A/N: Thank you for the support so far! Standard disclaimers apply.
As of June 2018, Chapter 2 has been revised. Nearly 2,000 words have been added and a few things changed.
….
The fireplace at Number 12 Grimmauld Place flashed and flickered with bright green flames and surprised Harry Potter to the point that he almost dropped the picture of himself, Ron, and Hermione he had been looking at. He pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose and rose to greet the tall, blonde man stepping out of the flames.
"Malfoy." Harry greeted him, rising from where he had been sitting on the sofa and offering his hand to the blonde.
Draco accepted it with a firm handshake. "Potter. Is it a good time?" He said, eyeing the slightly rumpled photograph near the sofa.
Harry nodded. "It's as good a time as any, given the circumstances." He motioned to living area, inviting Draco to sit. "Would you like a drink?"
Draco settled on the arm of a chair and shook his head, "No thanks. I've been drowning myself in scotch and Pansy's been giving me hell for it."
Harry sunk back down to where he had been sitting on the sofa. "I know what you mean. Is she back in the country?" He said, solemnly, picking up the moving photograph he had been watching before Draco arrived.
"She had a two-hour layover before she got on another one of those flying muggle death traps so we had had lunch yesterday while she was waiting for her flight. Well, she had lunch and I had scotch." Draco said with a shrug of his shoulders.
He took a deep breath and posed the question he had come to ask. "Have you seen Granger?"
The forced expression of contentment Harry had been holding on his face to this point dropped. His eyes were rimmed in red and there were dark circles under his eyes. With a shake of his head, he responded. "No. Molly keeps us informed, though. She was like a mum to Hermione after she was unable to reverse the memory charms on her parents."
"I remember…"
"Several of us have tried but she won't have anyone in her room." Harry continued. "She, um… she's made several attempts over the past week." After uttering those words, Harry looked like he wanted to vomit.
Draco closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can't get that night out of my head. She… she's permanently etched on the back of my eyelids." Draco murmured.
Draco heard the giggle of a child and opened his eyes to see that Ginny had entered the room with James balanced on her hip. She was gingerly directly a levitated tea service to the coffee table. The little boy who was oblivious to the world's troubles was clapping his hands and reaching for Draco.
Giving the child a half smile, Draco took him from Ginny's hands and tickled his belly. "Why hello there, Mr. Potter." He said teasingly as the child flashed him a toothy grin as a dribble of spit escaped from his mouth.
"I think it's time for a good, strong cup of tea," Ginny said, handing Draco a handkerchief to deal with her son's drool.
Draco wiped the child's mouth. "Thank you, Ginny." He said with a chaste peck to the boy's head as the redhead witch handed him a cup with milk and two sugars, just the way he liked it.
Ginny fondly placed her hand on Draco's forearm. "We owe you everything, Draco. If you weren't family before, you certainly are now." She said with a sorrow laced sincerity that tugged at Draco's heartstrings.
He set his tea down, pulling the youngest Weasley in for a side hug as his godson attempted to chew on the Malfoy signet ring adoring his hand in a ploy to ease his sore gums. From the other side of the room, Harry let out a snicker, probably the first in several days since Hermione had been recovered.
"I'll let you break the news to Ron." Harry said with a playful snort.
"I'll break my brother's face if he disagrees," Ginny said with a wistful smile somewhat reminiscent of Luna Lovegood.
"Does this mean I'm expected at Sunday dinners, now?" He chuckled, shifting James's mouth away from the centuries-old ring, ignoring the surprisingly thick layer of drool that was coating his hand.
"And all of the birthday parties," said Harry.
"And you must bring presents… especially during the month of August." Ginny said with a wiggle of her brows.
Draco rolled his eyes at his friends, "Percy, great tosser that he is, is getting absolutely nothing from me." He chuckled, reveling in the brief break in their shared heartache.
Years later, he was still amazed that they had managed to overcome their differences from their school days.
….
"Did you know it's been nearly two months since you came to us, dearie?" said the cheerful healer as she bustled about Hermione's room, carefully measuring out several different potions.
Hermione glared at the woman with furrowed brows. If she didn't loathe her before, she certainly loathed the ever-exuberant woman now. Why is Merlin's name did the damned woman need to be so bloody joyful all of the time?
She was the reason Hermione's room had been stripped to prison-like conditions. Her sheets and clothing were charmed so she would be unable to twist or roll them into any sort of rope. The remainder of the furniture had been removed and all that was left was the bed and the bathtub in the corner of the room.
Oh, and bath time was now thoroughly supervised following Hermione's last stunt. Not to mention all flowers were thoroughly stripped of their thorns and were cut short.
Cunt.
Hermione pulled her legs to her chest and hugged them with her arms. She moved only to accept each potion the medi-witch handed her. The potions helped her to not feel so much and for that she was grateful, so she drank the potions. Being numb was cathartic and reminded her of that escape she so desired.
"Your friends have been trying to visit, you know." The medi-witch reminded her.
"No." She said plainly, keeping her eyes focused straight ahead. It was better this way. She was better off alone.
….
Hermione directed her normal steady gaze at the healer who was once again bustling around her sparsely furnished room. "May I have a book?" she whispered quietly. It was the first full sentence she had spoken in the months since she had been brought to St. Mungo's.
This action clearly delighted the medi-witch because she squealed and nearly jumped for joy at Hermione's request. Hermione scowled.
With a flourish of her wand, several leather-bound texts appeared at the base of Hermione's bed. With tentative fingers after several moments of consideration, Hermione selected one, tracing the spine of the book with her thumb. The healer levitated the remaining books from the bed to the windowsill.
"Thank you," Hermione said quietly, gingerly opening the cover of the book and inhaling the scent of leather binding, ink, and parchment.
"You're quite welcome, Ms. Granger." The healer said as she sashayed from the room.
Hermione tucked a short tendril behind her ear and turned to the first page of the first chapter, devouring the words more quickly than she could anticipate. She felt a sense of calmness rush over her as she read each word, soon losing herself in the story.
She lifted her eyes from the yellowing pages of the book as she heard a soft knock at the door.
"It's probably just that infuriating woman again". She muttered to herself, shifting her eyes back to the text, determined to continue ignoring the healer. When she wasn't greeted with the bright, nauseating voice of the healer, she once again shifted her gaze to the door.
Within seconds the book was discarded with fluttering of pages and a thump on the floor as Hermione found herself crouched in a corner of the room near the window and as far away from the door as she could possibly get, staring down a tall wizard with high cheekbones, silver eyes, and hair so blonde it was nearly white. She clawed desperately at the walls as a solid ball of panic lodged itself in her abdomen. Her eyes were frenzied and terror-stricken as her eyes darted between the man, the floor, and the door.
Draco stood frozen near the door, a set of robes draped over his forearm. "Granger, it's me. Malfoy." He said, referred to himself by his surname in an effort to evoke a sense of familiarity for the terrified woman.
"I won't come any closer," he assured her keeping his voice quiet and soothing as the corners of his mouth lifted in a smile that was meant to be reassuring.
Hermione stared at the wizard, her eyes wide as she ran through her knowledge of the man in the flickers of clarity that broke through the agitation and moments of terror.
Draco Malfoy.
Former classmate.
Slytherin.
Arrogant prick.
Death Eater.
No. Wait.
Acquaintance?
Somewhat likable?
Auror?
Inhaling a deep breath, her body relaxed slightly and she stood up straight, her hands pressing against the walls more for support as though she were attempting to ground herself.
Draco fiddled with the signet ring on his finger as he watched her with a careful gaze. "I was there the night you were rescued. My team was the one who found you." He said, keeping his voice quiet and level with a soothing prosody.
She looked markedly better compared to the night he found her, but it was evident she still had a long way to go. The evidence of her physical wounds was almost gone. He could still see traces of the bruises on her arms and neck and he could see the faded traces of white scar lines on some parts of her body. Her curls were cropped much shorter than he recalled from the last time he saw her, falling between her ears and the tops of her shoulders. She was still dangerously thing, but he noted she was no longer completely skin and bones so at least the healers had succeeded in getting some form of nutrition into her body.
"Go away." She hissed through her teeth, keeping her back pressed into the corner of the room as her flight or fight response attempted to kick in from the adrenaline coursing through her body. Her eyes continued to flit between him, the floor, and door by which he was standing.
"I'll do ask you ask, Hermione, but I promise you that I will be back tomorrow." Draco inclined his head towards the frantic woman and slipped out of the room. As he closed the door behind him, he heard a terrified wail coming from within her room and his heart ached to help her.
….
Draco sat across from Harry and Ginny Potter with his arm casually draped around the shoulders of Pansy Parkinson at a pub located a few blocks over from the Leakey Cauldron in muggle London. Draco was calmly nursing a tumbler of whiskey served neat.
"One of these days, your liver is going to rebel against you and I won't rush you to St. Mungo's when it does." Pansy chided with a smirk as she knocked back a shot of tequila followed by a quick pop of a lime into her mouth.
"You're worse than I am, half of the time." He said, elbowing the cheeky witch in her ribs.
"Watch it!" Pansy exclaimed, playfully slapping Draco's chest.
"That's what? Shot number three? You know what they say about tequila shots, Pansy…" Ginny mused with a smirk as sipped on a glass of ice water.
"Don't forget the martini she had while she was waiting for us to get here." Harry pointed out.
Pansy's eyes widened as she released an offended scoff. "I did no such –"
"I can smell the olive on your breath, Parkinson." Draco said with raised brows as he shook his head. "You're a terrible liar."
She huffed and wiggled out from under his arm, sitting back in the corner of the booth as she crossed her arms over her chest. "You're all a bunch of pricks."
This once a week outing after work with his friends was probably the only semblance of normalcy in his chaotic life. He spent the majority of his days working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement – Auror Division, his nights barely sleeping, and when he wasn't doing either of those two things, pacing the halls of St. Mungo's. At times, Ginny and/or Molly paced with him. Harry still had trouble bringing himself to the hospital and Ron was almost as bad.
Before her disappearance, Hermione had joined their weekly outings periodically do the non-descript pub in the middle of muggle London. Draco recalled she preferred fruity drinks with strange names like Malibu Sunrise or Sex on the Beach. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost smell the intoxicating scent of her perfume and hear a peal of ringing laughter as it echoed from her lips. He missed those days though they had been no more than casual acquaintances drawn together by a shared group of friends. They had put aside their differences from school but certainly never sought one another out outside of these weekly outings.
She was like a drug burning through his system which fueled his own nightmares and he felt a desperation to pull her into her arms, kiss her forehead, and spin the time turner to erase the past six years of misery for her. She has refused when the healers had offered her oblivation, but after her experiences with oblivation, he couldn't blame the witch.
Harry broke the momentary silence that had settled on the group. "How is she?" He said, staring off into his pint of Guinness as Ginny rubbed soothing circles over her husband's back.
"She stayed in the bed this time and I was able to move about five steps into the room," Draco said, solemnly, taking a long pull from his tumbler. Pansy uncrossed her arms and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
"She still won't let anyone else into the room." Ginny, who was desperate to see the witch who was like a sister to her, mumbled with a sigh. "Mum tried last week and Hermione nearly had a seizure. The healers had to sedate her."
"She's started reading again." Draco offered as he traced his fingers over a crack in the table.
"I think that's a step in the right direction," Harry said.
"Time will tell," Draco said curtly as he knocked back the rest of the amber liquid in his glass.
….
Hermione stared curiously at the white lilies that were set in a glass vase with an unbreakable charm to prevent her from shattering the vase and using the glass against herself. It had been several weeks since she had made an attempt, but there really wasn't anything for her to make an attempt with. She noted the small silver card tucked amongst the blooms and plucked it out with her fingers. She traced the neat lettering as she read the three words several times over.
Thinking of you.
It was simply signed with "DM". Draco Malfoy. Hermione had spent the past several moments going over any and every reason why he might possibly be sending her flowers as she did every week. There had been at least one bouquet of flowers delivered every week without fail. Last week was a simple arrangement of bluebells and foxglove. The week before was a fragrant bouquet of freesia which was preceded by a colorful display of tulips.
With a resigned sigh, she requested a quill, ink, and parchment from the healer who had delivered the flowers.
The medi-witch smiled and summoned the requested items. "You understand I must watch you with the quill?"
With a nod of her head, Hermione traced her fingers over the velvety feather of the quill. She noted idly she could no longer see any remains of the bruises that had dotted her arms.
Thank you for the beautiful flowers. She wrote with a flourish of the quill. Folding the parchment in half and handing the items back to the witch, she said: "Can you please send it to him?" Hermione motioned towards the card she had plucked from the vase of lilies.
Within the hour, the medi-witch arrived at her room carrying a small bouquet of cornflowers tied with an indigo ribbon and joined to a letter, both of which must have arrived via owl post. Hermione opened the letter and saw the same neat handwriting as on the card that had accompanied the lilies.
These are from the gardens around my home. I hope you find them just as l lovely.
It was once again signed with a simple "DM".
After requesting the flowers be put into water and placed near the lilies, Hermione once again requested the quill, ink, and parchment. She chewed on the inside of her lip for several minutes before finally dipping her quill into the inkwell.
….
Draco sat in the garden, toying with a cornflower as one of the owls from the hospital landed on the wrought iron table. He took the parchment from the owl and opened the letter, smiling as he saw her neat, precise handwriting.
Can you come? I'd like to ask you a few questions
He traced each letter with his finger before tucking the parchment into the pocket of his trousers. He made his way inside of his town-home and didn't hesitate in picking up a handful of floo powder and calling out his destination.
Within moments, he was knocking softly on the door to Hermione's room. He slowly opened the door and stepped beyond the threshold remaining still until she gave the slight nod her head that meant "come closer, but not too close." The corners of his mouth turned upwards as she moved towards her with slow, steady steps. He settled in the chair near her bed as she pulled her knees to her chest, running her fingers over the white cotton trousers she was wearing.
As Draco waited for her to speak, he noted her hair had grown and was nearly touching her shoulders. He began to twist the signet ring around his finger as he waited for her to break the tense silence.
Several additional minutes passed before he heard her whisper, "What happened to him?" as tears rose to the corners of her eyes.
"He was sentenced to Azkaban for life without any chance of appeal or parole. They wanted to reinstate the Kiss, but Shacklebolt wouldn't allow it. I have it on good authority he is being treated with exactly the amount of care he deserves."
Draco silently reminded himself to send off another sack of Galleons to the guards who were in charge of the bastard to ensure his level of care was exactly as he deserved.
Salty tears began to snake down her cheeks, pooling in her lap, as he relayed what happened to her abuser which culminated in mournful sobs that wracked her body.
Before he could stop himself, he was at her side and his hand was resting on her forearm. Time seemed to slow as Hermione's body seized up and her fist was making contact with his face. The surprise of her actions sent him toppling backward onto the tile floors with a decidedly ungraceful thud. Once he ceased seeing stars, he saw she was back in the corner of the room.
"I deserved that." He said, rubbing his hand over his rapidly swelling cheek. He would ask a healer to give him a swelling-reduction potion later. He slowly stood up from the floor and moved back into the chair.
"I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to frighten you." He apologized.
Several moments of silence passed and finally, the tension in Hermione's body visibly relaxed and she slowly moved back to her bed, pulling her knees once more to her chest.
"How long has it been?" she asked after several minutes, wiping the remnants of her tears from her cheeks.
Draco took a moment to consider if she was asking how long she had spent in captivity or how long it had been since she was rescued. He went with the latter. "You've been at St. Mungo's for six months."
"Why are you the only one who comes?"
Draco chose his words carefully. "Ginny and Molly are here often, but they often look in on you after you've fallen asleep given your previous reactions. They give the rest of the Weasley clan regular reports. Potter decided to wait until you asked for him, but he sometimes accompanies Ginny."
Hermione released a sigh and tucked her chin to her chest. "I don't like the potions they give me. They don't stop the nightmares… they only stop my screaming."
Draco involuntarily reached his hand towards Hermione, but pulled it back once he recalled the implications of his previous actions. His cheek throbbed as if to spite him.
She turned her head towards him and for the first time since the night he rescued her, her brown eyes fully met his gray eyes. "Does it hurt?" Draco wasn't sure if he imagined it, but he thought she sounded concerned about punching him in the face.
"A bit", he admitted with a slight smirk.
She apologized, her lips curving downward into a frown. "I'm sorry I punched you, Malfoy."
His heart gave a little jump as she uttered his surname. "I'm pretty sure I deserved it." He admitted with a cheeky wink.
She nodded, her gaze dropping to the two vases of flowers and she remembered he had been the one to send them. "Thank you for the flowers."
