Chapter 3: Helping You Helping Me

Comin down the world turned over

And angels fall without you there

And I go on, as you get colder

Or are you someone's prayer

Draco woke up early. The sun hadn't begun to shine through his tall window yet, and he knew it was well before sunrise. Knowing he wouldn't sleep any longer, he grumbled and crawled from his large bed and dressed in loose fitting jeans. The house was warm, thanks to the house elves attention to the fires all throughout the night, so he forewent a shirt, and made his way to the kitchen for a glass of pumpkin juice.

As he left his room, he paused as he passed the room he'd offered to Hermione the night before. The door was slightly ajar—probably because one of the house elves had been in and out with laundry or some such errand—and his curiosity got the best of him. He slid the door open just enough to see the bed where the woman lay.

Hermione's hair was splayed out across the pillows, and she lay on her stomach, the covers were bunched at the bottom of the bed, and Draco saw that she was dressed in a white, silk nightgown. He smiled at how much better she looked already—having taking a bath, had something to eat and had a night's rest in a decent bed. He was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn't notice her eyes flutter open and focus on him.

Hermione twitched slightly when she realized that Malfoy was watching her from the doorway. She didn't know how long he'd been there—or why he was there at all, but it sort of made her uncomfortable. She sat up, keeping her eyes on him, and settled her legs over the edge of the bed.

Draco started. He didn't realize she was awake—but when she moved, it was clear that she'd been watching him watching her for sometime. He cleared his throat and felt his cheeks redden of their own accord.

"How long have you been there?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know." Draco responded, rubbing his neck embarrassedly. "I was on my way to the kitchen when I saw your door open…"

Hermione nodded, and then realized that he was without a shirt. She allowed her eyes to liner on his chest and travel down his abdomen. He was still build from his years of playing Quittich, she thought—he must not have lost the habit when school let out. She was used to seeing men half dressed in one way, shape or form, but for the first time, she felt something stir in her, looking at Malfoy that way. 'It's because I've known him so long.' Hermione thought to herself, 'that's all it is. All men are the same.' Shaking herself from her reverie, she stood and reached for the robe the elves had laid out for her. "You said you were headed to the kitchen?" she quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Uh. Yeah, I was." Draco said, momentarily stunned at her audacity. The Granger he knew would never have been so bold as to walk around in a nightgown and thin silk robe around a man she hardly knew—much less a man she spent most of her childhood loathing.

The sun was just beginning to turn the sky pink when they made it to the ground floor of the Manor. Draco led Hermione across the huge house to the kitchens and began to pull out things to make breakfast with.

"You make breakfast for yourself?" Hermione asked, and she couldn't keep the condescension from her tone.

"My Grandmother taught me how to cook. When I was little, I used to pretend I was mixing potions when we made stew. It just sort of grew from there." Draco said, giving her a hard look. "I know how to cook—and I prefer to do it myself."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "I never would have guessed a Malfoy would dirty their hands with such menial labor."

"I'm not the same Malfoy I used to be, Granger." Draco ground out, lifting two eggs from their carton and cracking them over a bowl.

"I guess it will take some getting used to. I'm sorry." Hermione's voice softened. "Things just seem so backwards now. I'm standing in my former enemy's kitchen in his mother's nightgown, and I haven't spoken to any of my so called friends in over a year… almost two." Hermione sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"Why haven't you spoke to Potter or the Weaslette since you and Weaselbee split?" Draco asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"It wasn't that easy, I'm afraid. When Ron and I split, Harry and Ginny were on their Honeymoon. I had to get away from the magical world—when Ron and I severed the bond and made the divorce official, it felt like I'd never be able to do magic again. I just thought it was a sign. I ran into the Muggle world, where it would be difficult for them to track me—but not entirely impossible, because I knew Harry knew about agencies that could do such things… So I stayed on the move, after the little book store I opened closed down. Finally, I faked my own death—turned a lead into the local police' station with a name, I was missing. The police naturally did a search, and after a few weeks labeled me as missing with no hope of being found… they didn't even have a picture of me to run in the papers. I fled the country for a while. I was in France when I over heard some little old ladies talking about the huge upset my death had caused for Harry Potter and his pregnant wife. Something about how they searched and searched and couldn't even find the body. They'd given up after a month…but I get the feeling he's still looking." Hermione said, but her voice had faded as she explained herself.

"You're telling me Potter doesn't know where you've been all this time? You know he's probably blamed the entire thing on Weasley, right?" Draco had mixed the eggs together with some spices and a little milk, and was pouring them in a hot frying pan.

"At first, that's what I wanted, I think." Hermione admitted. "I was so angry. So hurt by Ron's actions. I'm still mixed up about it all." She sighed. "And now, what am I supposed to do, walk back into his life like nothing happened?"

Draco shrugged his shoulders. Even he didn't think it was right to hide such a thing from people he knew wanted to help her—from people who never would have let her…do what she was doing the day he found her. "I suppose not." Was all he said.

Hermione remained quiet, only sat on a stool at the bar sipping pumpkin juice and watching Draco cook.

--

When they'd finished their breakfast, the house elves had appeared and cleaned up their plates, and Hermione and Draco ventured into the Great Room to continue their conversation.

"Are you going to tell me what turned your life around?" Hermione asked, as she placed herself gingerly on the end of a comfortable looking sofa, tucking her feet beneath her.

Draco nodded. "I'll start with Graduation—since that's the last time we really saw each other." Draco began, taking a deep breath. "You see, when we graduated, and you went home with your friends, I returned home to a house that had been turned upside down by Aurors. Even the house elves couldn't fix some of the things that were completely destroyed in this place. Family heirlooms were broken or missing. And you know what Granger—I was happy. I was overjoyed that the house had been torn apart. Because I hated looking at it. I started remodeling the house that day and I haven't finished it even now. The wing you're staying on is the same as mine because the other wings have been…neglected. There are simply too many memories there. I hate that I can walk into a room in my house and point out stains in the carpet from my own blood." Draco's voice was low, and he didn't bother to hide the resentment he felt for his parents.

"What you and the rest of the Golden Trio never knew, Granger was that I never wanted to be my father. But, when I was around him. When he wasn't off murdering Muggles and Muggle-born witches and wizards, he was beating me until I did every little thing he wanted me to. I was your enemy because it was beaten into me. Because my father said so."

Hermione stared at Draco with newfound knowledge. Her eyes glimmered and it looked as if she wanted to say something, but she kept her mouth closed.

"So when I got the letter that I was to appear in court to testify against my father, it felt as though some great pressure had been released from me. It felt like I'd finally been released from my cage. The day they both were kissed—that was the day I finally started to clean this place up. It had been a month since I'd returned home. I wasn't sure I didn't just want to sell the house and all the stuff in it and start over—but part of me knows that I can make something better out of it." Draco sighed.

"I never knew you hated your father so much." Hermione said, a bit dumbfounded by it all. "I guess, since you looked so much alike, and you were such a prat to me and my friends when we were younger—I just figured you were the next Malfoy Heir… the next Death Eater in training."

"I never was a Death Eater. My mother forbade my being marked." Draco whispered. "That is the only thing I can thank her for."

"Why did you choose to open this business you say you run? Surely you don't need the money?" Hermione changed the subject after an awkward pause.

"It was never about the money. I've always been interested in potion making. Its like I said during breakfast. It was my best subject in school—and I earned my grade, despite the fact that you may think Snape gave me top marks because I was in his house." Draco looked at her meaningfully and she shrugged her shoulders acceding the point. "I do it because it gets me out of this blasted house." Draco said, looking, for emphasis, around at the high ceilinged room.

"Your Manor is amazing. But it's way too big for one person." Hermione agreed.

"Exactly. It's filled with memories I'd rather not have to deal with, too." Draco said, not looking at her. "That's how I stumbled across you. I was sitting in a coffee shop in Muggle England. Just trying to avoid coming home."

Hermione nodded slightly. She let the silence drag out a moment, before lifting her eyes shyly to Draco's face. "How long are you going to let me stay here?"

Draco sat back in his chair and stared at her in thought. "Honestly, I hadn't thought about it." He replied, "But I suppose you can stay as long as you want. I'm not using this place for much—and it's really too big, as you said, for one person alone."

Hermione nodded. "If I stay, will you let me help you around here? Help you fix the place up? You mentioned those other wings…"

"I…" Draco hadn't considered ever reopening the other wings. They were the ones his family had used during the War. There were true horrors on that side of the house, and he wasn't sure he was ready to face them. But, he thought, Hermione seemed so willing to help him—and perhaps it was just what he needed. Someone to be there with him—to help him forget about the past. Draco nodded to himself, and said, "I'll make you a deal, Granger. You can help me with those parts of the Manor—though I warn you, those were the sections of the house that were most heavily used during the War—and I'll help you get your magic back." Draco leaned forward, looking closely at Hermione's face.

"Malfoy—my magic… I don't think it's ever going to come back." Hermione said, and she sounded for all the world like a lost child. "It left when I left Ron."

Draco was determined, "You forget that I am a genius at potions, Granger. And with your help, we might just stumble upon a breakthrough. I know you can't brew potions properly without magic, but you can read about them. And if I remember correctly, you were a genius when I came to studying for stuff like that." Draco reassured her.

Hermione paused a moment and then nodded. "Alright. I suppose it's a deal. I'll help you and you can help me—and… and we'll see where this goes. But no one can know that I'm here." Hermione warned.

Draco frowned a bit. "That's not a big deal. I simply floo my secretary and tell her that I have business away from the office until further notice. They can hold things down there without my presence. We can work from the Manor—I have a potions lab on the other side of the kitchens." Draco compromised.

Hermione began to smile, "Wow… Great. When can we get started?"

--

Both Hermione and Draco dressed and found their way to the potions lab before it was ten o'clock in the morning. Draco had picked his way through the enormous library and had selected a few books and scrolls that he thought might help. He gave them to Hermione for research and set about digging through his various potions manuals to see if he could find any kind of magic restoration potion recipes.

A few hours in, and Hermione had flipped through two gigantic books and found nothing; Draco had brewed one potion and was waiting for it to cool enough for Hermione to test, and had started on a second in the meantime.

"There's nothing here!" Hermione screamed suddenly, frustrated. The sudden noise startled Draco and he dumped three times more wartroot into the cauldron than was necessary. The bright green liquid bubbled over the brim and spilled all over the floor—just missing Draco's retreating shoes.

"Watch out!" Draco said, pulling Hermione up from her chair and dragging her behind him. "I don't know what this combination of materials can do!" They watched as the green goo reached the table and chair Hermione was studying at and began to sizzle and eat through the wood.

"Interesting." They both said at the same time and looked at each other and laughed a bit.

"Too much wartroot created an acid that seems to only eat through organic materials." Draco hypothesized.

"Let's test it." Hermione said, pulling a brand new, processed plastic clip from her hair and tossing it into the green puddle. The good covered the thing, but did not destroy it. "That is interesting. Not useful for our purposes, though. And its about to get to those books!" Hermione cried, leaping over the puddle, and landing haphazardly on the chair as it was tilting—she reached down, grabbed the tomes she'd placed on the table and that were about to slide off, and carefully leapt off the chair to the other side of the green river.

"Didn't know you were a gymnast." Draco muttered, waving his wand and cleaning up the mess.

"Me either." Hermione said, shaking her head. She placed the books down on a nearby counter and righted the chair again.

"Let's try not to let that happen again." Draco intoned. "Next time we might not be so lucky.

--

They took a break for lunch, and then took a walk in the gardens outside the Manor. Draco and Hermione passed much of the time in a kind of companionable silence—having come to an unspoken truce the night before or early that morning, it seemed they felt comfortable in the other's presence now.

After a while of walking, Hermione turned to Draco and asked a question that had been on her mind since they'd struck the deal that morning. "Do you ever think that things happen the way they do for a reason?"

Draco looked down at her quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"Well—Do you think that there was some…reason… that you found me when you did. Do you think that I ended up here for a reason?"

"Since when did you get into divination, Granger?" Draco quirked an eyebrow and smirked at her. When she didn't answer, he pushed forward, "honestly, I don't know. I don't even know why I decided to help you out. It just… seemed wrong somehow… that the great Hermione Granger should end up that way…"

"You really have changed, Malfoy." Hermione whispered.

"Not really. I just finally got the freedom to be able to express my true feelings without regret." Draco replied.

They walked back toward the Manor in silence, and just as they were climbing the steps, Hermione whispered something Draco almost didn't catch, "I don't go by Granger, anymore."

Draco looked down at her puzzled. "What?"

"My last name." Hermione clarified.

"Surely it's not still Weasley?" Draco made a face.

"No." Hermione said, and pushed the front door open. "Its just… Hermione…now."

Draco followed her in, still not quite understanding, "You mean, you don't claim a last name at all?"

"Last names tie you down." Hermione reasoned. "I couldn't very well remain a Weasley. And my poor parents, if they ever found out the truth—that I was still alive—its just safer…"

Draco shook his head. "Well, Hermione, no-last-name, do you want to go and see the parts of the house I haven't touched, now?" Draco smiled at her, and couldn't help but picture an angel who'd fallen from the sky—no name, no real place in the world at all… And yet he'd been lucky enough to pick her up and take her home.

--

Part of Draco, the part of him he didn't quite understand, remembered all the nights he'd lied awake in his bed and prayed to whoever would listen for someone to walk into his life and make him want to be the kind of man his father never was.

Even though he felt he barely knew her. Even though they were sworn enemies in their school days, Draco felt that Hermione could make him that man. It scared him and it excited him and it filled him with hope. He hadn't quite figured out how, but he knew he would help her get her magic back—and he knew that somehow—going back into the parts of the Manor he feared the most would be ok, if she was by his side.

It was this courage that led Draco to suggest they explore the unfinished parts of the Malfoy Manor.

They left the front hall and headed up the Grand Staircase to the left side of the house. The house elves kept the dust off most of the furniture, but once could tell the place hadn't been habited in a while. Draco stopped, and Hermione behind him, when the reached two large, heavy looking double doors that blockaded a hallway off. "You're sure you want to help me with this?" Draco asked, looking over his shoulder at Hermione.

She held her hands to her heard, chewed her lip with anticipation, but her Gryffindor courage wouldn't let her back down. She reached out and placed a hand on his arm. "It'll be fine, Draco. We'll be together." With the other she reached forward and took the knob in her hand and twisted the door open.

Author's Notes:

I'm honestly SHOCKED at all the favorites and reviews I've received so far for this story! I'm so happy all of you like it so far!

Hopefully, I've answered a few questions that were left blank in the first two chapters. Things are going to pick up pretty quickly in the next few chapters—as the song and as the story progresses. So be prepared for a few twists, and a few surprises!


Thanks again for everyone's support! You really are what keeps me writing!

FM