This Bitter Earth

by Ikorous

Control isn't the only thing Draco Malfoy has lost. But he will get it back. He will get everything bac

11. ELEVEN

Thank you everyone for bearing with me during the small break and leaving me wonderful and encouraging reviews! It means so much to me that so many people are interested in this story and are enjoying it. Seeing your reactions inspires me so much. I don't have an exact update schedule right now, but please know, I have no plans to abandon this and have about 19-21 chapters planned at the moment (depending on length).

I want to say a huge thank you to Tina, AdAsttra, for betaing this chapter for me and dealing with ALL of my questions and never complaining when I added a few extra thousand words and made her go back and read it again. I would also like to dedicate this chapter to Bree, mysweet_bree, for being such an amazing person and friend and I hope she enjoys this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

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Soundtrack- "Body" by SYML

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ELEVEN

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"You need to stay in the cage tonight."

Hermione's head shot up. "No!"

Draco wasn't looking at her when he said, "Get on the bed."

She closed her book and tucked it under her arm as she folded them across her chest. "Just because I refused to sleep with you doesn't mean you get to lock me up. You promised-"

"I didn't promise you shit," Draco snarled, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Hermione was a little taken aback by his sudden harshness with her. Over the last week Draco has mostly avoided her, and their room. Theirs, because even though she had refused to let him back in the bed, Draco had not vacated. He spent his nights sprawled on the chaise and every time Hermione woke up from one of her nightmares she saw him in a new position, tightly clasping the fur blanket to him.

He wasn't the only one with dark circles under his eyes anymore.

"I never agreed to stop using the cage or the chain. And I will strap you down tonight if you don't get your ass on the bed right NOW!"

Hermione stood her ground. Her legs were shaking and there was no hiding them, but she kept her eyes locked on Draco's steely gaze until he rubbed his hand over his face and groaned in aggravation.

"There are people coming tonight. I don't think they'll come upstairs, let alone be able to get in here, but if they do…" He cast his eyes down to the foot of the bed. "The cage will keep you safe."

"It will keep me trapped."

Draco cut his gaze back to her so quickly Hermione would have missed it if she blinked. "Is it so bad? Being here, with me?"

Her heart gave a heavy thump in her chest. No. Yes. No. It beat again and this time, it hurt.

"I don't like being cooped up."

His expression was unreadable, but it didn't stop Hermione from searching across every feature of his face. Angled cheeks carving their way across skin as white as porcelain and just as smooth. His nose was long and straight, nostrils slightly flared as he took a breath. His brows hung heavily over his eyes, casting them in shadow and making the silver of them gleam even brighter because of it. His lips were pressed together, turned down in a frown. She wished she could see him smile again.

"I'll make this up to you."

"How?" Hermione asked sarcastically. "A new dress?"

Draco's eyes fell to her body and ran down the length of it. Without him saying a word or even making a single movement, she felt like she knew exactly what he was thinking of. Or maybe it was just her. She brought her legs a little closer together, her knees knocking against each other, and her movement seemed to break his train of thought.

But not hers. Hermione could feel the blush staining her cheeks with proof that the sordid thoughts were not just in his head, but hers as well.

She lifted the book up and against her chest, hugging it tightly. "Don't worry about it," she snapped. "There isn't anything I want that you could give me."

She had dealt her latest blow in their ongoing battle. It was the most she could do while she was still wandless, but Draco hardly even seemed to react to her harsh words, merely spreading his arm out in an invitation to the bed. Hermione sat the book upon it before climbing in herself, pulling her skirt down as far as it would go.

Draco came to stand beside her and ran his hand up the post of the bed, eyeing the empty spot next to her. For the briefest moment, she was tempted to offer it to him. Maybe he was right, maybe this is all they could have in the new world. She hadn't heard a single scrap of news about Harry or Ron, or any of the Order really, even when she scoured every copy of the Daily Prophet Draco brought her over and over, feeling worried and relieved all in one at the lack of news.

If Harry was dead, it would be plastered across the front page.

This was the mantra she repeated to herself when her throat felt too tight and her eyes filled with tears she would quickly blink away. She had to be strong. Had to fight, even if she was stuck here. It wasn't over.

There was still hope.

There was still Harry.

Hermione sat her book back on her lap. She would have about another hour before it got too dark to read and she would have no choice but to lay here and wait on Draco to return.

"I will make this up to you," he said softly, almost… kind.

Hermione looked up to see him watching her, his brows taut as if he was trying to say more. She waited. Hopeful that something else might follow.

His dark wand cut in between them and the iron bars of the cage slid up and locked into place with a loud clang that reverberated inside her chest, disrupting the rhythm of her heart. Draco grabbed onto one of the bars and gave it a quick tug.

"I-" Draco stopped, and tightened his mouth. "I have something for you."

Hermione was surprised at the withered, moldy grey hand outstretched towards her. A Hand of Glory. Harry had told her that he thought Draco had one during one of his rants last year. Godric, why hadn't she listened more closely? But the draw of Draco had already been so strong, even then and she had never been able to stay away. No matter what he did, what he said, she had always come back and let him call her even filthier names and do even dirtier things to her. And she had loved it. Every single time.

How soon would it be before she went back to him this time? A month? Next week?

Tonight?

"I didn't think about the light when I'm not here," Draco said stiffly. "I'll fix them when I get back." Then he added, "I didn't know you were in the dark this whole time."

Hermione reached out and gently took the Hand, doing her best not to touch the waxy skin. "T-thank you."

For the briefest moment their fingers touched and Hermione was tempted to latch onto him instead of the wooden base. To beg him to stay with her instead of going to whatever Death Eater meeting was being held downstairs tonight.

He'd said all of the things he had done were her fault, so maybe… she was the one who could stop him from doing them too.

Hermione sat the Hand on top of the book next to her and bit her lip, hard, to stop herself from asking him to stay. She knew he wouldn't. He had a Master to serve and she… she had a job to do too.

Draco nodded stiffly in response and paused only long enough to unlock the door before shutting it behind him again. Hermione could hear the magical locks sliding into place, the wards weaving themselves over the handle, and the wood sealing itself against intruders. She had watched and listened to it so many times she knew his exact method and pattern.

Hermione took a deep breath and opened the book again, paging through to find where she had left off, reading the thick ink at the top of the page- "Chapter Eight- Wandless Magic."

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Draco stared at the body. The body in his cellar. The dead body.

His Uncle.

No. Not his Uncle. This was a Muggleborn- fuck, no- a Mudblood. This was not his family. He had only ever met the man once and that was just to break into his house, torture his wife and threaten his daughter. Draco had barely paid attention to Ted Tonks in his pursuit of Granger and now the dead man's body was all he could see.

Cold acid crept up his throat. He really hated dead people.

Really fucking hated them.

He vaguely heard the pleas of the man the others were chaining to the wall, but it was when the Dark Lord descended the stairs that Draco's attention was finally pulled from the still form of his Uncle splayed on the stone floor and to the man who he called Master.

The prisoner began to tremble so violently that the chains rattled, and Draco cringed at the all-too-familiar sound. What would he be doing now if he hadn't chained Granger to the bed? Would he be upstairs, tangled in her arms and plunging himself inside of her?

No. He'd still be here because his Master had summoned him. Granger might have his heart, but the Dark Lord had long since laid claim to his soul.

"Lucius, I would like you to meet your new houseguest."

Draco watched his Father stand up straight, only to have his shoulders lurch forward as he fought the urge to cower. The Dark Lord's lip curled at the sight of his once-favored Death Eater. There was a time when Draco thought his Father was second only in power to the Dark Lord himself. Because of that he had strived and worked tirelessly to prove himself worthy of bearing the Malfoy name.

He had been competing against a spectre. There wasn't much more life left in his Father's body than there was his Uncle's beside him.

"I- I am honored, My Lord." Lucius bowed his head and Draco could see silver streaks in his hair even in the dim light of the cellar. Weak.

"Yes, I'm sure you're very pleased to have a wandmaker under your roof. Though I did not bring him here for you." The Dark Lord's tone was harsh and the two hooded Death Eaters who had secured Ollivander to the wall laughed darkly.

Lucius paled and retreated backwards to hover beside a torch on the wall, as if its light would protect him somehow.

Draco looked away. Of course. Bellatrix had said she would tell the Dark Lord of his progress and he had been impressed with Draco's work before. Lord Voldemort might have addressed Lucius first, but Draco knew why he had brought Ollivander here. There was no use waiting, not when it was inevitable. Gripping his wand in his hand, he approached the Dark Lord. "Master, how can I serve you?"

Those blood red eyes landed on him and instantly he felt the intrusion in his mind. Draco barely had time to react before Lord Voldemort was glossing over his recent memories. His marble walls cracked and shook as the Dark Lord snaked through his mind and Draco could practically feel him searching for something, like a snake flicking its tongue out.

If the Dark Lord was looking for answers, Draco could give them to him. Meetings with the wolves about hunting Potter, nights searching old farm houses, empty stretches of roads, and frost covered woods. Training with Theo, dueling, fighting, and running. Breaking into McLaggen's house, torturing him and rifling through his mind the same way Lord Voldemort was his. The green light flashed again and Draco couldn't help but recoil as the image of another dead body faded from his mind.

"You have been busy."

"Yes, My Lord."

"And yet have still failed to bring me Potter." The cold disappointment in his voice was almost tangible and Draco could feel his rage simmering just under the surface.

"You will have him, My Lord. I am close."

"You are failing!" he hissed, the slits of his nostrils flaring. "I have spared enough mercy on your family already."

Draco stiffened. If Lord Voldemort brought his wrath down on Malfoy Manor, Granger would be in danger again. He had worked so hard to keep her safe, he wasn't about to let some mangy-haired, scarred up piece of shit ruin it all for him.

Even if he didn't really want to have to add Potter to the list of dead faces that haunted him at night. Still, rather him than Granger.

Draco was so distracted by his own thoughts that he had barely noticed the Dark Lord had moved to stand in front of Ollivander. It was the old man's wheezing breath and pitiful cries that pulled him from his catalogue of grey glazed eyes and bloodless faces.

"I've told you everything I know! Please! I just want to go home."

There was something sickening about watching the ancient man beg for such a simple request. He was skin and bones and from the look of it, several of those bones had been broken. His robes were hanging off thin shoulders, dirtied and unwashed. Draco should have been disgusted by his appearance, swallow skin, shaking hands, and patchy hair on his loose jowls, but instead he felt… pity.

It was cold down here and as pained, panicked breaths left Ollivander's frail chest, they turned into small puffs of fog in front of his face before they slid away into the chilled air. Who knew what kind of conditions the wandmaker had been kept in before, or why the Dark Lord was so displeased with him to bring him here, now?

Because there was only one reason the Dark Lord would bring a prisoner to Malfoy Manor. And that reason was him.

"You know Draco Malfoy, don't you, Ollivander?"

Ollivander looked up at him with opalescent eyes. "Yes…" he breathed out in barely more than a whisper and dropped his gaze to the wand at Draco's side and chanted "Hawthorn, ten inches, unicorn hair core."

Draco didn't like someone looking at his wand like that and pressed it flush against his leg. Ollivander's attention drifted up to his face again.

"Are you going to kill me, Draco Malfoy, hawthorn, ten inches, unicorn hair core?"

Draco's throat closed, stopping the breath in it. Would he? If Lord Voldemort commanded it, would he kill this scrap of a man in front of him? Could he?

"You are too valuable to throw away so quickly, Ollivander," the Dark Lord answered for him and Draco's chest barely moved as air flowed into it again. He pressed his lips together, wondering why his mouth was so dry and tasted slightly of sick. "But you are no use to me if you are not cooperative and Draco can be very… persuasive."

Draco heard his Mother gasp from somewhere far behind him. Although she didn't have the mark, she had been called down here as a member of the Malfoy family. He wondered if the Dark Lord liked the idea of making his parents watch their son as he tortured someone. He didn't want his Mother to see him do this. She knew, and that was bad enough already. She didn't need to see it.

But Draco could not disobey.

He raised his wand and Ollivander went back to his chant of "Hawthorn, ten inches, unicorn hair core," as he stared at the tip of the wand and waited for the curse to expel from it.

Draco snarled the word he was growing to hate and the red stream of light hit Ollivander in the middle of his chest. Draco heard a rib break. And then another as the old man writhed and wheezed in pain on the cold stone floor.

He shouldn't be doing this. It was sick. Cracking the old man's ribs with a torture curse for no other reason than he was told to. Any other time he had used it had been for her, because of her. This was… wrong. Draco did not get the slithering sensation of satisfaction he always had as he watched his quarry cry below him.

But he didn't have a choice!

If he stopped now, he would have to explain himself and most likely feel the Dark Lord's own curse in response. And if the Dark Lord broke into his mind again he might not be able to hide the images of Granger in his arms away.

As he pictured her, the curse faltered and failed. Draco was stunned. He had never dropped a cruciatus before. Not even in training. Ever since the first time the blood red light shot out of his wand, he had been able to hold it, control it, keep it.

Ollivander was gasping on the floor, doing his best to curl up but hardly able to move due to the aftershocks still rocking across his thin body. Draco wasn't sure how much the old man had left in him. The next curse might finish him off and the Dark Lord had said he wanted him alive.

"I- I can't make your wand more powerful!" Ollivander cried, the wrinkles on his face caked with dirt from the floor. "No wand can rival the-"

"Draco."

"Crucio."

He struck again. Draco felt the power slide down his arm and into his wand, and then… he pulled it back. The light still hit Ollivander and he groaned weakly in pain, but Draco kept the level to one of severe muscle cramps. The wandmaker was feeble enough that even the attenuated curse left him crying on the floor. While Draco pulled the rest of the dark magic back up his wand, and into his own arm.

His muscles clenched tightly and Draco ground his teeth together. It wasn't at full force, but he was bearing the weight of the curse so the old man didn't have to. Fucking hell, it hurt. It had been weeks since he had last cursed himself and although the pain wasn't something he had forgotten, it wasn't as fresh in his memory as it had been before. He could feel his veins straining under his skin as the blood fought to beat within them.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He didn't know how much more he could take; Ollivander either. It was almost too dark to tell in the shadowy cellar, but he was pretty sure the color was fading from his vision. Ollivander's shirt had been blue before, not grey. He couldn't tell. Couldn't remember. Even trying to think hurt and his arm began to shake as a bead of sweat broke out on his brow and slipped down his face.

"I feel this was a proper welcome to your new accomodations."

Draco had never been happier to hear the high, hissing voice of the Dark Lord more than he was in that moment. He broke the curse, doing his best to stay on his feet and not tumble face forward onto the ground next to Ollivander. His arm was twitching, itching like a thousand pincers were trying to claw their way out from the inside.

"Enjoy your stay, Ollivander. I will make sure that the Malfoys, Draco in particular, provide you with everything you require while you are here." Lord Voldemort turned away from the broken man on the floor like he was nothing more than an old rag.

Draco glanced back down and saw Ollivander looking up at him with something akin to smile. He was missing teeth and blood coated his lips. Draco's stomach turned over and he had to fight his reflex to gag as Ollivander's mouth widened.

"Hawthorn," he said in a garbled voice. "Hawthorn… backfires."

"Shut up," Draco mumbled and turned back around. The sight that awaited him was not that much better. His Mother had moved forward to inspect the body of Ted Tonks and sharply turned towards her husband with a strange expression on her face.

"Lucius, get that body out of here. I don't want to smell it rotting when I return," the Dark Lord commanded, as he mounted the stairs and quickly ascended them.

Lucius had only just started forward towards the body when Draco found himself speaking in a low commanding voice. "Don't."

He stepped forward and his Mother quickly glanced between him and his Father, her eyes moving while the rest of her stayed perfect still.

"I'll take care of it."

His Father cleared his throat. "The Dark Lord ordered me-"

"I said," Draco moved between his Father and the body. "I will take care of it. Why don't you go have another bottle of wine, Lucius."

He watched the rage battle in his Father's pale grey eyes, so close to the color of death already and Draco knew, right then, that one day he would look into his Father's eyes and see the glaze of decay staring back at him.

Lucius sneered at him and spat on the floor next to the body. Draco didn't move a muscle, he just stood there and glared back at the man he once respected but now could barely stand to look at. He had done this. He had done this to their family. Had failed the Dark Lord and made his son take his place. Had ignored his wife and son in favor of a man who didn't give a shit about any of them. Had taken the mark to gain power and fortune and was pissing it all away out of their vaults as quickly as he could.

Fucking washed up, weak asshole who couldn't even fucking stay sober, even though he knew his wife hated it. Who had hit his son for asking questions and yelled at his wife when she didn't collect him fast enough. Draco wasn't a little boy anymore and Lucius… Lucius wasn't anything anymore.

Nothing. Useless.

Lucius paused at the base of the stairs and twisted his head over his shoulder. "Narcissa!"

Draco looked at his Mother who seemed half-caught in horror. Of course she was. She just saw her beloved son torture an innocent man in front of her. She had said she was worried for him, but there was no need to be anymore.

She knew what he was now.

He couldn't look at her anymore. Couldn't bear to see the pain on her face at what her only child had become. Just a more fucked up version of his Father.

She moved to Lucius' side and together they walked upstairs, leaving Draco alone in the dark with the person he just tortured and the dead body of his Uncle.

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Draco didn't bother knocking on the door to his Father's study.

Lucius was pouring a glass of wine and spilled a little over the side at Draco's sudden appearance.

He didn't wait to be invited further in, but strode forward throwing himself down in one of the chairs and propping his leg up over the arm.

"You asked to see me?"

Lucius frowned at his son and dabbed at the spilled wine on the glass before picking it up and taking a large gulp of it. Draco noticed the bottle was empty. He had gotten to the party late.

"I've been waiting almost an hour for you."

Draco shrugged. "I was working."

"Oh yes," his Father's words slid easily out of his mouth in a way Draco had heard many times before. "Your little snatching business."

"I'm hunting Potter."

"By getting drunk with Thad's son? Yes, I am sure that will lead you right to the most wanted person in Britain."

Draco glared at his Father. "At least I can summon my own drinks." He flicked his wand and a bottle of fire whisky soared over from the collection of bottles along the wall. Popping the cork from it, he raised it up in a mock salute before tipping it back.

Shit, it was good to have a drink again.

Lucius turned away and pulled another bottle of dark red wine down off the wall and Draco glanced around at the mounted heads of different animals that lined the walls. Stags, boars, and wolves scattered around in between creatures of more magical origins.

Lucius was a skilled hunter and prized himself on his kills, traveling far in order to have the luxury of hunting rare and dangerous prey. A wampus cat with bared teeth, a re'em with sharpened golden horns, a hodag whose fangs glinted in the firelight, and a griffin with its beak open with a sharp pointed tongue poised midair, all adorned with gems replacing their eyes. Draco looked away, choosing instead to focus on a set of large feathered wings from one of Lucius' childhood horses spread out over the wall behind his desk.

It was more a trophy room than an office and Draco was wrinkled his nose at the variety of dead animals' jeweled eyes gazing down at him from high on the walls. Drinking quickly to dissuade the eerily chill creeping through him. Wasn't there enough death out there? Did his Father really have to bring it into their home too?

At least he hadn't started mounting human heads on the walls. Merlin knows what his Father would have done with Ted Tonks' body if Draco hadn't buried it.

Lucius settled himself behind the desk and placed a crystal tumbler in front of Draco. "Do try to uphold the family image instead of looking like a drunk on the streets of Knockturn Alley, will you?"

Draco sneered at him as he poured a generous amount of fire whisky into the glass. "As you wish, Father."

Lucius tented his fingers, narrowing his light grey eyes that were rimmed with red and stood out in his pale face.

Draco stared back over the top of his drink as the fire crackled, spitting a little ember onto the hearth that quickly faded and died.

"I went to Gringotts today," Lucius finally said.

"Emptied another vault?"

"They said you changed your will."

Draco tapped his Malfoy ring against the rim of his glass. Wizarding wills were magically protected, each kept locked in a warded room below Gringotts. They were under strict enchantments not to be opened until the death of the bearer. It was an ordeal to amend the terms on them, especially since most of the Pureblood wills were written in cursed ink with conditions that couldn't be changed, but Draco was clever enough to choose wording that did not go against the traditions of his family, yet still ensured the outcome he would need to provide her with.

If Granger knew the contents, she would probably slit his throat in his sleep.

Draco took another drink and pulled his lips back over his teeth. "What of it?"

"As your Father, and the head of the Malfoy family," Lucius craned his neck, pale eyes sharply prying into Draco's. "I feel I have the right to know what you are planning on doing with the inheritance I will one day leave you with."

Draco sniffed loudly. "I have accumulated a few new assets. I merely was putting into place instructions as to what is to be done with them in case of my untimely death. We are at war, Father," he drawled sarcastically.

"I set up that will for you when you were three years old. It is the same as my own. All Malfoy possessions and properties will pass to your trueborn heir-"

Draco slammed the glass down, whisky sloshing over the side onto the leather topper of his Father's desk. "And what if I don't want an heir?"

Lucius' eyes widened, the red lids pulling back. "Don't want an heir?"

"What am I to leave him anyway?" Draco threw himself back against the chair. "A house that is actually a prison, a dozen empty vaults, and a crippling addiction to alcohol?"

His Father's voice was soft but stern, "Things will be different once the Dark Lord has triumphed. They will be as they should have been all along."

"Things were fine before," Draco murmured into his drink, tossing it back and immediately refilling it much to his Father's chagrin. But it wasn't long before Lucius poured out more wine for himself either. It seemed neither one of them could face the other sober.

"Why did you do it?" Draco asked softly. "What did you get us in this mess? What's the point of having an heir? It's not like he needs more Death Eaters."

Lucius frowned. "Draco, by this point I would have hoped you'd learned what being a Malfoy means. You are the product of centuries of elite breeding. You do not get to decide that the lives of every Malfoy who came before you mean nothing by letting our line die."

"Is that what I am to you? A continuation of a bloodline? An obligation your Father forced upon you?"

"I long ago accepted what was required of me and I too gave up things I desired to carry on the Malfoy name."

"A great lot you've done with it," Draco snorted. "Fucking sold yourself off to a tyrant who uses our name for his own gain and uses you like a goddamn puppet. Your Father must be as proud of you as you are me."

"My Father served the Dark Lord with his life and his death!" Lucius shouted. "So when the time came for me to take the mark it wasn't a choice, Draco. It was a gift; an honor to pledge-"

"But you were free!" Draco nearly jumped from his chair. "Your Father was dead! You could have done anything- anything you wanted! Why would you sell your soul into slavery when you had a life to live?"

Lucius finished off his wine with a shaking hand. Draco hadn't seen him this bad off since they first returned from the island villa. His hair was thinning, receding back to make his face even more pointed than it had been. Draco watched as his Father pursed his wine stained lips, making a fine white line around the deep red.

"That is precisely why," Lucius answered in a cutting tone. "The best way to further my interests was to align myself with the Dark Lord."

"Really paid off for you when he let you rot in Azkaban for a year and nearly died. Tell me, do you think he would have come for you then?"

"Do not speak of the Dark Lord in this manner!" Lucius hissed, quaking with rage. "You are bordering on treason, my boy!"

Draco felt a frigid acid eating away at his spine. He downed another glass, but even the warmth of the liquor did nothing to dispel the coldness taking hold of him. He stood up, glaring down icily at his Father below him.

Lucius had never looked so small before.

"And what are you going to do about it, old man?"

His wand was in his hand and he watched his Father's eyes dart down to it and then back up to him.

"I will disown you. I will take away your inheritance so there is nothing for you to squander away in your own will!" Lucius bellowed, emboldened by the second bottle of wine. "I will strip the Malfoy name from you if you do not honor it!"

Draco glowered back at him, the poison in his veins corroding away any sense of familial loyalty to the ruined mess sitting behind his Father's desk.

"Fuck the Malfoy name."

Draco slammed the silver signet ring of the Malfoy family down on the desk and left without another word.

.

Hermione woke up to a dark room. Draco hadn't opened the curtains before he left. They hadn't spoken much in the past week, existing in each other's spaces, but not interacting any more than was necessary. Some days he laid on the chaise and barely moved. He would spend hours reading The Sacred Twenty-Eight and Hermione would watch as he scrawled notes in it.

Other days he was gone for long hours and she would use the opportunity to test out simple spells. She held out her hand until her arm ached trying to levitate a quill and when she finally got it to hover in the air for five seconds Hermione let out a whoop of joy. She jumped off the bed and twirled around, throwing her hands wide and then hugging herself before letting her body sink down to the floor where she laid, trying to catch her breath.

It was then that Draco returned, locking the door behind him, the leather of his boots creaking slightly as he made his way across the room to where Hermione was laying. She tilted her head back, looking up to see his boots level with her eyes. Her chest was rising and falling as she moved her gaze up over the long length of his body to meet his mildly bemused expression.

"Did you fall, Granger?" He looked like he was about to laugh at her.

Even Draco's teasing wasn't enough to sour her good mood and Hermione rolled over onto her stomach and pushed herself up to sit with her legs crossed.

Draco stuck his hands in his pockets and raised a brow.

"No."

He smirked. "Then get your ass up and get dressed."

Hermione eyed him warily. "Why?"

Draco turned and walked towards the wardrobe, opening it up and pulling out a long garment bag. He waved his wand over it to reveal a gown of bruised crimson with a beaded neckline. Hermione wasn't sure she had ever seen a dress so fine that wasn't in one of the magazines her parents kept in the waiting room at their offices. Normal people didn't wear things like that, but… Draco's people did.

"There's a necklace and earrings on the bureau," he said, pointing to the dresser. "I'll give you an hour before I come back."

Hermione scrambled to her feet. "Come back for what?"

Draco smirked at her, his grey eyes dark and playful. "Didn't you say you wanted out of the room?" His hand landed on the handle of the door. "We could always stay in, if you'd prefer."

Out. Out out out. Draco was taking her out.

Hermione could hardly believe it and had the sudden urge to run to him and wrap her arms around his neck. She took a step forward and stopped, balancing on the balls of her feet and bit her lip.

Draco's grin widened at her apparent excitement and he left her to get dressed. As soon as he was gone, Hermione rushed to get ready. She didn't even care that it was another outfit Draco had picked out because it was actual clothes. Well, an evening gown, but still more than the slips and lace he had provided her with since her arrival here.

She pulled off the small white dress and tossed it to the floor. Hermione looked in the mirror for a moment and was surprised at the girl looking back at her. Her curls were long, twisting down to cover her breasts. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks were brushed with tints of red from her physical expression of her joy. But there was something missing; she wasn't quite herself. Hermione traced the spot on her inner thigh where Draco's mark had hidden and… missed it.

Maybe she should have kept it, as a reminder. Maybe it would help her to remember that Draco could be the man she wanted him to be. And she wanted him so much. Every night was harder without Draco beside her and on the days he left her alone for sixteen hours straight she found herself glancing at the door wondering, hoping, wishing, he would come back.

Hermione let the dress fall down around her. There were dark beads sewn into it that shifted, making a little noise as she twisted and turned in front of the full length mirror. It was certainly nothing she would have ever picked out for herself, but she had to admit that it was gorgeous.

Draco had even left her a pair of precariously tall heels, the same deep color as the dress and Hermione gently slid her feet into them. She rarely wore heels, always thinking they were never worth the pain and hassle of trying to balance on stilts, but she found that these molded perfectly to her feet, providing support and comfort as she took a few steps, testing them out.

Magic. Draco had given her magic shoes. She wondered how much they had cost as she lifted the skirt of the gown to admire them. All of this, just for her? Not to mention the jewelry he had left her on the dresser.

Her eyes went wide at the sight of them. Dripping diamond earrings and a delicate matching necklace that laid on her collar bones. The light caught the brilliance of the jewels and let her face up from underneath as she fastened it around her neck. The last item was a large ruby pin, surrounded by swirls of silver and heavy enough that Hermione felt like she needed to cradle it with both hands.

A knock came at the door and she nearly dropped it when Draco stuck his head inside.

"Are you-" he froze in the doorway.

Hermione quickly set the pin down and tucked her loose curls behind her ears.

Draco didn't say a word as he made his way over to her. He had changed too and now wore a set of crisp black and white dress robes, perfectly cut and tailored to his slim, but athletic build. She had seen him in his white short sleeve shirts or his black leather breastplate so often that she was almost stunned into silence to see him in anything else. Especially not anything like this.

"You look beautiful," he murmured, reaching out to fix a curl that had jumped free, but stopped. He balled his hand into a fist and returned it to his side.

Hermione fixed it for him instead, almost wishing he had broken her rule on touching, just this once. There wasn't much she could do with her hair without having any way to tie it back and she thought it almost a shame that the earrings were hidden in the thick mass of curls that surrounded her.

"You could have given me some hair pins."

"You could have tried to stab me with them."

Hermione rolled her eyes and Draco shrugged as if he believed she might have actually tried it.

"The broach," he said, picking up the ruby pin from the dresser and unclasping it with skilled fingers. Draco looked back at her. "May I?"

She could hardly breathe, let alone talk, and just nodded her head mutely. Draco took in a low breath and reached out to fasten the pin, or the broach, whatever it was, under her breasts. Hermione watched him work. He was careful not to let his fingers graze the underside of her breasts and when she took a deeper breath to push her chest forward, Draco snapped it into place and pulled his hands back like he was scared of being burned.

His white blond hair was perfectly coiffed, pushed back on the left without a single strand out of place. He had shaved and the sharp cut of his jaw was even more pronounced, his eyes mere rings of silver around black depths she could never quite peer past.

"Shall we?" he purred and Hermione pulled her hair, twisting it all to lie on one shoulder, and nodded.

Draco turned to walk her out of the room, but stopped her at the doorway, sticking his arm out in front of her and gripping the door frame with strong fingers.

"You're not thinking of doing anything stupid now, are you, Sweetheart?"

Though his tone was patronizing, Draco looked surprisingly nervous. His eyes were searching hers and Hermione felt trapped in his gaze now that he was giving her a small glimpse behind the marble walls he hid behind. It was him, her Draco- angry and nervous, but him all the same.

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Don't you trust me?"

Draco gave her a wry smile, working his jaw before letting it drop and Hermione had her answer. No. Draco didn't trust her anymore. The realization of that was heavier than the broach hanging from her dress. She should have known, should have expected it, but looking into his eyes, she watched the shining silver turn into hard granite before he blinked it away and removed his arm from in front of her. He waved it widely to guide her out of his bedroom.

She had expected a hall or corridor but instead walked right into what must have been Draco's study.

It was just as large as his bedroom and the first thing Hermione took note of were the large double doors on the other side of the room. So, his bedroom led straight into here instead of a hall or corridor. Another barrier she would have to make it through.

The second thing she noticed were all the books. Draco wasn't joking when he said he could give her a library; he had the beginnings of one right here. Two of the long walls were covered in shelves of almost pristine looking books mixed in with an assortment of artifacts, sculptures, and something that looked strangely like a miniature dragon's skull. But her eyes went back to the volumes and tomes that lined most of the space and she found herself drifting towards them unconsciously.

"If you see any you want," he said from behind her, "they're yours."

Any other time she would have been thrilled at the prospect of having so many books to peruse and read, but this felt like a bribe. Hermione looked back at Draco who was watching her carefully, expression almost perfectly controlled. Except for the small crease between his slightly furrowed brows. Anxious.

Draco was nervous.

He broke their gaze and opened one of the large doors, sweeping it out into the hall. Hermione had to stop herself from running through it. She didn't think the magic in the heels was enough to keep her from breaking her ankle if she fell and she didn't fancy having to lay up in bed again. Although, that might mean Draco would bring Blaise back and she could talk to him about the outside world or maybe even try to convince him to help her get out of here.

But Hermione didn't have any more time to formulate a plan because Draco was already leading her down the hall. She had never been in this part of the house before, but it felt eerily familiar as she walked over the soft rug and watched glass lamps grow brighter as they approached, lighting up panelled walls.

"Ignore the portraits," Draco murmured.

"Stand up straight! You are a Malfoy, boy!" One shouted and Draco rolled his eyes, hunching his shoulders.

"What sort of gown is that?" A woman sneered from the other side of the hall. Hermione's head turned to see a large woman with a three foot white wig piled high on top of her head glare back at her. "Harlot."

Draco flicked his wand and the portrait went crashing to the ground, cracking the frame.

"Your Father will hear about this!" she shrieked and her wig went tumbling to reveal a patchy, balding head underneath.

"Be careful on the stairs," he warned and Hermione saw they were at the top of a wide staircase, leading down to an open foyer below.

She picked up her dress and carefully chose her steps as she descended, heels clicking and echoing around her.

Draco waited at the bottom for her and she noticed his arm jumped a little, as if he was going to offer it to her but then thought better of it. She said nothing, but knew that if he had, she would have taken it.

Hermione knew Malfoy Manor was large, but she didn't know it was like this. She was overwhelmed by the magnitude and sheer enormity of it as Draco continued on, leading her into a brightly lit room lit with cascading crystal chandeliers hovering over a long table already laid out with more dishes than she could count.

Draco pulled out a chair for her and Hermione sat down, too stunned to do anything else. He took his own seat and the table came to life as the dishes began to serve themselves. The gentle clinking utensils against the dishes filled the otherwise empty air between them, A ginger glazed salmon filet, roast carrots and sprouts with a dark, rich sauce drizzled and topped with chopped nuts, and a thick, creamy risotto all filled her plate as a steaming roll sliced and buttered itself in front of her.

Hermione was almost scared to touch it—any of it . She had almost given up hope that Draco would fulfil his promise of letting her into his study, but he had gone above and beyond anything she could have imagined. The dress, the jewels, the food, the… everything.

What was this?

He had warned her for weeks now how dangerous it was for her outside his bedroom, but here he was, parading her around and treating her to a dinner that was worthy of royalty. She knew Draco well enough to know that he didn't give something like this without expecting something of equal or greater value in return. And Hermione only had one thing he wanted.

"Granger, don't make me charm the silverware to feed you too," Draco said in exasperation.

Hermione took her hands from her lap and picked up her fork. "No, I just-" He looked over at her, expression carefully guarded. "Why are you doing this?"

Draco cut into his food. "We can go back to the room if you're more comfortable there."

"No!" she quickly corrected and wasn't sure if the pull of his mouth was in amusement, annoyance, or… if he just didn't like the salmon.

"Then eat," Draco growled and then added under his breath, "please."

Hermione decided to behave herself and tried a bit of the risotto. It was one of the best things she had ever had in her mouth. Rich and creamy with a hint of citrus and herbs. Normally she picked around at the food Draco gave her, mostly just to bother him, but she was having a hard time not devouring everything in sight tonight.

She ate almost everything on her plate other than the sprouts and was starting on the roll when she noticed Draco watching her.

"Do you not like brussel sprouts?" he asked, a little amused.

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Just… not my taste."

"Hmm." He took a drink. "I'll remember that."

"Planning on doing this every night?" She heard the levity in her own voice and watched Draco react to it. She couldn't help it. Despite the larger situation, Hermione was enjoying herself. She didn't normally like getting all dressed up, but just being out of the room and doing something — anything — different had lifted her spirits.

It was also nice that Draco was behaving himself as well. He was… trying.

"Would you like that?" he purred as he leaned forward a little. "Just you and me? It can be like that, you know. We can have…" He reached across the table, hand hovering above hers. "This."

Hermione looked deep into his silver eyes, so bright and… hopeful. Is that what tonight was? His way of showing her what he could give her, if only she gave in to him?

"Is that why you did this? Gave me the gown and set up this… date?"

Draco pulled his hand back and frowned. "I thought you'd like it."

"So you have no ulterior motives then?"

He smirked at her. "Well, if you fell back in love with me tonight, I wouldn't kick you out of the bed." Hermione blinked. "Wouldn't have to chain you to it anymore either. At least," he added with a devilish grin, "not until you begged me to."

"Don't hold your breath."

"I never do with you, Sweetheart." He gave a little shake of his head and a lock of hair fell down to his brow. "I take as much as I can get."

So this was to be her future.

Taken out to be wined and dined when it was convenient for him and then hidden back upstairs for him to reap the rewards he thought owed to him. Hermione folded her hands in her lap. "I've noticed."

They sat in silence for a few long moments. Hermione looked down at the uneaten sprouts on her plate and Draco ran his finger around the rim of his goblet, making a strange ethereal noise with each swipe. Hermione couldn't help but notice the signet ring missing from his finger. She was about to ask when Draco pulled his hand back out of sight.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he finally said.

"You don't mind upsetting me every other night," she snapped, her fiery Gryffindor pride burning within her.

Draco stood up and the dishes and plates faded from sight. He looked down at her with storming grey eyes. "Tonight was supposed to be different."

"Why?"

"It's Valentine's day."

.

February. She knew she had been here for a few weeks now, but she had no idea it was already halfway through February. The war was raging outside Malfoy Manor and she had barely made it out of Draco's bedroom. Not that she was getting anywhere tonight.

Draco had instructed her to come with him and she found herself once more following him through the Manor. This time she didn't let herself get distracted by the immensity and opulence. Hermione counted doors, looked down halls and when they passed by a large room and heard pained noises coming from it, she slowed, trying to peer inside.

"Granger." Draco had noticed the clicks of her heels had softened and reached past her to close the door, stopping the haunting cries coming from the other end of the room. She had barely glimpsed another staircase led down into the bowels of the Manor. What, or who, was down there that could be making that terrible sound?

"Don't get lost. Or I'll have to come after you again."

"What was that?"

"Nothing for you to worry about," he said, his voice sliding over her like velvet, and she longed to believe him. And that worried her even more.

"Draco-"

"It's not far now." He turned and headed off again. Hermione glanced back at the closed door for a moment, then did as she was told and followed Draco down a tiled hallway. The beads on her dress swished and rattled against each other as they kept walking, the lights getting more spaced out until they stopped all together.

Hermione started to get nervous. Where was he taking her?

Draco stopped in front of two doors that seemed to be made of glass, but it was too dark on the other side for her to see through. He looked over his shoulder. "Don't be scared, Granger. I think you're going to like this."

The doors opened and they walked inside.

A wall of heat and humidity hit her as soon as she entered and Draco quickly closed the doors behind her. The room was filled with leaves, vines, and flowers and smelled richly from the mix of plants, earth and- Godric, fresh air.

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. When she opened them again, she was looking up into a glass pane ceiling and the stars were shining down on her. She had seen the grounds and the sky from Draco's bedroom window, but there was something different about being able to see the whole sky opened up above her.

But as she stared up into the vast openness, she couldn't help noticing the glass separating her from the sky. Still inside.

Still trapped.

Draco came to stand next to her. "I told you I would make it up to you."

Her reward for going willingly into her cage- a larger one.

She didn't want to think like this. She didn't want to see everything Draco did as a calculated movement, but they were at war. She didn't know how to get back to… them. Just them again.

Was there anything to go back to though? They were nothing more than… casual for months and as soon as something sparked between them, it was drowned in the baths when she saw his mark. After that, they had one night, a few blissful hours, before the whole world crashed around them and… they had gone to war.

Eventually it would end and when it did, would there be anything left of them to hold onto? And if there wasn't, then why didn't she want to let go?

"I didn't want to have to lock you up, but if they would have somehow gotten in-"

"I could have gotten out."

Even in the weak starlight, Hermione could see surprise flash across his face.

"If I would have somehow gotten a wand, you know I would have fought my way or or died trying."

His expression darkened. "You'd rather die than be with me?"

"You aren't giving me much of a choice!" She felt the lion in her chest growling in indignation. "This isn't 'with you', Draco! Even if I agreed to stay and… whatever with you, I wouldn't be with you. You said it yourself, there's no future for us- this is all we get."

"I have given you everything! All I have!"

Hermione ripped off the broach and slammed it down next to a pot of flowers that were emitting a light, echoing noise. "I don't want jewelry. Or fine gowns!" She pulled at the skirt of the dress, swishing it angrily.

"Then what do you want, Granger?" He looked around in exasperation, the dim light of the stars gleaming on the dark green leaves and fragile petals as his face fell into hard marble. "What the fuck do I have to do for you to- to love me again because- fuck… Forget it. Fucking forget it."

"Draco-"

"You know I tortured people for you? Yeah, I did. Rowle, because he came after you in the coffee shop. I took his eye. Yaxley, because he grabbed you when you have the bright fucking idea to break into the Minstry. Honestly, Granger, what the fuck was that?!"

"You-"

"And Fletcher, so he would give up Order members I could hunt down and torture for information when months went by and I still had no idea where you were. I questioned dozens of Muggleborns trying to find a fucking scrap of news of you. And still nothing. I nearly killed Greyback for some goddamn wolves just to track and hunt you down!" Draco inhaled sharply, and pinched his lips together as the lock of hair fell down between his eyes. "Why did you run, Granger? Why? I told you I would come for you- why did you run?"

This was the most open and honest Draco had been with her and it was terrifying. What was she supposed to say to this? Hearing what he had done trying to find her, names of the people he had hurt. Dozens of…

Muggleborns.

Hermione blinked, the darkness fading as her eyes adjusted. He had called them Muggleborns. It wasn't much, but it was something.

"I didn't run from you," Hermione said in a small voice. Draco's eyes were dark pits, ringed in bright silver. "I did wait. I waited for weeks and you were just gone. I had no idea where you were, or if you were okay or even alive. It wasn't safe for me at home anymore so I went to Ron's. I had nowhere else. No one else.

"We were all at the wedding, Bill and Fleur's, when we were attacked. There were so many Death Eaters and… none of them were you. So I ran. But I never ran from you, Draco. You were the one that left, not me."

Draco was staring at her like she was speaking a language only he could understand.

Hermione took a deep breath of the sweet night air. "If you would have stayed, I would have stayed with you."

His face dropped.

Despair, agony, and regret all raced over it, carving themselves deep into the white marble of features.

She didn't stop herself this time. Hermione reached up and placed her hand against the side of his face, rubbing the pad of her thumb over the arch of his cheek. Draco leaned into it, grasping her hand in his and holding it tightly to him.

"I didn't want to go. Not without you," he said hoarsely and opened his eyes again. "But she would have killed you, Granger. I would have lost you and I couldn't let that happen. So I left instead."

She knew it was the truth. She had known it since that night, bruised and covered in cold mud. But it still didn't make it any easier to accept. Even after months of going over it in her mind countless times, she still thought that Draco was wrong.

He should have stayed. With her.

"What can I do to make that up to you? I thought saving you and bringing you here would be enough. I knew it would take time for you to adjust, but… fuck." He gripped her hand so hard it hurt. "All you want to do is leave, but I can't let you because you're mine."

"Then come with me," she whispered so softly that even the singing flowers seemed louder.

Draco pulled her hand from his face.

Hermione put it on his chest. "Come with me, Draco. We can leave. Tonight."

"Granger-" He took a step back.

"Please," she moved towards him again, "please, Draco. If… if you do, I'll… I'll forgive you. I won't even need to though because… because I don't care what you've done. That wasn't you, not really. And other people will see that too if you try to right your wrongs before it's too late."

Draco turned away from her, leaning heavily on the opposite counter and hanging his head heavily. "You don't know what you're asking of me."

"Dumbledore offered you and your family protection. Harry heard him. If Harry-"

"Dumbledore is dead," he interrupted icily, chilling her even in the heat of the greenhouse. "And Potter's not far behind him."

She ignored the jibe, knowing he only said to derail her argument. Hermione had waited months to have this conversation and she wasn't letting a little thing like Draco's attitude get in her way now. Not when she was so close. There was a door on the other side of the glass room. They could walk through it and be free. Together.

"You can help change that. Don't you want a future where we can actually be together? Not some farce behind closed doors? Draco, don't you want me?"

He spun around, eyes flaring with cold anger. "You think you can trick me with promises of a happily ever after? Granger I know exactly who the fuck I am and what the fuck I've done. The Order will never protect me. Not now. And running with you? What you're asking me to do is let you die," he snarled. "We are safe here. We are protected here. We are together here! Why isn't that fucking enough for you?!"

Draco swiped his arm and a pot full of bruised red vines crashed to the floor and went slithering in all directions.

Hermione jumped back as one of them snaked over her shoe.

Draco easily picked her up and lifted her out of harm's way. The vines disappeared into the darkness, moving under tables and into other plant's pots.

Here, in his embrace with her arms around his shoulders Hermione leaned in close to his face and smelled the sweet mint of him. "Please, Draco, just… trust me."

The normally stoic expression shattered as a full range of emotions flashed through his eyes, eyes that never left hers. He was here, her Draco, the real one. Not the one that wore a Death Eater's mask. Not Malfoy. Just Draco.

The hard granite in his eyes cracked and broke, leaving only the misty grey swirling as he took a labored breath.

She wrapped her arms around him, nuzzling her face into the soft fabric of his shirt and jacket. His hands locked around the small of her back and he bent his head, resting it on top of her head. When was the last time he had held her like this? When was the last time she had left him? She wasn't sure. All she knew was that she didn't want to let go.

He said he didn't want to lose her and she didn't want to lose him either. Hermione held him tighter, feeling his muscles contract and his breathing quicken. What she didn't notice, was how hers did too. All she could think was how good it felt being in his arms again, being with him again. She had almost forgotten it could feel like this, but with the reminder, Hermione remembered how much better it could be.

She looked up at him, heart beating hard as his hands slid to grip her waist.

"Draco," she breathed out. "I want you." His mouth parted slightly and his hands spread out, covering each side of her rib cage. She could feel his muscles tighten as he fought himself for control when slid her hands up to his chest. "But not like this. We can have more, we can be more. You… you showed me before. So this time, let me show you."

Draco stared down at her for a long time, so long that Hermione's hope began to outweigh her fear. She started to smile, the bubbles rising up in her again making her feel like if she just held onto him for a little while longer, they could float right through the glass panes and into the star-strewn sky and away from all of this.

Draco pushed his fingers into her hair, sliding his palm against the side of her neck as his thumb traced the outline of her lips. She opened them for him, gazing up at his unreadable expression. But she knew, she thought, she was a glimmer of something deep in them. He would do it. He would do it for her.

After everything else he said he had done for her, surely Draco would be willing to leave behind the safety of his Manor so they could be together.

He tilted her head back. "I love you more than anything, everything, Sweetheart." His lips curled ever so slightly and Hermione felt herself relaxing into his hands. "You're my heart, my whole heart. And that is why I won't let you go out there to die. Even if you did it at my side."

Numb. Hermione's whole body went numb.

Draco released her, pulling back to put a few inches of space between them again. Rules. He had remembered, and she had forgotten. Forgotten that he had taken the mark before he fell in love with her. Forgotten that he was just as much Malfoy as he was Draco. And had forgotten that as good as he made her feel, he could make her feel equally, if not even more, terrible.

"We should go back," he said, voice as hollow as her chest felt. She was dizzy with disillusionment and although something in her told her to make a break for the door, the heavy feeling of disappointment kept her firmly in place.

Hermione followed Draco back down the tiled hallway, through the Manor, and up the stairs. She didn't say a single word as Draco opened the door to his bedroom. She just walked back in. Back to her cage.

He stopped in the doorway. "I'll give you some time to get undressed. Just… knock when you're done."

He didn't look at her before closing the door.

Hermione stared at the room she knew so well with new eyes. Eyes she refused to blink until they burned. Good. That meant they were dry. That meant she wasn't crying this time.

Not that it hurt any less than the last time he had broken her heart.

She pulled the earrings out and unclasped the necklace, placing them carefully on top of the dresser. The broach was still in the greenhouse, but she didn't care about losing it. What would she have done with a ruby broach anyway? It didn't go with the sheer white lace dresses he normally put her in.

She hung the gown up and straightened it on the hanger, not wanting to leave any creases on something so fine before picking up the small white slip again. Then a thought occurred to her. Draco had left the wardrobe open while she dressed earlier and reaching for the handle, Hermione found it unlocked. Inside were racks of shirts and folded trousers. She pulled a shirt off the hanger, leaving it swinging as she pulled it around her shoulders.

She wasn't entirely sure why she did it, other than the fact that she just wanted to. And maybe not everything needed a full thought as the reason.

The sleeves were too long and she had to roll them up a few times to have use of her hands again. Once she was done, Hermione walked over to the door and raised her hand to knock on it.

She could hear him on the other side. A deep, agonized groan as if he was in great pain and then a quick intake of breath followed by shallow pants and a weak, "Fuck…"

Biting her lip, Hermione pressed her ear to the door.

"FUCK!" Draco shouted and something heavy hit the other side, making her jump back and cover her mouth with her hand to stop any noise from coming out.

Not that he would have heard it. The sounds of crashing, ripping, and shattering were loud enough to scare her even with the heavy wooden door between them. Hermione stood there, shaking and staring at the unlocked door, as Draco roared and tore apart the room on the other side.

.

A/N: I swear I am going somewhere with this. Do you trust me? ;)