Chapter Forty-Three

"Stay here," Severus told her as he walked into the hall.

Turning in her seat, Hermione tracked his movements until he rounded the corner. Biting her lip in uncertainty, she stood slowly from her seat and drew her wand. She heard the door open, but missed the initial exchanged words as a gust of wind muffled their voices. The door shut with a snap, and- hearing friendly words being shared- she approached the hallway stiffly.

"Severus, who-"

Halting abruptly, Hermione took in the scene before her in shock. Severus, eyes wide in disbelief, was hanging up the newcomer's coat; and as the newcomer himself turned towards the intrusion, a familiar pair of cool grey eyes met her own in surprise. Her mouth fell open. "Malfoy."

Draco Malfoy blinked at her, as if trying to remember where he'd seen her before. "Granger?" He asked uncertainly, turning to Severus for confirmation.

"What are you doing here?" She asked sharply, ignoring Severus' raised eyebrows at her tone.

"What are you doing here?" He retorted, looking once more at Severus, who exhaled uneasily and looked warily her way. "Why is she here?"

Severus addressed her, his voice thin. "Hermione, could you give us a few minutes?"

"I can wait upstairs," she answered, backing up further down the hall.

Draco looked between the two of them in confusion. "What's going on?"

"We were having dinner," Severus was explaining behind her as she turned and grabbed the banister. "Hermione and I-"

Draco inhaled sharply. "You can't be serious. Her?"

Her face warming, Hermione paused on the bottom step.

"Draco-"

The sound of laughter filled the cottage, unhinged convulsions that crawled up Hermione's spine and set every hair at the nape of her neck on end. Turning sharply, she watched as Draco looked first towards her, then towards Severus, then back her way again. His hysterics redoubled, until Hermione crossed her arms tightly across her chest and- face burning with anger and embarrassment- she snapped, "What's so bloody funny?"

Draco's laughter cut off sharply, and his once cutting stare looked cracked and unbalanced. Wiping at his eye, he snickered, "Damn, Granger, I knew you'd do anything for a grade, but he isn't even your professor anymore!"

In a flash, Severus had grabbed a still-chuckling Draco by the neck and shoved him into the living room. "Wait for me in there!" he snarled before hurrying over to Hermione, who was still standing on the steps in complete and utter shock. In hushed tones, he said, "Remember, he's been in Azkaban since June. Even without the Dementors his sanity is most likely frayed. Pay him no mind and let me talk to him- alone." Briefly touching her cheek, he added, "You should return to the castle tonight."

"No!" Shaking her head, she fought to see through the fog of indignation that Malfoy's words had buried her under. "No, I don't want to leave. Especially if he's as unsettled as he seems. Do you think he has his wand?"

"I'm certain he does," he replied, looking troubled. But he met her eyes and sighed at the determination in her face. "Go to my bedroom, then. And stay there until I join you."

Nodding, she stepped down from the stairs and hurried into Severus' room, the door clicking softly behind her. The muted voices cut off in an instant, and she recognized the feel of a silencing charm. Frowning at the thought of being completely cut off from the situation, she let out a breath and stepped further into the room.

Her face was still burning as she sat on his bed, realizing with frustration that her belongings were shrunk in her coat pocket in the hallway. Looking around absently for something to do, she discovered a book on medicinal potions on the nightstand. Thinking that would have to do, she reclined on Severus' pillows and pulled the book onto her lap. Not that she expected to have much luck reading any of it, what with her thoughts racing a mile a minute.

What the hell was Malfoy doing here at this time of night?

"Draco, why are you here?"

The question came out sharper than he had intended, but Severus was irate at his godson's earlier gall. He had stormed into the living room, glaring at Draco as the younger man browsed his bookshelves. Getting snapped at didn't seem to faze him, as he didn't so much as glance up as he asked, "Am I not welcome, Uncle?"

Frowning at the familiar address, Severus answered, "Of course you're welcome. You'd be more welcome tomorrow morning, as you well know, so I'm assuming there's a reason for this late visit. I'll ask again- why are you here?"

Draco slowly turned away from the shelves and faced his godfather, giving him full view of his disheveled appearance once more- greasy, outgrown hair falling around gaunt, stubbled cheeks; pristine clothes that hung loosely over a much thinner frame; cracked and dirt crusted nails on bony fingers. He was dirty and malnourished, in need of a shower and a hearty meal or two. But Malfoy Manor wasn't condemned- he should have been able to return there at his release.

Why then was Draco Malfoy, fresh from Azkaban, standing in his living room?

"Do you know how hard it was to find you?" Draco asked, avoiding his question once more. "I finally asked at the apothecary in Hogsmeade, who would only give me the street you lived on. I had to narrow it down by the front lawns."

"Congratulations; you've found me. Now why were you looking for me?"

"Of course, I show up and you're with her of all people-"

"DRACO!" Severus snapped, slamming his palm on the bookshelf. "Stop changing the subject and answer my question!"

To his credit, Draco took a step back. "I need a place to stay."

"You have a home. You have a whole damn mansion."

Draco shook his head. "I can't stay there. Not after everything-" He swallowed, looking away for a moment. When he continued, his voice was unsteady. "You weren't around much that last year. You don't know what it was like... what sort of awful things happened there..." He gestured towards the hallway suddenly, adding, "She knows, she could tell you-"

"I know what happened to her," Severus interrupted quietly.

Giving him an oddly calculating look, Draco shook his head. "I tried... I tried to go home. I couldn't walk past the gate. I had a house elf bring me a change of clothes and I left. But then I remembered, I have nowhere to go." Tapping his finger agitatedly on the nearest shelf, he shrugged jerkily. "I have no friends, and my family is imprisoned. No one will hire me, I refuse to beg my way back into Hogwarts, and I can't even leave the Isles without alerting the authorities. You're the only person I can think of that might tolerate being in the same room as me."

That was the most coherent thing Draco had said since he had arrived, but it was quickly ruined when he started to laugh again. "Of course, I get here, and she's here, and I have to assume that if she's here then I won't be welcome here after all. So, Uncle, do you have any idea where I should go from here? Maybe Hogwarts has a place for me after all. Did Filch survive the war? Could always take his job."

He began to mutter to himself, presumably deep in thought, but Severus didn't bother trying to hear what he was saying. What he had told Hermione in the hallway was proving to be true- the edges of his godson's sanity had started to crack. Not much, but it was there all the same. "Draco, come sit," he sighed, distracting the younger man from his thoughts and gesturing to the couch. Walking over to the drinks cart in the corner, he glanced over what he had to offer and settled on a ginger tonic. "Drink this," he ordered as he sat with his own tonic in hand, "and try to relax. Hermione's presence here does not mean you're automatically unwelcome. Granted, her feelings on the matter do need to be considered, but this is still my house, and ultimately my decision."

"How did that happen?" Draco asked, gesturing sharply to the hall. "Granger?! We hated her!"

"I didn't hate her," he argued. At Draco's unbelieving stare he sighed and clarified, "She was the most obnoxious student that I've ever had by far, but I didn't hate her."

"You didn't like her much, either," Draco mumbled into his cup.

"Yes, well... that being said, if you want to stay, you'll need to change your attitude towards her also. She means a great deal to me, and if it's between the two of you, I won't hesitate to send you back to your mansion."

"Don't worry, Uncle," Draco sneered, "I've become quite skilled at sucking up to people I don't like."

With that reminder, a lull in conversation passed. Draco sat hunched over, staring into his drink with a frown as Severus considered his last words. He knew Draco had fallen out of love with the pureblood ideals as soon as he saw the bloodshed and debauchery that went with them. He had personally watched it happen- had seen how reluctant he had been to take the mark, knowing the weight that brand would carry. If Severus could have stopped it from happening, he would have.

But it happened, and there was no changing that. The damage had been done, as was evidenced by this shell of a man sat before him- not so unlike himself following the first war. Perhaps that was why his heart ached to see the boy like this.

Draco was mumbling to himself again. A habit picked up in Azkaban, most likely. Severus finished off his drink and sat forward. "Draco?"

The blond jerked, looking up. Severus saw in his eyes the exact moment his mind registered where he was. "Where is your head right now?" he asked.

Draco closed his eyes. "Anywhere but there. I just-" Rubbing a hand down his face, he swallowed. "I developed a game of sorts. A coping mechanism. I'd think of one place I'd rather be than where I was. I'd start breaking that place down into pieces, as small as I can go." His eyes closed as he explained, his expression softening. "A beach in France, for example. How would the sand feel on my skin? Am I wet or dry? Are there waves, and if so how do they look? What can I hear, what can I smell? Am I alone? Am I-" His words cut off abruptly. Glancing to the side, he shrugged. "I went many places in my head just to escape reality. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to live in it now."

"It isn't easy." Leaning back once more, Severus explained, "I spent time in Azkaban after the first war. I wasn't in for nearly as long, but I was surrounded by dementors day in and day out. I had just lost the- who I thought was the love of my life, by a means no different than if I had done it myself. Even free, I had nothing I wanted to live for. I, like you, was alone.

"But I did have something to drive me forward," he added, looking his godson in the eye. "It's your turn to find that, Draco. Once you do, the rest has a habit of falling away."

He let his words sink in for a moment before continuing, "For the immediate future, you are welcome to the rooms upstairs. There's a bed and a shower, two things you desperately need. We will discuss more in the morning, but for now, wash up and rest."

When Severus finally entered his bedroom, Hermione had nearly fallen asleep. Her head jerked up as the door opened, and she jumped as the book she had been attempting to read fell onto the floor with a loud thump. Severus raised a brow in her direction. "I don't throw your books around," he commented before moving to the wardrobe.

She ignored him, picking up the book and setting it on the nightstand. "Where's Malfoy?"

"Showering, I expect." Unbuttoning his shirt, he added, "I sent him upstairs. We can all talk in the morning."

"You gave him my room?" Hermione asked indignantly, and his mouth twitched.

"Would you rather I give him mine?" slipping his shirt from his shoulders, he said, "I had assumed you would be sleeping in here anyway, though if you would rather sleep alone, I can retire in the living room for the night."

"Don't be ridiculous," she mumbled, shifting off the bed. "My things are in the hall; I'll be right back. I'll be using your bathroom, since you gave mine away."

The door clicked behind her, and she looked towards the steps warily. She could hear the water running upstairs, so she felt confident that she could grab her things, wash up, and return to bed without seeing Malfoy. Still, knowing he was up there was rather unsettling.

When she re-entered Severus' room, clad in her nightgown and hair braided for sleep, he was already under the covers. He scooted over and pulled the blanket back, and she curled in next to him. His arm immediately circled her, pulling her up against his bare chest, the heat from his skin warming her. His voice rumbled against her back as he spoke. "That nightgown drove me absolutely insane while you were living here." His hand trailed down her side to her thigh, teasing the hem of the offending fabric. "Do you remember the day after we worked on blurring your memories?" She nodded, recalling the overwhelming joy she felt at having had a full night's rest after so long. His fingers slid higher up her thigh, pushing the fabric with them. "Do you remember what you did when you woke up?"

"I came downstairs to thank you."

"You practically assaulted me," he corrected, and she looked over her shoulder to see him smiling. "You lunged at me, hugged me, and kissed my cheek."

Settling back down onto the pillow, Hermione grinned at the memory. "I did do that, didn't I?"

"You were wearing this-" Severus tugged the nightgown gently- "when you did so. You rendered me completely frozen, standing alone in my kitchen with what I imagine was a very amusing look on my face."

"I was a bit shocked by my daring, too, I must admit." She remembered rushing out of the kitchen before he could register how red she had become. "I was just so happy, I couldn't help it."

His lips pressed against her shoulder briefly. "I almost didn't let you go."

An excitement grew in her, constricting her chest and warming her cheeks. "What would you have done?"

Reality crashed over both of them when they heard a door close upstairs, followed by soft footsteps. Reluctantly, Hermione rolled over to face Severus. I guess now isn't the right time for romance. "How is he?"

With a great sigh, Severus collapsed on his back and rubbed his eyes. "He's... unsettled. Azkaban did a number on him."

That had been obvious from the short interaction she had shared with him. "And why did he come here, of all places?"

He glanced over at her, and something in his expression seemed... pitying. "He had nowhere else to go."

"What do you mean?" Pushing up on her elbow, she asked, "Can't he go back home?"

He shook his head. "Not in his current mental state, no. He tried, apparently. It was too difficult."

She could read between the lines; that place must have more demons for him than it did for her. "And this was truly the only place he could go?"

"Well, it was the only place he felt comfortable going, anyway. He does have a surviving aunt, but as those family ties were broken before he was born, he only knows her by name- and barely that."

Hermione didn't register who he was talking about at first, but then- "You mean Tonk's mum? Andromeda?"

"Yes. I've no doubt she would help him, especially after losing her daughter."

"Has he even considered it?"

Shaking his head, he said, "I have no idea." After a pause, he continued, "He has no friends or family that he knows; evidently I'm the only person he trusts to help him."

"You will, won't you?"

He glanced over at her quickly. "I hadn't agreed to anything yet, beyond a night's stay."

"But if you're the only person he can count on- why are you looking at me like that?"

Severus had quirked his lips, his expression soft and somewhat humorous. It felt horribly out of place for the conversation they were having. He rolled over, mimicking her propped up pose. "Just admiring how quickly you've gone into 'save the people' mode."

Not sure whether to feel proud or indignant, she retorted, "I think it's a completely justified reaction!"

"I don't mean to offend you, Hermione. It's one of your better traits." He reached out a hand and stroked her arm. "I can let him stay here, if you're amenable to the idea. You'd have to forfeit your rooms, though," he added with a smirk.

"Mmm, I quite like yours, actually," she responded, looking around. "It could use a bit of color, though. Have you considered crimson?"

"Nasty witch," he grumbled as he pulled her tightly into his chest. A startled cry escaped her, but he ignored it, saying, "I'll make the offer in the morning, then."

Her voice was muffled when she replied, "I'm glad to hear it." The rumble of his chuckle vibrated against her cheek, and when he loosened his grasp, she only shifted closer. "I think it'll be good for you," she said. "He was always such a show-off in Potions. Maybe he can help you like I was."

"Hm. We'll see," he said simply. "For now, let's sleep. I've a feeling tomorrow will be quite tiring."

The cold seeped through to his bones, but he had long since stopped shivering, as if his body had accepted it would never experience warmth again. The stench of damp, dirt and decay mixed with the saltiness of the air and left a foul taste in his mouth. Remnants of the last meal he had consumed- a stiff chunk of unidentifiable meat with two dry bread rolls- had done little to satisfy him, and the half cup of water had done even less to quench his thirst. But he was always hungry now, always thirsty. Those sensations had become little more than a thought in the back of his head.

He was sitting on the ground in the corner of his cell, staring into the darkness that surrounded him. His hand idly traced shapes in the moisture-laden dirt that had somehow found its way in, while his mind wandered across an Danish countryside far, far away. He was so lost in his thoughts that the sound of footsteps didn't register with him until the screaming started.

"NO! Let go, let go, NONONONONO PLEASE-"

His breaths grew sharp, the icy air stinging his throat as his heart began to race. Pushing a hand to his tightening chest, he fought the primal desire to flee and closed his eyes tightly, even though he was already in darkness so thick he couldn't see his own hand. It wasn't the first time he had heard such cries- the past year and a half had been full of them- but no matter how often he heard them, he couldn't prevent the images now forming in the void behind his eyelids.

He tried to push back the flashes of memories as the screaming continued, growing blessedly distant as the prisoner was dragged down the hall. Classmates violently punished in class, prisoners tortured in his home. In his stomach, a heavy weight grew. He gripped his hair, grease coating his fingers as he tugged the strands tightly and whimpered softly. No matter what he did, he couldn't forget them. He couldn't forget all the faces of those writhing in agony, all the lives he had seen come to an end before him. And he had nothing to do here except remember them.

More footsteps, more screams; he was on his knees, leant forward, hands still in his hair, tears dripping down his cheeks-

With a start, Draco jerked out of sleep.

In the half second that followed, he came back to the present. He wasn't in a cell- he was in a thin, warm bed in an attic bedroom in Hogsmeade. He could see the room around him; he could hear the soft chirping of an early morning bird outside the window. He could smell the soap Severus had loaned him on his skin.

He was out.

In the next second, he threw the covers back and made to stand, only making it as far as touching his feet to the ground before the panic took over and his stomach threatened to empty. Leaning forward, he gripped the back of his neck, his hair- hair that was soft and clean for the first time in months- tickling his fingers as it fell forward. "You're out," he chanted to himself. "You're out. You aren't going back."

Unless you've imagined all this.

Jolting upright, Draco shook his head roughly. "No. No, this is real. This has to be real."

His wand rested on the nightstand; he quickly grabbed it, clutching it in his fist. He hadn't used it yet- aside from apparition, he hadn't used any magic, was afraid of how it would make him feel. But he was never more than an arm's reach away from it. Feeling the smooth wood in his tight grip centered him, and he stared down at it while he fought to regulate his breathing.

"I wouldn't have this," he whispered breathlessly, "if I were still in there. I wouldn't... I'm not..."

The small attic room was larger and more open than his cell had been, and yet he still felt trapped. He rose quickly and threw a window open, leaning out and breathing in the crisp dawn air. A cold wind nipped at his cheeks, but he paid it no mind. Twisting, he grabbed the edge of the window frame and pulled his top half out of it. His legs soon followed, and he scrambled for purchase before reaching for the roof edge and hauling himself up.

He collapsed on the roof, shingles digging into his shoulders and back as his chest heaved. Slowly, he raised his hands to the sky, the earliest hint of sunlight creeping through the night's last moments.

The sky above him, no walls in sight... it was like a crushing weight had suddenly been lifted.

Gradually, it became easier to breathe. The panic slowly left him, the tightness in his shoulders relaxing as his exhaustion began to return. He began twirling his wand above him, watching the wood spin between his fingers. A sense of peace wafted over him, and before the impulsiveness left him, he cast a favorite spell from his youth.

"Verdimillious," he muttered, and watched as green sparks shot from his wand.

Abruptly, his mind was elsewhere.

Running from Hogwarts, looking over his shoulder and seeing the Morsmordre floating above the astronomy tower.

The same spell floating over a raided village, the flames of the wreckage reflecting its color.

In the drawing room, witnessing an execution.

At dinner, when the Dark Lord murdered Professor Burbage.

On the field, dodging spells on both sides-

"Shit!" he hissed, sitting up in a flash. "Shit, shit, shit!"

The relief he had bathed himself in was gone in an instant. "You idiot, what if someone had seen?!" Staring accusatorially at his wand, he resisted the temptation to toss it off the roof. What if someone mistook it for an Avada? You'd be right back in that cell, except this time you'd be the one being dragged and screaming!

His fingers tightened on his wand. "I'm not going back," he ground out, teeth clenched. "If they come for me, I'll run."

And if they find me, I'll end it.

Merlin knew he was capable.

The sun was breaking the horizon before Draco relaxed his fist and collapsed back on the shingles.

This was bad. He felt so out of control, so unstable. No wonder he couldn't go home.

With an irritated glower, Severus closed his bedroom door far more gently than he wished to and tied his robe closed with sharp, jerky movements. "Damn bird," he muttered to himself, crossing over to the living room with barely open eyes. "Damn, bloody bird. Sun's barely out... should have her stuffed..."

Glaring at the owl on the other side of the glass, he threw open the window she had been rapping on with enough force that the frame shook. Hooting indifferently, Reitia hopped inside and glided over to his desk, dropping a letter onto its surface before landing on her perch. "Pleased with ourselves, are we?" he muttered as he closed the window and crossed to his desk. "I thought you were diurnal. That was your main selling point, wasn't it? Maybe try hunkering down for the night, keep your deliveries to reasonable daylight hours."

Despite his harsh words, Severus reached out to scritch Reitia's head as he glanced over the latest response from Smethwyck. As expected there wasn't much new to report, just some rehashed thought processes and talking points, but it was reassuring to note that Smethwyck wasn't changing things up last minute.

A muffled thump startled both him and Reitia, who flapped her wings in agitation. His hand stilled, and he frowned up at the ceiling when another thump echoed through the house. "Now what?" he grumbled, dropping the letter onto his desk and storming up the stairs into the attic bedroom just in time to see Draco's legs, and then the rest of him, come swinging through the window. Frozen in surprise, he just stood there while Draco adjusted his shirt and finally glanced up at him. "Oh!" Draco said with a jump. "Erm... hi."

Severus glanced towards the window and then back. "Were you on the roof?"

With an air of uncertainty, Draco straightened. "Yes."

Why were you on the roof? The question formed in his head, but Severus was far too tired to actually say it out loud. He turned and descended the stairs without a word.

This day is already off to the races, he thought to himself as he re-entered his bedroom and stripped off his robe. Crawling back into bed, he carefully slid under the covers. Despite his efforts, Hermione still stirred.

"Sev'rus?" she mumbled, lifting her very disheveled head.

Pulling her against his chest, he kissed the top of her head. "It's nothing. Go back to sleep."

Yawning widely, Hermione nodded her head and settled into his arms. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and was out in a matter of moments.

A/N: Got a serious case of Writer's Block over here, I'll be honest. I know what I want to do, just not how to get there. I'm slowly figuring it out though. At least this time it isn't a cliffhanger!