Chapter Thirty-Six
Draco sat on a leather stool in the corner of the room. To an outsider looking in, one might conclude – judging from the look on Draco's face – that he was sitting up in the room of a dead person.
He'd taken great pains to make sure Hermione was comfortable. It never occurred to him that he should do any different, although if he'd really thought about it, he might have been disgusted with himself for being too soft. A house elf had been summoned to find the best room in the mansion – a task which was promptly completed and Draco's intentions executed. There was a tower room, five floors above the ground and solitary. An abundance of windows yielded an unparalleled view of the lake.
The rain seemed to have let up a little bit;Sunlight was streaming into the room through the rain and mist. The result was a beautiful rainbow arch across the sky – a manifestation of a happiness Draco could not begin to feel.
He'd summoned a bed, and then his mother. Narcissa arrived promptly by Floo and listened intently to Draco's story, the corners of her mouth downturned and her eyebrows furrowed, betraying that she was not happy at all with the news she was receiving. All the while, she worked deftly at healing Hermione's bruises (there were an accumulation of them around her throat), and stemming the remaining blood that continued to flow from her body.
When finally Draco had finished relaying the events, he sat on the stool where he now rested. He felt he had never spoken so many words in his life.
"The child is gone," Narcissa confirmed.
Draco already knew this, intuitively; His gray eyes watched Narcissa as she worked, looking away when he felt it was necessary.
"I'm giving her sedatives. She needs her sleep – it will be welcome to her."
Draco nodded absently. The wheels of his mind were turning at a speed of what seemed a thousand miles a minute.
"You did this," he finally uttered, gray eyes fixed on his mother.
Narcissa stiffened. "Indirectly, yes. You're right. I did." She faced her son with hazel eyes, now dull from years of emotional vapidity and discontent. "Do you hate me?"
He shook his head. Satisfied, she turned back to her work. A Malfoy never apologizes.
"How can you stand him?"
Narcissa did not look up again, but answered, "I do what I must... what else would I do?"
"He was married to a woman before you."
"Yes."
"You never told me."
"I never wanted you to know."
"I met my brother."
Narcissa visibly stiffened again. "I knew there was a child..."
"Why did you marry him if you knew his reputation could be tarnished?" Narcissa did not reply. Draco knew he was being ignored – but he was a married man now, and etiquette allowed him to challenge this. "I don't appreciate being ignored, mother."
"I loved him then," she whispered hastily. She looked around the room quickly, as thought afraid someone might have heard her admit such an emotion.
Draco's eyes fell to the ground: it was an answer he hadn't expected at all. Love! What an idea…
"What happened?"
"Does it matter?"
"What if it did?"
"It is not something I care to discuss, nor do I feel compelled to do so, in any case," she concluded with a dry sniff. The subject had closed.
Feeling he shouldn't push the envelope, Draco let the revelation lie. His eyes fixed back to the limp form on the bed.
"I am going to leave you for a little while," Narcissa announced. "There are things that need to be done to this home to ensure your father does not return - though I believe his work here is already done. I will set up some basic enchantments for the time being. Later tonight, you and I will talk further."
"What happens when he finds out you're here?" Draco questioned.
"You don't need to worry about me, Draco."
He knew he didn't – but it never had stopped him from doing so, anyway.
As soon as she left, the room was enveloped with a silence akin to a mausoleum.
Draco's gaze fell to the floor, and he caught a glimpse of Hermione's shoes, which he'd carelessly discarded before he'd placed her on the bed. A lump rose in his throat: they were so tiny they surely couldn't fit on her foot. He glanced for the first time at her feet, impossibly small. He felt like he wanted to cry, but Draco Malfoy simply did not cry – he'd forgotten how somewhere along the line.
How fragile she seemed at this moment. He just wanted to run his fingers along her cheek, but was afraid she might shatter, made of glass. And besides, such an action seemed so forbidden and unnecessary.
…But who would ever know…?
Tentatively, he raised his hand, softly running his thumb along her jawline. She didn't break – she didn't even move.
All at once it occurred to Draco that Hermione was human, just like him. She had blood in her veins. She had a beating heart. Everyone already knew she had a brain. But there she lay, human in every aspect.
It struck Draco at that moment how big the world really was. There were people out there – other humans! They all had bodies that worked just like his. They all had minds, individual thoughts. He was one of them. Hermione was one of them.
…Could they really be all THAT different, after all?
A lock of hair was curled around her ear, framing her paler-than-usual face. It was such a feminine thing Draco almost felt he should turn away. But why?
Despite the question there, he still couldn't bring himself to do it. Retreating back to the stool, he remained there for almost a full hour before he left.
Something inside him wanted to look back as he left, but he fought the impulse aggressively, closing the door behind him.
.
.
Hermione woke up that night to an unfamiliar room, circular and with stone walls. There were several lit candles floating around the room to offer some dim lighting. A familiar ginger ball of fluff was situated by her feet.
"Crookshanks?" she rasped through dry lips.
Bewildered, she attempted to sit up in bed but she was so sore, she had to exert quite a bit of effort just to achieve what she wanted.
The cat looked up, but it wasn't Crookshanks. It stared at her for a moment before extending its front legs forward in a stretch. Yawning, the cat sauntered to the other side of the bed, still a little ways out of her reach and curled up again.
Her heart sank – having Crookshanks there would have been a bigger aide to her miserable life than anyone might have supposed. But she'd given up on recovering him – he'd most likely been lost in the fire that had claimed her parents…
For a moment, she considered why she was in such a strange room. Why did she feel so different? What had happened? Where was she?
The memory came back in a flash flood: the intensity of it literally knocked the wind out of her, as though she'd taken a blow to the stomach. Propping herself up against the headboard, she put a hand on her stomach. It felt different, somehow. Had something happened?
"You're awake."
The voice startled Hermione so much, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Her hand flew to her heart – but it was Narcissa, emerging from the shadows of the room.
"I hope I didn't startle you too badly," the woman murmured awkwardly.
"No," Hermione sighed, "I'm fine. What… what happened to me?"
"Perimeters have been put up around this manor; Lucius will not be able to return."
Well THAT was good news, anyway… even if it didn't answer the question. Purebloods were never good for answering questions.
"What day is it?"
"August the thirty-first."
"Hogwarts begins tomorrow."
"You will be well enough to go. But if you feel faint in the morning, Draco has received permission for you to arrive at a later date."
"Draco…" Hermione's brow furrowed. "The school knows we're married?"
"Yes."
That WASN'T good news… maybe she could ask MacGonagall not to say anything… Even as she thought this idea, Hermione realized she was being childish.
"What happened to…?"
She didn't need to finish the sentence: Both she and Narcissa knew what she was referring to. The other woman's silence told her everything she needed to know.
Hermione slumped back onto her pillow as it finally sunk in: she was not having her child. After all the resentment, violation and displeasure… the child would never come to exist.
Despite never having felt any love for the life she had presumed to have been growing inside her, Hermione felt tears well up into her eyes. Her head jerked to the window where, sure enough, the rain was running in tiny estuaries down the windowpanes.
The door creaked open and a house elf bearing a tray of light food entered. Upon seeing his mistress awake, he bowed profusely and placed the tray on a table by her side.
"Fetch the master," Narcissa said to the elf.
The elf bowed to her and promptly disapparated, seeming glad to have been given a specific task to complete.
Moments later, the door creaked open and Draco emerged from the other side of it. Narcissa seemed to float across the ground to her son. She put a hand on his arm and whispered, "I will leave you for tonight. Tomorrow you leave for school."
"You'll stay here, as you said, while I'm away?" he queried, eyes serious.
"Yes," she confirmed. Without another word, she quit the room.
Hermione looked up at Draco and looked swiftly down again; His facial expression was one of someone walking into a room full of dead and dying people.
The pair sat in silence for what seemed like eons. The rain beat a steady rhythm on the windowpanes, a dreary reminder of what the two young people were up against.
"She told you?" he prompted, finally resolving to say something.
Hermione burst into tears, interrupting the silence with an explosion of dysphoria: grief, hopelessness and sorrow.
Her tears alarmed Draco, who had no idea what to do, or how to respond to them. Feeling intensely uncomfortable, he sat in silence until she'd cried her heart out.
Once her tears had reduced to mere sniffles, he unstuck his throat and seemed to find his voice. "You need to forget, Hermione," he said simply.
"Forget," she repeated dully. "Forget – how?" She allowed space for a pause, but Draco somehow got the distinct impression she was not looking for him to reply. He was right. "How can I forget my parents? They're dead. How can I forget my grandmother? She hates me. How can I forget living in fear? I still do. How can I forget that you and I HATED one another for seven years? We still might. How can I forget the… the violation? It still affects me. How can I forget your father? The miscarriage?"
The miscarriage. It was the first time someone had acknowledged what it was properly. Draco felt ashamed with himself for having been spawned by a man like his father.
"Those things all happened. Nothing will ever change them. I CAN'T forget them. Those things are what my life is MADE UP OF!" Hermione cried.
There was a cadence in the conversation and Draco determined that she'd finished her reply and he was now allowed to say his piece. "I don't want you to forget those things. What I want you to forget… is pain."
His gray eyes were like glaciers – so cold… but Hermione could tell there was something hidden underneath their depths. What it was, she didn't know – but she understood.
"Forget the pain," she murmured. Then with a small laugh, she repeated, "Forget the pain."
She looked again into his boreal eyes. They looked back from their arctic depths.
Night enclosed them like curtains upon the final act.
.
.
Author's Note: My kids were watching that Disney version of the Tarzan movie. You know that Phil Collins song, "Two Worlds" that is part of the soundtrack? Yeah, well that's what you can thank for the quick update. In any case, I wanted to leave you all with something else before I go on my trip! (Because you're all awesome and stuff!)
CherryKatt202 - I know you asked me to send you a PM answering your question, but I hope this chapter answered it for me!
Thanks bucketloads to gitgit, tfobmv18, MyLookOfDenial., Sarjhi, margaritama, RIPJameSiriusLupinTrueMarauder, InvisibleLilacNights and Joe-nasGirl for the reviews! I know you all asked me to update quickly... but I bet you didn't expect it THIS quick!!! Haha
gitgit - I agree. A growling Draco is a VERY sexy thing... in the right circumstances... You can bet there will be the good kind of growling Draco in chapters to come... hehehe...
margaritama - It does have to be Draco. Lucius is just an asshole and he likes to make threats he can't always follow through with, as he demonstrated a small handful of times throughout JKR's series. Sorry for the confusion!!