Narcissa stared at the wall, not moving, not blinking, not seeing.
She had tucked her knees beneath her chin and was lying on her side, arms wrapped protectively around her legs. This was her safety position. This was how she had lain when Draco had been branded. This was how she had lain when she had lost her baby before she was even round with child. This was how she had lain whenever her world crashed around her.
And this was how she lay now.
She had long since cried all her tears out. Now she just lay there, wishing that Lucius would crawl beside her and just hold her like he always did. She needed him. And now he was gone and she was left a mess, dressed in the clothes she had been wearing three days ago, all signs of youthfulness gone.
How could he leave her? How could he not tell her? That miserable old bastard, the man she loved with all of her heart had left her, and he had known all along that he would do so. Why had he not let her know? Had there been signs? Surely not! Had he meant to hurt her? Had he meant to leave her like this, crumbling and empty? Gods, she needed him.
All at once she felt her throat burn and her eyes sting and somehow her body produced more tears because in two seconds she was shaking as tears flooded down her cheeks.
The room was filled with an array of flashing colours as Draco sent hex after hex and curse after curse at the dummy in front of him. He had thought the Duelling Room would help him blow off some steam, but all it seemed to be doing was making him angrier. With an enraged roar he sent a curse at the target and it erupted in flames, only to extinguish itself almost immediately.
There was a clatter as Draco's wand slipped from between his fingers and all of a sudden he had launched himself at the dummy, his fists pounding against his inanimate sparring partner. He kicked, punched, bit and scratched at the figure, not ceasing his actions until he was panting for breath and his knuckles were bloodied.
Crawling away from the dummy on shaky arms and legs he moved to a corner, burying his face into his hands. He was a mess. The blood on his hands trickled down and into his sleeves as he sat there and before long he did something he had not done since Katie Bell had returned to school in his sixth year. He let himself cry.
Hermione frowned, wondering whether or not she should knock on the door to Malfoy Manor. She was standing in front of the ornately carved entrance, her mind racing a mile a minute. She had not heard from Narcissa since the day of Lucius' death and she had not received any word from Draco, either. Chewing on her lip, Hermione finally raised her hand to knock.
The doors opened immediately and she saw a distressed looking Krackus ushering her in wordlessly. She followed the little elf as he led her up the stairs, noticing the eerie silence that had befallen the grand home. She recognized the room they stopped at as the one that Draco had been exiting the last time she had visited and looked down to Krackus, entering when he pushed her lightly.
"Go, Missus," Krackus prompted and she obliged, walking over the threshold and leaving the elf outside.
The room was dark and extremely large, the main feature being a vast four poster bed on which Hermione spied the form of Narcissa. She approached the older witch cautiously, announcing her arrival with a quiet cough. At the noise Narcissa flinched but made no move to acknowledge her visit. With hesitant steps Hermione approached, finally sitting on the edge of the bed beside Narcissa's curled up body.
"Narcissa," she murmured quietly, brushing her friend's hair from her face. "Narcissa."
"Hermione," Narcissa finally mumbled and Hermione let out a breath she didn't realise she had been holding. Narcissa looked up at her from beneath lidded eyes, the small slits of blue hazy. "You won't hurt him, will you?"
"What?" the brunette asked, puzzled.
"Please don't hurt him," Narcissa repeated. "You can't hurt him. He's all I have left. Now that Lucius is gone and I don't have anyone else. I was going to have someone else, you know. A little baby. But I lost her."
"I'm so sorry, Narcissa," Hermione said. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."
Narcissa looked up at Hermione with wide eyes, so full of sadness and worry that Hermione felt her heart tug in her chest. "Draco. My Draco. Please don't hurt him. He will love you. Just give him time. And when he does love you, please don't hurt him. I can't lose him. Not now."
Hermione's breath caught in her throat. "Draco?" she frowned. "I don't think he will love me. I think he has somebody else."
"No," Naricissa's head moved from side to side gently. "He needs you. And he will love you. But you can't hurt him. Look after him."
"Okay," Hermione said slowly, at a total loss for words. "Come on, Narcissa. Let's get you cleaned up and fed."
Narcissa said nothing, just allowed Hermione to pull her into a sitting position and help her to the bathroom. With steady hands Hermione unbuttoned Narcissa's blouse and pulled it off, following with the skirt and stockings but leaving her undergarments. Flicking her wand, the large bathtub filled with warm water. Rifling in one of the bathroom cabinets for a minute resulted in the discovery of a Restorative Potion and Hermione helped her friend drink the contents of the vial. Narcissa stood on her own accord and clambered into the tub whilst Hermione cleared away the container.
"Narcissa, I'm just going to find you some clothes. I'll be back in a few minutes, so you just scrub yourself clean and I'll return in a moment," Hermione told the witch who nodded once and sunk low in the bath. Leaving the door open, Hermione returned to the bedroom and surveyed the area until she found a door which could only lead to a wardrobe.
She found she was right in assuming that the room was a wardrobe, though it was grander than she could ever imagine. There seemed to be clothes in every direction and she had absolutely no idea what to choose for Narcissa to wear. She could see a line of beautiful robes followed by an even larger section of formal dresses. There were more casual robes than she could count and more pieces of muggle attire than she could ever hope to own in her entire life.
After nearly ten minutes of searching she managed to find some simple jeans and a large jumper in the smallest section of clothing and she managed to wind her way out of the wardrobe with a little difficulty. She could not understand how someone could even find the time to buy that many clothes.
Finally exiting the wardrobe, she came across Narcissa who was sitting at the foot of the bed, wrapped in a fluffy green towel and looking remarkably sane compared to how she had been prior to her bath.
"Thank you, Hermione," the witch said soberly, taking the clothes from the younger witch's hands. "I don't know what I would do without you."
"Nonsense, Narcissa," Hermione shook her head. "You're my friend and you needed me. That's what friends do. I'm so sorry for everything that has happened."
"I know. So am I," Narcissa bowed her head. "I meant what I said before, even if I did appear to be utterly insane. About Draco."
"I'm not sure what you mean," Hermione went to turn away but Narcissa's surprisingly curt voice cut her off.
"You know perfectly well what I mean, Hermione," the blonde said sharply. "I may have been half-asleep but I knew exactly what I was saying. I may be getting on in years but I'm certainly not daft."
"I never-,"
"Draco is all that I have left now that...now..." Narcissa wiped her eyes quickly and sniffed once. "Draco is everything to me now. I see how you look at him, and how he looks at you. It's how anyone looks at the person who they want to love. You need to give him a chance. Please."
"I don't know if you're right about that," Hermione shook her head and Narcissa raised a weary brow.
"Trust me, Hermione. I know what I'm speaking of. Now, if you wouldn't mind excusing me, I need to change," Narcissa said, tightening the towel she was wrapped in. "Perhaps you could locate my son. I haven't seen him for three days."
Hermione nodded and dismissed herself quickly, slipping through the door and out into the now empty hall. Confusion filled her features as she look up and down the corridor, unsure of which way to turn or where she could even begin to look for Draco. She took a few tentative steps to her left, towards down the long hallway until she finally realized that she had no idea where she was going. After a moment's deliberation she clicked open the nearest door, surveying the new room.
There were no windows and yet the area was perfectly lit, invisible lights illuminating the crisp white walls and floors. In the centre of the room stood a mannequin which held obvious scorch marks around the edges, the rest of the room seemingly empty. Her eyes swept over the room once more, only to land on something she had not noticed before. In the corner there was a hunched over figure, shuddering slightly.
Draco.
Her heart broke. It had not been whole in a long time, but looking at him like this made it seem like there was a gaping hole in her chest. He had always been haughty and strong, never displaying his emotions. And now he appeared a shaking, sobbing wreck. Utterly broken. Without realizing quite what she was doing she crossed the room and sank down to the floor beside him. He jumped slightly at her touch when she wrapped her arm around his shoulders, but he leaned into her embrace. His head rested on her shoulder, his hair tickling the crook of her neck.
They sat like that for a long while, saying nothing, just letting everything flow between them as she held him close.
He could not seem to produce anymore tears, but movement at this point seemed impossible. She was so soft, so warm. He had missed warmth. He hadn't felt warmth and comfort like this in so long. He had always been cold when he was at school. That was how he had survived. After the war when he had been with Astoria he had been horrid. He couldn't deal with her with any level of compassion. When he had been in the muggle world it was all about staying afloat, keeping his head above water. He had felt almost human. But this was different. This was so real. She was so real.
There was this incredible heat that seemed to radiate from her wherever her body met his. Even though there were layers of clothes between their skin, the warmth she gave him was almost uncomfortably hot, but he would not change it for anything in the world at this moment. They had said nothing since her arrival. The silence was wonderful. It was so peaceful, and he was so comfortable. He kept his eyes closed, relishing in the softness of her skin. At some point in his breakdown she had taken his hand, and now he ran this thumb over the soft, smooth skin that was the back of her hand. He couldn't seem to remember feeling anything so soft.
Of course, in the silence and comfort of the moment something had to disturb them, and it happened to be his stomach. He had not eaten since the night before, and that had just been a piece of bread and a glass of milk. His stomach protested once more and Hermione's shoulders began to bounce up and down with silent laughter. He opened his eyes and pulled away from her body, releasing everything but her hand, and looked at her.
"When did you last eat?" she asked, fighting a smile. He could see her lips threatening to twitch upwards and he realized that they were a very pretty pink. When he admitted that he hadn't eaten since the night before her eyes (So warm. Why had he not noticed them before?) widened. "Come on, then. You can't just not eat."
"I haven't been hungry," he shrugged when they stood.
"Well you obviously are now," she pointed out. "Actually, would you mind leading the way? I have absolutely no idea where we are," she admitted sheepishly. He felt the burbling desire to laugh but the smile nor the laughter would come. There was still a hole where his heart felt it should be.
He nodded and led her from the room, still not releasing her hand. She made no movement to remove her hand from his until they had reached the kitchens at which point she released herself from his grasp. Tipsy seemed delighted to see him up and about, albeit ruffled and unbathed. The elf immediately hurried Draco into a seat and bustled around for a few moments before returning with a plate of pork chops. His mouth watered and Hermione smiled encouragingly at him. She remained standing, and he realized that she seemed a bit standoffish despite her facial expression.
"What?" he asked after he was halfway through his plate of food. She had been saying nothing, but she was frowning at him. "Why are you acting like this?"
"I'm wondering where Pansy is," she said simply, crossing her arms tightly. He regretfully pulled his eyes away from the cleavage that was pushed up by this action. "Shouldn't she be the one comforting you?"
"What?" he asked again, his fork paused midway to his mouth. What on earth was she talking about?
"Pansy. You know, the woman who was in your apartment the other day wearing your dressing gown," she said. His eyes narrowed.
"What the fuck are you on about?" he dropped his fork. He didn't need this. Not now. Not after everything that had happened. He didn't fucking need this.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," her voice sounded sad. It made it harder to be angry at her when she looked at him with her wide eyes. "I don't know what we had but I thought we had something, and then I saw Pansy at your house. I guess I was wrong."
"Are you insane, Granger?"
"Don't!" she shrieked, her mood changing faster then he thought possible. "Don't you dare! I wanted there to be something. I was so sure that there was something, but then you went ahead and screwed Pansy."
"That's what you think?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes, that's what I think!"
"And you really think that now is the appropriate time for you to bring up your little relationship insecurities? Now that my father is dead?" he bellowed. Silence hung in the air for a moment and then the realization hit him. Lucius was truly dead, and all at once there was the dreadful emptiness that ached in his chest and he wanted her once more. He wanted her warmth and her safety, but now she wouldn't come near him.
"Draco, I-," she began.
"Don't," he said hollowly. "Don't fucking bother. You're obviously so determined that this isn't going to work. I don't need your shit right now. Just leave."
They stood there for a minute, staring at each other. She wished she could look away, but his icy orbs seemed to drag her in. He wanted her to leave, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. She felt this unmistakeable pull towards him, like they were designed to fit together. She wanted to be close to him, but his eyes were so full of despair and anger that she knew leaving would be the safest thing to do.
"I'm so sorry," she murmured finally, turning on her heel to leave. She wanted him to stop her. She wanted him to grab her wrist and pull her back. Hell, she wanted to turn back herself and hold him until all of his sadness evaporated, but instead she just walked away.
A/N: This is really late and really short. I don't have any excuses, but I am working on a Rose/Scorpius oneshot at the moment which is going to be huge. Anyway, it would appear that Draco and Hermione are having some communication difficulties.
Please review!