Chapter III:
He finally emerged from the shadows when her sobs turned into quiet whimpers. All along, he sat on the armchair in the darkest corner of the room, studying her and waiting for her to stop crying. Draco Malfoy had never been good with actions and words of comfort, both giving and receiving. Even when he was a little boy, he'd rather stare with his eyebrows furrowed than try to comfort any of his friends when they fell from broom sticks or when reprimanded by their demanding parents.
Hermione Granger was no exception.
"Are you done, Granger?" he asked. And his question came off cold, and distant.
His eyebrows knitted together at an instant, as if she had done something terribly wrong, and he felt a funny feeling in his gut, one that was domineering and yet, unfamiliar. Despite the assurance given by the healers regarding her physical condition, he hadn't moved an inch. He sat watching her sleeping figure, as if the door would burst open any minute revealing his mad aunt. Draco couldn't truly pinpoint the emotions behind his actions. While he carried Hermione's unconscious body through the hallways, he was met with incredulous and judgemental comments thrown his way by his ancestors. He had immediately ordered the house elves to hang the portraits elsewhere. He told himself that he was tired. His mind was foggy and he could feel his muscles ache. That had to be it. It had been a long day and Draco Malfoy had gotten himself in a bit of trouble.
If one could really call it that.
"Malfoy…" his gaze met hers, with a hint of curiosity. He suddenly wanted to find out every single thing that was on her mind, he wouldn't mind having the ability to read her thoughts right that moment, to disassemble her mind and then put it back together piece by piece.
"It was Draco when you were begging for help and now it's back to Malfoy. Tell me Granger, have you always been so conniving?" he asked, realizing his words came off sharper than he intended. He had noticed recently that there was a distinct separation between Draco, the Dark Lord's poster boy and Draco, Narcissa's only son and the prior had dominated the latter. Despite the dimly lit room, he caught a glimpse of the growing blush on her cheeks, and though she wasn't the same girl he once knew, he could read the frustration written all over her face and the screams of denial that threatened to bubble from the depths of her throat.
He instantly concluded that some never changed even after surviving a war and its gruesome aftermath.
Typical Granger, he thought.
"I don't remember doing that…" Hermione's head fell forward and she stared emptily at her palms, wrapped in bandages. And that was when she noticed her missing fingers on her right hand. Her mind had been protecting her for so long that she failed to fully register that she was broken and missing pieces of herself. In an instant, the Hermione Granger he once knew vanished in front of his eyes, and instead, he was presented with a barely alive muggle girl who was tired of trying to stay alive.
"You don't?" he stepped closer and Hermione could feel the magic radiating from him. It was dark, tainted and she could feel it wrap around her throat, almost suffocating her. She shivered, curling what remained of her fingers into her palms.
"I wasn't sure if you were real…" her lower lip trembled, tears pooling in her eyes. "I wasn't sure if I was dreaming.."
She heard him chuckle.
And in an instant, she was overwhelmed with memories from the past. Her mind played a montage of their moments from Hogwarts; she could clearly see his younger self, the blonde strands of hair that fell over his eyes, and that know-it-all smirk that was permanently seated on his lips and she could almost hear him say, "My father will hear about this."
She didn't know that one sound was capable of opening vaults after vaults of memories of a life she used to know.
"Dreaming of me now, Granger?" he asked, for a moment forgetting who they were and where they were. "Is this a confession?" he teased and Hermione felt her cheeks burning up, mostly from annoyance and anger.
"How refreshing to know that war didn't change you a bit, you are still the same cocky little kid…" and before she could protest further, her eyes widened in shock. He threw his head back and laughed, and Hermione realized that she hadn't seen him do that in years. She didn't think that he was capable of such softness, such carefree ways because of who he had sided with during the war and because of how much he cared for his image.
Hermione snapped out of it very quickly. And she swallowed the lump in her throat, before venturing into unknown waters.
"Why did you do it, Draco?" she asked. And a part of her anticipated the revelation that all this was just a big joke, part of Bellatrix's new game.
Draco's shoulders stiffened and his jaw muscles tightened, he wasn't happy with the question. Anyone could have told her that. He thought for a moment and Hermione took that time to study him. She noticed the shape of his frown hadn't changed at all, and yet his facial bones were more defined and he looked stronger than before, maybe bulkier even. He had a black shirt on and black pants. She could make out the details of his emerald green cufflinks and the ring on his finger, one that she hadn't seen before.
"No one deserves to die in Aunt Bella's hands. Not like that'' his reply was quick, he didn't hesitate. "Being a Gryffindor and completely oblivious to the realities of the world we were always destined to live in, you will probably not understand this Granger but, you are not just a low life mudblood" and Hermione could have sworn that her heart sank for reasons she couldn't comprehend. Maybe she believed that he was different from the rest of them, certainly different from Bellatrix. But, maybe, she got it all wrong. She wouldn't trust her mind and her own judgment, not just yet.
"You are Potter's sidekick and though the world has changed and moved on, you are still an Undesirable and you shall remain so until the end of our days and beyond. You are famous, Granger but for all the wrong reasons. They write about you in history books, you know? Too bad your friends are not here to celebrate the moment with you."
There was something different about his tone. Hermione couldn't tell. It sounded as if there was a drop of bitterness in his voice but, maybe her mind was imagining things, it wouldn't be the first time it did. And as her mind worked hard to register every word he spoke, her heart began to ache, paralyzing her limbs.
"You are an asset, Granger. A gift from the Dark Lord to my Aunt and thus, to the Malfoy and Black families through association" she heard him chuckle, running his long digits through his hair. Tears began to run down her cheeks, she didn't even realize she stopped breathing. Slowly and surely, the truth started to reveal itself but she wasn't ready yet, to consume it all.
"I would have never thought that a mudblood like you would become such a sought after commodity in our new world" she heard him say, Hermione felt the pain turn into anger and bubble within her, and she tried to lunge forward, wincing in pain when she felt the ache in her leg muscles, her arms and her neck. As if there was an invisible thread that wrapped itself around her, squeezing. She saw from the corner of her eye his hand raised, and she realized that he was capable of wandless magic. Not many could do that and that fact alone occupied her mind for ten seconds before, she was reminded of her pain and anger.
"Am I a joke to you, Malfoy?" she snapped, tears further brimming in her cognac eyes. "I didn't survive this long to entertain Death Eaters like you-release me this instant!" she demanded, staring in shock at Draco Malfoy who let out another laugh, releasing her and lowering her gently back onto the bed, and she felt her cheeks flush a deep shade of red, slowly her soul being consumed with pure rage.
"Not all of us find entertainment in torturing mudbloods."
"Is that supposed to be comforting?" she questioned, raising her voice. And for a moment, she felt something shift in the air. Hermione hadn't felt her magic in months, and though she was somewhat receptive to magic flow from the house elves and the dark wizards around her, this was something else. Her gaze fell on Draco's and she noticed that he was studying the air just like she was a few seconds ago.
"This castle is old and by arriving here, we have awakened its magic" he told her, his hands placed into his pockets. Hermioned felt utterly confused. "We are not in Malfoy Manor?" she wondered, lowering her voice. It didn't occur to her that there was another possibility. Suddenly, she dreaded coming face to face with Lucius Malfoy and though she was sure that none of the Malfoys would match Bellatrix's destructive energy, it didn't mean that he, in particular, wasn't less dangerous.
"Of course not" she heard him reply, cracking his neck in two places. "Didn't you hear anything I just said, Granger? You are a valuable asset. You won't be safe at the Manor with so many people coming and going everyday. Not to mention, you will cause more stress to my mother than she needs lately."
Hermione made a small mental note. It had become her second nature to observe and keep records in her mind of scenes played in front of her eyes, of words said and promises made. Seemingly, the Malfoys had gotten busy in the aftermath of the war, which isn't surprising. Last time she heard, the Dark Lord had turned the Malfoy Manor into his headquarters and Draco seemed to care about his mother, she wasn't sure why the latter she found to be most surprising of all.
"Where am I then? Are we still at the Lestrange's manor?" she couldn't help but ask, she just wanted to make sure. And even though she appeared to be brave, her voice trembled and she knew that he picked up on it.
"No, I want you to forget about that place. You will not be returning to that ugly manor any time soon" and she released a long breath that she realized she had been holding.
"We are in Scotland '' he then revealed, meeting her gaze and he hesitated for a moment. Hermione watched him turn on his heels to look out of the large window. There were black curtains on both sides, the kind that hang from the windows in the Grimmauld Place. "This castle has belonged to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black since the late 16th century. It was here that my ancestor, Phineas Nigellus married Ursula Flint. This is the place where they started their family. This is the only Black property that has witnessed more good than bad even by Pureblood standards. The magic here is very particular" he looked over his shoulder briefly. "Too bad you can't feel it. But, this is the only place that can keep you safe. No one is allowed to cross the estate lines except for a true heir and anyone who wishes nothing but the best for the said heir" he told her, and she saw the smug smirk gracing his lips.
Hermione stared at the tall windows and the moon shining through the glass, it had been such a long time since she had seen it, she suddenly felt she came alive. For a moment, she noticed how perfect his skin looked under the moonlight and yet, she could see that he was tired. The dark circles under his eyes were heavy and even the dimly lit room they were in, couldn't conceal them.
"My mother's and Aunt Bella's loyalties are with the houses they married into. Aunt Andromeda has been disgraced and erased from the family tree long ago so, there is no one but me" Hermione bit back a sob, remembering Harry. Sirius had ensured that the Black inheritance would transfer to Harry upon his death but, since Harry was no more, Malfoy got what belonged to him. It hurt to know that she couldn't protect Harry even after his death. And then, she remembered Remus and Tonks and her mind instantly wondered about their son. As if he could read her mind, Draco approached her, standing a few feet away, with his head tilted to the side, studying her face. "He is fine. And with his grandmother. They both escaped to the continent the moment the war's outcome turned."
Hermione wasn't sure if she was relieved or hurt. Her mind would register this piece of information only days later that Draco Malfoy, unconsciously or consciously had tried to comfort her in the best way he could.
She couldn't say anything but nod.
"The healers ran a bunch of diagnostics and patched up your wounds. There are three house elves that live here who will tend to your every need. I recommend you to get stronger Granger, and take your time to heal. I wouldn't want the Dark Lord's most prized war prisoner to die from malnutrition or worse from wounds inflicted by my Aunt" he straightened his shoulders, disgust written all over his face.
She was convinced that he was mocking her. And Hermione hated it every bit. If she was praying for a quick death, day after day, for months, now she was trying to comprehend the purpose of her existence. She had so many questions to ask, but she wasn't sure if Malfoy would be the most reliable source of information when it came to her friends and the Order.
"Why..?" she asked, her voice weak and trembling. Her fingers and what was left of them nervously clinging to the sheets that covered her lower part of the body.
He hesitated, and she could see it, feel it. She saw a glimpse of what he used to be, the Draco she once knew, one that could cry openly and throw one epic tantrum. But, it lasted only for a short moment. His mask was back on, three seconds later and she felt herself shiver and bring her knees to her chest.
"Because, you look terrible Granger" a smirk on his lips, Hermione knew that he was lying. But, she remained silent, instead of protesting and questioning more.
"You are still Aunt Bella's property so, don't get too comfortable and don't push my buttons. She has loaned me to you while she is away."
Hermione closed her eyes, her heart racing, it dawned on her that this was a temporary setup. She felt disappointed and then, utterly disgusted with herself for finding comfort in being Draco Malfoy's prisoner instead. Obviously, she couldn't trust the wizard who let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts and played a part in Dumbledore's death, turning their lives upside down. "Will you let her take me back?" she asked, avoiding his gaze. Instead, she stared at the fireplace, and let her mind wonder.
"I told you, you will not go back but it doesn't mean, you will never see her again."
Then, his expression turned sour. "Fuck" he cursed, pulling up his sleeve to expose the dark mark. It was the first time she could see it so clearly, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from it. She knew what that meant and yet, she refused to acknowledge it, a cold shiver running up her spine. Draco had noticed her visible discomfort and he stepped closer, a smirk playing on his lips, he reached to grab her hand, "Look at it, Granger. Look at it. Because, this is the new reality we live in" he spat. Darkness had veiled his face, and there was no trace of Draco that had surprised her with his carefree laughter some minutes ago.
"Draco, please.." she begged, and he closed his eyes, a venomous smirk playing on his lips.
"You will learn to love it, Granger," he hissed.
His comment threw her off, unsure of what he meant, she tried to look away, and avoid his venomous gaze all together. But Draco's fingers remained curled around her wrist, and she could have sworn that she felt the softness of his thumb brush the inside of her palm before he let it go.
She watched him quietly curse and turn on his heels to exit the room. Hermione curled into a ball, pulling the covers on top of her so they could help her pretend that she was somewhere else, that maybe, she was at home with her parents, in her room, and in the middle of a terrible, terrible nightmare. How many times did she try to convince herself that it was all part of a nightmare?
"There is no escape from this castle, Granger. The world you once knew is no more. If you somehow manage to escape, you will be hunted and brought to the Dark Lord. And if you think Aunt Bella is cruel…" he couldn't finish his sentence, his knuckles turning white, his jaw muscles tight, "There is no future for you outside. Keep that in your big Gryffindor brain. This is the only safe place for you. Remember that, while Aunt Bella is away, you are my property, Granger."
Hermione watched him step outside, shutting the door behind him. She was left with soothing sounds of the fireplace and the wild life outside, surrounding this castle she was in. Soon, the world would awaken to start a new day and she wished that she could look forward to it. She curled into a tight ball and sobbed herself to sleep.
Promising that when the morning came, she would sort everything out.
Because, tomorrow was a new day.
It was late in the afternoon when Hermione finally opened her eyes. She could tell by the large clock on the wall. She rubbed her swollen eyes not minding the feeling. She was used to crying herself to sleep, but for once, it felt good to wake up without any fear of impending danger. A part of her felt awful, more than anything. She was grateful for Malfoy and how was that even possible? Hermione sat up and stared emptily at her bandaged hands, they were a different color, not the boring beige but, a light shade of dusty pink. She frowned, at first, trying to decipher the mystery behind and then, she shrugged. Obviously, there were more pressing matters at hand than the color of the bandages.
Slowly, she slipped out of the bed, and pressed her feet on the rough edges of the carpet below. It was an odd shade of grey, Hermione could make out what once were- ornate patterns. If this carpet was as old as the castle's first occupants, she wouldn't be surprised. A part of her mind told her to be careful and try not to ruin it, so she took small but very careful steps, avoiding putting pressure on her soles and made her way to the large window, the only source of light in the dark room. She had confirmed her suspicions, the room was covered in black wallpaper, with emerald green and grey details in some places. It oddly reminded her of Grimmauld Place but there was something different about it. At first, she hesitated to look outside, unsure of what she'd see, so she kept her gaze lowered and pressed her fingertips to the window still. She could hear the breeze outside, gently caressing the glass. And Hermione found some courage to look ahead, after a few minutes of silence.
Her eyes widened and she let out a quiet gasp, she could see the clouds' reflection on the water surrounding the castle, there were endless green hills in the distance covered with forest. Tears pooled in her eyes, she hadn't imagined the possibility of finding beauty in post-war Britain, not after the darkness had engulfed the entire country. This beautiful view outside her window, carried with it, a small glimmer of hope and light. And for now, that was going to be enough to get her through another day.
Hermione flinched and turned around, she saw a tray materialize on the antique wooden desk by the fireplace. Carefully, she approached it and stared at the contents. There was a fruit bowl, and porridge with cinnamon and honey, and a pot of tea. She couldn't remember the last time she was so privileged to have a proper breakfast. Not to mention with honey, and cinnamon, the two flavors she had forgotten. Hermione took a seat, and then, a minute of contemplation later, she took a piece of an apple and placed it in her mouth. She couldn't remember a time when she cried because of how good a slice of an apple tasted. This was the first and she was convinced it wouldn't be the last.
Just when she was about to reach for another slice, a book materialized right beside the tray. Hermione stared at it, eyes widened in shock and then, she leaped forward to grab it as if it could disappear if she didn't act on it.
History of Magical Scotland.
If there was ever a moment when Hermione didn't appreciate the feel and the smell of books, her enthusiasm that moment to touch and smell the book in her hand, would make up for that moment and more. Her fingers trembled as she opened the book, and ran her fingers over the first pages.
Property of Cygnus Black, it read.
Then, her lips parted open and the tips of her fingers ran over the name scribbled prematurely right underneath.
"Property of THE Draco Lucius Malfoy"
Hermione couldn't help but chuckle. There it was, a forever piece of evidence engraved onto the page of Draco Malfoy she had once known. She wasn't sure if he still existed, but she was sure that he didn't mind her remembering him. This was his book, and he gave it to Hermione to read. She didn't know what to make of the gesture. First, she was in a room, cared for by the healers and the elves, then, she was given breakfast, the only proper food she had had in months and now, a book.
Not just any book but one that belonged to Draco Malfoy.
Hermione nibbled on her lower lip, wondering if reading it would make her a traitor. A traitor to the Order's cause.
She hesitated, opening and closing the book several times before, she finally told herself, enough. The book was old and she could damage it.
It was just a book.
Just a book, and nothing else, she told herself, leaning against the armchair, pulling her knees to her chest.
Just a book.
Minutes passed by before Hermione took the book in her hand and turned the page to Chapter one.
On the other side of the hall, in the castle's old library, that exact moment, one Draco Malfoy found himself looking up from the papers in front of him, a wide smirk gracing his lips.