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Chapter Six
Granger's living room was terribly unimpressive, if only for the fact that it was dreadfully predictable. Almost all of the walls were covered in bookshelves, housing hundreds of think tomes, all incredibly dust free, probably thanks to Granger's obsessive nature. There was a small desk in the corner, with neatly piled stacks, which also appeared to be color coordinated. On the walls hung numerous pictures, mostly of her and the wonder twins, however, some were of an aging couple, who I assumed were her parents, and others of a small child who I didn't recognize. I would have been more impressed with the whole display if any of them had been moving. But of course, true to her muggle nature, all of the pictures remained stationary, making them increasingly boring to look at. It was as if nothing had changed. This may as well have been the living room of a teenaged Hermione Granger; for the only difference is that the faces in the pictures had aged.
As I gazed at the photos, a particular one caught my attention. It stood out from the rest, seeing as it was the only photograph that appeared to be formally taken. Ginny Weasley stood smiling in a flowing white gown, clutching onto the arm of Harry Potter, who looked as if he had just single handedly won the Quidditch World Cup. He was of little importance, however, because it was she who I was concerned about. I let my eyes scan over her face and down her body. She is attractive, I supposed. Her eyes had a certain glint to them that, even here in a picture where she was smiling, suggested deviance. I bet she was terrific in the sack, playing her nice girl act during the day, while having a complete tramp within. It was no doubt that my soul believed we belong together. But, even as I stood examining every bit of her appearance, I couldn't feel anything. Hermione's words still hit me as odd. How could I be so attached one moment, and then impartial the next?
I considered closely examining a picture of Granger in the same way, as a means to test my hypothesis, but decided against it. I was certain that I was not ready for what that exercise was bound to produce. Because, while the idea of being attached to Weasley now seemed like a foreign concept, being attached to Granger was a very immediate reality. It wasn't something that I had to be told anymore, but something I felt. Even now, as she was rumbling around in the kitchen, I could feel her nervousness swell in my own chest. I could feel the invisible strings that try to pull me to her when she is away, or even when she is close. It was strangely comforting, and all too dangerous to linger on at the moment.
My thoughts were interrupted by Granger, who had finally returned, balancing two cups of coffee in her hands. I moved back to the couch and took a seat, accepting my cup with a silent nod. She took a seat in the loveseat on the other side of the table, and for a moment, we both sat in silence, sipping our coffee. The silence was overwhelming, and in such an unfamiliar environment, I began to feel a sense of claustrophia. Coming into this apartment had already given her the upper hand of being in a familiar space, and now, sitting here feeling uncomfortable, I felt as if she was gaining more power with every second I let myself be vulnerable.
"Who's the kid?" My voice appeared calm, and nonchalant. I could sense that she was already nervous, and making her think that I am anything but was sure to put her further on edge.
"Ummm…" she stammered, glancing up at the portraits in question. The very subject had obviously thrown her for a loop, and the sudden position of power I suddenly felt myself in made me feel much more at ease. "Teddy Lupin, son of Remus and Nymphdora Lupin. They both died during the war, so now he lives with his grandmother Andromeda. Harry and I both try to spend as much time as possible with him, seeing as Dromeda is elderly and we both know how it feels to be orphaned." She paused momentarily, probably to contemplate what she had just said. The more time I spent time with Hermione Granger, her nervous habits had become evident, the primary of which was ranting. It was her way of using all the knowledge in that giant brain of hers to distract and disengage her opponent. It would have been clever if it had been intentional. When it became obvious that I was not going to respond to any of the information just presenting she continued. "He has a bedroom set up in my spare room here, which will have to be converted once you move in."
That had caught my attention. It was the most absurd statement I had ever heard, but it had passed so easily through her lips, that it almost seemed like an everyday conversational piece. I mustered up a sneer, and responded incredulously, "And why would I do that?"
It was now her turn to look at me with skepticism, mixed with a trace of irritation. For a moment I prided myself in producing such irritation, that schoolyard pride rising up within in. There was something about getting under Granger's skin that satisfied me like nothing else. Maybe it was the shaking of that holier than though attitude that gave me an acute sense of pleasure, or the fact that her face looked particularly unattractive when it was all scrunched up in irritation, but either way, it was a past time I wasn't going to give up anytime soon. I let myself bask in my victory until Granger's face fell from its state of disbelief into a small smile. After a roll of her eyes, she no longer looked at me with irritation, but rather condescension, like I was a child who had just asked a particularly ridiculous question. It struck me that this was probably how she looked at Potter and Weasley, God knew they could be idiots. That thought made my heart race, for some reason.
"Malfoy, what do you think would happen if I were to leave right now?" She asked, as if presenting a problem to a small child. Anger began boiling under my skin. Who did she think she was, speaking to a Malfoy in such a manner? My plan to gain the upper hand was completely lost, defeated by the slow and steady desire to strangle the woman who was sitting in front of me.
"I don't know, Granger, maybe I would finally be able to get a moment of peace without your incessant jabbering." My statement was meant to harm, and yet it only produce another roll of the eyes.
"The key statement there was 'I don't know.' There are a million things we don't know about this bond, and until we figure them out, it would be much more reasonable to stay in a close proximity."
"That's not what I meant." I spoke slowly and clearly, imitating the voice she had mocked me with. "I understand that there is now a… need for us to be in close quarters, however, why must I be subjected to life in your miniscule apartment when I have the option of staying at the manor?" I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. It was not because I felt sympathy for Granger, or spared any expense on her feelings, but rather, the moment I mentioned the manor a sharp pain erupted from my left arm, right above the spot where the dark mark used to lay. I looked over at Granger, who was also clutching her arm, but she did not appear to be in pain, but instead looked horrified.
"I won't." Her voice was soft yet determined. My arm continued to radiate pain, but it lessened significantly at her voice.
"Granger, what is going on?" I asked, genuinely. It took her a moment to register to what I was referring to, but the moment she saw where my hand was placed her face lit up in shock. The pain immediately dissipated. "What in the hell was that?" Her brain looked like it was moving a mile a minute, her face scrunched up in concentration. It might have found it endearing if it had not been for the intense pain I had just been in.
"Your statement about the Manor elicited an emotional response out of me, and it must have triggered something in you." She spoke, probably more to herself than to me. She paused, her face frozen in a worried expression. She spared me a concerned glance before continuing on. "I associate the manor with the war, and a certain event which transpired during it." Again, she paused, momentarily letting the meaning of her words wash over both of us. I wasn't stupid. That day rings just as vividly in my mind as I'm sure it does hers. "Just now when I reflected on that moment, you felt that pain that I was reliving. It's all very fascinating really. I wonder which side of you responded, your veela or the bond? Oh! I have to take notes!" Any hint of what had just transpired was now replaced by with her ever growing need to acquire more knowledge. She hopped up from her chair and practically ran into the kitchen, presumably to grab the notes she had already gathered on their case, and to add this interesting tidbit.
"Harry! Ron! How did you get in here?" Her scream emanated from the kitchen, and I was immediately on my feet, but I urged them not to move forward. This was not the time to start being irrational. I used what little control I had left, I held firm, not letting my senses make me go lagging after Granger like a lost puppy.
And then that same sense of control began to slip, being replaced with something else entirely. It was a small feeling that crept up slowly, but soon sent an entire wave of fire through my body, until I could not stand it anymore and was on my feet. But it was not my brain that made my feet move forward, but some instinctual urge that drove me to put one foot in front of the other and find the source of this anguish. The closest thing I could compare it to is being under the imperius curse, but still even that paled in comparison. This was need and want twisted together. And then I was in front of Granger, and I was growling.
During a war, you learn to react first and think later. This has to do with a person's natural fight or flight instinct. It's that immediate jump to either run away from a situation, or face it head on. After encountering multiple confrontations, it just became natural for Harry, Ron, and I to fight. For some time, in the period when the war had escalated to its highest junction, flight was no longer an option. Even after the war, this instinct still lay firmly engrained in all of us, therefore it was not surprising that we all entered fields that involved intense on the spot decision making. We were bred for action. However, when Malfoy stood protectively over me, all thoughts of action were replaced by those of confusion. A sharp call of "Malfoy?!" escaped Ron's lips. They took in Malfoy's appearance, and instead of developing a defensive stance, took a step back in fear. Malfoy had unwittingly confused and conquered two of the strongest aurors at the ministry, leaving them almost completely vulnerable to an attack from an angry Veela.
Before Malfoy could move any closer, I grabbed onto his arm, fiercely attempting to pull him back. It could almost be seen as comical. Within the course of a few moments I had gone from pushing my two best friends away to trying to pull a supposed enemy closer. My attempts weren't rebuffed, but they were hardly acknowledged, along with my cries for him to stop. He was much stronger than me, and quite angry, having lost all sense of logic and reason.
"You hurt her!" His voice was low, probably a few octaves lower than his usual speaking voice. It seemed to snap Harry out of her fearful trance, and he attempted to make a step forward, only to immediately retreat after Malfoy let out another feral growl. He took a step closer to the two men, all the while resisting my attempts to pull him away. If I could not get the situation under control quickly, thing would soon escalate to a dangerous level. Harry and Ron may have been aurors, but Malfoy was now much stronger than them, and had an urge to protect me that would supersede any hesitation to harm or even kill another being. So, I changed my tactics. Within a moment, my arms wrapped around Malfoy's middle, my hands resting lightly on his chest. I stood on my tiptoes, in order to reach his ears.
"Draco, listen to me, please. They did not hurt me. I tripped. I'm fine. Listen to me. Listen to my voice. No harm has come to me here. You have protected me. Calm down, and turn around and look at me."
It felt like an eternity, standing there, holding him, willing his heart beat to go down, and to return to the sneering controlled Malfoy that I knew. And then, slowly, I felt him began to shift, turning in my arms. The movement was startling, and I almost removed myself from him, but stopped myself before I could make that mistake. His body pressed into mine intimately, and while I could not classify it as unpleasant, it certainly did not help relieve my tension. His arms slipped around me, and began lightly working their way over my body, checking for any possible injuries. Harry and Ron would have no doubt been protesting, if not for their fear of reproach. Malfoy's eyes, now black, flitted around my face, and finally, both his hands and sight came to rest on my elbow.
"You see. I'm fine." His eyes shot back up to look at mine, and a breath caught in my throat. It was an odd reaction, and yet, so natural in our current state. His face was hard, but it seemed, the moment his eyes met mine, he softened. It was the way you would want to be looked at by a lover. It was a mix of utter admiration and affection, and a weight pooled at the bottom of my stomach. But I knew it wasn't real. Nothing about Draco in this state could be real. "Come on Malfoy, come back to me. Just calm down, and regain control."
His eyes turned slowly back to grey, and his body tensed almost immediately. And relief, along with a touch of disappointment, ran through me.
They had been talking for half an hour, Harry and Malfoy, hauled up in Teddy's bedroom. It was ridiculous, and more than that, utterly frustrating. After Malfoy had calmed down, and I was able to explain our situation to the boys, something that I was hoping to do at a much later date, after we had more details figured out. The boys don't do well with loose ends, especially when in came to my life, and they often felt like they knew best. I was hoping to tell them after I already had a plan in motion, at a time when Malfoy and I were better equipped to deal with this. But there own foolish protective manner ruined that plan, and I was forced to explain, without much detail, how I had tethered myself, forever, to Malfoy.
This proclamation was met with silence, and then, after a short period of question asking (where many of the questions were far to obvious) Harry had asked to speak with Malfoy alone. He had insisted Ron stay back with me to, 'keep an eye on me' which only proved to irritate me more. It was not Harry's job to be my protector, nor act as a father figure, threatening Malfoy with the cause of my protection. I sighed once more, stirring the tea restlessly. Ron shot me an irritated look, to which I only responded with a roll of my eyes.
"You know there's no need to pout. I wasn't invited to their little pow wow either." His said, his face scrunched up in irritation.
"Well, maybe if you had insisted against it more vehemently you would be joining them."
"The same thing can be said about you, now can't it."
"That's not fair. I protested, you on the other hand just whined and stomped your feet like a child, which is hardly expected to be efficient."
This time it was Ron's turn to sigh, as he leaned into his hands in frustration. It had always been like that between Ron and I, tug and pull. Before the war it had been a common occurrence, and in our time in the tent, it was almost constant. It was how we communicated between each other. Extremes were the only means by which we could understand each other, unfortunately, those often to form in the shape of extreme anger or sadness. It had worked for us for a while, but the instability soon became to much and I ended it. And after distancing myself for so long, our communication had been strained. While I still remained close with Harry and Ginny, Ron and I no longer had a connection strong enough that it could survive a screaming match, which left our only means of communication completely severed. We still bickered, but it never escalated to the point that it used to, and I'd found, that because of that, our friendship could probably never be fully recovered.
"What could they possibly be talking about? A through threatening could not possibly take that long, and Harry cannot possibly be that descriptive.
It had been several hours since Potter and Weasley had left, and I found myself tossing in my bed. We had taken the time to Transfigure some of the things from the Lupin child's room into furniture, which fit my needs, while we would figure out another way to move my things in fully later. The memory of how my arm had throbbed still burned fresh in my mind, and I wasn't quick for an encore, and while it pained me to sleep in a room that had sailboats painted on the walls and still contained several bins full of toys, I couldn't bring myself to mention the manor again.
I tried for hours to sleep, tossing and turning, switching positions in a veiled attempt of relief. But, as I lay in bed, it wasn't want for my own bed that kept me awake, but rather an all to familiar itching. It started out in my toes and slowly moved upwards until my whole body was pulsing. It was painful, as if my nerves had been stripped bare, and I had no means of relief. I fought against it, with every shred of pride I had left, until finally, it became to much, and I found myself on my feet.
Granger was lying motionless in her bed, but it was obvious by her breathing that she was not sleeping either. The itching only increased at the sight of her, but my feet remained planted firmly in the doorway. I am human. It was something I kept having to remind myself of. I couldn't let these urges control me. For every time I slipped, every time I let myself go for just a moment, I lost a shred of that humanity. So wrapped up in my thoughts, I unconsciously took a step forward, my foot treading lightly on the wood floor.
Granger's eyes flew open instantaneously, and her body physically tensed, causing the burning under my skin to increase, if it was possible, even more. As she sat up, she relaxed slightly with the knowledge that it was only me in her bedroom, yet my itching did not decrease.
"I know this isn't working." She stated clearly, no hint of sleep clouding her voice. That gave me slight comfort, knowing that, if I had to suffer, she did as well. "We've been apart for to long." It was clear what we both were thinking, but neither of us could find the nerve to say it, as if we were fighting a silent battle. Neither of our prides would be the first to admit weakness. Finally, she sighed, her signal for defeat. "Will you just…"
"I don't…" I found the words being choked from my lips. My voice was hoarse, as if the itching had somehow found a way to my vocal chords. My body yearned to stride forward, towards the request that she was willing asking. But I couldn't. I'm still human. I'm still human. "I don't want to."
"Malfoy, from this moment on, it's not going to be about what we want anymore, but what we need. And the reality is that we'll need each other, whether that's something you chose to accept right now. So honestly, at this current moment, I don't care what you want, all I want is to sleep. So please just get in the bed."
I didn't have to be told twice.