The Council's Plan

Draco was sitting on a flat rock, looking at a huge waterfall from across a lake. He'd never seen anything like this before, and the constant thunder of falling water seemed to put him at ease. Ariulo smirked at him; if he'd been a betting man, Ariulo would have pegged Draco as water, which is why they'd come here.

"You've put us in quite a conundrum, Draco." Ariulo looked at him with quiet authority.

"How so?"

"Hermione," Ariulo said knowingly.

"She's mine." Draco turned and spoke in a tone that brooked no argument. It didn't matter that Ariulo had more power than Draco here: Hermione was his, had always been his, would always be his.

Ariulo chuckled. "You Europeans are all the same. You think you can own everything. You know nothing. You cannot own the waterfall. You cannot own a volcano. You cannot own Hermione." Ariulo looked up as Dondi scampered about in the branches up above. "You can only worship her, and pray that she will lend you her power."

Draco did not respond. Instead, he looked at the water and sighed. He knew differently. If he could just convince her to let him have her, she would be his, and they'd be happy, and she'd love him. She'd love him more than Potter or Weasley or anyone else. He'd gotten deep into his thoughts so he was surprised to hear Ariulo speak again.

"However, you have marked her so no one can touch her. She says she doesn't mind, but I see her with the children, and I can tell she wants one. Or several. You see her with Kress. I could tell by the way you looked at her yesterday as she held him that you would like to see her fat with your child. I know I would."

"Keep your hands off of her." Draco scowled at the man as he watched his beast in the tree.

"I can't even kiss her, as you well know. None of us can. Hermione is strong and would simply go without. She could live here and work and live for all her days, reveling in the children from other women's wombs. I don't think she'd be completely happy, though.

"Her being here with your mark disrupts the balance of our place. It is still fresh here, and novel, so people are tolerant. However, in time, I am certain that it will cause discord; her unhappiness will be our unhappiness.

"Fortunately, the best course of action for us may also be the best course of action for you. We can work together to keep Hermione happy and to bring her into your bed."

Here Draco's head shot up. He had expected these people to damn him and curse him, and cast him off, and here Ariulo was offering him exactly what he wanted. Instantly, he put his guard up. Things that sounded too good to be true usually were. "Somehow, I don't think it will be that simple."

"Simple? Yes. Easy? No. A mage can only be married to another mage. You would have to undergo mage training, go on a spirit quest, and if you are successful, I believe Hermione would be more interested in what you have to offer."

"What's in it for you?"

"Hermione's happiness. More new blood. You." Here, Ariulo moved to sit beside Draco, facing the opposite way so that their torsos were aligned and they could look at each other up close. "You, Draco, are a very powerful wizard; I can feel it radiate from you. It is a gift that helps me with my duties on the Council. We want you. You want Hermione. We have Hermione. I'm sure an agreement could be arranged." Ariulo pressed his hand into the stone and warmed it so it was soothing beneath them.

Draco looked at the other man. He had felt the stone heat beneath his legs, and looking at Ariulo, he could see dark embers in his eyes. It was seductive, but Draco had seen his father get seduced by the Dark Lord, and Draco had promised himself that he wouldn't do the same. He would find another way. "I kneel to no man." He looked away.

"If I am correct, you would be kneeling to Isova, who is a very lovely woman," Ariulo joked. "Here, we are non-secular. Everyone yields to the magic of the elements; all kneel so that when we stand we have powers that I can't even begin to describe."

Draco rolled his eyes.

Ariulo was not convinced of Draco's lack of interest. "Look at the falls, Draco. Good, now... I have seen Isova come to these falls and summon the water around her, shoot it up into the sky, so high you could not see the sky and laugh as it rained back down upon us at her command. That power could be yours," Ariulo finished with a gentle smile and an encouraging nod.

Draco swallowed loudly. "I must discuss this with my father."

"A wise move.... Come, it's time for lunch."

Hermione was more than relieved to get away from breakfast. Since every woman at breakfast had seen Draco in all his splendour, it was all they could talk about. These women spent way too much time thinking about sex. All through her meal Hermione had dodged questions about herself and Draco. Somehow, he was coming off as a misunderstood anti-hero, and she couldn't take it. Factor in his stature and physical makeup, and theories were born of how thoroughly he could shag a woman. Or two.

Hermione shook her head. It had essentially been forgotten that she had arrived here completely broken and seeking asylum from Ferret Boy. It was actually in this very field that she had collapsed, Kress having heard her utter the one word before she lost consciousness. Now she was swinging a great scythe, cutting down great fronds of stringy grass to make into books. Sometimes she used magic, but she liked the way the scythe felt in her hands, and Circe knew she had to burn off some of her anger from breakfast; she might as well get a workout. Hermione loved the way her arms and shoulders looked now that she could swing this great scythe like it was nothing.

She was so busy hacking down the field that she didn't hear Marcela walk up behind her. The older woman watched Hermione as she wore herself out. She knew the fiery witch would not appreciate the news Marcela was bringing, and it would be good strategy to catch her while she was tired. Finally, after Hermione had stacked and bound all the fronds to be processed, she turned around, nearly jumping out of her skin at the sight of Marcela.

"Jesus, Marcela, you scared the life out of me." Hermione clutched her chest and caught her breath.

Marcela chuckled. "Why is it that you only invoke this Jesus for small surprises?"

Hermione smiled. Because her mum had. The first owl at the window? Jesus! The first time Hermione came unannounced through the fireplace? Jesus! The first time Hermione Apparated into the backyard as her mum was hanging laundry? Jesus Christ, Hermione Jean Granger, you're going to give me a heart attack! Hermione blinked tears back from her eyes. "Old habit, Marcela. What are you doing down here, anyway?" Hermione moved to pet the little ball of fur whose head was poking out of Marcela's satchel.

"I have to tell you something important." From the look on her face, Hermione know that important meant unpleasant, as well as official, Council business.

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione said, dropping the scythe and standing evenly on her feet with her head bowed.

Marcela liked that Hermione never put off hardships. She always came against trouble with her shoulders strong and ready for action. "Ariulo is offering Draco the chance to train as a mage."

Hermione felt like she'd been punched in the gut. No. No-no-no-no-NO! This was supposed to be her asylum, her refuge, her place away from him. And Ariulo? Hadn't she just spent the night with him, preparing to fight Draco? She felt so betrayed. Everyone was just letting Draco do what he wanted; Draco Fucking Malfoy always did just what he wanted. She felt the tears slide down her face and then heard them drop to the ground. She'd never escape him. Never. She'd broken her wand for nothing. It all came to nothing.

Marcela was shocked at Hermione's response. She had never expected this from the young woman. She had been prepared with the Council's reasons for their decisions and had even put together a plan for an aggressive rebuttal. Marcela had never seen Hermione like this, and she had no idea what to do. "Do you have questions?"

Hermione just shook her head pitifully. Marcela bowed, then reached her arm out to squeeze Hermione gently on the shoulder before walking away. Once Marcela's back was turned, Hermione crumpled in the now short grass, curling up with Acara and crying until she was empty, falling asleep under the sun, her head pillowed on her cat.