The witch and wizard stared at one another from opposite sides of the kitchen. It was dark and Malfoy was concealed by the shadows but Hermione could tell by the shock in his eyes that he had not expected her to be there. His jaw, so clenched she could have sworn that his teeth were going to crack.
Neither moved nor even blinked.
Hermione became aware that her wand was over by the sink, so far out of reach that if she dared to leap he could easily hex her. Options of another escape ran through her mind and none were attainable.
Her lips parted to start a sentence but Malfoy held a finger to his mouth and gestured for her to be quiet. If she listened carefully, his subtle shh was the only sound within the house. Not even Dean's snoring.
Stepping out of the shadows, she could see his face entirely. His hair was less blond than it had been at the manor, and his eyes were just as silver, like nothing was in their way. Only, now there was a thick scar that ran from the right side of his forehead down to his left shoulder.
Simply by looking at him, she could almost hear how loud he would have screamed when receiving it. Nobody is brave enough to survive that kind of injury without losing a part of their soul.
He was tainted by the war. Literally torn.
Malfoy scanned her body up and down, probably looking for a wand. She did the same and the only thing she realised was that she had never seen Draco Malfoy in just an undershirt before. The black low cut material showed off muscles she didn't know existed on an eighteen year old.
He was also wearing muggle jeans. He'd never been seen in anything other than dress pants before, and she was suddenly very self aware of the flannelette pyjamas she was in.
This was not the same boy who refused to help her cries on the floor of his family drawing room. No, this was a more broken version of that. Someone who didn't have an identity anymore.
It took two strides for him to reach her. Two steps that were slow enough for her to run away but dominant enough for her to be too scared to want to.
At a closer proximity she could see how fresh his scar was. It was no older than a few months and had yet to be touched by magic. He must not know any healing spells.
"Who did-"
"I thought I told you to shut up," his voice was harsh. Sharp.
He grabbed her arm before she had another chance to speak, and threw her into the food cupboard. She could have fought back, he was not too rough, but for some reason she obeyed his demand.
The pantry was dark when he closed the door behind him. So dark she could only just make the outline of his head by the fourth shelf.
She hadn't noticed in the open spaced kitchen, but in the cupboard her breaths were very shaky. Not scared type of shaky. Angry shaky.
"Why are you awake?" He asked, keeping a foot's distance between them.
"You don't have the right to ask me anything, Death Eater."
"I have the right to do whatever I want, Mudblood."
"If you are worried that I am spying on you, then you can relax. I do not care for you or your late night excursions."
He scoffed like her words were pathetic and untrue, "So you have seen me before."
She cursed internally. She didn't want him to know that. "Yes."
"For how long?"
"Long enough."
He hummed as he reached over to place a hand right by her left ear, leaning against the shelving. From here she could smell the body wash from the guest bathroom. How he managed to have a shower without anyone noticing was astounding, and she needed to know immediately.
"Why are you here? Why aren't you with your parents? With him?"
"You know why."
"No I do not."
The air was heavy between them, like they knew that they could easily kill each other but are choosing not to. They both wanted something, and Hermione was worried as to what Malfoy could ever want from her.
If anyone opened the door right now it would look like they were up to something sinful. And yet in the room, there were other evil intentions playing on both of their minds.
"Who else knows that I am here, Granger?" He asked aggressively.
"I take it the Aunt that brought you here. No one else."
"Bullshit," he spat.
"We were told it was you in the attic when we all arrived but no one believes it. They think it's a ghoul."
"But you believed it?"
"Why would Andromeda lie?"
Hermione started to feel claustrophobic with the little space there was between them. Her back was hurting from being pressed against the soup cans.
If she was fast enough she could duck under Malfoy's arm and run throughout the house screaming for help. The opportunity was there, it seemed like he was giving her the chance to do so. She guessed that at this point he hated himself so much that he wanted her to give him up.
She refused to fall into his play.
"Does it frighten your poor bleeding heart that you have been living with a Death Eater, Granger? That at any moment I could come down and kill you all in your sleep."
The way he spoke was similar to the way a snake would hiss. He had learnt how to interrogate. It worked. She felt the need to tell him everything he ever wanted to hear. Only he was not as terrifying as his other aunt was.
He wouldn't pierce her skin with a poisoned dagger.
"If you wanted to kill anyone you would have already done so. Don't try to pretend like you aren't relying on us to save the day."
"I don't rely on anything or anyone anymore."
"Really? So you came here to fight with us then? If so, I'd be happy to teach you some proper defence spells."
He laughed. Hollow and raw. "Your skills are useless against ours. You're all a punch of pussy's hiding behind Potter's courage act."
"Ours?"
It was a habit and they both knew it. Hermione lifted her chin, pretending to be more confident than she actually was in this discussion.
"If you will not tell me why you are here, then at least make it seem like you're not with them anymore," she said.
With the hand that wasn't by her ear, Malfoy picked up a chopping knife. The blade traced the lining of her jaw and her entire body froze. Maybe he was like Bellatrix after all.
Hermione realised that she had left it in here after chopping up the fruit. She could still smell the acidity residue from the strawberries. It was just a convenient weapon, and yet it meant so much more than that.
Malfoy's hand trembled ever so slightly and nipped her skin. He probably hadn't meant to but she winced anyway.
"I am here because I know when someone is fucked, Granger. The Dark Lord is a dead man. I am simply surviving and as much as it pains me to say it, Potter will win."
Hermione wanted to call him out on his lie. She knew he would not have left his family behind because he was just trying to survive. There was more to the story that his pride held him back from confessing. Especially to her.
He pressed the knife a little deeper into her chin and then pulled away the second his hand trembled for a second time.
"Are you going to run off and tell everyone that I am here?" He asked. "Tell them they need to lock their doors at night from now on?"
She puffed her chest. "You being here doesn't change anything. No one has gone up to see if you are up in the attic because no one cares. I have not told anyone about your little escapes because I do not care. You are nothing. Nothing."
This time she could actually hear how tight his jaw clenched.
"If it weren't for the fear in your eyes, I might have believed you, Granger." He bent down so that his chin was a hair away from her ear. "You're not as brave as you play out to be. It's disappointing. You're disappointing."
He had struck her where it hurts, as she did him. He wanted to be something, and she wanted to please. These days they were nothing and disappointing.
As the shiver ran down her spine, Malfoy slithered out of the pantry without another word. Knife still in hand.
Hermione bent over with her hands on her knees unable to take in any air. She felt winded, like someone had hit her on the back of the neck with a beater's bat.
Her forearm was burning. She had to remind herself she wasn't in the manor.
She was here, in a pantry, in a safehouse.
Bellatrix was in hiding.
She was safe.
Just as her organs felt like they might implode, her lungs finally allowed her to breathe.
A trail of blood had run down her throat, she could feel it start to crust as it dried. He had actually pulled a knife on her. Not a wand, a knife, and that felt more personal. A muggle threat that he knew meant something to her. He can't have looked her in the eye that night and forgotten how much she screamed.
Thirteen minutes passed of Hermione trying to gain control back over her body.
She was cautious when she went back upstairs to the bathroom to clean the blood. Her eyes had trailed up to the door on the roof, second guessing whether she should go in there and show him how much he really did not matter to the Order.
But he would have it locked and she'd be left embarrassed revealing to him that she had tried to unlock it just to have the last word.
A damp towel stopped the bleeding instantly. There was no need for her wand this time, but she made a mental note to keep it on her at all times just in case he really did want to hurt her.
That night Hermione struggled to fall asleep. It was the first time in months that her body wanted to stay awake, racing through replays of the meeting in the kitchen.
When she finally did slip out, she dreamt of the day that Gryffindor beat Slytherin at Quidditch in second year. Ron had hugged her the moment Harry caught the snitch and they both laughed at Malfoy's red face.
The next day had a darker tint to it than it usually did. Grey clouds hovered over the summer sun and barely anyone spoke. Hermione thought it just might have been her until Fred and George got into a fight.
Tensions were high, and everyone wanted to get off this godforsaken farm.
"Heard that McGonagall might be coming back tonight," Dean said as he and Hermione sat next to each other on the front porch swing.
"From who?" She asked.
"Andromeda. She didn't say exactly but she's been cleaning the living room all afternoon."
Hermione smiled into her cup of tea, "Maybe we will get some more news if we are getting another visit so close to her last."
"Doubt it. No one is ready to make any decisions until Harry is less messed up."
"We're all a little messed up, Dean."
He scoffed, "Him more so. We at least have the ability to run away from here, he doesn't. Poor bugger."
"You really think he wants to run away?" There was a splash of surprise in her question.
A beat went by before Dean replied. "I guess you would know more so than me. You're his best friend, and if he does wanna run away he's more likely to take you with him."
"We haven't really spoken much since-since Ron. Not like we used anyway."
"Can't really blame him for feeling guilty though. You and Ron were together, right? He probably thinks you hate him more than anyone else here."
Hermione took a sip from her tea and kept her eyes at the entry gates. The cup nearly snapped at how hard she was squeezing the handle. "We weren't together. I snogged him before he died but we weren't together."
Dean turned his head to face her slowly. The swing underneath them stopped as he pressed his feet to the floor. "What do-"
"I don't know what we were, Dean." She was a bit too aggressive and consciously calmed her tone. "But I do know that I don't want to talk about it anymore."
"Okay. I'm sorry for bringing-"
"It's fine. Really."
Instead of thinking about Ron's face when he realised he was about to die, Hermione forced herself to think about something else. Her eyes, still on the entry gates, distracted her with the memory of seeing Malfoy stand there every night.
At any point he could step through those wards a return to his old life. A life of hierarchy and servanthood. A life where he could live in a mansion with a walk-in-closet the size of the attic he was sleeping in.
Something was keeping him here, and it was not Harry.
"Reckon the ghoul will ever come down from the attic?" Dean asked, unaware of how he just dove into her mind.
She tried to keep her voice steady, "What?"
"Malfoy. Reckon he will ever come downstairs? Or will he rot up there?"
"How can you be sure that it's really him up there?"
Hermione had no idea why she was not telling him that Malfoy had already come downstairs. Several times now.
Dean curved his lips to a mischievous grin, "Because I'm the one who brings him food."
Tea spilt on her shirt from the way she jolted at his response. Her neck was not far off having whiplash.
"You what?!"
He shrugged, "I give him food. Not like anyone else is willing to go up there and face his wrath."
"I thought Andromeda was doing it. She brought him here."
"Did she?"
The way he asked that gave off the impression that Dean knew something they didn't. Hermione ran through her memories trying to think of a time that Andromeda told them she had brought Draco here, or whether or not she was helping him at all.
"You brought him here?" She asked, a little shocked at how long he had kept this secret.
"I am merely repaying the prick back for what he did for me."
The Manor. Dean was kept in the cellars. "Malfoy Manor?"
"Yeah. He'd kill me for telling you but there were a few times he was ordered to come and torture me and Luna and he refused."
"He refused an order?"
Dean took a sip of his tea, "Sort of. He pretended to cast unforgivables and we fake screamed so they could hear upstairs. Plus some food when the Death Eaters weren't looking."
Hermione's eyebrows were straining from how hard she was frowning. There was no way that happened. It was Malfoy. The same person who had a knife to her throat last night.
"Why are you telling me this, Dean?" She asked.
"Because eventually when he does come down, I don't want to be the voice of reason for everyone."
"So you're making me the voice of reason?"
"Everyone likes you, Hermione. You're the only person in this house that no one has wanted to throw out the window of the second floor. They are more likely to listen to you, than to me."
She didn't know why, but she did not want to be the good guy in this situation. If given the opportunity, she would most definitely join in on a collective hexing against Malfoy. He deserved it.
"I am not going to save face, Dean. If Malfoy ever decides to come down, I am not defending him. He might have saved you from torture, but he definetly did not save me."
Dean could be selfish when he wanted. Hermione knew he had forgotten about what Bellatrix did, or was choosing to ignore it.
"Fair enough." He sighed, getting up from the swing. "He's not as bad as everyone plays him out to be. We're all scared. Especially Malfoy."
"I'm sure he is."
It was a sarcastic reply, but it was needed. Dean left her with her brooding thoughts.
A part of her wanted to throw the hatch off the attic floor and interrogate Malfoy for all that he was worth. Another part wanted to stay as far away as she possibly could. Yet, deep down she knew that there was no way she'd be able to avoid Malfoy.
Without any effort, he was slowly becoming a disease that was infecting her blood. It was typical of Malfoy, really. Everything he did was effortless. Specifically being an absolute prat.
Dean was right in guessing that McGonagall was coming that night. She arrived just after dinner finished and headed straight to the living room asking to speak to everyone this time. Everyone except the ghoul.
"Good evening everyone, I thank you for allowing me to speak with you this evening." She said, standing in the centre of the recently cleaned persian rug.
"Don't really have much of a choice on that one." Harry mumbled. Quiet enough for only Hermione to hear next to him.
She elbowed him in response.
McGonagall laced her fingers together. "It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you of a death from one of the other safe houses."
Whatever joy was still throughout the farm, immediately fell. Everyone sat in silence, dreading the name that was about to be announced.
Hermione automatically grabbed Harry's hand as a reflex. He squeezed twice as hard as she did.
"Neville Longbottom."
Acid burnt at the back of Hermione's throat. Her ears buzzed and her eyes blurred.
"...had run away yesterday…"
If Harry was still holding her hand, she had no idea.
"...on his own accord attempted to kill You-Know…"
She wondered what his face would have looked like when he died.
"...was captured by Death Eaters before he made it there."
It turned out that Harry was still holding her hand because the moment he let go, she felt her stomach drop. Another death was just added to the burden on his back.
He was surprisingly quiet. Too quiet. Like he was planning and scheming in his mind a way to make sure that this never happens again.
Cho Chang stole the show by crying dramatically into Dean's stiff shoulder. Everyone else did not know the appropriate thing to say, and looked like they were waiting for Hermione to speak on their behalf.
Only, Hermione had no idea what to say.
"I understand that Mr Longbottom was a close friend to several people in this house-"
"Where is his grandmother?" Hermione heard herself blurt out.
"Augusta Longbottom's home is being used as a safe house led by Molly Weasley. I can assure you that she is being greatly cared for, Miss Granger."
She nodded, looking over at Harry who was still scarily silent. He was cleaning his glasses with little focus, his mind was definitely elsewhere.
"W-will there be a funeral?" Fred asked.
"Not at this time, Mr Weasley. But you have my word that once this war has been rightfully won, we will have appropriate ceremonies for every life that has been lost."
The twins understood she was speaking about Ron. They gave synchronised nods to thank her for the kindness.
Theo looked as if he was affected by everyone else's sadness. He did not know Neville well, apart from probably being in the same Charms class in school. But it looked like he was regretting every cruel word he had ever said during those times.
Hermione felt robbed on Neville's behalf. Robbed of the apology that he should have gotten for all the teasing, all the mockery that the Slytherins made him out to be. Malfoy especially.
He had no idea about what was happening, but there was a slim chance he would care when someone did tell.
Harry gave Hermione a look that was an instruction to follow him, before rolling out of the room silently. It left everyone else feeling on edge but she went anyway. He led her out to the tree swing in the back paddock.
"Harry-" She started but did not get to finish.
"Enough is enough, Hermione. This is the final straw. No one else can die, not like that."
"Neville was foolish and you know it. He did not have anyone with him and was barely informed on what he should have been looking for. You cannot blame yourse-"
"I am not blaming myself. I am blaming HIM! You-Know-Who did this. He is to blame."
She took a beat. "Okay? So what are you saying?"
"I am saying that you and I need to go out there again! We need to find the snake and kill it, and finish this once and for all."
"You know we cannot do that yet. We have to be logical-"
"HE is not thinking logically! We have been hiding for too long, and his army is getting stronger every day that we pretend to live a normal life here!"
Hermione held her hand out to tell him to calm down. "I hear you. I do. You and I will leave this place when you are ready. I cannot roll you around in the forest fighting off snatchers. We will find the snake, I promise you that. Just not yet."
Harry huffed an angry breath through his nose. He knew she was right, and that he was being impulsive. It was the mistake that cost him Sirius.
"Why don't we tell McGonagall that new procedures need to be put in place over each safe house? No one leaves unless it is for food, and if they leave they do not leave by themselves and only once a fortnight."
He contemplated her suggestion. "Everyone has to take on training," he added.
"Yes. Training. We tell everyone about the horcruxes and warn them of the risks that will happen if they try to find the snake. We rebuild, just like they are. Only smarter."
"Fine. But if anyone else dies, I am leaving. With or without you."
She could see the seriousness in his eyes. They didn't sparkle with heroism like they used to. Now they just held the death of every innocent person he knew.
"Alright, she breathed. "Deal."
Later that evening, Hermione devised a plan with McGonagall that would be put into place over the other five safe houses. Each home had an appointed leader, Molly Weasley, Kingsley Shaklebolt, Rubeus Hagrid, Horace Slughorn, Aberforth Dumbledore and Andromeda Tonks.
No one was allowed to leave. Two people were appointed to gather food once a fortnight, in the farm house it was Hermione and Theo, who volunteered himself for the role. Each day would consist of two hours practice of defence and attack spells.
Hermione insisted that until they were physically ready, no one should try and source information on Voldemort. It wasn't worth it.
McGonagall was to remain the only person coming to and from safe houses, and was the secret keeper for their location. Hermione asked if they could send letters and she agreed that they could exchange them once a month as long as they did not contain information on where they were living or anything to do with Voldemort.
It wasn't much of a change, but it made most people feel a little better.
As Andromeda walked McGonagall out, Hermione took Teddy to bed. He was an easy baby compared to the horror stories her parents had shared to friends about her. A few rocks back and forth and he was out like a light.
He looked peaceful in his crib, sucking on a pacifier without a single worry fluttering through his mind. You could tell he was like Tonks in that his hair tended to change colour when he was in different moods. It was green when he slept.
Hermione traced a line over the bridge of his nose. It was hard not to want to watch him like this all night.
"Nymphadora used to have purple hair when she slept." Andromeda spoke softly by the door. "Though she was never as easy to put to sleep like he is."
"Apart from his hair, he doesn't really look like her, does he?"
"No, he most certainly has Remus' face. But I have a feeling that will change when he's a bit older."
Hermione moved from the cot and left Teddy to his dreams. Just before she could leave the room, Andromeda gently grabbed her wrist.
"Thank you, Hermione."
She smiled. "It is no problem. He is a very easy baby."
"I mean for everything. I know it is my role to lead this house and you've taken more responsibility than you should, but I want you to know that I appreciate every second you've given me to grieve. It has helped, so thank you."
"Of course. You should not have to care for multiple teengers, a baby and run a house on your own all while trying to process all your loss. Plus, I actually enjoy the distraction."
Andromeda squeezed her wrist one more time. "You are a blessing."
Hermione did not feel like that was true whatsoever. If anything she felt more cursed than blessed.
Something heavy slammed against the roof, or more so the attic floor. Hermione looked up knowing full well who had caused the sound, though she wondered what he was doing.
"Andromeda, may I ask you a question?" She said, still softly spoken.
"Anything, darling."
"Did Draco Malfoy ever come to you this year before the battle?"
Teddy gave a small cry, leaving Andromeda to tap his bottom a few times to settle him back down. She swallowed audibly prior to her reply.
"He did. I am not quite sure how he found me, but yes, Draco sought me out at the beginning of the year."
"May I ask why?"
Andromeda looked like she was going to answer but then faltered and bit back her response.
"Is it because he wanted to stop being a Death Eater?" Hermione tried again.
"I do not think it is my place to share my nephew's war stories, darling. They are too dark to be gossiped about between people who do not know him well enough to see his side of things."
That was a fair response. Though, the maturity of it made Hermione realise just how young she was asking such intruding questions.
Something happened within the Malfoy family between her capture and the battle at Hogwarts. Something so bad that it tore them apart, either by choice or force. Hermione was curious to find out, but not too curious to try hard enough to seek the answers.
"You know it is him up there don't you, Andromeda?"
She sucked her teeth. "I do, I did not lie to you all when I said he was up there. I also believe he will come down when he is ready."
Hermione gave a final tight lipped smile before leaving the room. Her steps wavered down the hall as she stood under the attic latch. A string with a ball on the end dangled from the ceiling.
One pull and she could shake Malfoy to his core. One pull and she could scream at him on Neville's behalf.
He just wasn't worth it.
That night Hermione cried into her pillow for the first time in a while. Memories of Neville Longbottom flickering through her mind like an enchanted photo album, and images of what she imagined his face looked like when he died.
She hoped he felt brave and that he passed thinking he had made a difference. Because he did. He did make a difference.
When midnight struck and she woke from her dreams, Hermione did not care if Malfoy found her in the kitchen eating. She did not have the energy to care for a snake's opinion anymore.
So Hermione ate cucumber sandwiches again. Four this time with a side of ice cream, and caramel topping. It was disgustingly delicious and made her want to vomit into the sink by the end.
Malfoy did not come downstairs when she was there. Nor did he when she went back to her room. Hermione waited all night by her window sill, but he never went out there.
Good, she thought, resting her head on her pillow as the sunrise broke into her room. He can stay up there.
