The little owl that Pansy had offered him was called Wynn. This name came from a rune that Draco recognized immediately. It made him smile. Pansy had a sense of humour that he would describe as... special.
"Promise of happiness, pleasure, hope and fulfilment. Factor of harmonious social and family life."
He had studied runes at Hogwarts and remembered this one perfectly. A nice touch from Pansy.
Wynn was a barn owl with ashen orange plumage and amber eyes, a rare thing for this breed. No doubt she had magical properties, Draco could feel it.
She seemed rather shy and fearful, which made him smile. She was like him in that respect.
He closed the letter that Pansy had sent him and opened the small package that Wynn had brought to feed her. He approached her gently, silently, his palm filled with a mixture of bird seed.
She looked at him curiously, but did not lean towards him, as if she was analyzing the situation before giving in. So he remained motionless, waiting for her to make a move.
Draco liked animals, he had always had a good affinity with them, except of course for the Hippogriff that had savagely attacked him in third year. Otherwise, he got on quite well with them and found a certain peace in their company.
He had had his own owl during his years at Hogwarts, a particularly large one that he had proudly displayed at breakfasts in the castle. As he thought about it, he realised he had no idea what had happened to it. Just thinking about it made him think of his mother and his heart sank.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to give himself courage. This was not the time to think about it. He had to tame his new owl. After all, she was going to be his new roommate and he intended to befriend her.
He thought she was beautiful. Her beauty was special and her plumage seemed to be made of fire. He wondered where Pansy had bought her. He had never seen such a beautiful specimen in Diagon Alley, she must have found Wynn somewhere else. He would have to ask her in a letter.
This gave him the first incentive to send mail to his friend, which was already a big step forward.
When he opened his eyes again, his mother had been relegated to the back of his mind and he could concentrate on Wynn again. She had stepped onto the windowsill and her beak was inches from Draco's palm.
He remained silent and waited. He'd discovered an extraordinary amount of patience during his time in Azkaban. Waiting, counting, thinking. It was simple.
Wynn leaned his beak towards him and began to peck at the seeds he held out to her. Draco allowed himself a smile and raised his hand to her small feathery head to stroke it with his fingertip.
Her head was the size of his hand, which, if he was honest, was rather large. By his estimation, she was probably around forty centimetres tall, which was enough to carry small parcels such as Pansy's pack.
In any case, Draco wasn't planning to send anything to his friends. Besides, if Pansy wanted to give him something, she could do so in person, despite the fact that her visits would be less frequent.
He hadn't really known how to react to this news.
Part of him was panicking at the thought of being alone with no one to help him in an emergency. He imagined all sorts of scenarios in which he could die, get hurt or be tortured without anyone being able to do anything about it. For although he had previously had no way of contacting Blaise or Pansy quickly, he had found some security in knowing that they could reach him at any time.
Now... the only person who knew of his presence in the house and would be close enough to help him was Granger.
And even though, from Pansy's words, Granger seemed inclined to help him in some way, he didn't really trust her. After all, the last memory he had of her was her attempted assassination. At least, that was what he had imagined. He had found her above him and had convinced himself that she meant him harm.
Now he realised that his mind had probably been playing tricks on him. But that did not make him trust her. He didn't know her, and the only observations he had made of her had been when she was on her way to work or watching him from the garden. And although her gaze towards him had never been hateful, it guaranteed him nothing.
He had no way of knowing what her motives were for suddenly wanting to help him. Perhaps she was simply waiting to get Blaise and Pansy out of the way before coming after him?
He took his head in his hands. His mind was still spinning in a fatalistic way. He grunted and refocused on Pansy's letter.
The positive side to reducing the frequency of their visits was that he would be calmer and able to concentrate on himself.
He loved his friends, there was no doubt about that. They had been a great support in the weeks following his release. However, Draco couldn't help but think that a little peace and quiet wouldn't hurt. Even though they only came three or four times a week, the thought of them visiting always put him in a state of considerable anxiety. He had to prepare himself mentally to receive them, to have to listen to them, to pay attention to them and sometimes even to talk to them.
And it had always been tiring, to say the least. The worst had been the period following the announcement of his mother's death. That memory alone gave him shivers.
Blaise and Pansy had arranged to come every day, or at least every other day. They went out of their way to make conversation with him on each visit. They would tell him about their days, about Pansy's foundation or Blaise's court battle. Sometimes Pansy tried to get him to talk about his feelings. From what she had told him, she had read some psychology books.
He had almost laughed at her that day. How were those damn books going to cure him of his grief?
Their visits had exhausted him so much that he had once again not wanted to open the door to his room. The last time he'd been out was when he'd found Granger's potions, a month after his mother's death was announced. And that particularly annoyed Draco.
He felt like he had taken two steps backwards, after it had taken him weeks to take one step forward. He hated it. He wanted to move forward. He wanted to get better. He was tired of being unable to do anything. Two months had been enough for him.
However, the repeated visits from his friends had prevented him from doing so. They monopolised his mind and energy. There was no room left for his discovery of the house, or even his room.
He was just... tired.
He looked up at the bedroom door, not stopping his upper lip stroking.
The absence of his friends for the next few weeks would be good for him, he promised himself. He would open that door again and go out.
He liked to think he was doing it for his mother. To make her proud. To accomplish what she had not been able to do: find peace.
When he turned his eyes to Wynn, he saw movement in the background. Hermione Granger had just left her house. He frowned.
When had she come home? Wasn't it early for the end of the day?
His heartbeat quickened. Were her working hours different? That would change everything. He wouldn't be able to get out as much!
She looked up at him and he did his best to look natural. If he showed his fear, she was going to hurt him. That was what his brain kept telling him. That was what he had learned. It could not be otherwise.
He was going to have to be much more vigilant. If she came home early, he would have to study her new schedule, while trying to get out of his room. He couldn't afford to spend his energy standing at the window all day, noting when she left and when she returned. He would waste too much time.
He would have to be methodical. If he started on the first floor of the house, keeping an eye out for doorbells or barking noises, he could get back to his room in time and without being seen.
Granger's gaze burned into his skin and he finally backed away from the window, unable to bear it.
He sat on the edge of his bed and clutched his face in his hands. He had to find a solution. And quickly.
Time passed without him noticing. So much so that when a few knocks came on his door, he was startled and his heart almost missed a beat.
He couldn't believe that it was already dinner time. For that was all it could be, wasn't it? Granger couldn't have come for anything else, could he? She wasn't going to try to kill him with her horrible, dangerous dog, was she? Was she?
He had to take a long breath to stop himself from hyperventilating. What if that was exactly why she had come?
He preferred not to think about that. He didn't want to think about it. He couldn't think about that. Not now.
Wynn hooted, breaking him out of his ruminations. He looked up and realised she was tapping on the glass with her beak. He had been so deep in thought that he hadn't heard her do it. He hurried to her and opened the window to let her out.
He was angry with himself. If it was indeed dinner time, she must have been very bored in the little room. How had he not heard her?
As he watched her escape, he was jealous that he couldn't do the same. He would have loved to be able to fly away and not have to face Granger, who had just knocked on his door a second time.
"Malfoy?" she said uncertainly.
He gasped again and took a long breath to give himself courage. He could do it. He just had to open the door, get his food, thank her and...
It was impossible. He couldn't do that. He couldn't do that. How was he supposed to speak to anyone other than his friends without fear of being beaten for that very reason?
Because that was what was going to happen, wasn't it? She was going to realise that she'd been harbouring a Death Eater for months, and then want to make him pay for it, wasn't she?
He closed his eyes, clenched his fists and bit down on himself. He shouldn't think like that. He should just act–without thinking. Who would have thought that acting like a Gryffindor would ever benefit him?
He held back a smile.
He could do it.
He opened his eyes again and knew, without needing to see himself in a mirror, that his gaze was determined. He turned towards the door and started walking. The way to the door seemed to take him forever. He couldn't see the end of it. When did the room become so big?
It was as if every second had turned into an hour. Time passed in slow motion. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears, like a pulse he had to keep up with to get to the door. It was as if every time he failed to keep up with the rhythm, he was in danger of falling.
He raised his hand to the handle, closed his eyes, took a deep breath and opened it.
The instant he met Granger's gaze, a memory flashed through his mind.
He could barely stand, supported by Blaise and Pansy. A man in his fifties stood to his right, reciting words he could barely understand. The only thing he could see was an amber colour, a sparkle, a whisky base, a caramel.
Granger's eyes were that colour. He was discovering it for the first time.
oOo
Seeing him so close again was disturbing. So disturbing that Hermione wondered how her body could still support her. Her heart was pounding and her hands were shaking around the wooden tray that held the dinner she was bringing.
Malfoy was much taller than her. At least a head taller than her. She knew she was rather short, but had never noticed he was so tall. The top of her head came to the middle of his neck. It was unsettling.
She remembered very well that Ron was also quite tall, but not as tall as this.
Unlike the last time she had stood in front of him like this, Hermione took the time to detail him carefully. In any case, she wasn't about to interrupt the silence that floated between them.
His grey eyes were much more alive than at the wedding. He didn't look so much like an Inferius anymore and his pupils were a little dilated.
She still remembered vividly the empty, dying look he had had that day. She had felt as if his soul had left his body, that his memories, his life and his past had never existed. He had not been alive that day. Just an empty shell.
This time, however, his irises held a spark she hadn't seen in anyone for a long time. Determination. Curiosity. Hope.
His face was less sunken than the last time. He had recovered since she had seen him lying on his bed, like a corpse that would be visited to say his last rites.
He seemed to have eaten his fill, healed from his physical wounds and slept more or less properly. She suspected that this was recent. If he had only recently been given access to sleeping potions, he must have waited a while before sleeping properly. She couldn't imagine a prisoner of Azkaban–especially one as badly treated as he had been–getting out of prison without the experience affecting his sleep.
She thought to herself that the Zabinis must have placed isolation spells on the room so that she wouldn't hear him screaming every night. She didn't want to imagine how horrible it would have been. She could already hear the screams of the Death Eaters' victims in her dreams, she didn't need more.
Malfoy was wearing rather basic clothes, which she imagined belonged to Blaise, based on their style. She didn't know the blonde's, but doubted the Zabinis had taken the time to go shopping for him. Even if it was Pansy's old job.
He was wearing a light shirt, which he had zipped up to the top, and midnight blue trousers. He was in socks, which she understood given the summer heat.
What she hadn't expected, however, was the smell of her housemate. Indeed, after a few seconds–which seemed to last an eternity–she sensed and understood that despite his discovery of the bathroom, he had not used it.
This made her swallow. She realised that perhaps he was not as comfortable in the house as she had imagined. She almost felt bad for thinking that he was already there.
She bit her lip and looked down. This made her feel more uncomfortable than she already was. She felt out of place. She felt like she was invading his personal space, even though she was at home.
She didn't know what to do. Should she hand him the tray and leave? Should she explain to him how the next meals would work? She was at a loss.
To her surprise, he was the first to speak. For the first time since the war, she heard him speak.
"Thank you," he said despite his hoarseness.
Her eyes widened. She had expected anything but this. As she looked up at him, she realised that he was not just thanking her for her meal.
She froze, not knowing what to say. Had he really just thanked her? She could hardly believe it.
She had not imagined much about him. If she was being honest, she had preferred not to think about him at all, but she had not imagined that he could act like that. In her memories, he was still the same pretentious idiot from Hogwarts, but she soon realised that this way of looking at things was purely immature and senseless.
She was nothing like the Hermione Granger of Hogwarts, there was no reason why he should have remained the same as when they were at school.
A minute passed in complete silence. It was heavy, almost awkward. They didn't take their eyes off each other, while she tried to think of something to say to him.
Eventually, she cleared her throat, cheeks flushed, and lowered her head to the tray she had brought him.
"I've made you a hot meal, but I'll make some cold dishes for lunch that I'll bring to you along with breakfast." She spoke in a rush. "I don't know what time you wake up, so I'll knock on the door and drop everything off here. I leave pretty early in the morning so–"
"I know," he interrupted her.
She looked up sharply and widened her eyes a second time. She saw him blush slightly and was about to ask him about what he had just implied, but stopped herself. She didn't want to make this conversation any more awkward than it already was. All she wanted to do now was give him the damn tray and run out of the hallway to join Albert.
"I'll keep making hot dishes in the evening," she said with her head down. "I don't cook very well, but I suppose it will be enough."
She saw him nod from the corner of her eye.
Then she hurriedly handed him the tray, which he grabbed with hands as shaky as her own, and without another word, fled towards the stairs.
She had succeeded. She could hardly believe it.
And that's it! See you next year, on Thursday 01/05/2023, for the next chapter!
Thanks to Acciobraincells and DontStopHerNow for their support.
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