I don't own Harry Potter. Bleeeh.
AN: More story? More story.
To say that Hermione was disgruntled when she woke up to find Draco gone was far from the truth. She was terrified, to begin with. She spent a full minute trying to remember if he'd been there when she'd woken earlier, and if she'd said anything to him then or not. Once she'd established that was not the case, she immediately got up and wandered all through the house, looking for him and occasionally calling his name. She still didn't panic, though, not until she also couldn't find Lucius. That was when the fear really hit her system.
Calm down, she told herself as she stood in the middle of the hallway, one hand on the wall for support while she caught her breath. It's no big deal. They're just out on the farm somewhere; they can't leave because of the spells, they can't hurt themselves or anyone else; they have to come back here once they get hungry or thirsty… After a couple minutes she managed to get her racing heart under control and stumbled out onto the back porch and down the steps, into the bright sunlight. She drew her sweater closer about her chest; she hadn't changed, had just thrown on a house sweater; and her pajama shorts and camisole now made her feel very exposed. She felt grass prickling her feet and looked down to realize she'd even forgotten shoes in her haste.
She swore and then scanned the yard and the direction of the barn. She didn't see anything right away, but a sound from behind caught her ear. She whirled to see Lucius sitting on the bench he'd occupied the other day; a discontented murmur passing his lips as the wind whipped his hair about his face; and a bee found him extremely interesting. She glared at him for a second before her face relaxed and she crossed her arms.
"Serves you right," she said. "If you want him to go away you'll have to do something about it yourself. You're a grown man."
Then she tossed her hair over her shoulder, turned and marched further out into the yard. From that distance she could see the barn door was slightly open. A few of the horses were even out in the paddock beyond it; she could hear them calling to one another now. Her brow furrowed and she frowned. What was going on? Horses out, barn door open…and then she saw Draco's tall, thin figure move out of the shadow of the doors and head up the trail towards her. His blond hair gleamed nearly white in the sunlight and it was being tossed about as much as his father's, though the effect was quite different.
Hermione felt her movement arrested by the sight as her brain caught up with her eyes. The horses in the fields, the buckets in his hands and basket over his shoulder. His father up and dressed. The blanket she'd draped over him the night before now folded so carefully and laying on the edge of the chair.
Well. Well. She slid her arms tighter across her chest and bit her lip. What did she say? She couldn't question him about leaving the house without her- she had shown him all the ropes earlier in the week, after all. And that was sort of why he was there in the first place. He hadn't, in fact, done anything wrong except make her worry.
She bit down hard enough on her lip to draw blood and swore again. Wiping at her lip, she finally raised a hand at Draco.
"Good morning," she decided to try and to her relief, he smiled at her when he was close enough.
"Morning," he returned cheerfully, if a bit warily. He raised one pail and used his elbow to gesture to the basket at his side, its shoulder strap across his chest. "Ingenious device, this. Saved me some trouble."
"Isn't it," she replied wryly.
"Er, something happen to your lip?" he asked and moved past her, up the porch and to the door. She wiped at her lip again and stared at the blood on her fingers in annoyance.
"Nothing," she said. "Just bit it. Here, I'll get the door-"
She pulled it open for him and he gave her an almost bashful glance as he murmured a thank you in her direction. She nearly bit her lip again.
The world had just gotten to be a very interesting place. Was this the effect of their tête-à-tête the night before? Or did he hope for an earlier release on good behavior, since she was clearly too insane for him to actually want to stay there another second? She shook her head and followed him inside.
"Will your father be alright out there on his own?" she asked as she watched him unload his treasures in the kitchen. Milk into the pitcher in the refrigerator, the rest in the can. Eggs also into their space in the refrigerator. So, he'd actually been paying attention the last few days. That was also a good sign.
"I don't see why not," he replied as he unpacked the last of the eggs. "He was fine when I left him there earlier." Not that it had been easy to leave him there, Draco added silently. It had been damned hard, but he'd done it anyway. After all, Hermione was convinced his father was still in there, still functioning, and Draco had seen it himself on rare occasions. So he'd reasoned that if his dad truly needed help, he would come to long enough to alert somebody.
It still hadn't been easy, though, and he'd looked over his shoulder to where his father sat with every other step he'd taken to the barn. But there comes a time, he'd told himself, that a man has to grow up and leave his parents behind…or at least trust in the spells protecting them. That fact, like it was for Hermione, had been a large deciding factor for him.
Hermione nodded and wandered over to the pantry and pulled out the bread. "How about some French toast?" she asked. "Actually, I don't have any stale bread…or we could have cinnamon on toast, if you like." She continued to chatter as she worked at the counter, quite ignoring his proximity and the fact that even though he hadn't yet shaved and showered that morning, she could still smell the Davidoff all over him. "Thank you, by the way, for taking care of the chores this morning."
"It's what I'm here for," he replied carelessly.
"Still, it was…good of you to take care of it without my having to ask. French or cinnamon and sugar?"
Her back was still to him despite her show of good humor and he knew she was feeling awkward since their conversation. Uncomfortable with his familiarity. At least, that's what he told himself, never realizing she was simply avoiding him seeing the way she was inhaling his smell of cologne, fresh air and horses. Now he answered her in a quiet voice.
"Cinnamon would be nice," he said.
"It'll be waiting for you once you're done cleaning up," she told him, waving a hand over her shoulder.
He took it as a dismissal and backed out the kitchen door and headed up the stairs. Hearing the creaks above her head a moment later, Hermione turned around.
"Draco? But I didn't ask you how you wanted the eggs-"
Her voice dropped off as she spied the egg basket still sitting on the kitchen table. A small bouquet of wildflowers lay next to it, bound with a bit of straw that had clearly come from the newly mucked stalls.
Her breath caught in her throat and she suddenly went to work on the cinnamon toast with a ferocity her bread box had never seen.
Ginny phoned Hermione as soon as she thought it was humanly decent. When Hermione answered somewhat breathlessly, Ginny held the phone away from her ear and stared at it suspiciously. Then she held it back up and demanded Hermione tell her what was the matter.
"Nothing," Hermione replied.
"So you're just out of breath because you're pounding out some bread dough?"
"No, Gin-"
"Ok, then. Beating some eggs."
"Ginny!"
"Beating some men?"
Hermione gasped and Ginny laughed some. "Right, I know. Not funny. Then what's the matter?"
There was a pause and then Hermione whispered, "I'm really not sure I want to say it aloud. It's less real if I pretend it hasn't happened."
Ginny froze. She'd heard those words from her friend before and they never hailed good news.
"Hermione-"
"Oh, lord, nothing terrible has happened. I mean, I hope it's nothing terrible. I think he just got some kind of fancy into his head about me."
"Malfoy?" Ginny's voice was incredulous.
"Well, we talked last night. What I mean is, we, you know. Talked."
Ginny felt less than friendly all of a sudden. "And what, pray tell, did you have to talk about?"
"Oh, for christ- Ginny, I didn't tell him everything. But he was in hiding for a great deal of time and he hadn't kept up with everything and it seemed fair, after he'd told me all about himself-"
"Wait, he told you about- what, are you running therapy for wizards now? First me, now Malfoy. Who's next?"
"Oh, Ginny. It was bound to happen sooner or later, wasn't it? Having that sort of talk. I can hardly avoid it when he lives under my roof and eats my food and I'm giving him Muggle Studies lessons."
Ginny decided she was feeling friendly after all. "That sounds like the best punishment any of that lot could ever be delivered. Can I sign Zabini up for some?"
"Ginny," Hermione said. "Honestly. Now, what was it you wanted to talk about? Lessons for yourself?"
"Oh, no, you don't," Ginny replied. "You still haven't answered my question. What had you in a bother just now? And why is it related to this supposedly therapeutic conversation you had in the dead of night?" Ginny suddenly had a horrifying thought. "Oh, no. Has Draco decided he's in love with you? That he's going to rescue you from your bitter lifestyle?"
Hermione paused again. When she spoke her voice was barely audible. "Lord, I hope not," she said. "No, no. It's nothing like that." But even she didn't sound convinced. Stockholm Syndrome existed, after all.
"No," she said again, forcing confidence into her voice. "But he did leave me a bouquet of wildflowers. It's rather sweet, I suppose. I think he feels bad about what I- what we- went through."
"Most people do once they know the whole story," Ginny replied drolly, but there was no intention of humor behind her words.
"Well, he doesn't know the whole story. And anyway, I know more about him than he does about me. Although I'm working on his father, who is still a closed book in many ways."
"Still comatose?"
"He's not that, exactly," Hermione said and slid the tray of the cinnamon and sugar bread slices into the oven. Then she started in on the eggs and even pulled a tin of kippers out of the pantry. "He's aware, he just chooses not to respond. Or perhaps this state is so natural to him now he has trouble responding? I'm not one hundred percent sure," she said, shaking her head. "I'm going to read through Lucius' file again as soon as I can. But the therapy is promising, I think."
On her end, Ginny wandered across her flat into her kitchen. Zabini was up, had even made a sort of breakfast- which meant he'd laid out the muffins, butter and jam and brewed tea- but he'd holed himself up in his room again. Ginny poked at one of the muffins and contemplated eating it.
"So, dear old Lucius is showing signs of life?"
"He is," Hermione replied. "I know he's in there. And before you say it, yes, I know he did terrible things, once. But he is paying for them. His whole family paid for them. Honestly, Gin, they never even found out who murdered Narcissa-"
"That doesn't make anything he did ok."
"No, but I think it's safe to say he's sorry for it. And it's not like he's going to go on and do anything else. He can't, after all."
"That's true," Ginny grudgingly allowed as she picked at a muffin. "On my end, I finally got Zabini's file. Harry sent it."
"Did he? That's good of him."
"And he…never mind."
Hermione decided to let that one pass. If there was something finally happening between Ginny and Harry, it was not only high time, but Ginny would talk to her about it when she was ready.
"Is there anything that helps you out?" she asked instead.
"Not really," Ginny replied. "Just that he's probably innocent of all charges and aside from being a complete tosser, there's nothing the matter with him."
"Has he tried anything else?"
"No-o," Ginny said, drawing it out thoughtfully. "But you know, he's been acting sort of…funny. Not unlike your Draco," she finished in a teasing voice.
"He's hardly my Draco," Hermione said sharply, no-nonsense once more. She would not allow anybody's feelings to get carried away just because of confidences and wildflowers. Even if the man delivering the wildflowers smelled ridiculously good. He only smells that way because I bought him the products, she reminded herself forcefully. One of the kippers flew off the griddle, she put so much force behind the spatula. She looked down at it morosely, lying on the floor in a small puddle of grease and sighed.
"Lost a pancake?" Ginny asked innocently at the long pause.
"Just a kipper," Hermione said. "Is that all, Ginny?"
"No, it is not all," Ginny retorted. "We were talking about me and my problems, remember?"
"Maybe we could if you'd stop making snide remarks and distracting me," Hermione promptly replied. Ginny laughed.
"Ok, that's fair. Look, yesterday, after Harry left, I…well, at any rate I had a nightmare."
"Oh, Ginny- what were you doing? Drinking in the middle of the day again?"
"Like you've done so much better," Ginny snapped and heard Hermione gasp. She relented some. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I'm just tired and confused."
Hermione didn't say anything at first and Ginny closed her eyes. "Hermione-"
"I know, Gin. You don't have to say anything. But you know, last night I didn't take my pills. I know it's only one night, but…I'm going to do this, Ginny. I won't live like this anymore. Only teaching one class because it takes me a full week to recover from the strain; living alone where the most socializing I do is going to my stylist every two months…I won't let myself do it anymore." She took a breath. "I told Lucius that no one gets to check out. That we're all stuck here with one another, but what have I been doing the last eight years? Barely surviving."
"That's not true," Ginny protested. "You've been amazing, Hermione, and I'm sorry if I never told you that before. You've been doing more than I have, anyway. I really…I don't like that you left us all, but I understand it and I wish I was brave enough to do the same, honestly. To take a chance like that, even if it's in the completely opposite direction of where everyone expects you to go. I always looked up to you, Hermione, and I still do," she finished quietly.
Hermione rather thought she might be in tears in a moment. She beat the eggs a little more ferociously.
"Well," she said. "Well. Thank you, Ginny. That…means a lot. And you- now you'd better tell me what happened with Zabini."
"Right," Ginny said, taking a deep breath and gathering herself. "Like I said, I had a nightmare and when I came to, Zabini was there and ready to help out. He actually tried to help clean up some before I stopped him. And after I'd gone back to my room to sleep it off, I woke up pretty late to find him outside my door, asking if I was alright and telling me he'd made dinner."
"And had he?" Hermione asked, slightly incredulous.
"Yeah, he had," Ginny said. "Soup and sandwiches. And we talked a little longer and he said something really…strange."
"Strange how?"
"Well, he told me he didn't like being here, under me, and that he hated owing me 'this much' and so he'd do his best to never owe me anything else."
Hermione frowned. "In his words?"
"Those were his words, essentially. But I looked at him like he'd gone mental and told him I had no idea what he was talking about and that it was the wizarding world he owed. So then he looked me over and acted sort of confused. And he said, 'You think that, do you?' Which was followed by a, 'You do think that.' And he stalked off after that. But it was extremely confusing. I have the feeling there's something going on with him that's not in his file."
Hermione pursed her lips and began setting the table and dishing out the food. "That does sound suspicious. Are you sure-"
"That I didn't just dream it? I'm positive, Hermione. I may be mental, but I'm hardly lucid when I'm having one of my fits," she joked and Hermione rolled her eyes. "And stop rolling your eyes at me!"
"You can't see me!" Hermione protested and Ginny laughed.
"I know you too well."
"You do," Hermione allowed and then sighed. "Well, what do you want to do about Zabini?"
"Nothing, for now. Maybe I'll find out something else in the next few days. But I had thought…" She paused and Hermione frowned.
"Had thought what? Ginny, promise me you'll be careful-"
"It's nothing like that," Ginny said hastily. "It's just that when he said those things, I'd rather wondered what on earth could possibly have made him feel like he owed me; and if it's a secret, which it certainly seems to be, since he didn't just tell me what it was about; what secret would be big enough that he'd feel like he owed me and also didn't want going in his file? If any of that makes sense," she finished breathlessly.
Hermione caught her meaning immediately and nearly dropped the platter of cinnamon toast. Fortunately, Draco had just arrived back downstairs and he dashed forward to catch it.
"I've got it," he said, taking it from her and Hermione pulled her hands back as if they'd been burned. Draco watched her turn away from him, her face pale, and he knew it wasn't him that had upset her. "What is it?" he asked and she waved a hand at him, telling him to go fetch his father.
"Who's that?" Ginny asked. "Eavesdroppers?"
"Draco just came back in. He's gone back out now to get his dad." Hermione couldn't quell the shaking in her voice. She lowered it drastically. "You honestly think Zabini has something to do with…us?" she whispered, gripping the counter for support.
"I don't know," Ginny replied. "But it's possible. We never knew exactly what happened, ourselves, did we?'
"But we found those bodies…"
"We did," Ginny said, with a shake in her voice to match Hermione's. "But they always wore the cloaks and masks and we never saw what went on outside our cell, did we? It's possible. It may not be very probable, but you have to admit it's possible."
Hermione put a hand to her mouth and tried to think rationally, but it was impossible. "Ginny," she murmured, "will you be alright?"
"I have to be," her friend replied. "I'm sorry I've upset you. Do you need to go?"
"Yes," Hermione said. "Yes, I do. Gin-"
"I understand," Ginny said. "I am sorry. We need to talk again soon, though."
"And Harry," Hermione added. "Harry needs to know. He would have Zabini questioned on your word alone."
"I can't do that yet," Ginny said. "But I will if I can't find anything else out in the next week. I promise. After all, you're right and it could just be my imagination. Maybe he's sorry for all the times he called me a blood traitor, who knows? Either way, I'll be careful."
"Alright. Thank you for calling, Ginny. We will talk soon."
"Cheers," Ginny responded and then hung up. She sat staring at the phone for a few minutes and continued to pick at the muffin before her.
Her head full of questions about the past, she didn't notice Zabini as he quietly moved away from the open doorway and back to his room.
AN: So some of you are on the right track (by now you should know who you are and be feeling quite smug). ;) Anyway, cheers to all my faithful readers. Cookie for me? Pleeeease? This chapter was like, two days in the making! TWO DAYS. *sigh* The things I do for my art.