The air was thick in her lungs. The more she tried, the harder it was to breathe at all. Her muscles were burning under her skin, heart pounding in her ears. The room around her was cold, hard, wet. There was no light, save for the sun that broke in through the bars at the top of the cell. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the dim light of her room, so when the door was thrust open rapidly the candlelight streaming in nearly blinded her. Someone was in the room with her now. They were quiet, but close. She tried to open her eyes, tried to see, but the light was too bright. All she saw was the shape of someone standing over her, his figure surrounded by light.
She cringed away, shied into the corner. She knew they were here to kill her, finally after all this time. She knew they were going to touch her and poke at her, and peel her flesh with instruments they called toys. She knew they were going to maim her mind and mold her body to their will. And worst of all was the fact that all of that knowledge, all of that information which should have made her weak had made her bold. She fought; she twisted and turned in their grip when they came for her. She always was a fighter.
But something was different this time. There was something odd in the air. And it smelled good. It smelled of gardenias and sandalwood. It was familiar. She opened her eyes, just a crack, just enough to see the floor. Slowly, she let her eyes move up. She saw black dragonskin boots, pinstriped black slacks covering long, muscled legs. She rubbed her eyes as he began to move towards her. She flinched when he neared her. She heard him say something, trying to comfort her. It didn't work. She chanced a glance further upwards, saw him hike up his slacks to crouch before her. As he kneeled, her eyes saw the matching black pinstriped jacket over a crisp white shirt tucked into a black leather belt. She could see his muscles rippling behind the fabric.
Her eyes couldn't meet his. She couldn't bear to look at his face, couldn't bear to put a face on her tormentor. He was saying something now, his voice soft and warm…familiar. His arm was moving closer, reaching towards her. She flinched, shrank, recoiled back into the wall as far as she could. His hand came closer, and closer. He was so close, his smell so overwhelming. And then his fingers grazed her cheek, pulled the hair from her face. Such a gentle gesture, a caress in the darkness. Her body froze at his touch, unwilling to accept this kindness. His hand moved down her neck, over her shoulder, steady, firm. His voice drifted over her again. This time she tried to listen to the words.
"…come back to me. I'm not going to hurt you." His other hand came to cup her cheek, turning her face up to look her in the eye. "Hermione please. Please come back to me…"
Hermione's mind faded away at the sight of his face. His soft pink lips parted as his breathed, high cheekbones defined aristocratic features outlined with a strong and defined jaw. His silver blue eyes pierced her soul, the tears brimming at the edge barely contained as he spoke, blonde fringe dangling over his forehead. She knew this man. She could see him in her memory now. She could see him laughing, smiling. She could see him sneering down his nose at her, could see him snicker at his friends as she ran from the scene. She knew this man…and she loathed his very existence. But there was something else underneath. He was different than she remembered him. Something had changed between them, she knew it. She could feel it. And at that moment, in the darkness of her prison, she knew he was the only person she could trust.
"Malfoy…" Her voice was small, almost a whisper, but the instant it left her throat he froze. It was only seconds, but it felt like a lifetime his eyes held hers. And when they broke it was only as he blinked, tears streaming down his cheeks as he did so.
"Thank Merlin. I though you were lost." He stood then, holding his hand out for her. She stared at it, half expecting a snake to slither out of his sleeve. "Come on. We're getting out of here." Her eyes searched his for a hidden purpose, but he was open as a book. And as she placed her hand in his he smiled a smile she knew, remembered, and relished in its welcoming warmth. Her legs shook beneath her as she stood, and as she walked he brought her in under his arm, sheltering her from the hell around them. "Stay close. And don't say a word."
They stepped out into the hall, moving towards the room at the end. It was some kind of parlor. Several people lined the room, each an every one of them her captors, her torturers, her jailors. Hermione averted her eyes from theirs, looking only at the floor, clutching Malfoy's jacket at his side. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Someone was yelling at them…at Malfoy. They paused in their movement. Hermione's heart began to pound against her ribcage.
"I'm doing what you should have done." He paused and glared at them all. "What you all should have done. I hope you're proud of what you've done here. Because that pride is all you're going to have left." He turned her away from their burning eyes, turned her towards a foyer looking room, moved her through the door beyond and into the dim light of dusk. They walked, unobstructed, across the grounds of the Zabini manor. Hermione had really only been here once in her memory, but she remembered. When they finally reached the gate, a guardsman opened it with a flick of his wand. As soon as they were beyond the threshold Hermione felt the ripping, tearing of apparation. Bile rose in her throat as she fell to the ground, legs trembling beneath her. Strong hands gripped her shoulders, steadying her and helping her stand as the vile fluid burned her mouth. "Breathe. Just breathe." His hands rubbed her shoulders, his hands hot on her skin.
"Malfoy?"
"Yes?"
"Stop touching me." His hands froze, slowly slipped away. Hermione sucked in greedy breaths, giant gasps of air that filled her lungs. She held her sides, her rapid breaths slowly coming to a pause. When she finally opened her eyes, her surroundings were very, very familiar. "Malfoy?"
"Yes?" His voice was somewhere behind her.
"What are we doing here?" Before them stood Malfoy Manor. It stood terrifying before her. And all Hermione could think of were Bellatrix Lestrange and the horrible events of that night so long ago…how long Hermione couldn't quite remember. The towers were tall and terrible before them, their spires stretching far up into the night sky. "Malfoy…what are we doing here?" Her voice was trembling in her throat, the words barely escaping as she spoke. She began to back away from the gate, her feet stumbling beneath her, her single thought only on how fast she could get away from this horrid place.
Then hands were grasping hers, pulling her forwards, pulling her toward her own personal hell. "Hermione, relax. It's okay. You're safe here."
"No, no, no, no, no. No! I'm not going in there! You can't make me go in there!" She yanked on her arms, pulled as hard as she could. Anything she could do to get away from his iron grip. But it was no use. All the years spent in that cold dungeon below Zabini Manor had made her weak. He easily propelled her forward. Soon, his arm was around her, holding her against his body, binding them together.
"No one here is going to harm you. I promise." His voice was calm and comforting. She slowed, almost to a stop. "Look at me." His hand turned her eyes upward to meet his. "I promise you, no one is going to hurt you anymore, Hermione. I swear it."
There was something in his eyes, something in the way he spoke that calmed her nerves and somehow, some way, she knew he was right. She was safe. She nodded her head, not daring to make a sound should it break the spell he'd put her under. She didn't trust herself to make it otherwise.
They reached the front door and Hermione watched it open silently, as if the house itself recognized it's owner. They walked into a great hall with a winding staircase, open double doors to the parlor, and doors on either side of the room no doubt leading to other rooms in the house she had never seen before. Malfoy led her carefully and slowly up the stairs, past countless doors and hallways, and finally to a pair of double doors. He opened them and guided her into a room lavished in silver and green. She smiled softly at the thought that still, after all these years, Draco Malfoy was and always would be, the Slytherin Prince. "I never thought I'd see your room…not in my entire life…"
"This isn't the first time you've been in this room, though I guess I'm not surprised you don't remember." His voice was somber, as if recalling a memory. He smiled, almost to himself, before shaking his head and turning towards the bathroom. "There are fresh clothes in the closet, you'll find they all will fit you. I'll give you some time to wash up and get dressed. There is much for us to talk about." He turned to leave. "I'll be downstairs in my study. If you get lost, just ask the portraits, they'll point you in the right direction." He had a foot out the door when Hermione spoke.
"Why are you helping me?" He froze. "I mean, it's not that I'm not grateful…I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop." His eyes met hers.
"I'll explain everything to you when you come downstairs. Like I said, there's much to talk about." He smiled softly before taking his leave, the door closing lightly behind him.
Hermione turned to the bathroom and stepped inside. It was beautiful. Marble floors, oversized bathtub, stained-glass window in the ceiling. There were lotions and soaps by the sink and on the shelf in the shower and bathtub. She found that the shampoos and conditioners were all scents that she liked, and stranger still were the potion bottles in the cabinet. Most were potions she kept, as least, what she remembered she'd kept before everything happened. They were hair products, and not the kind that Malfoy would use. They were the kind to help prevent frizziness, to help soften her curls, and generally just maintain the birds nest she carried around on her head. Deciding not to think about it anymore, Hermione slowly undressed, peeling the horrid shirt and pants she'd been wearing from her body and dropping them in a heap on the floor. The hot water of the shower felt glorious on her flesh, warming her to the core and washing away all evidence of the past years. The water turned brown at her feet, slowly draining away, taking the filth with it. When she finally stepped from the shower the only remainder of what had happened were the scars. She closed her eyes as she wrapped herself in a towel and ventured back into the bedroom.
Opening the closet door revealed an entire room of clothing and shoes. One half was full of suits and designer men's shoes, along with a dresser of what she assumed were also men's clothing. The other half was full of dresses and sandals, as well as a dresser that she discovered was full of shirts and jeans, all in her size. Well, at least it was her size years ago. She was smaller now, and the only thing that actually fit her were a pair of leggings and a t-shirt. At least she was comfortable. Not bothering to put on shoes, Hermione left the bedroom and wandered the hall back towards the entrance hall. All the portraits stared at her, as if they were seeing a ghost. Some smiled at her, bid her good-evening, said hello. Others were sound asleep. One even addressed her by name and enquired after her health. Malfoy, you definitely have some explaining to do.
While Hermione was cleaning up, Draco paced in his study. His first tast was to floo Harry, but he didn't think he would even answer the message. He called his owl and wrote a message to Harry, followed by a message to Ron and his family. Fifteen years was a long time, and he didn't think they needed to wait a moment longer. He sent his owl out with the strictest instructions, and then sat behind his desk and waited. He stared at the photo on his desk, touching the frame delicately, savoring the happiness he saw there in the faces smiling up at him.
There was a knock at the door, pulling him from his trance. Hermione stood shyly in the doorway, her head barely poking around the frame. "Hermione, please come in." He stood and moved around his desk, guiding her into the room. "Sit, please." She sat in the armchair before his desk and he joined her in the one beside it. "I have so much to tell you…and so much I want to know." He watched her shift uneasily in her seat. "I'm not going to pressure you. I'll just speak and you can ask me anything whenever you want. Just, tell me this…how long were you there? In that place?" He searched her eyes for something, but they were too well guarded.
"I don't know…" Her fingers fidgeted in her lap. "The days became nights, nights became days…I…I remember it being shorter there than it was in other places…"
"There were other places?" She glared at him. "I'm sorry. Continue."
"I'd rather not. I don't remember how many different places they kept me, and for all I know, it could have been the same place each time, just a different room." She looked down at her hands. "I didn't get out much." She choked out a nervous laugh. It died just as quickly as it came though.
"Fair enough." They were silent for a few moments. Finally, Draco spoke. "Hermione, it's been quite a long time since you and I last saw each other. A lot has happened since you disappeared, and much has changed. There has been so much loss, so much pain in the past. Can you tell me what you do remember, before you were taken?" Draco leaned forward in his seat, trying to gage her thoughts. It seemed as though she was trying to remember, but what he could not tell.
"I remember feelings. Of course I remember Hogwarts, and who I am, Harry, Ron, Ginny…you…but things after are…hazy. I think there was a battle…there was pain…" She closed her eyes, hands gripping each other in her lap. "I remember being happy. There are flashes…again, feelings mostly." Her eyes opened, meeting his slowly, a small, confused smile playing at her lips. "Some of my memories include you…but I don't know what context to put them in. It's very strange to…that is to say I don't know how to…I mean…the feelings I have towards you are exceedingly confusing. These memories…I don't know how to…I can't…I…" Hermione clutched her face in her hands, a tortured sob ripping through her lungs and breaking out of her throat. Draco knelt before her, taking her arms in his hands, holding her steady.
"It's alright. You don't have to think about it. There is a lot for you to take in…and the last thing I want is to cause you pain." She nodded her head into her hands, her body calming as he rubbed her arms. "I do have some good news for you though." She met his eyes cautiously. "I've contacted Harry and Ron. I sent them an owl as soon as we arrived."
"Harry…and Ron…" Her hands left her face, coming to rest gently on her knees. "You owled Harry and Ron…"
"Yes. You've no idea how happy they'll be to see you're alright." Draco grinned widely at the thought of finally having their dysfunctional family back under one roof.
"I'm not alright…" Draco's smile fell.
"What?" He blinked. "Of course you're alright. You're alive! You're here! You're safe!" He shook her gently, trying to make her see.
"No Draco!" She broke free, standing and moving away from him. "Of course I'm not alright!" Her body turned rigid as he stood to face her. "I don't know what you think has been going on, but I am most definitely not alright! How long have I been missing?" He didn't answer her. "How long Draco?" He couldn't meet her eyes, couldn't bear the truth screaming in his brain. "How long have I been missing Draco!?" He looked at her again, opened his mouth to speak, closed it speechless. "How long!"
"Fifteen years alright!" His voice rose, moving towards her. "You've been missing for fifteen years Hermione! And I…I had no idea what happened to…" He sank to his knees, holding his head in his hands. "I didn't know what to do when…I…" Inhaling harshly, Draco rubbed his eyes, trying not to lose control.
Hermione stood before him, speechless. Fifteen years. She'd been missing for fifteen years? "It can't have been that long…" Her voice was dazed, muted, as if she didn't know she was speaking. Her eyes sought Draco's. "Fifteen years?"
He looked up into her eyes, trying to hide the past. He stood gingerly, unsure on his feet. "You disappeared the night Ginny gave birth to her and Harry's son. We were all there. Do you remember that night?" She barely nodded. "Well we were all celebrating, at Grimmauld Place, and Ginny was laying in bed, all happy and warm with that baby boy. We were all so happy then…" He shook his head at the memory.
"I remember that night. Harry was congratulating you…us…for something. Ron was mad at you for something…" She moved closer, eye never leaving his. "You had your arm around me…we're smiling…" Her voice was far off, lost in her thoughts. "We're happy. Almost as if…" Her body snapped.
"As if what, Hermione?" Draco's voice was barely a whisper.
"As if we were…as if you and I were…as if I would ever…" She backed away, afraid to be so near…so close. "Malfoy if you're telling me that you and I were…were we? Were we together?"
Draco sank against his desk. "Yes." He closed his eyes. "But we were more than that. You and I…we were…historic." He smiled at Hermione, his voice growing stronger. "Together we could do anything. We ended the war together, Hermione. Our bond, our…love…it crossed through England. We would do anything for each other. We did everything for each other." He crossed the room to her, grasping her arms and holding her. "I never stopped searching for you. I never gave up."
He woke to an incessant pecking and tapping at his bedroom window. His wife rolled and mumbled something about it being his turn. He laughed inwardly. Leave it to his wife to think tapping on the window was their second child whaling in their sleep. He slowly got out of bed and went to the window. A great black owl waited patiently, cooing softly as Harry pulled the thick parchment from his beak. He let his hand rest on the great bird's back as he read the note. It was scrawled quickly, but the elegant script was unmistakable. Draco Malfoy had sent him a letter. Either something fantastic or something terrible has happened. He tore the letter open, unable to really contain his curiosity. It read one simple sentence, 'I found her.' It wasn't signed, it wasn't even addressed. Harry dropped the parchment, dashing from the room, door slamming behind him as he ran.
Hermione's mind was blank. She was frozen to the floor, her arms burning in Malfoy's grip. She was so confused, so lost and unaware of her surroundings. All she wanted was to run from the room, tear out of this house of horror and back into her old life. Back into the life she remembered, into the memories she cherished. But that wasn't possible. The rational part of her brain knew that. Unfortunately her heart couldn't see reason. And finally, she spoke. "I don't believe you…and I don't know how to right now…" His hands dropped like stones, and suddenly she was cold. "It's not that it's not possible in my head, but it's too much Malfoy. It's all just too much…and I don't know how to handle it." She tried to look at her hands, but she couldn't help but glance into his eyes. "I want to understand, and I want to remember, more than anything, but I just…right now…I need time…and that is something you're going to have to give me." His face softened, his eyes crinkling in a way she knew meant he was going to be alright…though how she knew she couldn't quite place.
"I'll give you as much time as you need." He smiled and pulled her into a hug. "But I hope you can consider me a friend until that time comes." She wrapped her arms gently around his waist, and for some reason, it felt right…and it all fit perfectly.
"Thank you." Suddenly there were tears in her eyes. "Thank you so much Draco." She smiled into his shoulder, happy to be free. Free at last.
"Malfoy!" She knew that voice. "Malfoy where are you?" He pulled away from her and spoke.
"We're in here!" His eyes never left hers. "I hope it's alright that I owled a couple people…at least, the important ones, I think." He smiled once before footsteps wiped it from his features, replaced with the stoic mask Hermione remembered from Hogwarts.
"Malfoy, where is sh—" The words died in Harry's throat as he stepped into the room. He looked as if he was seeing a ghost. Hermione smiled, at least she tried to, but it faded quickly. "Hermione…"
"Hello Harry."