Chapter 6 – Don't Measure Up
March 16, 2001
As soon as I return to the manor, I hide away in my study, making sure to lock and ward the door. I do not wish to have another run-in with my father, especially not now, when I am worried for the girl whose mere existence he despises.
I watch the clock, unable to concentrate on anything but that constant ticking of a countdown to when I go to the ministry and take Hermione home. I am anxious to see her again, anxious to make sure she is alright.
Because I'm afraid.
But this time, I'm afraid for her, for her safety, for her life. She wouldn't tell me anything about these mysterious and frightening letters she has received, but they must not be good if she doesn't want to go home alone.
I've been through this too many times, seen the kinds of things people are capable of first hand, and I am terrified of what I could imagine happening to her. And I know that once I take her home, I'm not going to want to leave, just in case, just so she has someone there. I also know that I have no right to stay.
I stop and close my eyes. Am I this far gone? Do I really care about her this much? Is this what caring about someone feels like? Constantly worried? How have I gotten here?
The past couple of months I have been getting exactly what I wanted when I first saw her face at the party; to know her. We talk and laugh, even if it is only a short while each week. It isn't the deep, gritty, dirty, hole that we discuss - that will hopefully come a bit later - but the realities of today, of work, of hobbies, of pleasant things. I like that I have gotten to know, even a small bit of who she is now, however, there is also a lot that I am missing. But the trust is growing.
That hour is the one thing that has kept me sane, kept me away from the edge of the cliff, has kept me from falling off that rocky ledge and down into the pit of darkness I seem to always to be pulled back to. She has become a friend. When things get hard, when the darkness seems to spread to the precarious ground on which I stand above the valley of my memories, she is the person to stick my feet to the ledge so I can't fall off that precipice.
Time seems to crawl by at an agonizingly slow pace, forcing my mind to play over and over again the worst case scenarios. I try to block it out, the memories that flash behind my eyes, ghosts of her screams piercing through my ears, and I am afraid they will reoccur. I am afraid that whoever is sending these letters is going to bring terrors to her life once again, and again, I will be too cowardly to stop it.
But I am getting ahead of myself. They are only letters and she says they aren't even threatening. Hermione is smart, she knows if she is in danger, she knows if she needs to get more help. I shouldn't worry so much. But I do.
Finally, I stand up from behind my desk, having done absolutely nothing from the time I sat down except agonize over what could happen, and walk to the fireplace to floo to the ministry.
In a puff of green, I arrive.
It is different from the last time I was here, but I can't prevent the familiar chill, the silent terror from creeping up within me. After the war, they held the Death Eater trials and I had been certain that the next room I was going to see was a cell in Azkaban. I knew how the ministry worked and that they would most likely want to lock up everyone connected to Voldemort that they could. I was expecting a life sentence.
My whole family got off without going to prison and the trials were not nearly as biased as I had thought they would be under the new minister, but that didn't stop the undeniable feeling of absolute helplessness and fear of a lifelong sentence in a place that drains the soul, from rising within me.
I walk through the checkpoint, handing over my wand for inspection, and am searched for any dark artifacts. The security has increased drastically since the war and it makes me feel a bit better about Hermione being here.
My heart is pounding in my chest and I can hear the blood whooshing in my ears. I really should have come back here before now, but I haven't had a good enough reason to face this particular horror yet.
I can feel the stares, the drilling sensation of eyes trained on me. A Malfoy has not been seen in the ministry for almost three years, not to mention the associations the name still carries. I can feel it; the disgust, the anger, the fear. Many people believe that myself and my whole family should be in Azkaban, and we did do terrible things during the war, but for my mother and I, we never really had a choice. My father is a completely different story and it is told, even a small bit, by the house arrest he has been under and continues to endure. The Manor is his whole world now.
I also hear the whispers, the muttering, the gossip, of what I could possibly be doing here. It is obvious that I am not wanted, and as much as it burns a hole through my chest, I already knew before I came that this would be the reaction. I am not here for me; I am here for Hermione.
I make my way to the lift and people avoid stepping foot in my path, preferring to move to the side and stare, or whisper to one another. I am not here for me; I am here for Hermione.
The lift rises and I get off at level four, the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures, and head to be Beings Division, where Hermione works in the Werewolf Support Services subdivision.
I find Hermione's office and can't help but smile at seeing her name engraved on the door. I always knew that one day, she would be leading some sort of creature rights campaign, I knew her name would end up on a door.
"Do you have an appointment?"
I turn to see who has stopped me, who has actually dared to talk to me, and see a tall, lanky woman, with straight brown hair and large glasses.
"She is already finished for today, but I could ask if she would stay, or if she will see you Monday," she says with an American accent. That could explain why she is speaking to me, why she doesn't seem to be afraid.
"Who are you?" I ask.
"I'm Kara, Miss Granger's assistant," she replies.
Hermione has an assistant?
"Well, Kara, she is expecting me –
Even as I say the words, Hermione's door opens.
"Draco," she smiles. "I can't thank you enough for coming today." She turns to Kara. "Thank-you. You can go home. I'll see you Monday." She speaks politely, smiling and nodding respectfully, talking with a sense of equal status that astounds me. It is so typically of Hermione to treat her assistant in a manner that excludes any hint of superiority.
"You have a nice weekend," Kara says, turning to leave.
"So, you have an assistant," I implore once she is out of earshot.
"Yes. Kara." Hermione pauses for a moment before continuing. "She was bitten at the age of fifteen and has had a rough go of things since then. I went to America for a couple months after. . ." she trails off. "I met her and offered her a job. They don't have anything like this in America and she was eager to be involved."
"She's a werewolf?" I ask, a bit shocked.
"Yes, but also a wonderful, kind-hearted, young woman," Hermione corrects. "Lycanthropy doesn't define her anymore."
I knew she had ambition, plans, but now I see how far she has actually progressed.
"So, people actually use the service," I more state than question.
"Somewhat, yes. As I said, it's slow, but growing."
We walk back to the lift, which takes us down to the entrance.
There are far fewer people now than there were earlier, but somehow, the staring seems worse, the whispering is louder, and I look to Hermione beside me who is watching those people with confusion. I wish she doesn't have to see it.
"Why are they -
"It's fine. I'm used to it. I haven't been to the ministry in a while and now I'm walking with you. . . you know how people enjoy their gossip," I say.
Hermione looks at me, her eyes big.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you to come here. I wasn't thinking," she apologizes.
"Really, it's fine. It was good for me to come back here," I tell her.
"You haven't been back since. . ." the trial. She doesn't need to say the last word.
"I was avoiding it and needed a reason to face it. It was good for me."
"And them, does that happen a lot?" she asks.
I shrug. "I'm a Malfoy. The name holds a completely different meaning now. I wish I could change it, I'm trying to change it, but it will take some time."
"Draco," she almost whispers, I can see the empathy in her gaze.
We stand directly in front of one of the large fireplaces.
I hate that she has to experience the stares and whispers with me and I wish she could stay oblivious to the things I deal with on a regular basis. It is a pain she does not need to endure, a pain she shouldn't endure, and I just hope that I have not ruined her reputation here by being seen with her.
And again I think of how she deserves better, how she should find someone who measures up to how amazing she is. I was a Death Eater, and, even though I am working to change the dark view people have of me, I know it won't be for a while, and I know it won't be an easy feat.
"I'll go first," I tell her. The least I can do is make sure everything is safe before she arrives.
"Thank-you," she says.
I step into the fireplace and feel the sensation of being sucked up, turning, I find her sitting room and step out into it. I look around. Everything seems exactly the way I saw it back in January, nothing out of place. The only difference is the small, messy stack of letters on the table. I can't read what is written on them from where I stand and I am not about to nose through them, but I can tell that whatever is said, was written in anger. The ink looks dark and deep and I can see a few drops of what could be tears. I wonder if they are from whoever the letter was written by, or Hermione.
She steps out behind me, places a hand on my arm and I turn to face her.
"I know, I owe you an explanation," she takes a deep breath. "But I can't. Not right now."
"It's alright. Don't get me wrong, I would like to know, but I don't need to."
She flashes an almost smile. Then she is off down the hall and I am left confused. Where is she going? It hits me that she is checking the rooms of her flat before I leave, making sure everything is how it should be.
Again, I wonder why she hasn't gone to the auror's office if she is this frightened.
Hermione comes back to the sitting room. "Thank-you again, for doing this."
"Do you want me to stay? I can sleep out here, on the sofa," I offer.
"No, really, I'll be fine." And even though I desperately want to stay, and be completely certain she is alright, I have no right to argue, so I nod my acceptance.
"If you need anything, floo, please. I have a fireplace in my study that has been used to come here so you will end up there if you do."
"Okay," she says."And thank-you again, for this."
I nod again and back slowly into the fireplace, dropping the floo powder at my feet and stepping out into my study.
Author's Note:
Hey guys! So, this chapter wasn't as packed full as the last one, more informational and a step towards the next chapter which is much more exciting. I hope it was alright and I would love to hear your thoughts on it or what you think might happen.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed for the last chapter, it really makes me happy when I see a new comment. Also, if you catch any errors, or things I can fix, please let me know, I had one in the last chapter and I am so thankful that I was able to fix it. Small thing, but I wouldn't have found it if it hadn't been pointed out. sshanholtzer44 has helped me out a few times now so thanks a lot!
I start work soon so I will post twice again next week but I might be going back to once a week shortly.
Thanks for reading!
