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CHAPTER 3: Seven Devils
"You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view... until you climb into his skin and walk around in it."
-To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
.
.
Two and a half days.
Two and a half days since Voldemort won the war.
Two and a half days since Lucius decided to show his sorry arse at the Malfoy manor.
Two and a half days since Granger woke up.
Things were hovering in an anticlimactic standstill that was becoming utterly depressing to Draco. But like most things in his life, there wasn't much he could really do about it.
He tapped his fingers impatiently against the cold, grey marble of the massive dinning room table.
He was sitting alone.
The fifteen empty chairs of the unnecessarily large table seemed to mock him with the false promise of company. But he was sure that no one was coming.
The Dark Lord relocated his headquarters to Hogwarts, which in some ways was a good thing because the thousands of unwelcome houseguests weren't around to pester him, but even they never stopped him from feeling lonely. Lonelier than he liked to admit.
He couldn't understand why, but through all of this, the person he felt the most upset with was Granger.
He was not sure exactly what he expected from her, or how he imagined her to behave, regarding the …circumstances, but there was something that stirred in his chest when he thought about the fact that she had been sleeping for the past two and a half days, refusing to wake up or talk to him. It didn't really make sense why he was so upset about it, but he just was.
He tried to convince himself that he wanted her awake because he needed to discuss with her how they were going to go about their complicated predicament, but deep inside he knew there was an underlying reason that he wanted her to wake from her seemingly endless post-battle slumber.
Maybe it was because he felt the need to put all of the complicated frustrations he was currently feeling on another living being, preferably one that was such an easy target. And with Granger, he had a history burdening her with his unwanted …emotions, for lack of a better word. At Hogwarts, whenever things became frustrating or anger-provoking in his own life, he sometimes found himself seeking out the bushy-haired Gryffindor for a quick row or sharp exchange of insults. Though he had been raised to believe it was completely insane to actively seek anything from someone of such blood status, there were times at Hogwarts when the irrational urge to attack the mudblood with an angry continuous string of insults became so overwhelming that Draco had to head back to the Slytherin dungeons early some nights to avoid searching the halls frantically for the Golden Trio.
But even if he was making her life miserable, it didn't matter because at the end of the day she was still a fucking Mudblood; thus, she deserved every insult he, or any of his former cronies threw her way.
That was probably why he had been fuming the past few days. The thought of her being so close and yet he was not able to yell at her for the results of the battle, or about anything at all made him beyond furious.
Fuck her…
The princess of the Golden Trio was entitled to get her fucking beauty rest while he sat around fruitlessly battling his demons. It wasn't fair.
Didn't she understand the seriousness of the situation Voldemort had put them in?
Didn't she get that both of them were in this shit hole together?
But fuming was as far as he was willing to go. There was no way in hell he was going to enter the guest bedroom across the hall and try to wake her up.
Even his mother sent the bloody house elf in once or twice to confirm that Granger was still breathing in her sleep, yet the proud blonde witch had no intentions of entering the room herself.
Draco continued drumming his fingers against the table, as his mother walked in.
"Merlin, Draco! I didn't see you there," a pacing Narcissa exclaimed, throwing her hand over her chest, when she finally noticed him sitting at the table in isolation.
He nodded at her curtly yet didn't move his gaze.
"Well, I've been meaning to speak with you," she continued awkwardly, sensing her son's standoffish mood. "About the girl."
He turned his head sharply to look at her.
"What about her?" he asked harshly, trying unsuccessfully to make it sound as if he wasn't just thinking about her seconds before.
"Well," Narcissa started, attempting to remain poised as she fumbled into the dinning room chair directly across from him. "I think I've come up with something so that you can avoid having to…interact with her in the way the Dark Lord is expecting you to."
He was listening now.
"We can use a Confundus charm on her, if she ever gets up," he said under his breath, disguising his smirk with a twitch of his lips.
"No Draco," Narcissa sighed. He had never seen her look this tired in his life. "Though that would be incredibly convenient for all of us, I have a more plausible solution. We are going to convince the girl to tell the Dark Lord that you are doing what he is asking of you-"
"How the fuck-"
"Listen" Narcissa interrupted. "We get her to tell the Dark Lord what he wants to hear, that way you don't have to touch her, but you can still avoid his displeasure-"
"Right, so basically we go up to the mudblood, who absolutely hates me mind you, and say, 'Hey there, Granger! I know you hate me, and I hate you, but since the Dark Lord, who you and your dead mates have been trying to stop for the past seven fucking years, says I've got to shag you or die, do you mind telling him a little lie about our relationship so you can save my arse? Maybe tell him that I forced you a couple of times? Just for kicks? Don't worry little mudblood, you'll be dead soon enough so it doesn't even matter-"
"Draco-"
"No! Please mother, she has corrupt blood, not a corrupt mind. That will never work with her. She will never lie on my behalf! And not to the Dark Lord either. What reason does she have to help me?"
"Maybe if you gave her a reason –"
Draco let out a terse laugh that resembled a bark. "Right, mother. The only things I can imagine doing to possibly make her change her mind about me, are if I apologized for being truthful to her about how unclean her blood is after all these years, helped her put the sodding Order back together, or brought the wanker trio back to life. Anyway, what don't you understand about her having nothing to gain from lying for us? She is most likely upstairs in the guestroom right now, making a calendar of how long she has left on Earth. I know how this bitch is- she probably doesn't even have the capacity to lie. And like I said before, she has no reason to lie for me of all sodding people!"
He felt himself growing hot with rage, but recoiled slightly when he saw the dejected look on his mother's beautiful face. Regardless of how passionate he got on certain matters, seeing his mother hurt made a part of him, albeit a small part, settle down in uneasy shame.
"Well," he started again in a low, impatient voice. "What exactly is your mighty plan to bring her to understanding?"
There was a crisp silence between the two wizards.
Narcissa eyed her son apprehensively, no doubt trying to gauge how steadfastly he was to listening to her plan.
"I think we should take care of the girl."
"What exactly do you mean by 'take care-"
"I just think we have to wait a while, naturally, before we ask her to do anything for you, but we can start with gaining her trust in the next few weeks by making sure she eats, sleeps properly, goes for a bath, and doesn't go mental in here."
"Well obviously, we can't deprive her of basic necessities and kill her when the Dark Lord made it fairly clear that he wants her all in one … damaged piece," Draco retorted, averting his gaze and staring at his fingers.
"Another large part, I believe, of getting her to trust you is you being civil to her-"
"What the fuck do you mean by 'civil'?"
"Well, I am well aware that your relationship at Hogwarts was, choppy, to say the least, but what better way to get her to change her opinion of you than to treat her without disdain; meaning no arguments, quarrels, or insults-"
"Impossible," he said firmly, shaking his head.
"No, not impossible, Draco. Even if that means me dealing with her and you sitting back and keeping your mouth shut. She will eventually notice your civility, then all we have to do is frame her elaborating the details of your relationship as a win-win-situation for both of you, and before you know it, she is off to be slaughtered."
"So, dare I ask, how exactly are supposed to 'frame her elaborating the details of our relationship as a win-win situation?"
"Well," Narcissa started, avoiding his grey eyes. "I doubt that she will be ecstatic to have any sort of relationship with you at all, and less ecstatic to be any man's property, so to speak, and she will eagerly pounce on any opportunity to avoid degradation by your hands. But only after you prove to her that you don't despise her well-"
"Oh, that is just simply marvelous because I do despise her well-being with every fiber of my body, and if the war was any indication-"
"Well then," she interrupted. "I might be speaking to deaf ears when I say this last piece, but I think I will try anyways. I know what is stopping you. All you see is the know-it-all mudblood bitch. To get her to trust you, and eventually lie on your behalf, you have to see her as a girl who just lost everything. In a few short days, she's lost her school, her best friends, her cause, and her entire life. If you treat her like a person who has been broken, you might be able to gain her empathy and eventually her trust."
Narcissa's words left an uncomfortably candid feeling in the air of the large room.
Never in his life had he heard his mother say such straightforward words about someone hailing from a lower blood status, and yet sound so sincere.
Much like the effects of Dumbledore's last words on the blond wizard, he realized that his mother's comments about Granger would stick in his mind long after the conversation was over.
…You have to see her as a girl who just lost everything. In a few short days, she's lost her school, her best friends, her cause, and her entire life… She is broken.
Perhaps they were just words. Perhaps they were more than that.
Draco sighed.
"It seems simple enough to me," Narcissa said, trying to hide her triumphant Malfoy smirk after sensing her son's waning resistance. "When she gets up, we treat her like a house guest, attend to what she needs and make it clear that there will be no 'unwanted relations' for now. And you will be a gentleman. The word 'mudblood' nor any other derogatory label will escape your mouth for the time being. "
"Merlin mother, all this sounds more like a command than a mutual agreement," Draco said sarcastically as he begun to stand up.
"Take it as you will."
.
.
Lucius Malfoy stumbled out of the fireplace and into the Malfoy Manor's parlor three hours later.
He looked terrible.
Soot and dust covered his face and twisted thoroughly into his long white hair. He looked exhausted and his breath smelled suspiciously of Ogden's Old Firewhisky.
"You should have stayed where you were. You should not have come back," Narcissa said coldly, not bothering to look up from her propaganda filled copy of the Daily Prophet. According to Rita Seeker, the Dark Lord's reign was going just swimmingly.
Draco, who was sitting in front of the parlor's massive organ, looked up and snarled at his father.
"Well I see you two are happy to see me," Lucius said sarcastically, attempting to straighten out his disheveled robes. "Don't worry Narcissa, I received your owl the other day and I am more than happy to agree with your terms. Its not like I'm interested in being around all of this embarrassing commotion anyways."
Draco turned to his mother.
What owl?
"You always were worried about appearances. And I am sure out there, our family looks like fools; a psycho dead in the war, an over-bearing mother who constantly tries to wipe her son's arse, two hapless and unreliable Death Eaters, and a son who is assigned to rape a muggle-born girl. I can completely understand why being part of this family is no longer of use to you, " Narcissa replied, trying very hard to keep her voice steady. Amazingly, she did not look up from the paper.
"You're leaving us?" Draco demanded, standing up so quickly that the organ's chair fell over and hit the silver tiles with a loud 'clank'.
"I'm not here to speak to you, I'm here for Draco," Lucius said, still addressing his wife.
"I'm here right now! Speak!"
"In private," said Lucius, giving the younger wizard an unfamiliar look and motioned with his cane-free hand for him to accompany him into the sunroom.
Draco angrily followed behind him, reaching the room first due to his long stride.
He stormed in front of his father, and for the first time in a long time, they were eye to eye.
"What the fuck is she talking about? 'This family is no longer of use to you-"
"Never mind that now Draco, we haven't got time," Lucius began frantically rummaging through his robes until he eventually pulled out a tiny vial filled with a rosy pink liquid.
"You're leaving my mum and you-"
"Shut up boy and listen!" Lucius roared suddenly, holding the vial up to Draco's face.
Draco straightened his spine and stared directly at his father.
What was he playing at?
After everything Narcissa did for him, he was just…leaving. Especially now, when all this was happening with Granger…
"This potion is called Osculum Diaboli. Do you see it?"
"Well obviously Lucius. Its in my fucking face-"
"No cheek today boy, just listen. Your mother should be kicking me out any minute now," his father continued, lowering the vial.
Draco had to bite on his tongue hard to keep himself from interrupting him again.
"This potion induces sexual desire, do you understand? Any person who drinks this potion will become extremely sexually driven to fornicate with the wizard or witch who slips it to them for a number of hours."
Draco blinked in response and opened his mouth to spit out a retort, but Lucius carried on in a hurried whisper.
"If things don't go as planned with the mudblood, you slip her two drops of this potion into her drink and all the Dark Lord's wishes come true. I know that you are not capable of that kind of violence-"
"You have no idea what I'm capable of-"
"Right," Lucius interjected sarcastically. "I'm just trying to do what your poor mother is probably attempting right now- saving your arse. There is no way you can get away with not sleeping with the girl, so better she have the desire, than for you to do something that you regret."
"Well this is lovely and all, and the thought of Granger willingly bedding me gives me butterflies, but I'm sorry to inform you that we already have a plan that makes a lot more sense and doesn't involve me laying a hand on her," the younger wizard announced, taking a step back.
His father rolled his eyes, and shoved the vial into Draco's unwilling hand.
"Whatever helps you two sleep at night," he said glancing nervously over his shoulder. "When your little plan falls through, at least you have back up. I don't think you understand how serious the Dark Lord is about this girl's punishment. If she isn't punished, then you will be. "
His words hung in the air as silence seeped in.
Draco tightened his hand around the vile. For some reason, he didn't try to give it back to Lucius.
"Don't tell anyone else about this," he whispered. And without a goodbye, he disappeared into the dark hallway.
Draco didn't even have time to process what just happened, because minutes after his father stormed away, the infuriating house elf came into the sunroom with a message.
Granger was awake.
.
.
Some say that pain gets better with time, but in this case, things seemed to work in reverse. Her first few days awake in the Malfoy manor were like the calm before the storm, the silence before the end of the world, a haunting whisper that came before a beautiful unraveling.
It freighted Draco to his core.
Her silence. Her solitude. Her distance.
Maybe his mother was right. Maybe Granger was indeed broken.
She sat mutely at the head of the table, where his father used to sit, and stared at the place set before her. She was still wearing the pants, jacket and jumper she wore during the battle. Blood and dirt matted her pale face and the back of her jeans.
She looked awful.
She appeared sub-human almost, as if the old Granger had been dug out from underneath her skull and the only thing remaining was the shattered pieces.
Broken.
She did not respond to Narcissa's attempts to converse with her, and she didn't look at Draco at all. There was no way to even tell if she knew about Voldemort's plan. She didn't seem to even desire to be awake.
"Are you hungry?" the older witch asked Granger nervously.
Draco stood leaning against the doorframe watching the two women from the darkness of the hallway.
Granger's face did not shift from its blank expression. The palm of her right hand was flat against the table. She was slowly picking it up and observing the moist outline of her fingers on the black marble.
She would place her hand firmly against the table, lift it up slowly and stare at her sweat stain until it disappeared. Then she would do it again. It was like a child learning to walk and becoming preoccupied with the seemingly uncomplicated task.
It was as if she was learning what life was all over again.
"Maybe some toast, would you like that?" his mother asked attempting to keep her voice steady for the second time that day. It was like talking to someone who was deaf. Granger made no indication that she even heard her speak.
"Sonny!" Narcissa called.
The Malfoy's family house-elf, Sonny (Dobby's replacement) appeared in the dinning room.
"Get her something to eat," she commanded the creature, flinging Granger's still profile a weary look.
If he thought seeing Hermione's bloodshot eyes after she woke up was haunting, watching the elf cut her food into little pieces and slowly place them into her mouth was somewhere beyond that.
Granger chewed and swallowed each piece slowly as if she was simply twitching her jaw, not focused on eating at all. She did not look at the elf or the plate, she just continued pressing her palm to the table and lifting it up.
But he did not speak a word.
Draco's thoughts drifted to his fourth year at Hogwarts, when she started her annoying program, S.P.A.W.N or whatever, to save the house-elves. The irritating Granger he knew would protest the enslavement of the stupid creatures at every opportunity. She didn't say a thing about the elf that was slowly prying oven her jaw and fluttering pieces of buttered toast into it. The irony of the entire situation was almost comical. Almost.
Narcissa left the room after awhile, and on her way out, she gave Draco a look that indicated now would be a good time to try getting on Granger's good side.
He sighed in protest before whispering sharply, "This isn't over yet. You have some explaining to do about what happened today with Lucius."
She nodded.
Draco felt awkward as he walked out of the shadows and into the low, eerie green light of the dinning room. He stood directly across the table from where she was sitting.
His face suddenly began growing hot with unexplainable embarrassment. All the anger he felt towards her earlier while he was sitting at that very table seemed to evaporate when he looked at her. Certainly, if they were both at Hogwarts he would have yelled at her, but things were so different now. He could feel the change in the air and see it on her emotionless face. Insulting her now was out of the question. Plus, he had his mother's plan to think of.
"Granger," he said quietly. It was a statement. A noun, a word spoken into the dimly lit room that meant nothing. He was not asking her a question. He didn't want anything. He just said her name.
To his surprise, she flinched at the sound of his voice.
Ahh…now they were getting somewhere.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his black trousers. So she had heard the conversation between the Dark Lord and the Malfoys while she was levitated. Maybe she thought that Draco was going to hurt her.
Apart from the flinch, she made no other indication that she even noticed his existence because she still didn't turn her brown eyes to him. Rather she continued observing the fading moist outline of her slim fingers on the cold marble.
"I…errr…I think you…maybe it is better if I could…" Merlin, he was a bumbling twat.
What the fuck was he going to say to her?
Words were not enough.
So instead he sat down. They were directly across from each other, yet on different planets.
He sat there with her, watching her eat slowly and ignore his presence with extreme concentration. He did it on the first day, the second and the third day after she woke up.
Draco realized that for the two days she was asleep and during the three days she was awake, Granger hadn't bathed, brushed her teeth or even changed her clothes.
The elf would feed her and Draco would sit directly across from her, observing her blank, hopeless face.
Every moment he sat with her, all his urges to insult her for her blood and stupidity seemed to fizzle into the dry manor air. Of course, his prejudices were still inside of him, pacing under his skin, making up the very fabric that held his being together, but for that hour each day, he kept them to himself.
.
.
Later that third night, his mother cornered him en route to his bedroom.
"I've been meaning to talk to you, I think that its time that she had a bath-"
"Why are you telling me this? That has nothing to do with-"
"Draco-"
"Get the bloody house elf to do it, she's the only one she somewhat acknowledges-"
"Obviously, the elf can assist her if that is necessary, but I think that you need to be the one to talk her into it, since she hasn't done it on her own accord so far. Seriously Draco, she has been wearing the same clothes from the first day. They are filthy and she is beginning to smell…unpleasant, to say the least."
"Why me?" Draco asked, silently cursing Salazar Slytherin for putting him in this predicament.
I have to spend my time convincing depressed, mute Granger to go for a bath? If this is what the goddamn world has come to, maybe the Order was better off winning the war.
Draco pushed the thought away swiftly and chided himself for being stupid enough to even consider such an absurd idea.
"Because, remember," Narcissa started, lowering her voice to a sharp whisper. "We are trying to get on her good side-"
"Right now she doesn't exactly have a 'good side', she's just a bag of bones."
"That shouldn't be so unfamiliar to you then."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Narcissa ignored his question with a tilt of her head.
"She is in mourning and doesn't know what to do with herself. Mark my words, when she snaps out of it, she will be a completely different person."
She started to walk away but Draco stopped her by grabbing her forearm.
"What do you mean by the feeling being "unfamiliar" to me?"
She looked directly at him.
"Last year, I think you also wanted someone to reach out to you, but you didn't know how to go about asking for it."
.
.
Draco clenched his fist for the fifth time in a pre-knock stance.
Merlin, he was acting like such a wanker.
The fear that started growing in his chest when he approached Granger's door was nonsensical.
Why was he so afraid to talk to her?
It wasn't like she was even going to talk back. Just sit there and look lost.
He lowered his hand and pressed his forehead against the center of the guest bedroom door, shutting his eyes.
Why did she always have to be so difficult? Why couldn't she see that they all lost something in the war?
The war resulted in the murder of many of his Slytherin friends and not to mention all the current drama with his father.
Why did Granger always have to make everything about her?
He spent fifteen more pathetic minutes leaning against the door like a mad man before forcing himself to knock lightly.
No reply.
Of course fucking not.
"Alright Granger, I'm coming in, so I hope you're…err…well just be ready for it," he called inanely, pulling the engraved door handle open.
His eyes skimmed the room. There was a small fire waning in the fireplace. Everything else looked untouched, the massive bed was in the same location, and even the bookshelves filled with unreadable ancient magical history volumes looked to be in the same Malfoy-perfect condition they were in before.
If Draco was unsure if she had gone mental, the untouched books acted as a confirmation.
He started to take strides towards the adjourning bathroom, but he tripped over something solid.
It felt like a mini boulder.
"Merlin, fuck!" he cursed loudly, reaching down to grasp his throbbing toes.
When he looked down to see what had rudely constructed his path, he realized that it was in fact not a rock, but Granger herself, curled up in a blue blanket.
She looked pitiful and filthy.
He held back a second profanity when he realized for the first time since she work up three days prior, Granger was looking directly at him.
Something at the bottom of his gut flipped unwillingly at her stare.
She looked almost worried, which was a good change from the numbness.
"Err..hey," he said lamely, pressing his throbbing foot back onto the carpet.
He clumsily squatted before her so that their faces were about a foot apart.
"How are you feeling? I…err… think maybe you need to start doing some things, you know, to get all the stuff off your mind, maybe it could do you some good."
Amazingly, she did not avoid his eyes. Actually, she was starting at him with a look of intrigue mixed with fear.
This new emotion encouraged Draco to go further.
"Yeah, maybe you can start by going for a bath-"
At the word 'bath' her whole demeanor changed instantly.
She shot up and started to move away from him backwards, with a look of absolute fear on her face.
Draco's stomach plummeted and he wrinkled his brow in confusion.
What was she on about?
"I mean it's just a suggestion. You haven't bathed since…you know, and my mum's got robes for you and everything."
The more he spoke, the more terrified she looked. She used the bed for support with standing up and slowly inched to the opposite side of the emerald covered piece of furniture.
She was now on the opposite side of the room as him.
Draco frowned. He was tired of being nice.
"Why are you-" he started, before it hit him. She thought-
Oh Christ no.
"Oh Granger, don't be silly, if I haven't tried anything yet why would I start now?"
Her shoulders slumped slightly, but she still looked fearful.
"I meant you take a bath, on your own."
She lowered her eyes, and a wavy lock of bushy brown hair fell from behind her ear, covering her eye.
Draco swallowed.
"I was just thinking that maybe, after you washed up a bit, you would like to get some fresh air and all, you know, you could walk around the grounds and see around the manor if you like. After all, last time you were here was not so pleas-"
He stopped himself and bit his tongue.
He could really be such an idiot sometimes. Obviously, making a lame joke related to her being tortured by his deceased aunt was stupid. It was like opening up a cage of irritated Cornish Pixies. The incident represented everything that was currently chewing away at her life.
Merlin.
"So, the loo is over there," he nodded to the door. "And my mother left some robes for you in the bathroom. If you need er…assistance or anything, Sonny the house-elf can help you out. When you're done, like I said, maybe you can go for a walk around the grounds."
He felt rather dumb standing there as she started at him in response.
Seconds passed by before she did something so unexpected Draco almost gasped in surprise.
Pushing the springy lock of brown hair behind her ear, she turned away from him and slowly entered the bathroom, letting a small 'click' follow behind her.
.
.
They walked in silence, (as expected) across the Malfoy's lawn, with a reasonable amount of space between them.
Granger kept looking up at the sculptures and trees, her brown eyes taking it all in. She certainly didn't look bored to Draco, but she didn't look cheerful either. Narcissa's robes where too big for her and dragged behind her in the dirt.
"Right, so…err, that's Salazar Slytherin next to the willow tree over there," he instructed, even though he was sure she of all people recognized the sculpture of the haughty looking wizard who stood proudly by the tree. It was, after all, a replica of the very one that was on the grounds of Hogwarts.
He didn't know why he insisted on narrating their pointless little tour, but he did anyways. Though she wasn't responding, he knew, somehow, he was cracking away at her armor. After all, she did concede to bathing, and she followed him outside.
He walked with her aimlessly for about an hour that day. To his astonishment, she did not pace away from him or sit blankly in one spot. She walked with him.
Perhaps it was just her Gryffindor curiosity getting the better of her sprit. Perhaps she was assuaged by Draco's promise that he wouldn't 'try anything'. Perhaps it was the pure fact that the moping was becoming redundant.
Whatever the reason was, he would soon wish for her to go back to being lifeless.
Because when Hermione finally spoke, Draco realized that she was more than aware of the 'situation' they were in, and she was not sad about it at all.
She was fucking pissed off. But that was okay, because he was too.
.
.
A/N: Greetings from West Africa! I'm on vacation right now visiting my crazy family but I wrote this chapter right before I left. When I tried to put it up before I went to the airport, my Internet at home was acting stupid so I thought I was going to have to wait to get home to upload it. But alas! My aunt over here has internet now so as they say over here: Praise God O!
So this is my present to you guys for being awesome and reviewing.
Thanks to 'arosesinnocence' for beta-ing and being patient with me!
And can I just say I love awkward Draco in this chapter? What is the poor guy supposed to do? He doesn't know how to handle her emotions…yet lol.