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**** DRACO ****

It was still early in the evening, the sun only just dipping below the horizon, when I finally managed to wrangle my spine back into place and make my way to Granger's cottage. I paused on the top step and let out a shaky breath. I hoped that I would be welcomed and that she wouldn't simply scowl at me again and send me packing.

I had spent the day anxiously pacing, determining that I would cook for her and take my bounty down to her cottage, and hopefully she would invite me in to share it with her. And if she did send me on my way, I decided that I wouldn't give up. I would be patient. I had waited this long for her, I could certainly wait until she realised that I was the one for her.

I knocked on the door and watched through the large glass pane as she crossed the room, a surprised look on her face. She frowned, and I wondered if she would actually open it. I couldn't help but notice her attire. She was wearing an oversized fleece sweatshirt and a tiny pair of sleep shorts that showed all but the top three inches of her legs. Her feet were bare and her messy hair was piled in a heap on the top of her head.

She looked adorable, and who knew that Granger had legs?

She stood staring at me; she'd obviously not been expecting company. I held up my hand and smiled, mouthing Hi, and she sighed, finally crossing the room and sliding the door open.

I smiled and held out the bag I was carrying, "Welcome to the neighbourhood. Are you hungry?"

Her mouth twitched and she let out a small laugh, "Thank you, but I'm not sure I could eat all that."

I looked at the bag I was holding and realised that, in my nervousness, I probably made enough food for a small army, "Well then, there'll be leftovers for a week."

Her eyes finally met mine, "Or were you hoping to be invited in?"

I laughed, "You're too smart for me Granger. You always have been. And yes, that was my exact intent." I winked and hoped that I sounded sincere in my half-joke.

She looked at me thoughtfully, "Well, in that case," she stepped back from the door, "Come on in."

I held back the childish fist pump, and strode past her, nodding my thanks. I looked at the kitchen – it was spotless, as if it had hardly been used. I frowned, "Where..?"

"Um, the coffee table's fine." She slid the door closed, blocking out the rapidly cooling air, and curled herself on to one of the couches.

I placed the bag on the table and picked up the wine bottle, a St. Aubin La Princée Domaine Hubert Lamy, "Nice Granger."

She looked up at me and glanced nervously at the bottle I was holding, "Not the most expensive, but it's alright."

I nodded. "It's more than alright," I told her, "I have this exact vintage at home."

She narrowed her eyes at me, an expression I was all too familiar with, "I doubt that."

"Well, you can doubt it all you like. But I do have several of these in the cellar. I can prove it to you when you return the favour and come and cook for me." I winked at her, making her mouth twitch.

I refilled her glass and placed the bottle back on the coffee table, and moved into the kitchen, pulling plates and cutlery from the cupboards and draws.I grabbed a glass for myself from the cupboard, and noted the frown on her face as I made my way back to the couches.

"Sorry. Um, I own this place." I told her.

"You?" Her eyes were wide with astonishment, and she glanced around the room, "You own this place?"

"Yeah, as well as the middle one. I bought them both and lived in this one while mine was being built. So I know where everything is." I gave her a small smile, "I shouldn't have just made myself at home though. Sorry"

"That's fine," she said absently, and watched as I unloaded the food.

"Granger," I began carefully, "When was the last time you ate?"

If I had thought she was thin beneath her bulky overcoat, it was nothing compared to how tiny her frame was now that I could see her properly. She looked like hell, but there was no polite way to tell her that. She was pale and drawn, and her eyes were heavy with dark circles beneath them, and she was way too thin.

"I've had a shitty few weeks, and I've been feeling, well...shitty. Eating hasn't been a high priority." She shrugged, "What did you bring?"

I frowned at her, but didn't comment on her admittance of not eating. "I cooked chicken cannelloni with an anti-pasto salad and eggplant caponata."

"Italian? You cooked Italian?" Her eyes went wide, almost comically so. "Wait, you can cook?"

I laughed, "Yes, I can cook. And yes, I can cook Italian."

She leaned forward, watching me closely as I placed the plates on the coffee table and took the food containers from the bag. I smiled at her curious expression, "You alright?"

"Ah, yeah. Fine." She muttered, sitting back.

She licked her lips unconsciously and I felt a surge of pride rush through me. It would abundantly clear to anyone who saw her that she was barely eating, but the way she was ogling the food I was currently sliding onto the plates, I was sure it was about to change.

I handed her a plate and sat on the couch opposite her. "What?" I asked as she examined the plate.

She shook her head, "Nothing. I just..." She huffed out a nervous laugh, "I guess I just never thought I'd ever see the day when Draco Malfoy waited on me."

I grinned, "Probably thought you'd never be living in my house either."

"I guess not." She admitted and took a small mouthful from her plate and groaned.

"Good?" I asked unable to hide my smug smile.

"Holy shit!" She exclaimed, "You cooked this?" I nodded and she groaned again, "It's incredible."

"Thanks," I said, my smugness disappearing, replaced by heat warming my cheeks.

"Seriously Malfoy, this is amazing." She smiled. An actual, genuine smile, "I thought I could cook, but my attempts at Italian are mediocre compared to this."

"I'm glad you like it." I was sure that this was the first time in weeks that she had eaten properly, and I felt another surge of warmth rush through me that I had been the one to get this reaction from her. I cleared my throat, "Um, I wanted to apologise for when we were at school."

She gave me a half smile, "Thank you, but it's not necessary."

"I think it is," I disagreed, "My behaviour back then was deplorable."

She gave me a half smile, "You were truly awful. The way you berated and insulted me, you were so intent on tearing me down, and I won't lie to you, it hurt. But, there was – is – no point in holding onto any of that anymore, and besides, I forgave you a while ago."

I looked at my glass, twirling it absently-mindedly in my fingers, "How can you just forgive me? I would want to kill you if you had treated me the way I treated you."

"For a long time that was true, but everything changed that one day and I saw a different side of you."

I frowned, "Which day?"

"The day you were called to cross the courtyard. You hesitated. You didn't want to do it. You didn't want to be one of them."

"Yeah," I huffed, "I still crossed over though. I was a coward. A coward, and nothing more."

"No, a coward wouldn't have done that to protect his mother. A coward wouldn't have even shown up."

I smiled ruefully at her, "I think you're being far too kind."

"I see no point in holding onto any anger, you were young and under influences that I couldn't begin to imagine. It's in the past, so let's leave it there and move on."

I nodded, "I still want to apologise."

"Apology accepted."

We sat in companionable silence while she devoured the food on her plate. And I almost laughed at the thought that she might even lick it clean. She groaned and slid the empty plate onto the table.

"Wow," she breathed and pressed her hand to her stomach, "I haven't eaten that much in weeks. I think I might explode."

I laughed and waved my wand across the table. The plates floated across the room, and landed safely in the sink.

"What are you doing?"

"The dishes," I answered and grimaced at the scowl on her face.

She slid off the couch, and stomped over to the sink, "You don't have to use magic for everything!" She flicked her wrist and the water stopped running, and she began to scrub the plates with more vigour than was necessary.

I crossed the room and touched her shoulder lightly. She glared at me, "Sorry,' I said, "Let me help."

She shook her head and snapped, "You cooked. I'll clean up. Sit back down."

I winced at her tone, but did as she asked, watching from the couch as she muttered and mumbled, moving around the kitchen, clearing away the mess until there was nothing out of place. She huffed out a breath and rejoined me.

"Sorry," I repeated and leaned towards her, "Do you have an issue with magic?"

"At the moment, yes." She clenched her jaw, "I just want a break from it right now."

I nodded, as if I understood. But her reluctance to use magic made no sense. Just because Weasley had treated her like dirt, it didn't mean she should give up on everything. I wanted to reach over and take her hand, but there was already a heavy awkwardness sitting over us, and a simple touch, no matter how innocent, felt too intimate.

"Why are you really here?" she asked quietly. "Are you here to gloat?"

I frowned at her, "Gloat? Why would I gloat?" She shot me an incredulous look and I shook my head, "No Granger. I'm not here to gloat. What happened to you is…I can't even imagine what that was like. So no, I wouldn't dream of throwing it in your face."

"What do you think happened?"

I shifted forward and leaned my elbows on my knees, "I'll admit I only know what I read. And I don't believe most of it."

"You still read it." She said, her tone accusatory, "And I'm sure you – like everyone else - enjoyed all the sordid details in the gossip columns. You probably laughed about it every day while you ate breakfast with some stupid bint or another."

I held my face passive. Is that what she thought of me? That I slept with dozens of unknown women? I'd loved to have set her straight and tell her just how wrong she was. I would have loved to have told her that I hadn't had sex in over a year, that my hand had been my only companion.

"You're right," I agreed, and added, "About me reading it, not about having breakfast with some random woman. I don't do that."

She eyed me suspiciously, her jaw was clenched tightly.

"And I'm sorry that I read it at all, and I'm sorry that he treated you like that."

She pursed her lips, "Are you here to find out what happened? Because you're wrong. You should have believed what you read. For once, the papers got it right, it was pretty much the truth."

I shook my head, "Granger, I didn't come here to get a story, or laugh, or gloat, or do any of the things I'm sure you're thinking. You don't have to tell me anything. I just wanted to know that you're okay. That's all."

She stared at me, as if trying to decide if I was telling the truth. She lifted her glass to her mouth and swallowed it all in one go. I picked up the bottle and she held her glass out, allowing me to refill it. She took a deep breath and lowered her eyes.

"I don't know why he did it. Everything was perfect. At least I thought it was." She swallowed and looked back up at me, her eyes blinking rapidly, holding back the tears. I shifted from my place and sat beside her, far enough away that she wasn't uncomfortable, but close enough that I could reach out and touch her foot.

"Do you know what it's like to walk in on the supposed love of your life – the man you'd spent six years of said life with - with his dick inside another woman atop his desk at work?"

"No, I really don't." I said and squeezed her foot.

"Well, you might be surprised to discover that you might not react as you would expect. You might expect screaming, yelling and cursing, or even the throwing of heavy objects." She let out a shaky exhale, "But not me. I simply smiled and wished him much enjoyment and walked out. Not very courageous, I know, and my lunch made an encore appearance in the bathroom just before I fled the building."

I dragged my thumb across her ankle, "As courageous as you could be in that moment, I think."

"I guess, " She said and sighed, "And before I had a chance to block him from coming into the house, he was there and I listened to the grovelling; the countless apologies; the countless times he said I still love only you and the even more ineffective she means nothing to me. And my personal favourite, I was just fucking her, I make love to you."

I snorted incredulously, I couldn't help it, and she bit her lip, a rueful smile escaping her. "I'm glad there was a justification for his actions." I drawled.

She nodded and then shrugged, "I guess in his mind I should have just accepted that, and forgiven him. I couldn't even look at him; I couldn't even be near him. I didn't want to be near him. So I packed up everything I owned and then I listened once more to his final apology, the final please don't leave, we can work this out. I slapped his face and told him he was lower than the scum that lived beneath the dirt on his shoes and I informed him that if he came near me again I would do more than slap him."

A single tear ran down her cheek, and I wanted to brush it away. But I resisted and my hand remained on her foot, my thumb still circling lightly on her skin.

"And then I walked out of the home we had bought together, the home I thought we would spend the rest of our lives together in. I stayed with Harry for two weeks, until I thought I would go insane, and then I came up here. I didn't want to shut myself away. I didn't want to run away, and I didn't want to hide. But the constant noise of the gossip reporters, and the constant everything will be fine, and you're strong, you'll get through this, from my friends was all too much to take." She took a breath, "I needed the quiet to think, to give myself the time I needed to sort out how I felt. What I didn't need was everyone telling me how I should feel."

"How do you feel?"

She looked startled at the question. She took another large sip of her wine and looked down at my hand on her foot. I kept it where it was, knowing that she would tell me to move it if she was uncomfortable.

"I feel empty," She finally said. More tears slid down her cheeks and she brushed them away, "I feel like I've been stripped to nothing, and I don't know how to get back to me."

"You know its okay, don't you?" I asked and her brows creased. "I mean, it's okay to feel like that. You don't have to be strong; you can feel shitty, you can be weak and miserable and hate the world. You can be all of that and it's perfectly fine."

She shifted, and my hand slipped from her foot. I immediately missed the contact, but she angled herself towards me, curling her knees to her chest and leaning her head on the back of the couch. "Is that how you dealt with everything?"

I nodded, "Pretty much. I hated the world, hated my father, so I hid and limited my contact with everyone. I built my house up here so I was away from everyone and everything, and I discovered that when you lead a totally boring life, the gossip dies down quickly." I put my glass on the table and leaned back on the couch, my head lolling to the side to look at her. "Have they contacted you?"

"The gossip columnists?"

I shook my head, "No, Granger. Harry and Ginny."

"Oh," she said with a laugh, "Yes, both of them. Every day. Sometimes twice, sometimes more. Pansy too."

"You haven't ignored them? You've told them you're okay?"

"I haven't ignored all of their owls." She told me, "And yes, I'm constantly telling them I'm okay and that I'm safe. It's as if they don't think I can take care of myself."

I chuckled, "You should go easy on them. None of them know what it's like. And they're just worried."

"Draco Malfoy," she said with wide-eyed grin, "I never thought I'd ever hear you telling anyone to go easy on Harry Potter."

I laughed, "No, probably not. But I'm sure he, and everyone else, is just concerned for you."

"You think I should tell them where I am?"

I shook my head, "Not if you don't want to. My mother, Blaise and Pansy, and now you, are the only people who know where I live, and I plan on keeping it that way. Tell those people you can trust, only when you're ready. But don't ignore them, let them know that you're safe and that you'll tell them where you are when you're ready."

She stretched her leg out a poked me playfully with her toe, "What happened to you? You used to be all nasty and sullen and broody."

"Is that what you prefer?"

"No," she said tilting her head, "I guess this is just unexpected. Different."

"I'm not always this sweet and cuddly, I'm still a tyrant at work," I told her, making her laugh, and I knew instantly that it was a sound I very much wanted to hear more often.

"What made you change?"

"I guess I just decided to grow up," I shrugged, "It's a much better option than being angry all the time."

A sudden crack of thunder caused her to jump, and her hand gripped my arm tightly. She swore and looked out the window, her fingers digging even harder into my arm as another thunderous boom sounded.

"You alright?" I asked covering her hand with mine.

She nodded, but her face was almost like a ghost, and she looked anything but alright. In fact, she looked almost scared to death.

"Granger?" I said gently, "What is it?"

"Nothing...I just..." She winced as another loud crack sounded and shook the windows. "I can deal with rain and wind and lightning. But thunder..." She shuddered.

I patted her arm, "I can stay here until it passes. I have no plans."

"I'm being ridiculous," She said with a shake of her head, "You should go before the storm really hits."

This time I took a risk and squeezed her knee, "Granger. It's dark outside, I can apparate home. I don't do it during the day in case someone sees me. So I can stay as long as you need me." I patted the cushion on the couch and added, "In fact, these couches are exceptionally comfortable. I can crash here if you want."

Her eyes went wide and her cheeks flushed red, "Um. I, ah…that's probably not…"

I waited, but she turned away, staring out the window as the lighting lit up the sky.

"I'll sleep on the couch," I told her and she shook her head.

"No, really. It's fine." Another loud rumble of thunder shook the cottage and she shifted closer to me.

I laughed, "Granger, you're here alone, If you're comfortable for me to be on the couch so you can feel more at ease, then I'm happy to help."

She looked at me and grimaced, "You think I'm pathetic, don't you?"

"No," I said shaking my head, "Not at all. Just get me a pillow and a blanket, I'll be happy here."

"You don't have to sleep on the couch, there's a bed upstairs."

I arched an eyebrow at her, and her face went an adorable shade of crimson, and I couldn't resist teasing her, "That's a bit forward Granger. I only meant for this to be a dinner between friends, I didn't expect there to be benefits."

Her body tensed and she glared at me, "The bed in the spare room Malfoy. Since this is your house, I'm sure you know it's there."

I had to admit, my offer was rather forward, I'm not sure why I had said I would stay. I knew it myself that I was trying too hard to get in her good graces, but even this was over the top. She sat staring at me and I was sure that she would tell me to leave.

"I'm kidding Granger," I assured her, "The couch will be fine."

"Are you sure?" She finally asked quietly.

I nodded, "I am."

She got up and crossed the room to the hallway cupboard, retuning with a pillow and blankets. She handed them to me and I kicked off my shoes, smiling up at her.

"Thanks Malfoy," she whispered and bolted up the stairs.

I grinned after her, settling myself on the couch. The storm had gathered strength and the rain had begun pelting against the windows. I was certain that the thunder had stopped with the arrival of the rain, but who was I to question her need for me to spend the night – even if it was only on the couch?

A/N:

As always, much thanks for reading, reviewing, favouriting, following...all of that. Taking all the love that is being sent my way and sending it back out ten-fold xx