Chapter Two

2007

"But I really think it's better this way

The more you suffer

The more it shows you really care, right? Yeah."

"Self Esteem" by Offspring

Draco spent days and even months on end doing the same things again and again, usually the muggle way because even with his wand he struggled with the simplest spells. It was just easier to climb the small ladders and pull boxes of files down by hand. When he searched in a section he hadn't been in before (the Archives were huge), he'd take his time and try to memorise the headers and some of the files so he would be faster next time. He was grateful that his perfect memory hadn't been damaged the same way his magic had been by the war.

The clerks dealt with most of the people making records requests then Draco would find the pertinent files for the person doing the research and they would review them in one of the file rooms. Afterwards Draco would tidy them up and put them away. It was the simple rhythm of his work day.

Sometimes though, his peace was spoiled by one of the handful of people allowed to look through the Archives themselves.

Draco smelled the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle and knew who was in the stacks even before he turned the corner. Everyone else he worked with was over sixty and smelled of mouldering roses and tea.

"Good morning, Granger," Draco said, his palms starting to sweat as they always did around her.

She looked up from the file she had propped on her lap and smiled brightly, "Good morning, Malfoy." She pushed her chocolate curls back from her face and Draco tried to occlude his reaction to her. Her burnished olive skin and laughing amber eyes were all he could see for a moment. She was sitting on one of his rolling ladders, her foot tapping as she read.

Sweet Circe, she had turned into a beauty. Maybe she had always been one and he had been such a fool at Hogwarts because he'd never noticed.

She was always impeccably polite to him. He'd apologised to her by letter after his months in Azkaban. She'd written back a letter telling him that she did not hold him responsible for any of his actions during the war. He would never forget her closing: Malfoy, we were all only children. We should have been playing games, instead we were pawns in a deadly game between "great men." Neither you nor I are to blame. Please forgive yourself.

He hadn't forgiven himself. His wife hadn't forgiven him. How could Hermione Granger? Why would she? But she had. Draco could see it in every open smile and kind look she gave him. It was so strange. The person who should have hated him the most, was one of the only people he interacted with who did not make him feel less than.

"Are you on the hunt for something particular today?" Draco asked, the silence on his end had gone on far too long. "Can I find anything for you?" He knew that Granger didn't need any help in the Archives. She'd learned every filing and summoning charm her first week working for the Ministry, but it was something to say to her, much better than what he was thinking. How are you so kind? How could you ever forgive a monster like me?

"I don't think so, Malfoy. I'm researching a target for a case for Harry and Ron," she rubbed at her wrist and pulled her sleeve down, nervously. Her smile faltered.

Was that a bruise? Draco's brow drew down in concern. Was she hurt? But how could he invade her privacy by asking if she was alright. She didn't owe him anything.

"Well," Draco said, "If you are sure. If you change your mind send a patronus or just call my name. It's quiet as a crypt down here usually."

Granger nodded absentmindedly, returning to reading her file. Something was wrong, Draco knew it. He'd never seen her shut down like that when they were talking before.

However, Stori was always telling him how stupid he was and how he didn't know anything about women. He had probably offended Granger. He should leave her alone. She didn't need his help. She never had.

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At dinner later that night, Draco and Astoria ate in silence for a while, each of them on opposite sides of their long dining room table. The house elves served the food and then disappeared as Astoria had ordered them to do. Control over the elves had been her request for a wedding gift from him and he'd given it willingly (he'd still had hope then), never imagining that she'd use it maintain control over every tiny piece of his life at home and forbid the elves that he'd known all his life from answering his summons or speaking to him.

"And how was your day at your little pathetic job at the Ministry?" Astoria asked, taking a deep drink of her wine. She smiled but it was all venom and no sweetness.

"Fine. I pulled records. I put away records. The same as always," Draco murmured, and tried to steel himself for the insults that he knew would come next.

"It's amazing that they let you work there. Considering how little magical power you have. You'd think you'd need to be able to cast at least an Accio to work there."

I can do magic! Draco wanted to scream. I am a wizard. But she was right. She'd forced him to try to Accio something last week and he couldn't even do it anymore. She was right, he was a pathetic excuse for a wizard. His power was simply so weak.

Draco hung his head, the shame eating at him.

"I do like that you are wearing those new cufflinks that I picked up for you," Astoria said, as happily as Draco had ever heard her. "I want you to wear them every day."

"Of course, Stori," Draco replied. His appetite was gone, but he was trapped at the table until she excused herself. He didn't want to give her an excuse to get angry with him. Last time he had gotten up to leave when she was being cruel to him, she had smashed one of his mother's heirloom vases.

His mother hadn't lasted long once Lucius was sentenced to Azkaban. He kept wishing her ghost would appear and haunt him. Then he wouldn't be so alone.

When Astoria finally finished her wine, told him that looking at him disgusted her and headed to her bedroom, Draco couldn't be anything but grateful.

The halls of Malfoy Manor were glaringly bare. Astoria had taken all the Malfoy family portraits down and put them into storage. Draco missed some of them. His grandfather Abraxas' portrait had always been a particularly welcome presence in his life, having died of Dragon Pox when Draco was a toddler. The halls were eerily silent now. No ancestors greeted him as he walked, there was no gossip between great aunts from a hundred years ago.

Once in his own room, the same one he'd slept in since he was a boy, he curled up in a ball on the bed and wept.

He missed his mother so much. If only she was still here. He thought about joining her, but didn't know how to do it without magic. He fell asleep while wondering how muggles kill themselves.

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He almost asked Granger how muggles kill themselves when he saw her the next day, but she shocked him by asking for help with her research. She was looking for cases that were related to a specific pureblood family and when she had done the summoning charm too many scrolls and files had come flying at her and she needed assistance weeding through them.

The next six weeks were some of the best of Draco's life. Granger came everyday to the Archives and Draco sat with her quietly while they read through the records. Draco discovered that the family in question was involved in the dark arts and the trafficking of muggle girls. Draco found several records connecting them with other families that could potentially be helping them. She'd even made jokes that had him smirking and joking back with her. He hadn't felt this happy in years. And sometimes her eyes would trace the scars that ran over his cheek and she looked like she wanted to say something, but she never did. For that Draco was grateful. He knew that he wasn't handsome any longer, but he hated apologies and pity. The past could not be changed.

Draco just tried to enjoy the present that he had with Granger. The easy intellectual camaraderie of two researchers was a welcome respite to the misery of his everyday life.

On the last day that Draco would see Hermione Granger for a long time, she arrived with tear marks on her face and this time he couldn't stop himself from asking her what was wrong.

"Granger, what's happened?"

"Ron. Ron's what happened." She shook her head and wiped at her face. "He found out I've been down here with you while I did my research and he accused me of cheating."

Draco imagined the look of shock on his face was probably comical to someone else. "Granger, I would never dare to touch you in any way, how could he possibly think such a thing? Besides that I'm married."

"That's what I told him! That you were happily married!" Granger continued her rant, but the word seemed to have a life of its own.

Happily.

Being happily married is not what Draco had gotten from the gobstone game of life. He was sure that it showed on his face at that moment, but luckily she wasn't looking at him, she was gesturing wildly, staring upwards towards the source of her anger.

"He just doesn't trust me. As if he wasn't the one who cheated last year with Padma bloody Patel!" She was rubbing her wrist again. This time he could see it. There were finger marks on her arm.

"Granger, is he hurting you?" Draco pointed to her wrist. "No one should do that to someone that they are supposed to love."

She looked into his eyes and burst into tears.

Draco didn't dare touch her, but when she sat on the floor in the Archives and put her head on her knees and continued to cry, Draco sat next to her and tried to offer her what comfort he could with his presence.

They sat like that, not speaking, for a very long time.

After this day, Draco would not see Hermione Granger for six months.

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Draco learned from Henrietta, the Archives' Chief clerk, that Granger had taken a leave of absence from the DMLE. Potter came down and collected her research from the Archives. He'd gotten special permission to work on it upstairs. Of course he had, the rules had never applied to Saint Potter.

Draco saw her on the cover of the Daily Prophet. She was screaming in Weasley's face as he grabbed her wrist. That same place that had the marks. Draco had known it. Weaselbee was hurting Granger.

Astoria was cruel and heartless, but she never hit him. Even if Draco deserved to be struck. He deserved every insult and hurtful comment, he wasn't a good person.

Granger was the Golden Girl, the brightest witch of her age. She deserved to be worshipped. And if she wasn't treated well and listened to Draco's advice that could spare her having to keep going through the torment that Draco lived with day in and day out, then he had finally done something right with his misspent life. Draco wiped the tears away from his face. Why was he crying?

The headline read War Heroes' Public Break-up: Inside the Sordid End!

Draco didn't want to read the article, he doubted that even a tenth of it would be true. He tossed it in the bin.

He took in a deep breath and returned to putting away the pieces of Granger's research that Potter hadn't thought were important.

He already missed the smell of jasmine and honeysuckle, the sound of her voice and her company.

The Archives swallowed up his feelings just like his marriage had. He returned to being alone.

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In her new Diagon Alley flat, Hermione Granger considered writing Draco Malfoy a note thanking him for helping her to realise that her relationship with Ron had gone totally off the rails. How had she allowed it to get so bad? She had truly let the weight of Harry and everyone else's expectations that she and Ron would live happily ever after to chain her to a man with no respect for her, only a desire to control and confine her.

Malfoy's soft expression as he told her that no one should be putting their hands on her and marking her body without her consent haunted her. He hadn't even touched her hands, even though she could see his hand opening and closing as though he wanted to, when she sat next to him crying for four bleeding hours the last day that they had worked together.

Hermione thought she should write a letter to him and even started one six times, but everything she tried to write seemed wrong somehow. She'd find a way to thank him some day. She would. But she didn't want his wife to get the wrong idea. She knew Ron had told at least his parents and Harry that she had been cheating with Malfoy. She didn't want to add any fuel to the rumour. Thank Godric it hadn't been included in Rita Skeeter's article. It had been bad enough that Ron grabbing her, in Diagon Alley of all places, had made it in.

She put her face in her hands and wished more than anything that she knew what to do about Draco Malfoy. She had thought they were friends after working together so closely. Malfoy had been so supportive in the Archives, more than anyone else in her life.

But he looked so sad all the time now. The confident Slytherin Prince of her childhood had been buried along with his mother. He was like a shadow of the man that he used to be. She didn't need to add to his difficulties is what she told herself as she put the stationery away.

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Draco's life sank back into the emptiness that had been his daily existence for years. Pulling things out and putting things away. He went through the motions each day. And he dreaded going home each night to his wife who despised him almost as much as Draco despised himself.