Disclaimer: Characters and Harry Potter world are owned solely by JKR. I just own this particular plot.


Chapter 10

Perhaps it was the lateness of the hour messing with her mind alone, or perhaps her guilty conscience taking advantage of her at such ghastly hour, not allowing her a moments rest until it was unburdened, that drove her to commit what a sane person would have deemed a horrible idea and appartate to what could be called the dragon's lair.

Regardless of the reason or her excuse, regardless of the inner workings of her mind or in truth her evil conscience, it was then, at 3 am on what could have possibly been the start of a glorious day that Hermione Granger found herself standing in a small parlor of the Malfoy Manor.

Glorious day, indeed.

Time had always seemed to move too quickly for her liking. Ever since she was a little girl, she had always yearned of being able to freeze time, halt all moments and just enjoy what they brought, without ever having to worry about them ending. Standing in Malfoy's home however, time had seemed to slow down to a lumbering pace and she urged it to speed up.

The order to grant permission to enter each other's residence had been given just that morning and truthfully it was nothing short of typical for Ministry workers, especially in the Auror Department. She had secretly hoped that given the circumstances and the dangers that seemed to be more present at the moment, she would, for once, be excused of this little 'safety and communication procedure.' But all her hopes were crushed when she read the memo that had landed on her desk that morning, shortly before she had gone in search of Malfoy himself.

Had he received his order around that same time as well? He hadn't been in his office at the time… perhaps he got it later? No matter, he had adhered to its demands; her standing safely in the small room confirmed that.

She sighed and folding her arms she began to slowly pace the chamber. She guessed she only had minutes before the heir of the estate showed up, having been alerted to her entrance by the wards. But it was then, as she walked by a well-stocked book that the rush of what she had just done died, and the gravity of what remained dawned on her.

Bloody hell.

Swallowing slowly and looking around the room once more, she felt like she had just woken up from a dream or a nightmare perhaps. One where she voluntarily walked into the lion's den. And for once, it wasn't her den in question.

Yes, she had been nervous before her coming, but she had been more than willing to get the burden off her mind as soon as possible; Hermione had never been one to leave something for a later date after all and the guilt she felt was suffocating as it was. But that combined with the lack of sleep… well perhaps she hadn't been thinking clearly. No, she definitely hadn't been thinking clearly. Who in their right mind would voluntarily go back to the one place on earth where they had been tortured beyond belief in the early hours of the morning, only to apologize?

Not Hermione Granger, surely.

A violent shiver broke through her as she thought once more of what she had hoped to accomplish and what she had just done. She didn't expect his forgiveness, not really anyways, so she didn't much care for that, but she did care for her sanity and her health, and something told her that waking him up at this hour wouldn't contribute to any.

"Bloody brilliant, Hermione. You couldn't just wait, could you?" she whispered to herself as she sank into the surprisingly plush armchair that sat in the furthest corner of the chamber, facing the main door.

She looked at her muggle watch fastened loosely around her wrist and taking in the time, she predicted that she had less than two minutes until he arrived. Oh, and he would arrive, there was no doubt about that. There was no way he was missing this after what happened earlier in the day. She had left him drenched in anger that needed an outlet, and she had just given him that exit.

She should have reported her travel before leaving her home. What if something happened to her? What if Malfoy disposed of her and then her disappearance would be left a mystery forever? And she wasn't even wearing the necklace Blaise had given her! Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Fight or flight where her two options and sitting there, staring at the intricate patterns of the Persian rug that hugged the cold wooden floor, her instincts told her to flee. No, her instincts screamed at her to flee, too run away and burrow in the comforts of her bed, much in the same manner that she had done many years ago whenever a thunderstorm hit and her parents weren't there to soothe her childish fears. Burdened mind be damned, she'd rather live another day.

Fight or flight.

Flight.

It would have been so simple. It would have taken no extra strength to move her wand and disparate from the place. But… it would have been the easiest way out. She would still be faced with the predicament when the sun rose and the cowardice of her actions would follow her for as long as Draco Malfoy lived.

She had done something on impulse, and now she had to pay the consequences.

A Gryffindor to the core…

That's what Terry would have said.

Willing her thoughts to drift away from her current dilemma, she thought of the only thing she could to help her ease her uneasiness.

Her late partner.

It had only been days since the blast and… well, at times she almost forgot that he was gone. She had done well on putting her thought on him aside for the last few days, always making sure that when she did allow herself the pain, she was alone. What surprised her though, was how often she craved to be alone.

One can get addicted to sadness, after all.

Padma crossed her mind then, and little Julian. She hadn't seen them since the night of the blast, since she had held the weeping widow in her arms and soothed away the tremors that she herself tried so hard to contain. She had envied Padma then, envied her for being able to openly show her distress, a wife's distress, a wife's sorrow, while she hid hers away.

Looking solemnly at her trembling hands she leaned on her shoulders and hid her face behind a curtain of shame.

She was selfish; many actions the last couple of days had confirmed that.

Hearing a distant clock chime, she lifted her head from her bent position and paled as she took the silent figure before her.

Draco Malfoy had finally arrived.

She blinked away the surprise and quickly stood up.

How long had he been standing there watching her, she had no idea, but the look on his eyes and the tilt of his head as he leaned on the door frame with his arms gently folded caught her off guard. He was staring at her, openly, which she had in truth seen him do often lately. But this time however, the look in his eyes was different. No longer were his eyes narrowed and calculating, no longer was he mockingly smirking at her when she caught him and no longer was the feeling of dread washing through her. No, his gaze was… lost… sad.

Like a vessel stranded at sea, his eyes took in the loneliness of its occupants with every wave that little by little drifted away the remnants of hope.

"Malfoy"

With a heavy sigh he answered her with a closure of his eyes. The action alone could have been easily confused with an act of weariness, but with a sudden hitch of her voice; she understood. I was crazy to even realize that Malfoy could share those same sentiments; it was bizarre to think that the man even had emotions. But as she stared at him, with his eyes closed and a troubled look marring his fair features, the weight of his feelings blew over her with melancholy ease, helping her relax in empathy.

Heartbreak.

It was preposterous to think that Draco Malfoy indeed had feelings and indeed knew what it felt to have one's heart ripped out of one's chest. Staring at the man before her, she knew she had struck gold at seeing him in such a vulnerable state. A part of her, perhaps her sinister part would have saved that clip for a later time, a later fight and a later win against the Malfoy heir, but a bigger part of her, the better part, immediately recoiled at the thought, sickened by her own evil thoughts. She knew very well what it felt like to be susceptible to other's taunts and insults, she knew if the tables had been turned he would not have been as kind to her. But she couldn't bring herself to exploit his pain, not when hers was so very familiar. So she pushed all thoughts aside, all millions questions that swarmed her mind as to the cause of his aching, and reminded herself that it was none of her business. She had come with one purpose, and analyzing Malfoy's pain was not it.

He was clad in the same trousers he was worn that morning, but the silver shirt that had hugged his torso before was now replaced with a simple white undershirt that did nothing to hide a perfect view of his firm forearms. The guilt she had been feeling before washed over her then with renewed vigor as she allowed her gaze to linger on his folded arms, the mark unconsciously hidden from view.

"Malfoy?"

If he heard her, he made no attempt to answer her and only sighed deeper into his reverie. The atmosphere was fast turning from comfortable to awkward, and soon she wasn't sure if she'd be able to keep her clam around him. Damn it, she should have never aparated to his home. This had to be the dumbest idea she had ever had. Looking around the room once more to distract her gaze she waited for what seemed an eternity for him to acknowledge her presence.

Had she not been loud enough perhaps? Or maybe this was just part of his plan, to make the situation even more uncomfortable for her, but surely he would have spoken by now. But no, that couldn't be. He couldn't possibly be doing that on purpose, not with that sorrowful look on his face. Had she not been able to see his melancholy act as the truth, she would have believed her own thoughts – her paranoia of being purposely made fun of. But what was taking him so long to react? Surely he must know how vulnerable he was acting, how honestly dramatic the whole scene was. Why wasn't he speaking, why?

Maybe this all really was an act.

Or maybe he really hadn't heard her? Maybe she should just leave. Maybe… damn it.

Like a child caught between right and wrong, she wavered briefly before inching closer to him.

"Malf-"

"I heard you the first time, Granger."

As if on cue, he opened his eyes and greeted her with the same calculating expression he had so often saved for her. Whatever previous thoughts and emotions he had been divulging in were fast erased, hidden under a mask of contempt as he stared at her further, his eyes narrowing slightly at her guarded composure.

The seconds that ticked by seemed the loudest Hermione had ever experienced. Everything seemed to come to life, the far away ticking of the hallway clock, the night owls hooting away at the moon, her breathing. She stared openly at him, amazed at how positively rapid his change in demeanor had been. Defense mechanism was all she could describe the change as, and she didn't blame him. He had suffered a moment of vulnerability, brought out by what? She didn't care to know, but she understood his defensiveness that followed. She sighed as she looked at him still. The whole night had been one big mistake. Whatever demons he had to face were his alone. The last thing she wanted was to get involved in his misery, she was miserable enough with her own problems. So, eager to leave the perturbed man behind, she voiced her apology as eloquently as she could.

"Malfoy," she began, taking a cautious step closer to the blonde man. "I wanted to apologize. I-, I'm sorry. I'm sorry about this morning; what I did was completely uncalled for and it should have never happened. " She paused and drove her gaze to linger on his folded arms before lifting them up to meet the grey flames that were his eyes, "I shouldn't have pushed the topic and least of all should I have harmed you."

She swallowed hard as she stared at him, waiting once more for a response. His orbs eyed her carefully and his stance remained as bored as ever. With his head tilted sideways, he gave the impression of a troubled master, examining his complete work of art with a critical eye. Wearing only a thin cardigan over her pale camisole and pants that perhaps hung too tightly to be deemed appropriate for a nightly outing to her partner's home, she wrapped her arms around her torso almost protectively as she waited for an acknowledgement before she left. Any acknowledgment.

"Are you cold?" he suddenly asked, stepping away from the door frame he had been leaning on and entered the room completely, allowing the door to shut gently behind him.

"I… pardon?"

He smirked at her reply and stepping past her he walked towards the only wall in the room that was completely bare.

"I meant to add a fireplace to this room once I got the order to allow you in the Manor." He stared at the wall, measuring the space required for the room's new addition.

"I never thought you'd be seeing this room so soon, however." He twisted around and gave her a puzzling look before turning back around and beginning his work.

Hermione stared dumbstruck at the blonde as he turned away from her and began his remaining work on the room. Had he even heard her? She had just swallowed her pride and apologized to him. To him! And all he did in reply was ask her if she was cold?

With one swing of his wand the wall slowly transformed into a magnificent looking fireplace; the olden styled bricks that formed around the opening gave it a warmer view rather the stiff elegance the rest of the room held. But at the same time, she really couldn't think of any other style that would have complemented the room like the one he chose did. Never would she have thought that simple and luxurious would one day merge perfectly to form such a pleasing chamber.

She stared at him questioningly, surely there was an underlying cause for all of this, why was he acting so… nice? Stepping closer to him just as he lit the fire, she stopped abruptly as she caught sight of his profile. His eyes shone brightly with the reflection of the newly born flames, and expression she would have never expected from him.

"Are you warmer?" he asked after a few minutes of silence, staring at the flames one last time before turning towards her and narrowing his eyes briefly at her thin cardigan before lifting them up to meet her wide brown orbs.

"I… Err… yes, thank you" she replied, not sure what to make of his sudden hospitality.

He smirked. "Don't look so surprised, Granger," he muttered before turning back to the fire and tilting his head sideways once more. "I'm not that big of a monster as you Gryffindors like to think.

"Isn't 3 am a bit too early to be apologizing though?" he sighed, the amusement that shone on his features seconds prior was quickly converted into a look of melancholy, the light of the flames casting shadows on his form made shivers run through her once more.

"Well," she began, "yes, and I'm sorry about that too, I hope I didn't interrupt anything," she said, swaying lightly on her feet, "I probably should have waited until later."

Merlin, this was getting more uncomfortable by the minute. Malfoy was acting largely out of character and it worried her. She needed to leave. Maybe she had intruded in some private moment of his.

He turned to look at her once more, an unfamiliar glint playing on his eyes pushing away the previous gloom his eyes held, "Probably, but waiting is not in your nature, Granger," he smirked, "I would have expected nothing more."

She widened her eyes at his words, an embarrassed flush filling her system. Could she be more predictable?

She stared at him and tried to wrap her mind around this new side of Malfoy that she was experiencing. Yes, the old Malfoy was still there, peeking out every now and then, but for the most part this new part of him, this part that almost seemed to care about someone filled her with a bizarre emotion. She almost felt likeness for this Malfoy. His worry about her warmth was surprising at first, but later it felt pleasant. His acknowledgement of her curious traits should have scared her and made her question any ulterior motives that he may have had, but instead it made her blush at her own faults and his clear understanding of her. Did he understand her better than she understood him? Was she that transparent?

And his worries for her ease in his home. Well that had completely blown her away. She figured she would be given a designated appartition spot, and she hadn't thought much of it before or even once she was in the room. Merlin, if she had actually thought about it before, she would have imagined a pit of hungry crocodiles waiting for her. But his admittance of his concern for her comfort after what she had gone through at his home so many years ago was unbelievable.

Staring at him now, with his shoulders relaxed and his hands resting on his trouser pocket in the most casual of manners, he looked like an open book to her, almost inviting her over to drink of the sincerity that shone on his now crystal blue eyes. He looked… vulnerable.

She knew she was too trusting at times. She knew that to be her biggest fault and it had cost her gravely on more than just a few occasions. But somehow she never seemed to learn. She often blamed it on curiosity, her need to learn more and more about any subject or person. Malfoy's new demeanor had awoken a part of her she hadn't used since the war had ended, and it worried her. Malfoy, mean or nice was bad news regardless.

"You look tired, Granger," he said, shaking her out of her thoughts, "you should go back home."

His final words broke her nerve and without realizing it she stepped closer to him, as if moving closer would break the enchantment he was certainly in. This couldn't be Malfoy. Siren bells rang in her head, but she ignored them as she slowly approached him, curiosity once more taking over her senses.

He watched her approach with a pensive stare and somehow knew he had to get her out of his home before he broke. The night had already taunted him enough.

He reached out his left arm to halt her coming, his fingers stopping short of making contact with her delicate shoulders.

She stopped then and stared at him questioningly; his face had lost all color that the fire had brought.

"You really need to leave, Granger." The whisper was barely audible. He kept his arm lifted, as if measuring the space that separated their two bodies. "I am not in the right state of mind, and I do not wish to make this situation harder for both of us."

She tilted her head and furrowed her brows in question.

The remnants of liqueur that swam through his veins blurred his vision briefly and lifting his exposed arm to his eyes he closed his orbs to try to get some sense back into himself and stop what he had unconsciously dreamed of for too long.

A small gasp stopped him however and opening his eyes slowly he saw her looking worriedly at his bare forearm.

Damn it, he had forgotten all about the mark.

Caught between wanting to leave the room and yearning to remain by her side, he froze and waited for her rebut of his previous life, of his wrong choices.

"Malfoy," she said, a strange look passing through her eyes as she lifted her gaze from his arm to his face, "you need to get this looked at," and without any warning she reached over and gently brought his arm down to hers, caressing his skin cautiously with the tips of her fingers as she inspected his pain.

She didn't know what she was doing, she didn't realize her grasp on his arm before it was too late. But somehow, staring at Malfoy, and taking in the injured expression on his face, she thought back to the last time she had set foot on his home, to the last time she had seen him before the final battle and to the first time that she had seen a change in him, a change she had very much tried to ignore.

Grasping her wand tightly, she conjured up a mint breeze of air to wash upon his scalding arm, a cooling charm to ease the smarting and the slithering of the viper.

Staring at the now still snake curled up around the mark, a pang of guilt hit her again and forgetting herself she caressed his arm once more, tracing the contour of the mark and cleaning up the dried up blood with the sleeves of her cardigan.

Malfoy was a bastard, she had always known that, but she never questioned what brought him to become what he was today. The childish banters that they used to share at school had always infuriated her beyond belief and they still did today, but suddenly a moment of clarity and companionship hit her square in the chest and lifting up her gaze to the tall blonde, she wondered what terrible things he had experiences to shape the man that stood in front of her.

As a child she would have explained his character as that of a spoiled brat, always wanting more and never ceasing to degrade others, but now, with all that she had lived and all that she had learned about him, she saw the charade as a way to cope and retain perhaps the innocence that childhood brought, before darker matters became more important than flying brooms.

They had all been forced to grow up rather fast, Harry most of all, but she had never thought what the strain of the war did to the other side.

As she looked at his confused eyes and the vulnerability of his gaze returned and dug deeper within her. She felt her heart constrict again for all who had suffered the wrath of a crazed wizard. There really was no black or white, they all came out damaged.

"Malfoy, I-" she began before being cut off by him pulling his arm away from her hold.

"Don't" he said, stepping back from her, a darkness marring his features that had been absent before.

"You need to leave, Granger" he breathed, "now."


What had transpired after his last words had been nothing short of expected. Whatever enchantment Malfoy had been under he had quickly woken up and returned to his normal disagreeable self. Sitting on her Ministry desk some hours later, Hermione couldn't help but cringe at the memory of the whole affair.

She didn't blame him for the coldness that washed over him as soon as he informed her of her departure. She now understood Malfoy; he was like a wild animal, one moment he could have been perfectly domesticated, but the next, he reveresed back to his natural wild ways. Still, his character baffled her to no end. She had always thought of him as terribly predictable, but her visit to his home had proven her wrong.

Something had definitely occurred prior to her arrival, and whatever it was, she was certain it didn't merit just once shot of celebratory Firewhiskey. She had most certainly smelled the alcohol on him as soon as he whispered the first few words that ended their little encounter, she had after all been close enough to see the silver shine of his mysterious eyes. But judging by the uttermost look of despair on him when he entered the room, well, if his actions didn't scream "emotional drunk" then she didn't know what did.

She shook her head softly; closing her eyes tightly and feeling that ever annoying sensation of embarrassment tickle her once more. Shaking her head a second time, she leaned back on her office chair and stared at the ceiling. She needed to stop thinking about this.

Even back up topics needed a replacement.

She had been trying hard to keep calm that morning knowing very well that Terry's ashes would be set at their final resting place that morning. And every thought, as minor as it could have been about anything related to that subject brought stubborn tears to her eyes. So she had opted to think of something else, and Malfoy had been the only topic she could fall into.

But now she needed another escape.

As if on cue, a hesitant tap sounded on her door. With a wave of her hand it opened, revealing a tired Harry. He grinned sheepishly at her.

"Morning, Hermione"

She smiled at him in return. "Hello, Harry"

So it was time, then. She had asked him to come fetch her before the aurors left to give their final farewell to their fallen coworkers. The only reason being, apart from Harry being her closest friend, was that she wasn't sure she'd have the courage to face this particular death without any one with her. It would have been far too easy for her to come up with an excuse to miss the burial and she wasn't sure if she'd regret that hours or even years later.

"Ready?" Harry asked her, his green eyes filling with understanding.

She nodded her answer and grabbing her cloak, her bag and his arm, she walked out with him.


Ginny Weasley was not partial to visitors; she had always been overly sensitive to their coming and only truly allowed a selected few in her hospital room. But this particular guest stirred her curiosity when announced, and faking a wave of sleeplessness she let him in. She knew they wouldn't be disturbed, after all, the funeral services were taking place and she was positive the only two people she would permit to see her at that moment, Harry and Hermione, where there that very instance.

So she sat up straighter on her bed and masking her eager face with an angry expression, she narrowed her eyes as the Malfoy heir strode into her room with the same superiority he carried himself with seven years ago.

"Weasley" he greeted as he entered, closing the door behind him before surveying the room briefly and finally taking in the beaten girl on the bed.

"Ferret," she responded, not taking his eyes off him as he surveyed her briefly, before walking towards the far right wall and shutting the curtains with a snap of his fingers. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" she mocked.

He smirked at her tone but kept his eyes fixed on her night stand, where a simple portrait of four figures stared at him curiously.

"You'd be surprised," He answered, staring at the brunette in the portrait and smirking when the figure narrowed her chocolate eyes at him and hid her face behind her curtain of wild locks.

Stealing a glance back at the fiery red head, he produced an envelope out of thin air and tossed it to her ever so carelessly, taking great pleasure in seeing the hint of apprehension in the young girls eyes.

"A get well card? Really, Malfoy, you shouldn't have," she sneered and reaching for the card, tossed it back to him. Unfortunately it recoiled from its trajectory and landed firmly on her lap. She glared at him in question.

"This was delivered to me late last night, anonymously of course," he started, dropping his arms from their folded position and placing them in his trouser pockets. "I think you'll find its contents…" he paused, looking down at the card briefly before raising his gaze back to her, "…amusing."

She narrowed her eyes at him once more before cautiously reaching over to the card. Her hand stopped a few centimeters from it however and glancing at Malfoy once more, she lunged to her right to retrieve her Hazel wand. The wand, sensitive as ever, absorbed her cautious energy and matched it with fervor as it searched the card for any form of danger.

To her left, out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Malfoy grin. He didn't comment on her actions however.

Keeping Malfoy on her peripheral view, she pulled the letter from the envelope. Years of being an auror had taught her to pay attention to every miniscule detail available, and looking at the closed letter clasped firmly in her hands, she studied the parchment material briefly but accurately. It was the softest material she had ever felt, the paper sliding smoothly through her fingers very much unlike the work parchment that filled her flat and the auror department, she couldn't recall its make, but surely Hermione would be able to help her with that. Its smell and texture screamed of expense and luxury without having to utter a single syllable.

She didn't expect pleasantries from this document and marring her features in a bored expression to ready herself to the news it brought, she opened her letter and read.