He rubbed his temples, wishing to soothe the aching tension that had built in his head. His elbows rested on the mahogany desk and his grey eyes were shut, the intruding light piercing his brain to cause him intense pain. After a few minutes his eyes snapped open and he glanced over the parchment covered in his tall, elegant script. With a soft sigh he picked up his quill and dipped it once more into the inkwell, signing his name at the bottom of the page with a flourish.
Lifting his wand, he carefully charmed the ink dry and skimmed over its contents quickly, ensuring everything was accounted for. When he was certain he had nothing left to write he stood, making his way to his favourite armchair on surprisingly steady legs. He had grown use to wobbling about, glad that others were too concerned with their own affairs to notice his deteriorating health. He was well aware he had little time left.
Reclining in the green chair, he poured himself a glass of Seppelt Para, a guilty and by far his most favoured indulgence. The colour was rich and the flavour even more so. It was one of the few muggle creations he could stand to have in his home, and the only allowed in his study. He lifted the glass to his nose and inhaled deeply. He could almost taste the smell of toffee and chocolate with a hint of fresh fruit, intermingled with the delicate, almost invisible scent of tobacco. His mouth watered slightly at the delectable aroma. Unable to contain himself a moment longer he took a deep sip, relishing the feeling of the silken drink sliding down his throat.
Two pleasurable glasses later his eyelids were drooping, his mind clouded by a dense fog. He rested his head against the back of the chair and took in a deep breath, the glass in his hand unconsciously tilting until a slow trickle of the drink within began to pool on the floor below. By this point he was already fast asleep, his head soon lolling to one side and his mouth parting ever so slightly. Two minutes later his grip slackened, the glass falling to the ground with an almighty smash, the sound not stirring the individual perched in the chair.
At three o'clock in the afternoon, two days out from the new year, Lucius Malfoy died.
Hermione felt a little bit sad as she pottered around her parent's house, packing her clothes. She would be returning to her house after dinner that night so she could settle back into her normal routine before work restarted. She had loved the simplicity of living as a muggle, and not being attacked by messenger owls with notes from her friends.
She loved her friends more than anything, but right now she needed space. She understood their reactions to Draco's presence, but couldn't they trust her judgement? She had proven on several occasions that she was the best decision maker of her friends. She never entered a situation blind. Everything she had ever done was meticulously planned to the last degree, something which she took pride in. She wasn't about to let herself get attacked by Draco Malfoy.
Shaking her head, Hermione tucked her last pair of shoes awkwardly into her bag. Her parents would not be returning for another three days but she felt she had to leave the house immaculately clean, and had consequently spent her visit cleaning things the muggle way and reminiscing on the good times she had spent in this house.
She had just picked up the kettle to put it on for a cup of tea when there was a loud crack and a house elf appeared in the kitchen. She let out a little shriek and the elf looked startled.
"Krackus is not meaning to scare you, Misses!" the elf squeaked. "Krackus has been asked by Lady Cissy to send you to fetch young Master Malfor immediately. She is saying she needs him but Krackus musts be homes with her! Lady Cissy needs Krackus! She is needing her son too, though, right away please." At this point the elf's big eyes filled with tears and Hermione's face fell. "Old Master Malfoy is deads."
"Oh no," Hermione murmured, her eyes beginning to sting. She had never been particularly fond of Lucius Malfoy, but this would be devastating for Narcissa. "Go back to Lady Malfoy, please. I'll fetch Draco."
The elf gave a shaky nod and disappeared with another loud crack. Hermione let out a cough and rubbed at her eyes as she searched for her wand. Checking that everything was still in place she disappeared with a twirl.
Draco woke with a start, sitting up and immediately regretting the action. He promptly fell back again, shutting his eyes against the throbbing light of the outside world. The early afternoon sun was painfully bright and hammered into his skull. Sitting up again, this time slowly, he rubbed his eyes and squinted against the light, finally finding his wand and summoning a hangover cure from his supply in the bathroom.
Downing the vile tasting liquid, he stood and glanced to the clock. Three o'clock. His eyes then turned to Pansy who was a tangle of limbs on the floor, not at all the picture of dignified grace she appeared in public. He let out a low chuckle and bent down, readjusting her limbs and placing a pillow beneath her head.
Looking down at his attire, Draco realized that his shirt was a rumpled mess and his pants were no better, though he should not have expected anything different having slept on the floor all night. There was also the horrid taste of bile and old alcohol in his mouth, something which he needed to rinse out immediately. He decided to shower quickly, scouring off all dirt that had formed on his skin, and then brushed his teeth thoroughly. Twenty minutes later he emerged from the bathroom in jeans and a black sweatshirt, very dressed down by the Malfoy standards.
When he returned to the living room he smirked at Pansy who was writhing around on the floor in pain. She was clutching her head desperately and groaning.
"Hangover cure?" he offered and she moaned once more. He took that as a yes. Helping her into a sitting position he uncorked a vial of the potion and tipped it down her throat. The effect was instantaneous, her eyes snapping open and a grimace forming on her face.
"My mouth tastes like ass."
"Charming, Pansy," he rolled his eyes, standing up. "Go and take a shower. I'll make tea."
She shuffled from the room and a moment later he heard the water start. Knowing full well that she would take at least a half hour bathing and preparing herself, he decided to relax in the solitude for a moment longer. He relished the silence of the afternoon for a while, flipping leisurely through the newspaper, stopping to read articles at random. It was only when twenty five minutes had past did he begin to make the tea, pouring a cup for Pansy (no sugar, skim milk) when she walked through the door.
He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I don't know how you can drink it like that," he said as he added a sugar to his own cup and a splash of full cream milk.
"How else do you expect me to stay skinny?" she asked as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"I don't know, exercise?" he remarked and she snorted, tossing her wet hair over her shoulder. "Why are you in my dressing gown?"
"It's comfortable and I don't know what else to wear."
"Typical."
"Shut up."
A knock on the door interrupted their bickering and Pansy shot him a glare as he left the room, chuckling at their antics. He immediately sobered up when he opened the door to reveal Hermione standing there with red rimmed eyes. He opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong but Pansy's voice cut him off.
"Draco, who is it?"
His best friend, dressed only in his dressing gown and clutching her cup of tea, shuffled into the entryway. Hermione's brown eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in an expression he recognized as anger, something which was very dangerous when combined with Hermione Granger. He started to speak again but this time the muggle born witch cut him off.
"You need to go to the Manor. Now," her lower lip quivered as she spoke and a tear leaked from her eye. "It's your father."
"Wait!" he yelled as she spun on her heel and disapparated with a loud crack. His arm breezed through the empty air where Hermione had been standing a second ago. "Fuck."
"What was that about?" Pansy asked once Draco had slammed the door.
"No fucking clue," he growled, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "I'm going to the Manor. I don't give a fuck what you're doing, but if you do join me, I suggest you change into something a little more proper."
He reached into his pocket and grabbed his wand, squeezing into the tube of apparition before Pansy could say another word. He reappeared outside the gates of Malfoy Manor and broke into a sprint, running up the long drive and bursting through the doors.
"Krackus!" he demanded and there was a pop as a house elf, dressed in a neat suit, appeared immediately. "What the hell is going on?"
"It's Master Malfoy, sirs. He is...he is...," a fat tear rolled down the wrinkled elf's cheek and he broke out into a full wail. "Master Malfoy is deads, sirs!"
Something inside Draco broke. "Where is my mother?" he asked quietly. He felt oddly empty.
"She be in the parlour, young Master," Krackus sniffled and Draco was running again. His feet echoed on the marble floors and he skidded to a halt in the doorway of the parlour.
Narcissa was seated on a lounge, her body curled up into a tight ball. The sun poured in and onto her face and he saw that there was a steady stream of tears rolling down her cheeks though she made no sound.
"Mother," he breathed. Her only recognition of his arrival was to straighten herself out, removing her legs from the couch and placing her feet daintily on the floor. He joined her on the couch and she leaned into him immediately. They sat in silence, Draco simply holding his mother whilst she shed her tears for the love she had lost.
Hermione waited in the library of Malfoy Manor. She had heard Draco's arrival half an hour before, dismissing herself from the parlour before Draco had entered. Narcissa needed to be with her son. She found herself flicking through books at random, running her fingers along dusty spines and inhaling the smell of old tomes.
She had arrived just as the Healers from St. Mungo's were removing Lucius' body. At that point Krackus had been overseeing everything whilst Narcissa mourned in the parlour. She had been the one to find her husband's body when she had gone to offer him tea. Hermione could only imagine the devastation Narcissa had felt when she had found Lucius, apparently dozing in his study, only to realize that he would not wake from his slumber.
According to Krackus, Narcissa had screamed he had immediately come to her side. At the sight that greeted the elderly house elf he had apparated Narcissa to the parlour, where she had remained ever since, and followed her instructions. Within minutes of Narcissa's gruesome discovery Hermione had been contacted and the Healers had arrived. Since then everything had been a blur, the only thing making sense being Krackus showing her to the library where she now resided, aimlessly flipping through a book on charms.
She was trying to think of anything but the events that had unfolded that afternoon, pushing thoughts of the deceased Lucius Malfoy out of her mind along with her discovery at Draco's home. The sight of Pansy Parkinson in what was clearly a male's dressing gown, Draco's no doubt judging by his initials sewn onto the breast, was surprising and distressing. She had immediately felt a wave of anger surge through her systems and she couldn't even look at Draco. The last thing she had seen before apparating away was a mingled look of hurt and confusion etched onto his face at her sharp words.
She had every right to be angry, though. He had led her to believe that they were...something, only to turn around and shag Pansy Parkinson! She had read that Pansy had recently divorced Blaise Zabini, but she certainly seemed to have moved on quickly. With an angry hiss, Hermione snapped the book close and returned it to its spot on the shelf with more force than necessary. She knew it was stupid and selfish to be complaining about her love life with all that had happened in the afternoon but she still couldn't help the irrational feelings that clawed at her insides.
Turning around she flopped into an armchair, the dust rising in whirlwinds from where it had settled on her seat. Truthfully, she was not quite sure why she still remained in the house. She was in no fit state to read with her mind racing a mile a minute and Narcissa seemed not to require her presence whilst Draco was in the Manor. Resigning herself to an afternoon of relaxation at her parents' house (though she mentally chastised herself for indulging in such a thing at this time) she stood and quickly exited the library.
Once the grand doors closed behind her and she stood in the hallway she was entirely unsure of where to go. A soft thud sounded to her right and she turned to see Draco closing the door. Her eyes raked over his appearance and her resentment faltered. He looked so sad. Feeling her gaze he looked up and stiffened slightly before relaxing once more.
"You startled me," he said quietly, stepping towards her. She stepped back.
"How is Narcissa?" Hermione asked as she moved.
"Asleep. I just gave her a Dreamless Sleep draught."
"Okay," she mumbled. "I should go."
The atmosphere seemed to shift with her words. Draco tensed and his face grew cold as if realizing something unsavoury. "Yes, you should," he nodded stiffly. Confusion flooded her. "Krackus! Please show Miss Granger out."
The elderly elf nodded, having appeared when his name was called, and tugged on Hermione's hand to make her follow. She obliged, letting the elf lead her to the end of the hallway where she paused and turned to look at Draco.
He was staring at her with sad grey eyes, the look on his face mingled with something undistinguishable that pulled on her heart strings. Their eyes connected for only a second before Draco shut his and turned away, leaving a lump in Hermione's throat.
A/N: NOTE: Seppelt Para is a port which was made in 1892. According to my research it was made in the Barossa Valley in South Australia and sells for about AU$1800 per bottle.
I would like to issue a huge thank you to anyone who reviewed/favourited/alerted my story. I got some lovely reviews from my last chapter and I want to thank each and every person who went to the effort of writing a review.
Unfortunately, I won't be updating this weekend as I'm travelling up north to visit my friend on Friday night, and I won't return until Sunday afternoon. If I have time I may be able to write a small update on Sunday but it is unlikely.
PLEASE REVIEW! I love anything you have to say about my story, as long as it's constructive criticism (if it is criticism). I'm sorry if this chapter was a bit confusing. I wrote each of the passages in an entirely different order and then pieced it all together for some strange reason.