Lost Control- Dramione Fanfiction

27. Ancient Magic

Draco walked back to his family's holiday mansion in Russia extremely pleased. Trudging through the snow and warming up his hands with his breath he thought about the last few days and how successful he had been. He had come Russia visit an old family friend; someone who had assisted many members of his family in the past with rare magic they were not courageous enough to attempt.

Stepping through the grand door of his Russian home, he flicked his wand to ignite the fireplace and took off his jacket, thinking, forever thinking, about Hermione.

He missed her so terribly, never feeling complete without her by his side. He sat down in the luxurious armchair in front of the fire and thought of her, counting down the seconds until he had her back in his arms.

Although he hated being apart from her, he had no other choice. This friend in Russia, who had always refused to give out his name, was the only person Draco knew who could complete the task he needed. This man was extremely gifted in devotion spells. But not those silly little love potions or the hexes that created false infatuation. No. This man was able to perform ancient and sacred devotion magic; like the spells used to bind two Purebloods together in happy marriage, or the same one's used to create an Unbreakable Vow. Magic that the Malfoy's, and many other Pureblood families, were unable to ever achieve.

Draco pulled the same black box out of his pocket that he had shown to Harry. Opening it, he smiled, hoping with every fibre in his body Hermione would love it.

He had come to Russia to ask the Unnamed Man to charm the ring. He wanted it charmed with every promise he would make to Hermione, and, if she chose to accept the ring, ones that he would have to keep for the rest of his life. He hoped that this was the most effective way to show Hermione how committed he was to her and that, even if she decided one day that she wanted to end things, he would protect her and care for her until his very last breath. That was the very least he could do for her.

Putting the box back in his pocket he was interrupted by the familiar scratching of an owl at his window. Hoping desperately that, somehow, this poor owl had travelled all the way from London, he raced over to let it in, his fingers fumbling as he untied the letter from it's leg.

His heart soared at the sight of the wax seal of the Minister herself. Tearing it open excitedly, he walked back to his armchair as he soaked in every word.

Draco, she wrote

How is Russia? Cold? Work is busy, Harry is being weird, and Ron is being even weirder.

I can't wait until you come home! I have so many questions to ask and kisses to give.

Thank you for the roses you are sending me, they're perfect. Just like you.

Travel safe and come home soon; I miss you desperately.

All my love,

Your Hermione.

But the letter didn't settle him the way it should have. He knew exactly why Harry was acting 'weird'; Potter knew every detail of what Draco was up to. Cursing quietly at Potter's inability to act normally like he had asked, he reread the letter. But why was Ron acting weird? Draco had specifically asked Harry not to tell a soul and he was sure Harry would keep that promise. And who was sending Hermione flowers? It certainly wasn't him, although he was slightly annoyed at himself for not thinking of that first.

Summoning a piece of parchment and a quill, he sat back down to write his reply. By the time the owl reached London, Draco would be almost finished in Russia but he needed to act now, waiting until he was home for answers was not a thought he was comfortable with.

Finishing his letter with the sweetest send off, he tied it to the legs of the exhausted owl. Patting it gently and thanking it, he opened the window again to let it fly, pleading under his breath that the owl would get there quickly.

****

Another rose floated just outside Hermione's door as she walked into her office that morning. Every day without Draco dragged slowly on, but she was only a few days away from their reunion. Sitting down at her desk, she noticed a slightly damp piece of parchment balanced carefully on top of the already towering stack of paperwork on her desk.

Hoping that the dampness of the parchment had something to do with snow from a certain part of the world she grabbed the letter and opened, too excited to noticed the tower now tumbling down around her, scattering pieces of parchment across her floor.

My Hermione,

Russia is cold. I'll need a lifetime of hugs from you to warm me back up. I'm so proud of you Minister, even the people of Russia speak highly of you and the work you've done for the Wizarding world thus far.

Don't worry about Potter's behaviour; he's just a daft git. I wish I could explain Weasley's though, maybe take him to lunch, see what he tells you.

Although I'm elated you are being treated to flowers every day, they are not from me. You must have a secret admirer; I'll be sure to find out who they are and send them their death warrant! (Just kidding).

I miss you more and more every single second, my love. I will be home in two days, and it will all be worth it.

Forever yours,

Draco.

She stared at the letter a little while longer, now extremely uncomfortable at the growing bunch of roses collecting on her desk. With a flick of her wand, they vanished. All that was left was the nagging desire to find out who was sending them, now that she knew they weren't from Draco.

She smiled at the thought of Draco and began to write a memo. She was going to take his advice and ask Ron to go to lunch with her. He was her best friend after all, she wanted to make sure he was alright.