Chapter 13

"Fuck!"

Draco scrambled to his feet and ran for his door. Before flinging it open, he stopped and listened one more time. Nothing. Maybe he didn't need to go over there after all. Maybe he had been hallucinating after waking up from the shortened sleep cycle induced by a sleeping potion. There are all kinds of warnings out there, saying to make sure you have at least eight hours of dedicated time after taking the potion if you don't want to experience any multitude of side-effects. He dropped his hand from the handle, standing inches from his door with a racing heart and unclear mind. That's what it was, he didn't actually hear her-

The blood drained from his face as she screamed again quickly followed by another wall shaking crash. Draco was out of the door and running down his steps before a coherent thought ran through his head. A handful of times. That's the amount of times he's heard her scream like that. It was the stuff of his nightmares. A sound he never thought he'd hear again, a sound he hoped he'd never have to hear again.

For most, hearing a scream is the worst part of witnessing torture. The release of such an agonizing sound of someone asking, begging, pleading for the pain to stop, curdles blood and makes the skin crawl. It serves as fuel for nightmares months or years after the fact, and every time your mind makes you relive the event, the worse it gets. The scream gets louder, longer. It echoes off the walls and vibrates the ground to chill your bones. Screams can make you feel like you're being dropped to the bottom of the Antarctic or like you're being set ablaze with blue flames. Screams mean the person is still alive. In their own personal hell, but alive. Screams are a cruel punishment for those not actively being tortured, but silence is worse.

Silence is deafening. The world and time stop. There is no ice, no chills, no flames, no churning of blood. Silence doesn't echo from the walls and bring people running. Silence won't turn your bones to glass or keep you awake at night. The absence of the screams makes you aware and throws you into fight or flight. It makes you focus on the things you normally wouldn't, the sounds of your breath going in and out of your nose, the feeling of your heart threatening to burst a hole in your chest. Silence makes you aware of the smell fear cast thickly into air. Silence means that the person can no longer scream, no longer move, beg, or plead.

Silence means death.

Silence was worse than a scream for Draco, and that's what he heard now. The scream of her being tortured, then silence. At least when she was in the manor, he could see that she was still breathing. Small sobs could be heard as he watched tears roll down her face. When she wasn't screaming, he knew she was still alive. He didn't know that now. There were no more sounds, no more spells being fired to vibrate the wall, no more screaming, just silence.

Without a second thought, Draco ran out of his flat leaving his door open, clad in only his pajama pants. His bare feet carried him up the outside steps two at a time. A hand shot out to grab the frame, keeping him from slipping on the frozen iron steps before he reached the door. Her flat door was locked and a well-placed 'bombarda' allowed him easy entrance.

His first thought was it was snowing inside. Eyes skimmed through the falling ash for a body, but he found nothing. A hand reached out and grabbed a falling singed piece of paper that read Hogwarts: A History. He clinched his fist and continued further into the flat, eyes racing over the destruction of the small living space. When he found nothing below, he padded up the steps littered with glass and ash, leaving evidence of his careful footfalls. Knuckles were standing out white as he gripped his wand, pushing pieces of broken bookshelf out of the walkway of the second level. The scorch marks that blackened the white brick made his blood run cold while he scanned over the shattered picture frames, ripped books, and cloud of feathers torn from the duvet. His eyes moved from the broken bed to the bathroom door hanging off a hinge and a shiver ran up his spine.

A fraction of a second, a blink of his eyes, a handful of rapid heartbeats, that's all it took for him to take in the sight before him. The broken mirror. The overflowing sink. The mess of brown curls sprawled on the floor. The thin river of blood flowing towards him that originated from beyond her mane. Pushing the door open enough to allow him entrance he made his way to her. Slamming his knees into the tile, he leaned forward to check her breathing and pulse. Having not finished healers training, there was not much he could do, but he was competent enough to know if she was seriously injured or not. And he knew that if she wasn't, there would be no need to take her to St. Mungo's, which he knew she would be thankful for when she woke up in the morning and this had passed.

As soon as his fingers landed on her neck, a small electric shock emanated from his fingers and he snatched his hand away. Hesitant fingers found their way back to the side of her neck. Where the electricity had been was now emanating comforting warmth, but he chalked that up to being able to confirm she had a strong pule, even if it was much more erratic than it should be. Blood flowed from her forehead, but the laceration looked superficial. Draco examined the rest of her body and was satisfied that she was not injured further.

With cautious hands, he pushed her curls away from the blood and a small moan escaped her lips. Draco released a breath he hadn't know he was holding as her eyes began to flutter open. He sat back on his heels and gave her space to catch her breath and gather her surroundings.

"Wh… what… what happened?" her shaking fingers were fumbling across her head looking for the source of what must have been a throbbing pain. When her fingers came back covered in blood, terror clear in her eyes, she tried to sit up.

"I was hoping you could tell me." He said in a gentle tone reaching out to help her. Instead of accepting his help, she jumped, and her head snapped to look at him with wide eyes.

Emotions battled against each other for a place on her natural face until finally confusion won out. "What are you doing?"

Scrambling, she tried to push herself up the wall she was leaning on to stand, eyes darting around looking for her wand. Her breathing began to quicken and beads of sweat formed on her forehead, mixing with the blood, and threatening to fall into her fear darkened eyes. She began to sidestep without grace while her hands remained flat against the wall behind her leaving traces of blood smeared on the beige paint as she stumbled towards the door. His stomach turned, the tail of red reminding him of the dream he had of his mother and the snake.

The realization that she was beginning to panic hit him, he softened his tone more, "Granger, I'm not here to hurt you."

He set his wand on the counter and showed her the palms of his hands as he took a few steps away from her. "I heard the screams. I just wanted to make sure you were okay." He explained as she continued to slide her way towards the broken door of the small room, back firmly against the wall to offer her any security she could get.

"You broke into my home." He hated to see her this scared, and no matter how many times he helped her through it, it was never easier to stomach. Eyes still wide, her breath was becoming dangerously fast and shallow. He knew that if she kept the rate up, she would hyperventilate and end up passing out again. He pivoted to maintain eye contact with her but didn't make a step to go closer to her.

"Granger… please, you need-"

Without warning, she turned and ran.

Bare feet and legs carried her out of the room before Draco had a chance to grab her arm. "Shite." He snatched his wand off the counter and ran after her, expecting her to be halfway out of the door already. He had to stop short when he saw her standing in the middle of the loft staring at a broken picture frame. Cautiously, not wanting her to take off running again – especially outside in nothing but an oversized jumper – he made his way to stand in her line of view. Her unwavering attention was on the photo as a tear fell down her cheek, not paying attention to the man before her.

During their year in Hogwarts, he would have been able to reach out and wipe the tear away, pull her into a hug and tell her she was okay, but it's been five years. He had not helped her through something like this for five years. Guilt crippled him. The possibility of her still having episodes like this had never occurred to him. The letters she had sent him never mentioned anything other than her being angry he was gone. He ignored her. He ignored her questions and feelings without telling her the reason he left or how long he was going to be gone. To further infest the wound he left, he ignored her at his mother's funeral. To say he was not surprised with the cold greeting he got when he first saw her would be an understatement. The fact she had started talking to him as a friend again at all was the most surprising part of it all and he knew he didn't deserve it, but was selfish enough to accept it without openly questioning her. Even if it began through the obligation and distraction of work.

These moments, these memories, these were the times he saw how truly selfish he was. He had told himself he was leaving to become a better person, to make up for all the damage his family had done. Hindsight showed him that wasn't true. He had left because it was easier. If selfless reason were truly the reason, he could have stayed home, in London, with newly formed friendships and the possibilities of more. Stayed with his mother who was still learning to cope without Lucius at home and potentially protected her. But he didn't. He had gotten scared. The moment he realized that his final year at Hogwarts had been a pleasant bubble of isolation and he was about to be thrown into the real world with everyone that still hated him and his family, he ran. Looking at Hermione now, he knew it was nothing but selfish. That year was more difficult for her than most, and she had begun to rely on him, trust him, and he had abandoned her. As much hatred as he had towards Sebastian for cheating on her, Draco was no better. He didn't deserve her friendship or anything else any more than Sebastian did.

Brown eyes, glossy with tears, elevated from the picture at a painfully slow pace causing him to acknowledge the fact he was shirtless, and all of his scars were on full display to her for the first time since one drunken night over the holidays five years ago. When their eyes finally met, hers no longer wide and dilated with fear, he knew she was finally seeing him for the first time that night. Lucidity had taken hold again, and another tear fell down her cheeks.

The urge to grab her was stronger than it had ever been before, but he forced his arms to stay by his side. She looked broken, defeated, like she had when arguing with Sebastian, and he wanted more than anything to figure out what happened so he could try to fix it, if he could fix it.

"It's been years." She choked out as she walked to sit in a pile of feathers on the corner of her broken bed, still gripping the picture in her hand. Her body began to shake with silent sobs and she dropped the picture to cover her face.

Episodes like this were hard on her, this much he knew. So much magic and so many emotions would flood forward and overwhelmed her. She would likely be in bed for days after one this bad, especially if it was the first one in years. So, instead of saying anything to her, instead of walking to her or sitting next to her, he was going to let her have the time she needed to gather herself and do what she needed during this part.

Where he preferred to clean up his own messes – alone – she hated seeing the destruction she was capable of. Especially when she worked so hard to control herself, to make herself acceptable to the wizarding world, seeing the extent of the damage she could inflict made her feel like she wasn't worthy of having magic anymore.

"How can I be allowed to have something I can't control?" She asked him through heavy sobs. "This is the third time in a week. What do I do?"

"You're more than capable of harnessing this much raw power." Draco sat next to her on the floor at the foot of her destroyed bed. He pulled his legs up and rested his arms over his knees looking sideways at her.

"You can't honestly believe that. I'm a muggleborn, remember." She laughed through another sob. "I don't deserve magic."

"That's bullshite and you know it." Draco's tone was harsh making her sobs stop suddenly. He sighed when he saw her brows pull together. "Think of it as a test."

"A test?" she wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.

"Yes, Granger. A test. You like those, right?" he rolled his eyes at the effect her hand swipe had, smearing the remains of her black make-up under her eyes more than it already was. He reached out and wiped it away without thinking. When her eyes went wide, he pulled his hand back and looked at the smoldering tapestries in the middle of the floor.

"A test from your magic. You've always had more than most, but it's just now letting you harness more of it. If it didn't think you could, it wouldn't have allowed you access to it."

"It made a mistake." She sniffled. "Look what I do with it when I get scared." She gestured around the destroyed room.

"No, it didn't."

After fixing the bookshelf that served as a faux wall against the rod iron railing of her loft, he repaired her books, bed, linens, and paintings before going downstairs to fix the damage below. A simple frame of blackened wood on her mantle held a picture of the two of them from graduation and he paused to appreciate the smile on her face. Watching the image play out, he saw Blaise in the background bowing to Luna as Theo, Ginny, and Harry laughed. He had forgotten she made him take this picture and felt his heart skip a beat when he realized it was in full view of anyone, anyone, that came into her home. Once he finished repairing all damages that occurred, he fixed them both some tea, adding some whiskey to hers as she did for him and brought it up to her.

She had worked her way to sit against the headboard and the repaired duvet was covering her bare legs, something Draco had mixed feelings about but figured it was for the best, the picture she had been looking at lay still broken on the nightstand next to her. After handing her the cup, he picked up the photo.

It was a muggle photo of a young Hermione, around the age of 10, and her parents standing in a darkened room with a window into a large tank holding several species of jellyfish in the background. SEA LIFE AQUARIUM was painted on the wall next to them and the unasked question that was always floating around his mind at the lab was answered. He fixed the glass before sitting next to her on the other side of the bed.

The sound of her head resting against the headboard met his ears and he turned to looked at her. Still in her oversized green jumper, it was clear she tried to pull her hair out of her face, but the elastic band was doing a poor job. Wisps of curls kept escaping and she would absently brush them out of her face keeping her eyes closed and hands wrapped around the warm mug.

"Do you want me to heal that?" He asked after watching her steady breaths for several minutes.

She opened her eyes and lowered her head to look at him before nodding. He moved closer and placed a gentle hand on her check to hold her steady as he healed the laceration then cleaned the blood away. He locked eyes with her and wiped away a tear with his thumb before removing his hand. He set his wand down on the other side table before resting his own head on the headboard and watching the woman next to him. Snow was still falling outside, and some had begun to pile on the ledge of the window. It was a serene sight, Draco though, as he listened to the fire crackle from the living room and the now steady breathing of the woman next to him, his eyelids began to close.

"It's been years." She said again pulling him from his daze. He opened his eyes and saw her looking at him. "It's your fault."

Squeezing his eyes closed, he took a breath before looking back at her with furrowed brows, he asked, "My fault?" His voice was soft, heavy with wanting sleep, but he genuinely wanted to know how he had been the cause of this episode, but he wasn't going to ask directly, that wouldn't be fair to her. Not with the agreement they had with each other.

"Yes." Was all she said as she took a sip of her tip. "You put whiskey in it."

"It's what your dad used to do." She gave him a small, sad smile and took another drink.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Hermione's parents. The only topic that seemed to be completely restricted. She never talked about them, or about what happened to them. While in school he asked around, asked Ginny and Luna. The only thing they would say was that it was complicated and that she would talk when she was ready. Where he knew that was true, it didn't stop him from wanting to know. He was selfish after all. There were days he would find her staring at pictures crying. When he would asked about it, she would yell and lock herself in her room. He remembered meeting, well seeing, them once just before their second year. They seemed nice enough, scared – especially after meeting Draco's father – but nice. He knew they were doctors in the muggle world and that meant they were considered higher society, and that had been important to him at one point in his life. Now it didn't seem to matter one bit. He just wanted her to know she could still talk to him, the way she used to. But again, it was selfish of him to think she would.

He pulled his head away from the headboard to get a better look at her, even as she looked away from him. Drinking another sip of tea, she turned to put it on the nightstand and pulled on the duvet bringing it to rest on her stomach. Pink had tinged her cheeks and she began to mess with the stitching of the blanket. He wanted to tell her that she shouldn't be embarrassed by anything that might have caused her magic to expand, it was doing so to make sure she was strong enough to protect herself, but she already knew that. It was something the two of them researched extensively during their free periods.

What didn't make any sense to Draco is at Hogwarts, they had been triggered by memories of the war, of Bellatrix, of the deaths of friends. Never did she claim a living person was the cause of a break, specifically him. He had attempted to understand, or at least empathize. The dreams, terrors, the worst parts of the war, every curse, blade, and death could be felt as if it was all happening over again; especially walking through the parts of the castle that wasn't completely restored.

Draco's demons then had been mental torture, for the most part. For years before the final battle, he had to watch as others were killed and tortured. His only physical pain had been when Voldemort used Cruciatus, but for him, that was still mainly mental. Telling himself that the pain was just in his head and he could fight it. So, he never made a sound. Then there was when he was forced to take the mark. He went to pull down the sleeve of his shirt only to realize it wasn't there, so he clasped his hand over it to block it from view.

For Hermione, though, she had to endure as much physical pain as mental torture. The first time he had been there to help her through it, she broke down and told him what she had seen. She explained to him that she thought Bellatrix was back. That she was back in the manor and having to fight for her life and the life of Harry and Ron. It had sent chills down his spine when she explained how it was actually worse the second time around. How she felt everything this time because Draco hadn't been there. He hadn't been able to block out the pain and he wasn't whispering to her through their connection that she would make it, that she had to make it.

Delicate hands were twisting in her lap as she watched them, pulling more and more of the blanket into the bundle between her fingers. He was about to reach out to her, guilt pulling him back under its frigid waters, but he stopped himself.

"I'm sorry." His voice was barely above a whisper.

Silent tears were still streaming down her face, but she probably hadn't even noticed at this point. He longed for the relationship they had five years ago and was beginning to hate himself even more for severing it without a true reason other than he was a coward.

"I have dreamless sleep in the bathroom… if I didn't break it." She smoothed out the blanket and let her head fall back against the headboard. When neither of them moved, she turned to look at him, "You should probably take some. I know you haven't been sleeping."

A huff of a laugh escaped as he stood up to check the bathroom, luckily, she had only broken one of her vials of the potion and he was able to make her a new cup of tea and put that in it instead of whiskey this time. She drank it in two gulps and slid down into her covers. When Draco went to tell her that he was going to go she grabbed his wrist with as much force she could muster.

"Stay." Voice heavy with oncoming sleep. "Please."

"Are you sure?" it wasn't that he didn't want to. He usually always stayed until she fell asleep, but this was different. They weren't in school anymore. He wanted to stay, but he didn't want to have Sebastian walk in and make things worse nor did he want to make her uncomfortable, especially with the way they were both dressed at the moment.

"Yes. I'm positive." She nestled her head into her pillow and closed her eyes. "And don't go all gentlemanly on me. It's too cold for you to sleep on top of the covers like you used to do."

"Yes, ma'am"

He saw a small smirk cross her lips before sleep completely took her over and he laid next to her, under the duvet but still on top of the sheet she was under. He wasn't going to drink more potion even if there was enough for them both, he'd already had enough plus if something happened, he wanted to be able to protect her.

Music pulled him with gentle hands from the warmth of his slumber. Rolling over and he slung his arm over a pillow with a groan. Why could he hear music? Pulling the pillow closer to him, he buried his face to stop the rays of the November morning sun from waking him up further.

Mmm, vanilla.

His eyes shot open. This wasn't his bed. In a rush, the previous night flooded back into his mind and he sat up in Hermione's bed allowing the blanket to pool around his waist. Her side was empty and the pillow he had just buried his face into had been the one she was sleeping on. She had taken such a large dose of potion; he had no idea how she was awake before him. The music he had heard in his transition between asleep and awake was drifting up from the kitchen area advertising where she was.

Looking around, he searched for something he could transfigure into a large enough shirt for himself but found nothing. He shouldn't have fallen asleep here, especially without proper clothing on. Obviously, he was beyond the pureblooded ideals based on what he had been doing with Astoria for the last several months, but Hermione was different. When he finally gave up looking for a shirt, he glamoured his mark, and made his way downstairs. The smell of bacon welcomed him.

He rounded the corner and his breath caught in his throat. She was still in her oversized green jumper from the night before, what he had not realized was that it was an old Slytherin jumper. Specifically, his old jumper. At least she had put something over her knickers he had tried not to look at the night before, but the tight spandex shorts she wore that showed off the inviting curves of her hips and arse were not much better. His entrance being drowned out by the music coming from the wireless next to her allowed him a chance to sit down behind the counter and adjust his pants. He was going to blame it on it being right after he woke up and not that he found her as attractive as he did.

The song changed, and she began singing – off key – to the turner she had in her hand and began to sway her hips to the beat. She tossed a hand in the air before spinning around. When she saw Draco sitting down, she screamed and dropped the utensil on the ground.

"Morning" Draco said raising one eyebrow as a deep red covered her cheeks.

"How long have you been sitting there?"

"Long enough. I believe that's mine." He lifted his chin towards here.

"You gave it to me."

"I let you borrow it. It was meant to be for that one game then given back."

She just shrugged and turned back to the stove and began plating the breakfast she made. Eggs, bacon, and toast overwhelmed the small plate she shoved in front of him next to the cup of coffee, jam, and sugar. As soon as she sat down, she began eating and Draco observed. This was not what the morning after an episode typically was. Normally, she was in bed for several days after and she wouldn't talk to anyone for at least half a day.

When she noticed he wasn't eating, she stopped and raised her eyebrows in an unspoken question.

"I'm not much of a breakfast person." He admitted and took another sip of the coffee.

"Eat anyway." She pointed to his plate with her fork with aggressive force before she turned back to her own food.

The silence of the room was only broken by the scraping of silverware on plates and the clanking of cups being set down and the tension between the two of them could have been cut with the spoon Draco used to stir sugar into his cup.

"Are you-" He started.

"When were you going to tell me?" She asked over him.

The mug in his hand was set down carefully while his eyes stayed trained on the white brick behind the stove. He wasn't sure what she was referring to, but he knew there were several things that had crossed his mind over the last five years that would constitute her asking him that question. A feeling in his stomach made him think he knew exactly what she was asking, but he wasn't going to reveal anything unless he had to.

"Tell you what?" He avoided looking at her. He wouldn't be able to hide the thought that was at the forefront of his mind right now. He raised a leg to rest on the bar on the stool below him and adjusted himself into a better angle.

"Draco." He couldn't stop his eyes from cutting to her, "When were you going to tell me you knew Bash?"

"If it became relevant." He said with an eye roll. Of course, it was about that wanker. The real question was, how did she find out?

"It's relevant." She said gathering up both of their plates before walking to the sink on the other end of the island. Pushing up the far too long sleeves, she rinsed off the dishes, walked in front of him before resting her elbows on the counter and putting her chin in her hands.

"I met him years ago and an ocean away." Draco sighed, "I never expected to see him again. Not here. Especially not…" He snapped his mouth shut and looked into her chocolate eyes.

"Take it down." She said.

He narrowed his eyes at her. She was shite at legilimens, so he knew she wasn't going to do that, but he still didn't feel comfortable letting all of his emotions about Sebastian Reeves come roaring to the surface. "No."

"Why?"

When he opened his mouth to answer, there was a knock on the door and confusion crossed her face before she went to walk towards the door.

"Please don't answer the door like that." Draco pleaded before she could walk far enough away from the counter to make her hips and legs visible.

"Why?"

Giving her a stern look, he shook his head, and stood. When he opened the door, he wished he would have left as soon as he woke up, like he had planned before he saw Hermione. There were so many people that flashed in Draco's mind when he heard the knock, thinking it might be anyone but the person that was standing in front of him at the moment. Her black dress was tighter than he thought would ever be possible for a person to wear, and the heels didn't look like anything anyone should be able to walk in, especially in snow.

"Why… what?"

"I can ask you the same thing." Her voice was full of mirth and the twinkle in her dark eyes made her look devilish. "Especially dressed like that." Her eyes traveled down his bare torso before settling on his left forearm where they both knew the mark should be visible. She pushed herself past him when he didn't say anything and Hermione ran right to her, embracing her into a hug.

He'd seen Hermione embrace all of her closest friends in such a manor, but he had never in his life seen Pansy Parkinson accept such an over the top greeting. She was typically the poster woman for pureblood traditions, which explained the way she dressed for the most part, but he couldn't stop his jaw dropping while he watched the two women fawn over each other.

"You forgot, didn't you?" Pansy wined.

"I didn't, I just lost track of time. Last night was rough." Hermione said. "Give me like twenty minutes." At that, she ran upstairs leaving Draco alone with Pansy in her kitchen.

Finally shutting the front door, he followed Pansy into the living room where she sat in one of the unmatching armchairs and crossing her ankles as well as her wrists. She tilted her head and gave him a condescending smile. Watching him silently as he sat on the couch across from her.

"I wasn't expecting this to happen… yet." She finally said when it was clear Draco wasn't going to talk first.

"What are you on about?"

"Why are you here, Draco?" She ignored his question without a second thought, "Is she still with Bash?"

"As far as I know."

"So, you're not here for that then."

"Pansy." Draco warned. "You know better than anyone, I would never."

She didn't say anything to that but offered a closed smile before looking down to examine her nails. They sat in silence until Hermione could be heard rummaging through something. Eventually, she made her way back downstairs, causing both Draco and Pansy to stand back up. Hermione was wearing tight dark jeans that hugged her curves just as well as the spandex had before, a white long sleeve shirt and a brown leather jacket. A lump formed in his throat while she finished the braid that was hanging over her shoulder. She caught him looking at her and flashed a brilliant smile.

"Is this okay, Pans?"

"It'll work, I suppose." Pansy said with a smirk on her face looking at Draco.

"Well, you're the one that's supposed to have all the attention. Not me."

"Oh, I don't know how much attention I'll be getting." Pansy laughed finally looking at Hermione. "Boots?"

"Just here."

"Where are you guys going?" Draco finally asked, watching Hermione search her closet for the boots she was referring to.

"Pre-release." Hermione called.

"My book is to be published next year. I'm doing a reading at a Hatchards. It's like a pre-release event to get people interested in it."

"That's a muggle store." Draco turned his attention onto Pansy. "Bloody hell, Pansy, that's brilliant." He offered her a genuine smile which she returned.

"Thanks." Sadness crept into her eyes, "I just wish Marcus could be here. He was also so patient with me. Writing took up so much time, that's why we hadn't gotten married, yet. It seems …" A tear fell down her cheek and Hermione quickly wiped away.

"He would be so proud of you. Just like we are, isn't that right Draco."

"Without a doubt."

Pansy squared her shoulders and blinked her eyes dry. "Thank you. Now. Are you ready?" She ran her hands over her dress, ironing out the non-existent wrinkles.

Confirming she was, Hermione looped her arm through Pansy's and guided them towards the door. Draco followed behind them allowing her to lock up her flat. When he bid them good- bye, Hermione apparated quickly, but Pansy lingered.

"Draco." She said catching his attention before he went through his door. "Don't miss opportunities." She said.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm just saying, it's amazing what can be forged after a war burns down the walls that didn't need to be there."

Before he could ask her why she had said that particular phrase the way she did, she was gone. Pansy had always been in the middle of everything, would it surprise him that she knew about the prophecy? No, it wouldn't. But it still didn't make sense why she had said it then or what she was referring to. One thing was for sure though, he needed to go over that prophecy line by line and try to figure it out. Before someone else got hurt or killed, if he were to believe what Luna had suggested about everything revolving around it.

Coming back to London had been because of a personal goal to avenge his mother's death, and he was still going to get that revenge, even if it took the rest of his life. But right now, there was a murderer on the loose and that is what he needed to focus on. He needed to catch that killer because that was the only way he was going to be able to continue to have the resources to find his mother's murderer.

He sat in the silence of his flat the entire day, looking out at the tranquil, snow filled street trying to understand the more obscure lines of the prophecy. He could go to Luna, but there was not much she would be able to tell he apart from what he already had. Glaring at the paper in front of him, he took another swig of his drink hoping that he wouldn't get too pissed that the paper would catch on fire. Theo popped up in the outskirts of the streetlight and made his way into Draco's flat without even a hint of a knock.

"That manor is far too large to be alone." Theo said handing Draco a bottle of muggle beer he had acquired and wanted to try.

"One of the reasons I got a flat." Draco said running his hand through his hair still staring at an obscure line in the prophecy.

"What is that?"

"If I were to tell you, it'll just add onto the number of things you can't talk about." Draco sighed but handed the paper to Theo, nonetheless. Draco watched the pedestrians on the street before him and admired how light-hearted they all seemed to be. None of them aware there was a killer on the loose, not that that particular killer would go after them even if they did know. How lucky they must feel to be able to walk down the street without a second thought. The sound of Theo pacing his living room gave away when he had been able to easily figure out a part of the puzzle and when he was completely stumped.

"So, this is obviously about you." Theo said after Draco was sure the man had walked a hole into his wooden floors. "You ever think that the friend being foul is Sebastian?"

"How can it be? I don't consider him a friend."

"True." Theo jostled his hair and continued to pace. Draco grabbed them both another beer, and sat on the couch, peeling at the label. "Traditions are eradicated… purebloods. Pureblood traditions." Theo's hazel eyes looked more grey than blue when he looked at Draco. "They are related. So far it's only been purebloods killed. And it goes with cleansing the pure."

"What reven- traditions. My mother!" Draco jumped off the couch and ran back to his desk pulling out his mother's letter. She knew of the prophecy; Lucius said so in his journal. "Not all traditions need to continue. She knew!"

The two friends went back and forth between Narcissa's letter and the prophecy for several more hours, working their way through the beer Theo brought with him. Once the friends worked their way through a majority of the prophecy, they got to the line that Pansy had reminded him of earlier that day.

"We need to talk to Potter." Draco said.

"Really? I didn't think you'd-" When Draco pointed to the line about bonds being forced by fire, "The war."

Theo started laughing. Loud, wall shaking laughter that caused him to double over holding his stomach. Laughing. "Pott… fuck… proph…" unable to form a complete word, he collapsed onto the couch and held onto the stich that had formed in his side.

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "Can you be serious for once in your life?"

Tear were falling out of Theo's eyes as he looked at Draco, still laughing but able to catch his breath between chuckles. After five more minutes of him trying to control his bursts of laughter he looked at Draco with an attempted serious face and said, "Even when a prophecy is about you…" he paused to laugh again, "It's still about Potter."

"I fucking hate you."

AN: Oh man, it feels so good to post a new chapter! I've hated not being able to stay consistent lately. Probably didn't help that I've rewritten this chapter so many times! I swear this was one of the hardest chapters for me. It is one of the longer chapters (I'm trying to make up for not posting in a while) and I hope you enjoy.

If you've noticed, there is a reference to something that happened in the past between Draco and Hermione ibefore/i their 8th year. This is referrencing my take on how Hermione's torture scene went while they were held at Malfoy Manor during the war. I have written a one shot in Draco's POV of these scene, so if you are curious, please feel free to look into that story as well. It is titled Malfoy Mysteries: Malfoy Manor One Shot.

Regarding reviews: believe it or not, your reviews help fuel my muse! I love hearing from you all and it keeps me excited to post more! As you know from previous AN I had outlined 30 chapters, that being said - i've drifted off my outline a bit so I can't promise there will be 30, but it is also a possibility there might be more.

I love knowing you are all following along and hope you are also following the IG account for this story. If not, check it out CRMcCarthy.

Also A shoutout to BlueEyedSue! Thank you for reading over everything and giving me wonderful insight. I know I posted this final version of the chapter without you checking it again, but I hope you enjoy!