A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I can't believe there are 70+ of you following this story! the Erratic Poet, I love long reviews and thank you so much for leaving one. I really try to keep the characterization and the plot balanced, because I feel that both are equally important to the story. As for Voldemort and his appearance, I'm actually pleased you caught that. I feel like he would try to restore it, if only for his vanity and pride. Dolohev is Dolohov. It was a spelling error that I didn't actually catch (this story also doesn't have a beta for anyone else to catch it).
As always Reviews=love.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
It was strange. He treated her to one night of absolute bliss in his bookshop, and then it seemed he'd withdrawn. In the morning, he'd seemed so distant. He hadn't looked like he'd slept much, and it made her think that perhaps he'd dreamt something that had put him on edge.
It had been like that for days now. He'd go for his minimum time of service and come back ready to collapse in bed.
Theo kept her company more often than not, but even his mood had deteriorated. Daphne had continued to refuse to see him and had sent him a letter detailing her need for space. It was because of this that they seemed to find some comfort in one another. Solidarity, really. They were both familiar with seemingly distant and stubborn people.
He'd tell her not to worry too much about Draco. If anything, this was an improvement to how he'd been last year, wanting only to bury himself six feet down under and scaring everyone close to him into watching his every move.
He placated her, explaining that training with Bellatrix which was akin to going into battle every day. It was no wonder he was tired and distant as a result.
On the other, Pansy wasn't impressed.
I'm sure he's exhausted. I'd bet on it, but it's not that. This time of year…well he shuts down.
She hadn't had the opportunity to ask Pansy for more, since Draco had stumbled back in from the Floo effectively ending the conversation.
She sighed and hugged her sides, glancing down at her half-finished translation. From what she'd uncovered, it seemed like a history text. A story about a group of wizards who had been researching bonds between runes and magic and even the primal properties of magic. It was fascinating, but at the same time it left her wondering why they had fought so hard to defend it.
It was vague, and the concept of bonding between substances was hardly dark or a guarantee of great power, both of which Voldemort and his Death Eaters prized before all else.
It hardly seemed worth dying for, and yet she almost had. There had to be more to it than this.
She leaned back and her foot came up and kicked the bottom of the desk. She winced then frowned at the seemingly hollow side that she'd kicked. Biting her lip, she bent down and knocked against the wood.
Again, she heard the hollow sound.
It occurred to her that she should probably respect Draco's privacy, but she was annoyed with him, and that coupled with her own unhealthy curiosity made for a dangerous combination. She grasped for her wand and began a series of revealing spells, which led to unlocking spells.
She begrudgingly felt admiration at Draco's skill. It took her nearly an hour to break through to the small cupboard in the side of the desk. The wards had been impressive.
Hesitantly, she pushed open the small trap door and examined the few contents within the cupboard. There was a drawstring purse filled with galleons tucked in towards the back along with several documents. These she examined and found they contained several business contracts and… forged identification papers.
Escape routes.
She pushed the thought of why Draco would feel the need to plan for such an emergency out of her mind as she refocused on the cupboard. She stretched her hand in further and came away with a simple black journal.
Opening the cover, a photograph fell into her lap.
Her eyes were immediately drawn to the center figure, a platinum blonde child fidgeting between his two parents.
She studied Draco for a minute. He looked thin in the photograph and little paler than normal, but his expression caught her by surprise. There was something in his eyes, something tinged with exhaustion that made her think he looked beaten down...like survival in physical form. She watched as his figure moved in the photo, alternating between a forced small smile and a faraway look.
Always lost in thought.
She drifted her attention to Draco's right and took in Narcissa Malfoy. She looked beautiful, as she had when she'd been alive. Her hair fell in slight waves, pulled entirely to one side and exposing her slender neck. Her posture was perfect, except for the instances her figure bent her head to regard the child to her side.
Narcissa's figure would smile slightly at her son, her eyes shining with uncontainable happiness.
Like she's thankful he's sitting there beside her.
Unsettled, her eyes darted to the final figure in the photograph.
Lucius Malfoy sat as proud and composed as she'd ever seen him. Though, he, like Narcissa, would periodically shift his attention to the child between him and his wife. His eyes seemed tired and weary as he watched Draco fidget, but for a second his lips would quirk upward.
She nearly dropped the photograph. Had she seen Lucius Malfoy smile?
She shook her head replacing the photograph before flipping to the first entry of the journal.
Narcissa Black Malfoy.
His mother's journal.
She flipped through the pages, various dates circled and accompanied by entries and occasional photos. She stopped at one page, her fingers lightly pressed to the parts of the page that was decorated with tear stains long dried.
April 9th, 1990.
She scanned the beginning of the letter, but the ink was blurred. She leaned in closer, and suddenly felt her stomach twist as she was lurched forward.
Cursed.
It was the immediate explanation, but when she opened her eyes, she began to doubt that conclusion.
She was in a room with no windows and a solitary bed pushed up to the far wall. In it was a small boy with a shock of platinum hair.
Draco.
He looked to be about the same age as the photograph that she'd examined before, only now he was propped up on a mountain of pillows behind him. She saw Lucius standing not far from the head of the bed.
A memory.
When she'd leaned into the page, she must have activated an enchantment. It was amazing, with properties similar to a pensieve but embedded into the pages of a journal. How had Narcissa done this?
She was torn from her musings when the figures before her began to speak.
"Hello Father." Draco's voice was scratchy, but aside from that he looked the picture of an obedient child. His back was straight and his bright gray eyes focused on his father's.
"You seem to have settled into the room well."
She shook her head. So formal. This wasn't how she'd imagine a father and son conversed; devoid of warmth.
"The healers have made everything comfortable." Draco said, his voice still strained, but unwavering.
Lucius nodded and shocked her when he sat at the edge of the mattress and reached out to touch his son's shoulder.
"You are here to get better Draco." He pursed his lips, "You will get better. You know why?"
When Draco dipped his head in a small nod, Lucius continued.
"You are a Malfoy; both in will and temperament." A faint smile passed quickly on Lucius's face, "You are strong. Now show me what you were practicing."
Draco leant forward, threading and unthreading his fingers together, before a determined look crossed his face.
He took a deep breath, before holding his hand out.
She stepped closer, entranced at the scene.
Sparks shot from Draco's palms and grew into a small flame.
It was impressive magic, and to be so controlled at 9. It blew her away.
Draco's face lit up in delight, but quickly fell when the flames fizzled out and died. He'd obviously thought he could maintain it for longer.
Lucius nodded with a satisfied expression on his face.
"I can make it last longer." Draco bit his lip, but Lucius put his hand again to his shoulder with a slight shake of his head.
"Save your strength." It was issued as a command, but the emotions evident on Lucius's face reached her from across the room.
Pride. Fear. Worry.
He stood in one motion and seemed to float to the edge of the room, where the door leading out to what she guessed was the hall to the rest of St. Mungo's.
"I will see you again this evening."
Like that Lucius was gone.
When it was clear that his father's footsteps had faded away, Draco slumped forward, exhaustion etched into his young face.
She felt her body move forward of its own accord, and she realized she must be acting out whatever Narcissa had done at the time.
She sat on the mattress and her hands went to smooth out the messed strands of Draco's fine hair.
"Mum." Draco pulled away slowly and looked at her, his eyes shining brightly.
"Yes my love." The words fell from her lips.
He bit his lip before looking down at his hands.
"Am I going to die?"
Her breath caught in her throat.
Draco looked up at her quickly, hearing the shift in her breathing. He always was too perceptive for his own good.
"No darling." She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close so that his head was resting against her chest.
"But I must be. He wouldn't comfort me if he thought I was fine." Draco's voice was muffled against her body, but his words were easy enough to make out. They tore her heart in two.
She took a breath, letting her fingers continue to comb through his hair.
"You are sick Draco darling, but you are so strong. I know you will get better." She took a breath, "Don't you trust me?" She forced her voice to keep from breaking, even as her eyes stung with unshed tears.
He nodded slightly, but trembled beneath her firm grasp. "Mum. It hurts." He murmured, and she felt his thin body shake with his silent sobs.
"I know love." She pulled him closer and planted a kiss on the top of his head. She felt her own tears fall from her eyes, unbidden. "Why don't you sleep now? Perhaps you'll dream of flying. You love to do that don't you?" She was impressed by her voice, or rather Narcissa's voice, and how it remained firm and steady. Draco nodded against her chest.
She began humming a tune, she didn't recognize, and after a while her humming turned into soft singing in a language she recognized as French.
The dragon went to the moon.
To the moon
To the moon
And made a home in the stars
In the stars.
In the stars.
The words fell back into a gentle hum, when she realized that Draco had fallen asleep in her arms. She let out a breath, while closing her eyes. Tears were still falling.
When she opened them again, she was back in the study. Quickly, she wiped her face from the water stains and the fresh tears that were quickly looking to replace them.
She felt another presence, and half turned her face to see Pansy come in and shut the study door. Her eyes drifted to the journal still on the desk.
"I see you found Narcissa's diary."
Pansy stepped closer and her eyes focused on the date. She waited, unsure exactly what Pansy's reaction would be. She had effectively violated Draco's privacy and his mother's, yet Pansy didn't seem enraged on their behalf. In fact, she seemed oddly curious, cautious, as though she was waiting for Hermione's reaction in order to determine her next move.
Pansy sighed, with a small smile tinged in melancholy.
"This was the day Draco was hospitalized at St. Mungo's."
Hermione cleared her throat.
"Blaise told me he was there for 6 months."
Pansy nodded after a moment.
"I'll always admire Narcissa for that time." Pansy said, "She never once broke down in front of Draco."
She hugged her sides and was surprised when Pansy came closer and offered her a handkerchief from her pocket.
"It must have been horrible."
Pansy nodded again before closing the journal and replacing it in the desk drawer.
"He misses her something fierce. Especially around this time of year." Pansy furrowed her brows, "Her birthday was this month."
Her eyes widened. Was that why he'd been so withdrawn lately? It made sense. He was liable to shut down whenever his emotions got a run on him. Their 7th year was a prime example.
"Look out for him Granger, but don't take his shit." Pansy said giving her shoulder a squeeze.
She shook her head. "I don't even know where to start."
Draco sighed looking at the empty frame before him. He'd hoped that he might find the portrait occupied. Though, with a shake of his head, he realized how foolish it was. Confronting a portrait wouldn't give him answers.
"Why are you haunting me?" he murmured. He was so absorbed in his study of the empty frame he didn't notice when another presence joined him.
"It's been empty for a while."
He didn't turn at the sound of his father's voice.
Light footsteps sounded until they stood shoulder to shoulder looking at the empty frame before them.
"I should have expected as much." He said turning slightly. Lucius gave a sharp nod before turning his face to meet him head on.
He resisted the urge to squirm, as he always did, under his father's gaze.
"I heard from Rodolphus."
Nothing else. No inquiry on how he was. No words of sympathy and shared grief.
He was angry then. Angry at Lucius and angry that Rodolophus had crawled to his father in hope he would put him in his place.
"Oh?" He bit out.
"Be careful who you anger Draco, or at least be prepared to deal with the fallout."
"Whether I am prepared or not is not your concern." He snapped.
"I taught you better manners than this Draco." Lucius's voice rose marginally.
Draco snapped his entire body to face his father. He met his gaze, unflinching. "Then I'm sorry I am not the son you wanted me to be." He hated that his words weren't completely sarcastic. He hated that buried in them was very real sentiment. He'd given everything; his wellbeing, his sanity, in his foolish delusions to please Lucius. He'd never been enough, and for once, he was happy to finally have the opportunity to voice his struggles out loud.
Lucius looked at him hard, and he swore he saw him flinch slightly.
"You are your own man," Lucius began, "but you will not act like anything less than the scion of your house, this house's head…"
"Like the Lord Malfoy that I was raised to be." He interrupted, "Tell me father, how can a lord serve another lord?"
He was ranting, and he found how easy it was for his anger to take control and guide his words.
"And is this the place of lords, is this a game of kings? Look around us, and tell me you see anything but death." Draco nearly shouted while gesturing all around him. Lucius flinched, but did not speak.
"Did you act as a lord when you bowed to another? When you sacrificed your lady for a master-"
"Enough." Lucius exclaimed.
Draco clenched his jaw shut, and in seconds his head had whipped to the side. The imprint of his father's hand burning into his skin.
"You forget your place. I am your father."
"And yet, I outrank you in the order you have pledged us too." He hissed.
"Do you think this began with you or me or my father?" Lucius said, sneering at him.
Draco schooled his features, letting the muscles of his face slacken. The fire in his anger had calmed into his familiar biting cold. If anything, he was more dangerous that way. He looked at his father, truly looked at him. He could see how hard it was for Lucius to remain even marginally composed. His breathing was slightly erratic and a vein near his temple looked to be throbbing with his anger. Yet, there was something within his father's eyes, something darker and filled with sorrow. If he didn't know any better, he would think it was regret.
"Then are we fated to follow the mistakes of those who came before us?" Draco said lowly. Lucius stilled, bearing his own grey eyes into his.
"You are my father, but sometimes I wonder whether I am your son."
Lucius flinched.
As much as he wanted to, he couldn't bring himself to lord over this one crack he'd managed in his father's impervious expression. His voice dropped, but he found that oddly, these words were louder than any shouts.
"Was I your son all those times you had only contempt and disdain for me in your eyes? And for what? For things I could not control? For a handful of failures? Was I not worth more than that? Was the blood we share not worth anything when you let them thrust an impossible task and a death sentence on my shoulders?"
Lucius had paled and was shakily stepping forward. Draco blinked as his vision blurred. He turned his head and was surprised at the thin layer of moisture that was dispelled at the motion.
"You are my son." Lucius whispered.
"And yet, I have no idea what that means." Draco murmured in reply before stepping away and fleeing the Manor.
He tried not to catch the final whispers Lucius had uttered during his escape.
You are worth more. You are your mother's son.
He shouldn't have allowed himself to leave so angry from the Manor when he knew he had training later. It couldn't be helped. If anything, the outburst had been long overdue.
He sighed, willing his heart to calm and his mind to clear. After about 5 minutes, he let out a long breath. He was about as calm as he was going to get.
Pushing himself off the wall he'd been leaning on, he moved into the training room that had become his home away from home.
Bellatrix was on him as soon as he entered the room.
"You're late." she announced.
He didn't have time to even offer an excuse before he felt the familiar pricks of Bellatrix examining his mind. It happened so suddenly that he did not have time to fully pull together the normal jumble of thoughts he reserved for these brain probs. His defenses were quick to come up, but to his horror parts trickled through, and he saw it flash before his eyes. The portrait frame.
Bellatrix pulled away, her gaze hard and heavy. For once, her eyes were not hooded and glazed over in the familiar madness he'd constantly attributed to her. He steeled himself in preparation for her outburst.
Instead, she took a sharp breath.
"She had weakness in her blood. Best be sure you don't have it in you as well my dear nephew." She gave him a hard look that only drove him cold in these moments of her clear sanity. "We have enough graves in our family I think."
He nodded numbly, letting his face morph into his familiar mask.
She gave him one last look before she drew her wand. Her message was clear. We have other things to worry about now.
He moved to reach for his wand, but she stopped him.
"Wandless today."
He bit the inside of his lip, but nodded. He could defend himself well enough wandless. He'd certainly had enough practice.
After an hour, he felt that he had seriously misjudged his capabilities. That, or he'd misjudged Bellatrix's response to his stray thoughts.
It felt like punishment.
His ears were ringing, and the pain in his head was blurring his vision. He took a breath and was pleased to see his shield still held.
He shot a stinging hex at his aunt quickly, but even through his haze, he knew it was weak. His reserves were fading too quickly and a simple hex was nothing on the spells Bellatrix was hurling without mercy. He managed a flimsy Disillusionment charm before sending hex after hex in rapid succession.
He followed it quickly by knocking her off balance and spinning to the opposite wall.
The look on her face was murderous. Before he knew it, he was flat on his stomach, completely immobilized. His hands were pressed in front of him and in a quick motion Bellatrix stomped on them.
He bit his lip refusing to cry out, focusing his thoughts on anything but the pain.
"Drive the weakness from you." She spat before stepping away from him.
He opened his eyes and met her gaze, steel on iron.
Her eyes drifted to the blood, now flowing freely from his fingers. The clarity from before settled again in her gaze, and he wondered, not for the first time, how his aunt had been before the madness had overtaken her. Her eyes narrowed momentarily.
"Do not heal them." She spat before she left him, dropping the immobilization as she disappeared.
He stumbled as he rose to his feet before fumbling for his wand to seal the cuts and torn bits of his skin. He wouldn't heal them, but he'd be damned before he bled to death from the wounds. He refused to die by Bellatrix's hand. The thought made him ill and murderous.
He stalked out of the room, dragging his feet and instead of heading for the Floo he turned the corner and found himself in a cellar. His hands moved on their own accord as he grabbed any and all alcoholic drinks he could find before collapsing on the ground.
He uncorked the first bottle and poured some over his hands, hissing as the alcohol fell over his wounds. Then he put the bottle to his mouth and drank until he couldn't feel the burning coming from his fingers.
He couldn't be sure how long he sat on the floor of the dank and musty basement, sniffling from the dust and drinking bottle after bottle. Though, after a while, he wasn't sure he cared. He was vaguely aware of footsteps and a body dropping down to sit beside him.
"What the fuck happened to you?"
He closed his eyes and didn't resist when Theo pulled the bottle from his hand.
"Holy fuck." Theo exclaimed.
Ah. He saw his hands.
"Don't." Draco croaked when he saw Theo reach for his wand. "Don't heal them."
Theo shot him an incredulous look before murmuring a spell to conjure bandages around his wounds.
He watched him. Theo, one of his oldest friends, bend over and set about bandaging his near broken fingers. He supposed if anyone could understand, could actually relate to this hell, it was Theo. It was probably what forced him to speak his next words.
"Theo."
He looked up from where his head was bent down focusing on tying the gauze.
"Do you ever miss your Mum?"
Theo took a sharp breath before meeting his eyes. Recognition flashed in Theo's wide green eyes.
"All the time."
He bit his lip before giving him a slight nod, which was the wrong move as his head swam and blurred his vision.
"Steady mate." Theo said before shoving a vial into his hands.
"Sober Up." he continued watching him very carefully.
Draco uncorked the vial with difficulty before downing the whole thing. He waited until his vision sharpened and the pain roared in his head and his hands. He figured that meant he was sober.
Theo helped him up and they walked slowly up the steps to the Floo on the main floor.
"Let's get you home."
He stepped out of the Floo and immediately went for the balcony. Theo followed and with shaky hands he accepted the cigarette Theo offered.
"I didn't know you still smoked." He said lighting the cigarette with his thumb.
"I don't, but I think I need it tonight." Theo said, taking a long drag.
Draco nodded before running his hand through his hair and absently gazing out at the scenery.
Hermione looked up quickly from her book at the sound of the Floo. Pansy mimicked her from across the room. She caught the other girl's face tighten at the lack of noise that immediately followed. Slowly, Pansy rose and motioned for Hermione to follow slowly behind her.
When they reached the living room, they both relaxed at the sight of both Draco and Theo out on the balcony.
Were they smoking?
Pansy scowled before stomping toward them.
At that moment, Theo turned and noticed them. In one quick step, he came into the room and blocked Pansy from reaching Draco.
"You gave him a cigarette. Honestly Theo, both of your lungs…"
"He needed it." Theo snapped before looking nervously back out to Draco. "Gods Pans, you should see the state of his hands."
Hermione felt her gut tighten before she slipped passed the two, who were still arguing, and out to the balcony.
Draco didn't turn to greet her, instead he seemed entirely focused on the smoke in his hands.
"I didn't know you smoked." She began, unsure what to say. She took in the bandages on his hands and grimaced at the edges of scars and dried blood on the gauze.
"Nah. I quit." Draco said taking the cigarette from his mouth and putting it out on the railing.
He still hadn't met her gaze, and she was torn with wanting to draw him up in her arms and slapping him out of whatever haze he was operating under.
When he still didn't speak, her heart hardened. She would not take this from him anymore.
"Theo. Pansy." She called out, "Leave. Now."
Draco gave her a funny look, but it almost looked like he was smirking.
The other two looked ready to protest, but were silenced with a single look. Frankly, she was in the mood to draw blood.
When the Floo called out with their exit, she dragged Draco back inside and cast a silencing spell in one single motion. She pushed him down on the couch and folded her arms.
"We are going to talk. Now."
Draco shook his head. "I don't know what you want from me."
"Anything. Christ anything. Just tell me something Draco."
His head was already pounding and his ears were ringing.
You are worth more. You are your mother's son.
She had weakness in her blood.
We have enough graves in our family.
Fuck what was one more argument today.
"You say that, but if you knew a fraction, you'd probably decide to take your chances out there than stick with me." he said evenly.
"It's my choice. My decision…"
"You don't know what you're asking of me." His voice rose.
"Then tell me." she shouted, "Tell me anything. Fuck look at you. I will not sit by and watch you fall apart."
He flinched.
"I don't know how to be anything other than this" he said, his voice only slightly raised.
"Then let me help." She bit her lip, "I told you I wouldn't do this unless you were open with me. You do everything you can to suppress your emotions because it hurts, but it hurts more that way Draco. And I won't sit by and watch my own boyfriend self-destruct…" She trailed off finally noticing how his shoulders were shaking.
She looked up at his face and caught him smiling slightly mouthing 'boyfriend'.
"Gods," He whispered, "I love you."
She froze.
Had he really…
"I think I've loved you this entire time."
She dropped to her knees in front of him and palmed her hands on each side of his face. He looked at her, his grey eyes glassy before he rested his forehead on hers.
She leaned in and kissed him slowly, and he tasted like smoke, firewhiskey, and something that seemed purely him. When he began to deepen it, she tore herself away. She wouldn't let him cop out of this by distracting her, even if he was talented with his tongue.
He seemed to understand what she meant, but he kept his mouth on the corner of hers. "I will. I want to tell you everything."
She nodded.
He pulled away and then lifted her from the floor to sit beside him.
He hesitated, unsure what to say. She clasped his hands between hers, taking care to mind the bandages. "Start at the beginning."
And she could honestly say she meant the beginning. If he started with his first memory, she would gladly listen to his entire life story.
He bit his lip.
"The sorting hat started talking to me before it touched my head."
She stayed silent, but inside she was marveling at the fact.
"It told me that my mind was what would set me apart from everyone. It would either be my weapon or my tool."
Ravenclaw or Slytherin.
"I told it that all I was was a weapon, and that the real question was where I would fall. When it touched my head, it called out Slytherin."
She could imagine it. At the age of 11, how he'd already developed all the skills that fit the typical Slytherin. He was born with self-preservation, but he was also aware of where he stood and what he could possibly gain. He was cunning. No one could deny that, and all of it was contained in that one sentence.
"I used to think back to that year a lot. There were so many choices that...things could have been different." He bit the inside of his cheek, "I mean, I almost didn't go to Hogwarts."
She nodded. She remembered hearing something about that. Her eyes roamed over him. Thank goodness he had.
"Durmstrang." She said, "That's where you could have gone right?"
He nodded. "Father wanted me to go there, but I…" he swallowed roughly, "I got really sick right before, and they decided they didn't want me to go very far away."
Her grip tightened on his hands, and she saw him grimace. She couldn't help it. This was the first time he'd mentioned it himself, and that coupled with the memory she'd visited this afternoon made it all seem so raw. Just how many brushes with death had Draco had?
"Well, I'm glad you came to Hogwarts, regardless of the reasoning." She whispered, easing her hold around his hands.
He shot her a thin smile before nodding.
"Even with all the teasing and taunts?"
"I gave as good as I got." She sniffed.
He laughed, leaning back into the couch and pulling her closer to him.
"Definitely." He agreed, resting his head between her neck and shoulder.
She smiled as he pressed a light kiss to her collarbone before straightening.
He looked her over for a moment before letting out a shaky breath. "I fought with my father today."
She dropped his hands. "Did he…" She looked down at the bandages.
Draco shook his head, fiddling with the edges of the gauze. "No. That was Bellatrix. Though, ironically, I don't think she would have done it if I hadn't argued with my father beforehand." He mused with a half-smile pulled tight on his lips.
He shook his head, suddenly looking incredibly exhausted.
"What did you argue about?" she asked softly.
"Everything." He murmured.
She waited.
"All the expectations, the threats I've received from the other Death Eaters, the Dark Lord's uncanny interest in me…"
"Threats?" She asked sharply.
He winced, as though he'd suddenly realized what he'd said. "I may not have been taking them as seriously as I should have, but," he continued noticing her about to open her mouth to protest, "That changed with my confrontation with Rodolphus."
She forced out the encounter and was practically fuming when the story was told. She couldn't believe he hadn't said a word about it. Mentally, she attempted to pinpoint when exactly the event could have occurred. When she had, a sharp stab of guilt went through her.
The night at his shop.
Draco was watching her intently, and she let out a sigh. It wouldn't do to dwell on it now. For what it was worth, he'd told her eventually.
She studied his face before she spoke.
"That's not all you argued about is it?"
He winced before shaking his head. "We argued about my mum. Bellatrix sensed it, and that's why she…" he trailed off and lifted his hands.
She grimaced before gently taking them into her own and pressing light kisses to each of his fingers.
She looked up and saw him watching her intently.
"You miss her." she murmured. She could relate to that. Her mother wasn't even dead, but to her, she might as well have been.
His breath hitched before he nodded slightly.
"Tell me about her."
He looked away from her, letting his eyes rest on the balcony door. "She was the only person I knew for sure would always be there."
He let out a weak laugh. "Gods that sounds like utter shit now, but…"
She squeezed his hand as much as she dared without hurting him.
"The Manor was a big, empty, lonely place. Theo visited whenever he could. Blaise lived further away. Pans, well, after her mum tried to force a betrothal, her visits became more monitored." Draco's lips quirked up, "Mother was all I had. Her and the library."
"You were a bookworm?" She asked lightly.
He grinned. "I'd have given you a run for your money. I lived in there." He grew more serious. "I wish you could have seen it, the way it was before."
They grew silent as Draco got lost in the familiar edges of his mind. He shut his eyes, and she listened as he seemed to focus only on each breath he had to take. When he opened his eyes again, not long after, he began to speak.
"Her birthday was the 28th." he murmured, "She never liked to celebrate it. She'd always say that it wasn't the day that mattered the most to her."
She nodded when he looked back to her. His eyes drifted back down to their entwined hands. "She said my birthday was the best day of her life. I don't know why."
She frowned. "Why wouldn't it be?"
He grimaced, "She had a really difficult pregnancy with me. Not healthy at all. The Healers said there would be complications and that it would be safer if she terminated it early."
Her heart pounded, and she didn't realize she'd clasped his hands too hard until his sharp intake of breath. She loosened her grip and before she could stop herself, she'd wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him so that his face was nestled in her shoulder.
She felt him smile against her collarbone. "I'm fine. I'm here now." he soothed.
He sighed and pulled his head up, but brought his arms around her waist to keep her close.
"Then she went into labor a month early, and the damage from it… She nearly died, and then they told her she couldn't have any more children." he shook his head, "And I know she wanted more, but I ruined that for her."
She pressed a kiss to his jaw. "You know that it actually wasn't your fault."
He nodded.
"I know." he breathed.
"But in the end, she still ended up dying because of me."
She pulled away and found his eyes clouded over. She could feel the guilt that was overflowing from them.
The story of Narcissa's lie had been one she'd painfully pulled from Harry not long after he'd recovered. It had unsettled both Harry and her. For Harry, it had hit a little too close to home, too similar to a past he, himself, barely remembered. For her, it had left her wondering what this mother's death had done to her son.
She took her hands from around him and combed through his hair before letting them rest at the sides of his jaw.
"She loved you Draco. She loved you so much. She wouldn't have wanted you to blame yourself for a choice she made." She bit her lip, "Especially a choice, I know, she would have made over and over again for you."
His breath hitched, and it came out strangled and too much like a sob. She pressed her lips against his, hard, and quickly let him take over. They broke away slowly, though he kept his mouth pressed to the corner of hers.
"I haven't been back to her grave since she was buried." he whispered.
"Where is she buried?"
"The Black estates. It was too dangerous to have her buried in the Malfoy plot."
Ah. Loyalties. They couldn't give Voldemort any more reason to question their rather precarious position.
"I think you should visit her." she said softly.
He nodded, still pressed against her face. "I love you." He murmured again.
She smiled slightly before pressing her lips behind his ear and trailing them down his neck. He let out a shuddering breath and tilted his head to the side.
She trailed down lower, feeling raised scars along his collar bone. She tugged at his shirt, and the action seemed to wake him up, because in a second he'd recaptured her lips with his own.
"I love you Draco. I've loved you since 7th year, and Christ, I never stopped."
He groaned, kissing her slowly before peppering light kisses down her neck. When he paused, with his hands playing with the hem of her shirt, she gave him a slight nod before he tore it off.
"Tell me…" He broke away from sucking on the skin between her breasts. "Tell me when to stop."
She tilted his chin up. "Never."
He looked at her shocked, giving her the opportunity to tear his shirt off. He dropped his head to her neck and resumed his sucking. Her fingers drifted from his collarbone as she traced the scars across his chest. Some she recognized, the faded sectumsempra scars; others…her hand rested on the ones that stretched from his clavicle down toward his left shoulder. They looked like claw marks…. like fangs.
He lifted his head. "Nagini. I'm glad that bloody thing is dead." He muttered before roughly picking her up and heading toward his bedroom.
"When?" She whispered as he dropped her on the bed.
"After Dumbledore." He muttered tracing his own hands down the few scars and bruises on her own body.
"No more talking." He mumbled against her skin.
She nodded, and lifted her hips. The pants were first, then everything else.
"This was all I was imagining after the Winter Ball." He whispered kissing her full on the mouth, before moving his fingers to her core.
"Draco." She hissed.
"Hermione." He whispered reverently. "You're breathtaking."
She wrapped her legs around him and her hands were running through his hair. "I'm glad you think so."
"Cheeky." He murmured, shoving his fingers to stroke faster.
"Only to you, Draco. Only you."
They were devouring each other. One moment, he'd be in control, and the next she'd have flipped the dynamic. They unraveled each other, and by the time she came and he followed a moment later, she was seeing stars and unable to breath.
He collapsed on top of her before sliding to her side, pulling her into him.
She took his hands and pressed her lips to his battered hands.
"So you love me huh?" Draco whispered with his lips against her shoulder.
"I did say that, didn't I?" she said, stifling a yawn.
"No taking it back now."
She craned her neck up to look at him. "Never."