Warning: alcoholism, depression and very mild hints at suicidal tendencies.
Hermione fidgeted nervously on the stone steps of Malfoy Manor. Draco had kept her at bay for almost two months now, with only a clipped "He's not ready," in response to her lengthy entreaties to be allowed to visit. At first she'd been concerned, but slowly the possibility had unfolded in her mind that perhaps it was Harry that didn't want to see her. After all, it was she that had forced him into rehab; she had taken away his freedom, and petitioned a childhood rival to be the keeper of the keys. No matter that the prison was Malfoy Manor, a prison was a prison nonetheless for all the creature comforts in the world.
She heard movement within, and then the door glowed silver as some charm was lowered, and the door swung in.
"Granger," Draco smirked, but it had none of the malice behind it that she remembered from their school days.
"Draco," she returned politely. If he had indeed been caring for Harry as he had sworn under the Unbreakable Vow to do, then she could spare him all the patience and kind words she had.
"You may join us for breakfast, if you wish," he said not impolitely, then as though he could sense what she was thinking, he added, "Harry is this way."
Hermione didn't bother to keep the eagerness she felt from her face, though she restrained her enthusiasm as she walked into the bright breakfast hall. Floor to ceiling glass windows lined one wall letting in all the light of the early summer sun. It glanced off white floor tiles and lit up the smooth white walls, giving the room an almost surreal, picturesque quality. In the centre of the long hall stood a long wooden table to match, and at one end of it breakfast was laid out. A great variety of cakes and pastries were stacked on beautiful serving dishes; orange and apple juice glittered in crystal jugs; a fountain of fruit looked as though it were more there for decoration than to be eaten, and polished silverware accompanied delicate teacups and saucers. Behind it all, sat at the end of the table in a high-backed chair, was Harry.
Hermione felt an overwhelming wash of emotions as he looked up from his breakfast and their eyes met in mid-air. He looked so well, was all she could think. She could have hugged Draco for that, but even as she stood mere feet away from Harry a small voice reminded her of the two months she had not been permitted into the Manor. Was Harry even a fraction as happy to see her as she was him? She hovered awkwardly between the door and the grand table. Then, suddenly, Harry smiled.
A genuine, happy, Harry smile.
Rising from his chair he closed the distance between them, and as Harry swept her up in his arms he said with such earnest, grateful sincerity that it moved her to tears,
"Thank you, Hermione. You really are the bravest person I know."
A/N: That's it! Thank you so much for reading if you made it to the end. If you have the time, I would absolutely love to know what you thought so please, please, please do leave a review and I will be eternally indebted to you ;) GG x
