Chapter Ten
In Order
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The slow walk upstairs to his room had been a cathartic one, and as Draco sat down on the day bed by the fire, sinking into the down filled cushions; he felt on overwhelming sense of release. Tonight, in front of some of the most influential and important people in the war against Voldemort he had pushed aside his mask and let them see who he truly was; and to his relief, they had not rejected him.
The knock on the door did not startle him; he had been expecting that Madame Pomfrey would want to check his wounds before she left. "Come in." He called, and to his surprise it was not Madame Pomfrey who entered, but Ron Weasley.
Ron stood two feet inside the room, looking at Malfoy with a strange expression on his face as though he had something to say but did not know how.
"Malfoy, I…" Ron seemed to stumble over his words. "I know I was a prat earlier and, well, I wanted to…you know…" he shrugged.
The old Draco would have laughed to see Ron so tongue tied; instead Draco only wanted to put Ron out of his misery.
"I earned it Ron; and yeah…I know." Draco nodded, keenly aware of what this unspoken apology was costing Ron and what it meant for himself.
Ron pulled something out from behind his back, "Thought you might want something decent to read, you know, other than Hermione's textbooks." He offered a thick, well thumbed volume to Draco with a shrug "You know, if you wanted…"
Draco crossed the room and took the volume from Ron 'Quidditch through the Ages', of all the things he missed about Hogwarts, and there were many, Quidditch came high up the list.
A smile lit his face as he flipped through a few pages. "Thanks Ron, I really appreciate this."
Ron seemed not to know whether to smile or not, so instead he merely nodded and mumbled something about making himself a sandwich and he would see him tomorrow as he slipped out of the room.
Laying down on the day bed, the book held against his chest, the smile stayed on Draco's face; it appeared that Ron had been willing to accept what he had told him and had even made a small gesture of acceptance towards him. It was more than he could have hoped for from the notoriously moody redhead.
Movement at the door drew his attention and he looked up to see Hermione standing in the doorway carrying a small potion bottle and watching him with a quizzical expression.
"I just saw Ron come out of here and I wanted to make sure you were still alive." She said with a small smile.
"He came to drop off this book." Draco said as Hermione crossed the floor to sit on the day bed opposite his, he held out the book to her and she took it, flipping it open to the first page 'Property of Ronald B. Weasley – Gryffindor Keeper'. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she realized what this meant.
"And, it's not even jinxed!" Draco said softly; unable to keep the humor from his voice, as he watched her come to the same realization that he had. "Unless my 'perfect' hair is now perfectly purple?"
Hermione smiled at him. "No, your perfect hair is still perfectly blonde, a little too long, but still perfectly blonde." She teased.
"So, I take it that the real reason you are here is to inflict more of that healing potion on me?" Draco said with a wry smile, his head leaning back against the buttery soft cushions of the bed." I think you take great pleasure in the fact that it takes absolutely awful and that I have to take it to get well."
"Absolutely" Hermione grinned, "In fact every time I give you a dose of this it erases one more 'mudblood' from my memory, so, if my calculations are correct you only have about…"
"About 3,622 more doses to go until I am redeemed!" he grimaced, looking at her from beneath the veil of his lashes "Hermione, about those times at school, I…"
"Draco, I was joking. You explained your situation very eloquently and honestly this evening. As far as I am concerned, we started anew the night you turned up here after rescuing Tonks." Hermione looked at him and he could not doubt her words as the conviction behind them shone bright in her eyes. "Now, drink this or I'll go get Madam Pomfrey and she'll give you all sorts of foul tasting potions to drink."
"Yes Ma'am!" Draco said, the smallest of smiles on his lips as he drank the foul tasting potion in a single gulp, shuddering as it made its way down this throat.
Hermione sat down again on the day bed.
"So, in spite of the foul potion I just administered, how are you feeling?"
Draco took a deep breath and let it out slowly, "Honestly, I'm tired and hungry but too energized to sleep. I feel like the weight of twenty years of trying to be something I am not, has been lifted from my shoulders and I cannot remember a time when I felt this…" he seemed to be searching for the right word.
"Free?" Hermione suggested, the word being the only one that seemed to fit the expression on Draco's face.
"Exactly!" He grinned.
Despite the bruises that still marred his face and the cuts that were healing slowly on his body, Draco Malfoy was a man made new. Hermione could not help but smile at his enthusiasm at his new found sense of freedom.
"Do you know Draco, I can't remember ever seeing you really smile before." She said softly.
The smile dimmed a little, but did not leave his lips entirely.
"I never really had much to smile about, even before the war. My father told me from the day I could understand him, that I was less than nothing; that I was dirt beneath his feet and should be treated as such. It was only as I grew older that he saw I could be of benefit to him in some way, so he made small overtures, nothing more than civility, but I was so desperate to have him …not even love me…just for him to 'like' me that I did almost anything he asked, all except that one thing. I had a crappy childhood, it happens, but I made a choice two years ago and I'm glad I made the right one. Is it crazy, do you think, to be in the middle of his war, with insanity all around me and be this happy?"
"I think you have to take moments of happiness when and where you find them. Sometimes they don't come along that often." Hermione said softly.
Draco looked at her; her voice had been tinged with such sadness even as she spoke of happiness. "Hermione, you know all about what happened to me since the start of the war, and I just realized I have no idea…what about you, how have things been for you?"
Hermione looked a little shocked that he had asked her something personal and he immediately assumed she was going to brush the question off.
"I'm sorry" He said, putting his hands up "I had no right to ask such a personal…"
Hermione shook her head, "No, it's not that….it's just…no-one has asked me that in such a long time. I'm not even sure I know the answer…"
Draco's stomach gave a large growl, promptly breaking the tension in the room and causing them to look at each other and smile.
"Food?" Hermione asked.
Draco slipped on the robe that was laying across the back of the day bed, "If you can show me where everything is kept, I can make us some sandwiches and we can continue this talk… if you want I mean."
"Draco…I…." Hermione looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"It's Ok, you don't need to talk to me today, or tomorrow or ever if you don't want to. I understand that sometimes things are just…well…personal."
Hermione merely nodded "I'll take you up on the sandwich though" she said with a small smile.
Draco nodded, if that was all that was on offer, then for now it would be ok.
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The next three days found The Order a hive of activity as Moody and Lupin took Draco through several more interrogations under the newly Ministry of Magic sanctioned 'WWW Vigente Veritas Serum', and gained several key pieces of information on the hierarchy of the Death Eaters, locations that Draco and his father had visited in the past and plans that Draco had been privy too before his incarceration.
One such piece of information had led to Harry, Ron, Hermione, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Lupin and six other Order members from the Ministry, heading to Bristol to take out an elite group of Death Eaters whose murderous deeds had held the wizarding community in the area firmly in a state of abject fear for the last four months.
The information that Draco had given them, had led the capture of seven of the elite group and the deaths of fifteen others. Of the seven captured Death Eaters, the two to cause the most excitement amongst the group had been Antonin Dolohov and Rabastan LeStrange whose close relationship to Voldemort, and on whose sadistic powers he relied to ply the trade of fear in remote communities, made them worthy candidates for the Vigente Veritas in interrogation.
Hermione had been more relieved than usual, as she finally walked into the darkened hallway of Number Twelve that night. Like most of the other young members of the Order, she was still ill at ease with that aspect of their missions that resulted in the death of another wizard, however justified that death might be. The battle tonight had been bloody and hard fought, and she knew no sleeping draught would be strong enough to slay the demons that would haunt her sleep for the next week.
Harry and Ron looked like she felt; stumbling up the stairs, clothing torn and covered in dirt, with eyes that showed the toll the war was taking on them all.
"Alright Hermione?" Ron asked as he approached her in the hallway, he looked at her weary eyes, threatening to spill over with unshed tears; and pulled her into a fierce hug.
"Never better." She said, her voice sounding small and broken against the rough wool of his jacket. "You?" she asked him; Ron merely nodded curtly, letting go of a shaky breath as he released her.
"Alright Harry?" she asked, as he staggered to the top of the stairs to stand beside them.
"Never better." Harry said softly, although his haunted green eyes said otherwise as he put his arm around her shoulders and rested his chin on her head for a brief moment.
This had become their ritual since the start of the war. They had never talked openly about the toll that the war was taking on them, this simple, physical gesture of support between them was their only acknowledgement of their desperate situation, so far removed from the dreams they'd had of their lives when they were children.
Although a minor victory had been won today, it came at far too high a price for those who resided at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place to enjoy.
Indeed the following days would find many an Order member far from sleep in the dead of night.