Draco saw hurt and loss in her eyes, and the words she spoke longed for hatred. He stiffened his body out of confusion. This was Granger, Hermione Granger attacking him, and he was at a loss at how to handle it. Their third year confrontation was not comparable to this. The moment Granger took a hold of Draco's throat, he could feel her pounding heartbeat rushing through her fingers. Recognizing Granger's loose grip was too shaky, he was confident there wouldn't be any effect on his breathing; he loosened up a bit, but not enough to lower his guard. An uncontrollable sneer crept across his face when he saw this encounter lean in his favor. No matter how much he wanted something more to happen after his sneer, he knew it was no more than an empty threat. And for some reason he felt compelled to let her continue, let her release this unknown tension. He had been completely at fault when he was punched by her before, but this time he was more concerned and curious with her anger than wanting to relish in it. "Maybe something has changed in her."
Granger began her rant with teary eyes, but her tears never rolled down her cheeks, "Listen you Pureblood," he squinted as she slurred the poor insult, "everything you do has wrecked everything! I replay everything in my mind trying to hold onto what is good, but I have been coming up short, and for some reason," she started to lower her voice in self-defeat, "it always comes back to you. The root of it all," Draco glanced past her, catching a glimpse of movement, but was jerked back to her sour face, "No! Look at me, you dirty snake! Look what you have done! If your stupid elf didn't kidnap me – for the second time – to save your sorry behind, my shop would have been locked up, warded, safe." Her tone intensified and her grip tightened around his throat; Draco narrowed his eyes at her searching for her bluff. "If you wouldn't have fallen into darkness and cowardice, during the Last Battle many people would still be alive," she swallowed hard as she continued. "If you weren't…." Draco had heard these empty wishes for three years and was getting tired of being the blame. His focus shifted and concentrated more on the thin fingers tightening around his airway. When she continued, he reached for her left hand and tried to easily pull her off, but she wasn't budging. "If you were more thoughtful or responsible, or had less of an ego to uphold, he wouldn't be dead!" Out of complete fury, she pinched her fingers around his throat.
He tried once last time to break her from her tunnel vision, "Grang…Hermi…" but she didn't budge. Draco reached for her wand, and yanked it away, casting it aside. As he grabbed it, he heard a snap of a finger and in an instant, her eyes shut and she fell to the ground. Draco reached for her before she completely fell and was shocked to see Loxley behind her.
Standing tall, Loxley stood on some books that hadn't been cleaned up yet with wide eyes filled with victory. How could a master be upset with his house elf now that he has saved his master from an attacker? Especially from a witch such as Hermione Granger. "Sir, I did that for you."
Draco rubbed his throat and could still feel her powerful fingers around his neck. Conflicted and filled with guilt, he wanted to deal with Loxley's behavior at another time. "I had it handled," Loxley heard the gratitude when Draco told him this. Checking his watch, Draco saw it was past midnight and everyone was in need of a very long rest. With Hermione's sleeping body at Draco's feet, he spun her around and scooped her up with both of his arms. When he got her situated in his arms, her jacket sleeve had been pushed up and he surprisingly flinched when he saw '…lood' scarred on her forearm. He knew what he needed to do, "Merlin's beard."
Loxley was clearly upset, "But sir, you can't! Not her! Why her? She doesn't deserve to go there!"
Draco heard her words clear as day in his mind, and he wanted to prove that famous Hermione Granger wrong, "Because Loxley, it's what Harry freakin' Potter would do!" He then Apparated out of the shop and appeared in the Malfoy Manor, knowing his slate was far from clean.
The night had calmed down and Loxley explained that the witch could wake up soon, but the sleeping hex was powerful enough to keep her in that state for at least a couple of days. Trying to passively earn his master's graces again, Loxley advised him to try and make her comfortable and see reason when she woke. When he thought of his master having an acquaintance of some sort, he definitely didn't want to in these circumstances. Pacing in front of his bedroom fireplace, Draco tried to come up with a solution other than Loxley's. Yes, bringing her here was to prove he wasn't who he was six years ago, or even two years ago. Yes, it was rather a rash decision, but what else was he supposed to do?
Patience was disregarded, "Sir, what I meant was – "
"Yes! I know!" Draco rubbed his face and sighed deeply. "I blame you…" Loxley felt the coldness of his words, but understood his words were not laced with hatred and nastiness.
Draco Apparated directly into Granger's flat in search of necessities. Draco hadn't completely thought through his plan, and when he did think of it, he recognized the selfishness behind his actions. And to him, it was knowing the greater good was in his favor.
Searching for all that she might need, Draco found it comical that, even at her lowest points, it was still second nature for her to be completely organized. Staring blankly at her clothes, his comical feeling was lost when he realized what Granger would call necessary would be completely different than the average person. Granger was and always had been more than average. She was different, peculiar even, constantly puzzling those around her. Draco was never good with puzzles.
After ten minutes felt like an hour while analyzing her closet, Draco teleported a pile of clothes to the Manor. He scanned her flat once more for any other essentials that would ease the frazzled unwanted enigma that was in his guest bedroom. Books? Journals? Pictures? All the objects he thought would come in handy were old, dusty, unused. The letters on her desk were still from months ago, the neatly organized books had been noticeably untouched for a long time, and the two pictures were magically empty of people. Curiosity leaked through his annoyance. The devoted Granger not as in touch with her surroundings, the intelligent Granger not reading her books, and the friendly Granger lonelier than expected. The puzzle was starting to grow. Not wanting to spend any more time in her flat, he left everything where it was and Apparated back to the Manor.
Morning came too soon, but to Draco's surprise he slept like a rock and started his day with more energy than what he was used to. Staying busy at his desk, studying and writing notes in various books, it took him half the morning to remember he had an unwanted guest across the hall. After finishing up with his notes, he convinced himself to quickly check to see if she was at least breathing. With light steps, he crossed the hall and stood at the sleek plain black guest door. Even though the whole Manor was bleak, but elegant, he rather enjoyed how simplistic it was – nothing complicated, everything was at face value.
A soft knock came from Draco's knuckles hitting the door, and when there was no response he slowly turned the knob. Still with no objection, Draco peeked through the slit and scanned the room. It was almost hard to find her, but Granger was still sleeping tangled in all of her blankets. She was still wearing the same clothes from last night and the pile of new clothes on the end table were untouched. With a sigh of satisfaction, Draco gently latched the door shut and went on about his business for the day.
Over the years, Draco had his share of Muggle appliances and the only one he didn't throw across the room in frustration was the television. There were still many things he didn't understand about it, however it was found more useful day after day. Relaxing in his study after a late breakfast, the regional news and its weather reports reminded him how close the Christmas holiday was. Planning out his holiday preparation, his heart dropped when one of the muggle news anchors complained about random dangerous encounters with black hooded figures hidden in shadows. He turned the volume up on the television and listened with a close ear.
"Yes, Sally, that's correct. When the streets of London go dark, there have been sightings of random beings lurking in the shadows. Victims say when the creatures are done with them, they have lost all sense of happiness." Draco turned the television off trying to keep his nerves in check. Knowing the severity of Dementors and their unfading grudge they held with him, doubt began to erase the plan of his trip to London.
No matter the severity of threats, traditions were never to be broken. Even the Second Wizarding War wasn't strong enough to break Malfoy family traditions of birthdays or holidays, especially Christmas. In the days of solitude and regrowth, Draco was still proud to be a Malfoy, and no matter how tortured or tainted his name might be, there were many things that he didn't want to give up. Accepting this and cursing himself for even the thought of breaking tradition, he returned to his room to change. Little by little, Draco had eventually admitted – never out loud – certain Muggle clothes were more comfortable than the wizarding attire he was raised in. As he searched his closet for his thick black leather jacket, he called for Loxley.
"Loxley," Draco wanted to be on good terms with him, but he knew his request would get him further away from his goal. "I need you to help me with something." Loxley perked up when he thought of assisting his master. Draco grew to understand Loxley within the first couple of months of his employment. Loxley was proud, and a creature of habit – loyalty was etched into his soul and nothing was ever going to break that trait. However, many lines had been crossed by both parties, and respect always had to be regained. Giving Loxley opportunities to serve showed him the respect Draco had for him, which was the first step towards forgiveness. "I'm headed into the city and I need you to watch over the Manor." Loxley slumped his shoulders instantly reading between the lines. "I'll be back before sunset, and when I get back I will let you cut any tree down for our tree this year. How about that?" Loxley squinted at him, but Draco spotted the hint of glee that tried to sparkle through Loxley's eyes.
"I get to pick… pick the tree?" Loxley has always wanted this duty, and was willing to give up his fight for this prize. Draco nodded and Loxley agreed, "Certainly." Draco zipped up his jacket and Apparated to the busy Leaky Cauldron.
There were a few wizarding stores he wanted to visit before his search through the Muggle shops. In the streets of the wizarding world, some known faces gave him disgusted glares, and no matter how many insults boiled inside of him, Draco kept his distance and kept out of trouble. Many people were still very sensitive about the war, and even though it was well known the Malfoy's had turned from their past loyalties they were still distraught with Draco's appearance. Eyes followed and burned the back of him as he went from shop to shop.
Confused on why and how Dementors have been revealing themselves in the presence of Muggles, he knew he couldn't let his guard down, even in the magical world. "Something must be happening at the Ministry… how could their hold on them be wavering?" His thoughts carried him through his holiday shopping. While collecting his last items before leaving for the Muggle shops, he visited Loxley's sister's shop; she was a seamstress and has been working for multiple witches and wizards as a clothes designer. Once he completed his order of stockings, he turned to leave but the Daily Prophet had distracted him.
"On the hunt - many break ins have occurred over the past week, causing great stress to Dementors. Be aware! These break ins have been targeted - what we think to have been planned houses, and Dementors have been on the hunt for anyone suspicious."
Ignoring the nauseating churns of his stomach, he continued through a couple of streets of Muggle London. Muggles were on high alert and were beginning to panic from the unknown creatures that have only been spotted a few times. They spoke with confidence and concern, and it took all Draco had to keep silent. In the last store he found, there were two men conversing over the mysterious hooded figures that lurk in the darkness.
"The weather has been very unpredictable. That must be what you felt."
"Stan, no. The chill cut through my skin and made my bones ache. Wind couldn't have done that. It was like, like –"
"No, Bill! If you say that word again, I will leave you alone in that alley."
"I know it's not real, but magic is the only explanation. It's just odd! The way they floated, hovered – searching! That's what it was! They were searching!"
Draco left the store in a hurry, with only the Manor in thought. "They will be after me again… I know it." He needed to find a solution to help him with any more Dementor attacks. He shook his head and squinted hard, hoping the thought would not come alive, but alas, it did. He needed Granger to wake up.
Hermione's POVMuffled music drug Hemione out of her sleep and with a couple of blinks she noticed she was in a dimly lit room. She jerked up trying to untangle from the bed sheets, but her pounding headache clouded her sense of position and then she fell onto the floor. Hardening her face and silently cursing the situation, she glanced over the room, quickly recognizing and identifying the simplicity and shallowness of the décor.
The music kept dragging her attention outside of the bedroom, but she ignored the serenity it began to fill her with. Shoving the music to the back of her mind, she tried to piece together what happened and how she got here. Her flat and shop had been ransacked, and there were memories of Malfoy being there. The simple thought of him soured her memories and instantly felt the warmth of his throat in her grip; she shuddered with guilt. Another verse had rang through the bedroom – it was a particular piano piece, very recognizable, but there was an oddity to it.
Hermione was unsettled to notice a pile of fresh clothes that rested on top of the night stand. she shivered as she searched for a suitable group of clothes to wear to her stay warm. Even though she found her favorite pair of skinny jeans and a floral blouse, she couldn't find a jacket. She told herself she couldn't show any vulnerability even if it was towards the bitter cold. The music pushed its way to the front of her attention and she tried to stay uninterested.
In frustration and confusion, Hermione came across the bathroom after opening two closet doors and the way out to the hallway. As she began to change out of her clothes, the shower was too inviting to deny. She conjured up shower necessities and ignored the awkward feeling of showering in what she assumed to be the Malfoy Manor after recognizing the common theme that shouted the family's personality - bleak and simple. Steam filled the bathroom as she covered herself with fresh clean clothes, but grumbled when the steam and cleanliness did nothing to ease her pounding headache.
After a few more conjurations, Hermione evened out the bags under eyes with some concealer, and plastered on a strong unbeatable expression. Malfoy would aim to get under her skin, intimidate her, push her, but she was in need of control. Practicing lines and facial expressions in the mirror, she was ready to get answers.
The hallway outside the room was filled with silence and mystery. When she sought out the direction of where the music originated from, it had now chosen to become mute. Many portraits of late witches and wizards hung completely symmetrical with one another along the wall, to her surprise they were all lifeless and still – another oddity. There were a lot of similarities in each of the different facial expressions and when she finally reached the end of the hallway she recognized Malfoy and his immediate family. Lucius and Narcissa stood behind their son each having a hand on his shoulder; he must have either been in his fourth or fifth year at Hogwarts when this was painted. Hermione stepped closer to the painting and tried to diagnose what they were thinking. Malfoy's parents stood in confidence and snobbishness, but when she trailed down to label their son, she noticed he held a different tone. He sat with the same snobbishness as his parents, but behind his icy eyes there was a flicker of lost hope.
Her curious nature sparked when the piano began again, but now it was louder, fiercer. As the keys continued to be played, Hermione broke her concentration from the painting and tipped toed down the stairs, hoping to gather as much information on her own as possible. At the foot of the stairs, she entered a large room that only had a long table occupying its space. Chills ran down her spine when she realized where she saw how similar this room was to where she was before. Her feet were rooted to the second to last step of the stairs, and then worry crawled through her, "What if his parents are in here… would he seriously bring me here if they would want to kill me? I wouldn't put it past him." Before she finished her thoughts, Loxley appeared on the last step of the stairs.
"Stop spying." He was cold, but for some reason, joy sparkled in his eyes when he noticed Hermione flinched at his sudden appearance.
Hermione retorted offensively, "I am not spying!" She did, however, keep it at a whisper, not wanting to alert anyone else that could be near.
Then, as he yelled, her blood began to boil and then it rushed to her cheeks in fear and mortification, "The witch is up and outside, lurking!" Loxley turned and casually strolled into the next room as he announced her presence. The piano abruptly stopped, and she didn't hear anything else. Hermione couldn't move, she held her breath hoping it was anyone else besides Malfoy's parents.
"Why are you lurking?" Malfoy came around the corner crossing his arms and leaning on the doorframe to the room Loxley had entered. "Glad to see you're awake." Hermione caught the blandness of his tone, but she couldn't help but ask the list of questions growing in her mind.
"Why am I here? Did you bring me here? Why would you bring me here, of all places?" She was now searching around the large room she was in, trying not to be too obvious on what she was doing. "What happened?"
"Calm down. Loxley, please get, Ms. Granger," he emphasized her name to him, "a plate of dinner. Maybe if her mouth is full, she wouldn't talk so much." Hermione caught the snicker from Loxley before he snapped his fingers and disappeared. Malfoy pivoted and disappeared into the room. When she didn't immediately follow him, she heard him call out to her, "Are you going to stand there all night?"
Still flustered, she entered the next room with caution. She loosened up a tad when she noticed it was free of anyone else but shocked when Hermione saw the Christmas decorations magically hung across the room. In the far corner off to the right was a large Christmas tree with white sparkling lights covering it and there was a moving train (that resembled the Hogwarts Express) circling the base of it; it was the most beautiful tree she had laid her eyes upon. Snowy garland was pinned across the top of every wall where it met the ceiling and lights were strung across the edge of the already lit fireplace giving the fire more of a natural glow. On the other side of the room, she saw Malfoy sitting at a baby grand piano that was very sleek and well taken care of. In the far corner behind the piano, she saw a hutch full of village buildings and miniature sized figures that were magically moving throughout the building, making it appear very lively and full of the holiday spirit.
Malfoy leaned his back to the piano and pushed his sleeves up and offered Hermione to sit. She ignored his offer and stood next to the warming fire and crossed her arms in stubbornness. Before she turned to face the fire, she caught the figure of a tattooed snake and skull on his arm, and she shuddered. Hermione tried to focus on the crackling and popping of the lit fire and not the whirls of thoughts and concerns that burdened her.
"What day is it?" Hermione was quiet, but impatient. "I need to get back to the shop."
Malfoy knew he needed her to keep her calm so she doesn't get carried away with her irrational behavior. "It's Saturday night, and I made sure your shop was completely closed up when I left with your belongings."
"You brought me here? What about your precious family?" She replied childishly.
Hermione could feel his glare as he answered, "They left after the war, and I only hear from them through postcards. After all that has happened, they can get over you being here." A shiver escaped before the fire could warm her up and she hoped Malfoy wouldn't have noticed. She was determined not to feel weak around him, but honestly, she couldn't feel anything else except vulnerability. "Do you need anything else?" And as he asked, she knew Malfoy was always able to spot weakness.
"No…." She felt tears starting to erupt but she fought hard to hold them in. There was a plan, a script, and crying had not been rehearsed.
Thank you for reading and a HUGE thanks to those who have been following this story! Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or anything, just the plot. I'm not that good!