Thanks all for sticking with the story. Glad you're enjoying it; I have one more chapter currently written, ready to go after this and then I will have to put my nose back to the grindstone to get the rest finished.
Thanks to my reviewers/followers/favourites, I appreciate your continued support. (:
After they got back to the Manor, Narcissa had rushed in to console her; obviously Mimsy had told her the details of Hermione's conversation with Draco. She reassured her that she would take her out shopping the next day to replace her whole lost wardrobe, and whatever else she wanted to buy. Hermione thanked her and with a comforting smile Narcissa left the pair to their own devices. Draco had sat her down on the couch, given her a glass of strong Firewhiskey and asked Mimsy to cook a lasagne; one of her favourites. Crookshanks, unfamiliar with the Manor, began to explore curiously, his squashed nose twitching as he sniffed out this new place. After a while, he deemed it acceptable and settled down in front of the fire, his huge brush of a tail curling round his body.
"I should owl work," Hermione said wearily. "They'll need to know I'm not coming in tomorrow."
"I'll do it," Draco called from the kitchen, where he was helping Mimsy. A second later, he appeared, brushing his hands on the side of his robes. "You sit, and relax." He promptly disappeared into the corridor he had come from earlier, which Hermione presumed led to his study.
When he re-emerged, she smiled wearily at him. "Thank you Draco. I really owe you one for this."
"No you don't," he replied. "You told me once that you helped me because you wanted to, and that I didn't owe you any favours. Well, now I'm telling you the same thing. If anything, this is just a drop in the ocean to start making up for all that shit I put you through when we were kids."
"Don't be stupid," Hermione yawned. "Life's far too short to worry about grudges we had when we were eleven. Anyway, you didn't put me through that much shit. You were just an annoying, snobbish brat," she finished with a twinkle in her eye.
"You mean I was charming and witty, if a little misguided," Draco retorted.
"No, I'd say that's what you are now," Hermione laughed, and he laughed along with her.
The lasagne was finished and promptly devoured, as they talked in front of the fire. As promised, Crookshanks was served a large plate of fresh cod, which he gobbled up immediately, licking his lips with a pleased look on his face.
"Could that cat look any more smug?" Draco asked.
"Be nice," Hermione chided, "he had a near-death experience today. He gets to look as smug as he likes, don't you, handsome?" She directed her last words to her cat, who had rolled over and curled up again, watching them with his back to the fire. He meowed sleepily as if to agree with her.
Hermione sat back, her third glass of Firewhiskey in her hand and the heat of the room getting to her head. "I think I need to go to bed soon," she said. "I've got a long day tomorrow." Then her face fell. "Oh, no, I just remembered," she whispered quietly.
"What?" Draco was instantly alert.
"My first edition copy of Hogwarts: a History. I usually keep it in my vault at Gringotts, but I had it out recently to re-read it. It must have got destroyed in the fire," Hermione said sadly. "I don't think I'll ever have another one. There must be only a few copies in the world; it cost me over a million Galleons from my war money at the auction."
"Well," Draco said, "if you want a book to read, by all means, come and peruse the library. We have quite an extensive collection; perhaps you'll find something to take your mind off it."
Hermione sighed, her mind still on her beautiful book, but agreed and allowed Draco to lead her out of the main living room and into a corridor. They walked for what seemed like ages, until they came face to face with a great wooden door, which Draco pushed open to reveal a beautiful, grand library. The shelves were stacked to the ceiling and the room went back for ages; Hermione couldn't even see the back wall. "Wow," was all she could say.
"Impressive, isn't it," Draco said, pleased at her gobsmacked expression. "I used to spend days at a time in here as a child, learning about everything and anything I could. There are quite a lot of good fiction books in here as well - and some Muggle ones, recent additions, might I add," he winked. "But what I really wanted to show you is over here."
He tugged her gently over to the left, where there was a section with books in cases. "These are the oldest books in the library - we keep them in special glass cases so they don't get dusty," he explained. "Most of them are very valuable."
Hermione browsed over the collection, her eyes as wide as saucers. "That's an original copy of the Tales of Beedle the Bard!" she exclaimed. "And that's Merlin's own Folio!"
"That one's not an original," Draco hastily explained.
"Still!" Hermione said, shocked. "I can't believe you had access to all these - to all this! - your whole life! I'm so jealous!"
"Don't be," Draco said offhandedly, "you can use it whenever you'd like. I know you'll treat the books carefully."
"Oh, Draco, thank you!" Hermione said, throwing her arms round him. "This is the best present ever...after today...I'm honestly touched."
He embraced her tenderly. "You think of this place as your own while you live here, OK? The kitchen, the library, the studies, the house-elves, they're all at your disposal." He drew back, and Hermione tried not to let him see the tears of gratitude in her eyes. "But look," he said, pulling her gently over to the last case in the row. "What do we have here?"
Hermione looked down and her eyes were met with the familiar cover of her favourite volume. "You have an original copy too," she said softly.
"Of course we do," Draco said, "and now it's yours."
"Oh no," Hermione hurriedly said as he drew back the glass casing to reach in for the book. "I can't accept that. It's worth too much money. And it belongs here, in the library."
"Money? You're talking to a Malfoy. I'm richer than most of England put together," Draco answered with a touch of the aristocratic snobbery surfacing again in his voice. "Besides," he continued in a softer tone, "you're worth it. And I'd rather have this book read, and cared for and enjoyed than left in here, unlooked at and untouched."
"Still..." Hermione was unsure.
"Look," Draco said, "if you're that worried about the cost, then just think of it as a loan. This is a library, after all. Take it out, use it, read it, and bring it back whenever you like. Or don't bring it back at all, which is what I would personally prefer."
Hermione looked at the beautiful volume he placed in her hands, then back up to Draco's amused face. His eyebrow was quirked in the way only a Malfoy could manage, looking both exasperated and passionate at the same time. She couldn't help it. She nodded in acceptance, then leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him gently on the lips. It was just a touch of skin on skin, nothing more, but the atmosphere between them instantly became charged with tingling sexual energy.
"Thank you," she said slowly, drawing back. The amused expression and the raised eyebrow were gone, and had been replaced with a storm in his grey gaze and a longing in his features.
"That," he said, "was more than enough payment for the book. Now you're definitely keeping it."
She smiled coyly at him, and allowed him to take her by the hand and lead her out of the library. "How do I get back here from my room?" she asked, looking over her shoulder wistfully at the stacks of volumes.
"That depends which room you want to sleep in," Draco said musingly. "We have about five which might suit you, and that are currently prepared for guests."
"I'll take whichever is closest to you," Hermione said instantly.
"Great, so you'll sleep in my bed," Draco responded, and she hit him lightly on the shoulder.
"Shame on you, Mr. Malfoy, trying to take advantage of me when I'm homeless."
"Well, if you're sure, you can sleep in the one next door then," he said with a grin, "it used to be my childhood bedroom until Father was locked up and I took over the master bedroom."
"Oh, I don't know if I want that one then," Hermione joked. "I might catch Snobby Ferret syndrome."
Draco elbowed her and she laughed. They walked up the great, grand staircase in the main hallway and round the balcony to the left, where Draco showed her down another corridor. The entire Manor had been redecorated since the War, Hermione noticed, with the old family portraits disappeared from the walls and the lingering sense of Dark magic in the air dissipated.
"I like it better now," she commented, and Draco raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. Well, after everything...it needed a change. Most of it is Mother's design," he gestured at the walls, and tapped his foot on the new wooden floorboards. "But I have to say; I like it better now too."
Finally, they made a turn at the end of the corridor and another hallway opened up before them.
"This is the West Wing," Draco announced. "This is where all the family bedrooms are."
He led her over to the leftmost door and opened it. "This is your room."
She stepped inside, amazed at the size of it. There was a huge four-poster bed at the back of the room, highlighted by a large open floor-to-ceiling window which looked out over the Manor's grounds. A desk and chair occupied the right-hand side, and on the left was another door which she opened to find a bathroom suite complete with both a corner bath and shower. She stood in wonderment, turning round and gaping at its proportions. Hints of Draco's school days were still there; textbooks stacked on a bookcase, Quidditch posters adorning the walls and his old school robes, hung neatly on a rail by the fitted wardrobe.
"This was your childhood room," she repeated. "Merlin only knows how big the master room is."
Draco chuckled at her obvious amazement. "One of the perks of being born a Malfoy. Not that there are many of them, anymore, so I try to enjoy the ones I have."
"Well, I for one am glad you were born a Malfoy," Hermione said. "If only because now I get to sleep on this gorgeous bed." She fell back into the sheets in ecstasy, feeling the silky cloth between her fingers.
"Glad to provide you with such a service," Draco said wryly. "I'll leave you to it then. If you need anything, Mimsy is at your disposal, and I'm just next door to the right if you change your mind about which room you want." He winked.
"Thank you, Draco," Hermione said seriously, sitting up and looking him in the face. "For everything. I mean it. Thanks."
"My pleasure," Draco said sincerely, and with a parting smile, bowed out of the room. Hermione fell back onto the sheets again, reveling in the silkiness and comfort, unwilling to ever get up again.
It occurred to her that she had no pyjamas with her. Suddenly, she started laughing; the full absurdity of her situation hit her, coupled with the shock from earlier. She was homeless, and she had no possessions to speak of apart from her purse, her cat and her wand; she was sleeping at Malfoy Manor for an indeterminate amount of time until she got back on her feet; and she had no pyjamas. Her laughter graduated into hysterics, and she rolled about on the bed, unable to stop.
Finally, the pangs of laughter died down, and she sat up, her sides hurting. She had no idea what she found so funny, other than the absolute ridiculousness of her situation. How had she even ended up here? She could barely keep track of all the emotional upheavals she had experienced recently, and she thanked Merlin that she was so mentally acute, or she might have gone round the twist. Of course, it was also the result of her work keeping her focused, and Ginny, Harry and Draco, without whom she was sure she'd have lost it by now.
Still, she thought as she snuggled into the huge bed, pulled the covers around her and opened the first page of Hogwarts: a History, it could only get better from here.
The next day, she awoke to the smell of food. The delicious scent made her sit up and rub her eyes, the light from the window pouring in behind her head and warming the entire room. She marvelled that Draco had lived in this room the whole time he had grown up; she had always imagined his room to be dark and low-ceilinged like the Slytherin dungeons. She couldn't have been more wrong.
"Morning," a voice said, and she looked up to see Draco grinning at her from the doorway. He wore a long, dark green silk dressing gown with 'DLM' inscribed on the pocket, which was tied low enough to expose his chest. Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat as her imagination ran wild with what might be underneath the rest of that gown, but she managed to evade his notice as she smiled back.
"I had Mimsy make us breakfast. I thought we could eat together," he explained, kicking open the door to reveal a beaming house-elf proudly carrying a tray of beautifully cooked food.
"Thank you, Mimsy," Hermione said kindly, slipping out of bed and walking over to relieve the elf of its burden.
"Mistress is welcome," Mimsy replied, and bowed, then scurried off down the hall.
"Mimsy seems happier than Dobby," Hermione noted. "I'm glad the Malfoy elves are in your hands now and not your father's."
"Agreed," Draco said with a flash of sadness in his eyes. "I used to hate watching them punish themselves. Since I've been master of the Manor, none of them has ever had a scratch, and they're all well cared for. Mimsy is my elf, and my mother's is called Dinky. We've also got a few cleaning elves, but they don't make much of an appearance during the day."
Hermione was fascinated by Draco's story, and glad that at least one of the things she had fought for when she was young had started to actually happen. Even if they still refused pay and clothes, at least they were happy, and well looked after.
"So where are we going to eat this?" she asked, hefting the tray.
"I thought we could have it on the balcony," Draco answered, and led her back towards her bed. She followed him curiously, and suddenly noticed that what she had taken for a floor-to-ceiling window was actually a large glass door, which opened onto a veranda. There was an iron table and two chairs next to the stone rail, and a beautiful view of the expansive gardens that accompanied Malfoy Manor.
"Wow," she said, stepping out into the warm August morning. "I didn't even know this was here."
"You think the young Draco Malfoy could have survived without such a luxury?" Draco said in mock astonishment. "His Father would never have heard the end of it."
Hermione giggled and sat down at the table, putting the tray down. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation but she didn't know where to start; there were eggs, bacon, toast, sausages, beans, waffles, scones, muffins and rolls, along with a large pitcher of orange juice and a pot of tea.
"This must have taken Mimsy ages," Hermoine said, surveying the food before her.
"Remember elves are magical," Draco reminded her. "He didn't make it all by hand."
Still not fully convinced, Hermione took a plate and began to pile some food onto it. Draco sat opposite her and did the same; she noticed that he took a lot of bacon, and smirked.
"What?" he asked, noticing her expression.
"You haven't changed since Hogwarts," she laughed, "you always used to take all the bacon at the Slytherin table too."
"Not ALL of it," he defended, piling more strips onto his plate. "Besides, what's wrong with bacon?"
"Nothing. But there's something wrong with being a greedy git," Hermione said, grinning as she took one of the pieces of bacon from his plate and put it on hers. He nudged her in retaliation and nearly made her fall off the chair; she grabbed hold of the edge of the table just in time and righted herself. "If you were anyone else, I'd have you for that," he muttered.
"Good job I'm me, then," Hermione grinned. She was taking liberties, she knew, but it was difficult not to feel completely comfortable with Draco around, and laugh and play like she would do with Harry or Ginny, and she had an inkling he felt the same way. He eyed her over his plate and cupped it defensively, exactly the way she used to do when she took exams, and she laughed. "Baby."
They finished breakfast and relaxed on the veranda in the warm sun. "Don't you have work?" Hermione asked him.
"I'm working from home at the moment, actually," he replied, his eyes shut as he soaked up the heat, his body slumped back into the chair in total chilled-out mode.
"Yes, I can see you're working very hard," she teased, and he opened one eye and looked at her.
"I'm an inventor. My brain never stops working. I'm dreaming up new potions, I'll have you know," he said, closing his eye again and settling back into his state of repose.
"You never did tell me what your big new potion was," Hermione suddenly remembered. "You were going to talk about it at Harry's party, before...well, everything."
"Oh yes, I forgot you didn't know yet," Draco said, sitting up and taking on an aura of excitement. "Well, I finished the drafting stage and the safety committee approved it. I handed it up to marketing and they were so intrigued they had the manufacturing department get testing it right away; and it works. They'll be rolling it out in stores worldwide next month. It's going to change everything, Hermione - I might be famous for it."
"What does it DO?" Hermione asked eagerly, pleased for his success.
"It's a genetic enhancement potion," Draco said. Her face fell slightly. "Don't worry - I don't mean one of those cheap, disgusting ones that make witches look prettier. No. Hermione, this potion attaches itself to a suppressed magical gene and unlocks its power."
"So..." Hermione was working it out in her head. She thought she knew what he meant, and if he did, it would be the biggest major breakthrough of the century.
"Squibs can be cured," Draco announced proudly. "Anyone born to a magical family without magic will have the gene, and this potion will enable it. No more Squibs. Children with weak magical signatures can be strengthened enough to be sent to school. Hundreds - maybe thousands - more wizards and witches, Hermione, previously not magical enough to be registered, who can be helped, and schooled, and brought into our world."
Hermione couldn't believe it. The repercussions of this potion would be felt all over the Wizarding World. This would go down in history.
"I can't believe you've done it," she whispered. "People have been trying to cure Squibs for centuries. Think about what this will mean to people - people like Filch - who will finally feel like they belong in the world they were born to. How did you do it?"
"Meticulous research and a lot of trial and error," Draco said, "but eventually, finally, I made it work. This is going to make my company huge. Maybe even bigger than Malfoy Enterprises used to be, before it all went into administration."
"What's happening to your father's company?" Hermione suddenly interjected. It was something she had been wondering about.
"They're currently processing all the bureaucracy," Draco replied, looking agitated. "It's still in Lucius's name, so I can't do anything with it yet. But since he hasn't died, legislation is tricky concerning passing the ownership on without consent. He's in Azkaban, so no legal consent can be given. It's all tied up in red tape. But they're getting through it slowly, and hopefully I should be able to take over by the end of the year and bring Malfoy Enterprises back up to scratch."
"This is so wonderful," Hermione said, admiration brimming into her voice. "I knew you were a spectacular Potions student, despite my jokes about Snape giving you marks - you were even better than me - but Merlin, Draco! You're going to go down in history for this!"
"It's rather exciting, isn't it?" Draco allowed a smug smile to cross his face. "Don't say anything yet, though. They're going to have an announcement and launch party in early September, and it'll all come out to the media then. For now, it's still under wraps. Not even Mother knows."
"Thank you for telling me," she said quietly.
"Of course," Draco looked puzzled at the thought. "I tell you about all my potions."
She was honoured that he didn't even think twice about trusting her with such a secret, and that she had been the only one he had shared it with. He hadn't even told Narcissa yet. She reached across the table and took his hand, squeezing it gently, and he squeezed back.
"I can't wait to call you mine," he said quietly.
"Me neither," she replied. "But we can't; not yet. Give everything time to settle, and I promise, once we're together the wait will have been worth it."
"Nothing's worth being away from you," he replied, startling her with his sincerity, and she leaned across the table to kiss him lightly, the simple connection of their lips never failing to electrify her. He moved in to her, and the kiss deepened, sexual tension sparking between them. He caressed her face as she ran her fingers in his hair, until with a pained groan he broke away from her.
"Nope," he said, "no, I just got rid of my morning wood, you're not going to bring it back unless you're going to help me deal with it."
She burst into laughter, and in spite of himself he grinned too. "Soon enough, I promise," she said.
"You better mean it," he whispered, trying his best to sound low and dangerous. "You can't promise something like that to a Malfoy man unless you plan to follow through."
"Believe me," Hermione said in a seductive voice, leaning closer to him again, "I intend to."
"You little vixen," he growled, and grabbed her to kiss her again. Before they could get too carried away, though, someone cleared their throat behind them.
"Sorry, am I interrupting?" Narcissa asked, looking from one to the other with exactly the same amused expression and quirked eyebrow as her son. Hermione flamed red with embarrassment, but Draco simply looked back at his mother as if nothing were amiss.
"No, Mother, not at all," Draco said smoothly. "We were just finishing, actually."
"I see. Well, I thought I'd bring Hermione some clothes, since she doesn't have any, and ask her if she was ready to go shopping."
"Yes, Narcissa, thank you, it's very kind of you to bring me some clothes," Hermione said, still avoiding eye contact. "I'll just hop in the shower and we can be on our way."
"Lovely, dear. Draco, don't you have some work to be getting on with?" Narcissa asked pointedly.
"Yes," Draco said, then shifted uncomfortably. "Just - give me a minute to...er...enjoy the sun."
Hermione giggled again, then got up and went inside to search out the clothes Narcissa had brought her. Narcissa simply looked exasperatedly at her son, then followed suit and left him to his devices on the balcony. "I'll be waiting for you in the main entrance hall," Narcissa said kindly. "I hope you like what I brought you - they were mine when I was your age, but I know fashions have changed and they might not be to your taste. Don't feel embarrassed if you don't like them, just say so."
"No, they're beautiful," Hermione said, and she meant it. Narcissa had brought her a flowing top and black skirt, not what she would usually have picked, but the silk fabrics were woven together so intricately that the material felt like water in her hands. "This is lovely, Narcissa, thank you. I'll be down in ten minutes."
"Of course, dear. Draco!"
"Yes, coming Mother," a male voice muttered, and he appeared from the veranda, pulling the door shut behind him, his dressing gown looking decidedly more dishevelled than earlier. "I'll be at the Manor all day working, if either of you ladies need me just send me an owl. Right, I need to find some clothes."
With as much dignity as he could muster, he drew himself up to his full height and strode out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Hermione and Narcissa exchanged a look. "Men," Narcissa said in an exasperated tone, and Hermione nodded in agreement, meeting her eye for the first time that morning. The Malfoy matriarch smiled at her reassuringly, before leaving Hermione to her shower.