11 Reasons General Theme: 11 Reasons why Draco and Hermione Belong Together
Pairing: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger
Title: The One Who Knows
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter
Word Count: 1630
Prompt: Table 1 (Anatomy)—Sense of smell
Notes: Many thanks to my betas, Z and eilonwy!
All the things you treasure most, will be the hardest won
Dar Williams
ooo
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Hermione asked.
He stared in front of him at the large house and took a deep breath. "Yes," he said, but she heard the uncertainty in his voice.
"Draco, you don't have to be here."
"It's my home," he said through gritted teeth.
Hermione said nothing more and took his hand. He let her, but he didn't encourage her, holding his arm stiffly to his side. She let it go. They were standing with a group of Aurors outside Malfoy Manor, waiting. Lucius Malfoy had finally been captured and Narcissa, who had defected soon after her son, had given the house up.
Malfoy Manor had been the site of at least a dozen battles during the War, each one scarring the house and grounds. Windows were broken, large portions of the lawns scorched, and a large section of the south wing had been blown apart, exposing the interior of the house to the elements.
The Ministry wanted the property searched and all Dark artifacts seized. Draco had appealed for and been given the right to remove personal effects before the house was searched.
Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Auror in charge of this 'operation,' came out of the house through the half-hinged front door and declared it officially safe and free from wards.
Everyone looked to Draco, who took a few deep breaths and stalked through the front door without a word. Hermione wasn't sure if she should follow him. He'd said he wanted her there with him, but as soon as he'd set eyes on the home he'd grown up in, where he hadn't been in over a year, he'd closed himself off completely, throwing up bars and windows and padlocks.
She went to the door and chatted quietly with Kingsley, giving Draco time to disappear into the mansion if he wanted. She glanced down the hall and saw him standing at the end, waiting, frowning severely at the floor. With a sigh, Hermione crossed the threshold of the last place on earth she ever thought she'd go.
The walk down the front hall was haunting. Burn marks were visible on the walls and on the carpet; pictures hung askew; vases and various other things on display were broken, the pieces left scattered on the cold marble.
When she approached Draco, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, telling her in no uncertain terms that he didn't want to be touched. Hermione had to remind herself that he was going through something she couldn't possibly understand. She stopped a few feet away from him.
Draco nodded, indicating the hall that led to the south wing. "That way are all the extraneous rooms. Ballroom, parlor, music room, art galleries, even the Malfoy family museum, so to speak." He looked down the opposite hall. "Rooms, mostly. Mine is – was – on the second floor, just at the top of the stairs. Theirs…" he stopped, and Hermione saw him swallow several times before continuing. "Theirs was at the very end, to the right."
He looked at her – no, not quite. He looked just over the top of her head. "What would you like to see first?"
She wanted to leave. She'd never seen him like this and it scared her. It was as though he were fighting tears, anger, frustration, disappointment and his own betrayal all at once.
"I – I want you to pick," she said nervously.
"My room, then," he said with a single nod and he started for the Grand Staircase. Aurors would come behind them and they'd agreed not to touch anything until Draco gave them leave.
Hermione followed in silence, fighting tears of her own. She wanted nothing more than to take him in her arms and hold him and tell him everything would be okay. But there was no comfort for him, none he could take.
With a shaking hand, Draco pushed open the door to his room – to his former life – and stepped in. Hermione was not surprised to find the room done in green and silver. There were three large, ornate bookshelves on one wall, full of books of all sizes and shapes; a fireplace on a second wall; an enormous bed on the third and on the fourth, a dresser stood next to a floor-to-ceiling window covered in rich, velvet drapes. Draco quickly crossed the room and pulled open the drapes.
Dust flew into his face and he sneezed. "Doxies," he muttered. Slowly he turned around to face the room in the broad daylight. His eyes met Hermione's briefly before he crossed to the bookshelves and started making a stack of the books.
Hermione went to stand beside him, looking at the large collection. How to Always Get What You Want, An Encyclopedia of Dark Magic, The Dark Art of Seduction, 1000 Alternative Potions. These were just a few of the titles that jumped out at her. She gasped and backed away.
Draco paused and looked at her curiously. He was on his third stack of books, moving quickly through the shelves. "What?" he asked blandly.
"They're all…Dark," she said, turning to him.
The look he was giving her chilled her blood and sent shivers – the bad kind – down her spine. He looked at the book he was holding a read aloud. "Creatures of the Night, Volume III, S through Z." He sighed wearily, as though exhausted. "Hermione, what did you expect to find? Books on kittens?" He wasn't quite sneering, but it was the closest she'd heard from him since he'd joined the Order.
Hermione really didn't want to cry. She momentarily forgot who Draco was now and feared he'd make fun of her for it. Call her weak. For the first time, she was also slightly afraid of him; it was as though he'd become a different person when he'd set foot on his family's property.
Instead of comforting her like she'd hoped, Draco merely stared at her. "Well?" he demanded.
"I – you're keeping them," she managed.
Draco blinked and looked at the stacks of books he'd so far created and then back at her. "This…is who I am."
Tears pricked her eyes then and then, finally, she saw his eyes soften. He quickly shut them and rubbed his head.
"I…told you this would be hard," he said.
She knew that; she'd simply never expected it to be so hard for her. She hadn't anticipated just how strong an effect it would have on him; she'd thought she was strong enough for him.
Hermione only nodded and looked back at the books. More than ever, she wanted to hold him close, now to comfort herself as well as him, but she wouldn't. She felt so small then, staring at The Dark Art of Seduction and screaming at herself that he was different now, that he wasn't like that anymore.
"It's about murder," he said quietly. She jumped, unaware that he'd moved to stand right behind her. "My father gave me books like this all the time." Draco pulled it down and flipped through a few pages. "He wanted to brand my conscience early and irrevocably." He shut the book and looked at her, then tossed it on the first stack and returned to his task.
Hermione was at a complete loss.
"The nightstand by my bed," Draco said after a few minutes without looking at her. "It's locked. The password is libertas. That's what I read."
Hermione hesitated and then went to his bed. With a glance over her shoulder, she spoke the password and opened the drawer. Inside were two very worn and tattered books – A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens and Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain.
Gingerly she picked up Huckleberry Finn and glanced through it. There were markings all though it in his scratchy hand, obviously much-read. Her heart leapt and she turned around to find he'd completely emptied the shelves.
He was watching her.
She reddened and turned away to replace the book.
"No, keep it out. The other too."
Hermione complied, setting the books on his bed.
Draco started a fire in his fireplace and magically stoked it until it was roaring and she could feel the heat from across the room. "Want to help?" he asked her.
"Help with what?"
He picked up The Art of Seduction and tossed it into the flames. He smiled as the smell of burning paper filled the room. Hermione found his expression to be strange in the oppressive Manor. The brooding, mysterious, dark side she'd seen moments earlier fit with the surroundings. The smile didn't.
"Here," he said, holding out to her a dark red book. "I think you should toss this one."
Hermione went to him and accepted the book and looked at the title. Mudbloods and Their Uses. She almost dropped it; she almost opened it. In the end she threw it as hard as she could into the fire.
He pointed to one stack of books. "Those are flammable." To another: "Those are not." To the last: "Those will fight back if we try to destroy them. We'll leave those for the Ministry."
Hermione nodded.
Draco grinned. "Can you handle burning books, Granger?"
"Well, this is a very special circumstance. Yes, I rather think I can," she said firmly.
It took them an hour to finish and they made a game out of guessing what color the flames would be with each book.
For Draco, it was letting go of the part of himself he'd always loathed, always been ashamed of. Draco took two books, a picture of his mother and his broom from the house. Three months later, when the Ministry declared the house officially "clean", he and Hermione watched it burn to the ground.
ooo
A/N: Thanks for reading! The book, "The Dark Art of Seduction," was borrowed with permission of the author from "Forgotten" by Evy Black. EXCELLENT story, not yet complete. You may find it mugglenet fanfiction archives.