Thank you my lovely one reviewer, for reviewing this tale! I have written another chapter, perhaps more people will read it :)
I own the typos only.
With shaky hands Hermione accepted the cup of tea that Daphne had offered her. She then sat down gracefully across from her and folded one leg over the other, completely at ease. Daphne waited for Hermione to take a sip of her tea before she smiled at her.
"What brings you here?" Daphne said politely, "Last I heard you were working for the prophet."
"I still am," Hermione said with a nod, "I'm here actually for work."
Daphne's eyes narrowed.
"And what is the prophet going to slander next about the Malfoy name, hm? He's been nothing but quiet all these years and they still send someone after him! I thought you better, Hermione-"
"I'm not here to slander anyone Daphne," Hermione said in defense, "I'm here to hear his view of the war."
Daphne, who had stood up, turned back around to face Hermione. The look on her face was priceless.
"His side?" she gasped, not believing the words Hermione spoke. Hermione nodded.
"Yes," she said, "His side. I've got a few other classmates of ours that were former death eaters but he has a more...personal connection than the rest. I'd like to speak with him, if that's all right."
"You may very well go and speak to him," Daphne sighed, "But if you were to converse with him, well I'm afraid that's not possible."
"What do you mean?"
Daphne looked at Hermione gravely, her eyes darkening from their light emerald to a dark forest green.
"Hermione," she said, "Things are...different since the war. You know that-"
"I understand-"
"Good," Daphne said, "I'm glad you understand that. But you don't understand. Malfoy is... well he is, but he isn't."
"I'm afraid I'm confused," Hermione said, "Are you saying he's sick?"
"Yes," Daphne said, "He is very very ill. So ill he isn't really here."
Hermione's brow furrowed.
"Mentally," Daphne said, sighing, "He's not here mentally. If he were to find out that you were here to write something about him, I think, quite possibly he might break."
Hermione sat quietly in thought. What had happened to him? He was nothing like the man she envisioned, sitting on his pompous arse with a silver crown plopped upon his large head and smirk on his lips. She envisioned him calling her names and throwing her out, laughing as he did so. But now, she hadn't even seen him.
"I'm sorry Hermione," Daphne said, putting a hand on her shoulder. Hermione smiled.
"Maybe I could stick around, just for a while? Observing I mean," she said, "We can tell Malfoy I'm here to become his caretaker. I know a thing or too about being a mediwitch myself."
Daphne puckered her lips. "Well I really do need the time off, Graham would certainly enjoying seeing his family together again..."
Hermione looked at her. "Graham, Montague?" she asked. Daphne smiled.
"Yes," she said, "He's my husband."
Hermione gaped at her. Daphne was so beautiful, and Montague was just so horrid. Even though she hadn't had much contact with him, the man was notorious for getting in trouble. But then again he seemed to have dropped off the radar about 7 years ago, around the same time Malfoy did...
"Con-congratulations," Hermione said, trying to recover her composure. Daphne smiled knowingly and poured herself a cup of tea.
"I know it's not ideal," she began, "But he's actually quite the gentleman-"
"Why doesn't he stay here, with you?"
Daphne smiled and laughed a bit, a bell like laughed at resounded beautifully in the room.
"He did, for a bit, but a few years back things-" She stopped herself and ducked her head. "Forgive me, it's not my story to tell. He and Malfoy are not on good terms any longer."
Hermione looked at her in a puzzled fashion. Nothing seemed to appear as simple as they did. She simply nodded and sipped her tea, just as a very loud sound crashed through the manor, followed by the door flying open and a small blonde girl flying into the room.
"Mummy!" she said, "He's coming to get me!" her voice was panicked and Hermione stood instantly, ready to fight off the attacker. Just then a large man stepped around the corner with a big goofy grin on his face, arms outstretched. He saw Hermione and her stance, wand drawn, ready to fight and stood up straight.
"Hey," he said, "We're just playing."
"I know that!" the little girl cried before breaking out in hysterics. She hardly noticed another person in the room. Hermione, tucked her wand away and straightened herself.
"Yes, well," Hermione said, "No harm done. I'm Her-"
"I know very well who you are," he said, "I'm surprised you don't remember me. Goyle, Gregory Goyle."
Hermione took a step back. Now she remembered him. She didn't recognize him at first in his relaxed clothes and dirt stains, but as she peered harder, the same wide, broad shoulders and chest were there, only more defined-more Viktor Krum and less Harry Potter like.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Goyle said, "I've given up on magic. I can't master it right. Not very smart, I guess. I work here now, taking care of the vines and Ms. Monatgue's daughter as well."
"Well," Hermione said, "It's like a Slytherin gathering." Daphne laughed.
"Sometimes it's worse, when Pansy is here when my sister is h-"
She suddenly stopped talking and adverted her eyes to the floor. "Sometimes Blaise comes around," she whispered, "Though not as often as he did. Malfoy and him were, and still are I think, business partners. But you know, Malfoy just isn't here like he was."
Something fishy is going on here, Hermione thought to herself. The little girl squirmed in her mothers arms and turned around to look at Hermione. Hermione smiled at the girl, her big beautiful browns eyes never leaving Hermione's face.
"Oh," Daphne said, standing up and putting the girl down on the ground, "Katherine this is Hermione Granger, from school."
"The Hermione Granger?" the little girl said in awe. Hermione smiled and squatted down to her level.
"The one and only," she smiled. The little girl's eyes went wide.
"That's so cool!" she shrieked, "I can't wait to tell everyone at school I met the real Hermione Granger! She knows my mummy!"
"Come on Katherine," Goyle said, "Let's go outside and play. I'll teach you how to skip rock on the lake."
"Okay!" she said, and with that the little girl bounded from the room. Goyle followed her out, followed by Daphne and Hermione. Daphne watched them from one of the hallways windows as they skipped back down to the tool barn out by the lake.
"Do you always have her?" Hermione asked. Daphne shook her head and looked at the floor.
"No," she whispered, "I rarely get to see her. This is the first time I've seen her in three months and I don't even get to be with her."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Hermione said. Daphne shook her head.
"It's not your fault. Mine, maybe, this job is just so strange. But then again so is Malfoy."
"So am I what?"
Hermione and Daphne turned to find a narrow man leaning against the bottom of the stairs, staring at them. He was thin, rail thin and dangerously pale. It looked like it took a tremendous amount of work for him to get down the stairs. His steel gaze fell upon them, but just as Daphne had told her, he wasn't there in his own eyes. He used a shaky, black sleeved arm to push off the stairs and come towards them. His clothes looked fair too big on his skinny body, but she guessed it was the small size the had. He stepped onto the carpet and stared at them both.
"Granger," he said, identifying her, "Why are you here?"
"Draco," Daphne said, watching the way he was eyeing her, "Hermione is here to help take care of you."
Malfoy eyed her again for a moment, skeptical, but then slumped down in a chair near the wall. He heaved a big sighed and stared out the window. There was a long awkward silence between them all. Hermione looked at Daphne and Daphne looked at her.
"If you'll excuse me," Hermione said, "But I must send an owl to my...employer," she said, looking at Daphne.
"Yes!" she said, "We will be right back."
Malfoy did not move.
Daphne carefully ushered Hermione down the hall and toward the owlery. When they were safely out of hearing distance, Hermione turned to Daphne.
"He's like that, everyday?"
"Actually today is a good day," Daphne said, "He spoke."
Daphne lead her down another bright hallway before stopping in front of two heavy porch-like doors. Pushing them open it lead to a round, brightly light room, one giant floor to ceiling window bending to wrap around. There was a desk over by the window and a chair with it, the wood stocked high with letters, parchment and quills. In the very center of the room was a tight winding staircase leading upward.
"The owls are above you. Go up the stairs and there will be a door. You just pick any owl to deliver."
Hermione smiled "Thank you."
Daphne nodded and headed out of the room, shutting the doors behind her. Silently, Hermione sat down in front of the desk and gazed out the window. The serene valley gazed back at her, the sun setting over the grass creating a deep hue of red. The vineyards beyond the meadow looked almost purple in the light and beyond that the large mountains looked like beautiful black guardians, watching over the whole valley. Setting her bag down next to her, she pulled out all her notes.
Dear Mr. Harold Gorgine,
I have finally found Mr. Draco Malfoy. He is in a remote location in the muggle world. In light of recent discoveries I would like to submit to you a completed article on the wizarding war. It is attached, proof-read and ready to print.
With that I would like to request another article. I would like to write a column about Mr. Draco Malfoy and how what has happened to him as effect him. For you see Mr. Malfoy is not well and his care taker has informed me that it is a mental illness. I would like to explore the life of one of the most hated wizards in the wizarding world. I would like to make him seem...human. Perhaps you could consider it?
Meanwhile I will still stay here for a while, to do some research and field work. If you need to reach me you can owl me here. There are no floo channels in this place.
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger.
Hermione signed the letter and placed it in the envelope and sealed it up. She scribbled the address across the front and climbed the stairs. Something was horribly wrong here, and Hermione was determined to understand it. What makes Malfoy go from being a pompous arse with his face splashed across every page of every tabloid to this...this shell? Hermione didn't quite understand what would do this to him, but she planned to find out.
Once she had finished in the owerly she headed back the way she came. She was not startled to see that Malfoy was still slumped in the same chair that she left him in. She was surprised though, to see him there. He had heard her approaching but had not said anything, his eyes transfixed on the setting sun. He just sat there, his shallow chest rising and falling. She watched him for a few more moments before coming up and kneeling by the chair. The sun was almost down and Goyle was heading up toward the house with Daphne's daughter in tow. The little girl's lavender dress was smeared with dirt and her white socks where an interesting off white shade. Hermione watched as Goyle swept the girl into his arms and ran with her over his head, her mouth opening and laughing.
"Come on," Hermione said, "I bet the elves have dinner ready."
He didn't speak to her, onyl sat still and blinked. Carefully he moved to stand, and from her position kneeling by the arm of the chair she could hear his bones creak and crack under the pressure of movement. She watched a his thin hand grabbed for the arm of the chair, gripping it harshly.
Hermione did say anything as he moved around her. She hadn't much to say to him. She had her own opinion of him and at a time it was difficult to sway. But now, seeing him and the effort it took to simply stand, Hermione felt her emotions become conflicted.
Malfoy moved slowly and carefully, straightening himself up underneath his black suit and heading towards the dining hall. Hermione watched him for a moment, the way he carried himself still meant he had some self-esteem left. And it hit Hermione like a ton of bricks then. The house in the middle of nowhere, the silence in the media, everything.
He didn't want anyone to see him like this.