Inspiration for this story:
From the Dust - Benjamin Torrens.
"You're sure about this, Malfoy?" Zabini questioned, caution clear in his usual carefree diction as he steadily watched the pacing blond. He knew this was a new turning point for the youngest Malfoy, the only heir to one of the most powerful ancient bloodlines. That was all a load of tosh, though, wasn't it? Blaise had never seen the scion looking so ran down, even in sixth year, but it only made sense—he had just narrowly escaped death months ago.
"Just—I need the address, Zabini," Draco repeated, never having felt more resolute in anything in his life. This was something he needed to do, there was no other option—no option that made his escape matter. The Italian stared at his old housemate, his brows peaking as he sighed and shrugged.
"All right, mate," he caved, handing the blond a piece of folded up parchment. Draco swiftly snatched it up, nodding to the man before Disapparating away. The disheveled wizard hadn't even gone to sort himself out before landing, afraid he'd miss his opportunity—lose his nerve and have to hide away in shame and embarrassment. He stared at the red decorated door to a welcoming looking porch, despite the terrible weather.
"Bugger," he muttered. The blond had landed just as a downpour began, thoroughly drenching him, but that hardly mattered to him as he stared at the rather beautiful two-story home before him. Draco took a deep steadying breath, shaking his hands that were beginning to become numb. He pushed his legs forward, advancing up the few steps, nearly tripping on the first one due to his nerves. Merlin, he was so nervous his heart rate had to be going at 140, it felt like the thing beat its way into his throat, when he swallowed it felt like a large lump was in it.
Shaking his hand once more, the blond raised his fist, hesitantly rapping at the door. With the action completed, everything in him was screaming at him to disapparate, his heartbeat picking up even more as his lungs followed the leader. Quite a few painstaking moments passed, his eyes casting to the white floorboards of the porch. Please, he silently prayed, I don't know if I'll be able to make myself do this again. The rattling of the handle was the split notice he had before the door opened and his eyes tore from the pool of water that was dripping from him.
His swirling greys were caught by hazels, eyes that were wavering from shock, confusion, and curiosity of why it was he was currently standing there, drenched and looking a proper mess. The witch before him stood in her doorway, standing still as she stared at him, an expectant look on her features with her brow cocked, head tilted to the side and her lips lightly pursed. Draco swallowed, his jaw setting as he prepared himself to speak, nervously licking at his dried lips as he blinked a couple times, averting his eyes from her intense gaze. Swallowing once more, he parted his lips to speak and no words came out, his throat constricted, preventing him from doing what he had sworn all year he'd do once Hogwarts released. The wizard could only stand there in silence, heart racing and lungs failing at his mission gone awry.
"Come in," came out in a soft wisp as the witch waved a hand, casting a drying charm on him and retreating from the doorway down a corridor past a set of stairs that lined the wall to the left. "Close the door, please."
Draco blinked, watching her form walk farther away from him. This wasn't what he had planned, being inside her home was not part of the plan. He did as he was told anyway, stepping inside without a word and closing the door behind him, how could he not? His feet carried him after her, his very being knew he had to do this. The young woman had led him into a kitchen down the corridor, the room's light had been the only one on in the house.
"I was about to put on a kettle," she quietly stated, opening a cupboard and pulling out a kettle and filling it with water to set on a stove. The witch gestured towards an island countertop with barstools. "Have a seat."
Draco merely nodded and did as she instructed, taking a seat in one of the stools farthest away from the door he'd come through. He couldn't let himself leave here without doing what he'd come to do. The wizard observed her meticulous movements, her hands pulling out teacups and her tea stock to begin preparing her and her very random guest tea, like the proper kind person she was. She knew exactly why he'd come, and instead of scoffing in his face and turning him away, the woman was walking him through his quiet spell. Draco has never felt more pathetic in his life, he need only say three words.
"Here you go," she muttered, her small hand sliding his cup in front of him just before summoning any needed additives. The wizard licked his lips, taking a deep breath as the witch made the stool next to him disappear and reappear to her on the other side of the island.
"Th-thank you," Draco nearly choked out as he tried breathing in just as he spoke. His greys drifted up to meet her hazels for a moment, nervously flicking them back down to his cup.
"You're welcome," came to him in a soft sigh, her hand lifted her cup to her lips, delicately taking a sip so as not to burn them. He followed suit, taking a few sips, willing his nerves to settle along with his breathing. It felt like hours that the two of them sat in silence, waiting for the wizard to finally speak.
"I-" Draco started out, stopping to take a breath, "I'm not a good person, Granger. I don't know if I ever can be—or can make up for not having been. I-I will try. I won't waste this chance—this life you have given me. I owe you everything."
"You don't owe me anything, Malfoy," Granger insisted with a sigh, taking a sip of her tea. The wizard rose his brows as he looked down at his teacup, shaking his head. She was absolutely wrong.
"I do—I have caused you so much pain throughout our years at school, Granger," Draco reminded her, his brows furrowing as his shoulder slouched, "not to mention, I was too much of a coward to—to step in—at the Manor. I'm sorry, I don't mean to bring up such a distressing memory."
At the mention of the Manor, the witch's hand absently went to her forearm, making the blond chastise himself. That day has kept him awake for an entire year, haunting him, tearing at his soul as he watched the memory over and over in his mind. The witch being tortured and carved up in his head didn't deserve it in the slightest. She had more compassion than anyone he has ever met in his life, a compassion she had extended to him, and he had been her personal devil, tormenting her all their school careers. Draco's hand ran through his disheveled locks, a sigh forcing its way out of his lips at his royal cock up.
"I'm sorry, for everything. I can't go back," the wizard stated, "however, in the future, if there is a time you need it, I will help you. No matter what it is, or how many times you need me, I am yours, Granger."
"What?" The witch questioned, rapidly blinking at him. Perhaps, she didn't suspect that part. The last part of his visit was going to be rather difficult, and was the very reason he had been so nervous in the first place. "I—erm, Malfoy, I'm re-really very flattered, but I'm currently seeing someone."
"Erm," Draco pursed his lips—that small misunderstanding was actually rather cute. He cleared his throat and gave her a nod. "Right, yes, I-I am aware that you are seeing Weasley, Granger. I-I wasn't professing my love for you. I apologize for the misunderstanding."
"O-oh," was muttered, her creamy peach skin becoming a pink peony hue. The witch's hazels averting from him as she silently sipped her tea. Draco almost laughed at the comical situation, but stopped himself, he didn't want to embarrass her further. He polished off his tea and sent it to her sink to wash itself.
"I was merely stating that I've committed myself to you—which, yes, I know, it sounds similar," he admitted with a heavy sigh. "Think of it as more of a bounden servant vowing their loyalty."
"You really do not need to do that," Granger stressed, lifting her hand a couple millimeters off the countertop.
"Please, Hermione," Draco quietly pleaded, "it is what I want to do, what I feel I have to do. It is what I've come to do tonight."
"I—that's—I'm sorry," the witch stammered out, shaking her head, her wild curls shifting every which way. Draco swallowed and nodded, standing to leave. As he passed by his little savior, he stopped, his hand cupping her cheek as his fingers buried into her mane.
"The way I feel about this," Draco began, his thumb caressing the surprised witch's cheekbone, "it will not waver. If at any time you need, call on me."
The blond did the last thing he would ever do against her wishes, he lowered his head and tenderly pressed his lips against hers, those soft petals he would always remember the feel of. During that little kiss, Draco Malfoy bound himself to Hermione Granger, completing the ritual he started by stating 'I am yours.' The brunette shoved him away from her, wide-eyed with her hand over her mouth. He felt an emotion in his chest that made him nearly laugh, the corners of his lips threatening to tug upwards. Draco ignored the feelings of shock, horror, and even curiosity, and focused on disgust before he bowed to her.
"Forgive me," he pled, "it wasn't meant as an intimate act."
"Did you—are we soul-bound?" Granger hissed, a look of severe offense covered the entirety of her being, effectively tearing through the wizard.
"Don't worry, you're not bound to me," Draco assured her, "I am bound to you."
"Please, leave," she bit out evenly, pointing to her kitchen archway. Draco nodded before bowing his head.
"Yes, ma'am," he accepted, heading for her door. "Remember what I said—anything at all, Miss Granger."
"I'm not going to be calling on you," came a shout from behind him as he retreated down her corridor, and out her front door. It would take quite a bit of time for the witch to acknowledge she had a willing follower whom would do anything for her. Draco would rise from the dust his brilliant Mistress awoken him from and he would become anything she could possibly need.