Disclaimer: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

Beta Love: Fluffpanda

Warning: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

A/N: I actually caught up on writing this week (a bit) so as a thank you for your continued support, I thought I'd put this chapter up a day early.

Q&As - A lot of you questioned why Narcissa couldn't pick somewhere else to spend Christmas, but I wanted to remind everyone that Narcissa and Lucius are both still under house arrest. Guest, my Snape varies a bit. Alan Rickman is just . . . Mmm . . . but also too old for the Snape in my head so it kind of is this weird mashup of Adrien Brody (because nose and hair) and Benedict Cumberbatch (because voice). buttercup88, Tonks and Remus never got together in this story (no real reason . . . yet) but Tonks survived the war and likely returned to active Auror duty.


Presque Toujours Pur

Almost Always Pure

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Volitans


December 1998

Hermione had left the Great Hall, anger boiling her blood as she tried to wonder what on earth Narcissa Malfoy could have been thinking, inviting her back to the Manor . . . for Christmas! Her hands shook as she paced through the corridors, aimlessly wandering in the shadows, imagining the look on Lucius Malfoy's face as though it were his suggestion. Yes, Cissy, bring the girl back to the place where your sister tortured her, broke into her magical core, shattering a decade-long glamour, and then carved a slur into her flesh. Let's set the Christmas tree right over the spot on the floor where the little former Mudblood bled, that should cover up the stain. Perhaps we should put up a new chandelier as well.

Her body shook with anger and she hadn't even noticed the tears streaming down her face as she made her way to the quarters that her uncle shared with Remus. She hesitantly knocked on the door and felt relieved when Remus, and not Sirius, opened to greet her.

"Hermione . . . what's wrong?" he asked immediately, beckoning the witch inside. "Sirius isn't here," he said. "Do you want me to —"

"No," she said quickly and then glanced across the room to Sirius's bed where, stacked neatly on his bedside table were her father's diaries. "I just . . . I . . ." A warm hand touched her shoulder and she sagged in relief as she felt seconds away from breaking. "I thought I was doing so well," she admitted quietly. "It doesn't bother me much, you know. What happened with Bellatrix. I don't . . . I don't have nightmares anymore and I don't flinch at the mention of her name or . . . but . . ." she frowned. "They want me to go back."

Remus frowned and took a seat, pulling a chair out for her as well as he reached for the teapot that sat in the center of the table where he'd apparently been glancing over lesson plans, second years from the looks of it, and summoned a second cup from a nearby cupboard, pouring her some tea. "Who wants you to go where?" he asked.

She sat down and gratefully reached for the cup, but did not take a sip. "Draco's parents. They've invited me to the Manor. For Christmas."

The werewolf's eyes widened and his brows raised. "Are you sure you don't want me to go find Sirius?" he asked nervously.

She shook her head. "If he sees me like this and finds out why . . . he'll end up back in Azkaban."

Remus snorted. "He's got a bit more control than that, I think," he pointed out with a soft smile. "Not much, but it's there. What does Draco say about this?"

She shrugged. "I don't know I . . . I screamed and then stormed out of the Great Hall. I needed . . ." she started to say and then confusion took hold of her as she ran her thumb over the edge of the teacup where a small chip was, letting the sharp edge dig a bit into her skin. "I don't know what I need," she said, and her gaze flickered once again to the stack of diaries on Sirius's table.

Remus smiled sadly. "You need your father."

She looked up, surprised. "What? No."

"Hermione, it's okay," he said. "Do you know how much Harry depends on Sirius?" the werewolf asked. "He's here nearly every night. Whenever anything new happens in his life, he's here telling Sirius. Asking for advice, venting frustrations . . . he never had a chance to know his parents, and then the Dursleys were —"

"Miserable sods," Hermione mumbled bitterly and Remus laughed which only caused her to blush at her words. "Sorry," she said.

He shook his head and smiled. "No, they were. But now, Harry has Sirius and, despite being a man grown himself, he seeks out the only parental figure he has left. We never really grow out of needing our parents. Needing our family."

"I had parents," Hermione mumbled. "I'm different. I'm not like . . . Harry grew up with —"

"You had wonderful parents," he said with a sad smile. "And you will always remember them. But you also never had a chance to know your biological parents. Parents who understood magic and the problems that come with our world. Parents who knew Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy and would have had advice to offer in your current circumstance," he said. "It's not a slight against your Muggle family to want your magical one."

Hermione frowned. "It feels silly. He's not alive and yet . . ." she said, once again looking over at the diaries. "How can you miss someone you've never met?" she asked.

Remus frowned. "You did meet him. You just don't remember."

"I want to remember," she admitted quietly and then finally took a sip of the tea, grimacing when she did. "Oh, Remus, this is just . . . just awful," she said with a laugh as she actually chewed on the grains of sugar in the back of her mouth. "Thank you."

The werewolf smiled and nodded. "Take them," he said. "I know for a fact Sirius is done reading those and they rightly belong to you."

oOoOoOo

Back in the comfort of her dorm room, Hermione set down the stack of leather-bound journals on her trunk and began flipping through them at random, searching for a specific entry. When she finally found it, she smiled and brought the book to her bed, laying back and breathing in the scent of decades old parchment. She sneezed when a black feather fell out of the pages, tickling her nose and she picked it up off the bed and smiled and made a mental note to pick up something for her owl the next time she was in Hogsmeade to maybe help with his grooming. Setting her feather-bookmark aside, she looked down at the pages and let the slanted black ink draw her in.

July 15th, 1978

I'd never been so afraid in all my life. The summons to meet the Dark Lord felt like a death sentence and it took everything in my power to keep up my Occlumency shields while Severus Apparated us to the gates of Malfoy Manor. The mansion is large and imposing and, like the Malfoys themselves, reeks of old money. I imagine the Manor had once been a beautiful place, perhaps filled with the sounds of parties and laughter, clinking glasses of champagne and a string quartet in the corner for a holiday ball. The only sounds I remember, other than the heavy beat of my own heart echoing in my ears, was the gentle rattle of china as Narcissa poured tea for the Dark Lord, sitting in the drawing room in a simple chair as though it were a throne.

He spoke to Severus first, asking about Evans. It unnerves me to know that the man is aware of Severus's affections for the Muggle-born. I could tell he was trying to provoke him. Trying to poke a sleeping bear in the hopes it would awaken and attempt to defend the honour of his lady love. Severus wasn't stupid enough to do such a thing, of course, but I still willingly put myself in the path between friend and . . . I don't rightly know what the Dark Lord is. But I stood there, all of sixteen years old and waxed poetic about indoctrinating purebloods and blood-traitors and using Muggle-borns as servants as though they were house-elves. I was witty and charming and all I could wonder is whether or not my lies were believed and, if they weren't, would he kill me himself and did dying hurt as bad as I thought it would. Knew it would.

And then . . . then the Muggles. Those girls. Gods . . . I didn't want to. Severus tried to take the task for me, to spare me, but they found a way around it. I try to tell myself that killing them was a mercy, even as I wondered if the Dark Lord kept more Muggles stashed away in the cellar of the Manor and that these two had been spared the torture others would inflict upon them; given to Severus and I to dispose of painlessly. Still, I let the Dark Mark brand itself into my skin and I wept and sobbed through the pain . . . gods the pain was . . . and I let myself feel every bit of it thinking that it was well deserved. Punishment for what I'd done. What I felt I had to do.

I had to do it.

When we Disapparated away . . . I never want to go back there. That place, that Manor, is a building of death and darkness and how many others had been killed there? Tortured there? Blood and sweat and tears — my tears — stain the floors. I never want to go back. I have to go back. He'll call me and I'll go and do as I'm bid because I have to. I can do it. I'll go back and stand where I cried and vomited and I'll look the Dark Lord in the face as proof it didn't break me.

He didn't break me. I can be brave.

I can be brave like Sirius.

Hermione closed her eyes and shed the last tear she'd been holding onto. Letting it cascade down the slope of her cheek and falling off of her chin to land on the inked pages. "I can be brave," she whispered defiantly as she closed the diary and reached for a piece of parchment from her bag, pulling out a quill as well as she quickly wrote a letter of reply to Narcissa Malfoy.

A knock at the door pulled her from her focus as she folded the letter and sealed it up in an envelope, using a stamp that she'd been given by Kreacher before returning to Hogwarts, the Black family crest and a stick of black wax. "Come in," she said, assuming it was Ginny or one of the other girls, offering her privacy after her embarrassing exit from dinner.

"You decent?" Harry's voice spoke softly and Hermione's eyes widened as she peeked around her curtains to see her best friend standing in the doorway, a hand over his eyes.

She laughed at the sight. "How did you get up here?" she asked.

"Figured out how to disable the spell on the stairs," he said, still covering his eyes. "Can I . . .?"

"Oh for goodness sake, Harry, I'm not naked," she snapped.

He breathed a sigh of relief and uncovered his face. "Huh," he said, looking around. "Looks just like our dorm only . . . clean," he noted and then walked over to Hermione's bed, taking a seat beside her. "Ron told me what happened. Those sodding bastards. How could they actually think that you'd —"

"I'm going."

Harry stared at her. "You're what? Hermione!"

"I'm going," she insisted. "I won't let that place break me. Whether I like it or not, and I don't," she said quickly, "those people are Draco's parents and . . . and Narcissa risked everything for Draco. She loves him and wants to see him for Christmas and they can't leave the Manor. He has to go to them and if I'm to get to know them in any way, it has to be there," she said and frowned. "I don't like it and I can't imagine they do as well but . . . I'm going."

Harry looked furious and she understood why. The choices laid upon the table were not good ones. "Do you want me to —"

"No," she said quickly. "You're going to spend Christmas at the Burrow with the Weasleys and with Sirius. I'll go to Malfoy Manor for . . . a visit," she said. "And then I'll leave and come to be with the rest of you. Will you write to Mrs. Weasley and see if Draco can come along as well?" she asked and Harry nodded. "I should . . . I should tell Sirius what happened. Unless you already have?"

Harry blushed. "I might have . . ."

"Oh, Harry." She sighed and then wrapped her arms around her friend in a tight hug. "I think he'll insist on coming with me. Perhaps I can ask Severus as well," she added. "Surround myself with support that they will either respect or . . . be annoyed by," she said with a smirk. "Walk with me to the Owlery? I have a letter I wrote, accepting Mrs. Malfoy's invitation."

Harry nodded and walked with her toward the door.

"So," she said, breaking the momentary silence. "Is the disarming spell for the stairs the same as it is in the Slytherin dorms?"

Harry paused and stared at his friend and then after a long moment of contemplation said, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Hermione."

She laughed and took his arm as he led her down the stairs to the Gryffindor common room where Draco was waiting for her at the bottom.

"Granger," he addressed her, falling back on old habits which told her that he was upset. "I swear to you, I had no idea what was in that letter and I'm going to write my mother and demand that —"

"I'm going," she told him, smiling to Harry as he stepped back, allowing the couple to deal with the issue at hand. "I'm going and you won't be demanding anything of your mother. I've written her a letter, accepting her invitation. I'm going to the Manor with you for Christmas . . . not to stay," she insisted, waiting for him to ask questions. When he said nothing but instead stared at her with his mouth open, she continued, "and I'll be asking Sirius and Severus both to accompany us."

"My father doesn't have a wand," Draco said quickly.

Hermione smirked, catching his meaning. "I'll ask Sirius to behave himself."

"Hermione," he said, reaching out for her hand. "You don't have to —"

"I do," she replied back quickly. "I have to do this. That's your home. Your parents are stuck there and I won't keep you from them. I also won't let your father think I'm afraid to go there."

"But you are," he pointed out.

She nodded. "Terrified. But I won't let that stop me. I can be brave," she said with a smile. "I can be brave like Regulus."

oOoOoOo

Sirius and Severus had both been less than pleased to hear of the news regarding their new Christmas plans and that Hermione had accepted the invitation to Malfoy Manor without discussing it with either of them. Still, they both agreed to accompany both her and Draco to Wiltshire for the holiday and then Severus shooed Sirius out of the dungeons because he didn't want his lab to "smell like mutt".

Several days later when the fear finally begun to fade a bit, Hermione was dropped into facing another wretched phobia.

"Pleeeease," Draco whinged and Hermione glared at him. Not at him, exactly, but at the broom grasped within his hands. "Hermione, I won't let you fall. I swear it."

"You fall all the time," she pointed out.

"I do not," he said, clearly offended by her words, "I crash," he corrected her, "playing Quidditch. There's a difference. I've never just fallen off my broom and I would never let you fall. Seeker reflexes," he said with a bright grin.

She fidgeted with her fingers and tried to reason in her head all the many ways that this was a bad idea. "I'm . . . I'm not . . . flying is just unnatural and —"

"You're a witch. Witches fly. Your father loved flying more than almost anything in the world, you've said so yourself," he pointed out. "Your father and uncle both played on their Quidditch teams, your best friends ALL play, and I play. I'm not asking you to pick up a Beater's bat. I'm asking you to summon that Gryffindor courage you're always prattling on about and face another fear," he said, a smug grin on his face when he knew that he'd hit just the right spot to properly provoke her.

"Fine," she said through clenched teeth. "But . . . we do this on my terms, agreed?"

Draco nodded. "As long as you're in the sky with your arms wrapped around my waist, I'm happy," he said with a silly smile that made her want to kiss him. So she did.

He grinned against her mouth and joyfully wrapped his arms around her waist, ignoring Professor Vector as she cleared her throat while passing them in the hallway, pulling away to peck her once more on the lips. "You won't regret it. Once we're hovering over the lake and you can see the sky reflected in the water . . . it's the second most beautiful thing in the world."

She smiled at him, refusing to ask what the first most beautiful thing in the world was, already knowing his rehearsed answer to the question that would only make her roll her eyes at his sad attempt at flattery. "My terms. You swear it? We'll face fears together when we go flying."

Draco picked up on her words immediately but made the mistake of thinking that a Gryffindor couldn't be cunning enough to trick him. "Of course," he said, not realising the mistake of his promise.

An hour later when she led him by the hand toward the Forbidden Forest instead of the lake, Draco began to understand the ramifications of underestimating his witch. "No, no, no," he said and dug his heels into the ground, even as she tried dragging him forward, toward Hagrid's hut, toward the pumpkin patch where the giant, grey chicken lay on the ground, tearing apart what looked to be . . . a ferret.

"We're facing both of our fears today, Draco," Hermione said, pulling on his arm.

"Easy for you to say, Granger! A broom never sent you to the Hospital Wing!"

"Correct. That's because when Madam Hooch gave instructions on how to handle a broom, I followed them instead of acting cocky because my need to show up a classmate overpowered common sense," she said and watched as he huffed at her. "I've already talked to Hagrid and he says it's perfectly fine and that he had a good chat with Buckbeak."

Draco shook his head. "That thing tried to kill me!"

"And bully for you, you tried to kill it back," she pointed out. "We're all even, aren't we?"

"It's a monster. It'll . . . it hates me. Look at it!" he said, pointing as they approached the small gate. Buckbeak was indeed looking up, his head tilted to the side in observation of the pair, a tuft of fur hanging off of his large beak as he finished his dinner. "Don't think I don't know what you're thinking," he said to the large creature. "He remembers me," Draco insisted. "Remembers the taste of my blood."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "First, he doesn't remember you. Second, he didn't bite you. He scratched you."

"Probably licked his claws clean while I was being rushed to the Hospital Wing to save my life," he mumbled under his breath.

Hermione laughed and then frowned apologetically when he turned and glared at her in reply. She stepped forward and placed both of her hands on his cheeks to draw his attention back to her. "Draco," she said softly. "I won't let you get hurt, I promise," she told him. "I've flown on Buckbeak before and so has Harry and so has Sirius. Many times. He's perfectly safe if you treat him with respect instead of acting all cocky and getting flustered because Harry Potter got to ride a hippogriff when you didn't," she pointed out and Draco mumbled something about "the Chosen One" under his breath in reply.

"I love you," she said sweetly, and that caused him to soften his defenses. "We can face our fears together."

He stared at her, noting the suddenly apprehensive tone in her voice at the last words and couldn't help but wonder if she was still talking about her fear of flying. Unlikely. She was probably more afraid of going to the Manor and facing the demons and the history there and this was a stepping stone. Him trusting her so that she could also trust him. Facing their fears together. His of the bird, hers of flying, and perhaps both of their phobia of addressing one of the worst moments in the war for the pair of them.

"I love you," he replied and kissed her softly.

Hermione smiled and led him slowly toward Buckbeak who stood suddenly alert, orange eyes staring at the pair carefully. "Hello, Buckbeak," the witch said with a bright smile. "I was hoping we could go for a ride . . . er . . . well, not hoping really. I still deplore heights and flying, but I trust a living creature more than a bit of enchanted wood and —"

"Hermione," Draco said, interrupting her rambling. "You're chatting to a giant chicken as if it understands you." Buckbeak snorted and turned glaring eyes on Draco. "Oh fuck, it understands us, doesn't it?" he said, whimpering slightly and scratching at the scar that still remained behind on his arm from the last time he'd encountered the hippogriff.

Hermione smiled. "He probably smells fear," she said and then quietly added, "and arrogance." Draco turned and gave her a stern look and she rolled her eyes. "They're proud creatures and you've done nothing but insult him. I insist that you be nice, Draco. This hippogriff saved my life, Harry's, and Sirius's. Now bow."

Draco swallowed hard and very slowly, with great trepidation, bowed his head before the beast. "How come you don't have to bow?" he asked, his eyes barely looking to the side to see Hermione watching him carefully.

"I already did," she said. "Buckbeak knows and trusts me so I only have to give a little nod of the head. I've earned his loyalty. Now earn yours," she said and watched as Draco continued to bow, even as Buckbeak just stared at him, occasionally tilting his large head from side to side. The beast finally turned and looked at Hermione and she smiled at him sweetly and then stroked the soft small feathers of his face. Finally, the hippogriff relented and gave a small bow to Draco who sighed in relief and slowly rose.

"Now what?" he asked.

Hermione stepped forward and took Draco's hand with a smile, lacing their fingers together, her palm to the back of his hand, straightening Draco's arm out toward Buckbeak. "Now wait for him," she whispered, leaning her head against the wizard's shoulder and smiling when she felt him relax into her touch, turn and kiss the top of her head. He almost didn't even notice when the hippogriff had pressed his beak into the palm of Draco's hand.

Draco's fingers ran over the smooth texture of the beak and then up between the eyes of the beast where he touched the feathers there, taking slow, deep breaths as he moved. "Okay," he said on an exhale. "What do you say you and I show this witch what flying is really like?" he asked and then jumped a little when Buckbeak trotted forward, adjusting his wings as though readying himself for passengers.

Unlike horses that he'd ridden in the past around the Manor growing up, which usually came with saddles, Draco leveraged himself against Buckbeak's wing with his left foot and threw his right leg over the back of the animal, gently gripping the feathers at the base of his neck to steady himself. "Woah," he said and patted Buckbeak before turning to reach his hand out to Hermione who suddenly looked anxious. "C'mon, Granger," he said with a smirk. "I faced my fears."

She nibbled her lower lip. "I thought it would take you longer and eventually you'd agree that maybe we should take this in small steps," she admitted.

Draco rolled his eyes and reached for her again. "Hermione."

She grit her teeth and gripped Draco's hand, squeaking a little when he tugged her up behind him with a strength she wasn't entirely aware he had. She made an "oof" sound when she settled in behind him, gripping the front of his robes tight enough that her knuckles turned a paler white than Draco's own skin. "Ease up," he whispered and then nudged Buckbeak gently with his feet once he felt Hermione loosen her grip just a touch. "Take it easy, okay?" he asked the beast who bent his knees and leapt up to the sky in one boundless jump, wings extended and flapping down hard against the ground, throwing leaves and dirt and a bit of snow up in their wake.

It wasn't like riding a broom, that much was certain, but Draco grinned with excitement once they flew up and over the Forbidden Forest, and he turned to watch as the sunset glowed in reflection off of the Black Lake. "Look," he told Hermione and when she didn't respond, he sighed as he felt her face being pressed hard against his back. "Hermione, I thought you said you'd done this before."

She nodded quickly. "I didn't like it then either."

"You mean you didn't like jumping on a hippogriff and riding it up to the castle in a hurry to free your uncle who was being targeted by Dementors?" he asked sarcastically. "Why on earth wouldn't you have enjoyed that kind of flying?"

"Prat!"

"Hermione."

"Don't want to."

"Hermione."

"Too high."

"Love," he said softly and she didn't reply back to the name, but she slowly loosened her hold on his robes and instead pressed the flat of her palms against his chest and abdomen. "Hermione, open your eyes," Draco whispered, peeling one of her hands away from him to kiss the tips of her fingers.

She did open her eyes and the first sight she was met with was the glimmer of water just beneath them as Buckbeak lowered down, brushing his claws against the surface of the lake that had yet to freeze over but was turning to ice just around the edges, surrounded by snow. "Wow," she said as she noticed the colours of the setting sun on the water, bright golds and deep reds and the softest oranges and purples caught up in the giant bowl of the reflecting lake.

Flying this time wasn't as hectic and hurried as it was before. It wasn't shaky with Buckbeak's wings flapping hard against the wind but instead was a soft glide. Even as he took them higher, ever so slowly, Hermione felt the calm remain with her, smiling even as the last bit of colour drained from the lake and the sky, leaving instead a velvety black curtain above them, littered with bright stars.

"There I am," Draco said with a smirk, pointing at the constellation for which he was named.

She smiled and sighed against him, pressing her chest to his back. "Don't get too smug there, dragon boy," she said. "My father named me after every star in the sky," she said with a grin, her eyes searching out the constellation of Leo, where she knew her father's star rested.

"It's right there," Draco said, as though he knew exactly what she was doing, and he took the hand that was still wrapped in his palm and pointed up toward the familiar set of stars, pointing out the glimmering spot in the sky for which Regulus Black was named.


A/N: I've read plenty of Dramione stories (and really any story where Hermione is the main female love interest) where the wizard convinces her to face her fear of flying. So I wanted to do that bit of cliche (and adorable) sweetness but with a little twist and force Draco to deal with a little discomfort as well. The pair growing stronger together by neither being the victim or the hero and, instead, learning to depend on one another.