Harry arrives at the Burrow
Horses8 - Oh, she totally likes it. If Ron spoke like that she would be completely irate, but with Draco...
HeartOfAspen - Thank you. I adore Mrs. Weasley and it never quite sits with me well when she isn't written as a loving mother.
Kyonomiko - Here he comes!
After over a week at the Burrow, Draco found himself acclimating to the noisy, happy home. People stomped around the place at all hours of the day, and someone always seemed to be yelling, either out of anger or out of sheer distance. Whenever someone on the first floor needed something, they simply hollered up the stairs until the message recipient heard them.
All of that could be prevented with a house elf, but the Weasleys could never afford one.
Still, life with the Weasleys wasn't as bad as Draco had imagined. Not that he would ever admit that aloud. Mrs. Weasley reminded him a great deal of Hermione's mum. She was warm and inviting, offering bone-crushing hugs a little too often for Draco's comfort. Was that common for mothers? After his experiences in the last six weeks or so, he thought it must be.
Mrs. Weasley had him bunking in Charlie's room. Weaselbee had refused to share a bedroom with him, leaving other brothers to camp together for the past several days. Frankly, Draco didn't mind the space. After spending all day surrounded by noisy redheads, it was nothing short of heavenly to have a little space to himself at night.
Much to his dismay, Hermione had been spending a considerable amount of time with Weaselbee and Weaselette. Sure, she still made an effort to sit by him at meals and make conversation, but it somehow wasn't the same as when it had been just the two of them every afternoon at her parents' house. Was she doubting their budding friendship? She had been reamed out by Professor McGonagall the day after their arrival for her reckless behavior. Perhaps she had been avoiding him. Hermione was nothing if not a goodie two-shoes, after all, and upsetting McGonagall may have pushed her over some sort of invisible line.
Draco found himself watching her whenever she talked with Ron or Ginny – in the kitchen, in the sitting room, and out in the garden. Although she would smile and laugh with her friends, her smiles never seemed to reach her eyes. He suspected she must have been thinking about her parents in those times. Draco wondered if she had come to grips with what she had done. Had she told anyone else? Or was he the only one privy to the devastating act she had committed? As he watched her, he wished that Hermione would confide in him. If keeping silent was eating her up, she needed someone to talk to, and Draco wanted that someone to be him.
Nine days after his and Hermione's arrival, Draco found himself once again sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by a large group of people, all of whom were nursing an afternoon mug of tea. There weren't only Weasleys present, but a large group of others sat at the table as well. Professor Lupin was there, looking shabbier than usual, though oddly happy. Professor Moody had stumped in as well, still slightly terrifying with his eye swiveling everywhere. The oaf Hagrid was there, taking up an entire corner of the kitchen. Then there were others he didn't recognize – a woman who kept changing her hair color, a regal-looking authoritative man, and a shifty looking man who looked like he didn't want to be there at all. Draco sat in the midst of it all, hoping he appeared inconspicuous. This group had held meetings before, but he had never been allowed to sit in with them. When it had happened previously, he and Ginny (who hadn't been too pleased with the arrangement) had been made to degnome the garden together. She had grumbled to herself the entire time, sometimes chucking the gnomes a little harder than was intended.
This time, no one had kicked him out of this meeting, so his presence must not have been too big a bother. Ginny and Hermione sat on either side of him. While the former looked like she was about to open presents on Christmas, the latter was chewing her lip with worry.
"All right. Settle down you lot. We've got a lot to finalize. Tonight is the extraction date," grunted Moody from the head of the table, his eye lolling about.
Everyone around the table looked solemn, except Fred and George. One of the twins was whispering something to the other, and they both sniggered into their hands.
"I'd like to go over our groups one last time to make sure we're comfortable with the arrangements," suggested Professor Lupin, who sat across from Draco and next to the color-changing woman.
"Right." Moody pulled out a parchment from his coat pocket. "As I've come to understand it, no one else will consent to riding together with this idiot, so I'm saddled with him. Eh, Mundungus?"
The slippery looking man who was crouched in the corner of the room looked up and grunted in acknowledgement.
"We'll be on a broomstick along with Arthur and Fred, Remus and George, and Tonks and Ron. Clear so far?"
There was a smattering of nods. Where were they all going on brooms?
"Kingsley and Hermione as well as Fleur and Bill will ride Thestrals. Hagrid has managed to wrangle a couple from the Forbidden Forest. Isn't that right?"
"Sure did, Alastor. Good creatures, they are. Have 'em tied up in the garden jus' outside."
Thestrals? Hermione was going to ride a Thestral? What in the hell kind of mission were they going on?
"And of course, Hagrid, you and Harry will be on the motorbike."
Draco froze. Potter? Aha. It all made sense. This was the brigade that would be escorting Potter here. He listened in as Moody broke down in detail the itinerary for the following evening. It hardly seemed plausible that seven Harry Potters would take to the sky tonight. Everyone nodded along. Hermione, of course, was taking notes. This mission seemed both incredibly dangerous and stupid to him. The thought of Hermione participating gave him a nagging pull in the pit of his stomach that he didn't like one bit. What could he say to Hermione to convince her not to go? He didn't want to be stuck here at with the Weasleys without her. She was what made this hovel bearable.
At least that's what he told himself. He had to say something.
When Moody stopped talking, the group stood and scattered to make last minute preparations for their journey. Draco made his way over to Hermione, who was now standing at the edge of the sitting room with the woman who he now knew to be called Tonks.
"Hello, cousin," the woman greeted. "Glad we can finally properly meet."
"Cousin?" Draco eyed this woman with suspicion as Hermione chuckled.
"Yep. Our mums are sisters. Only my mum got wiped off the dear old Black family tree."
Draco reached back into his memory. "Funny. My mother never mentioned you or your mother."
"Is that so? Well, that doesn't really surprise me. She went and did most offensive thing a Black daughter could. Married a muggleborn, she did."
Draco glanced sideways at Hermione, who was back to busying herself with notes. It seems that this look did not go unnoticed by Tonks.
"Of course, she always says getting disowned was the best thing that ever happened to her. Wouldn't have been happy living under the oppressive rules of pureblood society. She married for love and hasn't looked back." Tonks then threw him the heaviest wink she could muster, and Draco turned scarlet. "Look at that, I've got to go. Need to talk to Ron before we shove off."
And then she left, leaving Draco confused and blushing and Hermione seemingly oblivious to everything that had just happened.
"Is there something you wanted to discuss, Draco? I'm quite busy and this is the only way for me to work off my nervous energy."
The Slytherin in Draco could think of several ways to deflect this conversation to work off some of that energy, but he managed to compose himself. Much to his dismay, the words he had hoped to say didn't come out of his mouth. Instead, he found himself saying, "No. I was just heading for the kitchen," instead.
She smiled and stepped aside.
Stupid stupid stupid.
Draco spent the next hour in the garden behind the kitchens wallowing in his own pathetic nature. Why was he suddenly incapable of speaking to Hermione? Surely it hadn't been Tonks's comments? Draco continued his contemplative silence throughout supper, which was already a heavy, silent affair, what with the fetching of Potter looming ahead.
Shortly after sunset, those going on the mission gathered in front of the Burrow. Draco watched as the Potter squad filed out, trying to decide whether to say anything to Hermione. Convince her not to go. Tell her to stay. Something.
Just as she was about to cross the threshold, Draco grabbed Hermione by the elbow.
"Wha-? Draco, what's going on? I need to be outside." Hermione seemed frazzled.
"Yeah, I know," Draco started. "It's just, I…er…um-"
It was as though his brain had turned to pudding and his tongue to lead. What had he been trying to say again? With every passing second, Hermione's confused expression was turning sour.
"What?" Hermione snapped, her impatience cracking through her voice.
"Just – oh, sod it. Don't…don't go get yourself blown up tonight, all right, Granger?"
Don't get blown up? Was that the best he could do? Honestly. He could have kicked himself.
Hermione's face immediately softened. She seemed to know what he was trying to say.
Her petite hand moved to his shoulder and gripped it in a surprisingly firm grasp. Chocolate colored eyes met with his icy grey ones, and he saw the determination shining in them.
"I promise not to get blown up, Draco. I'll be back here with Harry and everyone else here quite soon."
Finding he could only nod, Draco then watched as Hermione joined the rest of the group in the yard as they set off on their mission. Draco thought that it might look funny to watch the empty night sky through the window, so he retreated back to the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley and Weaslette were finishing cleaning up after supper.
When they had dried the last dish, Mrs. Weasley levitated a tray of hot chocolate to the table for the three of them. Draco accepted his mug and sipped in silence, staring off into the distance, trying not to picture Hermione getting curses flung her way by Death Eaters.
"Are you all right, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, leaning into the table to get his attention.
"What? Oh, yes. I'm fine."
"Rubbish."
Draco turned to face Ginny Weasley, who had set her own mug down.
"What did you say?"
"I said that's rubbish. Anyone can see you're not fine. You're clearly worried. Isn't that right, mum?"
Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips and glared at her daughter. Ginny didn't even have the shame to look sheepish, but instead raised her eyebrows in defiance.
With a sigh, Mrs. Weasley turned back to him. "I can't say that I disagree with Ginny. You may put up a tough front, but anxiety shows itself in little ways."
Draco was gladly looking anywhere but at the Weasleys' freckled faces. "That's ridiculous. I'm not anxious."
"Then why are you trying to choke your mug with your grip?" Ginny gave a short smirk, drawing one knee up to her chest as she pulled her own cup up to her lips. Draco let go of his mug with a jolt and threw a scowl at the youngest Weasley. Instead of retaliating back, she sighed and laid her chin on her knee. "It's all right to be worried. It's difficult to just sit here knowing that anything could be happening and there's nothing we can do about it."
Draco found his head bobbing up and down slightly as he agreed with her.
Ginny continued to fidget as Mrs. Weasley watched the two teenagers in silence. With a sudden determined movement, Ginny sat up straight and gazed right into Draco's eyes.
"Why did you so suddenly shift sides, Malfoy? What changed? I always was under the impression you were an evil bastard."
"Ginevra!" Molly turned to her daughter, eyes wide and full of fire.
"Someone's got to ask it, Mum. Don't pretend you're not curious."
Draco shifted in his seat, his eyes traveling between the two redheaded women in front of him. Images from this past year floated across his memory – his father leading him to his first Death Eater meeting and leaving that meeting with his heart heavy, his arm in pain, and a death sentence in his future; months of struggle and deep depression, his horrible fate dangling before him; the light leaving Dumbledore's eyes as Snape cursed him – Draco tried to shake them off before his eyes gave away that he felt like he was drowning.
He had been silent for an awkward amount of time, it seemed, because Mrs. Weasley had piped up. "Leave him alone, Gin-"
"A lot changed." Draco heard his own voice before he realized he had spoken. Why was he telling this to the Weasleys of all people? He found he couldn't stop speaking now that he had started. "Mostly…that night. I saw my own soul when I had Dumbledore cornered on the astronomy tower. I saw the core of myself and who I had become and I found that I hated every inch of me. I hated myself. I didn't even recognize myself. Scared the shit out of me."
Draco paused, glancing up at his audience. Ginny sat with her mouth hanging open like a fish and Mrs. Weasley's eyes sparkled with unshed tears. "I'm not sure if I lowered my wand because I just panicked or felt guilty or was having some sort of crisis of conscience. But I just knew as I talked to Dumbledore and then watched as he died that I…couldn't go forward on the path I was on. I am not a killer. I am not my father."
He finished his last sentence with conviction, his face set in stone.
"Oh, my poor boy." Before Draco could do anything about it, Mrs. Weasley had crossed to the other side of the kitchen table to envelope her arms around him. "No one is born to fill their parents' shoes. You are so brave for walking away from your life, and even if some of the Order act wary around you, know that I am proud of you. I know for a fact that Hermione is, too."
Draco pulled back from Mrs. Weasley's arms. "She's…proud of me?"
"Oh yes, dear. Quite. She told me all about this when you both arrived. She tells me that despite what you may have done or said in the past, even to her, that you have proved yourself capable of change and that you should be forgiven."
Draco felt his heart fill to bursting, thrumming in his chest with an intensity he had never experienced before. Hermione wanted to forgive him? He had said and done some truly cruel things to Hermione Granger for years, and she was willing to let it all go?
She truly was one of a kind, that girl.
From across the table, Ginny looked on with a faint smile playing at her lips.
"Well I'll be damned. I actually find myself beginning to like you, Malfoy."
Draco snorted and smiled back.
The two began to discuss old Hogwarts quidditch matches, both shooting occasional glances at the special Weasley family clock, as if waiting for any sort of change. But all the names stayed stuck on 'Mortal Peril.' Mrs. Weasley grew more antsy by the minute, whispering that Fred, Mr. Weasley, Tonks, and Weaselbee should have been back by now.
Finally, after what seemed like ages, a great rushing sound came from the garden as one of the pairs arrived with their portkey. Unsure if he would be welcome, Draco stayed back in the corner of the kitchen as Harry and Hagrid came into view through the window.
Great. The oaf and his least favorite scrawny, specky git.
Harry made his way through Mrs. Weasley's and Ginny's hugs and then into the kitchen. It took a moment for Potter to see him, but when he did, the change on his face was instantaneous. Reaching for his wand, Potter drew it and cornered him, a snarl of fury on his face and his eyes ablaze.
"What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy?"
It took every inch of Draco's self-control not to retort or even answer at all. He was smart and self-preserving enough to know that his arrangement with the Weasleys was precarious at best, even with the approval of the Weasley matriarch.
"I said, what the hell are you doing here?" Potter grabbed him by the collar and shoved him into the wall, a snarl on his lips.
"Harry! Get off of him – the Order's offered Malfoy asylum!" Ginny came careening into the kitchen from outside.
With his fist inches from a punch, Potter froze. Hatred burning in Harry's eyes, Draco watched as his face pulsated between anger and confusion several times.
"What? Asylum? You?" Potter watched him with narrowed eyes, a frown persisting.
"Yeah, it's true," Draco spat. "I'm with your lot now, Potter."
"Since when?"
"Since that night in June."
Draco saw shock flash across his adversary's face and knew he didn't have to elaborate any further. It seemed that Potter was about to retaliate but there was another whooshing sound from the garden. He continued to watch from his little corner as a severely-bleeding Weasley twin was carried inside and Potter was questioned by an angry Lupin. By the sound of it, they had been attacked during their journey. Draco's stomach immediately dropped to his feet.
Attacked? Was everyone else all right? What if Hermione-? He couldn't bear the thought of losing someone who actually claimed to be proud of him – someone with whom he actually felt a connection.
He didn't want to be alone again.
And then, with another whooshing sound, Draco heard the sweetest sound. Her voice. Rushing from his seat, he found Hermione in the garden, her wild hair wind-tousled, her eyes wide and frightened and her breathing coming in short, sharp gasps.
She was here. She was alive!
He could have kissed her.
That thought stopped Draco in his tracks as he approached the muggleborn witch. Now that he saw her from up close, she was dressed identically to Potter from head to toe, glasses and all. Yet, even covered completely in everything Potter, she was lovely. Lovely and safe. Smiling, Draco took a step forward and Hermione turned to face him. She flashed a grin and opened her mouth to speak, but at that exact moment, another whooshing sound filled the air as Tonks and Weaselbee came crashing into the yard.
Within half a second, Hermione tore her eyes away from his own and she dashed over to practically tackle the ginger idiot. Weasley blushed as Hermione cuddled him and Draco felt his jaw tighten, his ears growing hot. The grinding in his teeth intensified as Potter joined their little group.
Draco turned on his heel and stomped back to the Burrow. He could tell when he wasn't wanted. He might as well just go upstairs. As he stepped back in the kitchen, however, Bill announced Moody's death. Draco found himself sinking into a chair in the corner. He had assumed in some stupid way that Mad Eye had been invincible. The man had, after all, survived years as an auror and countless injuries. Hell, he was the one person who Draco had fully expected to return. Lost in his own thoughts, he was only drawn out of them when Potter doubled over, his hand over his scar. Draco watched a concerned Hermione try to talk him down, but as if aiming to win the Gryffindor-Of-The-Year award, Potter announced he was too dangerous to keep around and tried to leave.
What an idiot.
If Potter wanted to leave, Draco took no issue in that. Scarhead was trouble enough, and he was just starting to get comfortable with this new existence. He didn't want Death Eaters to be attracted to his new…what was this place, anyway? Home?
He shuddered at the thought.
As Hermione and Weasel ventured outside to retrieve Potter, Draco slunk up the stairs to his room, his stomach churning. He must have eaten something funny. Even as he lied down on the lumpy mattress, he couldn't quite get comfortable. Images of Hermione dashing off toward Potter and Weasley seemed to be glued to the insides of his eyelids, and he tossed and turned.
Draco must have fallen asleep at some point, because he woke up with a jolt and sat upright. With a crack, his head made contact with something else quite solid, and he bit back a string of curse words. Still clutching his head, Draco opened his eyes to see a pair of small hands clutching the top of a mass of dark curls.
"Hermione," he whispered with a wince, "Are you all right?"
She returned the grimace. "I was until just a moment ago. I'm so sorry for waking you up."
Draco leaned back onto the headboard, adjusting his pillows. Hermione sat on the edge of his bed. He drank in his companion as she continued holding onto the sensitive patch of her scalp. It had clearly been at least an hour or two since the commotion downstairs – Hermione was no longer wearing a Potter clone outfit, but rather, a soft-looking nightgown that stretched to her ankles. He could see the outline of her breasts through the thin fabric, and he forced himself to continue his visual journey upward. Too much time dwelling on such things and he knew he would find himself more confused than he already was.
"Feeling better?" he asked as Hermione finally let go of her head.
"Much, thank you." She offered a smile, and he found himself returning one. "All the hubbub of The Burrow makes me miss my parents' house." Hermione's smile turned wistful, her eyes dulling as Draco watched the meaning of her words drape over them like a stifling blanket.
Draco reached for Hermione's hand and grasped it in his own. "I know what you mean, Granger. As much as I would have been horrified to admit it previously, I really liked staying with you. The Weasley's house is too noisy for my tastes."
"Is it now?" Hermione squeezed his hand and threw out a playful smile.
"I have no idea how you can stand having so many gingers around, honestly."
"It takes some time to build up a tolerance, I must admit," Hermione smirked and Draco felt his breath hitch in his throat. Gods, how had he never found this girl attractive until recently?
"So, er, why were you hovering over me while I slept, Granger?"
Hermione blinked several times before her eyes grew wide for a moment. She readjusted her sitting position. "Right. I just…wanted to tell you something."
Draco raised a single eyebrow. Hermione looked down, avoiding his gaze.
"I…just wanted to tell you that while we were out on the mission tonight, and we were surrounded by Death Eathers, I kept thinking about…" she paused, playing with one of her curls. "I kept thinking about you."
Forget a hitch in his breath. Draco wasn't sure he remembered how to breathe properly. Although she wasn't looking at him, her grip on his left hand grew stronger.
"I kept worrying what would happen to you if something happened to me. I…care for you."
When Draco continued his silence, Hermione grew restless. It had taken quite a lot of Gryffindor courage to say those words to Draco Malfoy of all people, and her heart was only being met with a wall of silence.
She began to draw her hand away from his grip, but he reached out and grasped her hand in his once more.
"I…care for you too, Granger. When you were out on that mission, I thought I was going crazy. You really had me worried when you didn't come back right away." Hermione finally looked up to see Draco flushed in the moonlight, his cheeks colored several shades darker than his normally pale complexion. Their eyes met and Hermione felt her own cheeks heat up.
"You look uncomfortable. Sitting like that can't feel good," Draco posited. It was true. She was a bit hunched over and twisted as she sat on his mattress. Before she could begin to answer, Draco had scooted over and patted the now-empty spot beside him. "Come on, then. You had a hard night."
A small smile escaped her lips. Gathering her nightgown, she slipped under the covers beside Draco, leaning on the pillows. He reached for her hand once more and she laced her fingers through his. Surely, this had to be some alternate dimension. That was the only explanation for the simultaneous pounding of her heart and the blissful calm she felt wash over her as soon as she felt his body beside hers.
Though their hands were intertwined, Draco stared straight ahead.
"I was worried that my father was among those attacking you tonight. It would have destroyed me if…if he did anything to hurt you." Draco's thumb rubbed her own. It seemed so intimate.
"I'm honestly not sure if your father was among the Death Eaters tonight. It was all such a blur that it was a wonder any of us got back at all. There was no way I would have had the opportunity to identify anyone properly."
It was true. The events of Harry's rescue had flown by in a rush of adrenaline. Images flashed through her mind. Red and green lights whizzing past her body. Kingsley's terrifying, powerful face. Moody's body falling. Shaking her head, she forced herself back into the present moment, which was far more pleasurable.
"I suppose that's for the best," Draco mumbled. "I wouldn't want to know if he was there." He looked briefly at Hermione, their eyes meeting. His eyes seemed hollow, much as they had weeks ago during his first few days in her home. Before she could say anything, Draco looked down once more, his eyes fixated on a new target this time. Ripping away the sleeve of his pyjamas, Draco revealed the hideous tattoo burned into his left forearm. He stared at the Dark Mark, his nose wrinkled in disgust.
"Gods, I just want to rip off this arm. I would if I had the guts." He stole a glance in her direction, but she remained still. "At least if I cut it off then I wouldn't have to remember the awful shit I've done. I wouldn't have a cursed, burning mark reminding me every waking moment of my existence that I fucked up. That I ever had the notion to hurt you…and other people like you."
She could hear the emotion in his voice as it trembled, yet no tears fell from his eyes. Instead, he held her hand in a vice grip.
With the gentlest touch she could, Hermione released her hand and reached forward to roll his sleeve back over his Dark Mark. What compelled her toward her next action, she wasn't sure, but it seemed the natural next step to cup his face in her hands and lean in to kiss his cheek.
"Oh, Draco," she whispered, wrapping her arms around the boy. "Thank you for caring. And for worrying."
Draco nuzzled into her shoulder and the two lapsed into silence.
Hermione certainly didn't remember falling asleep, but when she opened her eyes again, a soft blue light was beginning to creep in through the bedroom window. The blond boy beside her remained immobile as she slipped from the bed and tiptoed from the room.
He would wake up alone later that morning, but perhaps that was for the best. After all, she would be leaving soon, and getting more attached to Draco Malfoy was the last thing she needed.
So many of my chapters end up with them in bed with each other. Will anything ever happen between them? Tune in next time to find out! Favorite, Follow, Review, and follow my adventures on tumblr - BiscuitsForPotter :)