Chapter 18

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Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.
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Draco reappeared in the middle of a howling gale.

He was momentarily shocked, unsure what to make of the rain and wind whipping at his body. Apparently the cave was far enough away from the manor that the weather systems were drastically different. A branch crashed down nearby, and he was jolted into action.

With a quick look around, he saw that he was a short way from the mouth of the cave, and took off running.

Even in the relentless rain, each step slick underfoot, everything was familiar to him. The smell of the woods sent memories careening through his mind. Everything here was Hermione Hermione Hermione. It was as though the wind was screaming her name.

It was raining like this the first time they made love.

It was raining like this the night after he healed her.

He could see the cave, and hastily wiped the rain out of his eyes. The magic was affecting him already; a low pulse that he felt in his bones.

How did I not think of this before? If this works, I owe Harry a life debt.

He picked up the pace. Just a few more steps.

Draco ran into the cave, squinting at the darkness. Hermione wasn't here to build a fire. The hammock was gone. But it was definitely their space. It even smelled like her - flowers and woodsmoke. His heart ached. He wanted her back.

He stood there, in the dry and the quiet, for several long seconds, catching his breath.

How will I know what to do?

The cave answered with a hum that shook his entire body. With a deep shudder, the air around Draco electrified, and suddenly he was surrounded by blinding light. The magic swirled around him, brushing his arms, legs, rushing over his ring. The hum intensified. It was as though the magic itself was asking him what he needed.

"She's hurt," he found himself saying. "She's hurt, and I don't know how to wake her up."

It felt almost like a breeze when the magic poured into him. Draco could make out an emotion within the energy... It felt strangely like concern, and it wasn't his own. His shoulders relaxed and he let the magic search him. He had become a vessel, allowing himself to simply be. The magic tore through him like a strong wind now, seeking out information, racing into his blood.

His mind stated to tingle, and he knew the magic was searching his memories. It was flipping through him like an open book. It replayed the scene of the final battle in his mind. It saw Hermione get hit. The magic lurched. It was frantic and terrifying and yet, standing there in the cave, surrounded by this powerful ancient force, Draco felt reassured. It understood. One of its own was in danger. It circled his broken heart, beating in time.

The fevered pitch started to wane, and slowly, surely, like a pulse, the magic backed down and left his body. His ring felt like liquid fire, but he wasn't in pain.

Then it spoke. Or, rather, it's message appeared in his consciousness. There was no voice to speak of, not really.

We bonded with one of your family line a long time ago, it said.

When she came to us, we knew she would join your line. We protected her. We waited for you.

She will begin a new era for your family. She will be the light to your darkness.

We will heal her. Go to her now.

And then, shaking from head to toe, Draco felt his feet move to the mouth of the cave, and he apparated away.

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