Chapter Twenty-Eight

Draco found himself far more relaxed than he'd anticipated once Hermione had dressed and left the room. She hadn't told him where she was going… though it wasn't really like he gave a damn, anyway.

He re-read the letter he finished with a critical eye: It was important he didn't sound too wishy-washy, or even apologetic. What was important… was that Adrian knew he was interested in nurturing their brotherhood.

Nurturing? Well… maybe that was going a bit far. Malfoys never nurture.

Acknowledging... yes. That was good.

Draco carefully made the small change and then, satisfied with what he'd written, he carefully sealed the envelope.

It was interesting that, two days after the wedding, he was already thinking less about his new wife than the fact that he had a sibling, albeit a half-brother.

Brushing off the house elf that offered to take the letter to the owlery for him, Draco decided to take the long way around the manor, mostly to collect his thoughts.

Now that he was married, he automatically had lots of business to attend to. There was a job lined up for him at the Ministry of Magic, as well – not that he really needed to work for money. It was more of a way to pass the time. Some ambassador's job – which meant more time away from home, as well. The perks were nice and both he and Hermione could remain sane that way.

Draco stopped in his tracks.

"BOTH of us could remain sane? Since when did I care?" he demanded of himself.

"Sounds like you've already lost that battle to me."

Draco whirled around, wand immediately at the ready – but no one was there. "Show yourself," he challenged.

"To your left."

Draco turned to his left, but again there was no one present; His eyes narrowed.

"Oh bother!" the voice sighed. "The gargoyle!"

Draco's eyes riveted themselves to the stone gargoyle occupying the cranny in the hallway. He supposed it was meant for some kind of decoration, framed between two overdone velvet window hangings – but it was really quite ugly.

"What? Never seen a talking gargoyle before?" the gargoyle demanded.

Draco played calm. He was sure the gargoyle looked familiar somehow, though he was pretty positive he'd never met one that could talk. "Never seen YOU before, that's for sure."

"Did I startle you?" the gargoyle queried hopefully.

"I don't startle very easily."

"Hmph, it's too bad. I've been pretty bored in this part of the house. There's nothing to do and nothing interesting to look at. No one ever comes through this hallway, either – except the house elves, but scaring them's got old."

"What a shame," Draco uttered, completely unconcerned.

"There was the lady, though," the gargoyle added as an afterthought. "Yes, she came through here yesterday."

"A lady?"

"Mmmhmm, gorgeous creature, really. Kind of nerdy-looking, though."

Draco snorted, "What was she doing in this part of the house?"

"Not sure. It kind of looked like she was exploring. Talking to herself a mite – about some guy named Albert… no, that wasn't it. Alfie? No…. Alan. Yeah, Alan – he ruined everything or some tosh."

"I don't know any Alans."

The gargoyle made a motion that seemed to be shrugging its shoulders, "Blathered if I know, either."

"Indeed. Have a nice day."

"Yes, yes. I'll see you in a year or so," the gargoyle muttered, rolling its eyes. "Be sure to visit!"

Draco did not reply, choosing instead to continue on his way. It was interesting – he'd never heard of Hermione referred to as 'gorgeous' before – but he supposed in a way, she kind of was. She had been absolutely stunning at the wedding, hardly recognizable and yet, it simply couldn't have been anyone else.

Realization struck suddenly…

The woods that day… the blood… the nakedness of her body… the wide, glassy eyes. He was sure she was dead.

And Alan must be…

Anger flared up in his heart. What gave anyone the right to violate someone in that way? That monstrous deed was even worse than the Cruciatus, in his mind.

"It's sick," he spat.

His mood had not improved upon reaching the owlery. There were only seven household owls and Draco employed the one closest to the door, roughly attaching the letter to the creature's leg.

With an annoyed peck at Draco's hand, the disgruntled bird flew off into the rain. Draco hardly noticed.

"Wonder if they ever caught that damn Muggle," he wondered aloud to himself. He stared out at the landscape spread before him; It was really a glorious view – the mansion was situated by the Irish Sea, some miles away from the town of Abereiddy. He quietly marveled to himself the idea that he now lived in Wales, a separate country even from his parents.

"That damn Muggle is out there somewhere," he murmured. "People like that don't deserve to be free."

He wondered what Hermione would say were he to hire someone to track the guy down.

"No, can't do that – remember? She doesn't know you're even involved."

Draco shook his head; Why should he do that, anyway? Hermione hadn't shared the experience with him, therefore he had no right to meddle. It wasn't his problem, anyway. Why should he even care?

Upon returning to his office in the West Wing, Draco was surprised to find a note from his father. It seemed harmless enough – merely asking Draco to bring Hermione by that night for dinner – but in the pit of his stomach, Draco knew there was more to it.

He could think only of the visit to Carissa Baxter, or the glint that shone in Lucius' eyes from time to time.

Dinner would be interesting, that was for sure.

But…

An idea came to Draco.

He was a married man now.

He was… free?

That thought didn't really make sense to him. He folded his arms across his chest and sat back in his desk chair, lips straightened into a line. He was married. He was living in a house that was all his own. All the property on his estate was his. He was in charge of his own life. He had a job and a chunk of fortune that could stretch the rest of his life. And he now lived in a separate country from his parents.

So…

The thought seemed dangerous and therefore alluring. What if Draco Malfoy decided he didn't WANT to go to dinner that night? What if Draco Malfoy decided he didn't WANT to bring the wife by his parents' house? She was hardly a wife, anyway – more like a roommate.

What if… Draco Malfoy had decided he wasn't going to be controlled anymore?

He stood up abruptly and almost knocked the chair onto the ground behind him. He could live here, in exile from his family. He wouldn't really miss any of them, anyway. And the people that mattered might still come to visit, even if his parents disowned him.

He sat back down. If only it were that simple.

If he tried to cut ties from his parents – more specifically his father – it would break his mother's heart. If there was anyone in the world Draco Malfoy could love, it was his mother; For all her faults, he just could not do that to her. His father, though: Lucius was not beyond the Imperius Curse, he was sure, even with the Ministry of Magic tracking his usage of magic. The Malfoy name was still strong enough so that Lucius could be able to hire someone to do it for him and cover it up well enough so that the Ministry would never know.

Draco peered at the book that was spread out in front of him. The page was opened on a chapter about Grenadian Thestral Hoof Enamel. It was important he read about it and yet, there wasn't anything he wanted to do less at that moment.

He rose again and walked to the window. The rain was still falling.

The leaves from the maple tree outside the window were dropping slowly into the brook that flowed by the West Wing of the house: A reminder that autumn would come soon. The leaves used the rain-pocked water as bedding, oblivious to the fact that the rain was beating down on them. They remained indifferent until the rain finally won, and the leaves disappeared under the water, drowning in their finality.

Draco re-focused his eyes to see a different image in the glass of the widow – himself; The rain outside became just a backdrop.

But was the image in the window really that different from the one outside it? The pale, frowning boy with the pointed nose was barely a man, and yet he had a look in his gray eyes… the reflection of a man who did not know who he was. Someone who had seen far more than his allotment of tragedies take place.

The finality of the leaves being beat upon by the rain and finally drowning in the brook… well, it wasn't so very different from Draco, after all. They were both doomed to a lifetime of being held down and smothered.

Feeling rebellious, Draco tore out of the room and changed into his riding gear. He didn't care if he was going to catch cold, or be late for dinner, or shirk his duties – his mind was far from easy, and something in the pit of his stomach, even as he arrived at the stables, told him something bad was going to happen soon.

.

Author's Note: As you may or may not have noticed, I deleted the original fanfic to this story. I will soon be changing the title of THIS fic to "Summer's Surprises" sans the "Redo" part. I feel the need to thank everyone for the 1,124 reviews I got for that fic, though. So thanks!

Thanks also to , sureynot, spikeecat, tfobmv18, MyLookOfDenial., gitgit, RIPJameSiriusLupinTrueMarauder, AerintheWhiteKnight, InvisibleLilacNights, ebbe04, -Arria Rose-, brooklynsam3, and GoodCharlotte615 for the reviews! I actually was pretty excited when I saw I got so many.

Sorry for the wait in updating! I'm trying, really! Things have just been really crazy lately. But as promised, I added more of everyone's favorite Slytherin. A whole chapter of just Draco! Hooray.

AerintheWhiteKnight - I'm sorry to hear that. Well, not sorry that you thought the last chapter was well-written, but sorry it was awkward for you. My parents went through a split when I was younger... but they weren't that way. They were more like... duck or something might get thrown at your head. Hah.