Chapter 37: Accident

Draco liked the flush of color that seemed to linger in her neck all morning. Every time she met his eyes, he could see it rise again, see that shy smile creep onto her lips before she looked away. It made him want to kiss her every single time. He felt almost giddy recalling the look on her face, and the feeling of her body falling over the edge because of him. He really hoped she'd take him up on his offer.

Although, next time, they would remember to shut the damn door. Afterwards, they'd gone to the kitchen, where Percy had left a short, rushed scribbled note.

Hermione and Draco- Consider closing the door next time. Breakfast this morning was somewhat awkwardly interrupted. Cheers. -Percy

Hermione had squeaked, covered her face with both hands, and turned a brilliant shade of red. Was living here making her more capable of blushing? Is that what happened around the Weasley's? He felt a tinge in his own face. He'd completely forgotten anyone else was in the house. They'd managed to laugh it off, she'd gone to shower, and he'd started cooking something. She seemed surprised to come downstairs and find him turning sausages with his wand. He'd gone to quickly shower, and returned to join her for breakfast. The Daily Prophet had swooped in, and she had laid it out on the table to read as they ate. Draco flicked his wand to summon the reading glasses, narrowing his eyes at her as she bit back a grin, and sat next to her with his plate.

A sudden thought occurred to him.

This felt good. Simple, even. He liked falling asleep with her, waking with her, making her moan, cooking her food, eating with her. What was she doing to him? He'd never liked sleeping with anyone- it was always too hot. Bringing pleasure to another had almost always been a means to an end, but here he was, more excited to put his hands on her than to have her hands on him. Cooking for someone else? Sitting and eating breakfast, reading the Daily Prophet with her, wearing these ridiculous glasses?

He wanted more of this.

After their trip to St. Mungo's, they arrived at Ollivander's shop. Since Mr. Ollivander had wanted her to bring Draco back with her, Hermione was certain that he would be safe from any attack. Draco had secretly penned a letter to Mr. Ollivander when Hermione had been in for her treatment. There was no way he'd show up to that shop unannounced!

Mr. Ollivander was waiting for them. He calmly flipped the sign to closed and took them to the back room. Hermione had warned him of the old man's strange habit with wands. Draco wasn't entirely pleased, but he relinquished his wand outside the strange room.

A table set for tea for three sat there. Draco took his seat next to Hermione. Mr. Ollivander took the teapot and poured for all three of them. Damn old Wizards and their courtesies- there was no way he could avoid drinking it if he wanted any answers! Mr. Ollivander raised his cup first and took a long sip, shuddering and reaching for the sugar, adding a cube, stirring with his spoon. "I think it steeped too long. My apologies. This is always harder for me to do by hand than by magic."

Draco lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. It was bitter. What kind of tea was this? He took a second sip to be polite and put it back down. Hermione also made a face. She took a small spoon of honey and stirred it into her tea.

"Now then," Mr. Ollivander put his hands together, peering at the two of them from over his fingertips. "I asked Miss Granger to return with you, and I'm glad to see you agreed. My apologies again for my behavior." Useless words. Obligatory. The only thing he was sorry about was the shield charm stopping the attack. He held Draco's eyes. "I would be happy to answer your questions, if you would consent to answer a few of my own."

Draco nodded, silent. It depended on the question, but he'd be happy to play along. "Of course, Mr. Ollivander. What do you want to know?"

A smile split the old man's lips. He deliberately took another sip of tea. Draco hated this. That single motion told him Mr. Ollivander was the type to play a very subtle game, one Draco had been forced to learn through his interactions with his Father. No wonder Granger had been so frustrated leaving the shop. Muggle-born, she couldn't recognize the subtle hints and clues that Ollivander was laying out in order to assure cooperation. If they didn't play, Ollivander would merely kick them out again. The potion for his mother was almost done. They didn't have time for this. Draco picked up his own cup, taking another bitter sip, and then sat back in his chair, hands wrapped around the delicate glass, trying to appear calm and relaxed. Mr. Ollivander's eyes flickered to Hermione. She didn't understand.

"She's muggle-born, Ollivander, she's not going to get it." Draco said softly, taking a second sip of his tea for her. "Leave her out of it."

"What?" Hermione asked in confusion, looking to the two of them.

"Just drink your tea," Draco said evenly, gaze not leaving Ollivander's. "Understand me, sir?" Ollivander's eyes twinkled slightly. He accepted. Draco would have to step lightly. Hermione's ignorance in this situation meant he couldn't slip, not once.

"Very well." Ollivander lifted a tray of sweets from his side and placed them in the middle of the table, taking one himself, "I insist you try my treacle fudge. It's an old family recipe!"

Draco took one, and began to eat it slowly. The sweetness was a welcome relief to the bitterness of the tea. Hermione copied him. Intelligent girl, she knew she was missing something and now she was trying to pick it up. She needed a few books on old Wizarding families. It would do her good to learn a few of the old tricks and courtesies. There were several at the new Manor that drifted through his mind, but he shoved the thoughts away for now.

After he'd eaten it, he muttered a polite compliment about Ollivander's family and skill with confections. Hermione obviously didn't like this treacle fudge, but Ollivander seemed to excuse the slight face she'd made when she'd swallowed it. The old man took another sip of tea, emptying his cup. Hermione and Draco did the same. He placed his cup down, and Draco took the teapot to refill for the table. Hermione tried to catch his eye, but he couldn't get distracted. One false step now, and they would never get the answer from this stubborn old crow.

"What questions do you have, sir?" Draco asked, keeping his tone even and respectful as he placed the teapot down.

"I am glad you asked," Ollivander began, placing his arms down on the table. "It is merely a curiosity of mine. If it's too much trouble-"

"Of course it's trouble, you batty old fool," Draco replied easily, "Just get on with it."

He froze. What the fuck had just happened? Hermione was staring at him. He could feel her eyes boring into his face, but he tried to ignore it. "Oh, very good," Ollivander smiled more fully, hands finally falling down to rest on the table. "I was hoping it'd be clear when you were ready."

"What?" Draco whispered, stunned. He'd never faltered like this! What had happened?

"Miss Granger, when and how did your want begin to work for Mr. Malfoy's? Does his wand work for you?"

"A few weeks ago," Hermione answered immediately, "He healed a cut in my hand with my wand after it wouldn't work for Ginny. I've never used his wand." She paled, putting a hand to her lips in surprise.

"And Mr. Malfoy, have you ever been able to work a wand in this way? How would you describe its function?"

"Never," Draco responded firmly, "It feels like part of my arm, as easy to use as my own wand." He threw the cup across the room, fury bubbling inside his chest. "You laced all of this with Veritaserum, didn't you? You crazy fool! You consumed it yourself!"

"Indeed. I wanted truths." Ollivander replied easily, continuing on as though it were perfectly normal to drug himself with his guests. "Now my suspicion is that it takes a certain level of physical and emotional intimacy for wands to react this way. Miss Granger, pardon my bluntness, for the Veritaserum makes it impossible to be delicate. Has Mr. Malfoy deflowered you?"

"I'm still a virgin." Hermione spoke. She put both hands suddenly over her mouth, tears welling in her eyes, a single one escaping, going red in the face. Shame? Fear? What? Why! Why was she crying over something so stupid? He slammed both hands to the table, standing, locking eyes with the fool he now wanted to throttle.

"How dare you make my witch cry!" Draco growled darkly at the vile old man. He took Hermione gently by the elbow, leading her to the door.

"Mr. Malfoy, why is she your witch?"

"Because I-" love her.

The thought finished in his mind as Hermione put both hands over Draco's mouth. She was crying more now, almost afraid to meet his eyes, shaking her head no, "Don't answer anymore questions, Draco. Please… I want to leave…"

They stood awkwardly in the Manor after that. He was afraid to speak. How much veritaserum had they consumed? He didn't have an antidote prepared. How long would it take for the effects to wear off? She seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "I need to brew something," Draco muttered. His fingers were itching for a task. "What do you want to do?"

"Crawl under a rock," Hermione whispered, going red again. He lightly put his arm around her side, squeezing gently. She rested her head against his chest for a moment. "...can we avoid questions, right now, Draco?"

He nodded, keeping his arm around her, guiding her gently. "I'll set you up in the library's reading nook. I think you'll find it relaxing." Draco had set up this nook himself. It was a rounded chair in the sun of the window, and many interesting books were still stacked all around. He could nearly feel the tension drifting from her at the sight. Before he left her for the potion lab, he stole one soft kiss to her lips. Damn that impertinent old man! He wanted to talk to her about this, but not when the veritaserum controlled her responses. That wouldn't be fair.

Back in his laboratory, Draco first checked on his mother's potion and triple checked the sealing charm that would protect it from any outside contamination. Everything was going as it should. Excellent. Mind wandering, he began to tinker with the dreamless sleep potion again. He'd done more calculations, with information drawn from the green and silver book. There was a way to make it non-habit forming.

As he worked, Ollivander's question burned into his mind again. "Mr. Malfoy, why is she your witch?" "Because I-" love her. Veritaserum made it so he couldn't lie, not even to himself. That's what this was, then? Should it frighten him? Oddly, it felt… easy to accept. He'd known for a while now, if he were being honest with himself… but he hadn't wanted to be. Part of that was because of her. She didn't seem to want to talk about it, and he'd be damned if he brought it up. Had she known today what the potion would've made him say? Did she stop him on purpose?

The thought made his hand slip. A vial shattered and he got a facefull of a fine powder. He coughed violently, flicking his wand to be rid of it and stumbling out of the lab quickly, coughing even harder. Everything spun wildly.

"Draco?!" He stumbled drunkenly from the potion lab. What had he dropped? "Come on, let's get you to bed." His body leaned heavily on another, and his feet moved blindly. He was suddenly so tired, and too hot. Draco pulled away, recognizing his bedroom, one last coherent thought finding his brain. His clothes could still be contaminated. He ripped off his shirt, throwing it aside, then tore off his pants and boxers down, stepping out of them unsteadily while stumbling to his bed, falling face first into the softness. Being naked felt amazing against these sheets. He felt cooler, and more relaxed. It wasn't long before darkness took him away.