Chapter Six.
"Whoa, what a place," Ron declared as he and Harry walked up the long driveway that led to Draco's house.
The pair had arrived at the French Ministry that morning via portkey, and they'd then taken a second portkey to the region of France where Draco lived. Armed with his address, and directions from a local, the pair easily found the large house Draco resided in. The entire house looked to be housed all on one floor, but that didn't stop it from looking spectacular, at least from the outside. Although judging by the beautiful garden at the front of the house, Harry and Ron expected something special inside as well. After all, the Malfoys had never been known for living modestly.
"Why does one man need such a large house?" Harry mused as they approached the door.
"It's Malfoy, Harry, I doubt he knows how to live in modest surroundings," Ron replied.
"Are you ready?" Harry checked as he raised his fist to knock on the door.
Ron took a couple of deep breaths, before he told Harry to knock on the door. Inside his emotions were all over the place as he prepared to face the man that still held Hermione's heart. A big part of him wished he could return home and pretend all this had never happened, but he could never do that to Hermione. For her sake, they had to find out the truth, no matter how painful it was for him.
Less than a minute after Harry knocked on the door, it was opened and the two Aurors were greeted by a house elf wearing what looked like a child's dress. Harry and Ron were both shocked to see Draco employed a free elf, obviously his time with Hermione had changed his views on certain things.
"We're here to see Draco Malfoy," Harry told the elf. "We're Aurors from Britain."
"Come in," The elf squeaked, stepping back and allowing the two men to enter the large entrance hall. "Mr Malfoy will be with you shortly."
"He was expecting us?" Ron asked with a frown.
"He knew we had visitors the second you crossed the property line," The elf replied. "And may I ask your names."
"Harry Potter and Ron Weasley," Harry supplied.
The elf's small eyes widened momentarily, before she smiled at the pair and asked them to follow her. The elf led them into a luxurious, living area, and vowed to be back with refreshments before disappearing with a pop. Left alone, Harry and Ron looked around the living room they'd been settled in. The room was only slightly smaller than Ron's entire flat, and while they could tell everything was expensive and the place looked very elegant, it lacked any sort of personal touch. There wasn't one thing in the room that gave them any hint of what sort of person lived there. If they didn't know it was Draco's home, they never would have been able to guess.
The pair were still looking around the place when the elf reappeared carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. Placing the tray down on the glass coffee table in the centre of the room, she let them know that Draco was on his way before she disappeared again. Deciding they might as well sit down, Harry and Ron settled on the larger of the two sofas. They'd only been sitting a few minutes when they heard movement outside the room and the door to the living room slowly opened.
When Draco entered the room, both men couldn't help but stare at the man they'd thought was dead for the last seven years. Some things about Draco hadn't changed, including his distinctive platinum blond hair, pale complexion and the fact he was immaculately dressed in a pair of dark trousers and a dark blue shirt. However, there was one major difference between the man in front of them and the boy they'd known. Draco now walked with a cane. As he entered the room, it was clear he had an issue with his left leg, and the cane he was using was a necessity, not just a prop as his father's had been.
"Somehow when Pixie mentioned there was two Aurors here to see me, I didn't think it would be you two," Draco commented as he made his way into the room and settled himself on the smaller sofa opposite the two men.
Both Harry and Ron opened their mouths to speak, but neither of them could find the words. Not only had they forgotten to talk about the best way to approach things, but they were totally thrown off by seeing Draco. After thinking he was dead for so long, it was like being in the presence of a ghost.
"Silence? It's not like you two," Draco said. Pulling his wand from his pocket, he summoned himself a cup of tea from the table. "For as long as I've known you, you've always had something to say."
"I guess we're just in shock," Harry finally managed.
Draco frowned at the pair. "Shock? Why, because I can walk?"
"Why would we be shocked about that?" Ron questioned.
"You don't know," Draco said quietly as he studied the pair as if trying to work out if they were being genuine.
"Don't know what?" Harry asked.
"After I woke from my coma, I was given a less than twenty percent chance of ever walking again. For almost two years I couldn't walk at all, and even now I can't walk without my cane."
"We had no idea," Harry said.
"She didn't say?" Draco questioned.
"Who didn't say?" Ron asked with a frown.
"Hermione," Draco answered. For a moment both Harry and Ron saw a look of intense pain flicker over the blond's features, but he quickly pulled himself together and returned to his usual stoic self.
"Hermione didn't know," Harry told the blond.
"She did," Draco snorted. "It was the first thing I found out when I woke up. The other stuff, I discovered after she'd left me."
"Other stuff?" Harry questioned at the same time Ron gave an undignified snort.
"Left you? Is that what you think happened? Hermione, didn't bloody leave you, she thought you were dead."
"What are you on about?" Draco snapped, glaring at Ron.
"This is why we're here," Harry said, jumping in before things got out of hand. "A week after you were admitted to St Mungo's, Hermione went to visit you and was told you'd died in the night. We now know it was the day after you'd been transferred to the clinic in France. But for the last seven years, Hermione, and all of us, have thought you were dead."
Draco shook his head in disbelief. Placing his cup down on the side table beside the sofa, he grabbed his cane and got to his feet. Harry and Ron thought he was going to leave the room, but instead he walked over to the window and stood staring out at the garden. When he spoke, it was clear he'd moved so that neither Harry nor Ron could see how shaken he was by what they were saying.
"Do you think this is funny?" He asked in a quiet voice. "Do you think it's funny to come here and taunt me? Do you not think I've suffered enough? Did you really have to come here and play games with me?"
"We're not playing games," Harry insisted. "Hermione was told you were dead. She's spent the last seven years grieving for you. In fact she still thinks you're dead, we haven't told her what we've discovered yet."
"Don't lie to me," Draco yelled, turning back around and glaring hatefully at the two wizards. "I don't know what you're playing at, but I'm not buying it. Hermione knows I'm not dead, she was there when I awoke from my coma. She walked out on me and broke my heart. So don't come crawling round here, telling me your lies."
"No-one's telling lies," Ron argued, even though he was taken aback by Draco's wild claims. "Trust me, Hermione thinks you're dead."
"Trust me, Hermione left me hours after I'd woken up from my coma," Draco shot back.
"Perhaps we should all calm down and have a serious talk," Harry suggested. His head was spinning as he tried to make sense of everything, and all the shouting wasn't helping. "We know we're telling the truth, but I also think Malfoy's telling the truth as well."
"Harry," Ron scolded, turning to his friend in disgust. "You know Hermione didn't do what he's accusing her of. She never would have walked away from him. She was at home with us, grieving for him."
"I know, and that's why we need to talk," Harry said to his friend, before looking over at Draco. "Please, Malfoy, just hear us out. We'll tell you our story, and you can tell us yours. We can then try and work out what happened."
Draco turned back away from the pair as he nodded his head. "Fine, we can talk. But it won't change anything. I know what happened."
Making his way back over to the sofa, Draco regained his seat and picked his tea back up. Realising it was going cold, he magically reheated it along with the two cups on the table. Thanking Draco, Harry picked up the two cups and handed one over to Ron.
"Since this was your idea, Potter, you can go first," Draco said.
Harry nodded, and checking with Ron it was okay if he told the story, he began to tell Draco what had happened following the battle of Hogwarts. He explained how the blond had been admitted to St Mungo's and how Hermione had visited him every day, sometimes even two or three times a day. He then told Draco about how Hermione had gone to see him one morning, and what she'd been told by the healer. Finally, he mentioned events of the past week and how they'd discovered Draco was still alive.
"And you never questioned what she was told?" Draco asked, raising a sceptical eyebrow at the pair. He wasn't sure if he believed them, even though they seemed genuine enough.
"Why would we?" Ron asked. "You were in a bad way, and the healers had been very clear on the fact you might not make it. We all just thought the worst had happened."
"I still don't get how you can have spent seven years thinking I was dead," Draco said with a confused shake of his head. "All it would take was one word to the right person, and you would find out I was alive."
"Who would we have spoken to?" Harry asked. "Hermione was asked to stay away from the funeral, and none of us were overly surprised by that request. And it's not as if we ran in the same social circles. None of our friends would have known you were alive, and it wasn't as if we saw many of your friends. To be honest, Hermione was the only person in our lives affected by your death. We didn't have any need to mention it to anyone else."
Draco sat for a minute, before accepting what the pair were saying. He could see why they never knew he was alive, providing of course they weren't telling him a pack of lies to mess with his head. He was starting to lean towards the fact they were telling the truth, except for the fact what they were telling him directly contradicted his own memories and what he knew about the months after the final battle.
"So now we've told you our story, why don't you tell us yours," Ron prompted. Unlike Harry, he thought Draco was just spewing out a pack of lies to cover for the fact he'd been complicit in letting Hermione think he was dead.
"I have to admit, the beginning bit is just what I've been told from my family and friends. I was in a coma, so I was hardly aware of what happened," Draco began. "About a week after the battle, my parents moved me to a private clinic in France. I was in a coma for another six weeks after my transfer. My parents and friends visited me, and that includes Hermione. You can speak to any of my friends or my parents, and they'll confirm she came to visit me at least once a week."
"But she didn't," Ron protested. "For weeks after she found out you were dead, she didn't even leave the house. She was in no fit state to travel to France or anywhere, she was a complete mess."
"Ron, let Malfoy finish," Harry said, placing a calming hand on his friend's arm.
"As I was saying, Hermione was among my visitors when I was in the coma," Draco continued as though he'd never been interrupted. "When I woke up, the healers told me it was unlikely I'd ever walk again. They also ran a pile more tests, but none of the results were in when Hermione came to see me. I hadn't even been awake for twenty four hours when she arrived, but I insisted they let her in. She told me she was pleased I was awake and would hopefully be alright. But then she told me that she wouldn't be visiting me again. She told me that she loved me, but she couldn't spend the rest of her life with a cripple. She said her life was back in Britain, and that I should stay in France and forget about her."
"As if Hermione would have ever said that," Ron exploded.
While Ron was losing his temper, Harry was studying Draco closely. When he'd spoke, his voice had been emotionless, but now he was just sitting and Harry could see the pain in his grey eyes. Harry was in no doubt that sitting in front of them was a broken man, who'd likely never recovered from having his heart shattered by the witch he loved. Instinct told Harry that Draco was telling the truth, and everything he'd just told them had happened.
"This just proves it," Ron continued. "He's lying. He knew Hermione thought he was dead, and he was happy to go along with it."
"I don't think so Ron," Harry said gently. "I believe Malfoy."
"You honestly think Hermione said all that to him?" Ron asked in disbelief. "Because if you do, you don't know Hermione very well at all. In fact, if he honestly believes that, he never knew her very well either."
"It's not about knowing Hermione," Harry said. "Put yourself in Malfoy's shoes. If you'd just woken up from a coma, and discovered you may never walk again, then the woman you love arrives and ends things, would you question it? I know I would have been thinking that she would be better off without me."
"Thank you, Potter," Draco said quietly. "That's exactly what I thought. I knew my life would never be the same, and when Hermione left me, part of me thought it was what was best for her. I figured she deserved more than to be stuck with a cripple."
Ron was quiet for several minutes as he digested what Harry and Draco were saying. As he calmed down, he could see they were right. Given the state Draco must have been in, they couldn't blame him for not realising Hermione wouldn't ever act like that. There was no way she would have walked away from him, even if he had been unlikely to walk again.
"I'm sorry for losing my temper," Ron eventually offered. "I'm just struggling to understand all this. If you're telling the truth, and we're telling the truth, then we have a major problem. Someone, somewhere has totally played you and Hermione. Either that or Hermione is a liar, and I refuse to believe that."
"Hermione isn't a liar," Harry insisted. "She thought Malfoy was dead, I know that."
"She really thought I was dead?" Draco asked in a shaky voice. Both Harry and Ron looked at the blond half expecting to see him on the verge of tears, but his shaky voice was the only sign of the turmoil he must be feeling.
"Yes," Harry said softly. "She was devastated. You were her world, and for a long time she could barely function."
"But she moved on," Draco said sadly as he glanced towards Ron. Even though he'd once told Hermione to move on if anything ever happened to him, it was still immensely painful to know that was what she'd done. Although, if he had been dead, he would have been pleased that she'd moved on with her life.
"In a manner of speaking," Ron said with a sigh. "I don't fool myself into thinking I'm the love of her life, because I know I'm not. Yes, I believe she loves me, but it's nothing compared to what she still feels for you."
"So what happens now?" Harry asked.
"I believe that is down to Weasley," Draco replied. "He's Hermione's fiancé, and I think he should make the decision about what happens next. I would like to get to the bottom of this and find out who lied to who and who was tricked. But I won't force my presence in Hermione's life. I'll understand if you want to keep me out of things."
"You don't want her back?" Ron looked at Draco in disbelief.
"More than anything," Draco confessed. "But the choice isn't mine. I won't do anything to hurt Hermione, and since she seems happy with you, I won't interfere."
"As much as I would love to keep this to myself and keep you apart, I can't," Ron said with a long drawn out sigh. "I think we need to tell her everything, and once she's in the loop we can look at everything we know and find out who did this and why."
With Ron's decision made, he and Harry got up to leave. They vowed to be in touch with Draco when they spoke to Hermione, and they promised they would get to the bottom of what had happened. Together they would find out what had happened, and then they could begin the complicated job of sorting out their tangled personal lives.
