Author's Notes:

This is it, the chapter that culminates into that big emotional talk between Draco and Hermione. I waited long enough to write that scene, as everything else that follows is build on that moment. And yes, I'm that cruel at the end of the chapter...

My thanks: To my beta luunascope for finding the time to proofread the chapter despite her own hectic schedule.

Another big thank you to BrilliantLady for providing feedback on the talk scene—you definitely gave me some useful insights! :-)

And last but not least, another big hug to my ladies who keep me motivated and who are patient enough to answer my questions as well as listening to my ramblings and doubts while writing. Love you, Debbie, Katie, Linda, and Evora!

Now, enjoy!

Chapter 21 - Libraries And Bad Jokes

It was lunchtime the day after the press conference, and Draco was waiting impatiently for his mother to arrive at the restaurant she had mentioned during her brief Floo call in the morning; she had sounded surprisingly friendly during the few words they exchanged—surprising mostly because of the last time they had spoken, when she had threatened him with the mental ward.

Narcissa's arrival in the restaurant, as usual making a few men turn their heads, pulled Draco from his thoughts. "My dear son..."

"Mother..." He got up to greet her properly with a brief kiss on her cheek while a waiter was ready to help her get seated before he would retake his own seat. "How is France?"

"Chilly at this time of the year, but still warmer than here..."

He leaned back, momentarily relieved about the friendly tone in his mother's voice who accepted the menu card the waiter handed her. Seconds later, the waiter handed him the second menu before bowing discreetly before leaving their table, as they would need a moment to choose.

Narcissa closed her menu to look at him, one of her proud motherly smiles on her lips. "Congratulations on that Order of Merlin... You're the first in the family to receive it—at least without bribing anyone."

"I didn't do it for the award, you know that," he replied with a brief sigh, even though he couldn't help but feel a tiny bit proud about it; he would just never admit it.

"I know, my dear. The article in the Daily Prophet was actually nice about it all for once, given the usual tone they use when they write about us. Saviour of the day I think they called you at some point or other..." She re-opened her menu to have a look at the dishes. "I have to say the chicken sounds delicious."

He looked down at his menu and nodded. The chicken did sound delicious, but he felt more like some beef and gratin the restaurant was famous for. After a quick look over the edge of his menu to watch her go through the dishes, he skipped to the wines. His mother never chose the wine they were having—before it had been his father who chose the wine, now it was up to him to find a wine for both of them. It was just how his family worked.

They only resumed their conversation after the waiter had taken their orders—chicken and asparagus for Narcissa, and a beef filet for Draco, and a Montepulciano to go with it.

"You told me this morning in your glorious grumpy self that you've talked with Hermione–"

"We have contact, but we didn't talk yet."

She raised her eyebrow sceptically. "Why not? I thought that's what you wanted?"

Draco hid his irritation behind a tired smile. "Mother, I found her in a prison cell, probably just moments before she was supposed to fight again. Even you wouldn't be that cruel..."

"But–"

"Don't," he stopped her with a shake of his head. "It's already hard enough."

"Fine," she retorted, probably snappier than she intended.

Draco was glad for the wine to arrive as it provided a momentary distraction from the mood of his mother. The Montepulciano proved to be an excellent choice, rich in body with the right fruity subtlety that would suit both their dish choices. "To the Order of Merlin."

"To the Malfoy family." Narcissa relished in the scent of her wine before taking a deliberate sip from the glass. "Good choice."

He smiled at her remark before having some of his wine, sipping slowly. "You didn't request lunch for the congratulations, right?"

"No." She placed her glass back on the table, shaking her head, before she Summoned an envelope from her small purse. "This is from your father. He asked me to give it to you when I visited him this morning after our little chat. He isn't happy that you refuse to listen to him about the situation. But you both are a bit stubborn..."

"I might have threatened him with the withdrawal of his library rights for the next three months..."

"Draco!"

Ignoring her exclamation, he reached for the letter she was still holding out for him. "I was exhausted of everyone trying to tell me that I'm only an obsessed fool who doesn't recognise the risks."

"I never–"

"You threatened me with the mental ward, Mother." He put the envelope into the inside pocket of his suit, planning on reading it later when he was alone once more.

She relented with a sigh, albeit dramatically so. "About that... Blaise and I talked about it."

Interested, he tilted his chin towards her. "Yes?"

"Look, we both think you should talk to a professional. The whole situation with Hermione isn't doing you any good. You know that I'm worried—I'm your mother, after all... Although, I might have overreacted in my worry, but Blaise and I both agree that you should at least go see your therapist again."

"Dr Pendry, you mean?"

She nodded. "She really helped you, you know? Fix a session with her, and I won't mention the mental ward again."

Their respective plates arrived, sparing Draco from having to respond to her request immediately. His beef looked divine, just like his mother's choice of chicken.

"So, are you going to fix a session with Dr Pendry?" she asked, placing the napkin on her lap before letting her fingers hover over the cutlery, anticipating his answer.

He placed his napkin deliberately slowly, mostly because he didn't want to answer her request at all. However, his choices were limited—either he would go see Dr Pendry, or she might reconsider delivering him to the mental ward. She had that power over him. "Fine. I'll see if she has time to see me."

"Good." With a smile, she forked the first bite of her chicken and lifted it to her mouth. "Enjoy."

..

My dear son,

I was allowed to give your mother this letter, and I do hope it finds you. I understand that you don't want to talk about anything related to your former girlfriend, but today's news prompted me to contact you nonetheless.

First of all, congratulations on receiving the Order of Merlin, First Class! It is a remarkable moment—the name of the Malfoy family is no longer associated purely with the Dark Arts!

Second, I've heard rumours in here about the operation, and I have to admit that I was astonished to hear that it was you who found her, even though the place was swamped with Aurors. Yes, astonished is the right word, putting yourself in such a danger! Times have changed indeed...

I do, however, need to ask for a favour. You know that your mother still refuses to enter the Manor with all the horrible memories that are attached to it—I do understand her, yet I need some books and a few items from the library. The books in the prison library, as well as my very limited stack in my cell, are not enough for my studies. I have a list of books attached that I need and that are allowed by the guards.

Lastly, from father to son, please be careful now! I'm worried that you might have tickled the wrong dragon with her rescue, so do take every precaution, and it might be better to stay out of sight for a while.

Lucius

..

Draco hated visits to the Manor just as much as his mother. Every time he came here for the bi-annual check, his magic would respond to the place, making him feel uneasy. The images of what had happened between those walls haunted his mind every time he was here—especially those memories of watching Hermione being tortured right there in the main hall. So yes, he hated visits to the Manor.

"Master Draco..." Penny greeted him at the door, visibly surprised to see him as he arrived the following day; she was the head of the house-elves caring for the huge empty building and its gardens.

Draco nodded, passing her on his way to the library, fumbling for his father's list of required books in the pockets of his robes. He just wanted to pass through the main hall as fast as he could, the uneasiness was enough already.

"Master doesn't want to check everything?" Penny asked as she followed him through the corridors to the library, sounding confused and struggling to keep up with his pace.

"No, not this time, Penny. My father only needs a few books."

"Old Master still does his studies?"

Draco let out a sigh of relief when he finally reached the vast library, which had been the only place in the whole Manor that was seemingly left untouched by the Dark Arts lingering here. Even his uneasiness receded. He had spent countless hours in here in his youth, hiding away from the madness and terror reigning, to find a moment of peace amongst the books.

He draped his winter robes on the nearest chair before he went to the back to find the rows with the books his father had requested.

"Would Master like something to eat? A sandwich maybe?"

Having reached the middle of the first shelf row, Draco turned around with a tired smile. "I'm fine, Penny. I had something to eat earlier. But you could bring me a tea."

To his relief, the house-elf nodded eagerly and finally left the library, letting him search the books in peace.

After another moment, he continued his way down to the back of the library. The scent was soothing, bringing up happier memories of visits here. Despite having been tortured in the main hall, Hermione had come along to the bi-annual check several times, and each time they had ended up in the library.

..

"Found anything interesting?" Draco asked with a teasing tone as he approached her; she was going through a shelf with huge ancient-looking tomes, her face full of awe.

"I think it says Malfoy Chronicles on the back," she replied with a content sigh. She reached for his hands as he embraced her from behind. "I would love to have a look through them, you know? I mean, how many families can look up what their ancestors did in the 17th century, or even earlier?"

Adoring her fascination for all things historical, he kissed her cheek, even nibbling her jaw gently. "It's probably a boring read, though."

"You don't know that!" She chuckled and lifted one of her hands to run it over his head. "But really, you should find a solution for all those books, you know? It's a pity to see them hidden away like this."

"You know that I don't even know what to do with the Manor."

"Exorcise it?"

"What? Are you serious?" he exclaimed with a loud laugh. "We watched that film last week, and you still keep sneaking it into conversations! Exorcisms don't work with Dark Magic..."

"I know, my dear." With a soft smile, she turned around in his arms before she placed a kiss on his lips, coaxing him gently to part his lips. "We'll find a solution for the Manor. If not, we can still burn it down."

"Hermione!" he let out in mocked exasperation and then claimed her lips in a deep, almost fervent kiss. Oh, he would burn down any manor if it meant she kept kissing him like that.

..

Draco needed longer than expected to find all the books on the list, as many corners and titles held fond memories of afternoons spent here. He was putting the last title on the reading table as the house-elf came back inside to check on him, her smile widening as she saw the empty mug.

"Master wants another cup?"

He shook his head and started minimizing the books so that he could carry them in the simple bag, a trick Hermione had used a lot in order avoid back problems. Maybe he should bring her the first tome of the Malfoy family chronicles? "I'll be back for the bi-annual check in a couple of months, but I can see that you do a great job, Penny."

"Penny only does what Master demands."

..

"Master Draco! Master Draco!"

It was late that night when Draco was pulled from his sleep by a frantic house-elf calling his name at the top of her lungs. He growled loudly in disapproval when she pulled his blanket off, still calling his name. Barely two hours of sleep after a day filled with memories, according to his alarm. "Tibby, I'm awake!"

"Master Draco needs to come over immediately! Mistress is not feeling well, and Tibby doesn't know how to help! Master Draco needs to come immediately!"

Draco was on his feet the moment the house-elf had mentioned that Hermione wasn't feeling well, reaching for his morning robe that hung over the footrest of his bed and his wand on the nightstand. "What exactly is wrong with her, Tibby?"

"Nightmares, Master Draco... The Mistress is having nightmares. Mistress is screaming and has fits. Tibby doesn't know how to calm Mistress!"

He knew from his own extensive experience that nightmares were always a bad sign—she had looked reasonably well over the last few days, except maybe for that brief panic attack during the press conference. Not wasting any more time, he used the Floo Network to reach Hermione's safe house.

As soon as Draco left the fireplace at her house, he could hear the screams and whimpers in her bedroom on the first floor. It was a terrible sound, one he thought he never had to hear again. She was suffering, caught in her worst memories.

It took him mere seconds to reach her bedroom.

She was tossing and whimpering; the whole bed a complete mess and the blanket about to fall on the floor.

He went over to the side of the bed where she was currently lying and grabbed her hand, surprised by her pulling him closer. "Shh... I'm here, my lioness. You're safe."

Her whimpering ceased in response to his words that he kept repeating, and her breathing deepened. "My silver dragon..." Whispering those words, she pulled his hand close to her chest, cradling it like a stuffed animal.

His heart ached to see her like this, suffering in the dark. Right now, nothing was more important than to calm her down—her suffering had momentarily blown his anger away. Continuing to repeat his calming words, he managed to get his hand free from her hold so that he could climb in behind her.

As soon as she lost his touch, her whimpering returned, and she searched for his hand while murmuring his name again and again.

"I'm here... I'm not leaving." With those words, Draco shifted to the middle of the bed; with a sigh, he remembered to place his wand on the nightstand on his side before he finally pulled Hermione closer who had started to toss around once more. "Shh... You're safe."

With his arms around her frame, Hermione finally calmed down and even moved closer into his embrace. She twined her fingers with his, and after a deep sigh, she changed into a more peaceful sleep.

Tibby finally came into the bedroom, still scared from the events. "Mistress has calmed down."

Draco nodded without turning around, lest he'd have to let go of Hermione. "Blanket..."

"Yes, Master Draco." The house-elf quietly pulled the blanket over them, making sure they are both covered up to the shoulders. "Tibby will go back to her room now."

Again, Draco nodded, adding a small smile this time. He finally relaxed as the house-elf left the room, his senses overwhelmed by Hermione's proximity. Peace was what he felt—calming his soul, soothing his heart.

For the first time in years, he didn't fear to fall asleep.

..

The next morning, Draco woke with sunlight poking through the curtains. In the first moment, he was disoriented as to where he was and why he had slept in his morning robe. As he took a deep breath and stretched his legs, he noticed the faint scent of her on the pillow.

He was at Hermione's safe place.

Only, the spot next to him was empty; the whole bed was empty. Although, given the situation between them, this was maybe the easier option.

After another stretch, he made it out of the bed, wondering where she was. Maybe there was a chance of him slipping back to his place without being noticed. It was such a damn weird situation—on one hand, he wanted to hurl all his pain and hurt of the last eight years at her; on the other hand, ever since they had rescued her, he felt drawn to her, drawn to that sense of peace her presence provided.

On his way down, he heard noises coming from the kitchen as well as a faint scent of coffee. It was now or never if he wanted to leave without her noticing. But then, he never had been someone to walk out on people without saying goodbye.

She was.

"Morning," Hermione greeted him with a timid smile, her focus still on the couple of sausages in the frying pan, while Tibby was preparing everything else. "You looked so relaxed; I just wanted to let you sleep until everything is ready."

As soon as Tibby saw him, the house-elf jumped off the counter. "Master is awake."

"Yes," he murmured. Rubbing the back of his head, he strolled over to the table.

"Tibby, slow down, okay? Just bring him his coffee," Hermione said warningly when the house-elf nervously ran around. Keeping an eye on the sausages, she filled a mug the way she remembered he liked it and gave it to the elf.

Draco gladly accepted the mug, relishing in the scent. It had the perfect amount of milk in it, and the first sip was refreshing, lifting the usual morning fog on his mind. Continuing to drink his coffee, he watched her putting everything together on a tray to bring it over to the table. If it hadn't been for the eight years they had spent apart, he could have sworn it was just another Sunday morning they used to start with a late breakfast.

If only.

"Tibby told me about last night," Hermione said with an apologising tone as she placed the tray on the table, ready to distribute the different items and dishes. "Thanks for coming over. I–"

"Did you have those nightmares before?" Watching her over the rim of his mug, he finished his coffee.

"Not as violent as last night. I must have forgotten to take the Sleeping Potion before I went to bed." Biting her lip, she helped herself to a couple of spoons of scrambled eggs before she offered the bowl with the eggs to him. "I've been reading too long."

"You always did." Now feeling more awake, he helped himself to eggs, a couple of sausages, and hash browns—Tibby must have made them because they looked perfect. "It sounded like you were dreaming about a fight..."

"My fights, actually," she replied with a deep sigh. "I can distract myself enough throughout the day, but those images come back at night. The potion lets me sleep decently at least, but they still haunt me."

He studied her intently for a moment while chewing on a first bite of hash browns. The fights he had seen had been gruesome, yet he could barely imagine how she coped with the fact of having killed her opponents to survive.

"Yeah, well..." She shrugged and then dug into her own breakfast.

The rest of the breakfast was spent in silence; only Tibby broke it from time to time to offer refills or to ask whether they'd need something else. The silence was otherwise the most comfortable option, because dwelling too much on the past was dangerous to old wounds, and recent events were too horrible to talk about. So silence it was.

..

Finished with her second helpings of breakfast, Hermione leaned back with her mug of coffee in her hands. She smiled timidly, but her insecurity was all over her face—and underneath it all, the horror of the nightmares could still be glimpsed. They were both unsure in that moment, as to how to continue the conversation and just watched Tibby collect the dishes.

"I missed those mornings," Hermione finally whispered, her eyes widening as soon as she realised what she had just let out.

"Then why did you leave?" Draco asked, cringing as he noticed the harsh tone of his voice. As much as he had dreamed about hurling his pain at her, this wasn't how he wanted to start. "Why?"

"Tibby, please leave the kitchen," Hermione said, sounding apprehensive. She placed her mug on the table and crossed her arms; however, she avoided his gaze. "You can finish the cleaning later."

Growing impatient because this was the moment he had waited for all those damn years, Draco watched the house-elf reluctantly leave the kitchen before he returned his attention to the witch in front of him. "I repeat, why?"

"Is that all you want to know?"

"Yes... I want to know why you found it easier to put us both through years of misery instead of simply talking to me about whatever happ–"

"I was scared, Draco!" Hermione cried out, her voice cracking and her head defiantly turned to the side. "Re-Remember the accident that had me in St. Mungo's for a week?"

He nodded slowly. "I thought I'd lose you."

Her smile in response to his words was sad. "I couldn't tell you back then what happened, I was afraid you'd freak out even more. So I tried to live with that thing inside me, and with that constant fear it might take over."

He recognised the same pain he had nurtured through the years, and for a split second, he longed to reach for her hand to soothe her, just like he had done in Potter's kitchen. Yet, this time, he resisted the urge; instead, he crossed his arms. "Hermione, I want to know. What happened? How? And... and why did you try to hide it? You know damn well that you owe me an explanation."

"Yes, I know!" Her eyes were teary but fuelled with anger as she finally looked at him. "I just didn't know how to tell you... Because as much as you said you loved me, you were still a goddamn arse–"

"How much I said I loved you?" He couldn't hold back a growl at the implication of those words. "I can't believe you ever doubted my love for you. I was always there whenever you needed me. And you know I would have raised hell for you... No, wait. I did, or you wouldn't be sitting here."

"Draco, you can be a damn arse to people you think are beneath you! Merlin knows I tried to change it..." Now Hermione leaned forward as well, her tone changing from hurt to irritated; she narrowed her eyes at him, their usual shade of brown turning into black.

"Don't make this about me, Hermione! I'm not the one who has to explain things..."

For a few seconds, she simply stared at him, her jaws clenching. "It's scary to be turned into some sort of Creature and you don't know how to control it. It's exhausting to live with the fear that every second, it could take over and reveal itself, destroying everything we had in a single moment–"

"It never showed."

She shook her head, her eyes fixed on him. "Sheer luck, I guess. And you were pretty occupied with your own problems, so you weren't so attentive either. At least not as much as you usually were."

He nodded; he did remember those days, vividly so. "Purcell and his personal vendetta–"

"You know that Purcell was a werewolf–"

"And? He tried to stick a case of possession of a Dark Object on me, and I'm not taking those kinds of accusations lightly."

Hermione took a deep breath; her knuckles were white from the pressure in her grip on her arms. "I was about to tell you because I thought you would indeed understand. And then you made that derogatory joke about Purcell..."

"A JOKE?"

"Yes."

"THAT IS THE REASON FOR LEAVING ME? A DAMN JOKE?!"