Chapter 4

Days later, Hermione finally paid the long due visit to the Malfoys to inform them in person about her results. Draco had been very reluctant to let his parents know about his condition, afraid that they might disown him. It had taken her a lot of effort and reassurance to get his agreement to let his parents know. Yes, she had to tell him over and over again that she wouldn't leave him whatever was going to happen; she was afraid that he was going to hurt himself when he spent hours in his room without a sound coming from it. Each time, she had eventually checked on him to make sure he was still okay. She even had let him come over to her bed one night when it had been really bad. And this morning, knowing that she was about to go and meet his parents, he had been scarce with words, only answering with a humph to almost everything she had said. So, with Draco in mind, she finally made herself known at the front door, wearing what she considered her best robes – Draco had a different opinion, as his irritated grunt indicated, but she didn't care that much.

"Miss Granger, welcome back," Lucius greeted Hermione when she was finally led into the drawing room. "Your owl mentioned that you have news regarding my son..."

"Yes." Hermione indicated a curtsey, and then sat down on a chair opposite the Malfoys. She noticed that especially Narcissa looked tense, even anxious to a certain extent—the last few months hadn't been easy for her either.

"Please, tell us the news," Narcissa requested; begging was usually below her—that much Hermione had realised the last time—but she did sound desperate, like any mother would after their child had disappeared without any notice. "Is he still alive?"

Biting her lip to keep her opinion on house-elves to herself, Hermione waited until the family's house-elf had served the tea and the biscuits. She thanked the creature with a smile when it offered her the filled cup. "He is alive, Mrs Malfoy, but the situation is a bit more complicated than that, I'm afraid." She blew on her tea to gain an extra moment to consider what to say next.

"Define complicated, Miss Granger," Lucius demanded; his impatient voice betrayed his seemingly collected expression.

"I discussed this over the last few days with your son, Mister Malfoy; he is not entirely comfortable to let you know. I had to convince him." Hermione took a sip from her cup, eyeing the Malfoys. The mother seemed visibly relieved to hear that Draco was still alive; his father was harder to decipher. "He was a wreck when I found him—half starved to death, filthy, and with scratches and cuts all over his body."

"Oh my gods!" Narcissa exclaimed. "What happened to him?" She had to put her cup down on the lounge table or she would have spilled her tea by now. "How is he now? Where is he?"

"He's doing a bit better now, Mrs Malfoy. He was just too afraid to come here with me."

"Why would that be? He's our son, he shouldn't be afraid to meet us–"

"He is, Mister Malfoy, and because of his current condition." To keep a sarcastic comment from leaving her lips, Hermione took another sip of her tea.

"You mean because he ran away and starved himself to death?" Lucius replied, growing impatient with her reluctance to just tell them. "That is no reason not to–"

"That's not what I meant." Hermione took a deep breath; she now understood Draco's reluctance to tell them. "He has another condition, and he's afraid of your reaction to it." She noticed Narcissa tensing up again at her words, grabbing her husband's hand. "He has been bitten..."

"Bitten?" Lucius asked sceptically, stroking his wife's hand to soothe her.

"Yes." Hermione nodded. "I haven't been exactly honest about my reasons when I came to you for information, and I apologise for that. The real reason why I wanted to track Draco down was that I discovered his name on the confidential register for creatures while I was checking it for someone else."

"Oh my gods!" Narcissa let out again, sounding utterly shocked. "T-That can't be..." She fished for a handkerchief from the dispenser on the table.

"You mean, he turns into a... into–"

"Yes, he's classified as a werewolf." Hermione watched how the news sunk in, and how differently the two Malfoys reacted to it. Narcissa desperately tried to keep herself together, though it was clear that she was breaking down inside; Lucius just stared at her, his eyes glinting with anger and disappointment, his jaws clenched.

"No, Lucius! Don't even think that!" Narcissa shouted when she finally noticed the expression on her husband's face. "I won't have that. He's our son!"

"It would be better if he was dead, Narcissa! My own son a werewolf, you can't get any lower than that."

"He is still our son! How can you even say that?!"

"Narcissa, get yourself together," Lucius hissed.

She icily glared at him, letting him know that this discussion wasn't over yet. "Don't even consider it."

"Miss Granger," Lucius then addressed Hermione again, visibly strained to remain polite with his guest. "Thanks for letting us know. This comes as quite a shock, but I'm glad that we now know..."

"I think Draco still took it the hardest the way he looked when I found him," Hermione replied just as politely, and finished her tea. "I still don't know what happened to him, however. The whole situation upsets him so easily that I haven't yet had the chance to find that out."

"Where is he staying?" Narcissa asked quietly; only the tightly gripped handkerchief revealed her inner turmoil. "I would love to see him, you know, despite what my husband thinks–"

"Narcissa!"

"He's my son, you can't forbid me to see him, even if you don't want to!" she hissed back, throwing another icy glare at her husband.

"He's currently staying at my place, Mrs Malfoy. I figured it was best to let him have my guest room. And from your reactions to the news, I think I was right. But I will, of course, let him know that you would like to see him–"

"Why hasn't he come himself?" Lucius interrupted her, his disappointment shining through. "I haven't raised him to shy away from a confrontation."

"I know, Mister Malfoy. But I can tell you that it wouldn't have been a good idea right now, he is not mentally stable enough to deal with such a situation like this. What I mean to say is I've seen cuts on his arms that look like he has tried to kill himself. I do not want to risk that right now." Hermione wished she could have spared the mother from this information, but she had to make them both understand why Draco shouldn't come here right now. "I won't force him to come here if he doesn't feel up to it, and you can't force me to bring him," she added sternly. "If you have something to say to him, you can tell me, and I will let him know."

"Hey, you okay?" Hermione asked when she saw Draco stand in the door to her bedroom that evening, looking all pensive and lost. She put the books away she had just been reading to find some information about werewolves and possible mating rituals. She hadn't seen him ever since she had told him how the visit to his parents went—she had tried to soften the blow of his father's disapproval as well as she could—and had been worried about him ever since. She smiled sadly when she saw him shake his head, his lips a thin line; he looked like a drowning person who was desperately trying to find something to hold on to. "Come here," she said quietly, with what she hoped to be a warm and reassuring smile while tapping the free spot next to her.

Without saying a word, he came inside, and climbed into her bed, where he just pulled her into an embrace.

In response, Hermione wrapped her arms around him, hoping she could provide a safe place for him. For a while, they just lay there, with her stroking over his back now and then, feeling how tight he held on to her. "What's wrong?" she finally whispered when she noticed that he was moving slightly, loosening his grip on her in the process.

"I couldn't stop thinking about what you told me happened," he replied in a whisper, and breathed in deeply. "I'm a disappointment to him, a failure. Always been one to him. Nothing I've ever done was good enough, how could he now accept me like this?"

"Your mother still loves you–"

"And then I thought why am I even here? Why did I even bother coming back...? Why didn't I succeed in killing myself?"

"Shh..." Hermione held him tightly, shocked to hear that he had relapsed into those dangerous thoughts. "You're here because I asked you, okay? Remember that. You're not alone anymore, I'm here. And I would miss you terribly if you'd succeed in killing yourself. It was probably just a shock to hear." She let one of her hands run through his hair. "I'm here, okay?"

"He'll disown me," he replied, his voice a barely audible whisper.

"Your mother won't allow that, okay? She still loves you..." She pulled his head up so that she could see him, sad to see that utter despair in his eyes again. "Don't let your father dictate any longer what you're supposed to be, or think, or feel. Listen to yourself, okay? You have a good heart, you proved that more than enough in the War. You don't need his acceptance." She pressed a heartfelt kiss on his forehead. "You're an adult human being and a very capable wizard, remember those things..."

He closed his eyes at the touch of her lips. "I like it when you say that I'm a capable wizard," he replied.

"Because you are. You were always such a close second in our year back at Hogwarts that it motivated me to learn harder, learn more."

"We were competitive, weren't we?"

"Yes." She smiled, relieved that she had seemingly managed to pull him out of his destructive thoughts. "Remember that one task in Potions that we were forced to do together, and almost exploded on us because we couldn't agree on some ingredient?"

"Oh yes! I remember that one... The others found it funny that the two best students had managed to fail a task."

"Yes." She chuckled at the memory, it had been such a simple potion and they had managed to muck it up completely, just because they had started one of their famous arguments that usually ended with insulting each other over an ingredient—Draco had ended up with a heavy smack on the back of his head from Snape, while she lost her House several points, and it earned them both extra homework in form of an essay about the ingredient they had argued about.

"Thanks," he whispered, a faint smile on his lips. "For everything I mean."

"Always come to me when you have thoughts like that, okay? You're not alone anymore."

He nodded, and closed his eyes again, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in while nestling up to her. "Thanks," he whispered once more.

Hermione watched for a long while over his sleep, her mind circling around what she could do to make him feel better about himself because one day, her words wouldn't be enough anymore. If only Lupin or Tonks were still alive, so that she could ask them for advice how to handle the situation, how to handle his destructive cycle of thoughts.

"Miss Granger, nice to see you again," Headmistress McGonagall greeted Hermione cordially when she picked up the latter at the main entrance of the currently empty Hogwarts castle. "I have to say I'm still surprised about your request for a visit. The last thing I heard about you was that you were somewhere in Eastern Europe."

"Professor, I'm glad that you have the time to receive me," Hermione replied. "And yes, I was in Eastern Europe."

McGonagall beckoned her to follow her to her office. "How was the trip?"

"Lonely."

"You were trying to find something, as far as I heard?"

"Not something, but someone," Hermione said, trying to keep up with the Headmistress who still had a surprisingly fast stride for her age.

"I see." They reached the entrance to the Headmistress' office soon after; the Griffin protecting the door, of course, sprang aside as soon as McGonagall gave him the password for her office. "Now, Miss Granger, do sit down." She pointed at the visitor's chair that Hermione had sat in a few times during her time in Hogwarts. "And tell me what brings you here, and why you require my help."

"Professor," Hermione sat down, trying to find the right words to explain the situation. "My request is connected to whom I tried to find in Eastern Europe—Draco Malfoy."

"Everyone thought he was dead," McGonagall replied in surprise. "Killed in battle."

"No. He disappeared. I don't know yet what exactly happened to him, but I followed his tracks through half of Europe—France, Germany, Italy, the Balkans, and a few more countries. I found him in south-western Hungary, a shadow of his former self."

"How did he end up there?"

Hermione looked at the Headmistress, and she wished she wouldn't need to tell her. "He was bitten by a werewolf, and on the run."

"Oh my goodness!" McGonagall exclaimed. "He was just a boy... Just a boy." She slumped back into her chair, staring incredulously at Hermione. "No one deserves that."

Hermione nodded, relieved that her former Transfiguration teacher agreed with her on that. "He was on his own until I found him, it must have been tough to deal with this all alone. I mean, Professor Lupin seemed to have had his family behind him, had Professor Dumbledore supporting him, his friends—Draco had no one until I found him." She took a deep breath. "I'm just trying to find a way to help him, and that's why I am here."

"I do get the impression that there is more to the story..."

Hermione let out a deep sigh. "Maybe. Right now, all I care about is finding a way to help him cope with it." She straightened herself in the chair. "I remember that Professor Lupin was provided with the Wolfsbane Potion during his stay here at Hogwarts as our Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, and he continued to drink it as a member of the Order. I did some research on it, but from what I could find, this seems to be a rather intricate potion. Far over my head."

"Yes." McGonagall nodded. "The Wolfsbane Potion is indeed one of the most difficult to brew."

"Oh yes, I wouldn't dare to even think about trying it myself. My skills in Potions are more than a bit rusty now after spending almost two years in total on the hunt. I'm rather good at Healing Potions, though. But the Wolfsbane Potion is in a completely different league... That's why I was hoping you would allow me to ask Professor Slughorn—if he's still Potions teacher here—to help me with the brewing."

"Professor Slughorn is indeed still teaching Potions here," McGonagall replied, eyeing her with the same stern expression that Hermione came to know so well. "He's a great help as Head of Slytherin, though he still likes to hear himself talk when he had one too many."

Hermione nodded. "I know it's a rather peculiar request, Professor, but the Wolfsbane Potion might really help Draco. Right now, it's almost a daily fight to keep him from falling back into that vicious cycle of his self-hate."

"He's staying with you?"

"Yes. He trusts me, so I figured this was the best way to help him." Hermione shortly rubbed her face. "I figured if there is something that could at least ease the transformation, it might help with his mental state."

McGonagall's expression softened a bit when she looked at Hermione. "You don't want to lose him."

"No, not if I can prevent it. He doesn't deserve this fate, after everything he did for us in the War. No one does."

McGonagall nodded slowly, after a long, almost scrutinizing look at Hermione. "Well, Miss Granger, I can see that you're being earnest about your willingness to help Mister Malfoy. He should be glad to have you." She smiled shortly. "As I remember from our days working for the Order, he always seemed to watch over you..."

"Yes. He told me he just tried to protect me."

"And now you try to protect him. So, in honour of what Mr Malfoy has done for us—playing a double agent at his age!—and remembering how it helped Professor Lupin to cope better with his life, I will have Professor Slughorn brew you the Wolfsbane Potion. Don't worry, I'll deal with him myself, he is a sly old fox, too curious for his own good sometimes, but he won't question my authority."

"Thank you, Professor!" Hermione let out a relieved sigh.

"In return, you'll tell me a bit more about your trip. I'd love to hear how you finally managed to track him down, and don't hold back with the details, my dear..." McGonagall flashed a short amused smiled on her lips.

How are you? Everything okay so far between you and Malfoy?

Hermione's device beeped surprisingly loudly in the Hogwarts library, where she was reading her way through a pile of books with the permission of McGonagall after spending an enjoyable couple of hours in the Headmistress' office talking about her experiences on her trip; the sound pulled her rather roughly from her reading. Yes. I'm trying to find a way to help him cope with the transformation. I'm at Hogwarts right now; it's eerily empty without all those students.

I can imagine.

The Malfoys weren't too happy about the news. They were arguing when I left them. But you should have seen Draco after I told him about it...

I guess he didn't take it well...

No, not at all.

I looked up some sources about werewolves, you know? Even tried to ask our house expert about bite marks like yours. He said that marks like yours were known amongst Veelas, but not werewolves... What if it wasn't the werewolf that marked you, but—in some twisted, perverted way—Malfoy himself?

I don't think so. I believe him when he says that he doesn't want to hurt me.

Maybe, when he did it, it wasn't about hurting you, but rather making you his own? I mean it's Malfoy, he can be obsessive, I remember that from working with him.

You think? Now Hermione had something else to think about—what if Harry was actually right about this? What if Draco was indeed obsessive bordering on possessive now that she had given him the chance he never thought he would have?

It's just what I remember from working with him, that's all. But you know, maybe you should talk to Bill. I'm sure he could give a few answers, at least about your own situation...

Yeah, maybe I should. Thanks. With that, Hermione returned to her books, enjoying the silence of the Hogwarts library a bit more while letting Harry's idea cycle through her mind.

"Hey, you're enjoying the sun a bit?" Hermione asked warmly when she stepped into her garden the next day.

"Yes, feels good after hiding for so long..." Draco looked up from his spot in her garden where he was comfortably lying on a blanket.

Hermione sat down next to him, and widened her smile when she felt him lay his hand on her back. "You look better too, you know? You've put on some weight–"

"No surprise with the amount you feed me..." He chuckled. "You're a really good cook, so I don't mind."

"My mum taught me some stuff, the rest is improvisation. A bit like Potions, really." Oh, she knew she was a decent cook, even Molly had remarked on it occasionally when she had helped the Weasley matron in the kitchen. But she was still surprised every time they ate how hungry Draco was, as he always helped himself to at least seconds. Hadn't she read something about a change in metabolism in werewolves, even in human form? How much did Lupin eat? She wished she could remember.

"You were out today again?"

"Just back to the library in Hogwarts. I told you that McGonagall lets me do some research..." He didn't need to know just yet that she also wanted to know about Slughorn's process in brewing the Wolfsbane Potion; the professor had told her in his usual long-winded way—and to her dismay—that it would take him at least a month to have it brewed correctly. At least the Potions teacher kept his curiosity to an absolute minimum, probably heeding a stern warning from McGonagall.

"It was always your favourite place."

"Yes. It was."

"You know, sometimes I just came there to keep an eye on you..."

She had seen him often there as well, but never figured that he was watching over her. "You know, whenever I saw you there, I thought you did it to annoy me–"

"At the beginning maybe," he replied with a faint smile at response. "But then I was drawn by your... I don't know... fire."

She simply smiled at his words, and then added after a moment of silence, "They almost rebuilt it all, only smaller damages are still visible. McGonagall said they might keep it that way as a reminder."

"We almost brought it down during the Battle." He sighed, and let his hand play with the seam of her button shirt.

"You have rough hands," she remarked when he finally managed to let his hand slip underneath her shirt. "But it feels nice." She let him play with her back for a while, enjoying the quiet moment in silence, focusing her mind on his touch sending small shivers all over her skin. "What's on your mind?" she asked when she looked at him again, noticing the pensive expression on his face.

"It was a day like this when I disappeared, you know?"

Surprised, Hermione turned around; she hadn't expected him to mention with even a single word how he had disappeared all those months ago. "You know I won't force you to tell me what happened..."

He nodded slowly. "I know." He let a single finger run down her spine, causing her to shiver despite the warmth of the day. "The weather just reminded me of the whole thing. I was out in the countryside, in one of my favourite places to be alone when I needed to think. I mean the War was just over and I hadn't a clue what that would mean now, that sort of thing. And maybe even wanted to figure out how to get a chance with you..."

She smiled softly at that, her mind still focused on his fingers on her back; she loved the roughness of his skin in contrast to the gentleness of his touch. However, she didn't want to interrupt him, now that he seemed willing to open up about what had happened. Yet, she also understood that going through it once more might upset him again, after having somewhat settled down, and feeling more comfortable in his skin, at least as far as she could tell.

"It really is a beautiful spot. You have a wonderful view over Wiltshire County—without seeing the Manor. Maybe I'll show you one day..."

"Sounds like a nice spot." She noticed that he was now trying to pull her closer, as gently as he could; she let him go on. In the end, she was half-lying on him, his arm firmly around her, without squeezing—she knew he was just trying to find a hold before he would go on.

"There were three of them when they found me in that spot, you know? They must have followed me around before attacking me," he finally started, his voice just a whisper, but still calm enough.

"Who?" Hermione propped her head up so that she was looking straight at him. He was staring into the sky, seemingly counting the clouds, but she knew better—he was distracting himself.

"Death Eaters that hadn't been caught yet. Somehow they knew that I had played a double agent in the War. They never told me how they knew, they just did."

"It's okay."

"No." He shook his head, taking a deep breath. "I should have been able to get away, back to the Manor. But they ambushed me, and had me Stunned before I could even properly react..."

She laid her head on his chest, and listened to his heartbeat while she waited for him to continue his story. The heart was beating slightly faster than usual, revealing that he was anything but calm.

"Next thing I know I wake up in a cell next to another person who looked about as bad as I probably did when you found me. I had a massive headache from the Stun—I think they all hit me with it—and someone told me what they planned to do with me."

"They didn't like that you helped us?" She could feel him shake his head and his grip on her tighten. No, they definitely didn't like it.

"Called me a traitor and worse. Said their punishmentfor betraying the cause was to stay in this cell. I didn't realise then that the other person was a werewolf... And the full moon only a few days off."

"That is sick."

"Yes." His voice was barely audible now. "I was supposed to die in that cell."

Hermione looked up again and noticed his clenched jaw and the fixed gaze into the sky—he looked as if he was trying to avoid crying. She grabbed his free hand, and gently pressed it before intertwining her fingers with his. "I'm here, okay?"

"I know."

She just kept lying wrapped up in his arms, providing the hold and the safe place he needed. Then she noticed that his breathing became more irregular—not much, but she knew the difference. Careful, she shifted her position, moving up until her face was next to his. She could see tears glistening in his eyes, a few already having run down his cheek. Never before had she seen him cry like this—pain yes, but not like this. Malfoys didn't show their emotions, she knew that he had been taught to see it as a weakness. "Hey," she whispered, and let a hand brush over one of his cheeks to remind him that he wasn't in that cell anymore, that she was here. He didn't have to go on for her to know that he had been through hell during that full moon, imprisoned with a werewolf. And now every month he was reminded of that night, turning into the very same thing.

In response to her touch, he pulled her up until she was basically lying on top of him, with his arms around her, his face buried in her shoulder. Her gentle reminder of her presence had been enough to break the dam, and he was now crying silently, finally letting it all out—letting everything out that he had seemingly bottled up in all those months on the run through Europe.

She just held him, gently stroked where her hands were placed on his shoulders until she could feel that his sobs were interrupted by increasingly longer breaks. "I'm so sorry," she finally said in a quiet voice, propping herself up so that she could look at him.

"Thanks for listening."

"Always." She pressed a kiss on his forehead, and then gently kissed the tears off his cheeks.

In response, Draco loosened his arms around her, and framed her face instead. "Thanks." He brushed a kiss on her lips. "Thanks for being here."

Hermione was overwhelmed with the bittersweet taste of his kiss—full of sadness, full of hope. She let his tongue enter and roam her mouth, discovering every little corner anew, while his fingers running through her hair made her scalp tingle.

TBC

Author's Note

In response to the latest reviews:
- Harry feels like a big brother to Hermione, it means he cares about her. He has helped her willingly during her search for Draco, but he is understandably shocked when she finally tells him the whole truth, as well as what really happened on her trip. He is not happy about it, but accepts the situation in the end...

- Hermione is very much her own person in this story. She is the one providing protection and help for Draco, she is the strong one in the relationship. And she knows that Harry cares about her, but she clearly objects to Harry's disapproving words.

Other than that, thanks for your reviews, they are appreciated! :-)