Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story, as the characters and the world belong to J K Rowling. This story is for entertainment purposes only.
Summary:The aftermath of the war finds Draco a mere shadow of who he used to be. Lonely and depressed, nothing seems to get him back on his feet. One shot.
Pairing: Draco x Hermione
Warnings: drinking, some language
Firewhiskey, lamps and kisses
His room was dark but he he couldn't use candles anymore. The mere sight of fire would make him shake and gasp for air while reliving the chase in the Room of Requirement: the scorching heat licking at his face, his heart pumping fast, the sound of it deafened by the crackling of wildfire, his lungs desperately trying to catch a breath of fresh air but ending up choking with thick black smoke, himself panicking, thinking how he was too young to die.
Draco squeezed his eyes shut and clutched at his head with trembling hands, trying to steady his breath. He grabbed the crystal glass from the table by the window and poured himself some firewhiskey. It was the only thing that seemed to calm him these days. Ever since May 2nd he had locked himself in his room back at home, refusing to see anyone except his parents. Now it was September and the days had grown darker and colder.
Draco switched on the lamp, a Muggle illuminating device which was meant to replace the candles. Draco knew Granger had dropped it off one time she visited the Manor and Draco couldn't deny his mother's influence. What kind of a cruel bitch would ask of a teenager to come back to the place where she and her friends had been tortured and nearly killed? And what kind of a person would go back and help the ones that put them through so much pain?
Granger. The answer popped into his head without any effort. As Muggle-born as she was, Granger had a kind heart and she would always stand up for the weak and powerless. Draco poured himself another drink. Is that what he was now? Weak? Powerless? The firewhiskey burned the inside of his mouth and down his throat, but it was a pleasant feeling. It made him feel alive. His thoughts strayed back to Granger and her stupid bushy hair, her rosy cheeks and her beautiful eyes. There used to be a time when Draco dreamed about her and would wake up hard as a rock... almost painfully hard. He would imagine kissing her, touching her, making her his own. But those days were long gone and things were very different now.
Draco let out a small laugh and drained the last firewhiskey from his glass. A small knock on the door made him turn away from the window. His mother stood in the doorway.
"Do you want anything to eat?" Her eyes were red and puffy, probably from all the crying. She cried tears of joy for a few days straight right after the war, happy that their family had been safely reunited. Things have calmed down now, but Narcissa's crying hadn't stopped. Not even close. Now it occurred to Draco that maybe he was the reason his mother was such a wreck. Truth was Draco never recovered.
Draco just shook his head slightly, his eyesight blurred by the firewhiskey and the sleepless nights.
"I'm not hungry, thank you". Narcissa spent an extra minute in the doorway, hoping beyond hope that her son would give a different answer. He spent his days up in his room, he barely ate and was constantly drinking. It broke her heart to watch her eighteen-year-old, a boy who had seen to much death but a boy nonetheless, turning into a hollow shell. She even accepted that thing the Granger girl brought... anything that would make her son whole again. Narcissa sniffled, gave Draco one more longing look and left the room.
Draco stared at the closed door for a few moments then poured himself another glass of firewhiskey.
He never noticed he fell asleep up until a knock on the door startled him. Draco got up from the chair he had fallen asleep in and the empty glass rolled from his lap onto the carpeted floor.
"Draco?" His mother's voice came muffled from behind the wooden door "You have a visitor".
Draco groaned and paced through the room. Why wouldn't people just bugger off and let him be? None of his friends had been truly supportive: Pansy, Blaise, not even one! They scattered back to their families like nothing ever happened while he was left all alone to deal with his phobia and his nightmares.
The door creaked open and just as Draco was about to shout angrily at whoever was behind the door to go to bloody hell, a familiar figure stood in the doorway. Draco choked on his words. Now he realized how thirsty he was, his tongue feeling heavy and dry, sticking to the inside of his mouth.
"It's okay. Thank you" Hermione Granger told his mother and Draco could hear Narcissa's footsteps echoing through the hallway.
They stood facing each other for a minute, none of them saying anything. Draco finally found his voice.
"What are you doing here?" he asked and his voice sounded more broken than he imagined.
"Your... you mother sent and owl... again. She insisted I had to see you. She... pleaded actually". Draco let out a small laugh.
"She?! Pleaded?!" Draco laughed again, this time louder. "Get your facts straight, Granger. My mother does not plead".
The line had been too harsh, Draco knew, but he didn't know how to react. Hermione was still standing in the doorway and Draco noticed she was gripping her wand tight.
"You can put that away. I'm not going to hurt you" he said gesturing to Hermione's wand. "Unless you want to hurt me in which case I assure you I'm not going to fight back. Give me your best shot". Draco opened his arms as an invitation. Hermione stuck her wand in the inside on her jacket.
"Don't just stand there, come in" Draco gestured to the armchair next to him. Hermione quietly sat in the armchair, her hands resting on her knees.
"What are you drinking?" She looked at the empty glass and then back at Draco.
"Firewhiskey. Want some?" Hermione nodded. She watched Draco heavily getting up from the other armchair and going to the table by the window. He picked up the spare glass and poured some firewhiskey. Hermione watched him carefully, never taking her eyes away from the black tattoo on Draco's inner forearm. Draco handed her the drink, caught her looking and smirked.
"That's one hell of a reminder" he said bitterly, pouring a drink for himself. Hermione didn't reply. She just wrapped her left arm around herself and took a sip out of her drink.
"How's everybody?" Draco asked after a few silent moments.
"They're coping. Everybody needs to heal, each at his own rate, I guess". She took another sip, a bigger one this time, almost draining her glass. Her cheeks were pink and Draco discovered he enjoyed this view.
"And you?" He finally said.
Hermione did drain her glass her glass, then shook it towards Draco. He got the message and got up to get the bottle.
"I haven't seen my family yet." Hermione searched Draco's face for any sign to stop the conversation but he looked interested in what she had to say. "I... I obliviated my parents before leaving last summer. Couldn't bring myself to go back". Draco's head turned towards her, his eyes fixed upon her.
"Where do you...?"
"At Luna's. She and her father were kind enough to take me in for a while. You know, until I... figure things out." She held out her glass and Draco hurried to refill it. As he poured the drink, Draco could see three small circular scars on her inner forearm showing from under her sleeve.
"What's that?" He gestured towards the scar. Hermione pulled her sleeve down and folded her arm back around her. Draco sat back in his chair.
"Can't be any worse than this" he said extending his right arm, showing Hermione the black tattoo "But then again, few things are". He smiled a sad smile in the corner of his lips.
Hermione avoided Draco's eyes and bit her lip. She took a deep breath, rolled up her sleeve and stretched out her left arm to Draco. He leant closer to get a better look. The three little scars he had seen earlier made much more sense now that they were part of a word: Mudblood. Draco felt his breath stop in his throat. He looked over at Hermione, but she was staring absentmindedly at the floor.
Draco traced his index finger over the scar feeling the bumps where the flesh had healed in a pattern.
"I'm sorry" he whispered. "Granger, I'm so sorry". The next thing he knew, he was kneeling before Hermione, his head against her knees, gripping tightly her scarred hand, tears stinging the inside of his eyes. He was surprised to feel Hermione's fingers stroking his hair. He looked up at Hermione, tears welled up in her eyes until one of them rolled down her cheek. Draco cupped her cheek and wiped the tear with his thumb. Hermione closed her eyes, letting herself being caressed.
A sudden urge shot through Draco the way nothing had in a long while and he felt his heart quicken its pace in anticipation. He closed the gap between them and locked the girl's lips in a gentle kiss. He lingered for a few moments and then, just as he was about to pull away and apologize, he felt Hermione kissing him back, both her hands locked in his hair. The glass fell to the floor, staining the emerald green carpet, but Draco did not care. He pulled Hermione closer and she wrapped her legs around him, deepening the kiss. He picked her up and carried her to the bed, never breaking away from her lips. He set her on the bed and leaned over her on his elbows.
"Please don't go, Granger." He whispered.
"I won't." She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into another kiss.