Chapter Five

"To him that is afflicted pity should be shewed from his friend" Job 6:14

It felt odd to be back at his home, Draco acknowledged. The oddest part of it was that it was now completely under his control. He could do whatever he wanted with it. He could put sticky fingerprints on the black obsidian tabletops if he wanted to, something strictly forbidden since he was a child. He could run up and down the corridors yelling, something else previously forbidden. He could get rid of the ugly, modern chrome and white leather furniture - something he definitely intended to do.

During his first couple of days back at the Manor, Draco received an owl from Hermione.

Draco,

I hope you are settling back into your home. Severus tells me that you have deferred University for a semester which is why no-one has been you around campus for the past few days, I guess.

If you ever need any help with anything or just want to hang out, I have included my current address plus the address I am moving to in a few weeks with this owl.

In the meantime, why don't you come over for lunch on Thursday? I don't have lectures that afternoon so we could just watch some movies or something.

Let me know if you can make it.

Hermione.

'Severus', he thought? She calls him 'Severus' already? Draco tried to imagine calling Professor Snape anything other than Professor Snape and failed utterly. He shook his head and then considered the invitation. He could not imagine sitting across a table from a girl he had called a 'Mudblood' for seven years and politely having a meal, let alone watching something called a 'movie' - whatever that was.

He guessed Professor Snape had put her up to it, a case of being guided into making the 'right' sort of new friends. He sighed impatiently. He was not a Gryffindor and would never think or behave like one, no matter how many Gryffindor friends he may try to make. On the other hand, Hermione would know all sorts of interesting news that he wouldn't. She got out and mixed with a wide circle of people at University as well as having access to information via Snape that only Hogwarts teachers would have. He might learn a lot of interesting information that he otherwise wouldn't hear.

If the lunch was awkward and awful he could always excuse himself straight after the meal and say he had business to take care of on the estate, he reasoned to himself. With another sigh, he picked up a quill to write an immaculately polite thank you and acceptance on the family's informal letterhead.

At the same time, he wrote a letter to the Ministry on the formal green, black and silver Malfoy letterhead. He was asking for help in dismantling the Dark Arts room under the Manor. He knew by getting the Ministry involved, that it would be in all the papers but it couldn't be helped. It was a delicate job and needed professionals. He was not even eighteen, let alone an experienced specialist Auror in that area. He addressed it to the Department of Dark Magic Control with a cynical and wry look on his face. His father had had a friend in that department who tipped him off every time there were going to be raids. The Malfoys were never caught although everyone knew perfectly well that they were one of the worst offenders. The informant had been caught recently along with all the other Death Eaters but even if he hadn't, Draco wanted that stuff out of the Malfoy estate. He didn't want anyone to be able to use it for Voldemort's purposes again.

He recalled how he had been fascinated by the Dark Arts all his life and had even wanted to transfer to Durmstrang to be able to study it. His mother had been against it as it would have taken Draco away from building necessary alliances with the other children at Hogwarts destined to be Death Eaters. Having seen the ends to which the sinisterly beautiful Dark Arts had been put by the Death Eaters at Gillamoor, Draco found he had lost his taste for it. Far from being fascinating, glamorous and rather beautiful, it had only produced results that were grotesque, depressing and horrifying. The mystery and thrill of the Dark Arts had been lost to Draco for good in the face of the mundane, stark quality of murder.

* * *

Draco had a reply from the Ministry that very afternoon. They would be sending in a special team from the beginning of next week. Until then, he was asked to leave the protective charms in place but change the passwords. Draco knew that was a simple enough thing to do and did so as soon as he received the owl.

Thursday rolled around quickly enough. He had spent a few days directing his House Elves in moving all the ugly modern furniture out of the main parts of the house and bringing all the antiques out of storage where his parents had put it years ago. Some of it had to be restored and Draco commissioned specialist tradewizards to do it. The modern furniture he donated to charity wondering if even the poor would want the hideous, tasteless stuff.

It was a huge job and would take several months but at least some of the main rooms in the Manor were done in those few days. At 12.25pm exactly he apparated to Hermione's Muggle home. "Oh, you're punctual! How lovely," Hermione sang out from the kitchen when he announced himself from the living room. "I'm in the kitchen," she added rather unnecessarily.

She came out to meet him smiling. Her thick hair was pulled back and her face was clean of make-up. She looked very relaxed and pleased to see him. "I'm so glad you accepted my invitation. I imagine it must feel rather awkward to be mixing with old enemies," she teased gently, her grey eyes warm.

Draco relaxed. She had not pretended that there had never been enmity between them but she was not resentful either. By acknowledging the wall between them, she had somehow destroyed it.

"Yes," he said slowly. "It does feel odd," he admitted, putting his beautifully cut and expensive looking traveling cloak over a chair. As he was going to a Muggle home, he did not wear robes but rather an elegant pair of grey trousers and a white tailored shirt. Hermione thought he looked rather like David Bowie in his 'Thin White Duke' days. Of course, Draco would have no idea who David Bowie even was so there was no point mentioning it.

"I wasn't really sure what you liked to eat so I just did some home made pizza," Hermione said cheerfully, bustling back into the kitchen. Draco followed and leaned against a counter, watching her as she checked the oven.

"Can I have a tour later?" he asked. "I've never been in a Muggle home," he added, looking around all the strange appliances in the kitchen.

"Of course," she said, glancing over with a smile. He looked rather uncomfortable, Hermione thought. He was standing with his arms crossed and his legs crossed at the ankle. Later she was to learn that Draco usually looked like that and he wasn't really uncomfortable at all, just being his usual reserved self. It would take Hermione a long time to get used to the difference between Draco's detachment and her Gryffindor friends' vivacious openness.

Lunch turned out to be easier than Draco had anticipated. Hermione was a remarkably easy person to be with, he realized. Her native Gryffindor frankness meant he never had to manipulate information out of her. If he wanted to know something, he only had to ask outright and she would tell him as much as she knew. Conversations with other Slytherins could be more like fencing matches but Hermione was effortless to talk to. She seemed to have no agenda apart from making him feel relaxed and welcome.

"Did you know that Harry was given the Merlin Award, First Class when he graduated from Hogwarts? Severus is going to be given one now too," Hermione said, halfway through lunch. Draco nearly choked on some mozzarella cheese.

"No, I didn't know," he said with admirable politeness, once he'd taken a sip of Cola.

"Hmm. And Harry has been asked to train with the national Quidditch team for the World Cup next year," she went on happily.

Draco merely nodded. He had heard about that, it had been in all the papers. He himself had been approached by the Kent Knights to be a seeker after Harry had been signed to the Chudley Canons but his parents had looked down their long noses at him and informed him that no son of theirs' was going to be a professional sports star when he had the brains to go on to University. So, he had turned the Knights down reluctantly. In his heart of hearts, he agreed with his parents. It wasn't appropriate for a Malfoy to make a living playing Quidditch, - that was for society's climbers, he thought with the arrogance of old money.

From Hermione he found out how all the ex-Hogwarts students were doing at University. He found out that Ron had gone on to the Auror's Academy and that Harry was playing Quidditch full-time for an almost ridiculous amount of money. He also found out what everyone's major was over at Hogsbridge.

Once they had finished up with summer berry ice cream, Hermione looked at him with a suddenly serious expression. "Severus tells me that you went to your parent's trial," she said quietly, looking him in the eye.

He nodded and glanced away. "I just viewed it from a private room. I didn't attend in the galleries. I didn't want them to know I was there," he replied, after clearing his throat.

"That was very brave but it must have been hard. Are you sleeping okay? You've got big shadows around your eyes," she asked gently.

His mouth tightened. "I'll be fine. I wasn't expecting this to be an easy time," he said shortly.

"No. Well, I don't want to pry but if you ever need someone to talk to I'm here, okay?" she said kindly. He just nodded, not looking at her. "Have you ever seen a movie?" she asked, changing the subject to lighten the atmosphere.

He looked up at her again. "No. What is it?" he asked curiously, glad of the change of topic.

"Well, it's a bit like a stage play but it's pre-recorded - it works a bit like a penseive," she explained. "What kinds of stories do you like?" she asked as she got up and led him back to the sitting room.

He thought for a minute. "I like mysteries and action stories," he said finally.

"Okay, we'll put on Sherlock Holmes - The Hounds of the Baskervilles. That has mystery and a bit of action. It's also a bit of a classic," she said going and fiddling around with something that looked like a black box with a dark glass front.

Draco's eyes widened when the picture came onto the screen and the opening score started. He had never seen anything like it. It was like you were really almost there inside the story. It was far superior to any stage play. He didn't take his eyes off the screen for the entire movie. Hermione glanced at him every now and then, and smiled to herself. If nothing else, this new experience had taken his mind off his problems for a couple of hours.

When the movie had ended, Hermione took him on the promised tour of the house. She showed him how electricity worked and what all the different appliances were for. He was utterly fascinated. "I didn't know Muggles were so ingenious. They cope very well without magic really," he observed, looking rather subdued.

Hermione realized that Draco was probably remembering all the disparaging things he had heard from his parents growing up about Muggles and their inferiority. Now he was being forced to confront the truth that Muggles were really rather clever and well-adjusted to their magic-less state.

"I think wizards and witches have it far easier that Muggles," Hermione commented. "A lot of our problems can be solved by simply knowing the right spell or charm. It's harder for Muggles to come up with solutions to their problems, they have to be smarter."

Draco was quiet. He glanced up at the clock on the sitting room wall. It was 4.30pm already. His eyes widened, he'd been there for hours! "Well, it's getting late and I need to get back to the Manor," he said courteously. "Thank you for lunch and for showing me the movie."

Hermione smiled. He was so formal! She knew it was simply his good breeding but she was used to her friends inviting themselves over at a moment's notice, staying all day, and eating her out of house and home without so much as a thought. "You're very welcome and I do mean that - you're welcome to come over whenever you like and just hang out," she said with a warm smile.

"Thank you," he said formally, picking up his cloak again and with a last nod, he apparated back to the Manor.

He spent that evening reading the last few days worth of newspapers as he had not had a chance to what with organizing the re-arranging of the furnishings. His parent's trial was the headline for three days running. Fortunately the papers had not gotten the story that he had viewed the trial. He read the description of his parent's sentence with his blood drumming in his ears. They had gone into detail of what the Dementor's Kiss did to the recipient and the conditions at Azkaban. The Malfoy name had been dragged through so much mud over the course of his parent's arrest and trial that he wondered if he could ever show his face in wizarding society again.

He put the paper down and rubbed his burning eyes. His thin frame was slumped in his chair, one long-fingered hand pushed through his fine hair. He sat like that for a long, long time listening to the empty silence of the huge house that now belonged solely to him.