Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Harry Potter. All Harry Potter involved material belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Thanks to Larkspur for beta-ing!
Every year, after students and Professors have finished their schooling year at Hogwarts, it's time for the school halls to become vacant and the summer holidays to begin. This year in particular, the summer holidays would be a particularly mournful affair.
Harry thought the sky looked too dull and grey for summer, and the grass seemed less vibrant and green. It was a very rare occasion to see people, Wizards – even Muggles smiling. From Harry's point of view, the world seemed defeated and solemn; nobody knew where it would go from here.
The mere and momentary glimpse of happiness that arose in Harry's world was not for a few weeks into his summer holidays. He received a letter – a short letter, but a letter at that.
Sit tight; we're coming to get you tomorrow. Midday.
Harry saw no name on the letter, though only assumed and then finally concluded that it was the Weasleys. It was a relief to know that he could be with people that cared about him for the remainder of this dreary holiday.
Hermione was in a deep sleep, a sleep so heavy that when she began to wake, she prayed for more… until her senses got the better of her. Her eyes snapped open, and her body was overwhelmed with a heat of panic. Hermione lay on her side, rigid as a pole and completely breathless as she realized she'd never seen this wall before and certainly did not recognize this bedside table…although she did recognize her wand aloft. Hermione shot her hand out, snapped it up and then promptly sat upright. She gasped and quickly pointed her wand to the figure standing at the far wall.
An alluring silence prickled in the air.
"Tell me where I am Malfoy, or so help me god I will curse you to hell and back." Hermione's voice was strong, though it quivered slightly as she spoke.
"Good, you're alive. You can finally get out of my house."
Draco Malfoy was leaning casually against the far wall. He had a small smudge of dirt on his jaw, which was insignificant compared to the dried mud on his hands and clothing. Hermione noticed he supported a fresh cut vertically placed below his left eye, and for once in his life his robes looked more tattered than Ron Weasley's.
Hermione was well aware that she was among the company of a Death Eater and one of the many people responsible for the terrible death of Albus Dumbledore. She silently became angered as the grip around her wand became tighter.
"Where am I?" she uttered forcefully. Hermione scarcely peered around the room, silently marvelling at the high black marble ceiling and priceless arts and tapestries that were hung upon the walls, (most of which portrayed snakes.) "Am I at your house?" she wondered in a murmur. Malfoy merely raised his eyebrows in reply. Although she was more than seven yards from one of her most hated acquaintances and his rigid snare, she could clearly see that there was no wand in either of his hands. Hermione lowered her hand into her lap, yet kept a tight hold on her weapon. "Why am I here?"
Malfoy slumped into a large black leather chair, crossed his arms and narrowed his unreceptive eyes. "I'm not telling you why you're here. I was hoping you'd just get up and leave... As soon as you're gone I have to have my bed sheets burnt, so the sooner, the better."
Hermione frowned. "If you just tell me why I'm here I'll…I'll leave without thinking twice."
"Or I could just burn the sheets with you on them."
Hermione suddenly became angry and anxious, her nostrils flared and her mouth tightened as Professor McGonagall's frequently did. "Malfoy!" she yelled furiously as she went into a ramble. "If you woke up in my house on my bed, I'm sure you'd be threatening me for an answer. You can't just merely sit there and tell me to leave your house! I don't even know where your house is, I don't know how to get home! For all I know you could have cursed me whilst I was sleeping and now I can't walk. You could've bought me here to kill me, or for a sick and twisted prank – "
"I did not bring you here for a prank." Malfoy's words were spat lucidly from his mouth as he rose from his chair and took his wand out of his robes. Hermione followed suit and did just the same. "Why would I bring you into my home to play a prank on you? And if I did, I wouldn't prank you and then let you lay on my bed sheets."
"If you're so rattled about your bloody sheets why didn't you just heap me on the floor!" Hermione retorted.
"I did, but I figured it'd be easier to burn sheets than carpet."
Hermione threw her hands into the air in protest and let out a muffled growl. "You're so horrid! You make me so so – "
"I knew I shouldn't have bothered to help you," he snarled, edging closer with his wand. There was another silence starting to endure, which made both feel so very uncomfortable.
Hermione stared at his bleeding cut and Malfoy watched her dark eyes linger on his face. She looked at him nervously and asked, "Help me..? How did you help me?" She paused for a moment in slight dismay. "Why would a Death Eater possibly want to help me?"
As Malfoy's livid eyes levelled into a glare, a large crashing came from outside the entrance to his room. The sound of breaking glass uttered up the stairs and a booming ferocious voice echoed through out the Malfoy manor.
"Draco Malfoy!"
Malfoy's eyes widened in fright and his voice became quaky. "Quick, you have to go; he's going to kill me…" Malfoy ushered her towards his door. "No, you can't go out there he'll see you, he'll kill us both."
"What? Who will kill us? Why?" Malfoy was hurriedly pushing Hermione to the other side of the room, and was trying as hard as possible with a limp in his right leg. "Why are you trying to push me into your closet? Malfoy! Answer me, who's going to kill you?"
Hermione was pushed so forcefully she hit her head on the back of the closet and fell to her backside. As she rubbed the new bruised lump on her skull and tried to level her uneasy eyes, the doors were slammed shut. She was left in complete darkness. It was a few uncomfortable minutes before Hermione could raise herself from the ground. She was about to barge through the closet doors when she heard distant doors open with a flamboyant smash and Malfoy utter a disgraceful beg.
"Father, please."
"You – you." Lucius Malfoy struggled for words, "you are a disgrace of a son." Hermione prodded the closet door open slightly so she could see. "DISGRACE!" Lucius yelled.
Malfoy stumbled back slightly and fidgeted with his grip around his wand, "Father…" he said breathlessly.
"Father what? Are you going to make excuses?" Lucius' pronunciation of S's was particularly venomous.
"I couldn't do it…I just – "
"Youcouldn't do it?" Lucius' mouth wreathed with disgust. "I don't know what happened to your blood boy, but it certainly isn't Malfoy blood." It was clear that Lucius Malfoy was becoming increasingly angered as a protruding vein in his neck had begun to shine blue. "If you are not going to bother following in my footsteps then I have no use for you, you can leave my house."
"I was just about to," said Malfoy calmly. His father surveyed him up and down. "The Ministry has already raided our house looking for me, they'll do it again soon enough." Malfoy's voice had become cool and relaxed; it was angering his father even more. "How did you get out of Azkaban anyway?"
"The Dark Lord helped his faithful Death Eaters escape. Now thanks to you, he wants us both dead. I'd run as far as possible, boy. He gave you a second chance and you blew it just as the first. This task wasn't even strenuous; all you had to do was kill that filthy Mudblood!"
Hermione gasped in the dark cupboard. Lucius looked behind himself conspicuously.
Malfoy pressed on in conversation. "I couldn't do it!" he expressed truthfully. "She -"
"She what?" Lucius mocked his son's ridiculous excuses. "If you can't kill even a Muggle-born then you are worthless to the Dark Lord. You are not worthy of that branding on your arm and you're certainly not worthy of being my son."
It was hard to tell if Malfoy took these words harshly at all, for his face was steely and contorted in the usual manner. Then all of a sudden, a flicker of compassion graced his expression. "What about Mother, does she still think of me as herson?"
Lucius sneered. "I'm sure she doesn't think very much of you, Draco." Lucius took no notice in Malfoy's rising anger – white knuckles and shaking fists, he simply preceded conversation in his usual manner. "I want you to leave. Now."
Father and son stared maliciously at each other, then Malfoy voiced, "I have to get my -"
"Quick," hissed Lucius.
Malfoy turned on his heel unsteadily and moved towards a tall chest of drawers. Just as he came to a halt, he darted around with his wand raised and ejected, "Expellia-"
"CRUCIO!"
Hermione shuffled her feet uncertainly as Malfoy fell to the floor. He squirmed in pain erratically, trying to fight off the curse. 'Should I help?' thought Hermione hurriedly. 'He did try to kill me…but he saved me. But I despise him – I can't watch.' As Hermione argued with herself, she unconsciously stumbled out of the closet and shouted, "Petrificus Totalus!"
Lucius Malfoy's eyes were wide in shock as his body became rigid and fell to the ground. Hermione recited a couple of rope binding curses as well - just in case.
Malfoy struggled to stand from where he was lying in a heap on the floor. He looked even more tattered and weary than before. He stared down at Hermione once he was standing up right. "Petrificus Totalus?" he asked sardonically. "You're the smartest witch at Hogwarts and you used a binding curse? Why didn't you just kill him? Or turn him into a squirrel or something?"
"I'm not going to kill your father!"
"Well neither am I." Malfoy pointed his wand at his school trunk, which shot open ready for the stream of objects and belongings flying from each corner of the room. The trunk slammed shut. "I'm leaving."
"Good," agreed Hermione. "I need to leave; everyone will be so worried about me."
"Good. You do that." Malfoy was already making his way towards the door with his trunk floating weightlessly behind him.
"But, how am I supposed to get home?" asked Hermione urgently.
Malfoy turned his head brusquely, with a familiar look. Hermione recognized this repulsive snare from six years of torments or name-calling. "I don't –"
"Expelliarmus!"
Hermione and Malfoy turned to find Lucius standing freely with no ropes in sight, wand pointed dangerously, and the most malicious snarl to ever grace one's face.
Hermione's wand went flying, however Malfoy was too impulsive and had held onto his tightly. He and his wand both went flying out of the door and flopped heavily onto the landing. Lucius rounded on the cowering Muggle-born standing in the corner. "I can't believe it," he jeered. "Draco bought the Mudblood home. Did he feed and bathe you too?" he mocked.
Hermione looked searchingly around the room for the whereabouts of her wand. Just as she found it, Lucius Malfoy stumbled back as his robes caught fire. Malfoy was standing in the doorway, pointing his wand at his father, setting fires in all sorts of odd places. Hermione grabbed her wand as hastily as she could and ran through the doorway past Malfoy who was cackling noxiously. She shot down the long reign of black stairs aimlessly running until she was as far away as possible. Taking a right she found a large, high-ceiling room – darkly decorated and covered in evil memorabilia. Stumbling to the fireplace she searched every draw, urn, cup and pot for Floo powder. When she thought there was nothing left to search, she discovered a large black pot on the ground. Lifting the lid she found gallons and gallons of the fine dust.
Just as she magically lit the fire and launched the powder into the flames she heard an ear-splitting shout. "IMPERIO!" With one last look back, Hermione hopped into the fire. "The Burrow!"