Chapter 8 – She's Good For You
March 22, 2001
How did I get here?
This is a question I frequently ask myself. How did I get into this particular situation? A chain of events leads us to where we are and where we are, is part of the chain to lead us somewhere else. So, how did this moment occur?
Things seemed dark, as though I would never see the light of day, truly feel the warmth of the sun on my skin. But now, things have changed. The chain reaction that is my life has brought me to a place I could never have imagined even a few months ago. I see light.
I sit across the mahogany table, sharing breakfast, with a most unexpected guest.
Hermione Granger.
Hermione Granger, perfect, yet broken. A muggle-born sitting in the dining room of Malfoy Manor, the place where during the war, people like her came to die; where she came to die.
But not now. Now, she is safe, she is beautiful. She is wearing the silvery green work robes I found last night in my mother's old things. I marvel at the similarities between the two women. Sure, they believe different things, but they are both strong and beautiful women who survived a war and still stand to bring out the best in me. They are the two people in my life who I admire the most.
Simply the fact that she is a girl who I brought home is an incredible thing as I have never brought a girl here. Never. I have had lots of girls who wanted my attention, lots of girls who wanted things from me; physical things. But they were feats, brought bragging rights; their purpose was to allow me to let off some steam, to relax. None of them ever meant enough to bring home. I guess after Voldemort returned and began using the manor as his own, bringing anyone here was a danger, but before that, and after Voldemort's fall, I have not brought a girl here.
I watch Hermione, mesmerized, as she eats her porridge, sliding the spoon between her perfect lips, her tongue reaching out to touch the corner of her mouth. I look down at my own breakfast. I can't keep doing this, can't keep thinking this. I would ruin everything. We are friends, barely even that. I can't keep thinking about how she would taste if I kissed her, how she would feel against me. It's wrong.
How did I get here?
I guess it all started that November night; that night when I saw her and her image refused leave my mind. Those months that I couldn't drive her out. I have accepted her presence in my thoughts and embraced them. I want more, but I shouldn't. I don't deserve more. But if I look at her and her incredible self, all those shouldn'ts fade away and all that remains is my desire. It isn't anything more. It can't be anything more than desire.
Her eyes tell a different story. Her eyes seep into me, pull me, hold me. And I know that this is not mere desire. Without kissing, without touching, without any of the physical aspects that I have experienced before with those other girls, I know that I am falling for her. We just talk and it isn't even about the deep things that haunt us, the things that desperately want to be said, the things that are just waiting to come out.
But last night, I knew. I knew and it terrified me. It terrified me, that, even without all the things they say you should have before this point, I am falling in love with her.
"Thank-you, again, for letting me stay here last night," she says.
My eyes raise to her once again.
"It's no big deal. Really." I pause. "Are you thinking of going back to your flat tonight?"
"Well, yes. I don't want to intrude here," Hermione replies.
"Come back here tonight," I tell her. "You shouldn't go back there alone. At least not right now."
She sighs, as though she doesn't want to talk about this right now. As though this is beyond conversation. But I can't stand the thought of her going back there, to that flat; the one that is destroyed by such terrible words, words that have nothing to do with the girl sitting in front of me. It pains me to think that Weasley would do something like this. They were best friends and I don't understand what happened.
"I have to go work," she says, standing up.
And I have an idea.
"Before you go, I would like to show you something." I join her, pushing my chair away from the table and walking around to offer her my hand. Maybe I can convince her to come back.
"Alright," she agrees, though she seems a bit confused. But she cannot hide the involuntary expression of excitement that flashes in her eyes and in the barely visible smile on her face.
As I lead her from the room, I see a shadow escape down the hall and I desperately hope it is not my father. I have not seen him since dinner yesterday and he normally takes breakfast in his study, but there is always the possibility of a run-in.
I pick up a bit of speed, pulling her gently behind me. If my father finds us, it would mean disaster.
I come to the large wooden doors and can't wait to see Hermione's face when she steps inside.
"I think you're going to like this," I say with an eager smile.
She smiles back, but her brows are still drawn together in confusion. "Draco, what –
Before she can finish, I push open the doors to reveal the library. Her jaw drops slightly in amazement as I lead her inside. Shelves of books line the entire perimeter of the room with six chairs in different sections with stacks beside each, and a narrow spiral staircase in one corner leading up to the second floor above us; a balcony-like floor, open in the middle, with more shelves around the outside edge and an extravagant rail lining the inner.
I watch as she turns in a circle, taking in everything that is the Malfoy library.
"This is incredible," she whispers in awe.
"Come back here tonight," I urge her again. "We can spend some time in here."
Hermione bites her bottom lip nervously, taking another look around before finding me once again.
"Alright. I'll come back," she agrees.
"I look forward to it," I say with a smile.
After Hermione has left, I stay, standing in the center of the library. I guess you could say I had lost the awe. The room had become a normal part of life, just like the rest of my extravagant existence. I had forced back the significance, the bad memories it holds, and made it into a storage room.
But Hermione is making me see the world through new eyes, giving me a fresh perspective, shedding glorious light over the dimmed shadows of my universe. Just a moment ago, this room where I stand went from a place to store books, to a magnificent museum of information.
We are opposites. While I have always seemed to destroy anything I touch, she brings it back to life, brighter, and more spectacular than ever before. Piece by piece, she is putting my life back together, whether she knows it or not. I have never been more confident in myself, in who I am, in what I believe. I realize that I am willing to fight for this. I already have.
I believe that my family has been brainwashed all these years and I have finally stepped out into a clear, and breath-taking world that seemed hideous and disgusting before.
Even a few months ago, I was holding back, bending to the will of my father, pretending that it was alright to hate people who aren't like us. But it's not and I can't go on acting as though it is. Hermione isn't like us, but that doesn't make her inferior. She's better. She is kinder, more driven, full of life; she is stronger.
Hearing the door creak open, I instinctively clutch my wand. I remember the disappearing shadow earlier in the hall and know that this could be my father, here to mess with my head, insult Hermione, take his stand as the prejudiced, son-of-a-bitch he is.
But then I see my mother poke around the door, and I feel my body relax.
"Mother," I sigh.
"I know, you are a grown wizard and I cannot keep following you around the manor when you have guests. But Draco. You brought her here?" I smile at her attempt at an apology.
"She had nowhere else to go," I explain.
"But if your father found out . . ." she trails off.
"I know. It would not be good."
My mother strides forward and takes my hands in hers, looking at me with strangely adoring eyes.
"I'm proud of you," she says.
"Why?" I ask. I genuinely have no idea why she would be proud of me. I am still a bit confused in where her loyalties lie in all this. She believes in blood purity, does she not?
"Oh, Draco. For so many things." She shakes her head with a small smile. "I'm glad I saw you two together."
"It was you in the hall," I say with relief.
"Yes," she admits.
"Mother, I –
"Draco, darling, you are standing up for yourself, for her, for what you believe, for your own happiness," she interrupts. "Yes, your father told me about what you said to him. He wasn't all too pleased about it. As much as I can't condone such behaviour in this household, I think it's about time."
I let out a laugh I am no longer able to contain. "What are you saying?" I ask, a bit bewildered.
"I'm saying, I think this is more than blood status. Your father needs to learn that. Miss Granger is good for you. You need some joy in your life, Draco, a friend, someone who understands what went on during the war and where you are now. And I think she may be that person."
Why am I constantly surprised by this woman? Somehow, she survived having a husband and a son on the wrong side of the war, a madman staying in her home, the trials after the war and a cold and unfeeling husband at home all day, every day. She is a perfect Malfoy, formal, elegant, graceful, and yet a perceptive and loving mother. I have seen both sides of that equation; the pureblooded ice queen and the warm, bubbly, overly affectionate smotherer. Narcissa Malfoy has the perfect balance of both blended in with an inspirational strength.
"Lucius will never approve of this. He will be absolutely furious when he finds out."
"You won't tell him, will you?" I ask.
"No. I won't risk her safety, or yours for that matter. But I will talk to him if he does. I don't want to lose you," she says.
"You won't," I assure her.
"Is she coming back tonight?" I see a hopeful light in her eyes.
"Yes, she is." I can't help but smile as I say it. I cannot wait to see Hermione's rekindled joy at the sight of the library once more. I know she will be thinking about that room all day, just imagining all the different books that it may contain.
I think back to our Hogwarts days. I used to tell her how horrible she was for being a 'know-it-all', how she was just some bookworm. Now, I think it would have been nice to hold an intelligent conversation over a book, or even a textbook. My friends were such dimwits it would have been refreshing. But I was too arrogant to see how wonderful it could be. I was too focused on my nonsensical prejudice to see the beauty in bookworm.
But now I have a second chance, and I can see it in the look on my mother's face that she knows this too.
Author's Note:
Hey my amazing readers! So, this chapter was another one without a whole lot going on, but I hope it was alright anyhow. The next one will be their evening spent in library.
So, I'm kind of conflicted on something and I was wondering if you guys would help me out. Everyone knows a kiss is coming at some point, but I would really like your opinions on sooner (in the next chapter or so), or give them some more time. I won't tell you any more than that but, I got one comment saying that they should kiss now, and another saying it isn't time. So, if you could let me know, even if it's just that one word, I would really appreciate it. I have been going back and forth on this for days.
Thanks to those of you who reviewed for the last chapter, you're kind words were so special to me.
Thanks to everyone for reading and I'll see you when I have the next chapter ready (When I decide what's happening ;P)
