At the designated meeting time, Hermione apparated into the fountain square behind Malfoy Manor. A large, white burbling fountain stood in the middle of the square, encircled by thick manicured hedges punctuated by four arched pathways: one leading to the Manor and the other three to the rest of the grounds. Rustling leaves startled Hermione, but when she rounded, all she saw were two white peacocks ambling between the shrubs.
"Wow, Granger, no offense, but you look like hell." Dressed in a grey cashmere sweater and jeans, Draco came strolling down the pathway on her right. Hermione attempted to straighten her skirt, but it was no use; after the night she had, she knew she was a mess.
"There was another magic surge yesterday. Every clock in London and the surrounding areas went crazy. Wouldn't've be bad if that was the only thing, but we kept getting calls about other magical occurrences… Cars floating down streets like rollercoasters, faucets singing showtunes instead of running water, head hair growing so quickly it was swallowing people whole. We were out all-night doing damage control."
"Is your research here helping?" Draco asked with a hint of genuine interest.
"Yes, your archives are phenomenal, but there is just so much to sift through. It's like following breadcrumbs through centuries and it takes an immense amount of time."
Draco turned his head toward the direction he came, looking back almost wistfully.
"Where were you coming from?" Hermione asked.
"One of the gardens. Would you like to see it?" Draco's voice wavered. She could see he regretted asking as soon as the words left his mouth, but Hermione was curious.
"Only if it's pretty," she teased.
"It's gorgeous," he promised.
The garden was stunning. Hermione felt like she had walked into a wonderland. Lush hydrangea bushes, unearthly large thanks to magic, toppled over carved benches. Rows and rows of blooming flowers weaved around topiaries, tulips and hyacinths growing the color of cotton candy. Near a small outdoor dining area, wooden beams rose from the ground, twisted with magical ivy that would, Hermione knew, glow like fireflies in the night. Past a small pond, off in the distance, a willow tree basked in the midday sun.
"Astoria loved this garden. It was her pride and joy," Draco said, more to the flowers than to Hermione. He confessed almost involuntarily, "Sometimes I sit here to feel close to her."
"I heard about her passing. There was an article in the Daily Prophet. It must have been hard for you."
"Hard for me?" Draco scoffed, "She was the only good thing I ever had. Then she was cursed and I had to watch helplessly while she withered away. It wasn't hard, Granger, it was devastating. It's not like she left me for someone else, that I could get over. It's a mercy really, that you'll never have to miss Weasley like I miss her."
Stung by his remark, Hermione blushed. Of course he knew about Ron; the whole wizarding world knew thanks to Rita Skeeter. But his comment caught her off guard. She wanted to run and hide. Remember, he is in pain, too, she thought, and her anxiety subsided. He is in pain, too.
"Did you know each other from Hogwarts?" She asked, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice.
"A bit, she was in Slytherin, a couple years behind us, and Daphne's sister, but back in those days I was less focused on girls and more focused on proving myself important. We met," Draco's voice was thick, "After."
Hermione knew he meant after the war. She wondered what it had been like for him, living with Voldemort under his roof, living in fear, and his once influential family reduced to cowards in the eyes of both sides. When she said her next words, she meant them.
"I'm sorry for your loss."
"No, you're not, because I deserved it." With that, Draco stalked back up the path toward the Manor.
Hermione wouldn't go as far to call Draco good company, but he was at least quiet while she worked in the archive room. She became used to his presence, as one does with an ornery cat, but today he was exceptionally broody. She could feel sadness radiating from him like heatwaves on asphalt, and his anger sizzling like a cooking egg. Hermione, unable to stop thinking about their earlier conversation, put down her quill.
"You didn't deserve to lose her," Hermione said. Her head and body faced Draco, her eyes softening as she saw the intensity in his.
"Don't look at my like that, Granger. With Pity," Draco spit the words like they were dirt in his mouth. "A lot of people like to think I was just a scared kid; they think I was forced to do what I did. But I did have a choice and I chose to get the dark mark. Everything, all of it, the choices were mine and mine alone. I deserve what comes to me."
"You hesitated." Hermione said after a moment.
"What?"
"You didn't want to kill Dumbledore. You hesitated. And you were here the night we were caught, you could have given us away, but you didn't."
"None of it mattered."
"You gave us time", Hermione asserted, "You saved our lives, Draco."
"You want to think everyone has good in them, just like that dribble Dumbledore used to spew. You want to believe I am good, that's why you're here. You wouldn't step foot in this house if you didn't believe that on some level. But some people are just bad. And you don't know me. You don't know what I've done."
"You came to the Ministry. You want to help."
"Oh yeah, Granger, but how do you know this isn't a trap?"
They sat in uncomfortable silence for the remaining time. She knew he was speaking out of pain, but when it was time to close the books for the day, her steps were noticeably quicker as she left through the garden.