Idyll

The Witch Bower

By Bambu

All disclaimers and author's notes may be found in Chapter One, except my undying gratitude to SnarkyWench continues unabated.

Chapter Four: Idyll

~o0o~

As the moon ascended its throne, the plains, the New Forest, and the guardians of the bower drew the power of the moon into the very heart of the tiny glade which had been wrought for its newest, most precious guest.

Magic, like sparkling, dancing moonbeams, held sway. The small eddy created by a newly concave rock submerged at river's edge gleamed as it spun in lazy circles. Where moonlight touched, a silver reflective surface shone; its images at once near and far: the round face of the moon; a roaring fire in an enormous fireplace; a semi-clothed branch hanging overhead, its leaves all but sacrificed to the coming winter; the pale face of a man, white hair fanned out on a pillow the color of New Forest bracken.

The moon rose higher in the night sky shrouding the eddy in darkness and images fractured into splinters of rainbow light.

Elsewhere, the bower's attention hovered above the young woman nestled upon a magical bed of broadleaf limbs, woven and clothed with green leaves. Her bare feet were tucked under the hem of a many times washed garment.

The bride was in her bower.

All would be well.

~o0o~

"... Granger."

It was my name spoken in a strangled sort of groan which woke me. It was impossible to tell if it was the remnants of a dream or a thing born of real time and space, and my brain felt wrapped in cotton wool, gauzy and sleep befuddled.

"... Hermione ... unh ..."

It was Draco's voice, but he didn't sound normal. It sounded as if he was in pain.

My eyes flew open and I rolled to the side, to get up.

Oh shit! Shit, shit, shit!

Great Merlin! Where was I?

I leapt to my feet. Just as on the Salisbury Plain, I felt grass beneath my bare soles and it was cool and wet. Wildly I turned, looking for something, anything familiar. But there was nothing here I recognized.

Where? How? Oh fuck! It was real. Last night was real.

My head swum with dizziness and my knees threatened to buckle.

"... Granger ... yes ..."

I shook my head. Adrenaline raced through me as if it was a Snitch in flight.

Draco? Where was he? Was he here? Was he hurt?

My need to find him, to make certain he was all right, overrode my sense of disorientation. It didn't matter how I came to be here ... or wherever here was for that matter. Draco needed me.

I opened my mouth to call for him and then shut it with a snap. Don't be a first-year, Hermione, I scolded. You fought in a war! What's wrong with you ... four years of peacetime has addled your brains. Constant vigilance!

Muscles and reflexes remembered first, and I crouched low to the ground, one hand feeling behind me as I backed under the corner of whatever platform I had been sleeping on, listening hard while my mind ricocheted like a Cornish Pixie. Were Draco and I the only ones in this woodland or were there others? Were we being watched? Who did this? Weren't all our enemies in Azkaban or rotting under the soil?

"... there ... right there ..."

Where?

My gaze flitted from tree to tree, skimming over rocks and ferns, settling briefly on the river not five meters distant. Draco was not to be seen.

The gurgling of the river was a constant background noise, but there was no sign or sound of anyone else. No humans, no animals in sight. If I wasn't so worried, the beauty of the glade would have enchanted me as narrow rays of sunlight spotted the landscape.

Disillusionment Charm? Projected Simulacrum? Invisibility Cloak?

"... unh ... there ..."

I could hear him panting between words. What had happened to him? My fear spiked.

The sound was coming from the direction of the river.

Blood pounded in my head and a gossamer touch of something prickled at the edges of my awareness. It reminded me of last night's strange experience, but I wasn't about to let someone or some thing access to my mind. I used the Occlumency proficiency Remus Lupin had taught me and repelled the attempted mental intrusion. Whatever it was might have toyed with me while I was asleep, but I was awake now, and Draco needed me.

Without a wand and only half-dressed there was little I could do defensively, however, if whoever had abducted me had wanted me dead, I wouldn't be crouching on the forest floor in threadbare flannel.

I had to find Draco.

Not quite confident of my own safety, I darted to the nearest tree, an ancient oak. When I tried to slip around the trunk, I made my second unpleasant discovery of the morning. There was a magical barrier beyond which I could not pass. It was invisible, fortunately not lethal to the touch, but it was impenetrable without my wand.

"Hermione." This time he wound it out into more than four syllables, and it was guttural.

Where was he?

I ignored the barrier in lieu of finding Draco -- was he hurt? bleeding? -– and dashed between trees, always on the inside of the invisible wall, hissing once when my bare foot landed on a pointy rock amidst the detritus carpeting the forest floor.

Nearing the river's edge, I crept close to a small curving sort of -- inlet, I supposed. The water looked very still. Perhaps it would be quieter there ... babbling brook indeed. The water was glassy, mirror-like as the sun's rays refracted off the top of the quiet little niche. Here, adjacent to the still pool of water, I could hear Draco again.

My fingers braced against the trunk of the tree I used as cover. Subconsciously my fingers traced the rough patterns of the bark where pieces of the tree's outer skin had broken off. It grounded me somehow, and I balanced lightly on the balls of my feet, ready to duck or run if necessary.

"Yes, Granger. Come."

I took a step ... the glossy surface of the water as reflective as a mirror.

There was Draco.

In the pool of water – no, not in the pool but on the pool -- on the surface of the water I could see an image of Draco.

He was lying on his back on a four-poster bed. He was naked.

"Draco?" I whispered, afraid someone might hear. I crept closer, trying to see whether he was all right.

His eyes flew open and he shouted my name, writhing on the bed.

Oh my god.

One of his hands worked furiously, stroking his erection, while viscous white fluid coated his hand and his taut abdomen. I couldn't tell what his other hand was doing since it was hidden from my sight between his legs. But he bucked wildly.

"Granger ... oh, gods ... Granger." He groaned.

Circe.

I knelt at the side of the pond, ignoring the suspicion that he'd put me here for some reason because that made no sense at all. If I could see him, perhaps he could see me.

If he saw me he could find me.

Craning my neck, I checked around the small clearing. It remained devoid of human or animal forms. So no animagi to worry about; and I'd never heard of such a thing as a Floramagus.

"Draco?" I asked quietly.

"Granger?" He shot bolt upright, covering himself with the sheet. Absently I noticed that the material stuck to wherever his ejaculate had dotted his body. I would have been seriously aroused under other circumstances.

"Yes! Draco, help me. I've been taken --" Anything else I might have said was lost as a handful of acorns splashed into the pool, fracturing the image. Draco's face and hands and naked chest were carried apart on ripples made by the disturbances of the acorns.

I would be a fool not to realize the interruption was deliberate.

I whirled and raced back to the relative safety of my tree trunk, my heart rate somewhere between fear and frantic. Something ... someone ... some entity was battering at my Occlumency shields, but I wasn't giving way. I crouched and felt for anything I could use as a weapon. I only found two small stones and three acorns, nothing useful against a wand-wielding captor.

Then, shielding for all I was worth, I looked for an escape.

There were numerous openings between trees, but I suspected they were warded against my leaving. The river might be an option. I watched the small pool, waiting for the surface to calm – maybe I could see Draco again – estimating how far from deeper water this niche was. Did the barrier meet at the water's surface? Could I swim beneath it? How long could I hold my breath?

Wait a minute.

It had taken me some time to realize some of the trees weren't merely stunted or broken as I'd originally assumed, but now I noticed there was a design, some purpose to a number of the young trees and even a few of the larger trees. There was furniture. Near the platform where I had awakened there was a very large oak. My initial impression had been that the trunk was misshapen. Now, however, I could tell that the odd protrusion was shaped like a ... chair.

It also appeared that the platform where I'd awoken was a crude sort of bed, with leaves for a mattress. Casting my eyes around the small glade I noticed other things. A narrow ledge formed from the trunk of a broadleaf tree, just at the right height to be a desk or a table. For a desk chair, a smooth rock was situated at exactly the right height – my height.

An atavistic chill shuddered up my spine. Until proven otherwise, I would operate on the principle that none of this was coincidence and that indeed someone had fashioned this little prison for me.

I glanced back at the river.

Defensive tactics ... escape tactics. Think, Hermione, think. You're addlepated.

No, I was hungry and needed to find a bathroom. Fear may have driven me thus far, but after the first flush of adrenaline had worn off, other bodily needs clamored for my attention.

I could use the river, but I had to drink the water at some point – the Muggle part of my mind screamed, you can't drink this, what about giardia cysts? -- and I didn't really want to drink where I ... erm ... well.

A pit latrine would work well. I could find a good digging stick, maybe a thin sheet of deadfall ... abruptly, I got angry with myself. Stop thinking as if you're going to be here for a long time ... you're going to escape.

I knew better than to venture into the water when the likelihood of my being seen was greatest. Nightfall was only a few hours off. Patience had been a hard-earned virtue during the war years. Nonetheless, I knew how to wait.

Now I would deal with my most pressing problem: my bladder.

I rose slowly, keeping my body hidden as best I could – although for all I knew whoever was watching had set up surveillance and could see everything. That thought alone was a bit unnerving.

Something pressed against my mind and I shielded with as much strength as I could muster. It seemed to be enough. Whatever it was left me alone, for the moment.

When I stepped cautiously into the clearing, I noticed three areas of the glade which were effectively screened off: one near the sleeping platform, another on the other side of the sleeping platform between two large trees, and another by a dark tree leaning across the river.

It looked ... could it be ... my word.

Carefully, I made my way to an oddly shaped tree near the river, dodging around ferns which grew to my waist and around large gray rocks, stubbing my bare toes only once when I was too busy looking for hidden observers or a telltale shimmer of a badly cast Disillusionment Spell.

When I reached the tree which leaned over the river's edge I knew I had found my bathroom.

I was down-stream from the mirrored pool where the current ran swift. A protrusion of the tree's own trunk jutted out over the running water. Even more startling, was that it was a loop ... with an open center. My kidnapper, whoever it was, had fashioned a toilet seat for me out of a living tree. From the nearby proximity of a flourishing overgrowth of chest-height braken, I would be hidden from most everything upstream. It seemed I had a relatively private Water Closet.

By now my need was urgent, and there really wasn't a better option. Once again, however, I scanned the area restlessly. That magical presence lurked just beyond my Occlumency shields, waiting as a Kneazle will stalk its prey. Under the circumstances it really wasn't surprising that it took me a few minutes to relax, but I did.

"Granger?"

I yelled, "I'm here!"

"Granger, all right there?"

I clambered off the tree loop, scrambling across the clearing, sliding to my knees at the edge of the pool. Once more it was mirror-like. Where the sun's beam glanced off the surface I could see Draco, but he was no longer in bed or even the same room. Instead he was in my flat, in my bedroom. It looked as if he was talking to himself.

"Granger?" he called, sticking his head into my bathroom.

"I'm here. I don't know where I am but I'm here." He acted as if he hadn't heard me.

"Fuck, Hermione ... don't do this to me." He'd dressed hastily, the top buttons of his shirt were out of order and his hair was in disarray.

I dug my fingers into the damp mossy edge of the pool. "I'm not there. I was taken last night. Please find me."

He strode from my bedroom, and over the burbling of the river, I could hear him tearing through my flat as if making certain I wasn't lying hurt somewhere. My chest was tight and it suddenly hurt to breathe. He had only told me once that he loved me. But this ... this showed me.

I called, heedless of any eavesdropping captor, "I love you, Draco."

The rummaging noise stopped. "Granger?"

The sound of running footsteps drowned out my, "I'm here," and he entered my bedroom, chest heaving. Swiftly he surveyed the room again and then dropped to his knees next to my bed, raising the bed-skirt to peer underneath. His face had lost all trace of color when he stood, clutching my wand in his hand. "Hermione ... love ... God."

"Draco," I whispered.

His head whipped around. I saw his mouth move and could read the words he was saying. "Where are you?" Then I heard the next bit. "Granger, where the fuck are you?"

"I don't know. Can you hear me?" Again he didn't respond to my question, and I started to cry. "Draco, why can't you hear me?"

"Hermione, I hear you. Where are you? Are you all right?"

"No, Draco, I'm not all right. Well I'm not hurt, but I'm somewhere in a forest. I don't know how I got here."

His lips moved. He was speaking, but why couldn't I hear him? "... Granger, I'll find you. I won't lose you."

My heart clenched and the tears came faster. "Draco."

His lips moved.

I whispered, unconsciously reaching for the image of him shimmering across the water's surface like a slick of Mandrake oil. "I love you."

He started shouting, his cheeks flushed. "... Granger!"

"What?"

"Granger!" It was louder now, more desperate.

"Draco, I'm here, I can see you. Why can't you see me? Why can you only hear me sometimes?"

He spun on his boot heel, talking fast, but I only heard the end. "... Granger, do you?"

"Do I what?"

And then I got it. I'm not usually so slow-witted, but I also had never been kidnapped before, even after everything that had happened during the war.

"Draco, I can only hear what you say after you use my name."

I read his lips.

"Draco, I didn't hear that, but I saw your lips move."

"Granger, what happened? Do you have any idea who took you? What they want? Where you are?"

"I have no idea what happened. I did have the strangest experience last night, Draco. I couldn't tell if it was real or the most surreal dream I've ever had, but if it was real, then maybe where I am is linked to it. Did you know your ancestors look just like you?"

"Granger, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Draco, your ancestors look just like you."

He raked his fingers through his hair. It was a clear sign of his anxiety and frustration. I remembered the gesture well from six years of school and shared classes. "Granger, stay on track. What do my ancestors have to do with your abduction?"

"It's because of what happened last night, Draco."

"Granger, stop just saying my name."

Oh.

I'm a complete berk.

"Draco, sorry. I had a very strange experience last night, but I thought it was a dream. Now I'm not so sure. It was quite surreal, and --"

"Granger, we can have an intellectual discussion some other time. Right now I need to know everything that would help me find you. Everything I've tried has been useless, even the bloody Four Point Spell."

"Sorry, Draco, but the experience could be relevant. What were you doing at the estate last night?"

"Granger, what does that have to do with your abduction?"

A cloud passed over the sun and our connection was lost.

Just like that.

One moment we were talking and the next minute the connection was gone. I was left staring at the clear, idly swirling surface of a minor river eddy.

Choking on a sob, I reached for the place Draco's image had just been, leaning forward, enough for my chest to press into the edge of the riverbank. My fingers broke the surface of the water, creating a small, ripple effect.

He was gone.

With my emotional state in such turmoil it was difficult to maintain my Occlumency shielding and I felt the would-be invader searching for an opening. I dug my fingers into the damp moss and took both a deep breath and firmer control of my mind.

Think analytically, Hermione.

Shifting my balance and twisting my upper body, I looked up, through intertwining branches toward the sky. All I could see through the forest's canopy were dark clouds. The obvious correlation was that the pool required sunlight to operate. A sweeping glance across the glade confirmed that there were no sunny patches to be found.

I got to my feet. The sun would shine again, and I would make the most of my opportunity when it did – providing this wasn't some sort of mind-fuck game of my kidnapper's. But I didn't think it was. Something that wicked wouldn't resort to dropping acorns in a pond to interrupt a conversation.

My tummy growled at that moment, but I ignored it. I did dip my fingers into the pool, rinsing off the mud I'd gotten under my fingernails from the ground, and then splashed my face with some of the cool water.

It was time to assess my surroundings.

Draco would need that information to find me. I have no idea how long it took me to feel my way around the perimeter, except out into the river, but my stomach was twisting with hunger by the time I'd finished my circuit. It was a bit eerie realizing I was essentially in a room furnished entirely by and from nature. When I returned to the river's edge, I used the Water Closet once more, using two leaves which obligingly dropped at my feet.

Afterward, I gathered several arms' worth of deadfall bracken. It wasn't terribly comfortable, but it would serve as a barrier between me and the damp ground by the pool. I had no idea how long my wait would be.

I made my bed near the clump of tall-standing ferns nearest the pool, and used a broad boulder as a headboard. Then I settled in to wait the reappearance of the sun. After awhile my thoughts strayed to my reluctance to make a relationship with Draco permanent. My feelings about the subject had shifted sometime between my anxiety attack in the restaurant and now. Possibly it was a result of the strange ritual on the plains, or perhaps it had been seeing evidence of Draco's attachment – he couldn't have known I was watching – or maybe my thinking had grown clouded following the war, because it seemed clear to me now that my fears about our relationship were trivial. They could become significant if we didn't talk about them openly, but they were manageable. We weren't my parents. How had I not realized this before?

The snapping of a twig sent all thoughts of Draco from my mind and I held my breath to be able to hear better. Turning my head – slowly -- I surveyed the glade. Once again there was nothing there.

Then I looked the other way.

Across the river, not five meters distant stood a small, Fallow Deer. It wasn't grazing, rather it was paying attention to something in my general direction. Perhaps it saw something I could not, perhaps it was an Animagus, come to watch me, except it wasn't looking in my direction. It seemed to be looking somewhere mid-air.

I didn't move, just stared.

After several heart-pounding moments, the deer stepped toward the river. I'd always liked to watch the way deer moved. Their movements were often stilted and jerky, but when they bounded across a distance, they were amazing. I noticed that when this deer bounded from the river's edge in an attempt to cross – an easy meter leap – it smacked into a barrier it couldn't see.

I felt an unexpected kinship with the small animal.

It leapt back onto the river bank.

My eyes grew dry from watching, but after another long wait, it approached the water once more ... only the deer moved upriver, beyond the place I knew my prison's walls were.

That answered my question about whether the river could provide me an escape. I would prefer not to get wet in this weather. I wasn't particularly warm, but the night would grow cold. I wriggled deeper into my bedding as if to create and conserve body heat. The noise startled the Fallow Deer and in four great bounds it was gone.

My stomach growled again and I kneaded it with a knuckled fist. It wasn't as if I hadn't been hungry before. In those horrid two years after we'd left Hogwarts, Ron, Harry, and I had gone without meals more times than I could count. By the last confrontation with Voldemort, we were too thin, and it was only Harry and I who were left. In some ways, our grief over Ron's death and our near-starvation had fed our need to end the war, to come home, to eat a Molly-made meal.

That first night after we had assassinated Voldemort, when the rest of Britain was shooting off Weasley's Wizarding Wheeze fireworks – the store run profitably by a suitably chastened Percy – I sat in the hall of St. Mungo's while the Healers worked frantically on Harry. Care-worn Molly Weasley brought me some of her stew and fresh bread. I think it was the best meal I have ever eaten.

My mouth practically watered at the thought of her oven fresh bread with a slab of butter melting across the hot surface. I could practically smell it now.

I blinked at the memory. I needed to do something. The sky remained cloudy, but the perimeter needed checking again.

When I stood, there was something different about the glade. I didn't know what exactly, but something. I felt an external presence battering at my mind, and Occluded with as much power as I could draw on and still function. Although, maintaining the mental shield was harder than it had been earlier in the day. Then I had been refreshed from sleep and adrenaline ... ah ... adrenaline crash. I would have to watch that, and I would have to make a decision about the water soon. It was possible to survive without food for several days only if I stayed hydrated. That was another little trick we'd learned fighting a vigilante war. Aguamenti had become a spell I could cast blindfolded and rendered mute ... but I had never cast it without my wand, and I was wandless now.

While these thoughts rattled around in my head, I marked the perimeter, assessing the barrier for any sign of weakness or change. By the time I reached the sleeping platform, I discovered what had changed in my forest cell. There was something on the 'table' protrusion.

Cautiously I approached the table, avoiding the stone seat. If I sat, it would limit my response-time. On the flat, bark-covered surface were three items, two of which were filled. Each of those was made of bark, and they looked identical to the same bark as the 'table'. While I stared at the cup and bowl, I thought of the Neolithic Malfoy's pouch and his animal stomach filled with water.

The bowl was curved, using the natural inclination of the bark itself, and held a mound of berries, a small handful of grain, and some sort of nut, still in the shell. I couldn't tell what was in the cup, but water was the most plausible assumption. The third item was a small, palm-shaped rock. I puzzled over its use for a moment until I thought about the nuts. I almost laughed at the primitive nutcracker, but it wasn't really funny.

The food might be poisoned or dosed with some sort of potion. Then again, this could all be a hallucination of some sort.

I looked down at my filthy nighty, the round grassy stains where I'd knelt at the river's edge.

It would have been easy to kill me, but I hadn't been hurt.

If this was a psychological game someone was playing, they were very, very clever. Remembering the acorns, I shook my head. Still, I needed to eat, but the table was too unprotected, too open.

I balanced the rock on the bowl and carried it and the cup back to my bed of bracken. The first, easiest test was the water, and I smacked my increasingly dry mouth at the thought of quenching my thirst. Settling down on the makeshift bed, I leaned against the stone, placing the bowl on my lap before examining the cup. It was made of birch bark and the seam was perfect. I was certain it had been made with magic.

But if magic was being used by my captors, why didn't they just give me a real cup and a bowl? Why was the food so unrefined, so raw?

There was a mystery here and I was growing convinced that it was linked to my previous night's experience. Malfoy's ancestor had used rudimentary – stone aged – tools.

My stomach growled again.

It seemed there was no time like the present to see if I could manage some wandless magic. I knew it wasn't really possible, but every witch or wizard had, at some point in their lives, performed spontaneous, undirected magic, and Harry and I had been able to conjure water out of desperation.

Closing my eyes, I brought the cup to my lips and sniffed. It smelled like water. If it hadn't been so dry, my mouth would have watered in anticipation. I thought about my magic and then formed the spell as clearly and distinctly as possible in my mind. "Purify!"

Nothing really happened. Oh, I could feel my magical ability flowing like blood, but there had been no spark of light, no sizzle of magic. For all I knew nothing had happened.

Still, I would hope for the best.

I stuck out my tongue and dipped the tip into the liquid in the cup. We'd learned that lesson the hard way. I remembered Harry being horribly ill from pond water. He had spent three days vomiting, shivering, and sweating. It was terrifying, and Ron and I argued bitterly over what to do. When Harry vomited blood, Ron gave in. We took him to Hogwarts, too afraid to go to St. Mungo's.

Poppy Pomfrey scolded us something fierce even as she poured three potions down Harry's throat in rapid succession. She hid us in her office for two days, and then helped sneak us out of the castle in the dead of night. As a farewell gift, she gave each of us a small bottle of tablets to make almost any water potable. She was one of the few people I kept in touch with on a regular basis.

I remembered her lecture. "You never drink questionable water. Stick your tongue in it first. If it becomes numb then spit everything out. If not, then wait half an hour before trying to drink. Small sips, mind you. And wait in between to make sure. You'll undoubtedly know if it's tainted fairly quickly. Still, it's best to drink from a running river if you've no other choice. Drink from the fastest running part you can reach ... and use those tablets."

If the birch bark cup held tainted water, then I would have to see about wading into the stream to get a drink, but I felt no taint, no metallic taste, just clean, cool water which was very, very refreshing. It was difficult to wait between sips, but patience was my watchword.

After drinking a third of the water, I turned my attention to the food. I attempted the same sort of wandless magic, holding my opened hand, palm facing down, over the berries, the grain, the nuts and the rock. "Purify!

I ate a berry first. The high water content made it an ideal choice. It looked like a bramble berry, and it burst in a tart explosion of flavor in my mouth. Fortunately, there was no tang of fermentation. I ate the rest of the berries and tested the grain in the same manner.

My only difficulty came in opening the nuts. The birch bark bowl was unacceptable to use as a surface and the ground around me too springy. In the end I used my headboard – I refused to call it a headstone, although having had that thought, the word bounced around in my brain like a rogue Bludger. This would not be my final resting place. I wouldn't let it be.

While I finished my meal, another of the forest's inhabitants came by my small glade. With racing heart and sweaty palms, I snapped my head in the direction of a rustling of leaves. Just beyond the invisible barricade was a small, russet and white, shaggy pony.

In that moment I knew where I was. These ponies didn't just wander the length and breadth of Britain. No, these ponies were found in a few protected lands across the isles. Considering my adventures of the evening before, it was logical to assume I was in the New Forest, to the south and east of Stonehenge.

As soon as the thought crossed my mind, my Occlumency shields suffered a fresh onslaught. I actually swayed under the attempt, but didn't yield, although it was growing more difficult to hold onto my personal defenses.

While I pondered the identity of my would-be mental invader, I stared at the small woodland pony. One of my hands was suspended between bowl and mouth, and when I realized that, I smiled and popped the hazelnut onto my tongue. Several minutes later the pony ambled off, disappearing behind a tall clump of ferns.

When I heard his voice this time, I was standing in the river washing my face and hands in the tickling current.

"Granger didn't do this. You know her, cousin. She's not the type." He sounded angry.

"Draco!" I shouted as I sloshed my way out of the river, taking mincing steps, careful not to fall on the rocks.

"Granger?" He sounded incredulous.

"Draco, I'm coming. Wait."

"Granger, you're driving me out of my mind. Are you all right?"

I slipped on the ground cover trying to get to the pool quickly, landing hard on my bum. But I didn't waste a moment, scrambling on all fours to the pool's edge.

His image was in a different location on the still pool and I had to lean out, over the water. It would be disastrous if I fell in. The break in the cloud cover revealed a sun already on its descent toward the horizon. Draco's hair appeared like a golden crown and his face glowed a warm hue. I noticed he was in what appeared to be a study, with saffron walls and cozy couches, and there was a fire in the fireplace. I almost cried when I saw Tonks standing at the mantle. Her hair was the shade of a raven's wing, the color she used when she was serious, or in battle. Seated to her left was another Auror, judging by his robes, but I didn't know him. He was obviously junior because he was the one taking notes.

I spoke fast. "Draco, listen. I don't think I have much time. My ability to see and hear you depends on the sun. I was taken from home by some force, some magical entity which I've never encountered before. I had an extremely strange experience on the plains before waking up in the forest. I'm in some sort of a glade which is approximately five by ten meters in size. There's a river at one of the boundaries and the whole thing is protected by invisible shields. I don't know how strong they are because I haven't my wand. There are rudimentary amenities – and I do mean rudimentary – and something keeps trying to gain access to my mind."

The junior Auror charmed the quill to record my words, its pale gray feather bobbing in the air as the nib scribbled as quickly as I spoke.

Draco had leaped to his feet to pace while I talked. "... Granger, damn it!"

"What? I mean ... argh ... Draco, what did you say?"

"Granger, I said Occlude then, damn it!"

"I am. Draco, I am. I have been ever since I woke. I'm exhausted and I feel it prying at my mind all the time now. Or maybe it's trying harder, I'm not sure which."

He spun, trying to orient on the sound of my voice. I could see Tonks asking questions, but I heard nothing.

"Granger?" Draco asked.

"Draco?"

"Hermione, answer Tonks."

"Draco, I didn't hear Tonks. What did she ask?"

"Granger, this is the most bollixed up method of talking. Tonks wants to know if you can give us any hint of where you're being held."

Oh. I hadn't said.

"Draco, I saw a Fallow Deer this morning, but they're everywhere. This afternoon, though, I saw a pony. A shaggy, small pony. I think I might be in the New Forest."

His head came up. "Granger, are you sure?"

"Draco, no, I'm not sure. But it makes sense considering the strange experience from last night. I was at Stonehenge then."

"Granger, you might be right outside my bloody door." He whirled toward Tonks, his face a mask of infuriated impotence. I couldn't hear all of what he said. "... Granger doesn't make mistakes. You know that. If she says she's in the New Forest, then we're going to search every fucking twig until we find her."

I think I loved him more at that moment than ever before. The color of his hair turned orange, and my mouth was instantly dry. "Draco ... Draco, I haven't much time."

He whipped around again. "Granger, keep talking to me. Don't stop talking."

"Draco the sun's going down. Look, if something happens ..."

"Granger, shut the hell up. I will find you, even if it takes my standing on a street corner begging for help. You hold on. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Draco, I do. I will. I just wanted you to know –"

"... Granger, don't say it. You'll say it in person. Do you hear me, Hermione? You'll tell me in person."

"All right. Draco, all right. Find me, Draco."

His image shone off the water in a great golden gleam of light and then the image splintered into a thousand mirrored images if his frantic face before disappearing completely from sight.

The pool was simply an eddy of water once more.

Loneliness bit me hard then, and I stared for a very long time at the water, looking through the clear surface, down to the flat stone bottom.

I shivered suddenly and realized it was getting chilly. Shaking off my melancholy and firming up my mental shields, I walked the perimeter of my prison once more, seeing if there was a warmer place to be found. I didn't really want to move from the pool's side, because, well, I was closer to Draco there.

On my circuit, I discovered a most intriguing thing when I examined the sleeping platform. There was a quilt of leaves, woven together with magic, but it spread the length of the platform, and I thought it would make an excellent cover for my bed of bracken. Aside from my filthy flannel nightgown, it would be my only cover.

By the time dusk was falling, there was another cup of water and bowl of berries, nuts, and grains waiting for me upon the hip-height table. I collected the food and returned to my bed of bracken and leaves, settling under the surprisingly heavy blanket of foliage. It wasn't full dark yet, but I wanted to build up some warmth before true night fell. Again I used the wandless Purification Charm for whatever good it might do and ate my small meal. I chewed slowly, remembering the times Harry, Ron, and I had shared a single helping. The slower you ate the more you tricked your system into thinking you'd actually eaten enough.

Saving three of the nuts – already shelled – I visited the Water Closet one last time before crawling under the blanket for the night. I huddled under the leaves, smelling the fresh green smell, wishing with every cell of my being that Draco would find me, and knowing that I couldn't hold my mental shields indefinitely.

Alone, miserable, and frightened, I closed my eyes and tried to pour all of my remaining determination into protecting my mind. It might have been an hour that I remained curled in a fetal position before the stresses of the day took their toll and I fell asleep with the gurgle of the river as my lullaby.

~o0o~