AN: Edited April 5, 2016
Day 252 Continued
"I haven't annoyed you yet?"
"We've been sitting here for twenty minutes and you haven't said anything since our food arrived," he commented, sipping the ice tea beside him. "There isn't really much to be annoyed with."
She frowned, fiddling with her fingers. The shaking finally stopped once she sat down and had something to drink, ducking when the waitress tried to get a better look at her face. At least she was able to sit without jumping and trying to run now. "You don't mind me hanging around being extra company? I always took you for a loner."
"I am a loner," he agreed, eyes snapping to meet hers. "There's no use clogging up your life with people who don't understand you. I have very few friends, few and far between, and I rarely feel obligated to spend time with them. I have a huge amount of debt to handle, the crisis that is the Manor, and you. There isn't much time for company these days, which is just fine by me."
"What do you mean, me?" She questioned, shifting uncomfortably. She was listed amongst the things that stressed him most, which was never really a good sign. "You have no reason to worry about me Malfoy."
He gave her a skeptical look, glancing down at the food she had barely touched. "You might think you're big and strong Granger, but Azkaban is no laughing matter. Sometimes you're going to feel in control about the situation you were in and others you're going to panic, like just now in Diagon Alley. Like it or not you're going to need me."
Hermione's eyebrows shot up at his words. "I need you?"
"You just don't realize it yet, or maybe you do and you just won't admit to it," he said arrogantly, smirking at the surprised expression on her face. "I needed someone too when I came out of Azkaban, someone to assure me that I wasn't crazy for feeling the way I did. My help didn't come from such an easy place as my next door neighbor in prison."
Her eyebrows drew together. "Who did you look to for help?"
"It's not important," he replied, shaking his head. "What is important is getting past the mental block in your head. Azkaban is physically strenuous, but it is also incredibly mentally challenging. The mental side will remain long after the physical effects are gone."
"What kind of physical effects? I wasn't harmed there." She shifted uncomfortably at the end, and his eyes narrowed. It wasn't necessarily a lie. She wasn't harmed outside of malnourishment and terror.
"No, but you were malnourished and kept in cold conditions," he pointed out, as though he could read her mind. "I picked you up in that cell Granger. The clothing you were captured in was so distressed it barely hung over your body anymore. You were frigid to the touch, and you're lucky you weren't wounded when you were captured or I'm sure you'd be plagued by infection long before I reached you." He sipped his tea, ignoring the way her cheeks turned red at the reminder of her state of clothing back then. "It takes the body time to recover from all that. Trust me, I'm still learning and I've been out for quite some time. But I've also had an atrocious amount on my mind."
She pursed her lips, pushing the plate away entirely. "And when will the metal effects begin to subside?"
"I don't know Granger, to be honest. There aren't books written about this kind of thing, this isn't an exact science. The Ministry has never been concerned with what happens to the prisoners of Azkaban so long as they stay where they are. Few people care what's happened to those who are imprisoned, and care even less how everything affects them for the rest of their lives. I think Azkaban is too hardcore in a post-war world. There should be some sort of reform put on the place to make it at least somewhat humane. People staying there for years come out in bad condition. It takes time for them to heal, just like it will take you and I time to move on from our experiences."
"Are you still healing from Azkaban?"
He shrugged. "I'm mostly over it. I don't have nightmares or get panicky about anything anymore; it's just the mental blocks that remain. I can think of the types of people in the world who deserve a punishment like Azkaban, but they are extremists. I don't think basic criminals need to be locked away there. The punishment is too severe."
"I agree," she said, studying the blond man before her. He really was nothing like she expected him to be. "When do you presume that the news reporters will quit harassing me with questions?"
"You're a war heroine brought back from the dead. Do you think that it will ever really stop?"
"It stopped for you."
He chuckled. "I'm no hero. Even saving you from Azkaban doesn't make me one. I'm just a Death Eater who escaped a life sentence there, that's all. Society doesn't hold me high anymore, not like they hold you. Being a Malfoy no longer has an prestige in society." Shaking his head, his eyes slipped off past her head to the distant windows. "Everyone will want to know every detail of your story Granger. That is something you must accept. You don't have to share any of it, of course, but you have to understand that people will continue wondering about it."
"You're right."
Draco nodded. "Yes, I am. But something tells me you didn't ask me to lunch so we could talk about such mundane topics. Something has to be bothering you."
She blinked, looking up into crystal clear grey eyes. He could read her like a book. "Do you know everything that's running through my head?"
"I can imagine," he replied shrugging. "I have a better chance at understanding than your friends do. I don't think they've even begun listing the casualties to you yet."
"Casualties? Who died Draco?! Nobody had told me the truth yet." She sighed, resting her head in her hands. "That's not true. They told me about some of the people who passed, Remus, Tonks… Yaxley too. He's the only one I haven't pitied for dying."
"You shouldn't."
"But they won't tell me anything more. Important people died, people that we cared about before I was stolen. And now they won't even let tell me the truth. Ginny says Harry and Ron want to handle it a certain way, but it isn't working. I just need to know."
He shook his head sadly, regarding both her heartbroken expression and the broken tone she used when uttering his real name. "You might think I have all the answers, but some things need to come from your friends. Most of the people you would care to know about aren't people I had close or good relationships with. I know many of them, but it's not my place to reveal such things. Your friends should."
It was surprising to hear him talk in such a way. Usually all he could do was put her friends down. Here he was encouraging her to speak to them about the topic. That concerned her, making her wonder exactly who perished, who was left to metion.
When he refused to answer her question for the second time she sat back and considered her situation. Despite Draco Malfoy really being the only person who understood her predicament, she didn't want to start sobbing on his arm. She didn't really want to break down at all. All she wanted was someone to confide in.
Apparently he took her silence as an opportunity to speak up. "Do you like staying at Potter's?"
"I- well, it's okay I suppose. Homey, nice…"
"But you don't really want to be there," he remarked.
Glancing away she nodded. "No, not really. I love that my friends are looking out for me, and I understand where they are coming from, but I feel like a stranger. My friends are walking on glass around me, afraid of pushing me over the edge. I wish they would just act normal."
"They're trying to be considerate."
"I don't want considerate! I want my friends." She sighed, taking several deep breaths before she tried speaking again. "I just want my real friends, not these careful - stepping people who are overly concerned. I would feel better if they would just act natural, joke around with me and make me feel welcome. But instead I feel isolated from them all and like I'm an outsider. It's like Azkaban changed me or something and now they are only tolerating me."
"I don't think they are tolerating you," he replied evenly. "They are just worried. And they have a right to be after your experience. When I pulled you out of that cell Granger you were hardly recognizable. I know you might not remember it because it all happened very fast, but Potter and Weasley were there. I'm certain that they do remember every single detail."
She cringed, imagining the terrible wreck she must've been when help finally came.
"That's the image that I bet stuck with your friends, the damaged, terrified girl that was left all alone in Azkaban. Potter and Weasley probably told their significant others and maybe Weasley's parents. I don't know if they would've told anyone else, but that's the image ingrained with them, the tortured soul that they ignored for so long because they didn't think of Azkaban, and because they didn't believe me."
Hermione nodded slowly, beginning to see their side of things.
"Unless you speak up to them about your feelings no one's ever going to know how you are feeling. You're conversations with me are great, but you have to keep your friends connected too. They want what's best for you."
"When did you become a philosopher Draco?" she mocked, trying to lighten to solemn mood. "You're suddenly so insightful."
He shrugged, looking at her with an expression she couldn't really read. "When you get locked away for a time, it does things to you. I've just seen a different side of life."
"Well, I like this side of you. This open Draco is much more relatable than the ice-cold person you once were."
"I'm only open to you Granger. It might come as a surprise, but just as I've become your confidant you've somewhat become mine. We can share things amongst each other that other people can't fully understand."
She nodded her head vigorously, glad he was seeing her side of things. "Exactly!"
They lapsed into silence, perfectly comfortable in one another's company. Hermione tried to study the blond, tried to see inside his mind like he saw into hers, but she just couldn't do it. Draco spent years before Azkaban and the war keeping his guard up. His walls were firmer than her own, and harder to break down.
"Potter has a floo system?" he asked at one point, his plate devoid of food. She finally snapped her eyes off his forehead to look at him.
"Everyone has a floo system," she joked, raising an eyebrow at her question.
Nodding, he shifted in his seat. For the first time in a long time, he looked uncertain about what he was going to say next. His grey eyes lost their cool glow. "I'll connect it to mine if you like. You might need the connection."
"How so?" she asked, sitting forward in her seat. It wasn't every day that a Malfoy offered something so surprising, and of his own free will too.
"When it gets really tough at night, trust me," he muttered, looking away again. She narrowed her eyes, wondering if there was more to the nightmares than he let on. "You'll want someone to speak to. I'll connect it, but just for you. It won't allow anyone else through."
She nodded slowly. "And you will really do that for me?"
"I wish someone had been able to do it for me," he replied, standing. "Try to eat some of that, even if you don't feel hungry. It will make you feel better."
He pulled out some money and left quite a bit on the table, tipping his head to her. "Don't go looking for any more jobs today okay? Just let your body rest."
They said nothing else, and he left without a backwards glance. She watched him leave, wondering why he was so straightforward about everything, It was nice, but a bit perplexing. Sitting back in the chair she sighed, staring down at her food. Maybe she could try eating a little bit…
Day 255
The past three days had been exceptionally hard on Hermione. She was listening, not going out in public for too long and eating when required, but her world had been shattered three days ago and she didn't know what to do now.
Harry, Ron and Ginny sat her down the night of her lunch with Draco and counted off who had died during the war. It was a painful topic, one she realized the trio had avoided speaking of until now. They were just as hurt as she was by the losses, only they had more time to come to terms with what had happened. Too much grief attacked her heart, and she found it extremely difficult to function over the next two days. Ginny, thinking ahead, had supplied the fridge with cookie dough and ice cream as comfort foods for her friend, and Hermione readily accepted the foods. They couldn't heal her broken heart but at least it tasted good.
It was day three now and she still had a hard time accepting things. It was getting a little easier, but she had avoided sleeping much the past two nights for fear of dreaming of the deceased. Now though, her body could take no more sleep deprivation and forced her under during the middle of the day, while she was alone in the apartment.
Nightmares, that's all she had. She was used to them by this point, but these nightmares focused on different topics than her previous ones. Instead of these nightmares being about her own torments, they were about her friends who she would never see again.
Hermione woke in a sweat, gasping as she woke. Daylight streamed through the open window blinding her for a moment, and she had to cover her eyes before she could really wake up. Struggling into a sitting position she realized she was crying.
She missed them, all the people who believed her to be dead - all the people she didn't get a chance to say goodbye to. They left an empty hole in her heart.
Standing on shaky legs she rubbed the tears away, breathing as best she could. With no one else home she wasn't concerned about her appearance, and headed straight to the fridge for some more comfort food. She wanted anything to keep her mind off things.
"It's all gone," she moaned aloud, leaning her head sadly against the freezer. Both the ice cream and cookie dough were empty. She had put the containers back in the freezer without noticing and now regretted it. All she wanted was comfort food, and she couldn't even have that as she threw the empty containers away.
Sitting on the couch she pulled her legs to her chest, willing the tears to stop coming. She had been strong for quite some time, but even her heart broke every once in a while. She just missed her friends so much and reality was crashing down on her a little more each day. She felt smothered under a bucket load of things she couldn't control.
What she needed more than anything was someone to talk to. Worrying her lip she glanced towards the fireplace, having ignored the Floo for two long days. He would surely listen, but she wondered if it was too much to pelt out all of her emotions to the blond, who was typically secluded and emotionless. They talked, but never about emotional topics like this.
Then again, he had been very open and straightforward with her since returning from Azkaban. Maybe he wouldn't mind the extra company for a while.
Standing she headed to the Floo, picking up her discarded wand off the table. It was new, not the wand she had before she was captured. As far as she knew, Bellatrix snapped the thing in half before Yaxley hauled her off. Harry brought her this as a present, hoping she could awaken some of the magic inside of her again. She had left it there two nights ago and hadn't gone back for it since. The effort took too much out of her. Taking a deep breath she stared at the Floo for a long time.
He hadn't given her specific directions, but so long as the Floo's were connected she had faith that she wouldn't end up in some strange place. If he really wanted to screw her, he wouldn't have come back to Azkaban. Stepping in she took a deep breath and grabbed some powder.
"Malfoy's," she whispered, before throwing down the powder.
The feel of flooing surged through her body, not nearly as overpowering as the last time she used one. She still stumbled when she arrived, falling out of the fireplace in a heap. She immediately noticed that this was not the Manor, and the floor was carpet not stone. The walls were a simple beige, and the furniture was streamline and new. She had never seen a room this small in the Manor either, and assumed that this was perhaps Draco's apartment. She scrambled to her feet, hoping that he wouldn't notice her graceless entrance, and immediately noticed him off to the left, nose deep in some paperwork.
At least he had been, before she landed unceremonially on his floor. He was standing now from the table, apparently about to approach her before she scrambled up. Now he maintained the distance, watching her with guarded eyes as though he wasn't sure how she would react.
"Hello," she said, stepping closer. She looked a mess, and could tell by the way he directed his attention to her as she stepped into the light. She was shaking a little, the adrenahline in her veins propelling her forward. He was watching her closely, as though worried he might have to rush forward at any moment in case she buckled. "Do you mind some company?"
He gestured to the chair next to him at the large table. "Be my guest." His eyes swept over her form again, causing her to subconsciously cross her arms over herself under his intense gaze. "Something troubling you?"
Hermione shrugged, moving to sit beside him at the table. He didn't rush forward, instead letting her make her own way across the space until she was finally sitting down in the seat. Only then did he sit down on the chair again and lean back, strong arms moving to stretch behind his body as he looked at her expectantly. She was quiet for many moments, hoping he wouldn't keep looking at her with those all-knowing eyes, before she finally broke.
"They told me who died."
Draco nodded in understanding, looking her over again as though to check she wasn't crying. "I read up on the death count myself after the war. I know many of those people were your friends, and I'm sorry for those you lost."
She nodded in return, grateful for his understanding anyway. His humble response helped her, reminding her he could be very kind when he wasn't busy pretending to be cold. "I'm just… having a hard time accepting it."
"Death is hard to accept under any circumstances," he agreed. "In large quantities it's even harder, and to have that thrown down on you on top of everything else is rather mind-shattering. You have a right to be upset and grieve you know."
"I've been crying for two days," she whispered, batting her eyes to keep the fresh bout of tears at bay. "My friends say they understand, and I know on some levels they do, but it's not the same for them. They knew by the end of the war pretty much everyone who was dead. They grieved together, attended the countless funerals together, and leaned on one another. For me it's kind of like going at it alone."
"If you talk to your friends," he mused, "Then you won't feel so alone. They did this too you know, just like everyone else in Britain. People grieve; it's a natural response to loss. Your friends were also their friends, they know what it feels like to have those empty spaces in their hearts. Talk to them Granger, I'm sure they will be more than happy to listen."
"I had a nightmare," she said then, glancing his direction. It was an abrupt change in topics, but the words just tumbled from her mouth. "All I did was dream that I watched each of my friends die, and my mind made up different scenarios, each more terrible than the last. I - I'm not sure I want to know exactly how they died."
He looked her over slowly, watching the trains of thin tears dance down her face. Grabbing the handkerchief he'd kept nearby he dabbed one side of her face, catching her attention.
"Then don't ask," he whispered, eyeing her. His delicate fingers danced to her other cheek, wiping it dry as well. "You know that they died fighting for what they believed in, and every one of them would be happy to know that Voldemort's gone. Just let that idea carry you through your grieving, instead of focusing on what could have happened to each individual person. You'll sleep better that way."
She nodded, resting her hand over his for a moment before taking the handkerchief away to continue wiping her tears. Draco watched in silence, arms crossed loosely over his chest.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, forcing a smile as she tried to change subjects. "You look pretty busy."
He shrugged, waving his hand over the piles of paperwork. It filed itself neatly into one tall stack on his other side. "It's the same thing I've been doing since I got out of Azkaban. Debts have to be paid, the Malfoy Corporation has to be restored and restarted, and it's my duty now as my father's successor to ensure that these things are done in a timely manner. If people didn't hate me because of my family's involvement in the war though, it would be a lot easier to get half of this stuff done."
"Can I help?" she questioned, tilting her head. "You've done so much to help me, and -"
He shook his head, silencing her by resting a hand on top of hers. "These are my problems Granger. I will handle them as best I can. You've got enough to worry about and straighten out in your life, don't worry about mine."
"But -"
"Please - don't. I'll feel better knowing my troubles aren't troubling you. Maybe once you're on your feet, if I am still struggling you could assist me. But please, just worry about yourself for now."
She pressed her lips together. He certainly wasn't worrying just about himself.
He glanced at her, noting the puffiness of her eyes. "Have you been crying for some time now?"
"I woke up crying."
Draco nodded, standing up. "Would you like some tea? It won't take long to make, and you look like you could use a cup."
She smiled gratefully. "Tea would be lovely."
It took a few short minutes to brew the tea and before Hermione knew it she found herself sitting on some of Draco's streamline furniture in his flat, the blond himself sitting right beside her.
"I find tea to be very calming," he mused, sipping the hot beverage. "I used to drink buckets of it when I first got out."
"Do you think it helps?"
Draco shrugged. "I think anything helps you if you believe it does. My scapegoat from my pain and remorse was drinking tea and pouring over hideous amounts of paperwork. Give it a bit of time Granger, you will find what comforts you too. And when you do hold onto it. It'll make life easier."
"I don't know what will help me," she sighed. "I haven't found anything yet."
"Well, you're welcome to speak with me. I may not fully understand everything going on in your head but I have a better understanding than most people. I know I never personally wanted to share all of my feelings with everyone, but it does help to talk about it… sometimes. I might not be so fucked over now if I had talked about what was going on in my head."
She frowned, looking over at him. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing," he replied quickly, leaning back against the couch, his cup placed down on the table. "Nothing Granger. Let's just… relax."
Hermione found that she wanted nothing more than to relax, and set her cup down as well. The brunette also leaned back, resting her head against the sofa. If she stayed a few minutes longer she could take a cat-nap.
She never noticed her head slowly falling to the side, nor the way sleep stole her under like a thief in the night. The only person who noticed her tired behavior was Draco, who glanced over when her head fell on his shoulder. For many moments the blond simply sat and stared at her, fingers moving ever so slowly to brush her hair out of her face.
He had not experienced such human contact in years, and to receive the tingly feelings he got from Hermione was just unheard of. He knew exactly what was happening to him as he let her rest against his shoulder, and he feared the path it would take him down.
Hermione woke some time later from another nightmare, screaming as she sat up. Unfamiliar with her surroundings at first she panicked, completely falling off the sofa with a loud thud.
It took her many moments to realize where she was. The last thing she recalled was sitting with Draco earlier on his sofa, and then she began to get comfortable and tired. Had she fallen asleep?
Of course you fell asleep Hermione!
When she arrived earlier it was mid-afternoon, but glancing out the nearby window she realized it was nighttime. How long had she been out?
"I was starting to wonder if you would ever get up," he said, startling her from the other side of the room. "I thought about getting up to see if you were alright when you fell, but I figured it would just freak you out if someone appeared before you remembered where you are."
Hermione blinked, squinting her eyes in his direction. He was back at the dining room table pouring over paperwork again. Standing she slowly made her way towards him, wiping sleep from her eyes.
"Did you lace my drink or something?" she asked, a yawn escaping as she spoke.
He laughed at that, shaking his head though he didn't look up. "Hardly. Your body was so tired from lack of sleep the past few days you practically passed out as soon as I got some tea in you. You've been out for hours. I left you there - figured you needed the rest."
"Thank you," she said, eyeing him. "What time is it exactly?"
"Quarter to ten Granger. You're friends are probably worried sick about you."
She gasped. "Yes they are! Harry and Ginny worry about me so much, and Ron would have a fit if he thought something happened to me. Merlin, I need to go back right now. I'll be lucky if they haven't already sent out a search party."
"You can always Floo them too," he suggested. "Then you wouldn't have to go back tonight."
"And why wouldn't I want to go back?" Hermione asked suspiciously, eyeing the blond again.
He cleared his throat then, eyes drifting back to his paperwork. "It occurs to me Granger that you complained about being unable to sleep for the past two nights no matter what you did, yet here you slept for hours without a peep up until you screamed and fell off the sofa. If it makes you more comfortable to sleep here - for whatever reason - I have a guest room you are always welcome to if it will make the healing process easier."
At first she didn't say a thing as she was too stunned by his offer. Just a few days ago she was afraid she was annoying him by hanging around him too much yet here he was suggesting that she come stay with him if it made her feel better.
Draco really, really cared about her apparently. But what would her friends say if she stayed the night at Malfoy's?
Does it matter? You are an adult now and you can do whatever you want, especially if it means getting to feel better.
"I'll have to go back to Harry's," she said, drawing his attention. "I - I mean my stuff is over there. I at least need my toothbrush and pajamas. And it will go over better if I at least explain things in person." She wasn't sure what she would say, or if she'd even be coming back tonight. Yet the words seemed to form themselves and tumble out of her mouth before she had time to think about them.
They were both acting as though this was not at all a perplexing deal, one that would startle anyone who learned about it. They were both acting as though it was natural to sleep in close quarters together.
Then again, it was. They did share a wall in prison for quite some time.
He nodded, standing. "I'll get your room ready. Truth be told no one has stayed in that guest room since I bought the place. Come back whenever you are ready to."
Hermione smiled gratefully, turning away to face the Floo. Telling her friends about her new choice of room wasn't going to be easy, but deep down she could feel that this was something she had to do.
A/n: And here is chapter 4. Keep reading and reviewing my loves they mean a lot!
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