A/N: I do not own Harry Potter or any characters related to the franchise. That all belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. I hope you enjoy the only thing I do own...the plot. Also M rating for language and possible sexually explicit scenes (really just wanted to be safe with the rating).
Her hair was flowing in the breeze, and she held her soft pink dress down on her legs with her hands to keep it from rising in the wind. The moon cast her face in pale light, but she still seemed to glow in front of him. Draco's heart skipped a beat, and he felt a prickle in his eyes as he stared at what could never be his.
Hermione's eyes bounced between each of them before landing on his. She shivered, goosebumps erupting on her arms in the night as she stood there. "Fleur says supper is ready, and wants everyone back inside," She called, her brown eyes locking on Draco's. Bill nodded at her. She hesitated for a second, opening her mouth as if she was going to say something, and Draco couldn't help the way his hand raised slightly towards her. She glanced down at his hand, and then she turned away and headed back towards the house.
Draco licked his lips as he watched her walk away. The only sounds on the beach were the soft breaths of the men around him, and the waves crashing along the sand. Her soft steps were already swallowed by the night. "How much did she hear?" Draco asked, taking a step back from Harry and straightening his cufflinks.
"I am not sure." Harry replied, adjusting his glasses. "I hope none of it." Draco nodded his agreement before turning to the group.
"I'll finish this project of hers," He began, "After that, I want to go back to the way things were." He turned to Bill and looked him square in the eyes, "I don't care if she thinks I hate her. It might be for the better that way." Draco ignored the disappointment that had flashed through Bill's eyes. The older man's mouth drew into a frown, but Draco just turned and began his trek back towards Shell Cottage before any arguments could be made.
Dinner was a tense affair after the fight on the sand dunes. Charlie and George seemed to sense the brewing animosity among the other men at the table, and tried to cheer everyone up with jokes and tales from Romania. Eventually, Draco was able to make his escape without causing insult to Fleur or her delicious meal.
He gave his hostess a kiss on the cheek, and gave hugs to the children who wanted one. Before too long he was turning for one final look back at the table, his eyes locking with a pair that looked exactly like melted chocolate. In that moment, Draco wished he had been a better man at school. Wished that he could have been a better man during the war. Just wished he could be better now. Steeling himself he decided that if he couldn't be better, then he could be strong for them both.
Finish her project.
Pretend to help her until the full moon.
And then he would leave.
Forever.
Maybe Madagascar was nice this time of the year.
The following Monday, Draco buried himself in paperwork that was brought to his house via a black feathered, and obscenely cranky Blakiston's Fish owl. His mother had tried to convince him to go to work, but Draco was nothing if not stubborn. So, he locked himself away in his father's old study, and continued his regular work from the safety of his home. He finished easily and had convinced himself that he would be fine to just work from home for now on.
There was no real reason for him to go to the office regularly. He could brew in the manor, and then he could have deliveries made weekly to replenish whatever the Aurors needed. He went to sleep that night fully prepared to send a letter to Harry, and to tell him to start sending his assignments to the manor every day. He knew that Harry would probably agree, and he was quite proud of his new plan.
That was of course until the next morning. Tuesday.
From the moment he woke up and dragged himself to his father's study he felt off. For years he had relied on Tuesdays to take the edge off of the wolf. Now, he sat in the old wingback chair and watched the clock tick down. The sun was just peeking up over the edge of the large lake that made up the eastern edge of his property. Its sharp glow bouncing off of the water, and blanketing the pines in golden tones. Every few moments Draco would take his eyes off of the clock and watch the light inch across the wooden floor, measuring the time with his heartbeats before the temptation of the clock pulled his gaze back.
At seven his heart began to speed up.
At half seven, his breathing became labored.
The wolf in his mind began to pace. We have to see her. It demanded over and over again. Go to the office. We have to see her. Draco shook his head violently, and gripped the edge of his chair. Each loud and obnoxious tick! of the clock made him want to pull his blond hair out, and like an addict suffering from withdrawal Draco began to shake.
Finally, he stood and began to pace.
"What would it hurt to go see her?" The question echoed through the room and off the pale empty walls, and he honestly didn't expect an answer, but like any person who had a second personality living in their head, he got one.
It doesn't. Just go through that door and floo to the office.
"But...distance is a good thing. I will be leaving her in a few short weeks. I need to break the habit anyway." He whispered, his feet steadily thumping on the floor. To the wall and turn. To the desk and turn. To the wall and turn. Over and over as if he would run a whole in the cherry-wood floor.
Why do we need to leave her at all? She loves us-
"Let's not confuse a supernatural, unwanted connection as love. She doesn't love me, she just feels drawn to me. It's not the same." The wolf growled, and began to pace with him. One side of the mental cage and turn, the other side and turn, over and over again. The agitation the wolf held kept Draco's muscles tense and his teeth on edge.
She could love us though, if we gave her the chance. If we gave her a reason too. If we showed her what was here to love.
"What's here for her? A man broken from years of war? Or the boy who tortured her through school? She deserves more." He choked on the words, his voice getting so thick that it was hard to pass through his mouth. His teeth continually trying to catch his words.
The argument between man and wolf continued for several more minutes until they were interrupted by a slight knock on the door. Draco didn't even bother turning around to answer it, as his mother often came up to the study to take her mid morning tea. Instead he waved his hand, and allowed his magic to open the door. To the desk and turn, to the wall and turn, to the desk and turn, to the wall-
"Malfoy?" Draco paused in his pacing, his foot still posed to take another step. Such a soft voice, such a sweet voice. Lavender, autumn rain, Earl Grey tea. Tea Tuesdays. Draco loved Tuesdays. He turned to face her slowly, h9is hands falling down to his sides limply. The golden light collided with her hair. The gold that reflected could have been spun from the delicate hands of a fairy. Her eyes reelected the light that bounced off the lake. She was in a soft pair of jeans, and an old worn out jumper, but she looked more beautiful than a woman wrapped in silk.
"Malfoy, are you alright?" She asked gently, holding a paper cup of tea in her hand. Draco realized that he had been gaping at her like he was seeing a ghost, and gave her a weak nod. The wolf sat content in Draco's mind, it's tail wagging as it waited for her to come closer.
"Fine." He sputtered before unconsciously taking a step towards her. She sighed when he spoke and took her first step into the room, offering the tea in her hand. Draco looked at the clock, quarter past eight. She was late. Draco took a sip of the tea, subtly noticing it was just how he liked to take it.
She looked around the room while he took a sip, gazing at the books that were lining the walls. Draco hoped that he had actually found all the cursed books during one of his many purges of dark magic through the manor. "Not to sound rude, but why are you here?" Draco asked, when she had still not said anything.
"Oh, you said you would help me. I was going to go to a werewolf support group today, but if you are busy with," She snatched a document from Draco's desk and read, "Mrs. Laftdoning's cursed tea kettle," She raised an eyebrow when she finished, shaking her head incredulously, "Then you can stay here and I'll go by myself." She watched him intensely, setting the document back on the dark, gleaming surface.
Her hand then began to lightly trace the various knicknacks Draco kept including a small picture of him holding Victoire and Louis during one of the many dinners he had shared with the family. The corners of her mouth rose in a smile as she continued her his head at the distraction she was causing he thought about what she had said. Then his heart stopped and his brows came together in a frown.
Draco couldn't just let her go. The thought of having his mate around a group of unknown werewolves, with unknown temperaments made his skin crawl and the wolf growl deep inside of him. A slight vibration in his chest indicated that he had let a low growl out without meaning too. The wolf was progressively becoming harder to control. He could not forget to take his potion this month.
He stopped the animalistic sound as quickly as it started and tried to cover it with a cough. He was not, however, able to conceal the furrow of his pale brows or the hard set of his thin mouth. "Why don't you go another time?"
"I have to go today, it was the only day they had time to meet with me." Still she watched Draco with her curious brown eyes, "I can go by myself, Malfoy. I will just give you a full summary of the wolves I meet. We can compare that to my original documentation and condense the list of possible suspects." She didn't move as she watched him, her eyes following his every twitch as he began running his hands through his hair.
She is a strong witch!
She could still be hurt.
What do you expect me to do? Run to her side every time she wants to do something mental. In case you have forgotten we are leaving. And you happened to pick the one witch in all of Britain who attracts problems. Or have you forgotten who her best friend is?
If you can protect her now and you don't, and she gets hurt, can you forgive yourself? Everyone needs a pack looking out for them. She deserves to have someone watching her back.
Fuck you, furball. Draco argued with the wolf, but in the end the damn beast was right. Draco knew that she could handle herself. He knew that she would probably be fine. But, if something did happen to her, when she had given him this chance to help her, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.
"Seriously Malfoy, it's not that big of a deal." Draco shook himself out of his argument as he watched her amused eyes scan him before grabbing a silver letter opener that Draco kept as decoration and fingering it. Glancing over its surface she continued, her voice soft and steady, "I can take care of myself, and what's the worst that can happen? I get bit by a rogue wolf before the full moon and start craving rare meat." Her eyes flicked up to his face again, a slight smirk on her face, a silent if unknown challenge, "Maybe have a scar."
Scarred. Cursed. Forever.
"Dammit, Granger." He hissed, causing her eyebrows to raise. He clenched his hands at his side and began heading towards the door, "Let me get my cloak and we will go to this bloody support group." He continued muttering as he made his way to his room, catching his mother's eye as he turned down the hall that led to the main living quarters of the Manor.
"Something troubling you, dear?" She asked politely, her pale hands clasped together perfectly in front of her grey robes.
"Mother," He asked quickly, stomping up towards her. "Out of curiosity, how did Granger get past the blood wards?"
"I am not sure, dear. Strange magic blood wards, they can be finicky." She gave him a soft smile, turning to stare at an old portrait of the manor during its original construction. The wizards in the portrait would lift the occasional stone and put it in its place among the old walls, sporadically waving at the real life occupants of the current structure.
"Finicky?" Draco ignored the flustered quality that his voice had taken, "funny how they haven't been finicky in over six hundred years."
"Are you accusing me of something, Draco Abraxus?" Draco flinched at the use of his middle name as his mother turned her cool blue eyes on him. For a moment he was a four year old again who had just spilled his juice on her favorite elven woven rug. She wasn't angry though, instead pure innocence encapsulated her entire face. She looked shocked, as if she couldn't believe her only son would think so low of her, but Draco wasn't fooled. His mother was of Slytherin house, and could conive with the best of them when she wanted to be. Fooling the Dark Lord was just one of her many accomplishments. She survived the past fifty years through her unparalleled cunning and impeccable social grace. She was what every socialite ascribed to be.
Draco let out a sharp breath through his nose, before closing his eyes, trying to calm down. "No, of course not Mother." He muttered through clenched teeth, "It's just oddly convenient."
"Mmmm," his mother hummed, still gazing at the portrait. "Will she be staying for lunch?"
Draco opened his grey eyes, narrowing them in the direction of his mother's, "No."
"Shame, the elves were just telling me that they had prepared too much food today." She turned towards him, giving him a sickly sweet smile, "I'll just tell them to throw out the extra." She began to walk back down the hall, her heels clicking on the marble flooring. Draco was about to continue on his path before her voice stopped him cold yet again, "Or, maybe I will just ask Hermione if she would mind dining with us to prevent the elves from being terribly upset. You know how sensitive the little things can be, poor dears." She watched Draco from where she stood down the hallway. Her pale face seemed to glow in the darker hallway, and her diamond encrusted wedding band glinted prettily in torchlight. Her eyes flashed, a challenge evident in their steel blue surface, before calling back over her shoulder, "I am sure she wouldn't mind."
"Mother," Draco growled a low warning, but his mother's steps never faltered.
"Hush dear," His mother called back, already turning down the hall to his father's- his study. "And don't make that face, you will get early wrinkles."
Draco let out a short yell in frustration, one that was echoed by his mothers soft chuckles before storming into his room. Frustration settled deep into his bones as he grabbed his cloak and stormed back in the hall. After years of avoiding other wolves, it was time to go find some.
A/N 2: I could try and give you some long drawn out explanation to explain my absence, but to be honest the Muse's decided to abandon me, and I am getting close to the end of what I have written. That being said, I am pretty confident about where this story is going and how it is going to end. I would, however, like to hear from you folks. Where do you think this story is going? Is there anything you want to see happen? Any reviews are very appreciated!