12

"Malfoy! Come back here!" Hermione shouted. She slipped in the mud and managed to grab hold of a headstone shaped like an angel to keep herself from falling. "Wait!"

Draco could not believe where he was! Of all the luck! He heard Hermione shouting, but didn't care; all he wanted to do was reach the door. He sprinted through the tall, wrought iron gates that were opened wide as if inviting him and then ran as fast as he could up the flagstone path.

As soon as his feet hit the front porch, he knew something wasn't right. "What the hell..." He slowly reached his fingers out to stroke the door knocker, and then it fell limply to his side. His brow furrowed in confusion as he looked around at his surroundings. He was staring intently at the sprawling front lawn with its ghostly white marble statues and fountains when Hermione finally caught up.

She sat down on the front steps, trying to take deep breaths. She was sweaty, hot and tired to the point of exhaustion. "Do you know where we are?" she asked, looking up at him. He didn't answer, but continued examining everything with a confused look on his face. "Malfoy!"

He glanced at her briefly and then turned to feel the knocker again. "Weird!" he said under his breath.

"Do you know who lives here?" she asked, wanting to shake him.

"I thought I did," he said.

"What do you mean?" She stood up, clutching the stitch in her side. "Do you or don't you?"

"I was so sure..." he trailed off.

Hermione had enough of his annoying mysterious attitude. She took the knocker in her hand and pounded it twice on the heavy oak door.

Draco pushed her roughly out of the way. "Why did you do that?" he said, panicking.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" Hermione asked, concerned, as he started to shake, his eyes huge with fright.

Draco whirled around to flee down the steps just as the door opened. He stopped in his tracks, his hand on the railing, his heart beating rapidly.

"You must be the Healers my grandfather said would be coming," an attractive woman said from the shadows. "Please, come in." She eyed Hermione's outfit curiously as she walked past and into the house. "Are you coming in?" she asked Draco, who was still frozen on the steps.

He took a huge breath, gathered his courage and turned to face her. She looked at him strangely, as if recognizing him. He, on the other hand, didn't know her at all, which relieved him!

"That's an interesting wardrobe choice," the woman said, amused. She tossed her blond hair over her shoulder and grinned at him, her green eyes sparkling.

"What? Oh." Draco looked down at his blood-stained wool garment. "Um... we just came from a costume party." He quickly used his wand to dress himself in proper Healer attire, and Hermione did likewise.

"Is this your house?" Draco asked her, studying a portrait of a very old man and woman that was hanging on the wall in the foyer.

"It will be."

"What do you mean, 'will be'?" Hermione asked, stepping forward beside Draco and looking at the painting. She was shocked because this was obviously a wizard's house and here was an unmoving Muggle painting hanging on the wall in the front hall.

"This Manor has been in our family for generations. My grandfather, who is very ill, is the present owner. I am the oldest grandchild, not to mention his favorite, and he has told me that I will inherit all of this when he passes away." There was the unmistakable sound of sorrow in her voice. "I'm afraid that will be soon. He has taken a turn for the worse, and he knows he doesn't have long to live."

Draco stared at the loving couple in the picture. There was something very familiar about them, but he couldn't put his finger on it. "What did you say your grandfather's name was?"

"I didn't," the woman said with a smirk.

"Well?" Draco asked, dragging his eyes away from the portrait. "Are you going to tell us?"

The woman laughed, "I'm afraid I can't tell you his name."

"Why not?" Hermione asked, intrigued.

"Because he told me that under no circumstances was I to tell you his name," she said. "Now, I must insist that you come with me. He said he wanted to see you as soon as you arrived."

Hermione touched the woman on the arm. "You said he was expecting us. How can that be? Does he know us?"

"My grandfather has always been a mysterious man. He never volunteers information. He told me that you would be coming... described the time and what you would look like."

Draco frowned. "He gives you elusive and strange instructions, and you just follow them without question?"

They came to a door and stopped. "I love my grandfather, and I trust him with all my heart. If he says to do something, I do it because I know he has his reasons. It is not my place to question him, but it is my duty as a loving granddaughter to make his final days as peaceful as possible."

She opened the door slowly and peeked her head inside. "They are here, Grandfather."

"Send them in," a raspy voice said from the dark room.

The granddaughter handed Hermione the lamp and ushered them inside. After shutting the door behind them, they were left in silence.

"I have been expecting you, Draco," the old man said.

They both looked down at the shrunken man laying in a huge four-poster bed with the red velvet hangings and said nothing. They were absolutely amazed that this man was actually alive. He was more wrinkled than a prune, and his hair was so gossamer and wispy that it looked like cobwebs floating in the air. His skin was so thin that every vein and blood vessel was visible, and his eyes were so faded that it was impossible to know what color they were.

He smiled at Draco, and to their astonishment, they saw that he still had teeth. "I have waited for this moment almost my whole life!" he chuckled softly. "You are just as I remember! Handsome, smart and so full of yourself!"

Draco jumped as the man's bony cold fingers grabbed his arm and dug in. "Do not think you are going to remain that good looking your entire life! Old age will creep up on you and bite you in the ass when you least expect it!" He let go of Draco's arm and turned his attention to Hermione, who was holding back the urge to run out of the room. "And you," he said sadly. "Hermione."

Hermione glanced at Draco, who just shrugged his shoulders at her. "Yes?" she said timidly.

"You are even more beautiful than I remember! Those tender caring eyes, that wild hair, those soft inviting lips." He started to sob. "Oh, why? Why did you have to leave? Come back, I'm so alone, so frightened!" He was becoming hysterical, and Hermione rushed towards him, sat on the bed and took him in her arms.

"Shh! It'll be all right," she said in a soothing voice, as if talking to a child. He cried as she held him, and Hermione found herself tearing up as well. Why was she so emotional? What was it about this dying man that felt so familiar to her, so strangely comforting?"

Draco stood at the foot of the bed, watching Hermione rock the man as he cried her name over and over. There was something building up inside of him, some weird feeling of deja vu. He knew this man, knew him very well, and the understanding of what was happening suddenly came crashing down upon him. "I need to get out of here!" he said and fled from the room.

He slammed the door behind him and ran down the hall to the bathroom that he knew was the third door on the right. He reached the toilet just before the dinner he had eaten in Crete came spewing from his mouth. He retched some more, his head spinning, the feeling of inertia overwhelming him.

"Are you all right?" Hermione said from the other side of the door.

Draco leaned up against the wall, trying to catch his breath. His throat was burning from the puke, and his body was covered in a layer of cold sweat. He struggled to get to his feet and grabbed hold of the sink with trembling hands. "I'm fine, Granger. Just a little sick." He turned on the cold water and splashed his face.

"I'll wait out here in the hall for you," she said, very concerned. "Let me know if you need me."

"Fine," he managed to say. Gripping the edge of the blue marble with both hands, he starred at his reflection in the mirror. He was extremely pale, but his cheeks were splotched with bright dots of pink. He suddenly closed his eyes and silently cried tears of anguish. Of all the places in the fucking world, why did they have to come here?

"Draco?" Hermione knocked softly on the door.

He opened it a second later and then stepped out into the hall. It was clear to Hermione that he had been crying. His eyes were swollen and he looked... well... horrible! "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?" He refused to look her in the face and stared instead at the white carpet under his feet. He felt Hermione's fingers on his arm, and he shrank from her touch. "How is the old man?" he asked her, just to say something. He hoped the man was dead and that he would never have to go back into that room again.

Hermione slowly let her hand fall back to her side. "He's sleeping." She was very concerned about Draco's mental state. He seemed detached, nervous and not at all like himself. "The granddaughter has prepared a small meal for us, and she said that we are to stay the night."

"I don't want to spend the night here!" Draco just about screeched. "I'd rather... die." He said the last word painfully and willed himself not to rip out all his hair and run screaming from the house like a frigging lunatic.

"Draco, what is wrong with you?" Hermione asked. "If you know something about who this man is and why we're here, tell me!"

He looked hard at her. "I have no idea who that man is, and I definitely have no fucking clue why we're here." He hoped his face didn't betray him. He knew exactly who that shrunken, dying, heartbroken man was down the hall, and he had more than a slight inkling of why they were in this house.

The granddaughter came out of the room and walked silently up the hall towards them. "I wish I knew how you got him to sleep like that," she said to Hermione. "Usually he just sits there in his bed, alternating between crying for my dead grandmother and talking to someone named Dumbledore, who is not there. He rarely sleeps."

Hermione glanced at Draco, who was showing no emotion whatsoever, but was staring at the wall.

"Shall we go to the dining room?" She lifted the lamp and bid them to follow her.

Hermione noticed that Draco was walking like a zombie. It was like he wasn't seeing anything, but his feet were dragging him in the right direction.

"By the way, you never told us your name," he suddenly said.

She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. "Forgive my manners! I'm terribly sorry! My name is Amethyst – Amee for short."

"What's your last name?" he questioned rather rudely.

The woman narrowed her eyes. "I'm not allowed to tell you what it is."

"Of course you're not!" Draco said sarcastically. "That would make too much sense!"

"Draco! You're being rude!" Hermione said, appalled.

"And this woman and her grandfather are not?" he said. "We didn't choose to come here. We were forced! They obviously know that and are purposely keeping information from us!"

"Still! You shouldn't be so damn rude! We are guests in this house!"

Draco laughed. "Guests! Let me tell you something, Granger. This is m..."

The woman shot Draco a shrewd look that immediately stopped him from finishing his sentence and took a seat at the long dinning room table. "Please, just sit and eat. I will try to answer as many of your questions as I can without going against my grandfather's wishes."

Draco and Hermione took seats next to each other, and both unfolded their napkins and placed them on their laps. Three house-elves came through the door at the back of the richly furnished room and sat steaming tureens of food in front of them.

"Would Miss care for some roasted chicken with rosemary?" said a high-pitched voice at Hermione's elbow.

"Um... sure," she said. "Thank you kindly."

After their plates were filled with samples of all the scrumptious dishes and the elves left them, Hermione opened her mouth to tell Amee about S.P.E.W. and the plight of the house-elves.

"I know what you are going to say, and before you ramble on about how poorly elves are treated, I just want to tell you that all ten of the house-elves in this Manor are paid for their services, and they receive paid vacation and sick time when they need it."

Hermione's jaw just about dropped onto her plate, and her fork was frozen in her hand in midair. "They are?"

"Yes. My grandmother insisted on it. I wasn't born yet, but my mother told me that they got in many heated arguments about the elves." Amee laughed lightly. "Dear Grandfather raged and raged, saying it was not proper to pay them and give them clean clothes, nor treat them like pets. My grandmother was one tough cookie! She never backed down when she truly believed in a cause!" She sipped her wine and then continued. "He loved her so much that he would do anything to make her happy. He would try to act all angry and pretend that he was the boss, but we all knew that all she had to do was give him a loving look and he would give in completely."

Draco snorted laughter and took a bite of his mashed potatoes.

"Something funny?" Amee inquired.

"He sounds like a pussy whipped fool, and she sounds like an Amazon with balls of steel!"

She smirked at him, reminding him so much of himself that he choked on his peas. "That description is spot on!" she gave him a wink and added, "After all, you WOULD know, wouldn't you?" She smiled at Draco over the top of her wine glass, and he smiled back.

Hermione looked at them, confused. Clearly they both knew something she didn't, and she was going to find out what the hell it was. "I have a question."

Draco and Amee stopped looking at each other and turned their attention to Hermione.

"Why did your grandfather tell you that we were Healers?"

"Because, dear girl, in the future, you both ARE Healers."

Hermione didn't bat an eye at this stunning information. "So, you're telling me that this is the future, and you and your grandfather knew we were coming? You know about the clock and the time traveling?"

"Yes."

"But how and why? This makes no sense to me at all!" She threw her fork down on the table in frustration. "Unless we meet you sometime in our real future and tell you that we would be visiting you..."

Draco wanted so desperately to tell her what was going on, but for some reason, he knew that he wasn't supposed to. She was smart; maybe she would figure it out all by herself! "Let's just finish our meal and..."

"Don't tell me what to do! And don't think for one second I haven't figured out that you know what's going on here!"

Draco frowned at her. "I told you before, I have no fucking clue what this is all about!"

Hermione stood and threw her napkin down on the table. "As if I would believe anything you said! You are a lying piece of shit bastard!" She picked up her wine and threw it in his face.

He stood up and grabbed her so fast that his chair fell over, and she screamed in fright. "I might be a liar!" He was so close to her face that she could see the droplets of wine on his eyelashes. "But you are a heartless bitch, who likes to fuck with people's emotions!"

Amee sipped her wine as if watching an interesting television program. This was all so surreal to her. After all, her grandfather had told her about this row when she was a tiny child.

Hermione clenched her teeth angrily. "Get you damn hands off of me now, Malfoy, or I will make you sorry you ever laid eyes me!"

He dug his fingers deeper into her arms. "I already am!"

She did the only thing she could. She kicked him in the shin as hard as she could. He released her and screamed in pain. She turned to run, but he caught her by her hair and pulled her back.

"Ow! Let go!" she said desperately. "You're hurting me!"

"Good!" Draco said. "You deserve it!" He pulled her so close that she was crushed up against him, her ass pressed into his groin, his hands still tangled in her hair. "You have no idea just how much you hurt me back in Crete, Granger," he said in her ear.

Hermione struggled through the pain in her scalp and managed to turn herself around to face him. "I hurt you?" she looked at him incredulously. "I'm not the one who was having sex with someone else!" She glared hatefully at him. "That was you!"

Draco twisted her hair harder, making her yelp. "I only did that because you were letting that horny freak get you off under the table!"

Hermione laughed despite the searing pain from her head. "That wasn't real!" She laughed harder.

"What!" he said, releasing her hair and stepping back. "It wasn't real?"

Hermione rubbed her head in agony. "It was all fake... the fingering under the table, the orgasm..."

For a moment, Draco was sure that his head was going to explode. "I can't believe this!" he shouted at her. "I fucked that stupid whore for nothing!" He picked up his plate from the table and threw it against the wall where it shattered and pelted them with mashed potatoes and peas. "You are such a devious bitch. You know that?"

Hermione ducked when the plate went flying. "I'm sorry! I didn't think it would go as far as it did!"

"Sorry? Sorry! You almost got me killed back there, Granger! You vengeful bint!"

"Well, as of right now, I wish that Minotaur would have killed your stupid ass, and then I wouldn't have to put up with you any more! I hate you!"

"Well, the feeling's mutual!"

Amethyst sat with wide, disbelieving eyes, listening to their row. It was beyond her comprehension that these two people, who obviously loved each other, would act like this. If she didn't know better, she would think these two people hated one another, that... Her thoughts were interrupted by a distressed Hermione fleeing from the room, crying.

Draco picked up his chair and sat down. He took a clean, unbroken plate and filled it with more food. "Maybe now I can eat in peace!"

Amethyst watched him disgustedly. "Aren't you going after her?"

"No. Why should I?" he asked, buttering a roll.

"Because that's what you're supposed to do," she said thoughtfully. "You go after her and..."

"And what?" he asked curiously. "Beg her to forgive me?" He laughed at the absurdity of it.

"No. You don't beg her for forgiveness... yet. You overhear her talking to my grandfather."

The last bite of Draco's roll was stuck in his throat, and he swallowed hard, trying to get it down. "What is it that I overhear?" he asked, chugging his wine.

"I don't know. All I know is that you go after her."

He looked at her, rolled his eyes and got up from the table. "Fine! I'll do what I'm supposed to do! Merlin knows I wouldn't want to fuck with the future!"

Hermione ran past the old man's door, and she heard him call to her. Stopping in her tracks, she hesitantly went into the room. "Yes?" she asked softly, sniffing and wiping her eyes so he wouldn't know she had been crying.

"Come and sit with me. Tell me what's wrong." He patted the edge of his bed with a gnarled hand.

Hermione crossed the hard wood floor and sat on the very edge of his down-turned comforter.

"You've been crying," he said, trying to sit up.

"No, I haven't," she quickly said.

He smirked at her, his bushy white eyebrow raised.

"Okay. I have been crying," she admitted and laughed lightly. "He is just so infuriating sometimes!"

"By 'he', you would mean Draco?"

"Yes." She turned slightly and looked at the man. "Sometimes I just want to wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze it until those grey eyes of his pop right out of his head and that forked tongue of his lolls out of his foul mouth."

He chuckled silently. "You always did have a way with words!"

Hermione sighed, "Will you please tell me who you are and how it is that we know each other?"

He stopped laughing abruptly and frowned. "I'm sorry, but I can't tell you. It is up to Draco to tell you, and rest assured my darling, He will tell you... when he has to." He patted her arm tenderly. "He loves you."

"Oh, yeah? Well, he certainly has a strange way of showing it! Calling me a heartless bitch, not to mention screwing another girl!"

"You have to understand that Draco has never had to deal with these feeling before. He is innocent when it comes to love. Do you know how hard it was for him to break down that wall he has built up his entire life and let you in?" He closed his faded and yellowed eyes and lay back on the pillow. "You need to help him, guide him in the ways of the heart, not tease him... promise him love and then snatch it away... That is more cruel and destructive to him than you can possibly imagine. He tries to act as though nothing matters to him, but on the inside, he is full of regret for his past, and fear of a loveless future torments his very soul."

"You speak of him like you know him very intimately."

The old man smiled. "I know him perhaps better than he knows himself right now."

Hermione looked around the room, noticing pictures moving on the walls. "Are these pictures of your family?" she asked, getting up to get a closer look at the portraits.

He opened his eyes and watched her cross the room. "Those are my children." He saw her pick up the gold-framed picture from the table next to the door.

Hermione saw three small girls waving from a tree house. They were wearing dress-up clothes and holding tea cups. The one girl in the middle looked oddly familiar to her. Maybe it was the hair, or perhaps the shape of the face. "They're very beautiful."

"Do you want to know their names?" he asked her.

Hermione nodded. She couldn't take her eyes away from the girls as they giggled and sipped their tea. She was feeling rather strange, sad or something. She wanted desperately to reach through the picture and pull the girls through and hold them, kiss their chubby pink cheeks. The feeling was so overwhelming that her heart was pounding, and she wanted to scream.

"Jade, Ruby and..."

"Emerald," Hermione finished, her voice trembling. She whirled around, clutching the frame to her chest. "How? How do I know these girls?" she squeaked, on the verge of borderline hysterical. "Tell me!"

The old man, tears welling up and spilling down his wrinkled face, said, "Do you love him?"

Hermione was startled for a second. "Love whom?"

"Draco."

Hermione stomped her foot in frustration like a child. "What? I could care less about him right know! I want to know about these children! How do I know them?"

"Do you love him?" the old man shouted. "Answer me!"

"Yes! For God's sake! I love him! I love him!" she said, falling to the floor. "Please! Tell me, who are these girls?"

"They are our daughters," Draco said from the doorway. "Yours and mine."