Author's Note: When I imagined Draco's apartment, all I could think of the inside of Karl Lagerfield's home so that is loosely what inspired the description in this chapter (google and be amazed with his incredible library collection!) There are a few details to this chapter that were very important to me to include but I won't get into talking about them until you have had a chance to read it. All I will say is that we start to see a little bit more of how Draco has grown since his Hogwarts years.
When Hermione reappeared holding Crookshanks and standing by Draco's side she was relieved by the reassuring sight of London's downtown buildings all around them. She had forgotten to verify that they would not be going to Malfoy Manor prior to Apparating, a place that she was all too familiar with and not the least bit eager to see again. What Hermione did not know was that Draco shared the sentiment.
"This way," he said and nodded towards the massive building in front of them. A doorman was waiting, opening the large glass doors as they approached. He greeted them with a polite "good evening Mr. Malfoy" but Hermione sensed his curiosity about her. Given that Draco didn't pause to talk, neither did she.
Taking the elevator up, she watched as the numbers lit up until there wasn't any digits left and the ding of the doors opening revealed a narrow hallway with only a single door at the end. When they arrived, Hermione was amazed by the sprawling interior of the penthouse. It was unlike any apartment she had ever seen with wall- to-wall windows that surveyed the entire cityscape. Stark white minimalism and modern furniture, the only space not made up of windows was the towering library of bookshelves in one corner of the apartment.
Hermione was entranced with the sight and momentarily forgot that she was still standing in the front doorway. Crookshanks scrambled out of her arms, disappearing to investigate the home.
"Make yourself at home," Draco said as he peered at her curiously, faintly amused as she gravitated towards the open library. He could have predicted that she would have been more intrigued with the towering shelves then the expensive art that decorated the home.
"I didn't realize you liked to read so much," she said aloud in wonder, forgetting for only a brief moment the evening's circumstances that had lead her to his doorstep. She caught herself before asking if he did in fact read them, knowing it was a rude question.
He scoffed as he walked over to the nearby brass bar cart, pouring himself a tumbler of firewhiskey; he gestured to a second glass but Hermione shook her head at the offer.
Draco caught the suggestion in her words. "I'll have you know I was quite the studious young wizard in my younger years. Best in my classes, thank you very much."
"Best?" She said wryly.
He rolled his eyes and took a sip, "Fine, second best. As I recall there was only witch who ever beat me in academics. Cleverest witch of her time, they say."
She smiled at the compliment, brown eyes meeting icy blue ones. She found herself uncharacteristically shy under his gaze and quickly turned back to the book shelves to hide a creeping blush. Her fingers running over the binding as she scanned the titles: Potion books, field guides for foraging ingredients, several dozen pieces of literature on the art of legillmency. What surprised her most was his collection of poetry, Muggle authors intermixed with names she recognized as wizards and witches. Hermione plucked one book from it's place, opening a copy of
Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair.
"You know, you were the one that made me realize what I had been taught about Muggles was wrong," Draco said softly.
"Excuse me?" Hermione replied, dumbfounded by his statement.
"I never would have admitted it back then. I had been told all my life that it was my pureblood heritage made my magical skills superior," Draco said slowly, casting his eyes at the amber liquid as if scrying for the proper words in the bottom of the glass. "But along came this curly-haired muggleborn witch who turned my narrow little world upside down. She was brilliant, better than me at just about every subject. She had a pretty mean right swing too." A flash of a smile tugged at his lips, Hermione was still trying to make sense of his words. "I know it doesn't change much given what all happened, but it was something I thought you should know. It made me question a lot of other things I had been told."
"I…I don't know what to say," Hermione replied.
Sensing he had put her in an uncomfortable discussion, Draco was quick to change the subject. "Yes, well I am sure you are quite tired after this whole ordeal. A conversation for another time."
"Aren't you? Tired, I mean." Hermione replied as saw him take another sip of firewhiskey. Draco was not about to admit that his reoccurring insomnia made sleep a rare and fleeting commodity. "
"I will be going to bed shortly myself," he lied. Nodding to a door down the hallway, he added. "There is a bathroom the first door on the left, guest bedroom is the second door."
Hermione nodded, saying her thank you's and good night before she retreated to the guest bedroom. She didn't even turn on the light as she stripped to her undershirt and slipped under the covers. The horrors of the evening were abated by the tendrils of sleep that crept into her mind, drowning her thoughts in a dreamless oblivion. Even so, her hand still clutched her wand even as she fell asleep almost the instant her head touched the pillow.
It was nearly 11AM when Hermione woke up perhaps the latest she had ever slept in years. The trickle of late morning sunlight filtered across the wooden floor and revealed the room's interior that she hadn't seen the night before. She saw a guest robe hanging in the closet and put it on before she peered outside the door to see if Draco was awake. To her surprise, she saw him sitting at the island counter with Crookshanks cozying up to the wizard. Draco was scratching behind that cat's ear absently as he read the morning newspaper. Whenever the wizard would pause in his affection, the large feline would seemingly scowl and nudge Draco's hand forcefully until he resumed.
"Fine, fine. You really are a persistent little bloke," Draco muttered even though he didn't hide a faint smile.
Hermione couldn't believe her feline familiar was so affectionate with the former Slytherin, as far as Crookshanks was concerned there were very few people worthy of his approval. Given the events of their third year at Hogwarts and Crookshanks keen sense of judgment in those days, she trusted the animal's opinion far more then she did of most.
"Good morning you two," Hermione said and both Draco and Crookshanks looked up. The cat leaped off the counter and darted under feet with a loud purr.
"Did you sleep well?" Draco asked as he got up and offered his seat to her. Hermione accepted, sitting down on the stool and glancing at the newspaper in front of her. The headlines were scarred with more attacks and Hermione realized she didn't have the stomach to read the details so shortly after waking up. She folded the paper up and pushed it aside.
"Well enough," she said as Draco wordlessly put a cup of tea in front of her and a plate of pancakes. For someone who had spent the better part of her young adulthood in the world of magic, Hermione's expression of surprise would have suggested the idea of Draco in the kitchen was an unfathomable act of wizardry itself.
"Curb the shock, Granger," he said dryly. "But don't be too impressed either, pancakes are just about the only thing I can make."
She laughed and took a bite and despite Draco's words, Hermione was nonetheless impressed. It wasn't until a few more bites did Hermione realize how hungry she had been. As the witch ate, a thought suddenly occurred to her. "Do you not have a house elf?"
"No," he answered, slightly surprised. "You didn't notice something different about this building when you came in last night?"
She shook her head.
"This entire building is owned and run by Muggles. They have services to cover just about anything I might need like taking care of the occasional errand. Which reminds me, I had someone bring by a few outfits for you since I know you weren't able to pack anything last night."
Hermione saw a neat stack of apparel boxes stacked on the nearby couch. The witch was moved by the thoughtful gesture. "Thank you, Draco. You really didn't have to go to the trouble."
"It wasn't any trouble, just a quick call really."
"So why this building? I mean, I would think you would have preferred something closer to Diagon Alley."
"Muggles have better real estate," he said with a shrug. "I don't exactly run with the pureblood high society crowd these days so it doesn't much matter to me if it isn't considered within the acceptable zip code."
Hermione nodded in understanding. It was becoming easier to see this version of Draco Malfoy, the self-assured and redeemed man, then the person she once knew him to be. Physically, Hermione realized he almost looked like a different wizard. The years had chiseled his features, carving high cheekbones and a strong jawline in his pale complexion. Even his blonde hair had become noticeably lighter, falling just above his shoulders. His silver blue eyes were softer with a glimpse of melancholy that Hermione never had noticed in their school days.
But even the smell of nutmeg and maple syrup coupled with the playful banter wasn't enough to push away the memories of the evening's horrors. The memory of her fallen friend Sanguini came rushing back to her. Draco noticed the shift and saw the sadness cast a shadow across the witch's demeanor. "Hey," he said softly, leaning across the island counter just enough that his gaze was level with her own, "we will find whoever killed him."
Hermione appreciated that there was a sense of action in his words, not merely comfort. Whether there was conviction behind that promise or that it was merely a gesture of placation remained to be seen but Hermione felt it was the former. Just then there was a knock at the door.
Draco glanced at the clock and nodded to himself as he said aloud, "Figures they would drop in early."
"Who?"
"Your entourage," he replied and went to the front door. Hermione looked curiously down the hallway to see him open the door and reveal the familiar sight of Harry and Ginny.
"HERMIONE! THANK MERLIN YOU ARE OKAY!" Ginny said as she pushed past Draco to see her friend. There were tears in the redheaded witch's eyes as she gave Hermione a hug. She wondered to herself whether it was pregnancy hormones that Ginny so distraught or perhaps she had genuinely feared Draco might have been feeding Hermione to a dragon by now.
Still dressed in a robe and caught off guard by the arrival of her two friends, Hermione didn't know what to say other then 'good morning' and 'I'm fine, really' as she returned the hug. Harry, she could see, was standing beside Draco looking awkward in the unfamiliar environment.
"They owled a little bit ago," Draco explained, with a hint of annoyance. "I thought I had said I would let them know when you were awake before they came over."
"You should have just come to our place, Hermione," Ginny said with furrowed brow. Hermione didn't have the courage to tell her friend that she looked a great deal like the older Weasley matriarch in that instance. "You didn't have to come here."
Ginny didn't mask her contempt for Draco and Hermione instinctively wanted to put herself between the two as a safeguard for the Slytherin alumna. Just in case her pregnant friend decided Draco needed to get acquainted with a bat boogey hex simply for existing in her presence.
"Ginny, I came here because Draco was kind enough to offer his home," Hermione said. "Whatever is going on right now could be dangerous for those around me. I didn't want to put you or Harry in danger; you have bigger priorities now then getting involved in whatever is going on."
"We want to help though, Hermione," Harry said with quiet earnestness.
Hermione didn't want to involve her dear friend but knew that without help Draco and her weren't going to be able to bring Compton Enterprises down nor seek justice for Sanguini. As the death toll began to rise, Hermione realized that this situation was far graver then she could have imagined. If Trocar's words had been true then a civil war was brewing.
"Okay," Hermione breathed, "this is what we need to do…"