Draco was annoyed to realise that he felt vaguely embarrassed about the state of his living quarters. It wasn't that he was a messy pig – in fact, he kept his rooms spotless. But there was no getting away from the fact that his room was more than a little dingy. It didn't help that it was now dusk and there was no sunshine to help lift the gloomy atmosphere.
He lit a couple of candles. It was a luxury to do so. He usually had to go to bed when the sun did, as a source of light was one thing his supply packs did not have. The ones in charge appeared to only worry about keeping him alive and not at all about his mental health. He'd managed to scavenge a few candles from here and there – mainly around Diagon Alley and other magical buildings, as Muggles didn't appear to use them, the households he'd been in only tended to have a half empty box of small candles under the sink. Either that, or those stupid tealight candles that gave no light. Although, he'd hit the jackpot around Covent Garden a few years ago, mainly in shops that seemed to sell tarot cards and other tacky, so-called 'magical' rubbish.
He turned from his task and saw Granger looking around the room with interest, treating this as if it was giant research project. His embarrassment was replaced with annoyance as he realised that it was precisely that. She'd come here to assess how to repopulate the former capital city and he was providing bonus material for her.
"Sit down," he said gracelessly.
She quickly looked around and spotted the rickety chair he would pull up to the large windows when the sun was shining so he could bask in the warmth. She sat gingerly down, almost as if she was scared of breaking it. He didn't blame her – it was a pretty pathetic specimen of chair.
Draco moved across to his cupboard and pulled it open, bringing out two glasses, which he proceeded to fill with water from the tap.
"Sorry I don't have anything other than water to offer you. My package didn't contain as much as it usually does."
Granger frowned. "Your packages run out before the new one comes?"
"Most of the time. I certainly never have enough tea."
She got up and marched over to the cupboard, pulling it open. "Draco, you only have packets of cuppa soup and some noodles. How long is that meant to last you?"
He shrugged and replied, "10 days give or take."
He turned away. It wasn't his fault that whoever was in charge of his package this fortnight had decided to be less than generous. He didn't want to see the pity he was sure lurked in her eyes.
"I can make some for you. I've been mixing the noodles with the soup and you're probably hungry," he offered, ignoring the fact that his own stomach was growling.
"I have supplies at the flat, shall we go and get them?" she asked, getting up and turning towards the door.
Quick as a flash, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. "No!"
Granger looked up at him, confusion written all over her face. She then tugged at her arm and he released it quickly. His palm tingled from the warmth of another human and he realised just how much he'd missed simple contact with another person. His fingers rubbed together, almost as if they were caressing the soft skin they had just encircled.
"Why not? It's just down the road."
"I don't go out after dark," he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument.
As usual, Granger ignored listening to something she didn't want to hear. "Don't be silly. What's the worst that could happen?"
He closed his eyes as the memories washed over him. He'd never been as scared in all his life as he had been the first few months they'd been left in the deserted city. Not even during those two terrible years that had preceded that time.
"What is it?" Granger asked.
His eyes flew open and he saw that she'd come closer to him and was looking up at him, questions written large in her big brown eyes.
"Nothing."
"Draco, it's clearly not nothing."
And all over again, he could feel the old irritation he used to get with her rising once more. It felt as if he'd travelled by time turner and was back at Hogwarts, listening to her incessant questions. He'd hated it then and he hated it now.
"Do I look like I want to fucking talk about it?" he asked, snarling.
He saw the shutters close down on her face and she stepped back, her professional persona once more intact.
"Well, I'm going then. I'm hungry and I refuse to eat your food when I have a much better pack somewhere else."
And with that, she waltzed out of the room and he heard her clattering rapidly down the stairs.
It took all of five seconds for his anger to abate and anxiety for her safety to come crashing down.
"Granger!" he called.
His only response was her footsteps getting further and further away.
"Granger! Stop playing games! Come back – now!"
There was only silence.
He ran his hands through his hair and swore aloud to the now empty room. Even though he technically knew it was safe, there was still the fear lurking in the back of his mind that someone was still out there. After all, the only time he'd let down his guard he'd nearly been killed.
"It's okay, Draco, that was years ago," he said to himself and repeated it several times, as if this would somehow make everything better.
But it couldn't stem his nervousness. Neither could the thought that Granger was one of the most gifted witches out there, and was in better condition than anyone who potentially survived the anarchy. She was also quick with her wand. He was still worried, though. Who knew what world she'd lived in for the past seven years? He doubted it had been as dark and desperate as his.
Draco paced until she returned.
The jaunty whistle jarred him as she merrily made her way up the stairs. He could practically see the happy little smile she'd be wearing on her lips. He'd seen it enough at Hogwarts, and, as then, the thought of it made him see red.
He flung the door open as she neared and he stood confrontationally on the threshold of his room. The whistle died as she took in his angry stance.
"I brought some decent food," she said, waving the bag to and fro, as if that would make up for his stress and worry.
"What the hell were you thinking?!" he yelled.
"That I was hungry and we need to eat."
"You don't know what's out there. You have no idea what you could potentially have met."
She put a hand out, placed it on his chest and pushed him backwards, until she, too, was also in the room.
"Relax, Draco. Do you really think they'd send me down here with no idea of what the situation on the ground was like?"
"Yes!" he hissed. "That's exactly what I think! After all, they haven't shown much care or consideration before."
Silence fell between them. All he could hear was his panting breaths as he tried to regain control over his emotions. Granger tilted her head and observed him, making him feel even more awkward and uncomfortable.
"What happened?"
This time he couldn't summon the energy to keep her out. Maybe if he could share his experiences with someone, they'd stop haunting him every step of the way. He moved away from her and sat on the edge of his bed, placing his head in his hands and stared at the floor. He could feel that her eyes hadn't left him.
"What do you think happens, Granger, if you place that many deranged Death Eaters in close proximity with no law or order? It was a bloodbath."
"How… How did you manage to survive?"
He could hear the hesitation in her question. She wanted to know. Of course she did - she was Hermione fucking Granger – but at the same time he could tell she didn't want to cause him unnecessary pain.
"Pure luck and an ability to melt into the shadows."
"Your parents?" she whispered.
"My father was one of the first to go. He tried to protect my mother and me, but although he could be a bastard, he was never as ruthless as many of the others. My mother managed to hold on for a little longer; enough to help me find places to hide, as we looked to stay out of the way. But one day she went out to collect our supply package. We hoped it would be safe at that time. Most of the other Death Eaters weren't usually awake just after dawn. I begged her to let me go but she insisted that it was her turn on the stupid, bloody rota she made us have. She didn't return."
He didn't bother to elaborate further. She didn't need to know about the hours of anxiety where he'd worried about his mother's whereabouts. Or how he'd oscillated between plans until he'd finally Disillusioned himself and gone to look for her. He almost wished he hadn't when he saw her crumpled up body just left in the middle of Diagon Alley as so many others had been. She was half-lying on their supply pack and he'd felt cold-hearted as he'd dragged it out from under her. But he couldn't survive without it and he couldn't stay next to her body mourning, either. He'd had to settle for closing her eyes and giving her a brief kiss on her cold forehead.
For once, Granger seemed to realise that words would do nothing in this situation and he appreciated the fact that she said nothing, didn't look at him, but concentrated on unpacking her supply bag.
His eyes followed her more out of something to do other than to sit there and relive painful memories.
The weeks following his mother's death were the hardest. He'd made his way out into Muggle London. He had no desire to have to walk past his mother's body to get out to do his job – not that anyone else was bothering but it gave him something to do. It also had the added benefit that no one thought of tracking him down out there – they were too busy massacring each other. By the time he'd run out of his double pack and needed to collect another one, there hadn't been anyone left to avoid.
Or so he'd thought.
The plate of fragrant beef stew with dumplings that Granger slid under his nose revived him. His mouth watered at the smells and his stomach growled embarrassingly. He stared open-mouthed at the treat.
"How did you manage that in such a short space of time?" he asked.
She laughed and the merry sound banished the last of his depressing memories. "Silly!" she admonished. "I used a spell to keep the food fresh and warm on several cooked meals to bring here. I made this from Molly Weasley's own recipe."
He didn't get the reference but enjoyed the flavoursome and hearty meal. He couldn't even stop eating when Granger finished her much smaller plate and sat there watching him.
"What?" he asked, as he scraped the last morsel up.
"You're too thin," she said. "Not surprisingly, really, considering the little you've been living off."
He shrugged, embarrassed once more by her observations. "So, you want to repopulate the city," he stated, more out of a desire to say something than actually wanting to know at that particular moment in time.
"Yes," she replied. "The Ministry always planned for the cities to be used once more. And it needed to happen sooner rather than later. Gibraltar is rather too small for the community to relocate to permanently."
"What about the Muggles?" Draco asked.
"They're keen to come back, of course. The Muggle Prime Minister has been nagging us for years now about when the cities would be ready."
"Where have they been?" he asked, not having a clue about the state outside his little bubble of central London.
"The remaining Muggle Population has been living in mainly rural areas; the Highlands, Brecon Beacons, Cornwall, the Peak District. But living in such confined areas that are unsuited for large population influxes for nearly a decade has proved difficult for them and there has been a loss of law and order, resulting in more deaths.
It was strange to think about things going back to normal. Well, as normal as a post-Voldemort period could get. The Dark Lord's last action had been to make plans to lay waste to the country should he not survive the Battle of Hogwarts. Of course, he hadn't imagined that would happen – that he would die.
It had been a task given to Aunt Bella and the Lestrange brothers out of a need to keep them busy. The sadistic trio had excelled their brief, setting up cells of Death Eaters that would Apparate out of Hogwarts if all was lost and cause havoc throughout the UK. Millions, mainly Muggles, had died in the carnage and most of the major cities had been destroyed.
"And they just accepted this with no explanation of why?"
"Of course not. The Muggle government said there had been a mass terrorist attack with dirty bombs used."
"Dirty bombs?"
"Bombs that contained chemical agents. It's been the excuse used as to why there was such widespread death and destruction and why the clean-up operation is taking so long."
"And who did they say did this?" Draco asked, clueless about Muggle politics.
"The Real IRA in response to the Good Friday agreement," Granger said and then gave a brief explanation of something she called 'The Troubles'. Draco soon lost interest and thought about the real culprits.
To make up for masterminding such an atrocity, the Death Eaters had been sentenced to remain behind to clean up – their wands had been tampered with so that they could only do clean-up spells. The Dark Lord's inner circle had been given London to rebuild. Unfortunately, the Ministry hadn't factored in how creative the more unhinged Death Eaters were; the centre had been all but annihilated and it was deemed a fitting punishment for them to have to clean it up. Sadly for Draco and his parents, that had included them, and the Malfoys were never going to be a match for the Lestrange brothers, Dolohov, Rawle and their ilk.
"You mentioned that other cities have been repopulated already."
"Yes. Birmingham, Manchester, Glasgow and Cardiff were our test cities and so far so good."
"And they were cleaned up okay?"
Draco hoped that Granger could read between the lines of that question. He wasn't particularly interested in how those cities had been rebuilt, but rather about whether what had happened in London had happened there.
The pity he read in her brown eyes confirmed that she was as astute as he'd imagined her to be. "Yes, they were finished a lot earlier. The crews have been moved to other cities to get them ready."
The anger that ripped through his chest took him unawares. "Then why was no one moved here?" he asked angrily.
"I petitioned for help to be sent here but the Ministry were worried that another incident might take place."
His rage increased. The Ministry would know that only he was still here. They sent the food that kept the 'crews' as the ex-Death Eaters were so conveniently called, alive. They'd been sending just one for almost seven years now.
He swiped his hand across the table, knocking his plate to the floor. The loud crash did nothing to assuage his anger. "Did the Ministry think they were dealing with some psychopathic mastermind? They sent in a team to clean up the bodies. They knew how close to death I came, how lucky I was to kill Dolohov. And now you're telling me that they suspect that I would take out a new team. I tried to stay out of it. I only came back for food parcels because I could find nothing in Muggle London to live off. They knew this!"
"There were worries about your mental health; about what the massacre would've done to you."
He laughed bitterly. "Right! But yet it was okay to leave me here on my own for nearly seven fucking years? Fuck you and fuck the Ministry!"
He wished he had the guts to storm out; to just get away from it and lose himself in the darkness but he didn't dare. He still couldn't face the dark streets. It brought back far too many memories and even if he knew that there was no one out there to prey on him, he still had an irrational fear that there would be.
Instead he had to settle for staring moodily out of the window into the black night. He could see Granger's reflection in the flickering candle light and despite himself he stood there watching her watching him.
After a silent five minutes, she walked up and touched his shoulder, her eyes meeting his in the darkened window. "I'm sorry, Draco. I'm so sorry you were treated this way."
Part of him wanted to shrug her hand off and spit out a nasty retort the way his old self would've done, but most of him appreciated the sincerity in her voice. He knew her well enough to know that she really was sorry.
"It doesn't matter," he muttered.
"It does!" Granger exclaimed passionately. "You should never have been put in this position and the Ministry knows it. You were never in the same league as the other Death Eaters stationed here. You were just a kid."
He turned and smiled weakly at her. "I see you've lost none of your campaigning, bleeding heart zeal."
Draco had wanted to lighten the mood but he failed. She stared at him, guilt almost radiating out of her eyes. Great, he thought, I've become as useless as a house-elf in her mind.
"I have to go tomorrow," she said.
He wasn't sure why that small sentence made his stomach sink. It was probably because he was going to be alone again.
"Oh," he said in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone but he suspected sounded suspiciously bereft.
He rubbed a weary hand over his eyes, looking to escape the pity on her face. He didn't want pity; he wanted an end to this hellhole he'd been living in for seven years.
"Come with me," she said.
And his heart skipped a beat before pounding back into life.