A/N: I'm sorry about the delay; I just really needed to step away from this for a bit so I could come back and make it the best it could be. This has little to no dialogue which is a bit different for me but it's how I preferred to write this particular chapter. Hope you enjoy.
Hermione lay awake in the lavishly decorated guest bedroom of Malfoy Manor, blackout curtains shielding the rising sun outside and dousing the room in darkness. As she reclined against satin sheets, she was struck by the resounding silence of such a huge building. Hogwarts echoed in some fashion almost constantly but everything in the mansion seemed subdued and she wondered if it was owed to a silencing charm or the simple fact it was near completely devoid of occupants. The Gryffindor girl found she subtly missed the rustle of sheets as the other girls in her dorm turned in their sleep; soft breathing filling the room or Ginny's cheerful humming emanating from the adjoining bathroom. She knew Draco was only across the hall but she imagined he'd hardly slept and waking him prematurely didn't seem fair.
Supper the previous evening had been a relatively quiet affair. They'd shared a couch, sipping tea and she'd attempted to distract him by asking about the history of his home. He'd shared only a few deeply personal anecdotes like learning to fly with his father or falling in the fountain with Blaise. She'd deduced there were stories with his mother too but he didn't want to speak of them in that moment and Hermione had deftly steered the conversation to alternative topics until he relaxed again and his fingertips stopped tapping at the cup in his grasp. It was easy to observe his comfortable posture in the place where he'd grown up but she wasn't sure if it was reminiscence or genuine fondness in his gaze as he glanced around the room while he spoke.
Draco had shown her to the guest bedroom when the hour grew late and assured her he was only a few steps away should she need him and somewhat more happily introduced her to a house elf that bowed low in her presence and determinedly addressed her as "Miss Granger" no matter how many times she assured the small creature her first name was more than acceptable. Any inclinations toward a lecture on the rights of house elves dispersed at the sight of his dangerously exhausted features, he resembled a corpse more than she'd ever seen him. During the war the young Malfoy appeared gaunt and sickly, the result of constant fear and anxiety in a place you should feel safe. However, when they were together in the library or the potions classroom or even the dimly lit Astronomy tower, she saw someone so much happier and full of life. Hermione was quickly becoming accustomed to his unreserved smiles, forthcoming chuckles and cheeky smirks. It was evident what the current events were doing to him and she could imagine some of the thoughts running through his head like they once had for her.
Across in the master bedroom, Draco had already risen and taken up residence on his personal balcony. It wasn't particularly warm sat out under the first rays of morning but it was nothing a quick charm couldn't fix and the view of the gardens had always been incredible. He relished his ability to step out and become lost at the sight of the vast grounds, undisturbed. He still felt incredibly tired, barely managing a wink of sleep, his mind turning his decision over and over again. His mother had slept soundly and he wondered if it was a sign that she clearly still felt comfortable in her own home and shouldn't be wrenched from its grasp. It was a selfish contemplation but it was an easy choice to let the universe take the blame instead of him. It didn't take a great deal to conceive the idea the Malfoy house was now too tarnished to be anything less than cursed. Theo had asked what he planned to do with his childhood home now it had passed to him but Draco wasn't sure he knew the right answer to that question anymore. There was a time where he would have defended it with his every breath and other moments where he would gladly have torn it down himself. But now the thought crossed his mind of what would his mother say? Would she blame him for that too? Could he destroy the last trace of a childhood he had been so proud of before things had spiralled so terribly out of control? One thing at a time he kept telling himself, there was the day ahead to contend with.
Breakfast passed by with a handful of words and Hermione's keen observations of her friend. It felt slightly odd to her to describe him in that way but after such a lengthy amount of time spent in each other's company it appeared to be the right label. Friends. He had remained relatively polite but ultimately distracted and Hermione had caught his gaze flickering to the clock on a multitude of occasions. The collar of his shirt was stiffly pressed and his tie knotted perfectly above the grey of his jumper, it was formal yet the most casual Hermione had seen him out with his school robes.
Before long the healers and side-along transporters had arrived to collect Narcissa and the boy Hermione knew had shifted into something more akin to his father. Draco himself appeared cold and unapproachable and she'd kept her distance accordingly. Hermione hadn't seen that side of him in a long time, his manner at the Manor when she, Harry and Ron had been captured had been fearful and his sixth year had seen him distancing himself from everyone and generally shrinking into the background. In that moment it was almost cold, calculated and professional the way he stood firm, his expression hinting at fierce power and arrogance, no warmth seeping from his features or body language. The young Malfoy heir had remained civil if not stiff and finalised all necessary paperwork as the healers covered their induction plan with him once again. Narcissa was to be moved to a private room at St. Mungo's, luxury and privacy obviously afforded by his wealth of money, with many of her personal belongings and furniture accompanying her. It was to resemble as close to a Malfoy suite as humanly possible to hopefully aid her transition.
Draco had noted early on in the morning his mother was having a 'spaced out' day and had great difficulty deciding whether to be grateful she would be departing without a fuss or resent the fact she hadn't even recognised him on the day he'd all but said goodbye. There had been no recognition as he silently cried at her bedside, the only person Draco had ever shown his most vulnerable side to. In his heart, he thought he might have preferred her arguing with him and the healers, begging to stay in her home but now as she sat all withered and frail, it was clear her fire was subsiding and long heated exchanges were no longer manageable. He would insist on visiting her as often as he could manage but he could already feel her absence weighing down on him. There was the shuffle of the visitors, the evidence of progress and organisation and through it all he'd felt Hermione lingering somewhere at his side, always within arm's reach should he need her. It was oddly comforting despite such little actual physical contact.
The Gryffindor had barely said a word, not sure what he wanted or rather needed to hear. She had watched on sadly as the elves lingered in the hallways, Poppy's ears drooping terribly as her startling blue eyes welled with tears. It was a mostly silent affair and most of the team had dispersed by the time the Lady Malfoy finally descended the stairs with some difficulty, her son aiding her on one side and Patricia the healer on the other. Hermione could tell even from the bottom of the stairwell Draco's façade was beginning to crack, the reality dawning that this was the moment.
Narcissa Malfoy gave no indication she was aware of any massive changes occurring around her or her son's turbulent emotions and stepped up to the fireplace willingly without a word and a backwards glance. Patricia turned to the Lady Malfoy's only son, a crumbling wreck a few feet away and mustered a weak smile narrowly shielding her sadness. "You can of course see her tomorrow when she's all settled, Mister Malfoy. We'll take excellent care of her."
"See that you do." He muttered with his last prevailing strength, eyes glued to the fireplace as an eruption of emerald flame whisked away its travellers and doused the room in silence.
There was a moment, a few seconds or a few minutes perhaps where there was nothing. No movement, no sound. Hermione could hear her heart beating and her own breathing, staring at Draco wordlessly. She feared breaking the stillness but the moment passed and before Draco could think, he was clutching at the fabric of the nearest chair, nails dragging over the thread as he sank to the floor. The wood was hard under his knees and he wasn't sure when his face had become so wet and his body started shivering. All of a sudden there was a pair of warm arms sliding around his shoulders and over the broad expanse of his back. A gentle hand pulled his head into the crook of her neck as her fingertips slid languidly through his hair. She muttered softly near his ear and while he couldn't make out all the words they were undeniably comforting. Without hesitation Draco wrapped his arms around her waist and surrendered, letting himself be absorbed into her grasp and the unfathomably security and care it provides.
A/N: A quick thank you to the reviewers once again, I appreciate you! Next time will see a fair amount of growth between the pair and I definitely have no intentions for another leave of absence so update coming by Tuesday.
