When Draco first woke, he was alone. The mid-morning sunlight was streaming through the bay window in a direct beam onto his face, cementing in place the massive headache that was already percolating behind his eyes and above the back of his neck. He sat up, groaned, and rubbed at his sleep-coated eyes, which only made the headache worse. His bones were on fire near every joint and he supposed the pain potion he had taken prior to going out had finally wore off. His arthritis was certainly back with vigor.
It was a few moments before the scattered pieces of his memories from the last 24 hours slotted back into place.
Hermione…
She was not in the guest room – but the dress she had worn the previous evening was, which proved that his fuzzy concepts of their tryst had also actually occurred. Not that he had really wondered… he could still taste her on his lips.
By the time he dressed, made his way to the loo, and located some hangover potion in Kassem's store cupboard, he had begun to feel a little better. His eyes were tired; he fished his glasses out of the pocket of his robes and put them on, just to have some respite until his headache had dissipated.
He did not begin worrying about Hermione's absence until the others could not locate her either.
"Perhaps she went out?" Kassem suggested, trying to be helpful. He had taken three doses of hangover potion and was still slumped over his kitchen table, half-dressed and looking as if he had been hit head-on by the Knight Bus.
"Without telling anyone?" Draco worried quietly.
.
.
If he had hoped they would quickly find Hermione and discover that her absence had arisen from a misunderstanding of sorts, Draco was disappointed.
"Would she have returned to Scotland without you?" Kassem queried. He was looking a good deal more human after having ingested two espressos.
"I don't know." It was the truth - he didn't.
They searched the few blocks of wizarding Paris where Kassem lived for the better part of two hours, but came up empty-handed until they stopped into a small coffee shop. The barista – looking frazzled at the end of her shift – informed them that an English-speaking young witch had stopped in hours earlier and that an older wizard had paid for her coffee.
"Did they stay?" Kassem questioned the woman.
"For a bit," she maintained, struggling somewhat to remember. "They left together, I think."
An older wizard that she left with? Hermione doesn't know anyone in Paris, surely…
Frustrated and feeling that they were getting nowhere, Draco wished he had Theo with him. Nott might be a prat to deal with at times, but at least he could have used his newfound Sight to help locate Hermione. He did not like the idea of her fraternizing with a stranger one bit.
"Do you know the man? Does he frequent this shop at all?" Kassem was pressing the barista, flashing his signature devil-may-care smile at her. It seemed to be working.
Smoothing out her hair, the barista smiled back, her eyes locking into Kassem's. "I've seen him before, but I wouldn't say he's here often. His name is Germain and he takes his coffee black. That's all I know."
I need Theo, Draco decided firmly. Maybe it was paranoid of him - but it was uncharacteristic of her. No more wasting time if Hermione's in any serious trouble.
.
.
As it was a Hogsmeade weekend, the village was teeming with Hogwarts students. Draco's headache had gone by now, but his arthritis was continuing to flare up with a vengeance. Picking his way amongst the throng, he had only one goal in mind: find Theo. Nott's abilities would certainly be useful in at least determining that Hermione was safe, but hopefully also in locating her.
Think, he told himself. If you were Theo, where would you be?
Critically, he broke down his options, and concluded that Nott was most likely smoking a cigarette somewhere on the outskirts of the village. He headed in a generally northern direction, toward the school.
By sheer luck, he had been correct. Partially off the beaten path where it left the grounds of the school and entered Hogsmeade, he found Theo smoking with Blaise.
"Malfoy," Zabini greeted upon spotting him.
"Well, look what the kneazle dragged in," Nott teased, fumbling with his pack of cigarettes and offering him one. "Smoke?"
He was so stressed about Hermione that he took one. Blaise lit it for him with a snap of his silver lighter. He could almost hear Hermione's voice chastising him as he breathed in his first lungfuls of smoke.
"Your bed was empty last night," Zabini remarked, eyeing him interestedly.
"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped unconvincingly.
"And since when do you wear glasses?"
He had forgotten he was wearing them. It was something he did not like to do when others were present – except Hermione, who seemed to like the way he looked in them. Ripping them from his face, he stuffed them angrily into the pocket of his robes and offered Blaise no reply.
Theo turned to Blaise, "Weren't you just saying you were going to meet up with Sue Li?"
Zabini shrugged, his dark eyes still calculating Draco. With apprehension flickering in the forefront of his brain however, Draco could not be bothered to worry about what might be running through Blaise's head. Where could she be? What if she had been kidnapped, raped, or killed? How could he live with himself…?
It was a mercy when Blaise finally left, presumably to go meet up with this month's paramour. The moment he was out of sight, Draco turned to Theo. "I need your help."
Sucking in the last of his cigarette, Nott probed, "Oh?"
"You remember Kassem Charafeddine?"
"That filthy rich American whose father used to socialize with yours?"
Draco nodded. "Hermione and I met up with him last night and spent the night in Paris. She was with me when I fell asleep – stop wiggling your eyebrows, you twat – but when I woke up, she was gone. She didn't tell any of us where she was going, nor did she leave a note…"
"…And you want me to See where she is," Theo inferred, stomping out his spent cigarette. "No problem."
Despite the imminent answer that must be forthcoming, Draco felt on edge. Please be safe, he silently prayed.
"Well, she's not at Hogwarts," Theo informed him. "In fact, she's still in Paris. She met up with…"
But here, he paused. A frown darkened his brow.
"What?" Draco demanded impatiently.
"Sorry, Draco. I can't interfere too much with this one. If I tell you where she is, it will change both your futures for the worse…"
"Is she safe?"
"Seems to be. Perhaps a bit hungover – but she's alive, not trussed up in someone's basement... nor is some bloke shoving his body parts in places they don't belong…"
Draco closed his eyes, "Did you have to be quite so graphic?"
"She's fine, you prat."
"Then why did she leave without saying anything first?"
He paused. "You need to take that up with her."
"I need you to help me find her!"
"I can't," Theo insisted, taking a step backward.
"Why not?" Draco demanded.
"If I help you, she ends up with someone else other than you."
Stunned, Draco blinked at this new information. "How?"
Theo only shrugged noncommittally, his eyes cast down at the cigarette he had crushed into the ground.
"Then I'll have to head back to Paris and look, myself."
"You can't do that either. Not right away. There's something here which you have to do first."
After a few moments of brainstorming possible solutions, Draco had an epiphany that came like a sack full of stones to his gut. With horrifying clarity, he realized, "I know what I have to do."
"What's that?"
"I need Potter."
Theo stared at Draco as if he had just declared his intent to begin a career in children's puppeteering. "You can't be serious…"
He cringed, "Unfortunately, I have never been more so. Where is he?"
Theo closed his eyes, then answered, "Slytherin common room."
Draco's lip curled; of course the Boy Wonder would be presiding over his own former home base for this confrontation…
"I'll need the password."
"But we don't have it," Nott lamented.
"Look into the past and get it!"
Theo gaped, "Never thought of that before. I am going to get into so much trouble from here on out… and it's Sanctus Pur this month, before you go ballistic on me."
Santus Pur… the holy purity…
Draco had nearly forgotten the Slytherin passwords had tended in the direction of the elitist mindset. It seemed so backward now, so ridiculous. Had he really ascribed to that way of thinking, once? Had his parents really cared about lineage to the point that they were willing to condone murder? Had Hermione really once been forbidden to him – was still forbidden, in some circles – to the point that their marriage was considered disgraceful?
You're married over ninety years and she gives you three kids.
Damn him if that didn't sound enticing… in fact, he was patently sure that nothing else would suffice for him, now that he knew it was an option.
Like the snap of his fingers, he knew: it was too late for him. She was the one.
Draco Malfoy was in love.
.
.
Armed with the password, gaining admittance to the Slytherin commons was laughably easy. As the cellar wall melted away before his eyes and the common room was revealed, Draco was assaulted by a curious wave of both nostalgia and repugnance. His mind briefly went to war with itself and the victor declared that he really much preferred the midnight blue and airy, vaulted ceilings of Ravenclaw Tower. It was so much more welcoming, more elysian.
Here, there were snakes.
Collecting his presence of mind, he drew himself up and swaggered into the room as if he owned the place. Bathed in the emerald glow that dominated the common area, he tried to ignore the queer sensation that had begun turning in his gut.
Physically, the place was just as he remembered it: the roaring fire in the enormous hearth of indomitable black marble… the enormous glass cloches that rose to the ceiling exhibiting a collection of ancient human skulls… power, supercilious pride both in evidence. But there was something different, something new about the aura of the place…
In the center of the room, an older Slytherin was teaching a younger student to cast a certain spell, while a couple of fifth years shared a gentle kiss in the far corner. Meanwhile, several boys from different years were having a meeting at one of the round tables - upon a second look, they appeared to actually comprise a fantasy Quidditch league. Such displays of friendship and intimacy were never conducted so openly during Draco's memory of being in Slytherin. In fact, even when he had dated Parkinson, who was by all accounts a simpering, clingy sort of girl…
No, he mentally stopped himself. There was no use harping over the past. What was done, was done – and now, Hermione was missing… and somehow, wife or not, she had become multitudes more dear to him than Parkinson ever could have been, because he cared for her with an entirely different sort of affection…
He closed his eyes. For a moment he would swear he could feel her: the faint scent of jasmine, the inexplicable energy of her mind racing a million miles a minute, the soft brush of her fingertips tracing his jawline before a kiss…
He had to find Potter.
The presence of Draco Malfoy in the Slytherin common room went unnoticed for barely eight seconds and soon caused a minor stir amongst the inhabitants. Doing his best to ignore the stares of his peers, he quickly spotted Potter and made his way over toward the far lounge area, where the wizard in question was discussing tactics with two members of the new Slytherin Quidditch team.
"Hufflepuff will play Ravenclaw in the next match," one of the Chasers - Simmons - was observing as he pushed his glasses up his nose. "They have very different strategies... though I don't fancy going up against the Esposito twins again."
"Ravenclaw is better though," decided Chaudhary, their Keeper. She was plaiting her long hair nonchalantly as she spoke, "Make no mistake, we'll be playing eagles in the finals."
Potter looked as if he were about to respond with a comment of his own, when he looked up, only to have his eyes land on Draco. An expression of melded confusion and consternation immediately plastered itself onto his face. "Malfoy?"
Both Simmons and Chaudhary also turned to look.
"Potter," he echoed, mindful that he had very few sympathizers in the new Slytherin. Politely as he could muster, despite that he really just wanted to hex the specky git in his face, he requested, "Can I speak to you privately?"
"Sure," the wizard obliged, blinking slowly. "Dormitory might be free."
Neither Simmons or Chaudhary made a comment, but their mutual expressions of distaste spoke for them.
Only Dean Thomas was inside when the boys entered. Though his face remained neutral at Harry's entrance, it quickly morphed into confusion when he took note of his companion.
"Mind giving us a minute, Dean?"
"Sure thing," the other Slytherin murmured, taking his book and crossing the long room toward the exit, his eyes flickering suspiciously at Draco the entire time.
Once they were alone, Potter cast a muffliato on the door, and crossed his arms. "Well?"
His mouth went suddenly dry. "I need your help."
Potter only looked nonplussed.
"Hermione is missing."
Suddenly concerned, the Boy Who Lived uncrossed his arms. "For how long?"
"Since this morning."
"I noticed she wasn't at breakfast," he observed, crossing the room to his trunk, where he threw open the lid and began rummaging around for something inside.
Draco noted with interest that he had chosen the bed closest to the door, despite it being on the lowest platform. After a quick moment – Potter's trunk was a total mess – the wizard emerged with a folded bit of old parchment.
"What are you doing?"
"Seeing where Hermione is."
"Are you going to try using that map?" Draco questioned. Despite his curiosity, some disdain had crept back into his voice - a natural occurrence that came from dealing with anything Potter-related.
Harry shot him a look. "Yes, Malfoy. It's going to help me find Hermione."
Recalling Theo's reveal that Hermione was still in Paris, he insisted, "That map is not going to help you. She's not at Hogwarts."
"How do you know? Have you checked everywhere? The library?"
"What kind of imbecile do you take me for?" Draco snapped.
Harry's hands paused in unfolding the parchment and slowly, he looked up at Draco. "What do you know, Malfoy? Where is she?"
"She's in France. Paris to be exact."
Eyes narrowed, he pressed, "Did she go there with you?"
Draco nodded.
"Why?"
Draco avoided looking at Harry. He had not thought about how he was going to handle this yet. He had always assumed Hermione would be the one explaining this part to her friends: "Oh, by the way I married Draco Malfoy…" while he smirked like a smug bastard and put an arm around her waist, and Potter and Weasley gaped like fish out of water. He had never imagined he would have to tell them, himself.
He also knew that telling him was probably the only way he was going to get Harry Potter to trust him right now. Managing a wan smile, he said, "Because Hermione... is now my wife."
Like the dropping of a bomb, there was a very pure silence following that statement. Harry only stared.
"Are you going to say something, Potter?" he sneered. "If you keep staring like that, I'm going to start thinking you're disappointed that I'm spoken for."
Unsticking his throat, Harry coughed out, "What do you want me to say? Hermione told me once that marrying you was one of her options in eventually breaking herself free of you..."
Draco inwardly flinched at the words 'free of you'. "New Years' Eve. We tied the knot at the Ministry. There was a statute of secrecy on the contract."
"Almost a month ago..." Potter interpreted. Initially surprised, the expression on his face quickly morphed into hurt. "Why didn't she tell us?"
"You'll have to take that up with her... if we find her."
"Right." Eyebrows contracting for a moment, it was all at once that his face cleared. "We need to get Ron."
"We don't need..." Draco began.
"We're a package deal, Malfoy," Harry interrupted irritably. "You can't have just me and Hermione, or even just Hermione. Ron comes as one-third of the bargain."
Chagrined, Draco supposed he should have known that this might happen, though it still grated on his nerves. "Fine," he mumbled, "whatever."
Unfolding the aged map in his hands, Potter pointed his wand tip into the center of the large parchment and intoned, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Draco supposed this must have been a password of some sort. A welcoming inscription sprawled across the front of the page:
Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers
are proud to present
THE MARAUDER'S MAP
Before his eyes unfurled one of the most magnificent things he had ever seen: every classroom, every hallway, down to every corner and nook of the castle was depicted. Every inch of the grounds, every secret passage was accounted for. Even more impressive was the colony of miniscule dots that blipped along these passages, hallways, classrooms, and nooks – and every last one was labeled with a person's name.
"Found him," Harry murmured, tapping his finger to the corresponding place on the map, "Hufflepuff common room... with Greengrass."
"That's some map, Potter…" Draco said lowly.
Harry paused to glance sidelong as his former nemesis, but said nothing other than, "Let's go." He placed his wand back into the center of the map and spoke, "Mischief managed."
The anatomy of the castle siphoned off the page, but not before Draco spotted his own small dot standing beside the one marked 'Harry Potter' in the Slytherin boys' dormitory. It struck him in that moment, that he really had surrendered to the idea of keeping Hermione a long time ago. There really was no other explanation for how calm he was with what was currently happening to him.
The boys' walk to the Hufflepuff common room was awkward enough.
"You're one lucky arsehole, Malfoy, you know?"
Draco's eye twitched at the insolent tone of voice in which Potter relayed that thought, though he kept himself from spitting out a repartee.
"All the mistakes you've made… and you still ended up with Hermione."
"I'm well aware of my own past, Potter. I don't need a history lesson."
Ignoring him, Harry pushed, "I just don't get it. Why would Hermione marry you?"
"Alchemy experiment gone awry," Draco bit out through clenched teeth. His knees and hips were still on fire with arthritis and his companion kept a brisk pace. At the same time, he tried to ignore the fact that the students they passed in the corridors had mostly stopped to stare at them as they walked. He supposed it had hardly been uncommon knowledge that the two wizards had constantly been at odds for all their previous years as school-mates.
Seemingly oblivious to the rubberneckers, Harry insisted, "We were going to help her find a way out."
"You sure you want to tell Weasley?" he drawled. "It might break his little badger heart."
"You don't really think Ron still has feelings for Hermione, do you?"
Draco shrugged.
"They weren't good together," Harry protested resolutely.
"It's what everyone expected to happen though, isn't it? Granger and Weasel-bee forever: the white picket fence, the house in the country with a dog and few cats, a herd of freckly, ginger children running around with hair that would make even the most patient saint barmy..."
"I… don't know what everyone expected," said Potter quietly. He was watching Draco very carefully and had even slowed his pace to match his companion's somewhat. "You told me once that you cared for her."
Draco was silent.
"Malfoy?"
He grit his teeth in annoyance.
"Draco?"
"Are we on a first-name basis now, Potter?"
"I don't know, should we be?"
"What does that even mean?"
"Are you planning on remaining in Hermione's life?"
What was he supposed to say to that? Of course it was what he would like best! But to tell Potter… that bespoke a certain something else. Almost like there was no turning back once he had uttered the words, come what may.
Yours, the ghost of her whisper misted into his mind, for now.
Forever, his own grim reality pressured in return. Nothing else will do.
The idea that she might be lost to him nearly broke him.
"What do you want me to say, Potter? That I turned out not to be the son and heir I was expected to be? That because of it, the seams of my reality unraveled, pulling at the threads of what held me together as an individual?" Harry's eyes became wide behind his glasses, but Draco had already begun his reply. "But then, there was Hermione... and like a whisper, she instinctively knew to lay her hands where I was healing… and all those fractured pieces became crevices, and the crevices became thin, white scars…"
The image of her mouth, her full lips creeping upward into a smile to match her ocher eyes sparkling with mirth, knifed through his mind. In fact, he had nearly forgotten about Potter entirely.
"Do you want me to say she made it somehow okay that my ambitions in life were different from what was expected of me? That I need her in my life? She's got scars, too, Potter – and yet, somehow she made me realize the type of man I want to be. I want to be the one that can unmake her brokenness… turn it into something she barely remembers…"
His voice had gone quiet and a sinking feeling like he had just bared his bleeding heart to an enemy made his insides turn. But it was too late; he had committed himself.
"So ask me again, Potter… do I want to remain in Hermione's life?"
It took a few heartbeats for Harry to sort out the proper thing to say to such a speech. "I already knew you loved her."
Under his breath, Draco huffed, "Impossible."
Shaking his head, he insisted, "I knew because it was exactly what happened with Ginny: I loved her before I even knew I did."
They had arrived at the massive stack of barrels that marked the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. Apprehensive of the imminent future and feeling weak from his own admissions, Draco asseverated, "Let's just get one thing straight – this conversation did not take place."
"If you like," Harry shrugged, taking out his wand as he approached the oaken barrels. "But if you think that anything you said isn't already written all over your face for anyone to see, then you're in for a rude awakening. Come on… and better have your wand ready, just in case. Ron isn't going to take this very well at all."
.
.
Author's Note: Reviews are like finding a ready-made pile of autumn leaves to jump into. Amazing. Love you all so much.
I did not use a beta on this chapter, so any mistakes are my own.
