Chapter One
Draco's POV
Moments after Draco had finally fallen asleep, he shot up wide eyed to a horrible screeching sound that was scratching against the eastern window of his master bedroom. Grabbing his wand from the nightstand, he casted Lumosmaximus and held his wand in the direction of the noise. Only to find a rustling tree branch and nothing more. He was alone. He listened once more for anything else that could be wrong in the Manor, and just like every other night, it was dead silent.
"They're not here…they won't come back…I was found completely innocent…" his whisper echoed in his mind forcing him to stay awake. When Draco had conquered his mind and was able to sleep, time unfortunately decided to jump forward. Draco woke to the sun ray's peeking through the branches in front of his window.
Draco spent the next couple of weeks in the Manor's dungeon, studying dark artifacts that had been passed down from family members. In the past, in darker times, these artifacts would have been snatched up, examined, and locked away solely because they found their way through the Malfoy bloodline. At a time like this, a time of peace, all of which Draco used were minute objects that only frustrated him into oblivion. Yet, he continued to use them in hopes to explore different possibilities of mixtures, potions, and artifacts, but Draco had very small hope – in all that he did. Time had shown there were many components that were missing and he hadn't the slightest idea of what they could be. He was trying for something new, something different, something helpful. After many failed attempts, he was running low on supplies and needed to break away from the four stone walls.
"Loxley!" in a moment after being summoned, a house elf appeared directly behind Draco. He wore the same sour expression as most house elves, but the striking difference between him and others was his tall stature. "Merlin's beard!" Draco turned after recovering his jump, "Listen, what do you know of phoenix feathers and animal heartstrings? I am needing something to combine the two, but I can't seem to figure out what I am missing!" Loxley rolled his eyes very tiresomely.
"Sir," his voice was unusually soft, "if I may…take a walk for yourself. It'll be good for…" Draco flattened his face and Apparated before Loxley could finish his sentence.
As he strolled the semi-busy streets of Diagon Alley, he cursed his house elf, "Why did I ever agree to having a house elf that wants to speak his mind…what was I thinking? I don't need someone to tell me what is necessary…" Draco wandered aimlessly almost forgetting what he was doing in the first place – the crowded streets had no comparison with how crowded his mind had been. "Loxley just wants what is best, I suppose." It was challenging, but he tried to find a reason, but sometimes it was easier to revert to his past identity. "My father would not let this go, not for a second… but everything has changed since the war."
As his thoughts tugged back and forth, Draco found himself in a bookstore carelessly going through a cabinet of mixed potions and mixed matched books. Making his way through the cabinet multiple times, his frustration and annoyance only shredded the sliver of hope he thought he had. With a curled fist and clenched teeth, he pounded the cabinet top harder than anticipated, knocking a small glass bottle off the edge and sending it shattering to the floor. Blue liquid shot down the uneven rivets in the wooden boards and falling between the cracks into an unseen room down below. Sighing, he pulled his wand out and aimed it at the spill. It was doing nothing but mocking him as it slowly seeped through the cracks.
"Be careful!" someone commanded from behind, pulling him from the bitterness of failure that was beginning to fester.
In a blink, the liquid had been swept back into its bottle and then levitated back to its home on the shelf. The bitterness spoke for him, "Could you… oh, it's you." His eye roll said more than enough. "Of course, it had to be you." The Hermione Granger had to come from behind flicking her wand, showing she was always faster and wittier than everyone else. "I had this handled, Granger. No need to concern yourself." Three years after the war, and she was still slender, confident, and had a head full of curls that disobeyed their orders from Granger herself. She held the same manner Draco had remembered from school, however there was something different about her that he chose to ignore.
Granger stomped past Draco and begun to straighten up the cabinet, "It is my concern since it's my stuff." To his surprise, her voice wasn't as soft as it used to be. Out of all the unpleasant conversations they shared since they were eleven, Draco never heard harshness lace her words. The definition was tossed between harshness or callused, but he didn't want to ponder on it anymore, or at all.
Draco pushed her tone aside, and questioned "Excuse me? How is it 'your' stuff?" She pointed at the sign near the entrance coldly. "Granger's Gifts & Gadgets, huh. Well, I didn't find anything to my liking anyways." Draco took a final look around the shop acting as if he was sizing it up and left, leaving Hermione Granger in a ball of rage.
Hours after light had hidden itself from the world, Draco accepted the weights that were tied to his eyelids and forced him to find his bed and accept sleep. Only a few hours had crept through the night before he found himself wide awake staring at the ceiling in complete darkness. It was quieter than normal; there was no wind to push the branches into his window and Loxley must have been fast asleep because he couldn't hear anything down on the first floor. The only thing he heard clearly were his thoughts on the mixed brew he was trying to attempt.
"Maybe there is a potion that can connect the two instead of making a blend, or a spell." Draco tried as hard as he could to focus on what his Potions classes or any of the books had explained about brews. He couldn't even recall any sort of title to a book that described what he was searching for. "I might have passed with above average scores… everything in my later years was rather distracting." Bringing Hogwarts classes and grades to his memory, he randomly thought of who he had seen for the first time in years. "Absolutely not. I will not ask for her advice or assistance." Pride was strongly flowing through his veins; he angrily turned to lay on his side. "The war changed many views, but that doesn't mean I have to start liking everyone I come across. Especially Granger. Standing there too perfect for anybody. But was she really perfect?" He wanted his thoughtful comment to sound condescending, but it surprised him when it was truly concerning. "There might have been brokenness – serves her right, for always being too mighty. Talking with a victorious tone, but no… it wasn't. It sounded more… defeated? Defeated, that's what it was." Every other phrase he produced went against how he felt towards her. Yawning, he fought away any more thoughts that included Granger and tossed and turned until his body overpowered his mind and forced him to sleep.
The next day had held its own horrors and didn't give Draco any kind of warning nor sympathy. The emptiness and quietness of the house were too strong for his senses to handle and it showed in his work. There were more explosions and objects whizzing across the room that constantly displeased Draco. When he stepped back from his work, Loxley appeared directly in between Draco and the workbench, Draco swung a punch in defense. Expecting this, Loxley quickly moved to the side quick enough.
"Next time, you'll be too slow," Draco growled. "What is it?" Loxley handed him a plate of sliced sandwiches. Draco eased up when he finally heard his stomach grumble, "Oh, thanks." It was almost a hiss.
Loxley leaned on a workbench that held various sized books of many different subjects. Some gave insight on the magical sciences of creation on earth and in space, and gave different information on how to blend components equally and efficiently. There were a few other empty bottles that lay across the table in careless positions. Draco turned away from Loxley, sat and ate his late lunch. He stared at the many different components of his project and barely ate half the sandwich before Loxley spoke up.
"Uh hm," he coughed, "Mr. Malfoy, sir, how about acquiring assistance?" Draco pushed his light blonde hair back from his face and pivoted toward the outspoken house elf so he could show Loxley his annoyance. "You don't have to know everything." Draco was not amused that Loxley was acting more of a Butler than a common house elf servant.
Mistakes were made in Draco's past, and there were many that he had moved past. Except a more recent one; the slip of mentioning Granger to Loxley. Tension grew after the mention of her name, and Draco instantly knew he would regret it. The time was now when Draco realized he had been letting his guard down, creating less boundaries, and all it did was cause festering frustration. A certain respect had grown between the servant and master, however there were many instances – this being one of them – that Draco couldn't break. Loxley was rather intrigued with the visit, only causing greater regret with Draco. After many minutes of arguing with his house elf, Loxley finally had stepped down to his correct place and didn't ask about her again.
Time passed with the thickening silence only to welcome the night, ending another lousy and wasted day. Days dragged into weeks and he grew tired and more fearful. He kept to himself and tried to get things done without calling on Loxley. When Loxley would be in ear shot, he would hear Draco muttering, "I need to know this… if nothing else, this will be able to help." In the last couple of days of Draco's gruesome home work ethic, Loxley kept his distance. Loxley rather enjoyed his work for Mr. Malfoy but learned quickly to notice his master's temperament. Loxley knew when not to cross the line – no matter how many times he had touched it. Unfortunately, the need to assist and give Mr. Malfoy anything he wanted always triumphed over doing the sensible thing. One evening when dusk approached, Loxley created a plan to Apparate to Diagon Alley when Mr. Malfoy went up to his room after dinner.
Loxley's POV
It wasn't uncommon to see house elves roaming the streets of the wizarding world, but Loxley always stood out wherever he went. Being about a foot and a head taller than the rest, and having a strong egotistical complex encouraged others to stay away because they thought he was a bad omen or had been hexed. Loxley didn't mind being the outcast, and rather enjoyed being the only other person in the Malfoy Manor; it was quiet, lonely even, but he knew it worked best for him. Mr. Malfoy on the other hand, would not be comfortable in those conditions for much longer, and Loxley knew Mr. Malfoy needed friends or at least acquaintances, especially helpful ones.
Stores were flipping their signs, but 'Granger's Gifts & Gadgets' had many lights on and it's 'open' sign was still showing. Loxley traveled inside and poked his nose around. He heard a lady holler from the back that he had ten minutes before she closed. He rang the bell at the front counter to summon the person from the back.
"Hello, thank you for coming in," she greeted when she walked around the corner. Hermione's attitude changed when she saw it was a house elf. "Oh, what do you want then?" It was accustomed to Loxley to hear hostile slurs and witness rough attitudes, but it peeved him more when it came from Ms. Hermione Granger. He always heard she was different, but when he studied her, she was lean, and didn't have a lot of color in her cheeks. The frizz on her head was somewhat managed into a messy collection on the back of her head, which always stood out in all the stories he had heard. "What is it?"
Loxley cleared his throat, "My master needs something, but he doesn't know what it is." Ms. Granger raised an eyebrow and rested on the counter with one hand, unamused. Confidence was conveyed with his words, "You know what it is."
She blinked. "No I don't. Tell your master that I can do a lot of things, but reading minds isn't one of them." She didn't soften her squared shoulders or tense grip on the counter.
He sighed and tried to remember that he couldn't act the way he does towards Mr. Malfoy because other witches and wizards don't take it very well. He tried to smile, "Ma'am, he needs something in your shop, but he won't come, but if you – "
Cutting him off, she spoke louder, "Listen, if he can't do it himself then he really doesn't want it. Whatever lazy oaf you have of a master can either come get it himself or doesn't need to worry about such things! I am closing now, please get out!" This triggered Loxley; he snapped his fingers and the blinds closed, signed flipped, and door locked. "What are you doing, house elf?!" She yelled angrily. "Get out!"
"If I leave, so will you!" Loxley quickly reached over the counter and grabbed her wrist sending them both swirling and shifting through distance in a snap. When they reappeared to the normal and still world, Ms. Granger was flailing around and pulling herself from the despicable house elf. She yanked free and pulled out her wand from her pants back pocket. Nothing happened when she mumbled a spell and flicked her wand towards the ceiling. Her face was horrified. "Ma'am, listen. All I need you to do is find out what's missing. And stop flicking like that! This room is enchanted to where you can't do anything."
"Where are we!?" She didn't calm down. "Who lives here? Your master will not like this!"
He stood strong by the most used table and held his hand out, "Again, ma'am, all I need is for you to tell me the correct mixture," Ms. Granger caught the hint of worry in his voice, "it matters greatly." Loxley tried to stand still and not fidget, but he was too worried for his master and it had pinched a nerve that he couldn't be the one to give him what he needed.
Loxley kept an eye on her as she began to pace, analyzing the room. The dark and bleak room was completely closed in and held the absence of all exits – no doors or windows. "She must be searching for an exit," he thought. There were four tables and none of them organized, which seemed to bother Ms. Granger the most, but she fought hard not to touch anything.
"The coolness and the dampness, it reminds me of something but… what is it?" Her question was almost inaudible, but Loxley was about to hear a tingle of her good nature that leaked out of her anger. A glint of hope arose in Loxley as she slowly inched forward to where he pointed. He kept an eye on her tightened grip around her wand. "Tell me where we are and I might consider looking into it." Her demand was forced, and she saw how loyal Loxley was to the mysterious Master of his.
"A dungeon." His tone was flat.
Ms. Granger rolled her eyes and rubbed her face, "Will you let me go when I give it a look?"
A mischievous smile curled his lips that oddly resembled someone she couldn't place, "I will let you go when you tell me the missing ingredient."
Admitting defeat, she spoke loudly and with authority, "Fine. What is he wanting to make? What has he tried? What does he have for me to use?" Loxley got fidgety. "How in the world am I supposed to do this without any information?"
She started to search knowing the stubborn elf would not let her go without at least trying. Loxley saw something growing within Ms. Granger – no matter how hard she hid under the mask she wore. When she investigated the books and random potions that laid untidily across the tables in the musty room, there was a twist of curiosity but then immediately drowned out by bleakness, or maybe denial. Only a few magically lit torches illuminated the small and cramped room giving an ominous shadow across the tables and their contents. A black caldron on the side table had thin light blue liquid that continually spun and an odorless white mist spewed over the edges of from the top. Ingredients lay mixed and matched across the top of the table and there were many drawers that were carelessly closed or half opened because papers got stuck in the tracks of the desk. The combined knowledge of highly potent potions, meaningless dark artifacts, and mystical magical beings were shrouded in mystery.
Hermione's POV
Hermione moved over to the next table that seemed to be used the least. A leather bound book caught her eye and she was mesmerized at the picture that was engraved on the cover. A basilisk was twisted around a large sword that had many fancy jewels embedded on the hilt of it. The basilisk looked as if it was protecting the sword with its body rather than trying to constrict with harm. Trying to identify the sword, she thought it looked very similar to the sword of Godric Gryffindor. Her memory of what the sword looked like was too far back in her mind to come up with a certain conclusion. However, simply thinking about the sword gave her a chilled memory of a horrible night she had hoped to buried deep within. When she remembered the horrible night of torture in the Malfoy Manor many years ago by that evil witch, her expression began to betray her. The glare she held transformed as she fixated on the memory a bit longer and couldn't help feel the guilt boiling inside of her as she vividly remembered the outcome of that day. It was all supposed to be repressed and dealt with, apparently not.
"Ma'am?" Loxley broke her trance.
Hermione turned towards the elf, as she put the book down and started to slightly rub her left forearm. "What is it?"
"It's a matter of life and death, Ms. Granger. You're brilliant with any study, as far as I'm told."
Hermione saw the challenge, but didn't care to indulge in childish games anymore – it didn't peak her interest as much as it used to. "Look, if you give me something to go on, I can try to research it at home. Come to me after I close tomorrow and I promise I will let you know what I find." Loxley noticed the struggle it was for her to stay focused. He squinted at her, searching for truth and but could only find sorrow. With a quick snap, Hermione was standing behind the counter at her shop, alone and quiet – something she has grown accustomed to.
The next morning, Hermione took everything slow, and with extreme caution. She had hoped last night would have been an end to the house elf madness, but she knew that would be impossible. They were driven, and loyal; Hermione knew too much of this. Anticipation came with every chime from the bell that rested above the entrance of her shop. With every chime, she held her breath, but then released it when she saw it was just an ordinary witch or wizard. To her liking, her shop was empty of any house elves all day. The day wasn't hard, but instead long and tedious, and the longer she was out front the more she grumbled at owning a business.
At the end of some long days, Hermione would swirl into the darkness of her mind with an aching 'what if' question or a hurting thought of how things could be different, but she was determined not to be swallowed up by darkness. As she went to pull the blinds down and lock up physically and magically, she instead turned toward the hutch next to the front window. The bottle filled with thick blue liquid that was broken a couple of weeks ago, sat lonely on the shelf. Everything telling her to give up on the mysterious and criminal side quest the elf brought to her was ignored by the little itch of curiosity. Hermione's itch was as foreign as a goblin having a pleasant conversation. However, there it was, sitting in a tiny glass bottle with a cork top calling out to her. As she grabbed the bottle to examine it further, she blinked hard in realization. This was something she didn't want, something she gave up for the better, and just like that, Hermione Granger retreated once more behind a thick wall. Before she put the bottle back in its rightful home, Loxley appeared to her left.
"Ma'am hurry!"
In a flash, she was finding her footing in what seemed like a large bedroom. Darkness had blanketed the entire room. As her eyes adjusted she saw an outline of a very large black figure hovering above a motionless body lying on the floor. The figure was in ripped black robes that flowed even when the figure was motionless, and a hood covered its head and part of its face. Loxley tugged at Hermione's arm and pleaded for help as she stood there frozen in misconception.
"Ms. Granger! Your wand, ma'am!"
Hermione broke the fear that froze her recognizing the Dementor. She thought hard on a happy moment, and unfortunately it was difficult for her to do something that came so naturally to her many years ago. The figure was now inches above the motionless body on the floor sucking everything it could out of the poor being. Hermione gulped her fear down and pointed her wand at the Dementor and yelled, "Expecto patronum!" A bright blue light grew from the end of Hermione's wand as it got closer to hovering black figure. The otter that was created from the wisps and flutters of the white mist grew out of the charm and had raced around the fear-filled creature causing it to break from its victim and howl in disgust. Hermione's concentration was slowly fading and her charm was loosening its effect as the hooded figure turned her way. The more she tried to find happiness, the more she was beginning to fail. Her otter used everything it could to spin the attention of the Dementor away from its conjurer and when Hermione caught sight of her otter working as hard as it could, she then heard the laughter of joy and happiness from her past.
She stood her ground and whipped her wand, along with the charm, out towards the open window. The Dementor was captured in the otter's path and was forced outside and into the darkness. Hermione dropped to her knees taking in slow breaths. Happiness rang through her body, her veins, but not her emotions. Capturing the darkness not only drained its victim, but it drained her in another way. The difficult reminder of retrieving those powerful memories left her in despair.
Hermione flicked her wand and magically lit the room with light. The objects that were recovered throughout the room, gave her a place of distinction. The bedroom was large enough to hold a king size bed, three dressers and cabinets and a highly used desk that sat by the door. A door to her right that was completely open showing an outline of a bathroom. Decorations in the room were slim, but she could tell the room held more value in it than what she held dear in her flat. Her exploration was interrupted by a cry.
"Master! Please!" Loxley was knelt down at the side of his master who wore a pair of Muggle dark grey sweatpants and a very thin plain white T-Shirt. Hermione approached slowly, assessing the scene. "Master, come on you lazy oaf!" Hermione was taken aback when she heard the elf call his master a negative name. Loxley kept yanking on the body and there was finally slow movement. Hermione peeked her head around Loxley's shoulder and caught the unconscious man's identity.
"Malfoy?" Hermione almost choked on his name.
Hey lovely people! Thank you for taking your time and reading the first part (to many!) of my first long - short Dramione story! I'm super excited (also very nervous...) to get this complete for all of you. Please stay tuned and comment and tell me what you think :) It'll keep me motivated and encouraged to keep going.