AN: Thanks so much to everyone taking time to give this story a shot! It means a lot!
This is the second last chapter, so the end is near. Don't be afraid to let me know what you think.
xSevenx
Draco Malfoy wonders how (and why) he got so lucky, every day. Sometimes twice a day. And on those special days, up to three or four times. Because surely he's not really worthy. He's done nothing to deserve such glorious treatment, least of all from her.
She says it's because everyone deserves a second chance, and that this is his.
Some days he catches himself watching her. When she's doing laundry, or washing dishes by hand, or eating, or watching TV. When she's poking around his kitchen and inside his fridge because she knows exactly where everything is. When she's dancing around her living room to her favorite Muggle music or singing karaoke with Ginny. And then there are times that he watches her when she's sleeping, in the middle of night. He could watch her for hours and it wouldn't faze him in the least. He could never get bored.
It's days like that that he doesn't know what he'd do without her, where he'd be without her, who he'd be…without her. And he never, ever, wants to find that out. Ever.
In the weeks since Christmas dinner at the Burrow he's started to spend more time with her friends-and her of course, but he spends almost every day with her. They don't do anything extravagant or out of the ordinary really, not like you'd expect from war hero's. They mostly just went to the movies or out for dinners and lunches, and every Saturday morning Harry and Ron would come over with breakfast and coffee and they'd all four (sometimes five when Ginny is around) sit in the living room and watch Saturday morning cartoons. It turns out he rather likes the Muggle contraption called a 'television', it makes for some rather amusing hours.
It is currently a Sunday. He, along with Hermione, Ginny, Harry and Ron have agreed to join Arthur and Molly Weasley at the Burrow yet again for lunch. They've gotten rather lonely in the years after the war ended, especially when Harry and Ron had moved out and Ginny started going to a Wizarding college in Ireland. Thus, they've all agreed to have dinner and/or lunch with them whenever possible. And it just so happens that all five of them are available this weekend.
Draco and Hermione arrive shortly after 11 o'clock in the morning; Ron, Ginny and Harry are already there. The smell of delicious beef stew wafts through the small (but very tall) house and the sight of freshly made sandwiches on a platter causes Draco's stomach to grumble; he didn't even realize he was hungry beforehand. He stops in the living room to greet Arthur, Ron and Harry, who are watching a Muggle football match before following Hermione into the kitchen to find Molly and Ginny-Molly stirring the stew pot and the youngest Weasley supervising the knife currently chopping up vegetables.
"Smells delicious Molly," Hermione gushes.
Draco peers over the older woman's shoulder into the pot and his stomach growls again. "Looks delicious too."
"How long do you think it'll be mum?" Ginny asks, her mouth practically watering.
"Thank you both. And I suspect it'll take approximately 20 minutes, give or take," Molly tells them all.
"Do you need help?" Draco offers politely. He's taken a fancy to older Weasley woman; like a mother.
Molly smiles, turning to face Draco for a briefly minute, who smiles back at her. "Thanks darling, but I'm alright. Although to be offered help is truly wonderful." She says the last bit loud enough for the boys in the other room to hear but still, it goes unnoticed.
"Mother you know that once they get in front of a TV they're dead to the world," Ginny reminds her, giggling softly to herself.
"Still, a mother can hope. Besides, Draco offered to help," Molly points out.
Hermione snorts playfully. "That's because he's not yet sitting in front of the TV."
Draco clutches his chest with hand in mock pain and disappointment, his eyes wide with a playful shocked look. "You wound me Granger."
She giggles, leaning in to kiss him softly on the lips. As if on cue Ron walks into the kitchen carrying a parcel in his hand.
"Oh for the love of Merlin…" Ron groans, rolling his eyes. "Why is it that every time I walk into a room the two of you are snogging?"
"You have impeccable timing Weasley. It's becoming routine for you, is there something we should know?" Draco smirks. He's teasing the redhead of course, it's like a prerequisite for conversation between Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley. Only nowadays his voice doesn't hold the venom and hatred of his youth, but the innocence of friendship.
"Shut up Malfoy and take this." He shoves the parcel into Draco's chest and the blond takes hold of it, looking down at it in confusion.
"What is it?"
"Dunno, I think it's from the Ministry though. It was one of their owls."
Still rather confused, Draco looks to Hermione who gives him a reassuring smile as he unravels the parchment. His reads it silently in his head, taking in every word carefully. It isn't long, in fact it's quite short for a letter from the ministry, but it doesn't make him any less nervous.
Hermione watches him in apprehension, waiting for a response or a reaction. The reaction she gets is something she had feared. His eyes grow dark and his Adams apple bobs as he swallows thickly, his gaze piercing the parchment as though he could burn a hole in it if he tried hard enough. Suddenly everyone in the kitchen is silent and wary. "Draco? Drake what is it?" she asks softly.
"It's...about my father," he mumbles.
"What? What does it say?"
"Kingsley...he wants me to meet with him as soon as possible...about my father."
"That's odd... I wonder what it could be about," the brunette wonders aloud.
"Mmm... I should go, I apologize-"
"Oh don't you worry dear, another time," Molly smiles warmly at the young man.
He nods, looking at Hermione, silently asking her to come with him. She nods, following him through the living room to the fireplace, all the while promising to reschedule lunch for another Sunday. The green flames swallow them whole.
They reappear in the Minister Shakelbots' office, hand in hand as they emerge from the fire place and the green flames. Kingsley is sitting as his desk alone, rifling through ministry documents. If he hears the fire place rumble when they arrive, he doesn't acknowledge it. And yet he knows they're there because just before Draco opens his mouth to speak, the Minister tells them both to have a seat on the couch on the other side of the room. Hermione practically has to drag him over and sit him down because his nerves are beginning to get the best of him. He thinks (quite briefly) that it would be a hell of a lot easier to sit still with a bottle of whiskey, but he quickly pushes that thought out of his head. His arms are crossed over his chest and his left leg is bobbing up and down with anticipation, a habit he'd picked up in his school days. Beside him however, Hermione is acting all calmcoolandcollected (acting being the key word), probably to settle his nerves down. He doesn't have the heart to tell her that it isn't working.
The room is dead silent, deafeningly so, before the Minister stands up from his desk and greets them before sliding into a chair beside the couch they are currently sitting on. "I hope I haven't interrupted anything,"
"Nothing that can't be rescheduled," Hermione responds, knowing that Draco won't. She smiles politely at the man in charge as she slips her hand into Draco's, who's now sitting forward with his elbows resting on his knees.
"Well thank you, both, for coming."
"The letter said it's about my father... What is it?" Draco asks shortly, just hoping to get it over with.
"During Lucius Malfoy's trial, he was sentenced to solitary confinement in Azkaban. Recently however, it seems that it's costing the Ministry more time and money to keep him alive…"
Draco sucks in a shaky breath at the Ministers words and hangs his head with his eyes closed. Hermione tightens her grip on his hand in reassurance and support but it feels numb to him.
"I wanted to tell you myself that the courts have decided to execute him," the Minister finishes.
The blond lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding before he swallows the snitch sized lump in his throat. "When?"
"One week from today."
Draco nods, staring at the floor to avoid the gazes of his girlfriend and the minister. The only thing he feels is an overwhelming need to drink something alcoholic. Anything alcoholic. He doesn't feel sad, or angry and heartbroken. He doesn't feel much of anything, not like he should anyway. Not the way he thinks he should.
"Draco..?" Hermione whispers.
"I'm fine." He pushes himself to his feet, shoving his hands through his hair as he starts to pace back and forth behind the couch.
"If there's anything you want or need Mr. Malfoy, don't hesitate to ask-"
"I don't need anything."
"Do you need water, or-" Hermione starts, but doesn't finish, as he interrupts her.
"I said I'm fine!" He's shaking now, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides as he continues to pace back and forth. His breathing is beginning to get shallow and uneven.
"Drake you need to calm down, please…" she trails off.
"Don't tell me what to do," he snaps.
"I understand this is difficult for you-" the Minister starts-
"It's not difficult," the blonde mutters.
"I'm...afraid I don't understand."
"Yeah...I wouldn't expect you to."
Hermione is on her feet now too, trying to calm him down physically but he continues to pace, shrugging her off at every turn. "Draco-"
"I have to go." He leaves then, before either Hermione or Kingsley could stop him, apparating on the spot into thin air. He doesn't have a destination in mind; nowhere to go.
X
The first place Hermione goes after leaving the Minister to his paperwork, is to the Burrow. By the time she arrives, lunch is done and everyone is gathered in the living room talking and joking and she's trying really, really hard not to cry. Ginny is the first to notice her standing in the doorway with watery brown eyes and a panicked-like look on her face. The youngest Weasley jumps to her feet then and envelopes Hermione in a hug. "What in the world is wrong?"
"Yes, where's Draco?" Molly wonders.
"I dunno…" she whispers, sniffing back tears.
"Well, he's okay isn't he?" the mother asks, looking just as worried as the brunette feels.
"I dunno…"
"'Mione? Tell us what happened, what did Kingsley want?" Ron asks calmly.
Ginny walks her to the couch and she sits down, sniffing back tears and struggling not to let them fall.
"Hermione.." Harry whispers, sitting next to her to rub her back.
"Lucius Malfoy is being executed a week from today…"
"He's in solitary confinement, why would they execute him?" Arthur wonders.
"The courts have decided that it's costing more money to keep him alive as opposed to just...killing him."
"And Draco...is he..?" Molly asks, trailing off.
"He kept saying he was fine and that he didn't need anything but...I know him. And I know what the look in his eyes means. He's...he's going to find alcohol," she whimpers, choking on the last word.
"You don't know that," Ron says, although the tone in his voice indicates that he doesn't really believe it.
"Yes I do."
"He's been sober-"
"It doesn't matter!" She's on her feet now, pacing up and down and back and forth just like Draco had done earlier. "God, he's an alcoholic-it doesn't matter how long he's been sober! His whole world just got turned upside down back there...there's no way…I'm gonna lose him," she whispers sadly as a fresh wave of tears cascade their way down her cheeks. "This is gonna undo everything we've done-everything he's done. It's gonna destroy him."
"You don't know that," Ginny murmurs, trying to remain positive.
"I have to find him-"
"You need to calm down Hermione," Harry tells her softly.
"I can't, I have to find him-"
"Hermione, dear, just have a seat and I'll make you some tea," Molly offers.
"I don't want tea, I don't want to sit down, I want to find him before he makes a mistake," the brunette replies hastily.
"Where do you think he would go?" Ginny wonders.
"I dunno…"
"You know him better than anyone 'Mione. Where would he go?"
"I...I don't... Oh my god, the garden." Her eyes widen as she realizes the one place he would go. "The garden!"
"Which garden?" Ron asks, looking at her-along with everyone else-in confusion.
"His mothers."
X
Draco can't remember the last time he felt so free. He can't remember the last time he felt the familiar (delicious) sting of fire whiskey as it slid down his throat, or the warm fuzzy feeling he gets from his head to his toes. Actually that's a lie, he remembers the last time he felt so, quite well. And bloody hell, it feels amazing.
After leaving the Ministers office (and Hermione) he'd found himself in Diagon Alley, wandering aimlessly about, taking in the various glances and glares and whispers of the passer's by with ease. Before he could even register himself what he was doing he was walking around with an open bottle of fire whiskey, stumbling his way through the crowded street until he found an acceptable place to disapparate to his newly found destination. His Mother's garden.
He had spent a lot of time in this garden as a child, with his mother. When he was young he would just sit on a couple of the stone benches and watch her as she created beauty by magic. When he was old enough to practice magic he would help; he had his own section for a while, his mother called it 'Dragon's Garden'. She'd made a sign for it and everything. Her garden was hers. It was the one aspect of her life that she had control over (because Merlin knows that his father controlled everything else) and she never let anyone tell her otherwise. On more than one occasion Lucius had told her to let the elves take care of it, but she'd refused; Draco was glad for that. Her garden was made from love and affection and whenever Draco needed a safe place to hide this was where he would come. When his parents were fighting, when his father was hurting his mother, when his father's 'friends' (Death Eaters) would come for meetings in the study. He would come to the gardens, walk the different cobble stone paths and sit on the beautifully goblin carved benches and escape into a world that his mother had created. A world of love and compassion and beauty; a world away from darkness and hatred and evil.
This time is no different, except that it is. He still walks the paths-stumbles on the cobble stones with his bottle of fire whiskey clutched tightly in his hands. But there is no beauty. There is no love or compassion. The plants are dead and the weeds have grown in everywhere, taking over the gardens. There's an eery sort of loneliness and emptiness and if he didn't know that for a fact that he was in a garden, he'd think for sure that he was in a graveyard.
He senses her presence, and then smells her perfume before her sees her. And when he does, a huge smirk graces his features. "Well well well, you deserve an 'O' Granger, well done! And you brought back-up," slurs, noticing the friends behind her.
Hermione flinches upon hearing the alcohol in his voice and the sarcasm behind it. Ron, Harry and Ginny are silent behind her. Her eyes fall upon the half empty bottle of fire whiskey in his pale hand and she feels tears welling up in her eyes. "Draco please don't...please put the bottle down," she begs.
He smirks, bringing the rim of the bottle to his lips, his fingers wrapped around the neck as he tilts his head back and allows the liquid to slip down his throat easily. He doesn't even feel the burn.
"Draco.."
"You should've left when you had the chance Granger. You should've looked the other way, Merlin knows I gave you plenty of opportunities," he mutters.
"Draco please…" she whispers.
He closes his eyes, shaking his head as he takes another swig from the bottle. "What gave me away this time?"
"I-I know you."
"Hmmm not well enough it seems…"
"You don't know what you're talking about," she insists, taking a step towards him.
"Don't I? If you knew me at all-if you know what's good for you then you'll walk away now," he tells her, taking a step back.
"You know I won't."
"Why not? Huh? Why can't you just leave me alone? I was fine without-"
"You know that not true," she whispers.
"Maybe not by your know-it-all standards, but by everyone else's I was."
"Draco please...put the bottle down," she pleads softly. "I brought you a potion, just drink it and we can talk about this."
"Why, so you can 'save' me? In case you haven't figure it out yet little miss smarty pants, YOU CAN'T SAVE ME," he spits, his voice getting louder and louder with each syllable. "What do I have to do to get that through your thick skull?"
"Look, mate-"
"Mate? Don't 'mate' me, mate," the blonde snaps, glaring behind the woman in front of him at the redhead. "You don't even like me-you never have, so don't pretend that you give a damn about me!"
"I'm not pretending," Ron tells him. "And even if I was, I care about Hermione and she cares about you-"
"WHY? Why do any of you care? Why would you waste your time-surely you have better things to do than babysit someone like me, making sure I don't drink myself stupid and kill myself." He pauses, a smug sort of smirk playing on his lips. "Like I need to drink myself stupid to kill myself-"
"Please don't say that," Hermione whimpers. "Just...we care because we believe in you. We know who you are, who you really are-"
"The only thing you know Granger, is what I've allowed you to. You don't know me."
"Then help us to," Ginny says softly, stepping forward with confidence.
"Fine. You want to know me? FINE!" The blonde bellows, throwing his arms about wildly. Alcohol comes swishing out the bottle in his hand but he doesn't even notice. "The last time I stood here, in this very garden, was after my psychotic aunt tortured you," he slurs, pointing at the brunette crying and shaking her head in front of him. "After I watched her torture you and carve 'Mudblood' into you're pretty little arm. I stood there and did nothing-now what does that tell you? I'm a coward, that's what that tells you," he spits, his voice laced with disgust.
"Y-you were afraid-"
"And the time before that," he continues, ignoring her weak attempt to calm him down. "Two weeks before, when my father brought home a fifteen year old Muggle girl. She had blond hair and blue eyes and had nothing to do with the war and he raped and tortured her for hours. I listened to her scream at the top of her bloody lungs for hours. She begged me to help her, to let her go and I didn't...because I didn't want to get caught helping a Muggle who didn't even mean anything to me."
"It wasn't your fault-"
"And the time before that...after I watched a snake devour the Muggle Studies teacher from Hogwarts on my dining room table," he mutters.
"STOP IT!" Hermione screams, tears trickling nonstop down her cheeks. "Stop trying to give us reasons to hate you! Stop trying to make us not care, Draco..." She trails off, stepping towards him and looking up at him with hopeful eyes. "What...what happened to you, it wasn't your fault. You were just a kid and your father-"
"My father hated me." He snorts loudly, sarcastically and he knocks back another swig, breaking her heart. "I was his only son...his only heir. I did everything for him and he hated me. Nothing I did was ever good enough," he slurs, moving away from him. "No matter what grade I got, whether it was a fail or a pass his reaction was always the same. 'You can do better than hat son'. No matter what club I joined at school to make him proud, no matter what kind of feedback I got from the teachers...it was never good enough. I was always a letdown to him. His expectations were so high and no matter how hard I tried...I could never reach them. I could never reach him…"
"You have to stop blaming yourself," she whispers.
"Oh I don't blame me, I blame him. He ruined everything-my family, my life...my mother. If it weren't for him and his crazy obsession with Voldemort then she'd still be alive. He can burn in hell for all I care," he spits dangerously. He takes another swig, tilting his head so far back that it knocks him off balance and he stumbles backwards. Hermione reaches out to catch him, holding onto his arm to keep him from falling over himself. Something in his snaps them, worse than before, and his eyes cloud over with a darkness she's never seen before. "Get off me-DON'T touch me!" He shrugs her off, straightening himself out as he dusts the imaginary dirt off of his clothes. "You need to go. You need to stop this ridiculous hero act."
"No-"
"I mean it Hermione! Stop it," he demands.
"No."
"You don't get it do you? For someone who's so bloody smart, you're being awfully dumb Granger," he snaps. "I'm not who you think I am. I'm not this great guy you seem to think I am and I'm not the guy you can dress up and play house with."
She shakes her head in disbelief. "Draco.."
"How do you know I haven't been lying? Huh? How do you know I haven't been lying to you this whole time just to gain your sympathy?"
"B-because-"
"You don't."
"But you..." she trails off, squinting her eyes in concentration. The thought had never even crossed her mind. "You told me-"
"I know what I told you." Tears are streaming down her cheeks and he's aching to reach out and wipe them away. He wants so desperately to hold her and to tell her that he's lying and that she's right and that he's sorry but he can't. So instead he turns his back on her (on all of them). The distinct sound of four people apparating echoes in the garden he used to call home and he feels emptier than he's ever felt in his life. He takes a final swig of the fire whiskey, polishing off the large bottle easily, and tells himself that it's for the best.
It's for the best.
It's for the best.
It's for Hermione.