Muggles with their 'Mudblood daughter.'"

Thankfully, he did not explode. However, Hermione had a feeling that if looks could kill, then she'd be a dead person. Silence permeated the area around them. The sounds of children playing had long disappeared.

Unable to stand the silence any longer, Hermione asked, "Would you like something to eat?"

"I would like to go home," he growled through clenched teeth.

She scoffed, "So would I. But, it's a long walk to Wiltshire and you don't even know where you are. The least you could do is leave on a full stomach. Perhaps my mum will pack you a lunch you can take on your journey. I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

She turned and began walking back to the house. She was careful to hide her relieved smile when she felt him run to catch up to her. "Why can't I do magic?" he questioned, curiously. "What's wrong with me?"

She shrugged, but did not look at him. "I don't know. The Healers couldn't figure it out either."

"So, they just released me? Not bothering to make a study of it? To see if it will come back?" he inquired. "What if I'm contagious?"

"I don't think you are," she answered. "Personally, I think you're just traumatized. Whatever happened to you for you to end up covered in blood on my living room floor was really bad. I've been trying to research it, but I can't seem to find anything on wizards or witches losing their magic through trauma."

She could see him from the corner of her eye and could feel him walking next to her. When they approached the front door, he surprised her by opening the door and allowing her to enter first. The gentlemanly gesture shocked Hermione. She had never known Malfoy to act that way towards anyone, especially her. Quickly deciding not to point this out, she stepped through the threshold and into the house.

"I thought you were supposed to be smart or something," Malfoy commented as he followed her inside, shutting the door behind him. "I always see you with your nose stuck in some book or in the library writing a twelve foot essay for one of our professors. There's got to be something somewhere."

She wasn't sure if he was complimenting her or insulting her. She took it as a mixture of the two as she responded, "Well, it's not like I haven't tried. I don't have Hogwarts Library at my disposal, you know. I can only find so much being among Muggles. My mum brought me to Diagon Alley a few days ago, but even Flourish and Blotts came up empty. So, I've been trying to research the internet. Thought someone within the Wizarding Community might have a website or something."

He looked at her in confusion. "The internet?"

She shrugged. "Werewolves and vampires use it. So, I thought perhaps we might, too."

He continued to give her a confused look, but she ignored it. She really didn't feel like explaining the complicated methods of Muggle communication.

The two teens joined Hermione's father at the breakfast table. He was engrossed in his morning newspaper, so they didn't bother him.

Hermione's mother approached them with a hot skillet. "Draco, dear? Do you like scrambled eggs?" she asked, sweetly.

Malfoy shrugged non-chalant. "They're fine, I guess," he mumbled as she placed a spoonful of eggs onto his plate. "Though, my house-elf usually serves me Eggs Benedict."

The older woman smiled. "Yes, well, we Muggles can't really have house-elves, can we? After all, I have never even seen one. Besides, Hermione is adamant about S.P.E.W."

"Spew?" Malfoy questioned, looking at a disgruntled Hermione.

"Mum!" Hermione reprimanded. "I don't need you telling Malfoy everything that I do! That's none of his business. It's just..."

"Dreadful. Simply dreadful," her father piped from behind his newspaper. He folded the paper and placed it next to him.

"What's dreadful, dear?" her mother inquired as she finished giving everyone eggs and walked back to the kitchen.

He took a sip of his coffee before responding. "More disappearances. People just vanishing into thin air without a trace. Most likely the work of that Lord fellow Hermione's told us about."

Hermione nodded her agreement. "If people are vanishing, it's definitely the work of Lord Voldemort."

Malfoy dropped his fork and stared at her, incredulously. "Are you mad?" he hissed. "How dare you say the Dark Lord's name! My aunt won't even say his name and she's closer to him than probably anyone else. A Mudblood like you..."

"Don't call me that, Malfoy!" Hermione shouted, glaring at him.

"Then don't say his name," he retorted.

The two adults looked from one teenager to the other. "What is this about?" her father demanded.

When Malfoy spoke, it was a lot calmer. "No one says the Dark Lord's name. To do so is like writing your own death sentence."

Hermione threw him a matter-of-factly look. "Harry and Dumbledore say his name all the time. Neither one are dead yet."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Potter hasn't much time left. As for Dumbledore, the man's an idiot. He'll get his one day."

Hermione wanted to slap him. She could feel her hand aching with the need. "Dumbledore is a lot older and wiser than anyone sitting at this table," she whispered in a death-like calm. "He has fought Vol-- You Know Who before and sent him scurrying away like a mouse. As for Harry... Just watch, you'll see. Harry will defeat him once and for all."

"It doesn't matter anyway," her father told them both, interrupting their argument. "It's not safe at Hogwarts anymore. Or in the Wizarding Community, for that matter. So, I think, for everyone's sake, Hermione won't be returning to school this year."

"What?!" Hermione shouted in horror over the roar of Malfoy's laughter. "Father, that is not the answer to the problem. Taking me out of school is not going to keep me from getting hurt."

To Hermione's surprise, Malfoy agreed. Wiping a tear from his eye, he commented, "The Dark Lord is going to target Muggle-borns, especially Granger."

"What does he want with my daughter?" her mother questioned, fearfully.

Malfoy sighed, "Like I said, she's Muggle-born, or, as those of us who are pureblood say, a Mudblood. Furthermore, she's been helping Potter to overcome every obstacle the Dark Lord throws at him. She and Potter are friends, really good friends. If the Dark Lord can knock out Granger, that's one more heavy strike against Potter."

"So, she doesn't go back," her father confirmed. "We can go into hiding."

Now Malfoy did laugh. "Where?" he scoffed. "In the country? So typical of Muggles. Hide in the country where no one can hear your screams. While you're at it, you should hang garlic on your doors and fill your guns with silver bullets."

"Don't talk down to my father that way, Malfoy," Hermione snapped.

"What are you going to do about it, Granger?" Malfoy bit back. "Go on, then. Hide in the country. Book a flight to another continent. But don't be surprised when the Dark Lord finds you. No one can hide from him for long. If you don't believe me, ask Potter's parents."

He got up from the table and stormed out of the room. Hermione heard him stomp up the stairs and, moments later, slam the door to his room. At least, he didn't try leaving again.

As tears filled her eyes, Hermione silently wished he would have left. She would not have stopped him. She looked at her father and choked. Clearing her throat, she begged him, "Please, don't take me out of school. I know it sounds crazy and dangerous, but Harry needs me. I can't leave him to fend for himself. It wouldn't be right or fair."

Her father sighed, "I don't want to risk losing you. You are my only child. If something were to happen..."

She stopped him. "I trust Harry. He's not going to let anything happen to me. And, if it does, then, well," her voice broke. "If it does, then you'll know I died for the greater good. But, I honestly believe in my heart that I'll be okay."

Her father grabbed her and pulled her into an embrace. Her mother, teary eyed, joined them.