Author's Note: All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well.

Chapter 18

Going Home

"You just bloody let him walk out of the hospital with her," Harry snapped, not having touched the dinner on the plate before him.

"What did you want me to do Harry?" Ron sighed, not having the same difficulty in eating as his friend and brother-in-law. "He's her husband, and the old laws that haven't been repealed yet state she goes where he goes."

"Neville said she's been trying to divorce him secretly. Why did she all of a sudden own up to this now?" Harry still couldn't believe it and refused to even consider that Hermione might have willingly wanted to leave with Malfoy that day.

"Neville also said that she told him not to worry about it recently, and since Malfoy's things were found upstairs in Hermione's flat I'm assuming they were living together in every respect," Ron said through a mouthful of potatoes. "You think I like the idea any better than you do? The very thought of Malfoy looking at Mione' let alone touching her in any way repulses me. Still, the sum of galleons he threw at the Ministry must have put a decent sized hole in his inheritance."

"That means what exactly?" Harry said, finally spearing a plump piece of chicken, but still not eating. "Like always he used money to justify his behavior."

"That money kept Hermione out of trouble Harry," Ginny pointed out, still gazing thoughtfully at her plate.

"One good deed doesn't overshadow the numerous crimes he's committed." Finally taking a bite of the chicken, but finding no taste in it, Harry immediately grabbed his glass of water and gulped it down. "It's all probably a scheme. He's trying to make Mione' think he cares or something. He'll turn on her and she'll regret it."

"He loves her," George stated quietly from the other end of the table, having listened to Harry's account of Malfoy's appearance at St. Mungo's earlier that day. "Well, as much as Malfoy can love someone."

"Bollocks!" Harry snarled, slamming his glass down and upsetting several other plates. "Malfoy loves himself and his money."

"Money, which he parted with, the moment he knew Hermione was going to be taken to the Ministry," Fred pointed out in an effort to support his twin's claim. "Come on Harry, even you have to admit how strange it was that Malfoy came to us at all about those threats. Then George said when he found her that night in her shop he looked almost sick and wouldn't hardly let anyone near her."

"I think she loves him too," Ginny stated, raising her gaze to meet her husband's furious green eyes. "She wouldn't have just walked away with him if she didn't. Mione's stubborn and even Malfoy couldn't make her do something she didn't want to."

"You're all fucking nutters!" Harry shouted, coming to his feet almost overturning his chair.

"Language!" Molly Weasley admonished from the other end of the table, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. "Ginny and George might be right, but for now we need to focus on what Hermione needs, and that is comfort and understanding. If after her parents are laid to rest and she's mourned them a bit you still think her situation with that Malfoy boy isn't safe discuss it then."

"Harry, I think Molly's right," Arthur said quietly, trying to remain unaffected by the younger man's outburst. "Our Mione needs some time to sort this all out and Ginny's right in saying that if she hadn't wanted to go with him she wouldn't have. She's got a right good head on her shoulders she does."

"Does everyone remember we are talking about Draco Malfoy! His father was a proclaimed Death Eater that died in an escape attempt from Azkaban. His mother is in hiding probably taking secrets to her grave that could have ended the war sooner. Merlin, does no one remember that he allowed Hogwarts to be attacked and nearly killed the professor!" Harry raked a hand through his dark and hair unable to believe what he was hearing. His family, the only family he had ever really known and trusted was making excuses for his greatest enemy.

"You didn't see him Harry," George asserted again. "All I'm saying is that somewhere along the way he's developed feelings for her, and if his reactions from finding her that night are any indication I wouldn't advise challenging him right now."

"She's blind and she's let herself believe that he's changed, that he has any decency left."

"Then if he's so rotten and evil still, why did he toss over half of his inheritance to the Ministry after two hours in Scrimgeour's office?" Ron asked, eating despite the conflict surrounding him. After all he'd had a seriously depressing day with Percy scowling and ordering everyone around in his anger at being bested by Malfoy. Secretly, Ron was pleased that someone had finally put Percy in his place, and if it had to be Malfoy well, that was all right this time.

"Like I said, money is all he knows how to use to fix and find solutions to his problems," Harry said, grudgingly thinking to sit again and finish the dinner. Molly had gone to so much trouble as always and he didn't want to appear anymore rude than he already had been.

"Apparently from what I was told when I got to the Ministry this morning there was yelling Harry, lots of it, and mostly from Malfoy," Ron stated, after taking a long drink from his glass. "Scrimgeour's mood wasn't any better than Percy's after Malfoy left, and he had Percy file the Du Marier case elsewhere. He told him to find something else to focus on and then he had Neville returned Hermione's marriage certificate to the public records."
"Scrimgeour probably made him own up to his crimes and Malfoy didn't like hearing…"

"Malfoy threatened Scrimgeour that he would make certain the other Pureblood families withdrew their support from the Ministry, monetary support that is. Now, Scrimgeour, knowing the value of galleon just like anyone else of course, can't have that," Ron explained.

"Malfoy's a criminal. He's got nothing to stand on reputation wise," Harry argued settling back down in his seat.

"Those wealthy Purebloods stick together Harry. They might not agree that he's taken a Muggle-Born for a wife, but they'd jump at the opportunity to spurn the Ministry. Scrimgeour knows this, and so does Malfoy," Ron assured his friend with a raised brow.

"Do you think he took her back to the shop or that manor of his?" Ginny asked, sensing Harry's tension growing by the second. He rarely got angry now, the war being over he'd been able to push aside some of his darker emotions, but where Malfoy was concerned the hatred, the loathing was so intense it frightened her at times.

"That manor," Harry grunted. "Thinks he'll hide her away and no one can make her see how terribly insane she is for being with him."

"The manor actually would be safer," Ron mused, biting his lower lip, deep in thought. "The shop is too open to the public and easily accessible. Malfoy'd unleash some kind of creature on anyone I'm sure that darkened his gates without his permission."

"Do you think we ought to go tomorrow and make certain she's all right?" Ginny asked, stealing a glance beneath her lashes at Harry to gauge his response.

"I think that would be a good idea," Arthur said, encouragingly.

"Ginny, I forbid you to go anywhere near that bastard," Harry said, tersely. "Let Ron and the twins delude themselves if they want but…."
"Harry Potter, did you just forbid me to go and see my friend?" Ginny asked her voice low, but angry.

"Malfoy is your friend? Since when?"
"Not Malfoy you dense git!" she cried standing as he had done earlier. "Hermione. If Mione's at the manor then I want to go and see for myself that she's okay. I can maybe help her make arrangements for her parents."

"I don't want you near Malfoy."

"Well I'm afraid that it is his home too, so unfortunately, that will be difficult to avoid."

"Gin, Fred and I'll go with you. Will that make you feel better Harry?" George offered, having already decided whether his brother-in-law agreed or not he'd check in on Hermione anyways.

"No it would not!" Harry roared slamming a fist down on the table upsetting more plates again. "What would make me feel better is to not have everyone gloss over Malfoy's transgressions like nothing has happened. He'll make her miserable you all know that!"

"Harry calm down. Now we know how you feel," Ron started, standing up and walking over to place a calming hand on the other man's shoulder.

"I don't think so, because if you did you wouldn't have let him take her this morning. You would have found a way to keep him locked up at the Ministry, and you wouldn't be defending him now!" Harry didn't wait for any response, but he stalked from the room intending to Apparate to the flat he shared with Ginny and wait for her to come home later.

The night had grown very late when their carriage finally made it safely to the manor. It wasn't a warm homecoming. No one was waiting for them except two other house elves who had never left after his mother had fled. Draco suspected that there were others hiding, but hadn't seen any evidence to support the theory. They were too afraid Master Lucius would come back and punish them for deserting their family. Draco knew Hermione would treat him to a sound lecture about keeping them so he devised a payment plan for them. Tossing a few knuts at the little things would be easier than listening to his wife rant at him about the travesty of keeping them without pay. He loved debating with her, but he was sick to death of S.P.E.W and it had only caused her more grief than it was worth. He wanted to forget the whole elvish incident had ever taken place.

To his relief Hermione slept the entire way, only waking when they'd stopped to eat and rest for a bit. She hadn't spoken since that morning and Draco let her have her way, but realized that Neville was right she wasn't herself. To her credit Hermione had walked out of the hospital at his side, head held high, and no indication that she was ready to dissolve into tears at any moment. Draco was actually relieved when she starting crying, knowing that at least in some form she was letting go of some of the grief she must be feeling. Hermione had loved her parents, and obviously they had loved her. It was going to be a difficult transition for her and it didn't help to know that a wizard had murdered them.

This hadn't been how he'd envisioned bringing her home, far from it. The night before when Draco Apparated to the manor he'd been greeted to more cobwebs and vermin than he'd ever encountered. Then, he had to coax the timid little elves from their hiding places and to make matters worse, with no way to Floo, there wasn't any easy access to obtaining clothing and other necessities. Forced to raid his father's closets that had been surprisingly left intact by the Ministry after their search, Draco had hated every minute in the other man's shoes so to speak. While waiting for Scrimgeour to make his appearance in his office Draco made certain to stop in Madam Malkin's so that once he shed the dark robes tonight he could burn them.

Tomorrow Hermione would want to go and retrieve some of her things, but Draco managed to pack a few simple odds and ends he knew she would need with Neville's help. Oddly, the simpering Longbottom had developed more of a backbone since his school years, and Draco knew he was disappointed he would miss the look on Percy's face when Hermione would be released from his custody. It had been rather gratifying.

"Hermione," he whispered shaking her gently afraid that any movement whatsoever would cause her pain. He hated waking her, but trying to carry her asleep from the carriage would be too awkward and could her hurt her more.

"Hmm," Hermione murmured, stifling a small yawn with the back of her hand. Hermione was dreaming again, that Draco had come and kept Percy from taking her away. They were going home, to his home and everything was going to be all right now. Rousing herself she almost sighed with joy to see that it wasn't a dream at all. It was true, he had meant everything he'd said to her about wanting her. He wouldn't have defied Percy like that and brought her to his manor if he didn't.

"We're home now. Do you think you can stand? You've been curled up like this for awhile?" he asked, helping her scoot over in the seat next to him and stretch her legs.

"Yes, those spells we did earlier haven't worn off yet. I'm not in much pain," Hermione assured him, nearly brought to tears by how concerned he sounded. Part of her hated looking weak and wounded in his eyes, but another part absorbed the fact that Draco genuinely cared and wasn't afraid to express that presently.

The carriage halted, and the elf from earlier bounced before them after opening the door. Draco stepped down first welcoming the rush of feeling back into his legs, and stretching a bit himself. Gingerly, Hermione followed not surprised when he was immediately there, grasping her waist and helping her down to the ground. The elf scurried behind them to put the carriage away for the evening, and already the front doors were opening, two other elves appearing before them.

"Master Draco, room all ready," the smallest one, a female said, but cowered as though expecting to be punished at any moment. "Mistress' room ready too."

Hermione felt her stomach drop and she let go of Draco's hand. Separate rooms. So she had misread him after all. How could she have let herself be so foolish and heartsick?

"Mistress Hermione doesn't need a room of her own," Draco said evenly, and took hold of Hermione's hand again, unsure of why she'd suddenly shrank from his touch as though he were poison.

"But Master Draco, Master Lucius and Mistress Narcissa," the other elf started to say timidly. "They request separate rooms, always."

"Mistress Hermione will be sharing my room so go and move her things," Draco ordered, but not harshly, afraid to upset Hermione with an argument over treatment of elves.

"Will Mistress need help bathing and dressing?" the female elf asked shyly, but she had recognized her new mistress at once. This was the kind Muggle witch who helped house elves. She liked her immediately.

"No thank you," Hermione whispered, letting Draco lead her as he had before, toward the winding staircase at the base of the hall.

There was a musty, dank odor in the air, but that was to be expected. The manor had been closed since Draco's mother's disappearance three years ago. The house elves had begun the task of cleaning Hermione could tell. There wasn't any dust on the banister as she glided up the stairs behind her husband. From what little she could see the hall was very large and empty with most of the contents sold at auction long ago. She remembered reading that only Lucius' things hadn't been touched in his bedchamber. Something about darkness and evil probably permeating everything he touched so it wasn't worth purchasing.

It wasn't a long walk to their room and Hermione was thankful for it. She was still weary, and for some reason traveling had always made her tired. They had been riding for hours on end and it felt good to be on her two feet again.

"There's a bathroom right over there and I'm guessing you'll want to take a shower or something," Draco said, ripping off his robe viciously. He threw it on the ground and waved his hand before the fireplace, a bright glowing fire coming to life a second later. To her surprise he took the finely tailored garment and tossed it angrily into the fire watching it sparkle and burn for a time before turning to her. "Will you need some help or are you almost healed?"

"I'll be fine," Hermione whispered taking her own robe off and neatly laying it over the back of a chair. "I thought they sold everything?" she asked peering around to see a rather large bed complete with silken sheets and satin pillows. The chair she had placed her robe on was very old as well, with velvet upholstery.

"Almost everything. Some things were left in the bedrooms. No one wanted to buy anything touched by an evil Malfoy," he sneered, but quickly recovered his face losing its angry cast.

"I'm sorry." It was all Hermione could think of at the moment to say. Silently she removed her blouse and pants as she walked toward the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

As Hermione entered there was a long full-length mirror that hung on the wall encrusted in gold and silver cherubs and dragons around the glass. That was when she saw how ugly her body was now. The bruises on her neck were hideous, but the gash in her side would still need a bit more time to heal and fade. There were scratches that crisscrossed her belly and thighs and she remembered when they had been clawing at her how she had feared they would rape her. Draco would certainly not have wanted her then, she thought.

With a drawn out sigh she filled the tub deciding against a shower, and removed her undergarments. Finding some random scents, mostly masculine, she cleansed herself quickly afraid that Draco would come inside and see how repulsive she looked. To her dismay she heard the door creaking open behind her and without any bubbles to mask her form the clear water left nothing to the imagination. "I'll be out in a moment," she called over her shoulder, unable to meet his gaze.

"There's no hurry, stay in there awhile. It might relax you," Draco said, leaning back against the sink adjacent the massive tub.

He had rid himself completely of his prior clothing now lounging in a simple robe that hung open and pajama bottoms. Though they were silk, like probably everything else in his wardrobe they looked too casual to be something he owned. Standing there in his own domain he looked perfect, unscarred, and handsome. Hermione decided he was nice-looking since he'd given up scowling and smirking at her all of the time, although certain smirks were appealing.

Bunching her shoulders Hermione turned away and tried to cover herself. She felt naked in more ways than one. She was in Draco's home now and the situation was reversed, she was indebted to him. Glancing once out of the corner of her eyes she saw him studying her shrewdly, but not smiling. He probably thought she was as hideous as she knew herself to be. Had he seen the scratches and bruises beneath the water?
"I'm going to kill who ever did that to you," he whispered with a dark edge lacing his words.

"What?" Hermione twisted her head to see Draco's expression, which had grown darker and more menacing. "You've just gotten released from prison, and your service to the Minsitry. Don't you suppose you shouldn't be thinking of ways to end up right back where you started?"

"You're trying to hide what they did and I'll see for myself now or I can wait until you're ready for bed. Either way I want to know that you're really healing."

Hermione sunk farther into the water having hoped to be fully clothed before encountering him again. Odd, but she'd never cared about what she looked like, how her body was shaped, or if it was striking before. Since she'd let Draco into her life however, she'd become a bit more attentive to such things as her hair and which article of clothing to wear. She'd never been sloppy but lately she'd made an extra effort to appear more attractive.

Hermione glared back at him tears threatening her again. This was difficult for her, couldn't he see that? "I thought you said to relax?"

"So I did," Draco amended, and appearing outwardly at ease he kept his distance only his clenched jaw betraying his true mood.

"Are you just going to stand there and stare?" She was hugging her knees to her chest and the water had started to get a little cold. If he never saw her again Hermione would be fine with that.

"I'm not going to fight with you, not tonight." Sighing, Draco left her in peace and she waited to hear him moving about in the bedroom.

Slowly Hermione drew herself up hating how stiff her muscles were and how drained of energy she seemed. Wrapping a nearby towel around her she stepped out carefully wincing when she turned and her side burned painfully. Pausing she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror again, and undid the knot in the towel, morbidly wanting to see how bad the damage was. The bruises and red marks glared back at her as they had earlier and she was even more certain the gash on her right side would leave a scar. Sometimes Muggle weapons, knives, were more damaging than hexes and curses.

"You're certain they couldn't have done anymore for you?"

Jumping and drawing the towel around her again Hermione glared at him over her shoulder. "I'm sorry, but even healers can't always mend the skin flawlessly."

Trying to push past him, Draco caught her arm gently but firmly. "That's not what I meant and you know that. Longbottom helped me get some of your things from the flat. I thought you'd feel more comfortable sleeping in your own gowns or pajamas or something."

Silently, Hermione took the offered garment, and easily pulled away from him again, walking into the bedroom. Hurriedly she dropped the towel and slipped into the nightgown feeing somewhat better having something familiar around her even if it was only clothing. There was a chill in the air and she was drawn to the warmth from the fire walking over and splaying her hands out before the flames.

"You're probably not going to want to talk about this, but we'll need to see about taking care of your parents in the morning. Longbottom told me you hadn't starting thinking about any arrangements yet." Draco didn't know where to begin with her, and after seeing, if but briefly, the rest of the marks on her body he couldn't trust himself to discuss that subject with her calmly.

"I'll take care of it myself," Hermione said in a clipped tone, her eyes never leaving the dancing flames.

"Stop it," Draco snapped before he could help himself. "I let you do this before, keep everything inside and not show how you truly felt after the search, but not this time." He was at her side in a few steps a hand resting on her shoulder. "Your parents died, we have to bury them, and I'll take you wherever you need to go tomorrow."

"Did you see what they did to me?"

Draco knew she meant her attackers but had hoped not to broach that subject anymore tonight. "Yes, but I don't want to talk about that now. We should focus on your parents and…"

"Because they're ugly, the bruises the scars. I guess I'm lucky they didn't do anything else," Hermione trailed off her hands falling to her sides.

Drawing in a sharp breath Draco turned her to face him more abruptly than he'd intended. "Anything else?" He was remembering the bruises on top of her thighs and lower stomach. Longbottom surely would have warned him if Hermione had been violated any further.

"You most likely wouldn't have come to the hospital if they had raped me," Hermione shrugged, still looking to the side, into the fire.

Sighing with relief that she hadn't been hurt in such a manner Draco had to remember to not lose his temper no matter how infuriating she attempted to be. "I'm not going to even ask you why you'd think I wouldn't have found a way to divert the Ministry's attention, but that's beside the point. Let's get some rest and we'll decide what needs to be done in the morning."

"You said a record at the Ministry would be a blot on your wife's reputation. Wouldn't rape be the same thing?"

"That is taken out of context, and I don't really want to discuss this…"

"Why not, because your answer might be too truthful, too damning for you?"

"This isn't how I wanted things to go tonight. You need your rest and tomorrow we'll sort out what needs to be done."

"I need to be alone," Hermione snapped, finally meeting his eyes. "Maybe I should take that room the elves made up for me." She didn't know where her words were coming from and deep down she rationally knew she wasn't making any sense. How Draco had managed to convince Scrimgeour to release her without additional questioning was a mystery, but somehow he had and instead of giving in to the urge to throw herself in his arms she was making the situation worse.

A muscle jerked furiously in cheek, and Draco let go of her stepping away. "Would you rather be at that underground hovel with the Weasleys? Are you that sorry you told everyone you married me then?"

"No," Hermione whimpered, padding over to the bed and crawling between the sheets, but sitting up hugging her knees. "I'm not sorry I told them."

She felt him rather than saw him slip in beside her noiselessly. "Nothing short of my death could have kept me from coming to the hospital for you. After four days of thinking you were dead I would've dragged you to the manor with me if you had tried to leave with the Weasleys."

Lying flat on his back Draco said nothing more, waiting to hear if she would respond. Hermione slid down into the bed barely touching him. "I told you I'd choose you, remember."

Until she'd spoken Draco didn't grasp how much he had needed to hear those words. Today she had walked away from everyone she'd been afraid would desert her and she had walked away with him. "I thought as intelligent as you are you wouldn't let a few scars mean anything to you. Surely you know they wouldn't matter to the people that love you."

In her heart Hermione had suspected, but hearing the words, even in such a roundabout way set her free somehow. She didn't have to hide and be brave all of the time. She didn't have to have all of the answers or look for them. Rolling to her side, thankfully her left, she could barely discern his face in the dark. "I should also know when to let the people I love help me, and not push them away." Instinctively she knew she couldn't openly say the words yet. Draco wasn't ready to accept it so freely.

Curling up against his side as she had done for some many nights she welcomed the arms that came about her letting the tears silently fall again. "I told my father terrible things, all of the things you said and did in school, that you went to prison. He would've hated you, but after today I think you might have started to earn his trust. I know they were Muggle but you might have liked my parents, maybe."

At that moment Draco would've welcomed the entire Granger family tree Muggle or not. Having her safe and finally secure in the knowledge that undoubtedly, without question he had her loyalty and love, was enough to make Muggles tolerable if it pleased her. Though, he'd have to grit his teeth before allowing them inside the manor, but Hermione didn't need to know that. Muggle in-laws, well they would have been more bearable than his own parents might have been to her.

Draco still wondered what his mother would say, but her opinion on the subject didn't truly matter much. She'd never taken an interest in him until it was almost too late and she'd managed to coerce Snape into his vow. The choices he'd made had bettered his life and if she refused to see it in that respect, that was her misfortune.

"Why did you think I was dead?" Hermione asked raising her head slightly.

"Percy," he muttered with obvious disgust. "The night you were found he thought he could force me to confess. I think he suspected I was innocent but couldn't resist the opportunity to try and prove otherwise. After awhile he finally got tired of me ignoring him and asking about your condition and told me you'd gotten worse at St. Mungo's. He then led me to believe you hadn't survived."

"I should have told them sooner." Biting her lower lip, Hermione was unable to stop the flow of tears that seemed endless now. There was so much to grieve for, her parents, the relationships with her friends that were changed forever. "You wouldn't have had to gone back. It couldn't have been easy."

"Let's leave it that there are no more secrets and we're home where we belong. As for the Ministry I doubt Scrimgeour will be bothering either of us for quite some time, most likely never," Draco assured he,r not wanting to remember those days of loneliness and grief. There had been too many misunderstandings and allowing himself to admit the depths of his feelings was a new experience. It was refreshing and terrifying all at once. Maybe that was what his father had feared the most, emotions? They didn't make you weak, they made you strong, and as along as those around him felt nothing, they were nothing, empty and lifeless. They weren't a threat to him.

"I'm not even going to ask how you were able to get Scrimgeour to simply drop the case against me or got him to write whatever was in that note to Percy." She leaned over and pressed her lips to his softy. "Thank you."

"Prison just didn't suit you, and I would have had to bribe Longbottom to help you escape. Living a life on the run wouldn't have appealed to either of us," Draco said simply, tucking a stray curl behind her ear that had fallen from the knot on top of her head.

"You aren't going to tell anyone that Neville was involved before are you?"

"I should. He should share the blame, but," Draco sighed, having decided that as long as she was talking and returning to him somewhat he shouldn't press any other issues. "He's proven helpful. I'm not giving you permission to have him to tea, but he's not as dimwitted as he was when we were younger. I'll give him credit where it's due."

Nodding, that was the best Hermione would get as far as a compliment about any of her friends from her husband. There were years of bad blood and anger behind them that would take time to sort through, and some things might never be forgotten. Feeling more at ease she put her head back down on his shoulder and closed her eyes. "We'll have to go to Neath tomorrow. It will be all Muggle until we speak with the barrister. He's handled our family's affairs and such for years and he knows about my connection to the Wizarding World. Can you endure it for that long?"

"Let's worry about making the arrangements and not so much who we're dealing with to make them." Truth be told an entire day surrounded by the filthy beasts didn't set well, but it was a necessary evil. He knew his prejudices were one-sided and selective, but he didn't see his wife as a Muggle. Who could after she'd graduated with more pomp and circumstance than any witch or wizard to ever grace the halls of Hogwarts?

"Fair enough," Hermione yawned softly, and drifted to sleep sensing that perhaps she could deal with the ordeal to come. Burying her parents, seeing them in deathly repose would be the most difficult thing she had ever done, but with her husband at her side she could stand it.