Draco Malfoy's House


"Two sugars?"

"Yes please."

Hermione Granger settled further into the plush sofa of Draco Malfoy's living room, a blanket draped around her shoulders, as he came through to place the mugs on the coffee table and draw the curtains with a wave of his wand.

"Thank you for letting me use your owl. Hopefully Harry and Ron will have calmed down by tomorrow."

"Granger..." Draco began.

"I know." She murmured, sipping her tea and feeling herself warm up immediately.

"Who would do this?"

"There's probably a shorter list of people that wouldn't." She caught his puzzled look. "Oh come on, Draco. Over the past few years I've made hell for some of the worst people in the Wizarding world. Of course I'm on a lot of people's hit lists."

He rubbed a hand over his face. "But who would actually go through with it?"

"Well, I get a lot of death threats, and there's been I think two attempts on my life in the past eighteen months. The thought of it isn't entirely unusual. Although what is strange, is how they got so close in the first place."

"Sensory wards?"

"Hundreds of them. Everywhere I go. Harry and Ron too. The war might be over but it's hard to shake that mentality."

He nodded in agreement, reaching for his own tea. "You're not the only one."

They sat in silence for a few long minutes, enjoying the comfortable quietness and sweet tea.

"You're bruised." He mentioned a moment later.

"Unsurprising. I hit the ground quite hard, twice."

"On your face as well."

"Hm. Do you have a mirror I could use? I find it easier to heal when I can see my injuries."

"Sit still." He reached for his wand.

"Oh, no, Malfoy. It's fine, I can do it myself."

"Just sit still and be quiet." He placed two cool fingers under her chin and tilted her face into the light. "There's no lasting damage, and I'm not concerned for concussion or any more serious injuries."

"I'd already assessed."

"I'm sure. And you don't seem to be going in to shock."

"I'd noticed."

He placed his wand to her cheekbone as she felt the magic begin to go to work under her skin across the purpling bruise. "The main question, however, is why you ended up here of all places."

"Oh." He angled her head to the other side and went to work on a small scrape on her forehead. "I'm not sure."

"You apparated yourself?"

"Well, yes, but I-"

"Then you sent yourself here."

"I know that." She sighed as he finished working on her face and moved his wand down to her arms. "I'm not sure when I've even been here before, to be honest."

"My secondary interview. After Azkaban."

"Of course. I was part of the team for your assessment."

"To see if I was still partial to the Dark Arts." He smirked. "Give me your leg."

"What?"

"Your leg. I can see the bruising on your ankle already. Give it here and I'll heal it."

"Right. Well then." She propped her leg up onto his lap, as he carefully cradled her ankle. "You're quite talented at this."

"It's a skill you pick up quite swiftly when the Dark Lord takes up residence in your family home."

"Oh. I didn't think..."

"No problem. Do you mind if I..." He gestured to her knees, the material of her suit trousers tattered and frayed around the wound.

"No. Go ahead." She clutched her empty mug tightly as his hands made their way up her calves, pushing the material back to give him better access. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant sensation. Gazing down at him working on her body was giving her an unusual feeling, and she was quite sure that she was beginning to enjoy his long fingers treating her so delicately.

He glanced up at her, catching her stare as her own breath caught and a blush rose on her cheeks. "Enjoying watching, are you, Granger?"

She cleared her throat before she could speak clearly again. "I'm just surprised you didn't choose to work at St. Mungo's."

It was his own turn to blush now as he dropped his gaze to her legs again. "Truthfully? I considered it. I even looked into their Healership training programme. I was told in no uncertain terms that I would not be an ideal candidate to treat the wizarding masses. Who would trust an ex-Death Eater, anyway."

She placed her fingers tentatively on his. "I would."

It was a long moment before either of them looked away, but Draco was the first to break the intensity. "Well, you're all done now."

"Thank you, Malfoy. Draco."

He reached for her mug to take back into the kitchen. "No problem."

"So..." It was her turn to broach the subject this time. "Who's Terrence Higgs?"

She felt Draco freeze up immediately, his seeker reflexes quick to stop the cup from falling from his hands. He let out a sigh and sat back down. "Where did you hear that name?"

"Blaise Zabini."

"Of course you did."

"He suggested I look into Higgs. Said it might be useful."

Draco regarded her for a long moment, a decision being made in his mind. "He was a Slytherin. A couple of years above me at Hogwarts. Not my biggest fan."

"I guessed as much."

"So you've read his file."

"Actually, he barely has one. Suspected Death Eater, but that's about it, nothing proven. I wanted to hear what you had to say. You're our Consultant after all."

He rolled his eyes but she knew he enjoyed the title. "Fine. He was the Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team for a while. A good player. Reliable. Up until our Second Year."

"When you made the team."

"You know what happened there, Granger. Father bribed Flint with new brooms, and Flint being the greediest troll on the planet bumped him off in favour of me. Higgs has had a vendetta against me ever since, and that wasn't helped any further when I was tasked with killing Dumbledore. Everyone else knew it was a suicide mission that You-Know-Who had set me on to see my family fail. But Higgs didn't take it like that. He saw it as me being chosen over him yet again." Draco ran a hand through his hair and leant back into the couch.

"He went mad over the challenge and the ambition, but never actually made it far enough to do anything worth convicting over. Got a few months in Azkaban, like most of the outer circle did, and he was set free into society again. I'd heard rumours that he was keen to get the old gang back together, but I stayed as far away from that as I could. I wouldn't risk going back to that place for anything."

"The old gang?"

"Mostly people from school. Supposedly, he wants to campaign for Pureblood rights, stop some of the pro-Muggle-born laws being finalised, but to be honest it just seems to be a bit of a wannabe group."

"So he's likely to have approached Goyle."

"I would assume so, yes."

"And if Goyle was back on the straight and narrow, he would have said no."

"I hope so. If his mother's right, then yes. But Greg was easily led, so I couldn't say either way."

"Well then," she smiled, "we've just found our first official suspect."

Draco stood. "Just be careful. They're not a group you would want to tangle with. They won't get far, but that doesn't make them harmless."

"It's my job. I know what I'm doing."

He looked down at her, curled up on his sofa, freshly healed. "I know."

She stood, folding the blanket. "Thank you for tonight, Draco. I really appreciate it."

"Oh, no problem. Glad I could help." He said with a half-hearted smile as he watched her gather her things.

"Right then."

"You can stay if you want to." He wasn't sure what had possessed him to blurt that out. "I mean, you can stay in a guest room if you don't want to go home."

He immediately regretted it upon seeing how evidently she was taken aback by his offer. He hadn't meant to offend her, or make her think he was trying to take advantage, but he was still concerned about her safety. She had been kidnapped after all. Even if it was only for a few minutes. He turned back to the kitchen.

"Are you sure?" He hadn't expected that response.

"Well. Yes." She looked almost as nervous as he felt. "I'd prefer it if you did. Of course, I would never dream of telling Hermione Granger what to do, but it would be... appropriate, to make sure you're safe and all that. I have no doubts you can handle yourself, but it might be safer with two Aurors in the house. Even if one's only a Consultant."

She smiled.

"The place is fully warded. And you can take either of the guest bedrooms. They're both made up. Both are en suites. Both have double beds. Nice views."

"Thank you. I'd like that."

"I'll show you up."

As they reached the second floor and he showed her where the towels were kept, it struck her that this wasn't at all how she'd expected her night to go. She would never have dreamed that a quiet drink in the pub would have turned into spending in Malfoy's second guest bedroom.

"I'll be two floors up if you need me, I'm in the loft room." He turned to go. "Well. Good night then."

"Good night."

"Oh, you never said." He stopped in the doorway. "What made you apparate here?"

She turned her back on him, arranging her things on the night stand - a poor attempt at hiding her flagrant blush. "Oh. Well. I just suppose I thought I needed to go somewhere safe."

"And that brought you to my door?"

"Apparently so." There was a long pause and Hermione began to think he'd already gone.

"I'm glad." He murmured quietly.

"Me too."

"Night, Granger."

"Good night, Draco."


Hermione was sure she hadn't been asleep too long, but something had woken her.

She quietened her breathing, reaching for her wand as she listened to the sounds of the unfamiliar house. Perhaps she was being paranoid, over-cautious since the attempted kidnapping. Perhaps it had affected her more than she'd realised. Whatever had woken her, she quickly assessed the room she was in and confirmed that she was alone.

Elsewhere in the house then, she surmised and pulled herself out of the unsurprisingly luxurious bed. She padded gently to the bedroom door, keeping quiet in case an intruder was in the hallway.

Footsteps on the stairs immediately sent her into high alert, her fist tightening on her wand and her stance readied for combat. She curled her fingers around the door handle, still listening to the noises.

The footsteps hurried past her door and down to the next floor. She eased the door open marginally for better surveillance now they'd passed her, but not enough to be noticeable in case the intruder wasn't alone.

"Ah, fuck. Bloody owl droppings."

Draco? She identified the voice. About to scold herself for jumping to erroneous conclusions, Hermione headed back to bed. Until she heard the distinct whoosh of the floo, and knew immediately where he'd gone.


A/N: Thank you so much for keeping up with this!

Hope you're enjoying so far - who do you think the murderer is?

/ SimpsonSortia