The sound of a snap in a fire place was the first thing I heard. I tugged at blankets around my head and gasped from the pain along my wrist, recalling now that I'd accidentally sliced up my forearm while trying to hide glass from a beaker.
I instinctively curled into a ball under the heavy covers and opened one bleary eye. I must have died; there was absolutely no way that I was in the Malfoy Manor anymore. The room was a bright pastel blue, almost white. The sheets were ivory, the curtains, everything was white or bright and pastel with gold ornamentation. My heart was lifting at the concept that I'd actually escaped via death when I noticed the same Armoire from the room before, perched elegantly in the corner. I turned my head to take in the rest of the freakishly clean and bright room, which looked as though it had specifically been designed with Paris in mind.
To my other side was another wall of windows similar to Draco's room, and all of my surviving plants were clustered and hung around it. At the foot of the gigantic bed was a tall, white fireplace where a fire was burning giving warmth to the room that was uncharacteristic to the Manor. Draco was asleep in front of it looking like he'd been hit by a train, back in the white hoodie and joggers.
Shit, I thought. This couldn't be heaven or real life. It was most definitely some fucked up room hell had made up for me, that appeared partially perfect and then they'd gone and placed a dragon in it. The night sky outside looked ready for sunrise, inklings of bright blue hues were appearing on the horizon. No, I was at the Manor. It was obvious.
I lifted my arm to inspect the damage. The bandage was long and thick around my forearm and I sighed, rubbing at my face. I felt nauseous from the horrible experiences I'd been through. I tenderly sat up and blinked around the room, noticing that I as well was in a white night slip.
My feet hit the fluffy bright carpet and I took cautious steps away from the bed, craning my neck around like a cat. Draco sat up straight and rubbed at his face, somehow already realizing I was awake, looking so tired his eyes were slightly puffy. His long fluffy hair was messy and spiky.
We both paused and he held his hand up defensively, backing into a stance, "I'm not going to hurt you." He said the words with deep sincerity and I could see the fear in his eyes that I would think otherwise.
He wasn't wrong, I'd been anxious since the moment I'd noticed him there. We looked at each other warily for minutes, him holding his hand out to gesture he meant no harm. "Where am I?" I finally asked through a sideways glance.
"Do you remember burning my room to the ground?" He asked nervously, "I renovated one of the fifth floors ones, to make it feel more at home for you."
I took it all in again in confusion, "It doesn't look like you live 'ere too," I stated. My eyes came back to rest on him with a detached look.
He sighed and scratched his hair, "That's because...I don't. You need your space right now."
I gestured to his presence, "Sure seems like dat is working out for me well." I went to the armoire and yanked out a long silvery cloak and threw it over my tiny night slip, figuring the more clothing I had on the better.
He swallowed, trailing his eyes around the many beautiful items of furniture, "I had to make sure you were okay. You were out for multiple days." He put his hands in his pockets and looked at his socks guiltily.
I wandered around the room touching sparkly things while he watched me by chancing tiny glances, and I slowly realized that I did probably believe his innocence. I simply needed time to grow that trust into something tangible and applicable again. "I'm sorry...about burning your room. Only, ef you are innocent," I said quietly.
I watched him roll his eyes as he sat on the edge of the bed and clasped his hands over his knees, "I assure you I am. And besides, I've already lost an F1 to this relationship, I'm sure I'll survive without curtains and a desk."
I shot him a puzzled look while having been pawing through the bookcase. He'd brought all of the books I'd been collecting prior. "What's an F1?" I asked.
He smirked, "A priceless car. 1998 MacLaren F1. They made just over a hundred in the series. It doesn't matter." He shrugged, as though he hadn't just spoken nonsense to me. I blanked; the car from the accident?
It was awkward as I glared at him. He knit his eyebrows together, not understanding the stand off. Finally I spoke, "I thought you despised muggles. What would you want cars for?"
He looked around the room and laughed lightly, "I don't know, just a hobby I guess."
I went into the bathroom and shut the door unapologetically. I felt no need to explain myself to him. The bathroom was a world of gold and splendor. I stood with my hands over my mouth in awe of the pure gold tiles on the wall behind the big white tub. The rain shower. All of the expensive products. I ran my hands over the plush white towels. He'd really spent an days making this room unbelievably beautiful. I couldn't decide if it was him buying me off for having done something terrible, or if he'd done it out of trying to make something right that someone else did to me.
It was then that I realized the cloak of invisibility and my wide-eyed potions were still under his sink. He'd have assumed the cloak was destroyed by the fire in the desk, effectively letting me off the hook for not returning it. I'd have to go and get the precious item the next time he left the house. It would be a handy tool for my next escape attempt.
I drew a bath and sat there for as long as I wanted. I tugged off the massive bandages on my arm and gasped at the huge central gash along the skin. The glass had managed to slice straight down the middle of my forearm by at least eight inches, and it looked like it had been deep. Thankfully the magical care had been well conducted and the scar was already almost sealed. Dozens of other slices around it in smaller lengths filled in my arm hideously.
I sighed and slowly let my arm sink into the warm water, wincing only slightly as it stung. When I finished I changed in the bathroom into a long, silky blue slip and put the silvery cloak back on top, ensuring that the door was locked. Not as though it would really stop him from coming in, but it was a statement more than anything if he did try the handle. I brushed out my hair and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked the same on the outside, but my eyes told a different story. I'd already lived a lifetime of tragedies and differing personalities in the Malfoy Manor and I felt lost.
I returned to the plush bedroom to find him sitting in the framework of the window with his knees pulled up, chewing on his nails as he watched the sunrise. He stood instantly when I came in and I stifled rolling my eyes at the mollycoddling. "You don't need to be so...sycophantic," I mumbled, feeling uncomfortable.
He looked at the floor again and I floated around in front of the fire with my hands in the deep pockets of the silver cloak dragging around behind me on the carpet. The pointy hood was over my head to shield my face from the sides and my long hair spilled out protectively. I was readying myself to ask him to leave so I could go back to sleep until the sun was up. He was acting pathetic and I wasn't in the mood to feel bad for him.
He cleared his throat, eyes still downcast, "It wasn't me, Madeleine. What do you want me from me? I have no way to prove it to you." The comment was almost snarky and I pressed my lips together to prevent myself from screaming in aggravation. What I wanted was space and time to process everything, but he obviously was used to immediate gratification and forcing people to give him what he wanted, or perhaps just buying his way.
I raised my chin to him, showing half of my face from where I was standing, "I want answers. I want de truth. Tell me about us before I was obliviated." I held my gaze with the one eye that showed beyond my hood.
He inhaled sharply and leered at me, not content with the request, "That's your price?" I could see his jaw grinding now, like he was holding back anger.
I smiled weakly, "For now, yes. Et would mean quite a lot." If he was willing to be vulnerable and tell me about our lives together before my obliviation it would be the greatest display of honesty he could give me. It would mean returning my memories to me, even if just from his perspective.
He stepped forward a few feet with his hands in his pockets, looking deeply at me with glittering blue eyes, "Please just tell me if you think I did it, first." He stopped a few feet from me and I could smell the piney scent of his skin that I'd come to know so well. His face was open and almost pleading, but he held his confidence with a slightly raised brow.
I turned my face to him fully, frowning. I narrowed my eyes at him, "No, I don' think you did et. But I don' trust you anymore. I cannot be sure." He looked relieved with a tiny smirk and I felt instantly annoyed. I shoved him with both hands and he staggered back in shock. "Don' let it go to your head," I warned.
He held put his hands up, palms flat as though I was holding a loaded gun at him and laughed lightly, "Sure. I won't." I could tell from his face already that he would despite the request.
I glared at him for what was probably the tenth time in an hour and crossed my arms, "I want to know right now. Everything."
He sighed and cautiously made his way around me to sit at the fire. He motioned for me to sit next to him, and with a suddenly aching heart I sat a few feet from him with my legs bent to the side. I pulled my hood down from my hair and smoothed it out, watching the fire lick at the newly painted white bricks around it.
He reached his hand across to me and held it upwards against my knee, "Can...I hold your hand, princess?" He was being flirty, and I reluctantly rested mine in his giving him an odd look. He laced our fingers together. "It's an old nickname," he explained.
He chewed on his lip for a minute before snapping his fingers. Nibbles appeared, and when she saw us holding hands she instantly started tearing up. She ran to my lap and threw her arms around my neck, "Mrs. Madeleine is happy and safe! Nibbles is being so happy to see Mrs. Madeleine again. The master and Mrs. Madeleine being together is bringing Nibbles joy." I brought my hand up and rubbed her back and she jumped excitedly in her hug, her little toes dug painfully into my thigh and I squinted through it receptively.
Draco was watching with raised brows clearly surprised by how much the elf had bonded with me, and probably from the fact that she wasn't biting at all. "I'm happy to see you too, Nibs," I whispered as I pet her fleshy head with my free hand.
"She calls you Mrs. Madeleine? Nibs?" He snorted at the nicknames.
I turned my face to him with a guarded expression holding Nibbles almost like a baby, "She's my elf now, Draco. I will give her nicknames ef I want." Nibbles was indeed looking very much like a baby. Her skin had healed quite nicely and she had a vibrant pink tone, appearing healthy. I frequently shared meals with her and she was well fed. Her fingers had no bandages, and she was clean from getting baths, save for her potato sack which I sadly couldn't change out.
He laughed and shook his head with amusement at the entire scene, "Whatever...Nibs, we need gin. You have my permission to go and get some, this one time." He gave both of us a strict remark before reaching into his pocket and bringing out a set of silver keys, placing them into her now outstretched hand.
She disappeared with a pop and my arm dropped in my lap from where I'd been holding her. "Gin?" I asked incredulous.
He gave me a slight, sideways smile, tilting his head up at me, "Exclusively today, because you're completely fucking traumatized, and you've earned it. Just don't fall apart on me."
I shuffled closer to him and bit my lip, "Will you drink wit' me?" I squeezed his hand. The sun was now rising, and thick panes of golden squares were creeping towards us on the flooring from the wall of windows. It was such a bizarre hour to be awake through, and to be drinking at even more so.
Our faces were maybe a foot apart and he started to breath heavily. He hung his eyes downwards, clearly to distract himself, "Yeah, obviously."
My heart fluttered from the closeness, and at the idea that he was finally going to open up to me about our history. I knew instinctively that I didn't believe he'd been the one to attack me. His eyes came back up to meet mine but before anything could happen Nibbles was back again. She staggered with the weight of a huge bottle of clear liquid, basically slamming it between us.
"Nibbles is being here if you is needing anything else Master Draco," she said diffidently, now noticing how close we were sitting. She was gone again with a pop.
I pulled away from him and sat back, bringing my knees up. He uncorked the bottle and sniffed it, gagging and covering his nose with the back of his hand, "I've never understood why you and Fawley have such a penchant for this shit." His eyes were nearly watering as he held it out to me without taking any.
I chugged back a big gulp and fought not to puke on myself. It was never easy the first few rounds of the salty, fiery liquid. I exhaled sharply and put it down, "You get used to et."
He picked it up again, eyeing the contents with dread and I laughed at how disinterested he looked. "Shut up," he said and swung it upwards. He choked on it and waved his hand around as he put it down, his face contorted in distaste.
