A Most Inconvenient Devotion - Chapter 5 | Fanfiction Adaptation + Discussion

0:00Blurish and Flots is proud to present a most inconvenient devotion, an original adaptation of Draco Malfoy and the mortifying ordeal of being in love, written by Is This Self-Care. Chapter 5 The Keepers of the Well For a while they drove without speaking, Granger had gone inward again, preoccupied with whatever part of the afternoon she had not yet seen fit to explain to him. Her thumb tapped an irregular rhythm against the steering wheel, and every so often she caught her lower lip between her teeth. It's going to be busy this afternoon, she said at last. The gardens, I mean, we should try to keep a low profile. We have to go through the gift shop to buy tickets, but once we're inside the gardens themselves, we can avoid the worst of the crowds. I can keep a low profile. She turned her eyes toward him for the length of a heartbeat, a side-long

1:00look that managed to convey an entire argument without requiring her to speak. Draco ignored it. Does the water actually have magical properties? And if it does, why do muggles know about it at all? Granger straightened in her seat and drew breath. Ah, he had activated swat mode. The springs around Glastonbury have been used by both muggles and magical people for thousands of years, she began, with the immediate precision of someone who had either researched the subject exhaustively, or had been waiting all day for an excuse to lecture on it. After the Statute of secrecy, I imagine it would have been nearly impossible to erase something so old and so widely known from the collective memory. But muggles only know about two of the springs here, the white spring and the red well. Neither has any meaningful magical properties, although muggles have attached all sorts of spiritual and mythological significance to them. There are stories about the Holy Grail, King Arthur, he's supposedly buried at Glastonbury

2:02Abbey and various other legends. They had reached the outskirts of the town now. Granger slowed at a junction, then followed a sign toward the Chalicewell Gardens. There is, however, she continued, a third spring. You won't find that one mentioned in any Muggle brochure. It's called the Greenwell, and that does have genuine magical properties. I need... she stopped. The hesitation lasted only a moment, but Draco saw the calculation behind it, whether telling him would reveal too much, weighed against the inevitability of his working it out for himself. I need a sample from it. For your project? Yes. And why today? Why imbulk specifically? You're being rather too inquisitive. Inquisitive, Draco suspected, was the civilized substitute for medallism. He settled more comfortably into his seat. I suppose the Greenwell reaches the height of its magical potency at imbulk.

3:05Granger said nothing. I'm right, aren't I? Her eyes flicked, almost despite herself toward the glovebox. The sneaker scope lay inside, waiting with irritating impartiality to expose any sufficiently blatant lie. Stop being so curious, she said. Draco gave her a look. That's a bit rich, coming from you. She scoffed. Being curious is literally my job. I'm a researcher. Your job is to protect me from forces unknown, not conduct an interrogation into a highly confidential proprietary project. By then she had pulled into a parking space. She switched off the engine, folded her hands briefly over the steering wheel, and turned to him as though waiting to see whether he intended to make matters worse. This switch was something else. Draco could not remember the last time he had been subjected to such a relentless exchange of argument and counter-argument. Each point answered before he had properly finished enjoying his own. Had someone been keeping score, he had the unpleasant suspicion that

4:10he would not currently be winning. I'm not a bodyguard, he said. I wasn't assigned to you so I could clomp brainlessly along at your heels. No. Granger's irritation sharpened, though not apparently at him alone. You're a highly trained, highly competent aura, and this is an utter waste of your time. She drew a breath afterward, as though suppressing everything else she might have liked to say about the situation. The first half of her statement produced, quite absurdly, a small spark of gratification in Draco's chest. He extinguished it immediately. He did not care what Granger thought of him. A cluster of muggles crossed in front of the car before either of them could resume hostilities, distracting them both. By mutual and entirely unspoken agreement, the quarrel was suspended. Temporarily, Draco was certain. They climbed out into a crowded car park, families streamed toward the entrance, parents maneuvered prams between

5:10parked cars, children wandered at dangerous angles to everyone else. Mixed among them were muggles dressed in a manner Draco found remarkably eccentric, even by muggle standards, loose layers, scarves, beads, embroidered garments, and an alarming quantity of flowing fabric. I should warn you," Granger said as they fell in with the crowd. There are a lot of new AG types around here. New AG. Hippies, wikens, pagans, woo-woo types. She frowned, dissatisfied with her own explanation. Muggles who are very spiritual, I suppose, they believe in magic or in higher powers, at least, to varying degrees. Some of them even call themselves witches. Obviously, they don't know there are actual witches and wizards or actual magic. They collect crystals and perform rituals they found in old books and things like that. Ah, Draco said, though this clarified very little. I thought muggles were supposed to be relentlessly logical. Some are. Some are rather less so. Granger's tones softened into

6:16thoughtfulness. Or perhaps some part of them remembers magic. Maybe they know it exists without knowing that they know. Or maybe they simply want something to believe in. The gift shop swallowed them into warmth, noise, and an oppressive mixture of fragrances. It was crowded enough to make Draco immediately dislike it. Shellves packed close together, bodies moving unpredictably between them. Every available surface laden with bottles, candles, stones, books, charms, and other objects whose purposes were not immediately apparent. He wrinkled his nose. That'll be the essential oils, Granger said. The newagers love those. Draco picked up one of several aggressively scented candles. The label promised with unjustified confidence, for relaxation. Why doesn't anyone tell them they've oversynthesized these things so thoroughly that whatever minor magical properties they might once have had are completely destroyed. Before he could subject another candle to proper criticism, Granger took him by the arm and steered him bodily

7:21toward a relatively empty corner of the shop where she deposited him with the same brisk efficiency she had used to park the mini. Stay here. I'll get the tickets. She looked him over once. Don't break anything. An invaluable instruction. Without it, Draco might naturally have begun pulverizing merchandise from sheer excess of spirit. He thrust his hands into his pockets and watched her disappear toward the ticket queue. The distinction between them became irritatingly obvious almost at once. Granger vanished into the crowd as if she had been made for it. No one spared her a second glance. Draco, meanwhile, attracted several. He supposed the combination of his height, his white blonde hair, and the allegedly spiffy suit made unobtrusiveness somewhat more difficult than she seemed willing to acknowledge. Granger joined the slow-moving queue. Draco's amusement faded as the distance between them widened. Having his principle separated from him in a congested public place was not something he enjoyed, purely from a professional standpoint,

8:24and he let his attention sharpen across the shop. Without moving from his corner, he performed a discrete sweep of surface thoughts, selecting minds at random from the people nearest Granger, mostly muggles, bored children, irritated parents, tourists thinking about tea, prices, weather, toilets. One wizarding couple stood among them, but neither showed the slightest hostile intent, nor any indication that they knew Granger was present. Whether they would recognize her if they happened to look closely was another matter. Possibly. From this distance, however, Draco could not probe with enough precision to determine it without becoming rather less discreet than the situation allowed. Granger's insistence upon maintaining a low profile might have carried greater moral force had she not, within minutes of issuing it, begun chatting amably with the muggles queued behind her. From his assigned corner of the shop, Draco watched this breach of her own security doctrine with mounting irritation. He skimmed the family's surface

9:29thoughts just to be certain she had not befriended assassins while his back was metaphorically turned. Nothing. No concealed malice, no recognition, no plans more sinister than sightseeing and lunch. They were simply cheerful tourists, apparently delighted to have found someone equally willing to talk. Typical. He was still keeping one eye on Granger when he became aware that someone else was keeping both eyes on him. The presence hovered at the edge of his vision, appearing briefly around one display shelf and vanishing, only to reappear on the other side a moment later. Draco declined to acknowledge it. Instead, he examined a collection of aggressively scented candles with the grave attention of a man contemplating a major purchase. Eventually, his admirer gathered sufficient courage to emerge. She was a shop assistant swarthed in enough translucent scarves to supply a small theatrical company. Large earnest eyes regarded him from beneath a cloud of fabric and the badge pinned to her jumper identified her as unis.

10:35Hello, she said, approaching cautiously. Can I help you find anything? Draco met her gaze and dipped lightly into her immediate thoughts. Nothing threatening. Unless one counted the intensity with which unis considered him dreadfully handsome. No, thank you. He returned his attention to Granger, visible through a forest of candles and dangling merchandise. She was at last approaching the front of the queue. This ought to have ended the matter. Instead, unis drifted nearer. There's something troubled about your aura. She informed him. Draco looked at her properly then. Between the scarves, the solemn expression and the vaguely prophetic pronouncement, she resembled what might have happened had Professor Trelawney been reincarnated as an unusually large moth. I'm not sure these candles are what you need. Unis continued. On that point, we are entirely agreed. His tone failed to penetrate whatever spiritual plain she

11:37occupied. Unis nodded sagely and began pressing her hands through the air around him, fingers flexing as though she might seize hold of the offending aura and ring it out. You need something stronger, cleansing incense perhaps. She floated toward another shelf and backened him after her. Draco remained where he was, watching Granger collect something from the cafe bar instead. At least she was moving in his direction now. If there were any justice in the universe, she would arrive before Unis attempted an exorcism. Unis turned back, extended one hand toward his chest and closed her eyes. After a moment of grave concentration, she shook her head. Your heart chakra is very underactive. Is it? Oh yes. She selected a packet from the shelf and passed the pungent bundle beneath his nose. The venus incense might help, though you also seem to need grounding so perhaps Saturn would be better. She began rummaging with renewed purpose,

12:39offering a stream of observations involving the transmutation of energy, spiritual alignment and eventual ascent to some celestial plane Draco had no particular wish to visit. Through the crowd Granger's hat appeared, bobbing steadily closer. Salvation. I have to go. He stepped neatly away before Unis could discover anything else defective in his metaphysical anatomy. Oh, she sounded genuinely disappointed. Do you? Before he could escape entirely, she caught his hand and pressed something into it. My card. I offer chakra realignments privately as well. Do get in touch. Our energies are extremely compatible. With that, Unis withdrew in a soft turbulence of scarves just as Granger arrived carrying two coffees. Granger watched the retreat with interest. Who was that? Unis. Draco held out the card. She gave me this. Are your chakras in need of realignment?

13:42Granger traded one coffee for the card and inspected it. A telephone number had been scribbled across it in hurried pen. Her face brightened with entirely too much amusement. Oh, she gave you her number. Draco took a cautious sip of his coffee. And Granger looked up. It means Unis fancies you. Most women do. A snort escaped her before she could stop it. Draco stared. Granger's amusement only worsened for a moment, as though his expression had confirmed something extraordinarily funny. Then she managed to regain control of herself, and the laughter in her face gave way to a peculiar, newly considering look. You're funny, Malfoy. He could think of no reason this should irritate him as much as it did. I lived to serve. She handed the card back. Pity, you don't even know what a mobile phone is. Poor Unis has chosen a fairly hopeless target. She also thought I was dreadfully handsome.

14:43Yes, well, she also believes your chakras require urgent repair. Granger took a pointed drink of her coffee. I wouldn't invest too heavily in Unis's powers of judgment. It ought to be recorded somewhere, Draco decided, that any man suffering from an excess of self-esteem could be cured with remarkable efficiency by five minutes in Hermione Granger's company. He drank again. The coffee to his surprise was perfectly decent, more than decent actually. How did you know I'd take a double espresso? Granger gave a careless shrug and started toward the exit. It seemed like you. Draco followed. Meaning what? Bold? Bitter? Overpriced. He concealed the resulting scoff behind the rim of the cup. They left the shop and made their way toward the gardens as the rain weakened into a fine mist. Before long, the clouds thinned sufficiently for pale February sunlight to begin filtering through, uncertain, but welcome.

15:44The gardens were considerably lovelier than Draco had expected. Muggles, deprived of warming charms and the magical compounds that kept wizarding grounds spectacular, even in the dead of winter, had nevertheless managed an impressive display. Clever planting kept pockets of color alive, despite the season, threaded among damp stone paths and bare branches. Springs and channels of running water murmured throughout the grounds, their soft gurgling following visitors from one turning to the next, while hundreds of candles flickered in niches cut into stone walls, beneath arches and inside sheltered hollows. His mother might actually have approved. Signs appeared at intervals requesting silence out of consideration for those meditating. Granger Red-1 drew her wand discreetly and cast a silencing charm around them, enclosing their conversation inside a private bubble. Their path brought them first to the Red-Well, whose name required very little imagination. The water beneath them was stained a deep,

16:46rusty color, and Draco paused to read the nearby plaque while Granger lingered beside him. As she had mentioned earlier, the muggles had constructed an elaborate Christian explanation for the place, involving the holy grail being buried somewhere beneath the grounds. Arthurian legends had been folded into the story as well, and Draco's attention sharpened when a familiar name appeared among them. Muggles know about Morgan Lafay? Granger glanced at the plaque. They know the name, to them she's mythical. Most muggles don't believe she was an actual person. Draco gave a quiet tut of disbelief. Imagine consigning Morgan Lafay to folklore. They continued onto the well-house, enclosing the white spring. The interior was shadowy and damp. The air cool with the mineral smell of wet stone. Candles crowded the rough walls and filled little alcoves, surrounding an eclectic collection of shrines that muggle visitors had dedicated with a parent impartiality to beings both real and imaginary. St. Bridgid, the lady of Avalon,

17:52the King of the Fairies, and others Draco either did not recognize or had no intention of asking about. Granger led him through and out again, then around the back of the structure to a narrower path where the foot traffic diminished. This should be it, she said, peering ahead. There's supposed to be some kind of platform that takes us down to the green well. We'll need our ones to get through though, so we should disillusion ourselves in case any muggles wander past. A moment later, Granger vanished into the scenery, or nearly vanished. Draco could still make out the distortion of her body ahead of him. A Granger shaped shimmer of garden, bending the weak sunlight as she moved. He followed the wavering outline until it stopped without warning. Draco walked straight into her. He recoiled a fraction. A warning would be useful. Whatever reply she made was lost beneath his attention shifting downward. Half concealed beneath an overgrown bush and a layer of dead leaves lay something resembling an old manhole cover.

18:54Moss clung to the weathered cast iron, but beneath it he could still distinguish the design worked into the metal. Two broad circles overlapping one another at their centers. That represents the meeting of the physical and spiritual worlds, Granger said. Through the shimmer of her disillusionment, Draco could just make out the ghostly movement of her wand tracing the overlapping circles. You might recognize it. The red well is built on the same shape. Come on, this is the platform down. They crowded onto the iron cover together, with scarcely enough room for both of them. In cantation, Draco asked, and was rewarded with a mouthful of Granger's invisible hair as she shifted beside him. Vesaka pisses. Her wand described the twin circles in the air. Beneath their feet, the iron gave a sudden, ominous shutter, and Granger edged instinctively closer until her shoulder pressed against him. At that distance, Draco caught the warm damp scent of her, rain and wet woodland, cappuccino, clean soap,

20:00an absurdly gorgeous combination. Then the platform vanished from beneath them. Granger seized him with both arms and produced a shriek capable of rupturing whatever remained of his hearing. Thank the heavens for the silencing charm, Draco thought as they plummeted through the darkness. A thick cushioning enchantment arrested therefore at the bottom, which was fortunate, as breaking both ankles had not featured prominently in Draco's plans for the day. They struck it, rebounded, and crashed painfully into one another before sprawling across a springy bed of luminous fungi. Somewhere in the collision, his elbow connected unmistakably with Granger's breast, while her knee missed his groin by a margin narrow enough to make him briefly religious. Remarkable, Draco drooled into the darkness. First class traveled. Gar said Granger, abandoning language altogether. He pushed himself upright. She had landed somewhere to his left, and judging by the faint sounds of distressed breathing,

21:02had taken the descent considerably less well than he had. Couldn't they have installed some kind of levitation charm, she managed? I thought it was a lift. I wasn't expecting a her harrowing plummet to my death. Draco felt around in the dimness until his fingers encountered the remains of his coffee, unsalvageable, tragic. They cancelled their disillusionments, and once Granger had recovered sufficiently to stand, they set off along a narrow passage glowing with enormous bioluminescent mushrooms. Water whispered everywhere, dripping, trickling, running in thin, continuous streams down the stone walls until the entire subterranean place seemed to breathe dampness. The passage opened eventually into a long cavern with a low ceiling. They were no longer alone. Witches and wizards moved quietly through the greenish gloom, and in one corner, a cramped little bookshop had been wedged into the rock. Granger's head turned towards it with

22:03immediate, unmistakable longing. Nearby, an apothecary counter displayed bottles and bundles beneath the strange fungal light. There were no torches, lamps or candles anywhere. Mushrooms carpeted the floor, clustered along the walls and hung in pale, glowing masses overhead. Ompfelotus luxe a turner, Granger murmured appreciatively. Pretty, in a slimy sort of way. Draco waited. If she added like you, he was going to Hexer. His dignity had sustained enough damage for one morning. She did not. Oddly, he found the wasted opportunity almost disappointing. They continued until the cavern narrowed around a bubbling wellspring suffused with eerie green light. Two hunched figures stood to either side of it, so motionless in the penumbra that Draco took them at first for statues, then one of them moved. The keepers of the well, Granger said, apparently finding nothing

23:04especially alarming about this development. She turned to Draco. Right, you stay here. I need to do the talking. They have to be approached politely, respectfully. Draco chose to overlook the implication that these qualities lay beyond him. I think I'd rather come with you. He narrowed his eyes, trying to discern what precisely was lurking beneath those black draperies in the mushroom dAppled dark. Granger's irritation sharpened at once. You said you wouldn't interfere. You're not even supposed to be here. This is delicate, and it's critically important. Fine, Draco hissed. I'll stay here. He was still comfortably within Hexing distance. Granger went on alone. Draco watched the two bowed forms more carefully now. Which is, perhaps, though in this light it was difficult to be certain. If which is they were, there was almost certainly hagg somewhere in the bloodline, and judging by their silhouettes, possibly several other things best left unidentified.

24:09Both creatures turned pale, luminous eyes towards him. Their stairs glowed almost as brightly as the fungi surrounding them, and Draco's fingers tightened around his wand as Granger approached the nearer keeper. His first conclusion was that Granger was either astonishingly brave, or catastrophically fucking reckless. His second was that he hated this. There was something dark about these beings, something old enough that the usual categories felt insufficient. Old, dark, and dangerous, and Granger was strolling straight up to them with all the caution of someone approaching a ministry information desk. Draco could already hear the report he would have to give Tonks. Yes, she was killed by a hag. Yes, I was standing directly behind her. Yes, I watched her walk up to the creature. Yes, she was disemboweled in front of me. She wanted some particularly fashionable water from a well, you see. Apparently nothing else would do. Here for a filled eerie, croaked the nearest

25:14keeper. The voice was dry and husky, scraping through the cavern and returning in faint echoes. Yes, if I may, Granger said. Against the green radiance of the spring, her body was reduced to a slight dark silhouette. I've brought an offering. Show me. The keeper leaned towards her. Something in the movement made Draco's skin tighten. It was too intent, too eager, hungry somehow. His wand hand twitched. One more inch towards Granger and he was prepared to discover whether decapitation worked on whatever the hell this thing was. Granger naturally had come prepared. She reached into her anorac. Draco had long since abandoned any expectation that its interior obeyed conventional dimensions and produced three substantial satchels, passing them one by one into the keeper's clawed hands. Grane, awful, gold. The second keeper shuffled nearer and plunged

26:17talon-like fingers into one of the bags. When she withdrew them, a heap of galleons glittered greenly across her palm. Draco stared. Where exactly had Granger acquired an entire sack of galleons? The keeper displayed no similar concern over their provenance. She cruned with pleasure and closed her claws around the coins. Very nice, lovely, let the good girl through. The first keeper beckoned Granger nearer to the well. Haven't you got a vessel child? Granger produced a large flask. Its golden stopper catching the strange subterranean light. Yes, will this do? A wheezing sound appeared to signify approval. At the keeper's gesture, Granger knelt and plunged the flask into the glowing green water. The second creature had meanwhile fixed her attention on Draco. She regarded him for a long moment, apparently quite aware of the wand clenched in his hand,

27:18and perhaps of the well-rehearsed curses waiting behind his teeth. Then she lifted her head and sniffed the air in his direction. Put the wand away, little boy. This girl won't be meeting her demise here. The first keeper glanced up from Granger's side. The wizard is worried, is it? It is. Her milk-white eyes found Draco's, and for one suspended instant, he had the sense of something ancient looking through him, not merely old, but steeped in a kind of magic that had existed before half the rules he knew had been written. The instinct to reach for legitimacy died before it had properly formed. Whatever lived behind those eyes, he had no intention of putting his mind anywhere near it. The keeper cackled as though he had announced the decision allowed. That's right you won't, silly boy. I'd make soup of your brain and drink it while it was still warm, wouldn't I? Her sister gave a wistful sigh, but look at his eyes. Eyes like the rain troubled skies.

28:22Nothing in the words amounted to a threat, and yet a slow, cold dread threaded itself down Draco's spine. His grip tightened around his wand. He had been considering the efficacy of some of the darker curses in his repertoire, but abruptly wondered whether that was entirely the wrong approach. Perhaps against creatures like these he ought to be thinking light. Oh, don't you start with the rhyming, the first keeper snapped at her sister. We don't want to mess with his melon. Er, I'm finished, Granger said. Draco had rarely been so grateful to hear her voice. She was kneeling beside the well with the flask held aloft, green water dripping from its sides and pattering back into the pool. Another minute of the keeper's attention, and he was liable to become both thoroughly spooked and dangerously trigger-happy. Good girl, said the first keeper. Mind you use it wisely. I will. Granger rose and retreated a pace, clutching the flask.

29:23That thank you. Love and light, my girl. Both keepers dissolved into rasping cackles, as though they had just delivered the finest joke in several centuries. Granger gave them something halfway between a bow and a nervous dip of the head before returning to Draco. He kept his wand in hand as they moved away, resisting the urge to look back. Not until they had crossed enough of the cavern to put stone and shadow between themselves and the well, did he begin to loosen his grip, and even then he could still feel with irrational certainty, two pairs of white eyes resting between his shoulder blades. Granger immediately veered towards the underground bookshop. No. Draco caught her and hauled her back against his side. But I wanted to. No. His hand closed firmly around her elbow. We're going. Whatever argument she might ordinarily have produced, she seemed to catch the anxious edge beneath his anger and thought better of it. She fell into step beside him instead.

30:26Her shorter strides doubling to keep pace as they made for the low tunnel leading back towards the platform. The instant the central cavern was behind them, Draco stopped and turned her to face him. What the fuck was that? His voice bounced faintly off the closed stone walls. You might have mentioned that your little excursion involved bartering with dark creatures. Granger looked almost colorless beneath the phosphorescent glow. I didn't know they were going to be so. So. Haggish, cadaverus, lethal? Draco demanded. The first one was looking at you as though she wanted to pluck out your bloody liver and you simply walked up to her without a wand. Stop man handling me. Granger wrenched herself out of his grasp and smoothed her sleeve with an offended jerk. She was not going to pluck out my liver. They were perfectly nice to me and they are certainly not hags. Not hags? Draco spluttered. You gave them awful. That's a traditional offering.

31:28It's what you're supposed to bring to the keepers of the well. They look like hags. They smell like hags and they eat like hags. Draco enumerated with mounting irritation. They do not eat like hags. You've just handed them the ingredients for awful couscous. If those things weren't hags, what the hell were they? I don't know. Granger threw up a hand. They, or successive incarnations of them anyway, have appeared in texts about the green well for centuries. They're usually described as chrome figures. They aren't evil. They're ancient. They were bloody she-dimentors. Draco jabbed a finger towards the tunnel behind them as though the keepers might somehow be summoned by the accusation. And you are never dealing with that sort of creature again without warning me first. I need you to understand something very clearly. If anything happens to you, shackle bolt will have my head. Tonks will have my balls. And potter and weasley will scavenge whatever's left. My mother will be forced to bury me in a mimeite jar. Do you understand?

32:34Fine, but you're overreacting. Granger brandished the flask of well water at him as evidence of her competence. I got what I came for. I was prepared. I knew what to say, and I brought the correct gifts. Then, inevitably, she found her footing and went on the offensive. You were the one who nearly threw a wrench into the whole thing by becoming so openly hostile that they started taunting you. They could have told you things that would have tormented you for years. Draco's irritation vanished so quickly it left something colder in its place. What things? What do you mean? Nothing. Granger's answer came too quickly. When she saw the intensity of his expression, she edged back half a step. It's stupid. What things, Granger? He advanced without meaning to until he was looming over her in the narrow passage. She hesitated, plainly regretting having said anything at all, but his agitation eventually wore down her resistance. It's just that part of the legendarium surrounding

33:36the keepers suggests she grimaced. It's silly, obviously made up, but some of the stories suggest their seers. Seers, Draco repeated. One knows when you'll die. Granger said reluctantly. The other knows how. A shudder went through him before he could stop it. Granger immediately tucked a curl behind her ear and launched into the hurried, over-explanatory babble she used whenever she had introduced a piece of information she wished she could snatch back. It's all speculation, obviously, storytelling. That sort of conceit is enormously common in old magical texts. Guardian figures are always being embellished with extra mystique and alleged powers. I don't put much stock in stories involving pre-cognition, of course. How can you possibly be cavalier about a legend involving prophecy, Draco cut in? You are literally best friends with the most pre-cognitioned, prophesied, prognosticated, bollocksing boy who fucking lived. Granger drew herself up, instantly prepared to sink her teeth

34:38into this fresh line of argument. That was a highly unusual occurrence. Draco was no longer listening. He stared past her at the damp stone, dragging her hand through his hair as the keeper's unfinished rhyme replayed itself with appalling clarity. I think one of those hags was about to say something. She started speaking in rhymes. He swore beneath his breath. Fuck me. Which one was she then? The how or the when. The stories are utterly unsubstantiated. Granger cut in with all the brisk authority of the chief swat she had always been. They don't know anything. Don't start thinking about it. Too late, I am thinking about it. Draco frowned into the middle distance. What rhymes with skies? Flies? Spies? Beside him, Granger was attempting to force the enormous flask of well water into one of the pockets of her anorak. Draco's morbid train of thought stopped dead. The flask disappeared. He stared at the pocket, then at her. What the... What is this? The anorak of a

35:42thousand pockets? How did that fit in there? You didn't even shrink it. I'm a dab-hand at extension charms. Granger said, with a lightness that was immediately suspicious. Can we? So that's how you've been hauling around those unholy offerings for the voodoo twins, Draco said. At last, one of the innumerable mysteries of Granger had yielded an answer. You do realize extension charms are heavily regulated by the ministry. I'm aware, thank you. Her tone acquired an immediate edge. If anyone reports me, hopefully not present company. If he knows what's good for him, I'm quite prepared to pay the fines in exchange for the convenience. Ah, is that why you lug enormous sacks of galleons about to cover the fines? No. I carry those for ballast. Granger plunged a hand into her impossible pocket, and for one exhilarating moment Draco thought she might actually produce a sack of galleons

36:43and swing it at his head. Instead, she drew out her wand and gave it a flick to check the time. Ugh, I'm late. I had one other thing I wanted to do, but you've put me so far behind schedule. Draco raised his eyes towards the mushroom-fired ceiling. Naturally, this too was his fault. What thing? They began squelching towards the manhole cover half-hidden among the fungi, their shoes sucking unpleasantly at the wet ground. A moment of pure self-indulgence, Granger said. I've wanted to go for ages, and now I'm actually in the area, but what? You're here. She gave him a pointed look, and I don't want you to be. Too bad. Whatever faith I may once have had in your judgment has just been obliterated by the fact that you decided to haggle with hagges without a single sodding contingency plan for what happened if they got peckish. The sound Granger made was closer to a growl than any response normally produced by a human throat.

37:45Anyway, Draco went on. What sort of self-indulgence are we talking about? What's your vice, Granger? None of your bloody business. I assure you, whatever it is, I've seen worse. She ignored him and disillusioned them both. Draco spent the next few moments following an invisible Granger towards the platform while speculating aloud about her secret peckadillo, a brothel, perhaps, getting detention for recreational purposes, awful couscous. They stepped onto the platform. Somewhere beside him, Granger drew one slow, steadying breath. It proved useful preparation for the scream she sustained while the mechanism hurled them back towards the surface. One violent rush later, they burst into the sunshine of the chalice-well gardens, blinking against the sudden brightness. Draco might have stepped neatly off the platform if Granger had not latched onto him with the desperation of a drowning woman seizing the nearest piece of wreckage. Fear thundered through the ring in an echo of her racing heart. The hands gripping

38:51him were shaking. This was not mere distaste. She was terrified. She tried to pull herself away, only for her knees to give beneath her. She lurched straight back into him, fucking damned sodding garh, she said into his chest, a brilliant observation. His voice seemed to summon her back into herself. She remained where she was for another moment, then dragged in an unsteady breath and stepped away, muttering an apology. Draco checked the gardens for muggles, found none nearby and cancelled the disillusionment. Visible again, Granger looked almost bloodless. That was awful. I thought it was rather fun. Yes, well, you also belonged to that diverse cohort of lunatics who enjoys quidditch. Oi, they took the winding path back towards the entrance. Draco did not remark on the trembling of her hands, though he could see it plainly in the fingertips protruding from her anorax sleeves. She rubbed her palms briskly down her arms once and

39:55then again as if she could scrub the last traces of the journey out of herself. Right, she said. You needn't worry about my ever coming back to barter with the voodoo twins. I never want to use that death trap again. If I need another sample, I'll just send you. Me? Not a bloody chance. One of them wanted to sip my brain out through my skull, or did you somehow miss that part? She'd need a rather thick straw, Granger mused. Funny. You could land headfirst next time, make a bit of a milkshake for her. Draco stared at her. Perhaps this was heeler humor. Perhaps Granger simply became exceptionally grizzly while burning off a adrenaline. Either way, it was possibly for the best that she had never taken up quidditch. Then again, he reconsidered. She might have made a spectacular beater. Bludgers would scarcely be necessary. Danger Granger could collapse a man's psyche with three sentences and a raised eyebrow. They crossed the gift shop where Eunice bestowed another love-lawn

41:01look upon Draco, then made their way through the car park to Granger's mini. Is there anything I can say that will make you go away? Granger asked. No. What if I ask nicely? No. I'm not going to interact with anything dark, or with anyone at all. It hasn't even got anything to do with my project. Draco regarded her more closely. She looked genuinely crestfallen at the prospect of his ruining a third item on her carefully arranged list for the day. Magnanimity overtook him. Tell me what it is, and I'll decide whether it's dangerous. Perhaps I'll wait in the car. Granger consulted the little muggle pocket device she carried. Apparently it told the time among whatever other mysteries it performed. Dammit. They close in an hour. Get in. I'll tell you on the way. They climbed into the mini without incident. Draco, having by now attained what he considered genuine expertise in the opening of muggle car doors. One thing before we go, misdab

42:04hand at extension charms. He gestured resentfully at the cramped space before him. Extend this foot well before I behead myself with my own knees. As it turned out, Granger's moment of pure self-indulgence, her dreadful indiscretion, her forbidden vice, was visiting a library. A library? Draco repeated. Yes, at Tynestus Field. He wanted very badly to scream with laughter. Professional standards however prevailed, and he confined himself to a strangled, the decadence. I wish you'd go away, Granger said, with cutting sincerity. The absolute sin of it all. Please operate home to your mother. A library? I shall have to report it. As you can see, I am perfectly safe here. The only remotely bad thing I'm likely to encounter is your attempts at humour. What other naughty habits are you hiding? Church going? Baking? It's a remarkable library. Of course it is. It must be.

43:07And I don't know when I'll next be in Somerset. Yes, it's one of the largest libraries owned by the National Trust. Hmm. The estate also has a beautiful ornjury. Granger continued, doggedly ignoring him. It's a rare surviving example from the late Victorian period. A thrill to be sure. All of which, she said through her teeth, I would very much like to enjoy without you. Draco glanced sideways and caught the telltale tightening of her jaw. He had seen enough of Granger by now to recognise the warning. She was rapidly approaching the point at which restraint would give way and what followed would either be a jinx or an observation so precise and devastating that he might have preferred the jinx. Prudence suggested retreat. Fine, visit your blessed tits field, tinesters field, and I shall remain in the car. I can say with complete sincerity that I haven't the slightest desire to join you. A piercing whale erupted before he could

44:09finish. Draco swore, the sodding sneaker scope. Granger's head snapped towards him, her eyes leaving the road for one perilous instant as astonishment overtook her irritation. It's malfunctioning. Draco said at once, clearly, clearly, Granger echoed, with a gravity so profound it could only be malicious. He turned a harrowing glare upon the glove box, behind which the infernal object continued its accusation. Hoisted by your own pertard, Granger observed. Whatever murderous mood she had occupied moments earlier had vanished entirely. Her mouth had acquired a suspicious tightness at the corners, the unmistakable effort of someone refusing herself the pleasure of a grin. At last, the sneaker scopes wailed dwindled into silence. I'm going to throw that blasted thing out of the window. Don't! Granger's composure was rapidly failing her now. I've grown rather fond of it.

45:12They reached Tintstisfield with half an hour to spare, owing largely to Granger's surprisingly spirited interpretation of muggle traffic law. Speed limits? A suggestion, really. She remarked as the sneaker scope began singing again from the glove box. In the end, Granger managed to indulge both of her forbidden pleasures, the library, and the orangery. Draco, who remained wholly unmoved by either, discovered a poppy seed cake in the cafe that considerably improved his opinion of the excursion. Afterwards, they watched the sun sink together over Tintstisfield, the evening light stretching warm and gold across the grounds. They quarreled only four times. The sneaker scope may be the funniest character in this chapter. Not because it does anything complicated, it just refuses to let Draco get away with lying to himself. He can insist all day

46:13that Granger is merely his assignment, that his concern is professional, that he has no interest in her absurd little excursion to a library, and then the thing starts screaming from the glove box. There's something wonderfully undignified about having your own security equipment call you a liar. And the irritating part for Draco is that Granger doesn't even need the sneaker scope nearly as much as he does. She's already noticing him. She knows his coffee order, not because he told her. Apparently, a double espresso simply seemed like him, which is an oddly intimate sort of knowledge to acquire about somebody you've spent most of the day arguing with. She can tell when his anger after the green well is actually fear. She notices when he's funny, which seems to bother him far more than being insulted ever does. And by the time they're driving toward Tintstisfield, she can practically hear the lie before the sneaker scope confirms it. Draco is doing exactly the same thing to her, although he has a much more respectable name for it.

47:17Protection. He notices her biting her lip in the car. He notices where she looks when she doesn't want to answer him. He knows when she's about to launch into one of her lectures. He sees the difference between Granger complaining about a horrible ride and Granger being genuinely terrified by one. Even when she tries to hide how badly the ascent from the green well has shaken her, he quietly sees the trembling in her hands and chooses not to comment on it. That last part matters. Draco spends plenty of time needling her when he knows he can get a reaction. But when she's actually frightened, he leaves it alone. For all his complaints about her judgment, he seems to have learned where teasing stops being fun. And Granger's library trip exposes another small contradiction. Draco mocks it mercilessly because, of course, Hermione Granger's forbidden vice is visiting a historically significant library. But when he claims he has absolutely no desire to go with her, the sneaker scope objects.

48:19Maybe that doesn't mean he secretly loves Victorian libraries. The poppy seed cake seems considerably more persuasive on that front. But he does stay. They see the library. They see the orangery. They watch the sunset together. And apparently, for the two of them, an afternoon in which they quarrel only four times now qualifies as something approaching a pleasant outing.