AN: I truly need to thank you all for your patience. I suppose although they have yet to officially declare their feelings, the whole point of the fic is this kind of skinny love that waits in the side-lines and even supports you as you put yourself back together. To me, Dramione is very much a healing relationship that can only happen if both Hermione and Draco grow and whilst they have both been instrumental to the other's healing process, they (especially Draco) have been forced to come to terms with who they are first and realise they can be loved for who they are, that they are enough, scars and all. Skinny love is the most beautiful, I think. I hope this story reflects that.
Chapter Thirty - Home
Exam season swept in with the pollen. June witnessed the Fifth, Seventh and Eighth Year students of Hogwarts trapped inside the library and classrooms, milling in and out of The Great Hall, all the while the summer stretched on outside. The castle took on an intense sense of concentration, though the calm exploded in a crescendo of relief at the end of every exam, lighting a brief spark of excitement and anxiety that infected every corridor and common room. They were paving the way for their futures, but the moment was overshadowed by the sheer relief they had survived long enough to close the examination booklet and escape outside.
Hermione found Draco one evening sitting on the bank of the Black Lake, books open but untouched beside him, light creeping lower in the sky, though still laced through the gold of his hair. She sat next to him, tucking her knees under her chin and sighed loudly.
Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "Don't bring your stress here, Granger."
She huffed, shooting him a scowl. "There's no free table in the library. Suck it up, Malfoy."
He smiled despite himself.
"How are your exams going so far?" asked Hermione. "Oh! And what did you think of the final Transfiguration question? The laws and nature of conjuration are two separate things so I thought it odd that they seemed to ask for both together in a four mark question. I think I got them all though-"
"We should go for a swim," he said.
Hermione blinked. "Excuse me?"
Draco smiled slightly and looked down at her. Eyebrows raised and voice patient, he said, "You're stress is stressing me out. Let's go for a swim."
"Where?"
His smile dropped and he shot her a look that clearly implied it was a stupid question and said, "The lake, obviously."
Hermione's eyes widened. She quickly looked at the lake in question, still and calm, water glistening and rippling orange and pink, sunset soaking into the lakebed and lighting it on fire. Her lips pursed. "Students aren't supposed to swim in the Black Lake," she told him.
Draco rolled his eyes and climbed to his feet. "I'm sure you've broken worse rules over the years."
She flushed pink. "That's different!" she countered hotly. "Those were life and death situations!"
"Cursing Edgecombe in Fifth Year was life and death? I must have missed those stakes."
"I'm not surprised, you were so far up Umbridge's arse, it's a wonder you got your O.W.L's done-"
He inhaled sharply, bending low to haul her to her feet and an undignified shriek tore from her lips as she barrelled into him. Draco raised his eyebrows. Hermione thwacked him and he stumbled backwards, catching himself before he fell down the banking. They glared at one another.
Draco let out a long breath before he kicked his shoes off, pulling off his socks and tucking them inside his brogues. Then he unlooped his belt from his trousers, dropping it at his feet.
Hermione's eyes widened as he started to unbutton his shirt and she spun on her heel, hand flying to cup her hot cheek. "What are you doing?" she exclaimed, horrified to hear the squeak in her voice.
Her cheeks grew hotter when she heard the slight lilt of amusement in his voice. "I'm not going in fully dressed, Granger. My shirt alone is probably worth more than your entire wardrobe."
She rolled her eyes and bit back scathingly, "Don't tell me – your underwear is designer too?"
"Thinking about my underwear, Granger?"
Hermione let out a little mortified moan, burying her face in her hands.
"I'll keep my pants on," said Draco impatiently. "I won't offend your prudish sensibilities."
She took a deep breath, lowering her hands and turned slowly to face him. Her eyes drank in the sight of him, breath catching in her throat.
His hair shone golden in the warm, evening sun, threaded through with yellow and pink and lilac. His skin was porcelain, smooth and unblemished- until his chest. Hermione couldn't look away. The scars shone white, thick and long, running the entire length of his torso as though someone had tried to gut him or slice him open from chin to pelvis. He looked like a statue that had been shattered and painstakingly glued back together again. She stumbled forward, hand trembling as she reached up to touch his skin.
"Did Harry-?" she began but the question was too painful.
Draco nodded. "I was about to use the Cruciatus Curse on him."
She froze, fingers tracing one of the scars. Hermione's eyes flicked to his. She could feel his heart racing in her palm.
Nodding, Hermione stepped back again and forced herself to bend down to unlace her shoes, reaching under her skirt to peel her tights off. She unbuttoned her cardigan, folding it and placing it over the rest of her clothes, before standing straight and looking at Draco. She raised her eyebrows at him.
Draco swallowed thickly, and his eyes flitted the length of her before he caught himself and looked away. "Well." He cleared his throat. "The lake's not going to swim itself."
"How very astute of you."
He pursed his lips and said, "Right," before he moved towards her and threw her over his shoulder. Hermione protested, warning him, repeating his name, pushing against his bare back and wriggling in his hold. "Your sarcasm is truly grating today, Granger."
"Bugger off! Put me down, Draco."
But he ignored her, carrying her all the way to the lake, until the water was deep enough, where he dropped her in. Hermione screamed, the sound cut off as she went under.
When she broke the surface, she spluttered and coughed, gasping for breath. Draco was howling with laughter.
"You bastard!"
"Now, now, Granger," he grinned. "There's no need for that kind of language."
Hermione launched herself at him, dragging him down with her and his laughter stopped.
They played like that for what felt like hours, the water cooling their skin, rejuvenating their souls, their laughter loud and free.
When they grew tired, Hermione swam towards him and he caught her in his arms, their breathing magnified in the small space between them. She hugged him to her, closing her eyes, hands splayed across his back.
Hermione pulled away, arms tightening around his neck, looking across the water and leaning her head against his.
Hogwarts sat atop the sloping lawn, rising into the sky, turrets piercing the sun, the rows of windows winking and twinkling. She felt something lodge in her throat at the sight of the castle, knowing it concealed hundreds of stone hallways and secret rooms, her warm, crimson Common Room and all the crackling fires that had comforted her, the Great Hall with all its memories and every classroom of her childhood.
She felt the tear, warm against her cold lips and admitted, "I'm going to miss it."
Draco swallowed. "I'm coming back. Hard to get emotional about a place you're not sure is your home or your prison."
Hermione's hands were cold and damp on his jaw, turning his head to face her. Her eyebrows had pulled together slightly. "Hogwarts will always be your home."
He licked his lips, searching her eyes for something, before gently moving his head away, her hand lingering in the air. "I don't feel like I really have a home," murmured Draco, and though he spoke quietly and softly, the words still made ripples on the water between them.
"Of course you do," she said. "Home doesn't have to be a place. It's wherever you feel safest. It's wherever you want it to be."
His arm around her waist, holding her up as they both treaded water, her wet hair clinging to his neck, her chest warm against his, heart beating, racing, Draco looked down at her and thought this was exactly where he wanted to be. The sun had exploded now, that slow and vibrant eruption of colour, the last of the day's light leaking into the sky, staining it pink and yellow and orange. It drenched them, soaked them to the bone, and they were colourful too, painted in the colours of summer.
The birds were singing their goodnights, dragonflies flitting lazily across the surface of the water. His heart felt settled in his chest, body drowsy. Draco held her tighter, resting his head against hers and he knew Hogwarts could never be home to him without Hermione Granger.
oOo
The summer holidays dawned on them quicker than anyone anticipated, school breaking up in an uninterrupted series of finales: the final breakfast devoured; the final exam completed; the final night in the House dormitory.
Gryffindor Tower had been lit up and explosive all night, the party raucous and rowdy and everything epitomising the Lions it entertained. Hermione didn't let go of Ginny's hand, letting her pass her drink after drink, laughing as she endeavoured to set up Neville and Hannah, and dancing with her friend at the turn of every song. Ginny had kissed her on each cheek when the night finally went to sleep, mumbling that she loved her, even if Hermione loved the ferret. Hermione had squeezed her hands and told her to get some sleep.
They were a couple hours into the train journey back to King's Cross when Hermione excused herself from the compartment with her friends. Nobody asked where she was going, though Ginny gave her a knowing look, even sending her a quick wink which triggered her to blush profusely and mutter something about the toilet.
She didn't go to the toilet, however, heading in the opposite direction, glancing casually into every compartment as she walked the length of the train, spotting his signature white hair immediately, relief flooding her body.
Hermione slid the door open and plopped onto the seat opposite him.
"McGonagall said yes, then?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "No, Granger, I'm a stowaway."
She narrowed her eyes at him, throwing her hair over her shoulder and said, "I told you she'd be fine with you going home for the summer. Have you told your mother?"
His breath noticeably stuttered. "I wrote to her yesterday," he said.
"She'll be overjoyed to see you, Draco," said Hermione softly. He nodded, jaw ticking as he cast his eyes out the window.
"She's invited you to stay at the Manor for a few days, whenever you're free," he said after a long moment, still not looking at her. "Don't feel obliged to. I think she likes you."
Hermione chewed on her lip, fingers automatically playing with the sleeve of her shirt. His eyes flicked to her, then her arm, before they returned to the window.
"I know the Manor isn't a place you ever want to return to," said Draco quietly. "But my mother has assured me she's redecorated it floor to ceiling. It was the place of her nightmares too."
She stared at him, her thumb absently stroking her scar. "I'd love to come visit your mother, Draco."
He glanced at her then nodded. "I'll let her know."
The door slid open abruptly, scraping and screeching as it was wrenched along-
"Fuck me, longest piss of my life, Drake-"
Blaise stopped in the doorway, eyes snagging on Hermione. She clenched her jaw to refrain from saying something impulsive and looked away from him.
"I wasn't aware there was a lady or I would've minded my profanity."
"Please don't feel like you have to on account of me," said Hermione, straightening her skirt over her knees.
Draco stood then, clasping Blaise's shoulder and said, "Right, I'll go. Won't be long." He cast a smirk behind him. "Don't miss me too much, Granger."
He disappeared and Blaise stepped into the compartment, the door sliding shut behind him. He moved to occupy the space Draco had sat in. Silence settled over them, filled only by the rumbling engine of the train under their feet and the occasional whistling of the wheels on the tracks.
Blaise looked at her. Hermione held her breath.
"Granger," he began after a heavy sigh. "About what I said-"
"Don't. I don't want to talk about it, Zabini."
He nodded silently. Hermione watched the countryside pass by the window, blurring into a continuous stretch of green and blue. She could feel the unfinished conversation crackling between them and knew that he wasn't going to drop it.
Blaise took a deep breath and stared at her, before his face cracked, lips straining, eyes becoming pained, and he leaned forward and said, "Granger, your love will break him." Her eyes shot to him. There was no sign of the cool and collected Blaise Zabini she had thought she'd known. This boy was desperate and vulnerable, a stranger to her. "It will break him. If you're not sure, if you don't mean it, then please, I'm begging you now Granger, leave Draco alone."
Hermione shook her head. Tears spilled from her eyes. "I can't," she whispered.
Blaise smiled, but it was small and somewhat sad. "I didn't think so. Be gentle with him, Granger. He loves you too."
The door to the compartment slid open and Draco appeared, taking a seat next to Hermione. He stretched his arm along the back of the seat, his fingers brushing her shoulder. She kept her eyes on Blaise, until the other boy looked away first.
Draco looked at her, knuckles grazing her skin, a small frown pulling at his eyebrows. "You alright?"
Hermione nodded, pressed her lips into a line and forced them to smile. "Yeah. I'm fine."
oOo
Hermione shifted on the doorstep, tugging at her dress, hoping her hair hadn't escaped the meticulous braids she'd spent hours perfecting. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, breathing accelerating. She closed her eyes and tried to steady herself. Her entire body trembled violently.
The war was still with her, everywhere she went. Inevitably, she knew it would be for the rest of her life. The world remained in such turmoil that the year's anniversary had come and gone, the Ministry issuing a series of pamphlets and articles, focusing their attentions on the ongoing trials and complete overhaul of the government, though Harry had written to her to warn her of rumours about an upcoming celebration ball which had her stomach coiling with premature anxiety.
McGonagall had conducted a simple assembly on the school grounds to remember the fallen in May; Hermione had avoided it, the twelve months condensing into a second since the Battle of Hogwarts, and she felt her grief rip through her anew. She'd hidden in the Room of Requirement for some peace and quiet, willing it to not let anybody in with her, and broken down. Her legs had collapsed and she'd screamed and sobbed and wept for the things she had seen and the things she had done and all the people she had left behind.
But this place- this place still haunted her at night. She still felt the phantom agony of Bellatrix's curse, her forearm burning.
The door opened suddenly and Draco stood before her, eyebrow raised, lips twitching. "I wasn't sure for how much longer you were going to stand on my doorstep so I took the liberty of deciding for you."
Hermione pursed her lips, painfully aware of the blush staining her cheeks. "How very kind of you."
"Well, my mother didn't raise no heathen." He stepped back to let her in. "Come on, Granger. My mother has been practically bursting to see you."
Hermione felt her heart stop in her throat and she froze on the doorstep. Draco glanced back at her, eyes flicking between hers. He stepped close and took her hand, murmuring, "It's alright, Granger. Trust me."
She did, letting him lead her into the house and close the door behind her. Her eyes immediately explored the entryway, head craning back to take in every detail.
"I told you," Draco muttered in her ear, dropping her hand. "Mother has been busy."
The dark walls Hermione remembered from the war had been completely repainted in a deep gold on the lower level, though the upstairs ascended into a traditional mural, depicting some historical or biblical story, women in white dresses and horses and knights in shining armour, stretching to a bronze ceiling, reminding Hermione of a Keats poem she had once read. The staircase was stone, run with a rum-coloured carpet, lined with golden railings that stretched around the upstairs balcony. Golden brackets with daffodil lamps adorned the walls, interspaced by marble busts and regal chairs and full suits of armour. The floor was black and white diamond tile.
"Hermione," greeted Narcissa, coming from the arch to the left of the staircase, folding her into her arms once she got close enough. "How lovely to see you again."
Hermione awkwardly patted her back. "And you, Narcissa. How are you?"
The Malfoy matriarch stepped back, clasping her hands in front of her, and smiled. "I'm very well. How do you like the décor? Draco thought it a tad too Gryffindor when I asked him."
Draco rolled his eyes and Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "It's beautiful. Not too much at all."
Narcissa hummed, looking about the grand entryway. "Harry said I didn't go far enough, that I should have used more crimson."
Hermione jolted. "Harry's been here?"
"Why yes, dear," replied Narcissa. "He's the Auror who accompanies me on my day trips. I invite him back for tea and cake most days to show my gratitude."
Hermione couldn't help but smile. Of course it would be Harry. Harry, who knew exactly what it was like to be a prisoner in your own home.
She was acutely aware of Draco's eyes on her, prickling the back of her neck, but when she looked at him, his eyes were unreadable.
"Draco, dear, why don't you give Hermione a tour of the Manor whilst I check on the kitchens?"
Draco nodded. "Of course. What a wonderful idea, mother."
Narcissa gave her a final smile before she disappeared, silver robes trailing behind her.
Draco turned to Hermione. "This way."
"You didn't know about Potter," he pointed out as they ascended the stairs, hands behind his back.
"No."
"You haven't seen him?"
Hermione licked her lips, shaking her head. "Not since I last saw you, no."
Draco was quiet for a long moment and when she glanced at him, she saw him frowning.
"Where have you been staying over summer?"
Hermione looked away, pretending to be interested in the old paintings on the wall, answering casually, "I've been at home."
He stopped walking. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Hermione didn't slow down. She kept her pace measured, even though she had no idea where she was going, hoping her body didn't give away how close her heart was to breaking.
Shrugging, she said, "You didn't ask."
"Hermione."
She stopped too, but didn't turn around to face him. Hermione closed her eyes, taking deep breaths, hating the way each one shook and caught in her throat. She could feel a sob blossom in her chest.
His footsteps were quiet, muffled by the carpet, but she still heard him coming to stand behind her, feeling the warmth of him so close to her back. Draco's fingers brushed her bare arm.
"Is home-?"
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. A tear slipped through. "My parents' house. It's empty but all I had to do was remove the wards. It's pretty much as I left it."
"Why didn't you tell me?" he murmured.
She shook her head. He stepped closer, arm reaching around her, resting across her collarbones, tugging her back into his chest. Draco dropped his chin on her shoulder, leaning his head against hers, his breath and words warm on her ear, "Stay here. You can have an entire wing to yourself, if you'd like. Free access to the library, anything. Just don't go back there alone."
Hermione brought her hands up to hold his arm. He was warm and solid and she wanted nothing more than to melt against him because he felt to be everything holding her up.
Instead, she cleared her throat and said, "You're not a very good tour guide."
Draco laughed slightly and he came to her side, offering her his arm. "Terribly sorry."
They began again, walking along the unending corridors, Draco taking his role much more seriously, opening doors to empty rooms for her to nosy in, telling her stories about who had inhabited them, who had died in them, which portraits to watch out for, which portraits were good to go to for a long chat about every subject that existed. They stopped again outside a door on what felt like the far end of the manor.
Draco hesitated.
"Who died in this one?" she teased him.
He glanced down at her, opening the door and letting her in. "Nobody yet."
Hermione entered, grinning, but her grin faded when her eyes perused the room. The walls were a deep blue, the colour of a sky at midnight, with a deep brown wooden chest of drawers and matching wardrobe set against the nearest wall. The large four-poster bed, curtains drawn and tied to each post, took up the most space, with dark blue bedding and silver pillows. The windows were wide and tall, framed with heavy drapes, and a door stood between them, opening onto a white balcony.
There were little pieces of Draco scattered throughout. His Slytherin scarf was tied around the bedpost, as well as the scarf she had knitted him for his birthday. There was a towering bookshelf which Hermione couldn't help but stop in front of, ignoring Draco's snort behind her, and she spotted the complete collection of Shakespeare, as well as a few other Muggle classics, and an array of magical theory books that had her breath quickening. In front of the spines were what looked like children's toys, including a metal dragon that sprang into life and bounced like an excited puppy when she went to touch it, causing her to laugh.
There were plants on his desk in the corner, spiky cactuses and miniature flowers, and quills with all different feathers in their ink pots. Under the desk was his school cauldron, filled with ingredients.
"What are you making?" she asked, tipping her head towards it.
Draco shrugged. "I like experimenting."
Sure enough, as Hermione wandered closer, she noticed the journals piled high, picking one off the top and flicking through it, revealing pages of notes and instructions, discoveries and reminders about potions he'd practised or read about. She devoured each page with wonder.
"Draco, this is incredible."
"I shouldn't be surprised it's the books and schoolwork that interests you, Granger," he replied, but there was some touch of fondness in his voice that had her smiling.
"Well, things haven't changed. Not really."
Draco smiled slightly. He was leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, watching her.
"I never have thought I'd get Hermione Granger in my room," he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. His cheeks flushed pink.
"It's not what I expected," she admitted, looking around. Her eyes settled on him. There was a smile in them. "But then again, neither are you."
Draco laughed again, nervously this time. "Dare I ask what you expected?"
"Of the room or yourself?"
His voice was low when he said, "I'm not brave enough to ask of myself."
Hermione put the journal back on the pile, turning to face him.
"I expected you to be cruel and callous," she said, moving closer, "to call me names and think little of me. I expected you to not care, to not give a damn about anyone but yourself... I didn't expect you to offer me a solution for my insomnia, to let a boy beat you up because you could see he was breaking and it might fix him for a while. I didn't expect you to care so ferociously and passionately, to love just the same. I didn't expect to have you be the one person in my life I have come to depend on more than anyone else."
She only stopped when she was inches away from him, every word breathy and warm on his lips. Hermione brought her trembling hands up to rest on his waist, thumb drawing patterns over his shirt. Draco's eyes darted between hers. His throat locked and he swallowed audibly. His hands remained limp at his side but he flexed his fingers, his palms sweated.
"Hermione..."
She stood on her tiptoes, hands tightening in his shirt, holding her lips to his, not quite touching. Draco moved then, one hand quickly coming up to hold her face, stroking some of her hair back, the other steadying her hip.
He looked at her lips, then at her eyes and shook his head slightly.
"Are you sure?"
Hermione nodded, leaning closer, closing her eyes, feeling his hand clutch her hip so hard she wondered if bruises would blossom tomorrow morning. Their lips touched, briefly, so fleetingly and it felt like everything was falling into the place, the shattered world finally finding itself complete again-
"Draco!" They jumped away as his mother's voice floated up to them. "Hermione! Dinner is ready."
Staring at one another, they remained close, unable to separate.
"I'll have the House Elves prepare a room for you," murmured Draco, brushing her hair back before he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead and stepped away.
Hermione's head felt light but she frowned, calling after him, "You have House Elves?"
"We pay them, Granger, don't get your knickers in a twist!"