Author's note : Hey guys. I just wanted to thank all of you for everything. I'm having something of a hard time right now and some days I want to delete everything and just call in quits. But you guys just brighten my day everytime I get a notification that there is a new review or favorite or follow and that somebody is just enjoying my work. You people mean the world to me. I will be uploading on the fourth and if I can manage it, I do have a surprise for you all that same day. Anyways, hope you all are having a good day. Know that you are loved. Enjoy today's chapter.
Chapter 7
"... they… you… the- that room?" Hermione stuttered.
"The dungeon that my family locked up the Lovegood's, Potter, and Weasel? Yes, that one," Draco replied.
She felt herself flinch ever so slightly at Draco referring to her husband as weasel. "I-"
"It was made for me," he groaned as he stood up taking the potion bottle in his hand.
"... made for you?" she whispered in confusion.
"That summer- the one before our sixth year- they built the dungeon. They built it to keep me… safe, as they like to put it, during the summers."
"How long have you been a werewolf?" Hermione asked before clapping her hands over her mouth.
Draco looked just as surprised as herself. She had not meant to be quite so frank and ask the question, but it had just slipped out. It seemed like a lot of questions were slipping out.
"Well… after my father failed to retrieve the prophecy, the Dark Lor- You-Know-Who decided he needed to be taught a lesson. So, You-Know-Who requested Fenrir Greyback to… bestow the curse on myself. I suppose he figured my father might not slip up again if he understood just how dire the consequences might be," Draco explained.
Hermione's eyes widened in horror. "Draco… I'm so sorry-"
"It's alright," he cut her off, "It isn't your fault."
"I'm just… I'm just expressing sympathy…" she explained.
Nodding, Draco stared at the silver potion not daring to make eye contact with her.
"For that long?" she whispered.
"What?" he asked surprised.
"You've been a werewolf for that long?"
"Oh… yes, I have. Professor Snape brewed Wolfsbane for me up until his death so I… managed through my sixth and seventh year of Hogwarts."
"... I was sure that you were stressed out that year because of your assignment to kill Dumbledore… but that wasn't it, was it?"
"N-... no. I was worried and… and stressed about that…" he murmured.
Falling silent, she wondered how far she had overstepped in mentioning Dumbledore.
"... I'm sorry about how I treated you and your friends back at Hogwarts," Draco mumbled setting the potion back down.
"It's in the past-" Hermione began.
"No, no! It's- it's not. I did some horrifically awful things to you, Hermione Granger, and I'm… I'm truly sorry."
"And it's in the past," she reassured as she took both of his shaking hands into her own, "I forgive you."
Slowly, his eyes locked with hers, and she realized just how different of a man he now was. The once confident and arrogant Slytherin prat was now a broken down and damaged wizard, a hollow shell of a person.
Of course, Hermione was happy to see that her former school bully had disappeared, but she empathized for the sad and sickly man that now stood before her.
"... you aren't that person any longer," she pressed.
He shook his head in affirmation. A small smile spread on his thin lips but vanished quickly as if he was unwilling to permit himself even a second of happiness.
"I would hope not…"
"He'd be proud of you-"
Before she could continue, Draco ripped his hands out of her's and backed up like a scared animal. "You shouldn't say that. You don't know anything about the kind of person I am now."
Hermione let her hands fall to her sides and scanned the room around her after looking him up and down. "I know that you keep yourself locked up in this house… that you suffer through torment every week to the point you require draught for calmness and tranquility. But most importantly, I know you just asked for my forgiveness."
As he listened, Draco's face flushed pink, and he shoved his hands deep down into his robes, staring at his feet like a child.
"... it takes a strong man to ask for forgiveness and admit his faults," she finished.
He scoffed quietly, but she could see a rather pleased smile on his downcast face.
"You need to be payed," he said more to the room than to her in particular.
"Draco, that's really unnecessary-"
"Hermione," he interrupted, "it puts my mind at ease when I am able to compensate for your hard work."
She was almost a little surprised to hear him refer to her by her first name. He had used it when he had awoken but that was during a state of shock and momentary gathering of thoughts. However, now he used that name fully aware of himself.
"Then, please just consider paying me a little less than whatever you had in mind?" She pleaded.
"I'll do no such thing." A large smile was now displayed across his gaunt face. He looked much more confident as he stood a little taller than usual.
He walked behind his desk and opened one of the drawers. "I was a little more prepared this time around. Thought I should keep some money in the desk so I didn't have to run across the manor to fetch your galleons."
"Very brilliant of you," Hermione commended with a small laugh.
As he looked up at her, Draco's gaze drifted to her chest, and his smile slowly vanished. "So… what might you be doing with a Weasley shirt?"
Shifting her attention, Hermione looked down at the sweater with the big capital R plastered on it. "Oh! Oh. I wear a lot of tight and formal clothing for my job at the Ministry so I was wanting to wear something a little more comfortable." As she spoke, her face felt more and more hot. She knew she must have gone through several shades of red at this point.
"And the Weasel's shirt was your best option?"
She frowned. "Yes actually. My own sweater was being washed, and I do quite love the material that my mother-in-law knits with so I decided my husband's sweater was the next best thing."
A degree of surprise swept over Draco's face. "Husband?"
"... yes," Hermione replied softly. She had not exactly expected him to be quite so shocked. She had expected Draco to compose himself and perhaps refer to Ron by his own name or at least not by the horrifying nickname of 'Weasel,' but she had not been betting on his bewilderment.
"You married that bloke?" Draco gasped straightening up.
In annoyance, Hermione scrunched up her face. "I would appreciate if you would not call him a bloke."
Draco opened his mouth but quickly closed it as his glare softened. "I suppose you're Mrs. Weasley then, hmm?" He sighed as he sat down in the desk's chair.
"Actually, I'm just Ms. Granger… I didn't really want to give up my last name."
A brief smile passed his face, and he nodded happily before the smile dropped. "Well," he grunted as he set a small pouch on the desk, "Twenty galleons for the Wolfsbane potion, and twenty-one for the draughts."
"Your family will go bankrupt if you keep insisting to pay me at this high of a rate."
"Please. I doubt you'll even make a dent. None of the Malfoy's work. It's a fortune passed down for generations."
Hermione picked up the pouch but then looked up at Draco in surprise. "None of you work?"
"You really think anyone would hire a Malfoy?" Draco spat in disgust. He seemed upset to even bear the name now.
Years ago, he had been so proud, flaunting his last name around as if people might bow down and kiss his feet when they realized his blood status. However, Hermione could now see his utter distaste for the name.
"... I'm sorry," she apologized.
He shrugged. "Our own fault thinking anything good might come from being death eaters."
"But you weren't… neither was your mother…"
"We aided him. We just didn't take the mark."
For some reason, Draco felt colder and almost angrier.
"You've changed a lot since then. You should give yourself some credit," Hermione instructed.
Slowly, Draco rose from his seat. A small smile threatened to stir across his face as his grey eyes twinkled almost happily. "Would you like to stay for tea?"
She shook her head. "I'm afraid not. Ron is making some treacle tart."
Draco nodded. "I do hope it's good."
"So do I. Thank you for the pay. I do hope the potion will work."
"We will see next moon."
Hermione smiled before envisioning her home with Ron and the kitchen which he had been cooking in. In the next moment, she had popped into the kitchen which smelled delightful.
"I hope that's done because I'm starving," she groaned.
