Roses are red
Violets are blue
I don't own Harry Potter
This is sad, but true
Littlered1992 is actually a goddess. A Slytherin Word Goddess. Thank you my alpha/beta!
To all my reviewers, followers, and favouriters (totally a word): THANK YOU! From the bottom of my heart, your connection with my fic is what keeps me motivated to write more, more, more! You're wonderful *blows kisses*
Draco winced as the cool, gloved hands of the Medi-Witch prodded at his side. He was sitting on the edge of his dining table shirtless, as the squat woman bustled around him.
"You're the picture of perfect health, Mister Malfoy," she chirped and removed the thin rubber gloves with a satisfying snap.
"Thanks," Draco muttered. "Um…" he cleared his throat and the Medi-Witch arched an eyebrow, but continued to pack up her things.
"I was wondering…" he cleared his throat again.
"Don't send yourself into a tizzy," the witch smiled as she took in the flush that had crept up his cheeks. "Miss Granger sent me an owl last night; I've got enough stock here to last you a month."
She pulled out several large vials; sleeping potions and calming draughts. Draco felt his shoulders slump with relief.
"Thank you," he said.
"Though," the Medi-Witch suddenly frowned. "Within that time, I'd really like to work with you on overcoming your need for these," she indicated the potions with a wave of her hand.
Draco swallowed thickly, but nodded his assent. He didn't want to spend his whole life relying on potions to be able to sleep at night, but the reality of the last fortnight was not a pleasant alternative.
She offered him an encouraging smile and clicked her case closed. Tugging it from the table, she bade him farewell and left the room.
Draco frowned as he reached for his shirt and slid his arms into it. As he buttoned it up to his throat, he slid from the table and turned to glance at the range of medicine laid upon it. It was amazing, he thought, how much better he already felt simply knowing he had access to it once more.
Gratitude bubbled in his chest, and a mad idea burst and then died in his mind in the same breath; I should owl Granger to thank her.
He stiffened, one foot in front of the other. It wasn't as though Granger wasn't deserving of his thanks; she definitely was, even just for the Medi-Witch visit this morning. But the idea of sending her a personalised thank you? He blanched at the mere thought.
He shook himself roughly and continued on his way to his study. He wanted to pore over some more of the tomes he'd pulled from the library on Death Eater trials, from both the first rising and the second.
As he settled himself behind his long wooden desk, however, Draco was unable to erase the brunette witch from his mind. He pulled a leather bound book towards him with a growl, but the memory of their meeting yesterday kept him from absorbing any information.
At five minutes to eight in the morning, Draco descended the stair case that led down to the foyer and the front hallway. He willed his heart rate to ease, but it continued to gallop along as if it was trying to jump out of his chest.
She'll be here, he told himself; it wouldn't make any sense for her not to show up now.
He straightened his back and forced himself to look straight ahead, at the front door. He called for Miksy, who appeared at his side with a sound like a whip.
"Go and turn the lights on in the sitting room, please." He commanded.
The elf bowed low and disappeared to do what her Master had asked.
The blond began to pace. She's not going to show. Panic rose within him like a wave, threatening to drown him. As his breathing became shallow and his palms became clammy, a shiver ran up his spine to alert him to someone entering his wards.
Thank Merlin.
His shoulders slumped in relief for just a moment, before he resumed his rigid stance. He moved stiffly towards the door, and waited just inside it for the witch to arrive.
She knocked smartly on the wooden door. Draco inhaled sharply and squared his shoulders. Leaning forward, he grasped the cool metal handle in his right hand, twisted, and pulled towards him. The door swung open to reveal the slightly frazzled form of Hermione Granger.
"Hi, sorry I'm early," she said breathlessly. She shifted the files so that they rested in the crook of her arm.
Draco didn't know why, but he felt a surge of anger burn up his chest. Before he could stop it, it made its way out of his mouth.
"Nice of you to show up, Granger." The second the words had passed his lips, he wished he could take them back.
The witch looked up at him, her eyes wide and her lips slightly parted.
"Excuse me?" She shook her head, her crazy curls bouncing around her shoulders.
Draco gritted his teeth and moved stiffly to the side so that she could pass him. He lifted one arm and gestured for her to come in. She raised her eyebrows at him in question, but she crossed the threshold and began to move further into the hallway.
"Wow," she glanced back at him, a small smile on her face. "You've turned the lights on."
It was a simple observation, Draco knew. She was probably pointing out the difference because it made her feel safer, and would make it easier for her to do her job.
But as she admired the room, Draco felt his irritation only increase. He flexed his hands as they tried to tighten into fists.
"Would you like tea?" He growled.
Granger stopped as she was about to turn and sit in her usual armchair. Draco had begun to call it Granger's chair in his mind, and the reminder caused a vein to pulse unpleasantly in his neck.
"Mister Malfoy," Granger's eyes raked over him. "Are you feeling alright?"
Draco blinked. He could feel his face heating up as she continued to appraise him. Concern was written all over her face and he hated it. He'd never wanted to be pitied or cared for, least of all by her.
Emotions churned like the ocean inside of him. On the one hand, he knew Granger had helped to free him, and he still needed her; first, for himself, and second for his mother. The fact that he relied on the brunette witch, and would have to not only open up to her today, but also ask for more of her help, was almost too much for the blond to bear.
"It's just," she began to move towards him, palms out, "you snapped at me in the doorway, and now – "
The dam inside of Draco burst open.
"Now I seem a little tense?" He growled.
"Well – "
"Because I am tense, Granger." He could hear himself speaking, but it was like he was having an out of body experience, watching himself act without thought from above. "But I'm sure you can understand why; last week I was left here like an abandoned child, assuming that I'd be back in Azkaban before seeing the next sunrise!" His voice had risen and he was properly shouting, but Granger was still standing in front of him, regarding him with a confused expression.
"What?"
"Is all that hair clouding your ability to understand simple pieces of information, Granger?" He spat. "I'm saying, no one turned up."
"Malfoy." She had folded her arms across her chest, but she lifted one slowly towards him to stop his tirade. "I'm not following." Her voice was businesslike, but she spoke through her teeth as if trying very hard to rein in her anger. "Thanks to you, I've been in the Merlin forsaken filing department since I was taken off your case three weeks ago." She paused to close her eyes for a fraction of a second. She placed one hand on her hip, the other coming to rest over her eyes. "I was only reinstated this week; Tuesday, in fact. What do you mean no one turned up last week?"
He could practically hear her brain whirring as the hand over her face slackened and fell to her side. When she opened her eyes, they held a look of perpetual exhaustion, but also a fiery determination.
Draco hesitated; he wanted to shout some more. He wanted to relieve his chest of the burden of so many emotions, but he knew she was genuine; he'd seen that look of curiosity far too many times in the classrooms of Hogwarts not to recognise it for what it was.
"I mean," he cleared his throat in an effort to calm his voice, "that I didn't have a meeting last week." He jutted out his chin and folded his arms across his chest.
"But what about Morag?" Granger bit her lip and Draco was momentarily distracted.
"Um – " he stuttered.
Merlin, pull yourself together he berated himself.
"Morag was here the week before. I told her I'd only talk to you; she said she'd see what she could do. And then…"
He took a deep breath.
"You're telling me," Granger's arms had dropped back to her sides, "that you have not seen a case worker in two weeks now?"
Her eyes flashed dangerously and Draco briefly wondered if she was going to slap him like in third year. He felt foolish for thinking it, but an angry Hermione Granger was not something to be taken lightly. As often as he'd seen her excited over classwork, he'd also seen her angry. And Merlin, was she angry now.
"No," he said calmly, the anger having left him at the sight of Granger's flushed face.
"Bollocks!" The brunette witch flung her arms wide and then let them drop again. She turned away from Draco, one hand coming to rest on her hip. The other she raised to her hair, tangling it in to the unruly curls.
"Unbelievable," she whipped around. Angry red splotches had appeared on her cheeks and her eyes were glassy, though she didn't sound on the verge of tears. "That fucking bitch is playing with fire and she's bloody well going to get burnt!"
Her eyes locked with Draco's, her chocolate orbs widening as she realised her mistake.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. The hand on her hip dropped listlessly to her side, while the other clutched her throat. "That was so unprofessional of me."
Draco couldn't help the smirk that spread across his face. "It's fine, Granger." He said; and he meant it. He wasn't used to having Hermione Granger's wrath directed at someone other than him…well, maybe Ronald Weasley, but he hardly counted.
"Is the tea still on offer?" She said in a small voice. Her hands were running over the pleats in her skirt, an obvious attempt at regaining her composure.
"Sure," Draco nodded. With a click of his fingers, Miksy appeared and he ordered their tea. The little elf bowed low to both of them before disapparating away.
He was still feeling rather annoyed, but he no longer wanted to take it out on Granger.
"Have a seat." His voice was more serious than intended, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she rolled her eyes and did as he bade, crossing one leg over the other.
Draco sat across from her in his usual spot, and watched intently as she busied herself with her files. She seemed nervous, and he wondered with a pang of remorse if his outburst had caused her to question taking on his case again. He sat up a little straighter in his seat, and clasped his hands in front of him as if he was once again a First Year sitting in Minerva McGonagall's Transfiguration class.
Granger glanced up and opened her mouth to begin, but there was a loud crack and a silver tray appeared, two skinny legs barely visible under the small feast of tea and pastries.
"Miksy has your tea!" the house elf squeaked as the tray swooped and dipped dangerously across the room. Hermione jumped to her feet, her files scattering on to the floor.
"Here," she took the tray from Miksy and smiled at her. The elf's eyes widened and she looked fervently at Malfoy. He starred pointedly at his elf, and her gaze quickly dropped to the floor, where it remained as she shuffled backwards towards the door.
As she disappeared, Hermione sighed and turned to place the tray on the coffee table. Her head still full of questions regarding the treatment of his slaves, Hermione did not notice that Malfoy had left his seat. It was only when she bent down to collect her fallen papers and her head connected with his, that she realised that he had beaten her to the job.
"Ow!" He cried, dropping the files again and clutching his head with both hands. "Do you always attack people when they try to help you, Granger?" He sat back, still holding his head. Hermione was mimicking his actions, and watched him grimace through watery eyes.
"I didn't realise you were there," she bit out. He scoffed and pulled himself back up on to his haunches, using the armchair for support.
Draco grinned and rubbed his temple at the memory. His book lay in front of him forgotten, and he stretched backwards in his chair.
She had smelt nice, he remembered; like lavender and parchment. Her hair had been soft against his cheek, not at all like the wiry mess he had assumed it would be. The sound she had made as their skulls connected, a soft inhale, had sent shivers down his spine.
Once again, a tingle started at the nape of his neck, making the fine blond hairs there stand on end as he remembered. His smile began to widen, before common sense crashed over him like an icy shower.
Get a grip he internally growled at himself; this is exactly what Blaise was talking about!
Blaise. The git.
Draco's smile fell like dominos to be replaced by a dirty sneer.
It was all his fault really, Draco reasoned. If Blaise hadn't opened his mouth, Draco wouldn't be thinking like this.
He shook his head and stood abruptly from his desk; he needed to find something else to focus on – clearly legal tomes were not going to keep his thoughts from straying to his brunette case worker.
He jogged down the stairs, as if trying to run from something particularly unpleasant. Unfortunately, that unpleasantness was located in his mind, making it impossible to run from.
"Fucking Zabini," he hissed.
"So you had no meeting last week; were you expecting me this morning?"
Her voice had regained its business-like tone, but the flush had not entirely left her cheeks.
"Yes," he said slowly. "I knew you were coming today."
"How?"
He rolled his eyes.
"Blaise."
Granger's face twisted in confusion. Draco could practically hear the cogs turning; surely she'd remember the name, if not the face.
"Zabini?"
"The one and only."
Granger frowned. Draco decided he rather liked it when she didn't know things. He smirked to himself before continuing.
"Blaise went to see your boss," he said slowly. "Convinced her to put you back on the case."
Granger's eyebrows shot up.
"Really?"
Draco nodded and watched her hands move excitedly, rifling through her stack of parchment until she pulled a blank piece to the top of the pile. She flicked the tip of her quill with her wand, a simple inking charm Draco noticed.
"Zabini; can we trust him?" She did not look at him, instead beginning to scribble on the parchment.
It was Draco's turn to act surprised.
"Blaise? I'd trust him with my life."
Granger gave a grunt of assent and continued to write.
"Why?"
"I'm a lawyer," she looked up and smirked at him. "I need to know who is on our side, and who's not."
Our side. The words bounced around in his skull and he feared he might swoon or giggle. Get a grip, he urged himself. Malfoy's don't react so foolishly; especially not to words from Hermione sodding Granger.
"Pansy Parkinson." She shuffled some papers again and fixed him with what could only be described as a cold glare.
"What about her?"
"Can she be trusted?"
"I don't - ?"
"She visited you," Granger tapped the parchment with the end of her quill. "Two weeks ago; do you or do you not trust her?"
Draco schooled his features into a mask of indifference. He shrugged.
"With small things," he said slowly. "I guess."
"And yet you allowed her to stay with you overnight?"
If he didn't know any better, Draco would have sworn he heard Granger's teeth grind together. She was staring at him with hard eyes, and he had to physically stop himself from shrinking back into his chair.
"She's a friend, Granger." His voice had taken on an icy tone, but he needed to convey that Pansy was neither a threat, nor a true ally, when it came to his case with the Ministry.
"Is that all?"
"Merlin's tits, yes!" Draco rolled his eyes, partly at the question and partly at his reaction to it.
"I'm sorry," Granger said primly, though she didn't sound at all apologetic. "But if you think the Ministry is prying by asking about interactions between you and your parents, you're in for something ten times worse should they believe that you are in a relationship with one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight."
And so they had arrived at the purpose of the visit; well, sort of. Draco felt his heart sink lower in his chest until he would have sworn it was snuggled up to his stomach. Too late, he realised his jaw had dropped open. He snapped it closed, but not before he earnt himself a sly smirk from the brunette witch.
"I'm not in a relationship with Pansy," he muttered, keeping his gaze locked on Granger's. "She invited herself over, and I couldn't get her to leave. She slept in one of the spare rooms in my quarters. That's it."
He swallowed visibly, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.
Granger nodded once and then bent over her notes. When she glanced back up at him, she looked decidedly more relaxed.
She sighed and Draco's breath caught on an inhale.
This is it.
"Let me just get to the real reason I'm here; your parents."
Draco exhaled through his teeth.
"You have to understand, this is difficult for me…"
"You said you would answer the question if I agreed to take over your case again." Her eyes flashed and Draco fought the urge to yell at her.
"I said it was difficult, Granger, not impossible; calm your charms."
"I received a letter from my father the first week of my release," he swallowed thickly and began picking at non-existent lint on his trousers, "and I received another, last week."
He glanced back up at the witch, but all he could see was the top of her head as she bent over her files. He briefly wondered if she appreciated the lamps being lit; probably not, with the way her hair's blocking all of the light out anyway. He stifled a laugh.
"And your mother?"
Any sense of mirth disappeared from his body, like water being squeezed out of a sponge.
"Nothing," he whispered, shaking his head. "I wrote to her." He paused and cleared his throat, finding it suddenly tight. "But I…" he cleared it again. "She didn't respond."
He was looking at his shoes, shiny black dragon hide loafers bought for him by his mother just before he'd been sentenced. He swallowed thickly, noting that he could no longer hear the scratching of a quill for the ringing in his ears.
He glanced up, intent on asking the question; can you help my mother? But the look on Granger's face took all the words from his throat.
He had expected pity; perhaps a simpering pout of false understanding. Maybe she'd shake her head and tut, like his governess had done when he was a child and he'd upended yet another ink pot over the carpet.
He was definitely not expecting the expression he was greeted with as he and Granger locked eyes. Her face was twisted in a picture of ire; her eyebrows knitted together, and her mouth was as thinner than he'd ever seen it. Her jaw was clenched, and her breathing was audible as she almost hyperventilated.
Draco was not completely useless when it came to reading body language and emotions in the face of a woman; the only word for what Hermione Granger was feeling was furious. A sudden rush of warmth bloomed in his chest as he took in the fiery witch in front of him; he would tell himself hours later that it was because the brunette obviously cared about the wellbeing of his mother almost as much as he did.
"Granger?"
She shook herself, brown curls bouncing, and blinked at him.
"Sorry," she whispered. She cleared her throat.
"Let's continue. Next question…"
"Wait," Draco interrupted. "Don't you want to know what the letters said?"
Granger's lips quirked up into a smirk to rival one of his own.
"I'm sure the Ministry would like to know," she nodded slowly. "But it doesn't specifically state that I have to ask you that, so…" She let the sentence hang between them, the smirk still on her face.
Draco couldn't help but smile.
They finished the interview quickly, and then Draco stood to accompany the brunette to the front door. As they reached the entry, he stopped and turned to face her. He had never noticed how much smaller than him she was; her personality and crazy hair had always made her seem so much larger. He cleared his throat.
"Um," he began. "I just – " He exhaled loudly and ran a hand through his hair.
"Malfoy?" She frowned. "Are you okay?"
"Thank you," he blurted out.
"I – "
"For what you did…for me and…for me and my family." He stuttered.
"Oh." She blinked, her expression still slightly confused. "Um…you're welcome."
"Morag told me," he supplied needlessly. She nodded, shuffling her weight from foot to foot.
"I see."
"Yeah."
"Well I'd – " She said at the same time he said;
"Have a – "
She smiled. He grimaced; he didn't think he'd ever been this embarrassed. That was saying something, seeing as once he'd been turned into a ferret in front of half the Hogwarts student body.
"Bye, Malfoy."
"See you, Granger."