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**** DRACO ****

I woke early, scrambling out of bed to drag my running skins over my legs and shrugging into a thermal long sleeve. My runners were at the door and I pulled them on, hopping from one foot to the other in my hurried attempt to get out the door. I had seen her on the beach every day in the past week and hoped that she would be down there this morning so I could let her know that she wasn't alone along the stretch of cliffs. Of course, the lights on in my house would have been a dead give away, but that was beside the point.

I grabbed my beanie from the hook beside the door and headed out, taking my time on the wet steps that led from my own deck to the beach. My house was higher up than the small cottage, which meant almost double the steps. The decent was fine; it was the climb back up after a five mile run that was torture.

I followed the zig-zagging steps until I hit the beach. The stretch of sand between my stairs and the rocky outcrop past the beach below the cottage was just a little over a mile long and I usually looped around twice. And today would be no different.

My father would have thought me insane, and probably would have had me locked away, if he could see me; running, in muggle clothes, and lusting after my muggle neighbour. But he mattered not. I enjoyed the freedom that running had brought me, and it had been over a week since I'd hit the sand. And regardless of my want to be seen by my new neighbour, a beach run was what I needed to clear my head.

I glanced up to the small cottage as I headed down the beach, the curtains were open across the front but there were no obvious signs of there being anyone inside. My disappointment was palpable; I'd had high hopes of seeing her or even of her being on the beach, and maybe this time I would have gotten to see her face.

I continued past the house and tried to put her out of my mind. I ran across the hard sand, focusing on the outcrop at the end of the beach. Reaching the rocks, I turned and headed back the way I came. I glanced at the stairs and my disappointment doubled. There was no neighbour to smile and wave at as I passed by.

I shook my head and ran on. This was insane. I was insane. A week ago, Blaise was reminding me of my long-held fantasy of Granger, and she was still making appearances in my dreams. And now, here I was longing to meet a complete stranger and I had no idea why.

I reached the halfway point of my run – the base of the stairs that lead back up to my house - and turned back around, making my way back along the shoreline. I slowed my pace; there was no need to push myself so hard on a Sunday morning. So I slowed to an easy jog and took in my surroundings, the sea was still choppy and rough, and the sand hard and compacted from the rain. But the air was crisp, the cold air almost burning my lungs as I breathed hard.

I had never been one to appreciate the simplicities of nature, nor had I ever pictured myself living anywhere else but at The Manor, but out here, away from the maddening pace of the city, away from the burden of my father's legacy, away from the prying eyes and whispers, I could breathe. The sea air was so clear it tasted clean. And the sheer drop of the cliffs, the beach and the ever-changing temperament of the water all lent themselves to a beauty that I enjoyed being surrounded by.

And the sky seemed to be endless. The horizon was so far in the distance that on a clear day, it seemed impenetrable. And even when the storms rolled in, nothing was lost. If anything, the dark clouds and the lightening just enhanced the view. It was why I had built my house on the cliff. It was why I had bought the other two houses.

I paused as I reached the rocks again, looking out over the sea, and grimacing at the low cloud rolling back in. I had timed my run perfectly, it seemed. I would have just enough time to make it back to the house before the next wave of this seemingly endless storm hit.

I turned back and almost stopped dead. She was almost at the bottom of the steps, and a nervous knot formed in my stomach, and I found that I was actually hesitant to run towards her. I was sure that she would have seen me running across the sand, but she had either not seen me return, or had decided to say hello.

I desperately hoped for the latter, so I walked slowly towards her, not wanting to startle her when she finally looked up.

I kept my eyes on her as I drew nearer. She still hadn't looked up. She was barefoot and was tracing her toe in the loose sand at the bottom of the steps. Her face was covered by her hair and I watched as she wiped one hand across her cheek, and I suddenly hated that I was there. She didn't need me to see her, not if she was crying, not if she was upset. She needed space, needed to be alone. What she didn't need was a crazy stranger ogling her in the vulnerable state she was in.

She finally looked up and this time I did stop dead. My heart began racing.

Merlin's balls! It wasn't possible. She couldn't be standing just meters away from me.

And she was staring back at me, her eyes as wide as mine. And despite her stunned expression, I couldn't help but notice that she looked tired. Her skin was pale and her dark eyes looked heavy and weary. And even under her heavy coat, I could see that she was far too thin.

"Granger?" I said stepping closer to her, "Is that you?"

Her spine stiffened and she took a step back. "Malfoy?" She whispered, her voice so quiet I barely heard the word.

I nodded, holding my hand out as if she was a frightened animal about to flee, "Are you okay?"

She cringed away, her shoulders hunching and her eyes dropping to her feet. "How did you find me?"

"I didn't find you." I said quietly, "I live right up there."

She lifted her head to look at me, and then followed my hand to where I was pointing towards my house on top of the cliff. She looked back at me and her brow creased.

"You're lying. You live at the Manor," She stated and then began to back away.

"No," I said, shaking my head, "Not anymore. I haven't lived there for a long time."

Her skin became even paler and she looked shaken, "You didn't see me Malfoy," She hissed and turned to the stairs.

Unthinking, I lunged forward and grabbed her arm, stopping her. She flinched and I instantly released my grip, holding my hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"Sorry," I said, "But I just want you to know that you have nothing to worry about. I assure you, I have no intentions of telling anyone where you are."

She shot me a look of disbelief, "Yeah, right. I have no doubt that you'd enjoy being the one who discovered where I was and sprout that you found pathetic Hermione Granger to the press."

"If I told them where you were, they'd know where I was." I said calmly, "Why do you think I live up here?"

She still looked sceptical. So I smiled and took half a step back, putting some distance between us and hopefully giving her the idea that I meant her no harm.

"You have my word Granger. You're safe here. No one will know where you are. Not because of me, anyway."

She simply stared back at me, before turning and starting up the stairs.

"Granger?" I called and she turned back to face me, "I'm just up the hill." I wanted her to know that I was nearby, that I was close if she needed anything. But I knew that she had to be the one to the one to decide if she needed anything from me.

She gave me a puzzled look and I nodded and walked away.

I was dressed and ready for work early the next morning, but I could hardly drag myself away from the window that faced the cottage below. I'd been standing there for the last thirty minutes, my coffee had gone cold and there had been no sign of her; the curtains were drawn, no smoke rose from the chimney, no figure sat like a statue on the beach.

I had hardly slept, tossing and turning all night after my surprise encounter with Granger on the beach. I'd been shocked. Of all the people that I had pictured the woman staying in the cottage being, she had most definitely not been one of them. And the sight of her had caused an ache in my heart. Her expression was one of sadness, of distress, of a hurt so deep that her face was more vulnerable than I could ever have imagined. The strong, resilient Granger that I had known was gone. And in her place was a fragile, timid waif. She was so pale and drawn that she was almost a ghost.

And I hadn't thought it possible, but I hated that bastard even more. He had betrayed her and had broken her trust, had broken her. And it had taken everything I had to not wrap my arms around her and tell her that I was not him, that I wouldn't hurt her, that she was so much more than he ever deserved.

But seeing her reaction when she saw me, her instant fear that I would tell the world where she was, made me flinch. I had treated her so badly for so long I shouldn't have really been surprised. All those years of being completely besotted with her, but treating her like she was nothing more than dirt, were now coming back to bite me. Her complete distrust of me was well deserved.

And now I had to leave. Had to go to the office and spend the day sorting out the mess that was developing. But it was the absolute last thing I wanted. What I wanted was to stay home and sit by the window, keeping an eye out so she didn't leave. I had watched the cottage, like the stalker I was becoming, for the remainder of Sunday afternoon. I hadn't seen her leave, but of course, she could have apparated and I would have had no idea. But I had the feeling that she was simply hiding, remaining out of sight, because I was sure that she had not believed me. I was sure that she was expecting to be mobbed by the press.

But I had meant what I had said. I wouldn't do that to her. I wasn't the person she thought I was, not anymore. But I would have to take my time, because now that she was free from that pathetic imbecile, she would be mine and no one else would ever have her. I was a complete arse for thinking that way, but I had been in love with her for as long as I could remember, and the overwhelming need to protect her, to tell her she was more than what she thought she was with him, made it hard to breath.

And now that I knew where she was, I wanted it to stay that way.

By mid-morning I was a bundle of nerves. I had been staring at my door for almost an hour, my heart telling me to go back home, that she needed me. My brain, however, told me I was being ridiculous, that what she needed was privacy, and quiet, and space.

But I knew that I would achieve nothing when all I could think about was whether she would be there when I returned. I ran my hands through my hair, digging my fingers into my scalp. She had made it clear, with the few words exchanged on the beach the day before, that she wanted to be left alone. But the thought of her being alone and miserable and heartbroken was gnawing at me and telling me that she needed me and that I should go to her.

I flicked through the parchments that my assistant, Erica, had left on my desk and absently shook my head, tossing them aside. I spun my chair and looked out the window, there was no way I could concentrate on anything while I knew there was a possibility that she had already left and moved on to Merlin knew where. My feet were itching to leave and as the minutes ticked by, the temptation to go to her grew.

I groaned in frustration. I needed to focus, but there was no way I could. Not here. So I made a snap decision. I picked up my leather satchel and threw it over my shoulder, and strode from my office.

"I'm leaving for the remainder of the day," I said as I stopped in front of my assistants' desk.

"Is everything alright?" Erica Sparks peered at me over the top of her glasses, her brow was furrowed. She knew that Prescott's had reneged on their deal, and that I should be doing something about it, but with Granger swirling around in my head, I wasn't concerned about anything but her.

An old family friend of the Parkinson's, Erica was one of the few people who took no shit from me. Pansy had told me that Erica would be the perfect assistant for me and I took her on board without even meeting with her – Pansy's reassurances were enough. And Pansy had been right, she was perfect.

In her late fifties she was ruthless and efficient, level headed and fair. The perfect sounding board when my temper got the better of me. And I had had very little to be concerned about when it came to the daily operations at our new company. The offices ran like clockwork; meetings were on time, my daily schedule was on my desk when I arrived each morning, and the daily barrage of owl post was prioritised before she handed it to me. She was more organised and more knowledgeable than anyone else I knew – well, almost anyone. There was one person…

"Everything's fine," I assured her, "I just need a day off."

"Yes, you probably do." She agreed, but looked surprised. I had not left early once since the day we started. "But don't forget you have a floo meeting at eight tomorrow morning. Demetrius has become impatient." She looked pointedly at me.

I sighed.

Demetrius Brach, my supplier of rare ingredients and long-time friend of my father. I gripped the back of my neck and squeezed my eyes shut. The mere mention of the man's name made my head ache.

"I'll be here," I finally said, "And travel arrangements will need to be made."

"Do we know where he'll be?"

Demetrius moved around frequently. He was under the constant scrutiny of The Ministry, and I refused to think about why. I hadn't wanted to deal with him, but he had insisted that he wanted to help. That he owed it to my father – not that those sentiments had any impact on me. My father was in jail and out of my life. And it was good riddance as far as I was concerned.

My father. The man that I once idolised and adored, had shown his true colours during his trial, abandoning my mother and me in an attempt to save his own skin. I had no desire to see him ever again. He could rot in jail, for all I cared, but his associates seemed to think that I was still one of them. That I was still the purist I had been raised to be. I had managed to deflect their offers of help, but Demetrius had been persistent in his offer. I had reluctantly agreed, and so far, we'd had no trouble.

"If he's not here in London, then we won't be meeting with him." I tapped my fingertip on her desk, "It will most likely be next week. I'll let you know the details after I speak with him and you can finalise everything then. Send an owl if anything important comes up?"

"Draco..." She began, "Are you sure you're alright?"

I nodded, "I'm fine, really. I can't think straight at the moment, and I need to clear my head." I hoped that I sounded sincere. "Can you please cancel my day, and let Blaise and Pansy know I've left?"

My friends would have questions for me if I told them myself, and I was positive that they would show up later at the house, but I couldn't stay and the longer I stood in front of Erica's desk the more anxious I became.

She nodded and smiled, but her eyes told me she knew something was up. "Enjoy your day off then."

I agreed that I would and almost sprinted down the hallway, stepping quickly into the fireplace. My heart was racing at the thought of just seeing her, but the nervous knots in my stomach had me wondering if I would.

I took a deep breath, and said a silent prayer that she still be there. I called out my destination and disappeared instantly.

A/N:

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