A/N: I know! Two in one day! Neither my BETA nor could control the urge to get this one out there. I'm writing this for me and iwasbotwp. And JuliSt! Thanks for your support, ladies! I love you! iwasbotwp is my unofficial BETA, but she rocks, so she's officially MINE!
Disclaimer: I need a cigarette. If I had a cig, it would be mine- unlike HP.
Chapter 11- Draco Always Says Too Much
After Minerva had told them that the wards had been set at the Manor, and that there was still no word on Le Don, Draco was first to go through the floo. He landed in the living room and moved to the side, watching as Granger came through first, then Potter. Draco watched them collect themselves, ignoring Granger's sideways glances at him, and then motioned silently for them to follow him.
It had been quite a while since he'd been home; he spent his days off with his mum, his nights off in the flats of women who were able to be discreet, or at the school catching up on his brewing. It had been even longer since he'd had the chance to host Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. The last time had been just as ominous as the present, and he spared a glance backward at the two who followed him; the two that death himself decided to follow on what seemed a yearly basis.
He noticed the brown-eyed woman had already been looking at him as his gaze fell to hers. Potter was staring at the paintings, and Draco gave the witch a raised brow, before turning away from her as they reached the second flight of stairs that led to hall leading to the bedrooms. Draco had considered taking the massive master bedroom that his parents had shared, but he was still not ready to face that ghost.
Hogwarts? Sure!
Potter? Why not?
Apologize to Granger?! I'll get right on that!
Sleep in his parents' room while they both still lived and breathed but were prisoners to their own insanity? No.
Draco thought back on the conversation he and Granger had had not even an hour ago, and scowled at himself. He had spent the past two days replaying everything he'd come to learn about the new Granger. She had always been snippy, but now she was downright hostile. Where the "goody-two-shoes" girl once stood, now stood a crass, abrasive woman!
'And what a woman!' Draco pushed the thought away as quickly as he'd had it.
As he made a turn down the hall that held his room and a few empty others, he stopped in the middle of it suddenly and turned to look at them. They hadn't said a word since they'd gotten there, and when he turned they stopped as quickly as he did, as if they'd been watching his every move in their silence. The three of them stood there, looking to one-another, and then Draco cleared his throat before saying,
"These five bedrooms are empty, mine is at the end of the hall, the house elf's name is Mills if you need anything, feel free to show yourselves around the rest of the manor; I'll be in my room." Draco turned and made for his door, no longer able to look at Hermione Granger in her burgundy dress robes. They weren't as tight as that black ones she'd worn days ago, but it did nothing to keep his imagination from wandering!
The dreams had been bad enough! The one he'd had of her being beaten had been too much for him, and luckily it hadn't come back. However, the ones about the bodies had made a reappearance. But now Granger was reanimated, her body no longer a casualty in the stack, wearing her black mourning dress, and standing silently as she watched him. He still walked around the pile of corpses, every time he'd look to her, she'd be staring at him- like her corpse used to, except she was on her feet.
In the dream he'd had the night before, she'd followed him as he'd walked around, staying a meter behind- watching with her deadened stare. He couldn't understand what the hell was going on with his mind! When he'd woken up that morning, starting awake when he once again looked back to meet her eyes, he'd almost gone to the Room of Requirement to make sure she was still there.
He'd squashed the feeling down, deep down, and he had to keep the echoes of the words she'd screamed at Potter by the train from flitting about in his head-for the millionth time!
'I'm a disease! An abomination!' Draco had to shake his head a little to clear the thought.
"Malfoy," Draco turned to look back at them just before he reached for his doorknob. It had been Potter who called after him, and Draco looked at him with a brow raised in inquiry, looking the shorter man up and down. 'Why do I keep doing that?!' Draco had had a long week, and he needed to hide out.
"Yes?" He asked the other wizard.
"Thank you," Potter said plainly. Draco let his eyes flit between the two, taking them in, and then gave a single nod before entering his room and closing the door. He moved quickly to the bathroom, flicked his wrist to turn on the lights with an "incendio", and started inspecting himself in the mirror.
"Merlin's hat! Am I dead?!" he yelled, checking his pulse. He wanted to know what was happening! Within the space of an hour, he'd gotten the bullocks to tell Granger how he felt about himself, and then The Man Who Still Needs New Glasses had thanked him!
He pinched himself to be sure he was awake, before checking his eyes, moving the lids and looking this way and that to make sure he was coherent. Then he checked inside of his mouth, down his throat, noting no signs of impending illness. Then he started taking off his clothes; checking his chest and his back, his arse, legs and feet. He even gave little Draco a quick inspection before considering that he was fine. No lesions or bites of any kind!
After putting his undershorts and trousers back on, he leaned over the sink and looked himself in the eyes.
"This was part of it, Draco. This was part of the deal. You told Minerva that you would be civil, and you are just paying a debt! You owe Minerva a favor, this is the favor; the terms are civility with them. And Potter has to be civil with you! This is real, mate. Adapt!
"Bollocks, this is real!" Draco didn't usually make a habit of talking to himself, but what with his mother and all- apples not falling far from trees and shite- he figured it'd been bound to happen eventually!
"Draco, old boy, pull yourself together! It's Granger and Potter! You have their numbers, mate! Just keep it together, ruffle them up a little, and keep it simple. No more apologies! Potter is shite out of luck! No- I really should say- nope! No! I'm good. Maybe in another lifetime..." He shook his head and closed his eyes, grinding out,
"I'm going mad!"
A knock came from his bedroom door and he jumped, and then sighed knowing he had only one of three choices on who was on the other side of it, and Mills' small fist couldn't have made such a noise.
"If it's Potter," he was still talking to himself, but not in the mirror, "then I can tell him to eat a bowl of shite. It's it Granger- well…" Draco let his mind wander, to his far more pleasant day dreams, of Granger no longer wearing those stifling old robes. His mind showed him images of her without them, and he growled as he attempted to forget them.
He sighed and went to the door, opening it to see Potter, who stood with arms crossed, and that defiant shite look he always had when the two spoke to each other. 'Back to this already, eh? They really do deserve each other! They're both batty! And the Weasel! They should all just go bugger each other!'
"What is it?" Draco asked. He'd been in his room for ten minutes! Draco looked beyond the other man's shoulder and saw that the hallway beyond was empty. He was glad for it; because he wasn't sure he would be able to keep from looking at her.
"I was going to ask if you thought we should take shifts watching out for her. We're supposed to be guarding her- or whatever." Draco looked at the green eyes of the man before him, and matched their severity.
"As long as she stays inside, I don't see why we would need to do that," Draco answered. He really had no intention of actually spending any more time with the woman that day; especially with his mind acting the way it was!
When he'd walked in on her playing piano, and she'd stood to stare him down, he hadn't realized how she would haunt him; not only in his dreams, but during the day as well.
"That's the thing of it. She wants to go outside."
"She's not a pet, Potter. Let her go. I can't control her- she always does what she wants anyway! The only person able to leash that bitch is Minerva." Draco drew his brows together and frowned. Potter rolled his eyes, not in anger, but as if to agree with Draco's words.
"We should both go, Malfoy- just in case Le Douche shows up."
Draco didn't expect what came next, not in the slightest; he laughed, with a loud, genuine, "Ha!" at Potter's joke! The other man looked surprised, and Draco had to rein himself in; clearing his throat and straightening his expression.
"Sure- yeah. I'll- uh- get dressed." Potter's eyes flashed at his bare chest for a second, and Draco smirked. Potter glared at him and turned and walked to the door three doors down on the left. Draco watched him knock, and noted which room was the witch's before he turned to go back to his bathroom. He threw his shirt and shoes on, pulled his hair back with a bit of ribbon, and stepped into the hall.
"You guys don't have to come with me. I just haven't been outside in a few days and I miss it," Granger said as Draco closed the door behind him. He looked to Potter, who looked from him to the witch, before saying,
"No. We'll go with you." She looked between the two of them and nodded, and Draco moved from his spot by the door to lead them to the garden.
When they reached the large glass doors that led to the massive side yard, the three stepped into the late afternoon sun and stopped to take in their surroundings. Draco was none-too-excited, for he'd been bored of the landscaping for some time now. He'd considered changing things, but he was never there enough to care. He still had it managed, but it had become dreary to him over the years.
"I never thought I would be so happy to be sitting in the gardens of this blasted Manor!" The woman's words surprised him, as well as Potter, who looked at her with raised brows and she went down the short stairway and onto the grass. They watched her pause at the nearest bench to take off her shoes and stockings. She was quickly back up and walking towards a set of red rose bushes some meters away. She held out her hand and touched one of the flower's petals.
After looking at the flowers for a minute, she then looked at the large fountain that lay at the back of the yard, in a hedged corner. She began to walk toward it, and the two wizards made after her. Malfoy wondered, as they walked together in silence, if Crabbe and Goyle had ever been curious about what he chose to do as they'd followed him around. He didn't know what she was doing, but she didn't seem to care that the two men were anywhere near her, and Draco had to wonder how much she'd picked up from him.
She didn't look back, something Draco noticed she didn't do too often.
When she reached the fountain, an aquatic rendition of Antonio Canova's "Love's Kiss", she reached down and touched the pool of water, before finally resting on the edge. When the two men got closer to her, Potter sat down on the marble beside her. She didn't look up at him at first, but when she did, she smiled at the dark haired man.
Draco bit the inside of his lip again, wondering if he should have followed the two. It was obvious to him that Potter, being the magnet for psychos that he was, was finding this new Granger as hard to ignore as Draco was. He could understand, having had to deal with days of inappropriate thoughts, but he had the sense to be a prick and not hit on her genuinely. Potter was too readable, too obvious, and the look the other wizard gave the witch proved to Draco that he should back away from the situation as much as he could. 'I need to go back inside.'
But before he could say anything, Potter asked the witch, "Have you thought about food yet?" Draco rolled his eyes.
"Yes, actually. I'm hungry, but I wanted to go outside before sunset," she replied. Draco moved to start walking around the fountain, looking at the marble statue for the billionth time. He'd never know why his mother had persisted on such a thing, though he couldn't deny its grandeur. It was a beautiful piece of art, and Draco looked it over, moving his eyes about- until they landed back on her...
She still had her wild hair braided, but it was off to one side of the back of her head, the length of it trailing down and over her breasts. She was smiling lightly at Harry's inquisition about what they should do for dinner, and Draco decided that he liked it when she smiled. It was a step above her look of cold, uncaring, disdain. He'd seen her disdainful countenance before, but never had he watched her hold it for days. Well- there was that time Weasel dated Brown- that had been pretty similar.
But this was different. She was distant, and secretive, and he hadn't gotten the opportunity to see her smile again until just then, when she'd smiled at Potter. The thought irked him ever-so-slightly, but then he knocked it away. There was no reason as to why she wouldn't be smiling at the bloke like she did, and no reason as to why she wouldn't treat him as she always had.
His mind drifted to their earlier conversation, and he felt himself lull into a moment of deep contemplation. He thought of what she'd said to him, and what he'd admitted to her, and he chided himself inwardly, 'You can't keep your mouth shut, can you? You always have to harass her, don't you? She always ends up with the upper hand!'
He had to admit that harassing her was fun, but if it led to another moment of him being soft on her, he might have to rethink his strategy on interacting with her. 'I need to go back inside.'
Draco knew he'd been in his head, but he hated that he had been when the woman turned to look at him, their eyes clashing, making Draco lose all thought process. The thought of leaving evaporated when she looked up at him from across the water, the flash of light off of the water creating a shadow in its lapping, the dark replication flitting across her face; and he was momentarily reminded of what she'd looked like days ago, when he'd found her, the dark bruises covering her face and neck.
He'd been happy, and then again he really hadn't been, that the first set of dress robes she'd worn had covered her up to just below her chin. It had kept him from noticing the discolorations on her skin, and had allowed him to replace the memory of her bloody and dying, with one of her alive and well.
He hated that he cared, and he tried to blame it on his fatigue; as well as Minerva, then the War, then sex deprivation. He finally landed on blaming her, which he hadn't done yet, and he let himself sneer. It was a good thing, too, because Potter leaned over, around the statue, and gave Draco a glare mixed with confusion. Draco looked at them both and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Are you quite finished, Granger? It's been ten minutes. I think that's long enough," Draco said. They both blinked at him, before Potter said,
"She's not a pet, Malfoy." Scarhead threw his own words back at him, and added, "If she wants to be out here she can be. There's no way that prick knows she's here yet." Draco looked to Granger, who was looking down at the water. She put her hand back into the pool for a second before she stood.
"He will soon," Draco gave a sneer at her words, but not at her. It was at the thought of being able to look this bloke in the eye and tell him, "She's mine to fuck with! Not yours! I've had that claim since I was eleven!"
He'd never get the look of her in the midst of her beaten defeat from his mind, not with a million obliviates! He had claimed that he would be the one to knock her off of her pedestal, though that hadn't been a goal of his in many years. But it didn't matter to him; Le Don was foul, and, as he'd mentioned to the woman earlier, he'd made an attempt at maturity. His childish thoughts of striking a woman when she didn't want it had been below him for years, and he could never understand a man who would do that!
'Well," Draco thought, 'Voldemort would do that.'
Sure, he'd gone a little crazy from his life and his tries at humility; what with facing the Wizengamot, paying restitutions, being socially ousted, mocked, ridiculed and nearly spelled to death. He hadn't retaliated, he hadn't fought it; he took it like a man, ignoring everyone and everything that had wanted him harmed. He didn't consider his actions courageous; he considered it lying in the grave he'd dug with his cowardice. "Biting the curse" as some would call it.
He'd followed Voldemort because he'd been afraid of what would have befallen his family if he'd turned traitor. But mostly, he'd been afraid for his own well-being. He hadn't wanted to admit that to Granger earlier, for he wasn't ready to tell her that. His parents had made their decisions, decisions they'd also made for him, and Draco could have left if he didn't think he was going to be tortured and then Avada'd by the Dark Lord himself. He'd been 16! That was the most horrible thing imaginable to him! He'd let Granger punch him in the face every day for a decade before he'd let that happen!
"How would he know how to do that? Have you told him of the Manor?" Draco looked to her for answers at Potter's question. She sighed and said,
"I shared with him certain aspects of my past, such as Malfoy being my childhood bully, so I doubt he will think to look for me here."
"Then how will he know to look for you here?" Draco asked. He wanted to know this. His house had seen plenty of horror; therefore he wasn't worried about the Manor itself. He'd thought of blowing it to bits on more than one occasion; but he wasn't ready to deal with some crazy wizard coming to his house to kill people. Again!
He had issues with that shite…
Hermione's eyes became hard, and he could the process of her steadying her breathing before answering, "He has his ways- connections and the like. I had the opportunity of meeting his- well- his boss. I think. He's a very powerful man, and he's the one who told me-"she paused, sighed, and closed her eyes as she turned her face up toward the sky.
"Get yourself in pretty deep, eh, Granger?" Draco couldn't help but frown. "If I die fighting because of you, I'm coming back to haunt you."
"Try it, fuck-face! If you die, then it's likely that I will also be dead. But here's the catch; I no longer fear death, so I won't be here as a ghost when you get back. I fear for those around me dying, Malfoy. I want to leave, and put as much space between me and the rest of you as possible! I've been trying to distance you all from this! The less you know the better, don't you understand that? That way, when he finds me again, you won't know where I am, and I won't be anywhere around. He can't hurt you if I'm not here.
"At one time in my life, I would have loved to learn that you'd been killed by Voldemort. Keep it up and I cannot say that I'd be sad if Le Don showed up and finished old Moldy's job for him!" The woman was glaring, and Draco would have acknowledged her joke about the Dark Lord if he wouldn't have been so mad at what she'd said.
"So-," He started, leaning back a little and putting his pointer to his chin in thought, "-this bloke likes to beat women and murder people. Innocent people, is my guess." Draco was starting to put some things together in his mind. In her silence, he continued,
"You'd mentioned that his intentions are "dark", that he's apt to murder; that he's a monster-which is where I've gotten the "killing the innocent" part." Draco watched as her eyes widened a little, and he kept on, "So from there, I think I will guess that you fell for a Dark Wizard with ties into French Blood supremacy." Draco gave a snort at the look of surprise she held at his words, and enjoyed how her eyes got wider in his words' truths.
"Wow, Hermione," Draco sneered, "you really are just book smart, aren't you? Because, obviously, common sense eludes you! Bravo on your catch! Did he like your "tattoo"?"
He threw his own version of the insult she'd thrown at him days prior back in her face; but instantly wished he could retrieve it and shove it back down his throat, because she turned and walked away, and Draco watched her go for a few seconds before sighing, refusing the urge to slouch.
"Fuck," he swore.
"You know, Malfoy," Draco looked to Potter, who was still sitting on the edge of the fountain, staring at him intently with green eyes behind black spectacles, "I bloody hate you for saying that. But then again, I bloody thank you for it." The man stood and started to walk away, and finished, "Just when you think you didn't need Slytherin cunning."
Before going back into the house, he watched as Potter followed Hermione inside, allowing the words he'd just let slip circulate in his mind. He swallowed her reaction, and he growled at himself in frustration.
"Great! I should have just gone back inside!" He kicked the fountain, and flinched, instantly regretting the decision as his toes throbbed. "I always say too much!"
A/N: Now they boys know! Oh, snap! Ok- so- the next chapter Hermione finally gives in and spills the beans. I know I'd give in if the two of them were getting onto me! More fun to come!