Chapter Thirteen

For days after both the fire that destroyed his home and Hermione's confession, Draco's head had been spinning. He had no reason to believe she wasn't telling the full truth even if it did sound impossible. If she was lying, it was an elaborate lie that he didn't think she was capable of telling. Didn't people often say truth was stranger than fiction? He could've sworn he'd heard that before.

Even just thinking about going against the Dark Lord in such an aggressive way was scary. Stronger, more powerful witches and wizards than him tried and failed painfully. Knowing what Hermione and the others were doing while he was sleeping soundly in his Hogwarts dormitory gave him a newfound respect for his former rivals. Begrudging though it might be, he could admire their bravery. Adults were too scared to fight against the Dark Lord, but he was essentially brought down by an unremarkable teenager with loyal friends. What a humbling experience that would've been if his old master survived long enough to realize it.

Draco had never been brave. Not really. He learned from the time he was a small child that courageous people usually died young. That wasn't a fate he ever desired. Deciding to risk his life to help Hermione might not end well for him, but oddly, he was ready to try. He was even a little excited.

Memories of what it was like to be forced into becoming a Death Eater were never far from his mind. He could never forget how terrified he was every single second he was awake. His fear even flooded his dreams on the rare occasion he was able to sleep. He couldn't have been the only one who became a Death Eater against their will. Maybe he could stop others from going down that path and ruining their lives. The Dark Lord wasn't as powerful yet as he would be. Was Hermione correct in assuming it would be easier to bring him down? Sometimes he couldn't believe how much like a Gryffindor he was starting to sound like. Hermione had a terrible influence on him.

Carefully he tried to exit their shared room as quietly as possible. Hermione was still fast asleep in the bed he'd been a perfect gentleman to offer. Despite him being the only one with a job that left him physically exhausted at the end of every day, she slept each night as if she hadn't slept for months. If the horcrux affected her as much as it did, maybe she hadn't.

Borgin's death weighed heavily on her too. Often when she was awake she was near tears. Draco hated that she felt even the tiniest sliver of guilt. She should be proud that the world was a better place without that cretin still alive preying on vulnerable young women. He would've killed him himself if he saw him try to force himself on Hermione. It didn't even matter that he was trying to frame Draco for crimes he never committed. He was far more angry about what he did to Hermione.

His stomach grumbled at the smell of the bacon Tom was frying behind the bar, but he didn't dare stop. Another meal in the tavern would only add to the large debt he'd already accumulated. He tried not to worry about the fact that soon he would be out of money. It was an embarrassing dilemma he had never experienced. If he ever needed money, he asked one of his parents. Neither of them ever denied him anything. Perhaps he would've known better how to handle his current predicament if they had.

"There you are, Draco. Good morning."

Unfortunately, he wasn't fast enough. Draco stopped to greet The Leaky Cauldron's proprietor with a friendly smile he didn't quite feel. Perhaps understanding how awkward and uncomfortable the situation would be, Tom simply slid a piece of parchment across the bar without saying a word. Draco struggled to keep his true feelings off of his face when he saw the bill he knew he could not pay. He smiled as if he didn't have a care in the world even as he feared he might be sick.

"Thank you, Tom. This will be taken care of by the end of the day."

If the kind proprietor thought him a liar, he didn't say so. Draco exited the tavern with confidence. It was only when he was outside next to the entrance to Diagon Alley that he allowed himself to worry. Even if he and Hermione pooled every single bronze knut in their possession, it wouldn't cover half of their bill. Why did he insist they stay there for so long? They should've gone straight to somewhere cheaper the day of the fire.

Where would they go when they were thrown out of The Leaky Cauldron? Neither of them had much left. The meager savings she saved from the fire was gone. Supporting them both on his wages from the shop wasn't possible even with all of the extra hours he'd been working. Hermione hadn't had any success in finding a new job even though he knew she had been trying. It seemed bizarre. Christmas was only a couple of weeks away. All of the shops were busy and he had seen many signs that they were hiring. Why didn't she have a job yet? Anything would've been better than nothing.

He needed help. There was nothing else that could be done. Even if he was successful in finding a second job, there weren't enough hours in the day to work one. Running out on the bill wasn't an option. Tom knew where he worked. Wizarding society was too small to get away with that particular crime.

His gaze landed on the owl post office just ahead. Usually he walked past the building without giving it a second thought. Who did he have in the past to send post to? The answer to his problem became painfully clear. He stepped inside the office. With a great deal of reluctance, he pushed aside his pride to scribble off a letter to his grandfather. Whether or not he accepted the offer to pretend to be Abraxas' nephew was no longer in his hands. He had to do what was necessary.

The letter was short, to the point. How else did one ask for money? When it was sealed and attached to an owl's leg, he was tempted to beg for the letter back. He'd been so determined to make it on his own that asking for help felt like a failure. He bit his tongue until the creature was out the open window and on the way to its destination. There was nothing left to do. Once he handed over the last of his money to pay the fee for the owl, Draco resumed his walk to work.

He tried not to be resentful of Hermione, but it was no use. How could she not have another job yet? It had only taken him minutes to find his current position. Was it pride that kept her from accepting another job she believed was beneath her? He hadn't shown her how much they owed Tom, but surely she was aware their money wouldn't last forever? Could she not just take something temporarily or was that too much to ask?

By the time he finally reached The Magic Chicory, Draco was somehow able to push his anger aside. There was no sense worrying about something outside of his control. He would have the uncomfortable conversation that evening with Hermione about why she didn't have a job. Until then, he would only drive himself mad worrying.

All day long he felt distracted. Because he made a conscious effort not to think about money, his mind wandered to the other topic he hadn't been able to stop thinking about: the Dark Lord's horcruxes. He was anxious to get started on their mission. One was already destroyed, but several others remained. He wanted them to concoct a solid plan on how they would proceed.

Never had he been so anxious to cause physical harm to anyone before. Draco wanted to kill the maniac who was responsible for ruining his family and destroying his childhood. It was personal. How much different would his life have been if none of the members of his family were seduced by the Dark Lord's promises of power and a wizarding utopia that would never be possible? He liked to think he might have been just a normal child. Was that too much to hope for?

He was under no delusion that killing the Dark Lord would be easy. No, there was a very definite possibility that one or both of them might not survive the ordeal. It would be worth it though. If they could stop him before he turned their world upside down, he would be glad to die. Of course he would never say that out loud lest someone mistake him for a Gryffindor. He didn't want glory and he wasn't brave. There simply were more important things than just existing to a ripe old age. He wanted his life to mean something, to have a purpose.

The end of his shift arrived far before he was ready. Not wanting to have the discussion with Hermione about a job, he took his time leaving the shop. When there was finally nothing left for him to do but return to The Leaky Cauldron, Draco stepped out into the cold evening.

Abraxas Malfoy stood just outside the front door. Startled to see his grandfather waiting for him, he wasn't sure what to do or say. Other than that one day in The Leaky Cauldron, they'd never addressed each other in public. Diagon Alley was still bustling with activity. He finally decided to act more confident than he really felt.

"I didn't expect you to reply to my letter in person."

"Yes, well, there are some topics that are best discussed face to face."

His grandfather actually seemed nervous. Draco had never seen him look anything less than perfectly at ease and in charge prior to their previous meeting. It was strange to see him act like a real, normal person. When Draco was a boy he always loomed larger than life. It was all too easy to forget he was just a person.

"I paid your bill at The Leaky Cauldron. I don't feel comfortable paying for a single room, so I also paid for the room next door through the end of the month."

Draco felt his cheeks burn. Pride was such a prickly emotion, especially for a Malfoy.

"That was very generous of you… sir. Thank you."

"I'm hoping that your owl this morning means you have considered my offer to claim you as my nephew."

He didn't know what to say in response. All his letter stated was he had been having some financial difficulties after the fire and wondered if he could ask for a loan. While he knew what Abraxas would expect of him, he never admitted that he would go along with his plan. Was he ready to make such a drastic decision about his life? Just like he wondered that morning, did he have a choice any longer or had he given up the chance to walk away?

"Let me show you my home before you make your decision. There's still a great deal we need to discuss."

Silently, Draco followed his grandfather to one of the Apparition points in the Alley. Following the fire and the mad rush of people trying to get out, the Ministry decided to make some changes in the name of safety. Apparition wasn't possible everywhere, but it was easier to enter and exit the shopping district. At least some good came out of Hermione's reckless casting of Fiendfyre.

"Please grasp my arm and I will Apparate us inside the gates of the estate. If you choose to make Malfoy Manor your home, I will change the wards to allow you access on your own."

It was slightly encouraging that Abraxas wasn't insisting or demanding Draco make up his mind yet. Perhaps that impatience or that requirement that his desires be met no matter what developed when he grew older. He could see flashes of the formidable, terrifying tyrant he might one day still become, but he wasn't there yet. Maybe there was even hope he never would if the timeline continued to change.

Draco was nervous to return to his childhood home. The sickness he felt in his stomach when they landed inside the gates couldn't be blamed entirely on the Side-Along Apparition. He hadn't been home in nearly a year and it felt far longer. What would it be like to be there again?

Just the Dark Lord's presence in his family home ruined it. Even if he hadn't fallen through time with no way to get back, he wouldn't have wanted to live there ever again. Maybe he would've tried for his mother's benefit, but he didn't see that working out for long. He fantasized about blowing it up and burning it to the ground after his father died. Lucius would never allow it during his lifetime no matter how wretched the memories.

"Our family has been here since the time of William the Conqueror. The house has been expanded a few times over the centuries, but I can assure you it's quite comfortable."

For a moment Draco had a flashback to his childhood when his grandfather would describe at length their family's long history. The older he grew, the more verbose Abraxas became in regards to family honor and pride. Draco was glad he didn't live long enough to see how low his son brought their family thanks to his unsavory associations. He would be ashamed of how the Malfoy family was treated during and after the last war.

"It's very impressive, sir. I like the gardens."

Abraxas didn't even try to hide his pleased smile. Exceedingly proud of his home, he kept up a running commentary about the grounds and the architecture of the manor as they walked up the long gravel driveway. Some of Draco's anxiety lessened the longer he was there. The entire estate felt different than he remembered, much more like it had when he was an innocent child between the two wars. It didn't feel oppressive or dark as it did in his own time. Perhaps his favorite part was the simple fact he saw none of his father's damned peacocks strutting about.

He held his breath when Abraxas opened the large front door. Would the illusion burst the moment he stepped inside? There was poison in the manor when he was there last. Part of him feared it had always been there, but it was unnoticeable until he was older and affected by the horrors and atrocities he witnessed. For at least the first few moments inside the grand entrance hall, he wasn't sure he could trust what he felt.

The Darkness was gone. Of course while he would never deny that the Malfoy family had a long history with magic many considered dark, the taint of the Dark Lord's insidious presence couldn't be felt. Draco took a deep breath. It would't be too difficult to move back into his old home if Abraxas required it as terms of their agreement. At least he knew he could relax there just like he had as a child. Knowing how much the manor would change in the future if the timeline wasn't corrected, he felt even more anxious to kill the Dark Lord.

"I'll give you a tour then we can discuss details like gentlemen in the library over a drink."

There wasn't much activity in the manor. It was all very quiet. Over the generations, like so many other families that clung too tightly to the archaic ideas about blood purity, the Malfoy family had shrunk considerably. Hundreds of years earlier the Malfoy family tree could boast of branches that had ten or eleven children. Draco had been the last in his correct timeline. There had been no cousins to play with and though he knew his parents tried, no siblings either. Theirs was a dying family. If drastic changes weren't made, their name would die off in all but history books.

"And through here is the drawing room…"

The discomfort Draco felt earlier in his stomach returned when his grandfather led him into the worst room of the entire house. After that dreadful night when Hermione was captured with her friends, he'd avoided the cursed space as much as possible. No one bothered to clean up the mess of the chandelier for months. He was surprised his mother even bothered, but she said she was determined to get their home back to how it used to be. He admired her determination even as he cursed the futility.

His eyes went straight to the floor where Hermione was subjected to his aunt's torture. He could still hear the echoes of her screams. How could she have ever forgiven him for standing by and doing nothing to stop Bellatrix? He hated himself for his fear and cowardice. No, he never wanted to be a reckless Gryffindor, but he should've done something. Hermione could've easily died that night. Or worse. Greyback had been promised what was left when Bellatrix was finished. The monster had a terrible and well-earned reputation. Death would've been better for Hermione than whatever he had planned. Could Draco have been brave enough to stop Greyback if their old house-elf never showed up? He liked to hope he would've.

"Are you all right, Draco?"

Abraxas' voice brought him back to reality. Embarrassed he'd been caught lost in his thoughts, Draco merely cleared his throat and assured his grandfather he was fine. There would be no satisfactory way to explain the truth even if he wanted to.

"I'm sure this is all very overwhelming. I have no idea what sort of home you grew up in."

"It was very different than this one."

He was grateful when Abraxas didn't want to linger long in the drawing room. Outside the corridor he was able to breathe a little easier. They continued through most of the important rooms on the ground floor.

As they climbed the main staircase in the front hall to the first floor, Draco kept expecting a door to open and his father to walk out. Hogwarts would be out soon for the Christmas holidays but he wasn't sure when exactly. He didn't know if he was relieved not to see his father or disappointed. What was eleven year old Lucius like? What did he look like? Was he very different from how he remembered?

"And this was my brother's bedroom."

Once again Draco allowed his mind to wander far enough that he wasn't paying attention to where they were heading. He followed Abraxas inside his old bedroom without even realizing it at first.

"We left Septimus' room alone, hoping he would find his way back, but I'm not sure that's going to happen. You could move in today if you wished."

It felt surreal being inside his bedroom again. Not much about it had really changed. The books and old toys lining the bookshelves were different of course, but the furniture was mostly the same. Did he ever know he was living in his lost great-uncle's bedroom? If he did, he couldn't remember. Maybe it was something he heard once and never thought was important.

"Now, let's go back downstairs and have that drink I mentioned."

For the second time that day, Draco could tell his grandfather was nervous. Why? He had a number of questions but wasn't sure where to start. Before he should stop himself, he blurted out one.

"Will I be meeting Mrs. Malfoy today?"

Shame colored Abraxas' fair cheeks. Clearly he didn't want to answer that question.

"Mrs. Malfoy is staying with her mother in Kent for a few days."

There was more he wasn't saying. Would he eventually open up or was he employing the familiar Malfoy family tactic of pretending all was well when it wasn't? Draco wasn't very close with his father's mother, but it always seemed as if she was happy with his grandfather. Didn't he mention being happily married? Was that true?

Abraxas went straight for the small bar cart set up in the manor's library when they entered the room. As he poured some of his finest fire whiskey into two glasses, he pointed to two chairs next to the fireplace. Draco waited for his grandfather to take his time. When he was handed his glass, he could see visible distress on the older wizard's face.

"My wife and I had a disagreement this morning after I read your letter. Leonie could sense something was wrong. I've tried very hard to be as honest with her as possible, but I neglected to tell her I had a son before Lucius."

"I'm sorry if my letter…"

"No, there is nothing you need apologize for. You did nothing wrong. I should've told her long ago that I had a son, but I was ashamed."

"Because you thought I was a squib?"

Perhaps he was being too blunt far too early in their relationship, but Draco had to know. It upset him more than he realized it would when he discovered the family rumors were true. How could his relatives go on and on about the importance of family and then just abandon one of their own because of an affliction they had no control over? It was cruel. What other imperfections did he have to worry about that might get him thrown out the same way?

"It wasn't entirely in my hands, you know. When your mother told me you were a squib and then demanded money for your care in Belgium, I thought it was the most sensible course of action. I was young, heartbroken, and out of my depth. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, Draco, but your father is far from perfect."

"I never expected my father to be."

Abraxas seemed to calm down at that simple statement. Clearly he'd also inherited the frustrating Malfoy tendency to be overly sensitive. Draco thought he usually hid it well, but knew he could always be better.

"There's a lot I don't understand about your mother's lies. I've been trying to find her without any success. Maybe there are answers I'll never get. It doesn't matter."

He gulped the rest of his drink and summoned the bottle with his wand.

"Leonie would've been more sympathetic if you had turned out to be a squib. Not only was she angry with me for never telling her about you, she's now afraid you're here to take what she feels is rightfully Lucius'."

"I don't want your money, Mr. Malfoy. I needed help after the fire, but it's never been my intention…"

"Oh, don't you think I've realized that by now, my boy? If you were here just to get everything you could, you wouldn't have tried to hide who you really are. Even the modest sum you asked to borrow this morning proves you're not greedy. I could easily spare ten times that much without even needing to make a withdrawal from my vault."

Draco followed his grandfather's example and emptied his own glass. Their discussion changed quickly in a manner he wasn't expecting. Had it been a terrible idea to send that owl?

"Leonie thinks you have a nefarious reason for just showing up one day out of the blue."

He had to chuckle at that revelation. Who knew his grandmother was so suspicious?

"I can assure you my sudden intrusion into your life wasn't on purpose."

"I know that. Leonie will learn that in time. She just needs some time to calm down. Perhaps I could've broken the news to her a little more gently."

Some of the tension lifted at his statement. Neither man could keep their laughter at bay. Though it didn't last long before Abraxas was all business once again, Draco thought maybe they'd reached the next level in their relationship. Abraxas leaned back in his chair and fixed his gaze on Draco.

"You can choose to make the money I paid this morning a one-time loan or you could join the family. It's entirely up to you, Draco."

There were so many reasons to reject Abraxas' offer and just as many to accept. Worrying about money taught him several valuable lessons he'd never had to think about, but he couldn't help but come to the conclusion having access to money was nice. If he wasn't focused on pinching knuts, he could do more to help bring the Dark Lord down before he had too much power. He also wanted to keep his father from going down the dark path he was headed for. As his cousin living just down the corridor, he'd have more influence. Past of him was well aware when he scribbled out that letter earlier in the day that he was making his choice.

"Thank you, sir… Uncle Abraxas."

The wide grin on his grandfather's face proved he was both pleased and relieved.

"There are some requirements, some basic rules that all Malfoys must follow. First of all, Malfoys do not work in shops. If you wish to pursue some form of employment merely because you wish to, a more suitable job can easily be found. We have many friends. It wouldn't look right if you continued in your current position."

Of course Draco knew it would be a stipulation, but he couldn't help being a little disappointed. He'd enjoyed his job. It was simple, honest. Whatever Abraxas had in mind for him to do instead wouldn't be simple or honest.

"You will be given Septimus' share of the estate which is quite generous. My brother rarely touched his vault. We can have it transferred into your name, your proper name at once."

"All right. And I would move into the manor?"

"Yes. All unmarried Malfoys live in the manor and most stay even after they're married. If you choose to marry that girl, she would of course be welcome to move into the manor, but if not, you could easily provide her with a flat. I know a very discreet wizard who sets those arrangements up."

Draco almost laughed at the mention of marrying Hermione, but did at the thought of making her a kept woman. Just imagining her reaction was enough to both amuse and terrify him. He couldn't deny though that it would be nice to not have to worry about where she would end up. If another Borgin crossed her path, she might not be as lucky. Partly for her benefit he didn't feel like he had much of a choice. Yes, it had been nice to not be treated differently than everyone else. However, as a Malfoy, he would in a much better position to help Hermione in all ways.

"I will be glad to accept those terms, but I will insist on working in the shop until after Christmas. After my employer has been so kind to me, I will not leave her short-staffed when she is so busy."

Abraxas seemed on the verge of arguing, but sensed Draco was resolute. The two men shook hands. Moments later he made his excuse to return to London. He needed time to think of how he was going to tell Hermione what he'd just done.