After two and a half years of avoiding his ancestral home entirely, Draco found himself staring up at the untouched facade. Malfoy Manor looked the same as it always had, yet nausea roiled in the pit of his stomach at the swelling of memories that crashed over him.
He could already feel a headache begin to settle in.
The ordeal of seeing the manor again, however, was the second of his two greatest concerns. The healers attending to his mother had already arranged a room for her to stay, and one of them would be living in the manor around the clock in the event of any unforeseen issues.
Draco was grateful for their thorough preparations, but St Mungo's was neutral territory. The manor felt like the embodiment of most of Draco's nightmares.
According to Healer Brooks, the team had discovered the cause of her sudden and vicious illness, and Draco wasn't certain whether he was more or less reassured now that they knew the root of the issue.
A rare and poorly understood sickness that targetted the magical core of a person. He didn't know what to make of the matter, and every healer he'd spoken to had been unable to give him any proper answers regarding treatment and prognosis. The only thing he heard was that the disease could cause a slow deterioration of the core, and the thought had settled within him like ice.
Healer Brooks had been quick to assure him that they would be doing their best to restore her health and to cut off the insidious ailment at the pass.
Draco wasn't sure whether he believed any of them.
But there was nothing he could do at the moment beyond rely on the healers' expertise, and the idea of it left him uneasy.
He strode into the manor, feeling an intrusive frisson chase down his spine as he crossed the threshold of the wards. Despite the years since he had last been home, the ancient blood magic embedded in the foundation itself welcomed him as Patriarch of the house.
He didn't care about any of it, not since blood fanaticism had torn his life and family apart.
The halls of the manor were as quiet as they had been the last time, but still, the corridors were haunted with memories, and Draco found himself looking over his shoulder at every turn.
Cold, malicious laughter danced in the back of his mind; the slithering of a massive snake along the marble floors caused a shudder to race through him.
None of it was real anymore, but the sounds were always close to the surface of his memory.
Not long after Draco returned to England following the completion of his NEWTs, he had moved into the small flat that had become his home. After months of waking in a cold sweat―on nights when he had even been able to sleep―he couldn't stand it anymore.
And now, returning for his mother felt like an effort to withhold the memories that threatened to encroach.
Not one room hadn't been soiled by the Dark Lord's presence in the manor. Still, his feet led him through the labyrinthine halls towards the main floor wing where his mother's makeshift hospital room had been arranged. As he neared, a pair of healers bustled past, offering him matching smiles that didn't quite reach their eyes.
He could only imagine how they felt about being relegated to Malfoy Manor. "Good day," he murmured, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets as he walked into his mother's room. She was disoriented but awake, and a lazy smile drifted across her face as Draco ducked in to brush a kiss against her temple.
"Draco," she said, gazing up at him. "You've come to visit me."
"Of course," he clipped, glancing around the usually vacant bedroom. It was almost unrecognisable from the last time he had seen it; machines and instruments had been set up around the bed, and the pungent scent of potions hung in the air. "It looks like they've got you set up well."
His mother scoffed, lifting a brow. "They might have at least allowed me the comforts of my own room."
"It makes more sense for you to be on the ground floor," Draco said patiently, "and near the exits. You know they can't Apparate from within the wards without you alongside if anything happens."
"So they say," Narcissa mused, "but I happen to prefer―"
"Please be nice to your healers, Mother," he drawled, feeling the pressure mount behind his temples. Just breathing the blasted air in the manor left him anxious and short of breath. "They know what's best for you―and we're paying plenty for their presence on the ground floor."
She only pursed her lips. "Yes, Draco."
"That's the spirit," he quipped, holding tight to the sharp edge of himself that wanted to scream.
The pair of healers returned, checking several diagnostics, and one of them looked to Draco with a pointed stare. "We'll need to run some tests shortly, Mister Malfoy, if you don't mind stepping out."
"That's fine," he said. "Thank you for everything. I appreciate it."
The woman's smile softened. "Of course. We'll do our best to see she's comfortable and well cared for."
Narcissa muttered something under her breath that Draco didn't catch; it was probably for the best. He paced from the room, feeling his heart clamour a frantic rhythm in his chest as he slipped into the parlour down the hall. He drew a long breath in, letting it fall from his lungs as he assessed the room.
A crystal decanter of aged Firewhisky sat on the cart as it always had, and Draco eyed the bottle for a moment before pouring a generous measure.
Then he threw a handful of Floo powder from the mantle into the grate and called out 'Nott Manor'. Moments later, Theo's wide-eyed face appeared in the flames.
"What the hell are you―" His eyes narrowed in on the tumbler in Draco's hand, and his face vanished. Draco smirked and took a sip from the glass, then poured another just as Theo walked through the grate, brushing the soot from his shirtsleeves. He gazed around the parlour, incredulous. "You are at Malfoy Manor."
"They moved Mother here today," Draco announced, offering the second glass to his friend.
Theo grimaced and took a sip. "That explains it. Thanks." He eyed Draco for a moment, as though uncertain what sort of situation he had just walked in on. "Are you doing alright?"
"Fine," Draco muttered, drawing in a shallow breath. "Obviously, I'd rather be anywhere but here, but I'll survive."
"Yeah."
"Anyway," he went on, "what time is your date?"
Theo glanced at his watch. "I'm meeting Potter at eight."
Despite himself, a grin tugged at his lips, and Draco shook his head with a chuckle. "Can't believe you're going out with him."
With a noncommittal shrug, Theo took another long swig of whisky before pouring himself another small measure. "I don't know, mate. Maybe it'll work out―and if not, it'll make things awkward for the two of you at work which is fucking hilarious."
"Nah," Draco mused, "Potter isn't that bad. Most of the time." He snickered into his glass. "Imagine me saying that."
"Oh, how things change," Theo drawled, sinking into a straight-backed armchair near the hearth.
"Tell me about it." Dropping into the sofa, Draco dragged a hand through his hair and took a pull of whisky. The warm liquor raced through him, the burn of it soothing his frazzled nerves. He supposed at some point he would have to tell Theo about Granger, but he would probably need to tell Potter first.
As if reading his thoughts, Theo sank back into his chair and prompted, "So. Are you doing yoga again tomorrow?"
Draco's eyes snapped up. Merlin, it felt like it had been so much longer than a week ago that everything had happened. "Not that it's any of your business, but yes."
Theo let out a whistle. "Remarkable."
"Is it?" Draco cocked a disdainful brow.
"I don't fucking know anything anymore, mate," Theo snickered. "I'm going out with Potter; you've got some Muggle girl―"
Draco released a long, aggravated sigh. "I have not. Merlin, do you ever just mind your own?"
"No." Theo rolled his eyes. "And you know me better than to ask."
Although the statement wasn't untrue, Draco didn't care to respond. He took another long swig of whisky, feeling the oncoming headache finally begin to recede. But he hadn't eaten since lunch, and his brain started to feel a little fuzzy as he strode across the room to pour another.
"Is this your plan for the night, then?" Theo asked conversationally. "Sit in your family's house and get sloshed on your father's liquor?"
Draco rolled out his shoulders and clenched his jaw. "Sounds as good as anything else." He nodded towards the decanter. "I'll take the whisky back to mine. It's too good just to sit here."
"Fair point." Theo brandished a finger, rechecking his watch. "I'd better get going soon. Can't be late for my date."
"The horror," Draco murmured.
Theo rose from his seat and left his empty tumbler on the cart. "Have fun―don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"That's a short list."
With a wink, Theo quipped, "Exactly." His face sobered as he walked towards the grate. "Let me know how everything goes with your mother settling in, yeah?"
"I will, thanks, Theo. Enjoy your date."
Draco sank back into the seat when his friend stepped through the Floo and vanished. He helped himself to another healthy portion of the liquor, enjoying the burn as it crawled along his throat and diffused into his bloodstream.
He eyed his satchel for a moment and fiddled with the Muggle phone he'd started keeping inside it. While a part of him wanted to talk to Granger, he knew he would see her the next day at her yoga class. When she had asked him if he would be in attendance again, he'd responded in the affirmative before he even really considered the request. He hadn't hated the class the week before, but it wasn't necessarily something he wanted to make a habit of.
When he ventured back towards his mother's room, the healers informed him she had already fallen back asleep. He returned to the parlour, collected his satchel and the decanter, and Apparated to his flat.
Pain crept in behind his temples when Draco stirred awake the next morning. He bit down hard on his lower lip to stifle a groan and fumbled in his nightstand for a hangover draught. He'd drank himself to sleep late in the night on his father's best hundred-year-aged whisky, and while it might have been immature, a part of him was thrilled by the idea.
Popping the stopper with his thumb, he downed the vial and pressed his fingers into the corners of his eyes as he waited for the dull throb to diminish.
At least he'd had the forethought to stow away his phone, so he wouldn't be tempted to reach out to Granger whilst thoroughly sloshed.
The idea of seeing her again made him nervous, if he was honest, after their date several days prior. Between work and the situation with his mother, he hadn't had a chance to stop by the tea shop, and he still didn't care for the phone all that much. It took forever to type a short message, and he couldn't understand any of its other functions.
He'd had a lie-in, and he dragged himself from bed and into the shower before fuelling himself with several cups of coffee.
By the time the afternoon rolled around, and Draco had to leave for Granger's yoga class, he felt at once more and less nervous than he had the week prior. Less nervous because he knew what to expect―but more so because everything felt much more complicated now.
At some point, he would have to inform her that they had known one another before and see whether it might spark anything. But he couldn't handle the fear that she might be upset and want nothing to do with him. And he could admit—if only to himself—that he had begun to care for her. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he had misled her or for her to walk away.
He slipped a hooded jumper over his t-shirt, grabbed his pack, and Apparated to her campus. After the week before, he had no problems finding the building, and he was among the first to arrive.
Granger's eyes lit up as he walked into the room, and Draco couldn't fight the smile that lifted his lips as he walked towards her. "You didn't have enough trouble last week?" she asked quietly, proffering the rolled-up mat he had borrowed the week before. He took the mat, his fingers brushing hers in the exchange, and a jolt of warmth crept through him.
"No," he murmured quietly, eyeing her. "I suppose not."
Her smile softened. "I'm glad you could make it. You look tired―were you working late?"
Draco grimaced; he hadn't realised it was so obvious. "Not that late. I had to go to the manor to see my mother." Sweeping a hand through his hair, he glanced away. "And I might have drunk a bottle of my father's most overpriced liquor."
"Spite drinking," Granger mused, "sounds more interesting than what I did last night."
"I'll have to invite you to join me next time, then."
"Deal." Her eyes sparkled as he caught her gaze again, and though she looked as if she meant to say something more, a handful of people walked into the room. "Best find a spot. We'll begin shortly."
Idly, Draco wished it were just the two of them―and her tight trousers that clung to her arse in that delectable way―but he only allowed himself to linger on the thought for a moment before retreating towards the back of the dimly-lit room.
The same pair of clumsy girls from the week before joined him again in the back row; he gave them a smirk as the class began. And while he knew better what to expect, having already done it once before, he still fumbled his way through most of the poses.
His muscles quaked and seized by the end, a thin sheen of perspiration on his temples, and though he hadn't been entirely keen on attending, he didn't regret it. Not least of all because Granger beamed at him from the front of the room as he cleaned up his space and packed his things.
Draco lingered near the back while she visited with some of the other attendees, then ventured forward to return her mat when everyone else had gone.
"Thank you," she said quietly, stowing it into a cabinet. "How did you find the class this week?"
Fixing her with a hard stare, he drawled, "It was great. I'm starting to think I might be a natural."
She tittered, eyes crinkling with laughter. "You're getting there."
Clearly, they both knew he had no technique and little flexibility. But her smile was contagious, and the corners of his mouth curled with amusement. "And if nothing else, at least the company is excellent."
A pretty flush coloured her cheeks in the dim lighting of the room, and she drifted a step closer so that she had to tilt her head up. "I am inclined to agree with you."
Draco swallowed, catching her eye. Her hand hung loosely at her side, and he trailed the tips of his fingers along the back of it. "What are you doing now?"
"No plans," she breathed. Her hand twisted, interlocking with his own. "You?"
His mouth went dry. "Nothing."
He was meant to be doing something―it all circled around restoring her memory―but his brain felt a little fuzzy at her proximity and the feel of her hand in his. For a dizzying instant, his eyes drifted to her mouth.
"Maybe we should do something together," she said quietly, her eyes bright.
A harsh breath fell from his lips. "Yeah. That's a good idea." Her presence was overwhelming, his mind running wild as his heart throbbed in his chest. "What did you have in mind?"
Driven by instinct, he tugged her closer by their clasped hands, and he could feel the warmth of her body so close to him. Her chest grazed his, lips parting with a breath as she blinked up at him.
Granger's lips pulled into another soft smile, and before he could even wrap his head around the moment, she lifted her other hand to graze the line of his jaw. Pressing up on her toes, she leaned in, her lips brushing against his. The contact was soft, innocuous, but adrenaline flared to life in his veins.
He could feel her breath fall against his mouth, and when she kissed him again with a little more intent, her lips gentle but assertive, he sank into the contact, and his eyelids fluttered shut.
Falling into her indolent touch, he kissed her back while liquid fire seared through him. Her fingers slid back towards the nape of his neck, and Draco trailed a hand down the length of her spine, along the curve of her hip.
He couldn't quite comprehend the way his heart pounded within his ribcage. When her tongue grazed his own, teasing and tentative, he felt as though he might simply combust.
Her nails curled against the back of his neck, he snagged her bottom lip between his teeth, his tongue delving into her mouth when a quiet whimper fell against his lips. Granger's hand released his to wind around his neck, drawing her still closer against him, and he could feel every line of her flush against himself.
Arousal grew within him, desire pulsing in his core as her tongue tangled with his own, patient and meticulous, before she drew back with another lingering kiss to his mouth.
Her eyes sparkled in the low lighting of the room, and a smile brightened her face as she gazed up at him.
Draco could scarcely steady his heart.
It was almost alarming how thoroughly she had captured his attention. And he longed to draw her back in―to kiss her until he couldn't anymore―but he simply smiled back.
One persistent thought thrummed, resounding, in the back of his mind. He was in trouble.
"Are you hungry?" she asked, her face alight with warmth the likes of which he could never tire.
He grazed the pad of his thumb against her side. "I could eat."
By the time Draco returned home that evening, after spending several hours with Granger, he felt a curious mix of euphoria and cold, utter dread. There was no way he could carry on like this. Even if she thought the two of them might have a chance at something, Draco knew her opinion would have been different if she knew who he was. Vastly different.
Dragging a hand through his hair, he settled at the kitchen table in his flat and sorted through the notes he'd gathered so far.
He could still feel the warmth of her lips against his when he thought back on it.
But she wasn't his to chase, not while she didn't know the whole story. And he was already in too deep―had allowed himself too many liberties and indulgences. He wanted a real shot with her, but for all he knew, he'd already destroyed that option.
Despair crept in, burdensome, and along with it, self-hatred.
The only thing he could do at this point was to try and make things right because—if nothing else—Granger deserved that much from him. He couldn't stand the thought that she might never again look at him with that secretive warmth in her eye, as though he meant something.
Draco wasn't used to that.
He also wasn't used to the way he felt when he was with her, and his heart sank like a stone into the pit of his being at the thought of giving it up.
Author's Note: Draco's digging himself quite the hole... thanks for reading, everyone! I hope you're enjoying the story so far, and I always love hearing your theories!
Hugs to my boss alpha Kyonomiko and beta extraordinaire FaeOrabel. MWAH