A big thank you to finemakemeyourvillian for working as beta on this chapter!
Soundtrack- "Black Dahlia" by Hollywood Undead and "Minefields" by Faouzia and John Legend
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THREE
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Draco had been to the Ministry dozens of times with his Father, but he had never seen it quite like this. The entire Atrium was empty. Curtains were closed over every office window. Hardly any of the floo fires were lit, and there was a gaping hole in the middle of the room where the fountain and surrounding statues had once sat.
On the far end a member of Magical Law Enforcement was guiding a frail old man who was mumbling incoherently, but Draco thought he picked out the phrases, "Where are you taking me?" and "Please let me go home".
Draco took heavy steps across the dark wood, letting the echo of his boots drown out the old man's voice.
He did not want to linger and look around, not that there was much to see anyways. Lucius was already winded once they reached the lifts and Draco saw his hand shake as he reached up and pressed the button with the silver snake head of his walking stick. After the Dark Lord had taken Lucius' wand, Narcissa had done her best to repair it for use again. But it was no longer a weapon, only a crutch now.
Draco didn't wait for his Father when the doors slid open and took a long, heavy step inside the lift.
"Level one. The Minister's office." Lucius' voice was raspy and low. He cleared his throat loudly and smoothed out his coat with a thin hand, making sure his sleeve was pulled down far enough to cover the tattoos on his forearm.
Draco rolled his eyes. "I know where the Minister's office is."
Lucius' eyes cut to Draco's outstretched hand and the Malfoy signet ring on his finger as Draco lifted it to mash in one of the buttons on the panel.
Draco stuck it back in his pocket and gripped the handle of his wand.
The doors opened and Lucius stuck his cane out, blocking Draco from exiting first. "Traditions must be respected, Draco," Lucius muttered as he moved past his son.
Draco let his face fall into its practiced position of indifference. "I'll be sure to remember that at your funeral."
Lucius stopped and spun around so quickly that Draco almost ran into him. Before his Father had been taken to Azkaban, Draco had been just about the same height as him. He had hit growth spurts several times in his life, shooting up inches overnight and over the past year, Draco had hit another. Lucius now had to tilt his chin up to look into his son's eyes.
His Father's eyes were a paler shade of grey than his own and Draco was reminded of the dead, grey glaze of Ghostie's gaze, but he did not flinch. He stared back down, unblinking.
Lucius sucked his teeth and curled his lip; his scowl fell into the creases that now lined his face. And just because he could, Draco smiled.
"Don't worry Father. I'll make sure you get all the honors you deserve."
Lucius looked livid and just for a moment, Draco saw the glimmer of the man who had raised him return. Then he narrowed his pale eyes and turned stiffly, walking out of the lift and into the reception area of the Minister's office leaving Draco to follow in his footsteps.
Draco wasn't surprised to see people here. Witches and wizards buzzed around, summoning files from cabinets that burst into quick flickers of flame before the ash fell down on the discarded desks. It was a purge, a cleansing. A return to purity.
He brushed a piece of ash from his shoulder and moved towards the large double doors at the other end of the room. He watched his Father straighten out his spine, lift his chin, and walk as confidently as he could past the workers destroying documents to make room for the new regime.
Lucius' walking stick struck the dark wooden floor sharply, but Draco could still hear the hollow echo in it. His father paused only to open the door before striding in like he was the Minister himself.
The sound of the cane was muffled by thick, rich carpet and Draco felt himself sink almost an inch into it as he took his place at his Father's side in front of the Minister's desk.
Pius Thicknesse was a slim man with grey streaks in his dark hair that ran down into the thin beard hanging down off of his chin. He got to his feet and stuck out his hand warmly to greet Lucius. Draco watched Pius glance down at their collapsed hand as he registered the weakness in Lucius' grip.
"Lucius! Good to see you. And you've brought your son; I don't think I've had the pleasure-"
Draco looked down at the hand extended to him. Thick black hairs curled over the fingers and the skin was tanned and creased. Draco pulled his hand from his pocket and held it out, the silver of his ring gleaming for a moment.
"Draco," he said in the same affected tone as his Father. "Draco Malfoy."
It was a bold move, showing off the ring and claiming the family name for himself. His Mother had told him to go to show solidarity. She had also told him to keep his Father safe and no amount of support was going to win his Father any respect back. But there was nothing stopping Draco from snatching it up for himself.
He made sure to apply a little more effort than was needed in clasping Pius' hand and when the Minister went to pull back, Draco held on. Leaning in, he lowered his voice. "This is a real treat for me, Minister. I've always wanted to sit behind that desk. Maybe one day I will."
Draco kept his grip and his gaze unyielding until the Minister looked down at the desk between them.
Pius licked his lips nervously as Draco released his hand. "Ah, yes, well-" he gave Draco a flat smile, not exactly meeting his eyes. "High ambitions, this one, eh Lucius?"
Draco's Father glanced over at him. "He's a Malfoy. Now where's my medal?"
Pius' mouth pulled thin into a wry smile. "In the conference room. They are almost ready for us."
Lucius gripped the head of his walking stick and pulled himself up to his full height towering over the desk while Draco shifted his weight, leaning heavier on one leg and slouching to show his indifference.
The Minister looked between the two Malfoys quickly trying to size them up. Draco could feel the frustration rolling off his Father at being made to wait and turned his own expression cold in comparison to his Father's barely controlled anger.
Lucius might have gotten better under Narcissa's care, but his mood swings had only declined with the addition of the added stress of their precarious situation and excessive drinking.
For a moment, Draco felt a kinship with his Father.
Lucius pulled a watch on a long silver chain and clicked it open, sighing dramatically.
The feeling passed.
"I've got the new officials gathered for the ceremony and the Prophet will be taking some photographs and quotes. There will be some refreshments afterwards if… if you're interested in staying." Pius sounded like the last thing he wanted to do was have either Malfoy in his presence any longer than necessary.
Buttoning his coat and walking over to a set of double doors, the new Minister of Magic opened one and waved his hand out. "Shall we?"
Draco let his Father walk in first, resisting the temptation to kick his cane out from under him.
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"Draco!" A high cheery voice called his name. "Well this is a treat!"
Fuck him with a broomstick. Draco did his best to hide the revulsion as he turned and saw Dolores Umbridge's sickly sweet smile waiting for him.
Great.
As if he didn't want to kill himself enough already.
He honestly hadn't given her a single thought since the end of his fifth year and the removal of her from Hogwarts, but it made sense that she returned to the Ministry. She had obviously held onto her position even through the last two Ministers and judging by her presence here, she must have gotten a promotion under the new regime.
"Professor," he greeted her with all the civility his Mother had drilled into him as a child. "What a lovely surprise."
She gave that little giggle and Draco thought he might retch.
"My my, you've certainly grown up." A wide smile stretched over her toad-like face. "Am I correct that you've left school already?"
He watched her beady eyes dart down to his left arm and then back up. It was covered by a carefully tailored jacket, but what was underneath it wasn't exactly a secret anymore. After last June everyone knew where Draco's loyalties lay. Or at least, where they were supposed to.
"My services are no longer required there."
Her mouth popped open and he could see a smudge of pink lipstick on her small teeth. Then the simpering smile was back and she tilted her head to the side, making her bubblegum pink bow wobble. "You always did have potential. I saw it even then. That's why I made you Head of my Inquisitorial Squad. I knew you were going places."
Of course he was fucking going places. He was a goddamn Malfoy. She didn't see something special in him, she had seen a meal ticket.
Although being in the Inquisitorial Squad had been great. For a few months he had been able to walk the halls and almost no one could touch him. Even Professors ducked back in the classrooms when he, Crabbe, and Goyle passed by. Anyone could be reported for an infraction. No one was safe. Not from him.
It was when Umbridge had asked the Squad to figure out what Potter and his friends were doing that Draco had started wandering the halls late at night, hoping to catch her. His fantasy of finding her after hours had started as a niggling thought and worked itself into a full blown infatuation so much that he had ducked inside empty classrooms to beat off to it when it got too late and he hadn't been lucky enough to catch her.
And then she had made that fantasy come to life for him. More than that she had wanted to. Because she was his good little slut who wanted to please him and beg him and love him-
"Will we be seeing more of you here at the Ministry?"
"Oh I don't think Draco is quite ready to take on that mantle yet." Lucius sidled up next to Draco with a similar expression of affected politeness. "I've tried to talk him into an internship here but he's never shown any interest in anything that doesn't take place on the back of a broom. And with the recent changes, it's no place for a novice."
Draco turned his cold smile on his Father. "I'm a quick study. I'll be here before you know it."
"Yes we're all looking forward to it," Lucius said drolly and turned back to Umbridge giving her a warm smile. "Now is it true that you are heading up our new Muggleborn Registration Committee, Dolores? Quite impressive."
She giggled and dipped her head down a little, clasping her hands in front of her, making the rings on her fingers clack loudly together. Umbridge looked up at Lucius with her bulging eyes and saccharine smile. "Lucius, how kind of you to say so."
Draco had to stop his jaw from dropping when he saw the caked-on pink smear darken even further on Umbridge's face. She was… blushing. Dolores Umbridge was flirting with his Father. Oh sweet Salazar, he was going to be sick. This was too much. This was downright disgusting.
"I can't think of anyone better for that position."
Umbridge fell into a fit of giggles and Draco stared at his Father in disbelief. Lucius' lips curled down, frowning a little before sliding back into position as she looked back up at him.
"Why thank you, Lucius," Draco tried not to gag as Umbridge drew out the letters of his Father's name. "The first thing I am starting is using the correct terminology for them. 'Muggleborn' doesn't quite fit, does it? You see, I'm not entirely sure they are born this way. They could be obtaining powers through force or..."
Draco let his attention drift around the room. He knew many of the faces here, several from recent meetings in his own drawing room. Corban Yaxley hovered by the refreshments table, Albert Runcorn was talking to a skinny witch Draco didn't know, and Quintus Travers looked like he was slowly trying to make a break for the door.
How could they all stand here so calmly when papers burn, statues, crumbled, and people were being hauled in just outside these doors? They looked just like normal Ministry employees, but some of these people Draco had seen in Death Eater robes, killing, maiming, and laughing.
Had it always been like this? Within and without? Draco had grown sheltered, he knew it. There were plenty of locked doors keeping him out of rooms and halls of Malfoy Manor that his Father did not deem him worthy of entering. Now knowing what happened inside of them, he wasn't sure what side he wanted to be on.
Umbridge straightened her bow with a quick tug. "You'll have to stop in and see the new office sometime. I can give you a personal tour."
"Oh I am sure you're much too busy to cater to me, Dolores." Lucius waved a hand in dismissal.
Her face fell. "But-"
"And you are doing such important work, rounding up those who pose a threat to our world. I would not want to take a minute of your time. In fact, we ought to let you get back to it now. Draco?"
Lucius placed his hand on Draco's shoulder. It gripped him hard, but released quickly. Lucius was still weak. Draco knew that was the real reason his Father was declining the invitation. A new department meant new opportunities to gain influence and collect power. But Draco was interested for more than those reasons
Umbridge was rounding up Muggleborns? He remembered how she hated Granger back in school, always talking down to her and cutting her off in class. What would she do if she got her fat, ringed fingers on his Mudblood?
Mudblood? Shit. He hadn't called her that in months. It must be the company he had been keeping lately. Although he would have to start calling them that again, have to get used to dropping it casually in conversation as if it was just another word. Because in his new world, it would be. Umbridge was working to make it so and he knew she moved quickly.
Draco glanced down at it and saw the black ink of a tattooed rune peeking out from his Father's sleeve, a mark of the prison that had broken him. Draco felt the tremor pass through Lucius' hand. His Father needed to get back home, Draco knew it; this outing had been about as much as he could stand.
He didn't deserve to wear the Malfoy ring anymore. Or the stupid golden metal pinned on his chest. He deserved to go back to fucking Azkaban, not prance around the Ministry like he hadn't attacked Granger just a few levels below their feet.
Useless.
And Lucius thought Draco wasn't ready? He'd show him ready.
"Actually Father," Draco plucked his hand off his shoulder. "I think I'd like to hear more about this Muggleborn Registration Commission."
Lucius' eyes flashed.
"In fact, Dolores," Draco watched Umbridge's eyes slide from his Father to him. "I think it's time that I do get involved here at the Ministry and there is no greater work than making sure Mudbloods are put exactly where they belong."
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After the Ministry, the last place Draco wanted to be was stuck in the Manor with his Father who wouldn't shut the fuck up whinging about how it should have been him in the Minister's seat- not Pius fucking Thicknesse. Draco had to bite his tongue from asking if Lucius had planned on making Dennis the Dementor his Senior Undersecretary.
He watched his Mother fawn over the golden medal, and her husband, until Lucius settled down enough that the threat of another fit passed. He watched his Father calm as his Mother took her handkerchief out and rubbed it over his new medal, straightening it out on his chest and said, "I am so proud of you, my love."
Draco stormed off to his room; a searing, clawing pain in his chest he couldn't pinpoint the source of, but he was pretty sure it was Granger's fault.
These days everything felt like her fault.
And at night they felt like his.
It didn't get much better when he locked himself in his room. But he did go a little numb after digging his wand back into his arm and holding the curse until he spasmed so hard his wand flew out of his hand.
But even that lovely dullness didn't last and the color came back into his vision when the goddamn yowling started. He considered throwing the cat out, but even with the Dark Lord abroad there was something that stopped him from letting Crookshanks leave the safety of his bedroom.
At the same time, Draco couldn't stand the ginger terror who would sit and glare at him and fucking meow from that awful piece of furniture Draco refused to look at, but the damn cat had taken a liking to.
He had almost cursed the thing into scraps of fabric, puffs of stuffing, and shards of wood, but standing there with his wand pointed and ready to destroy it, Crookshanks had jumped on it, purring as he settled himself down on the plush velvet.
"Fine," Draco grumbled, "at least it will keep you off the bed."
He turned and grabbed the bottle off the top of his bureau. He was negotiating with a cat. And he had lost.
When he woke up in the morning he saw the mostly empty bottle on the floor beside his bed. He'd have to get more. Much more. His Father's drink of choice was wine, but that didn't stop Lucius from downing a bottle of fire whisky when his own stores were low.
And that's what led him to Ogden's distillery where Draco planned on setting up a regular shipment to the Manor and spotted a familiar deeply lined and terribly scared face shuffling down the street.
He almost didn't recognize his old Defense Against the Dark Arts professor; the years had not been kind to Lupin. His cloak weighed heavy on his thin frame and his hair was more grey than brown now. Draco watched him move cautiously and grabbed a bottle from the crate he had just purchased and tucked it into his robes, considering his options.
Bringing in an Order member would gain his prestige. There was much that the Dark Lord could do with someone like Remus Lupin and from Yaxley's intelligence reports from the Auror office Lupin was one of the Order's most successful duelers and worked as one of the top agents both under Dumbledore and Mad Eye. If Draco captured him, he would win back any of the status he lost when Snape killed Dumbledore instead of doing it himself.
Or he could follow Lupin and see if he led him to Granger. The thought of finding Granger and having her back made any glory the werewolf's capture and death might bring him fade into the back of his mind as images of Granger bent over the chaise, tied and twisting, filled every crevice of his brain.
Draco popped the collar on his coat, not minding the heat, and started after him.
For days.
Once Lupin caught on there was someone tailing him, he was trickier than Draco had given him credit for. It only took one day and Draco realized it was probably the wolf senses helping him out. Draco had hoped to keep his cover, but when a sharp wind blew and Lupin's head jerked up in Draco's direction, he knew he had been made.
But even though Lupin knew he was there, he did not turn and fight, instead he seemed to take pleasure in dragging Draco around to the most random and boring places he could possibly think of.
Draco started to get frustrated. He had hoped Lupin would lead him to some safe house or at least a gathering of Order members where he might be able to glean some information on where Granger was, but all he did was spend his days moping and wandering around. It was the morning of the second day the thought occurred to him that Lupin was trying to shake him completely before heading off to wherever his original destination was.
Draco stayed on him. Relentlessly. Just out of range, keeping to the shadows, and hovering downwind whenever possible. It wasn't that much different than hunting his prey down in the woods, except deer did not bite back and Draco started to get nervous thinking about the full moon approaching. Where would Lupin go when he transformed? And would Draco be led into a trap to be torn apart?
Was this all some wild scheme by the Order to lure Death Eaters in using their wolf as bait? Interesting strategy, Draco mused, a little impressed, before remembering the Order were too noble to orchestrate a death that bloody. They probably believed in clean killing blows. And that's why they would lose.
So he stayed on Lupin's tail, so he could save Granger from these dumb fucks and keep her safe. Maybe if she was around the furball it wouldn't cry at him as much.
Draco rationed his whisky drinking only enough to keep the headache away and his mind clear enough so he wouldn't lose his mark. It was awful and he fought the urge to drink the whole bottle just to numb the beating in his chest as he sat, awake and watching the entire night.
The next day wasn't much better and Draco considered just attacking Lupin, out of boredom more than anything else, but Granger's disapproving face poked up from under the trap door at his feet and Draco rolled his eyes and allowed himself another swallow to make shoving her back down a little less painful.
He was going to get a lock for the trap door. Maybe a large rock to put on top. One big enough that he could bend her over it when he did let her out. Pull on her thick curls until she was curved back into him and he could watch her tits shake as he fucked her. His cock swelled in his trousers.
Lupin started off at a quick pace and Draco stretched his long legs out to follow him. Making sure his hand never left the handle of his wand in the holster at his hip. He had to focus. There would be plenty of time for that later once he actually had Granger and was able to do all the disgusting things he had concocted over the past few months to her, turning himself raw trying to find an ounce of relief.
When Lupin settled in a dirty doorway for the night, Draco inwardly groaned and leaned up against the side of a brick building, allowing himself a few extra mouthfuls of whisky to get him through the night. He was as exhausted as Lupin looked and Draco knew neither of them could keep this up much longer. If Lupin didn't slip up soon, Draco would have to take him down and haul him in.
He would get Granger's location one way or another. He had just hoped it wouldn't have included torturing and maiming one of her friends, but… the bitch shouldn't have run.
He watched Lupin. Watched him pull his ratty cloak around him and lean his head into the side of the doorway, closing his eyes. Draco recognized the troubled expression on Lupin's face. He knew it well and the only reason they weren't mirror images of each other was Draco hid his behind practiced impassivity. He had heard that werewolves had a harder time controlling their emotions and Lupin's torment was clear even in sleep. He was missing someone. He was hurt. He was torn.
Draco felt a strange pulling sensation in his chest as he narrowed his eyes at Lupin and drowned it out with another drink.
The liquor and constant chase caught up to him and Draco found his chin hitting his chest and his burning eyes drooping as he tried to keep Lupin in his sights.
He woke up every half hour that night, but each time Lupin was still there, passed out. Unconscious. It would be so easy to inch a little closer, aim his wand, and stun the sleeping man. He could tell the werewolf didn't have much left in him. How long had he already been running when Draco had spotted him? How many nights had he spent sleeping against hard bricks and surviving on scraps?
Draco had never missed his bed more. But he had to make it through the night and find out where Lupin was heading and he would be one step closer to filling his wonderful, soft, warm bed with Granger.
And then breaking it with her under him.
When Draco jerked awake from dozing he looked up at the stars to see that dawn was less than an hour away. Lupin hadn't stirred once.
Some Order member he was. Draco could have killed him half a dozen times through the night. So why hadn't he?
Draco watched the werewolf and for three seconds wondered what would happen if he walked over there, told him everything, and handed over his wand in exchange to be taken to Granger. She'd run into his arms and he'd bury his face in her curls, breathing in her vanilla cinnamon scent. He'd finally get to touch her and she would feel so good.
Draco sat down in his mind and pried up a floorboard. Granger looked up at him. And smiled.
Shit. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. And sweet and good and… he wasn't. He was a Death Eater and no amount of explaining or excuses that could absolve him from what he had done. He might not have killed Dumbledore, but he was the reason the old man was dead. And Lupin, being Dumbledore's bitch, wouldn't even give Draco the chance to tell him what actually happened on the tower.
He would do what Draco hadn't been able to and fire the unforgiving green light at him if Draco tried to approach. He'd probably enjoy it too, the fucking animal.
Anyways he shouldn't even entertain ideas like that. They had only gotten him more fucked than ever and gotten Dumbledore killed in the process. And he wouldn't be thinking those things if he hadn't been following Lupin around for going on three days with only winks of sleep and a bottle of whisky to keep him going.
There was no use trying to ask for mercy. There was only one way to stop being a Death Eater.
Draco rubbed his eyes and watched colors move in his vision. He blinked, clearing them and looked back to the doorway.
Lupin was gone.
Draco darted forward, pulling his wand from the holster strapped to his thigh and wildly looked around for any sign of the werewolf.
A loud crack sounded behind him and Draco knew Lupin was gone. He had lost him. Lost his best chance at finding Granger in weeks.
He pulled out the bottle and smashed it on the pavement under his feet, liquor splashing over his boots and glass sparkling in the pale moonlight.
"FUCK!"
.
Hermione was starting to get anxious. They had been in Grimmauld Place for a week now and between Harry's glum moods and Ron's incessant grumbling, Hermione was having a hard time focusing on studying Dumbledore's copy of Tales of Beetle the Bard.
And the shadowy figure in the back of her mind was not helping.
As aggravating as her friends could be sometimes, Hermione made sure she did not spend too much time on her own. Not since the night in the bath.
And she wasn't really bothered by them. Sometimes it almost felt like it used to, the three of them spending time together, talking things out and solving the problem in front of them as they had done so many times before.
Then Harry would sigh and rub his eyes behind his glasses, getting up without a word and walking off to some distant part of the house. As soon as Harry was not in the room Ron's face would fall, minisculely, but Hermione still noticed. Even if he barely looked her in the eyes anymore. Ron was never… rude to her, but there always seemed to be something separating them now. She was surprised Harry hadn't said anything about it, but he did seem to have a lot on his mind these days.
They all did. She just wasn't sure if she wanted to know what was on Ron's or not. As far as her own, the pile of messy thoughts was starting to give her anxiety and anytime she looked at it too long he would lift his blond head and say, "You know I can help you relax."
And Hermione would press her knees together, pick at her fingers in her lap and find herself biting her lip. As soon as she noticed what she was doing she would release it. Then the temptation would get the better of her and Hermione would bring it back in between her teeth and bite down again while he smirked at her behind her closed lids.
She wanted news from the outside world. The closest they had come was when Remus visited, but that had been cut short when Harry went into another one of his rages causing Remus to storm off.
Hermione chased after him. Before he could yank the door open, she grabbed onto his arm, finger slipping into a hole in his cloak.
"Remus," she pleaded, "wait-"
"I won't stay where I'm not wanted, Hermione, and I think Harry has made himself very clear on this matter." He kept his face turned away from her, but Hermione could see the shadow that hung over it. He told them how he had been running from a Death Eater for three days before he was able to make it here. Surely he had been planning to stay and rest longer than an hour and Hermione was worried that he might not be able to shake another one in his current state.
"He's not been himself lately," she said softly, glancing over her shoulder to make sure neither Harry nor Ron had followed her. "He found a letter Lily had written to Sirius and he… He didn't mean it. You know Harry doesn't think you're a coward."
"I am," he said in a barely audible whisper. "Nothing but a coward for trying to hide from the truth and marrying her-"
"No, you're not." Hermione squeezed his arm. "Tonks is a strong, smart woman. Do you think she would marry a coward?"
Remus looked back at her, pain stretched across his scarred face and for a moment Hermione remembered the white jagged scars that cut into Draco's torso.
A weak smile flittered over Remus' face, but there was no joy in it, only bitter resignation.
"Remus," Hermione softly let go of his arm, "Have you..."
She wanted to ask about Draco. Wanted to know if Remus had heard anything, seen anything, maybe in the papers. The copy of the Daily Prophet Remus had brought with him was the first one they had seen since arriving at Grimmauld Place and Hermione had to stop herself from grabbing it and searching for his name like she had done every day this summer.
Was he alright? Was he hiding? Was he hurt?
Was he coming for her?
"Have I what?"
Hermione bit her lip. "Just… be careful."
Remus nodded sharply and departed.
Hermione made her way back into the kitchen. Ron was stirring something in a large cauldron over the fireplace that actually smelled halfway decent. He looked up at her and with the bright fire lighting him up from underneath, the shadow of his furrowed brow wasn't as dark as it had been lately.
Ron stood up and took a step towards her.
"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked quickly.
Ron jerked his head to the stairs. She saw the copy of the Daily Prophet on the table and scooped it up before heading upstairs, leaving Ron to turn back to the fire that lit up his red hair like freshly polished copper.
The door to Sirius' bedroom was closed, but she could hear Harry moving around in there. He had been coming up here quite often lately and Hermione was about to knock on the door when she stopped. Maybe he needed some time alone. That couldn't have been easy for him with Remus and Harry usually needed time to calm down before he discussed things with her and Ron.
She tucked the paper under her arm and wandered down the hall. The room with the Black family tapestry was actually great for reading in since the thick fabric absorbed the creaks and groans of the house, making it one of the quietest, calmest places. If you could ignore the woven gazes of generations of Purebloods and the occasional burn mark. Hermione settled herself under the window, letting the stream of light fall above her head and opened the paper.
Harry's face stared back at her, underneath a caption read that he was wanted for questioning in Dumbledore's death. She scoffed and flipped the page. Rita Skeeter's book on Dumbledore was coming out soon and Hermione briefly read over the article, frustration growing with each twisted word. Hermione wished she had kept that awful woman in that jar. Maybe thrown it in the ocean and done the world a favor.
"You're cute when you're mad." The figure in the back of her head had one knee bent, resting his elbow on it while the other leg sprawled gracefully in her direction. "And downright adorable when you're murderous."
Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to ignore him. She opened them again and started reading to distract herself. There was lots of information to be gathered between the lines of the articles. The Ministry was still operating, but it was obvious that the seat of power had shifted. Hermione blanched when she read a notice that all Muggleborns would need to register themselves with the new Muggleborn Registration Commission by September 1st.
She couldn't bear to finish the article. Hermione flipped the pages quickly, ripping a few in her haste. She reached the society pages and her stomach lurched. It jumped into her throat, along with her heart, and they battled, choking her as she stared down at the picture in front of her.
He was slouching, but his tall frame still made him stand out. He had his left hand in his pocket and was fiddling with the large Malfoy ring on his right in boredom, twisting it and rolling his wrist around. His hair was perfectly set, pushed back and shining brilliant enough that it was even impressive in black and white. But it was his face that she couldn't stop staring at.
The same bored impassive expression that he had always worn and a slight roll of his eyes played over and over. She watched it for… she didn't know how long. Long enough that she started feeling light headed from lack of air, long enough to get out of breath, long enough for her lungs to stop working entirely.
He was… fine. She had been worried sick over him; wondering if he was chained up somewhere or lying in a pool of his own blood. Wondering what sort of punishment Lord Voldemort had dolled out on him.
And here he was attending Ministry functions and dressed in the finest suit she had ever seen. It was tailored perfectly to him, draping over him in casual elegance. The fabric hung gracefully on him, only tightening to accentuate the features he wanted to show off. He looked like he was made for it. Made for this.
Maybe he was. Standing next to his Father, the Death Eater he had sprung from prison with his betrayal, Draco looked every inch the arrogant aristocrat she had always known he was. This… this was Malfoy, not Draco. He should be the one wanted in connection to Dumbledore's murder, not Harry. He had been there after all, stood beside Snape as he raised his wand and killed the man who had convinced her to trust Draco one more time.
Dumbledore had been right to think Draco might not want to be saved. And if she hadn't spoken up for him, maybe Dumbledore would have handled the situation like he originally planned to. Instead he was dead and Draco was walking around like nothing had even happened. Or like it had happened according to plan.
Hot blood pushed under her skin, heating it to an uncomfortable level. He wouldn't even try for her. He wouldn't even consider it. When she begged him, pleaded with him, Draco had told her no. That he wouldn't. That he couldn't.
That this was the only way.
Hermione's hands clenched around the paper, crumpling it in her fists.
She watched him make the same movements over and over, never changing the pattern. She noticed the expansion of his chest, as if he was taking a large breath and the small crease between his brows. What was going on behind that marble mask?
Hermione studied him, every inch of him for some sign of… of what? What did she even want from him anymore?
"I know what you want. Close the door, Granger, and I'll give it to you."
She wanted him out. Out of her head. Which was crazy because she knew he wasn't really there, but… he was. She had felt him, hidden back there, ever since he had put her under the imperius curse. Draco had slithered in, found a warm dark place he liked, and never ever left.
Hermione took a deep breath. She couldn't think about that night. He had used an Unforgivable curse on her. She looked at the haughty expression sitting lightly on his carved marble face. How could he have done that? How could he have held her and told her he loved her and then betrayed her like that? To take her over… just like Ron said.
"Hey-" Harry was standing in the doorway. "What are you doing in here?"
Hermione pushed herself up, folding the paper and dusting her hands off on her jeans. "Just reading."
Harry eyed the paper. He had never completely forgiven the Prophet for printing all that libel about him in their fifth year. "Come on, we shouldn't leave Ron on his own for too long."
Hermione followed Harry back down into the kitchen where she was surprised by the thick, savory smell wafting into the hall.
"Is Kreacher back?" Harry darted in and looked around quickly. Ron was standing next to the fire, adding a pinch of some powder to the cauldron suspended over the warm flames. Steam rose off of it and another wave of the hearty smell hit Hermione. Harry paused, staring at the stove. "Ron, did you make that?"
Ron's ears turned red. "Yeah, well… I couldn't stand another day of Hermione's 'bread sandwiches'."
Hermione put her hands on her hips. "What was wrong with my-"
Ron gave her a knowing look. "You can't put one dab of old butter between two slices of moldy bread and call it a sandwich, Hermione. A man's gotta eat."
The rolling hunger in her stomach silenced her protest. Ron wasn't wrong exactly. Hermione's attempts to feed the three of them over the past couple of days had been meager at best and she could not deny that the smell of whatever Ron was stirring was making her mouth water.
"When did you learn to cook?" Hermione asked, nonplussed. She always knew Ron loved to eat and when he started talking about food she had normally pulled out a book and let him ramble in the background.
Ron brought the large wooden spoon to his lips, tasting the stew. "Mum taught me. You've seen me make food at the Burrow dozens of times; how did you not know I love to cook?" he added at Hermione's shocked expression.
Harry was summoning bowls from the cabinet that clattered as they hit the table. "I'm so hungry you could probably stick Kreacher's bedding in a pot and I'd eat it at this point."
Ron laughed. It was his boisterous, too loud laugh that she had heard so many times before. She wasn't sure when the last time she heard it was and… she missed it.
She wanted her friend back. She wanted it to be like it was when she could take comfort in things like his laugh and his smile and not see the cloudy judgement when she happened to catch his eye. They had never finished the conversation from the wedding and honestly, she wasn't sure she wanted to at this point. Maybe it would be best to just try and move past it.
The stew popped and spat out a drop of boiling liquid that landed on Ron's freckled arm. He jerked back, dropping the wooden spoon and swore loudly.
The slouched figure snorted and it was followed by a low rumbling chuckle. His grey eyes gleamed in the shadows of her messy thoughts.
"Dumbass."
Hermione rushed forward and picked up the wooden spoon as Ron rubbed his arm generously. Tapping it with her wand to clean it off, Hermione held it back out.
Ron looked down at the spoon then his blue eyes lifted to meet hers and for a moment they each held the opposite end of the wooden spoon.
The grey eyes stormed and flashed like lightning.
Hermione let go. She tucked her curls behind her ears and offered Ron a nervous smile.
"Well, I am very excited to-" she glanced down into the boiling pot, "try your… stew, Ronald."
Ron blinked and a strange expression flitted across his face before he looked away, face falling a little as he started stirring the stew again. "Go help Harry. It will be ready soon."
.
Draco and Theo walked into a large circular room with a deep pit in the middle. There was no other word for it. Arena was too nice; there was no bright sand or large columns, only a bare dark floor and tall, heavy walls that stretched up fifteen feet to keep the bustling crowd out of danger from the claws. And teeth. In fact, Draco thought he might have seen a few loose ones mixed in with the dirt and sludge on the pit's floor.
Interesting.
Theo was beaming, knocking the back of his hand against Draco's shoulder and urging him on through the crowd. Draco recognized some of the faces around him, but most were hidden behind hoods and hats. He hadn't bothered to hide his face like most of the attendees; Draco was here to be seen. And he had no idea how some of these people were able to stand it, there was little ventilation in the room and plenty of bodies taking up every inch of spare space.
It was loud, hot, and sweaty. Everything smelled. Like blood and dirt and sweat and… wet dog. Not to mention the thick, tangy scent of rotten blood. Maybe meat. It was hard to tell, the floor of the pit was dark.
After he had lost Lupin, Draco owled Theo and asked if he wanted to go to the club he mentioned at Blaise's. Draco couldn't afford to lose another lead and if he missed this month, he'd have to wait another cycle before the next full moon. His eagle owl had returned the same evening with the address in Theo's near illegible writing. Calix was preening his feathers after his flight when Crookshanks curled his bushy tail around Cal's perch.
Calix blinked his golden eyes angrily at Draco and gave a loud shriek before taking flight again. Crookshanks ran to the window, but Draco grabbed him before he could follow the bird outside and growled, "Cal can come and go as he pleases. You're on lock down."
"Come on," Theo urged with all the excitement of a seven year old. "The best place to watch is up here and I know how you love a good view." Draco rolled his eyes and let Theo fight the crowd, following behind him in the easy wake.
Theo shoved a large robed man out of the way and he spun around, wand in his hand and a scowl on his face.
"Watch where you're going!" he snarled.
Theo squared his shoulders and although half the weight of the man in the robe snarled back with just as much venom, "I am. And you're in my way."
The large man ripped back his hood, raised his wand up, and froze. Without his hood limiting his vision, the man had caught sight of Draco's stark blond hair.
"Hello Rowle."
One of his eyes was dead. Caked over with a dusty crust and a glassy blue pupil in the middle, surrounded by a mess of broken blood vessels.
Draco had aimed his curse into the soft flesh of the eyeball. He remembered watching the red light reflected in the wetness of the open, screaming eye.
"Malfoy." Rowle looked a mixture of terrified and furious.
Draco stepped up next to Theo. "This is a good view. It should be occupied by someone who can fully appreciate it though."
Theo laughed loudly and Rowle's scowl darkened.
He tried to curse Granger. He tried to curse Granger. Draco repeated it to himself, over and over, forcing it down his own throat to still the revulsion churning in him at the sight of the eye. At what he had done.
"I've known plenty of jumped up little shits like you," Rowle said darkly. "You think you're something just because you can follow someone else's orders?"
Draco stepped up. When he wasn't slouching, he was taller than Rowle and he glared hard down into the dead eye that had given him his last look at Granger, scared and running. "I'm not under anyone's orders now. And you're not under anyone's protection either. He told me to stop. I would have kept going."
Rowle blanched.
He would have killed her. He would have hauled her back to be tortured. He deserved what he got.
I should do it again.
Rowle's one good eye dropped to the floor and he muttered darkly under his breath as he shuffled his large frame out of the way. Draco gracefully stepped up into the railing, taking the spot Rowle had just vacated.
Theo shoved someone else out of the way as they tried to move into the open space and shoved his shoulder playfully against Draco's.
"That was badass," Theo grinned. "Shit, I can't wait until this year is over and I can take the mark too-"
Draco's head snapped to the side and Theo's words died in his mouth. "What? You want it?"
Theo forced out a breath. "Of course! Who- who wouldn't? That's power, mate."
Draco kept his expression impassive. Theo didn't know fucking shit about what it was the bear the mark. There was only one person that the mark made more powerful and that was through the oath and enslavement of his loyal followers.
Draco would never be free. The mark was a lock on his body, trapping him in it. His bones were his cage, his blood binding with every beat of his heart. He'd never get out. Never be able to leave. The power of the mark extended deeper than his skin.
But as much of a cage as it was, at least Granger would be safe inside it with him. And that's why he was here, after all, in this dark, sweltering, smelly place where he was about to watch two werewolves rip into each other.
And then he was going to hire the victor.
There was a large clanking overhead and Draco looked up to see the ceiling split into slats and retract in a circular movement. The bright light of the full moon shone down, illuminating the pit below.
Fresh air. Draco breathed in deeply, trying to dispel some of the stench from his nostrils. The night air smelled sweet and crisp compared to the thick musk and foul rottenness he had been breathing in for the past few minutes. The bright moonlight was pale and cold, but at least turning his face up to it was a small reprieve from the death that seemed to surround him now.
Low, deep, hungry howls sounded from behind the walls of the pit and Draco watched as several evenly placed wizards at the railing drew their wands, pointing them at rusted, dented doors. He could hear claws scratching against the metal walls and out of one came a vicious snarl. Draco's shoulders tensed and adrenaline surged through him. After tonight, he wouldn't be sitting in his room getting pissed anymore; he'd finally be able to do what he should have been this whole time.
This was how he would hunt her. Find her. And once he did, he would never, ever let her go.
Theo's voice dropped, heavy with excitement and he nodded to the dark pit below. "It's starting."
.
Hermione stood at the edge of the trees. They stretched up, almost scratching the sky with their thick branches, blocking the light from reaching the ground below.
She stepped inside.
Immediately she felt the change in the atmosphere. It was dense and oppressive, like something… caging her in. And she couldn't help but think of the dark trees as bars.
"Harry?" she called out and walked further in, a twig snapping under her foot.
Then she was running, looking for him or Ron or… she knew who she was looking for. She just didn't know if she was running from him or to him.
Branches scratched at her face, but Hermione didn't stop. There was something behind her. She could hear it crashing through the brush.
Panic gripped her throat and she glanced over her shoulder. It was large and dark and- coming for her.
Right behind her.
Almost on her.
A painful roar woke her and Hermione jumped in her sheets. She grabbed her wand and ran to Harry's room. After a misunderstanding about whether her hand had fallen off the couch or not to land beside Ron's, Hermione decided it would be best if they all chose individual rooms. Once Kreacher returned, he was more than happy to tidy them up and replace the moth-eaten blankets with freshly laundered sheets and duvets. Hermione moved right in, happy to have her own space again.
To be honest she had been terrified she was going to call out Draco's name during the night.
But Hermione wasn't the only one with nightmares and she burst into Harry's room with the tip of her wand already lit.
"Harry!"
"Shit! Hermione!" Harry was soaking wet with sweat, out of breath, and had knocked his glasses to the floor in an attempt to get to his wand on the table beside his bed.
Hermione bent down and picked them up, tapping the lamp beside his bed and illuminating the room in a dim, golden light. Harry wiped the sweat from his face with his shirt and shoved his glasses on as Hermione extinguished her wand and sat on the edge of his bed.
"You're still seeing him aren't you?" she asked softly.
"I know you don't approve, but I can't help it. Especially when I'm asleep. It's like he just… drops in. And I can't get him out."
Hermione twisted her hands in her lap and refused to look in the back of her mind. It didn't matter. Draco had gotten bolder.
"Someone in his head? He sounds mad, pet."
Hermione ignored him.
Harry leaned back against the headboard. "If you're going to fuss at me, just do it in the morning, Hermione. I can't take it tonight."
She looked over at him. He had caught his breath some, but his black hair still stuck thickly to his forehead, the rest of it spread out in even wilder directions than it normally was. Harry rubbed his scar gingerly.
"I think we need to talk about it."
His green eyes flew open.
"I just meant," Hermione blushed, "it can't be particularly good things you're seeing and… well, you don't have to deal with this on your own. I'd like to help you, if I can."
Harry looked at her strangely and then his eyes softened. "I'll tell you what, if we make it through the Ministry today then tonight we will sit around the fire and tell all our secrets."
"Going to tell him how I had my hand down your pants while he was getting knocked from his broom? Oh I know, how about how you lied to him outside the Room of Requirement after I had you tied up and bent over and begging to fuck my big-"
Hermione shifted awkwardly on the side of Harry's bed and took a large breath, hoping the low light in the room wasn't enough for Harry to see the blush in her cheeks.
"Hey, don't worry," Harry leaned forward a little. "We've planned it all out, we'll never be more prepared than we are now. We can do this, Hermione."
Hermione's eyes fluttered a little and she nodded, smiling thinly at him. "I know. I know we will. I'm sure Ron hates me for asking so many questions about the Ministry, but we've got out layout and notes and I've read over them about fifty times so I think we can answer any questions if it comes to it, so all we have to do is-"
Harry forced out a small laugh. "Break into the Ministry of Magic and steal a horcrux off the neck of a woman who hates us all with a bright pink passion? Yeah."
Hermione felt a wave of affection for Harry. They had been through so much, and him more than any of them, and he was still here, still fighting. If Harry could find the strength to keep going, then so could she. All the messy feelings she had piled up, that he was hiding behind, she could start to sort through them. She had to.
Draco had wrecked her and she had been living in the mess he left behind, scared to touch it because she knew what would happen once she did.
And once Draco had no place to hide, she would face him herself.
.
Ron tapped her shoulder while Harry was changing into the robes of the wizard he was impersonating. Hermione was already nervous enough about heading into the Ministry as soon as Harry was finished that she didn't have enough left over to worry about how Ron was looking at her right then.
"You don't have to do this," he said in a low voice.
"Ron, I'm perfectly capable of defending myself just as well as you or Harry."
"But Harry and I aren't Muggleborns."
Hermione paused. Ron looked… genuinely concerned. It was almost laughable. "Yes, I'm sure the fact that you're labeled as a Blood Traitor and Harry is Undesirable Number One will mean nothing compared to me, a single Mudblood-"
"Don't call yourself that," Ron said and she watched his expression tighten. He tensed his shoulders as if he wasn't sure what to do with his arms. "You… you don't know what they do to… to Muggleborns. I'm worried about you."
Hermione felt a familiar pang of longing in her chest. Ron's blue eyes cleared from their cloudy darkness and for a moment he looked at her like he used to. Before he had seen her in the Room of Requirement. With Draco. And for a second she felt Draco's body pressing against hers, his arms on either side of her, holding her in as he thrust and filled her-
"Worry about Harry, Ronald, not me," she said and turned as Harry was pulling the man's coat over his shoulders and pushed the door to the street open, taking a purposeful step into the bright morning light.
.
Draco hung around until dawn, waiting on the wolves to change back and killing time with Theo, talking about the fights and drinking until the bad blood between them swirled sluggishly in the last half inch of liquor in the bottle between them. Theo had prattled on over every blow and bite of the night and made a few choice remarks about Pansy, warning Draco off again, but Draco let them slide, ignoring them in favor of the company.
"I think not having to spend the summer at her house was good for her. She's happier. Hasn't even slapped me in a week." Theo smiled happily. "And she's taking my trunk to the…" he yawned, stretching his jaw out, "to the station for me."
Draco looked over at him confused for a moment before he remembered- "Shit, its-"
"September 1st," Theo nodded and poured the last of the fire whisky into his glass.
Draco hadn't really thought about it, not going back to school, but in that moment his stomach lurched painfully inside of him as memories of Granger surged through his mind. In the Library, in class, in the corridors, in the bleachers, in the Great Hall, in the Room of Requirement, in the mud.
In the Restricted Section.
"I don't want someone like you to love me."
Draco pulled his walls in tighter, creating the small safe place where he was alone in his mind. Where she couldn't find him. Safe.
But she wasn't. He looked down at the floorboards and felt his heart give a painful beat.
"I'm moving her into our dorm this year."
Draco looked over at Theo. "Huh?"
Theo wiped a little sweat off his brow. "Pansy."
"Oh. Yeah, I mean, she's there enough already."
Theo's eyes turned a shade darker. "She always slept in my bed though."
Draco smirked and tossed back the last of his drink and set the glass down on the table. "Climbed out of it too."
"Look-" Theo slammed his glass down. "I know you two have a history, I was there for a large amount of it-"
"Not that much," Draco muttered and Theo's eyes narrowed.
"You had your fun. And that's all it ever was to you, Draco. Just like your mystery girl. You went on and on about her and where is she now? Gone. Because you-"
"Don't fucking talk about her."
Theo glanced over at Draco, thrown for a moment and then his rich eyes gleamed. "Who was it? You can tell me, Draco. It's not like it matters, right? It's over and you're not even in school anymore."
Draco ran his finger around the edge of his glass and thought about smashing it against Theo's head.
But then Theo leaned back and his stupid smile slipped back onto his face and said, "It's Blaise's Mum, isn't it?"
Draco fell forward with the force of his snort.
"Shit, mate, I don't fucking blame you," Theo went on, unable to keep a straight face, "If she didn't kill every man she fucked I'd throw my hat in the ring for Blaise's next stepdaddy." Theo finished his drink. "Don't tell him I said that though."
Draco smirked, feeling the camaraderie between them again. "No promises."
"Should have known." Theo held his fist to his chest as he burped. "You always did like him better than me."
Rolling his eyes and pushing himself up from the chair he had spent the last few hours in, Draco said, "I like everyone better than you, Theo. Now I'm going to take a piss and then go see a man about a wolf."
.
Draco stumbled on the gravel path up to Malfoy Manor. It was only midmorning, but he was very pleased with what he had accomplished already today. It wouldn't be long now until he found Granger and as soon as he did all these horrible, aching feelings would go away because she look up at him with those big, brown eyes and tell him how much she loved him and missed him and wanted to be with him.
And he'd forgive her for running and tell her everything was okay now because he'd never let her leave him again. Just like she said she wanted. Only him. Only ever him.
And even though he was exhausted and almost dragging his heavy black boots, Draco figured he had just enough energy to beat one off before he slept off the fire whisky he had been drinking for… Shit. How long had he been drinking?
He was already buzzed by the time he had met up with Theo and after the fights he had bought another bottle while he waited on the bloodthirsty animals to turn back into gold hungry men. He had his eye on two wolves, but when one of them took a bad bite to a hind leg, Draco counted it out. It would heal, but the werewolf would carry a limp from the crushed bone and Draco didn't fancy supporting another cripple.
The second wolf he had his eye on the previous night had been more than willing to sell his services to Draco and for much less than Draco had been willing to pay.
Donovan was a large man, wide and strong. As a wolf his fur was a rich grey with white running down his throat. Well, it had been white until about thirty seconds into his match and then it was dripping red. There had still been a slight stain down his neck and chest as he sat across from Draco draped in a thick fur coat and nothing else as Draco propositioned him.
"We'll be hunting a very specific prey, but any other… Undesirables we pull in, I'll give you 20% of the take."
"Fifty," he growled. "And I'll bring my sister and a friend."
Draco rolled his jaw, pretending to consider this. He didn't give a shit about the gold he could make selling Mudbloods to Umbridge. If he was able to track down another Order member, Draco wasn't going to just try and follow them; he was going to haul them back to the Manor and take the information from them.
His little interaction with Rowle had given him a few ideas for what he would do the next time.
Granger might forgive him for doing what he had to in order to survive, but where would she draw the line? Draco clenched his jaw. She didn't draw the lines, he did.
"Done. But I don't want to kick back anything to Greyback."
Donovan made a strange barking noise. "I don't answer to Greyback."
Draco lifted his chin, lifting himself taller than the man across from him. "I thought all you wolves kissed his ass. Or… licked it, I suppose."
Donovan growled. "No. Not all of us. Me, my sister, and Fergus- we are free wolves."
Draco considered this for a moment, then pulled out a heavy bag of gold and plopped it on the table between them. "Now you're my wolves."
He had a bit of a strut in his step as he walked through the busy London streets. Pulling his collar up around his face, Draco ran his hand through his messy hair. He briefly thought about stopping in to the Ministry to pay the Muggleborn Registration Office a visit, but didn't think he could stand sobering up with Umbridge yapping at him and those creepy fucking kitten plates meowing at him.
Speaking of cats, Crookshanks was probably hungry.
Draco picked up his pace.
The front door of the Manor opened for him and Draco strode in. The Dark Lord had gone abroad, but had left the snake in the Malfoys' safe keeping. Draco was tempted to accidentally leave out a poisonous slab of dragon meat in revenge for his hounds, but waved it off as a passing fancy. He wasn't doing all of this just to have the Dark Lord murder him for offing his favorite piece of rope.
Immediately Draco was hit with an overwhelming smell that left him dizzy and swaying on his feet. It surrounded him, enveloping him in a soft warmth he had almost made himself forget about. Draco breathed in deep enough that it flooded his nose and he felt it press behind his eyes.
Granger.
He tore into the dining room, blinking against the white sun streaming in from the tall windows. He was heaving in breaths, trying to taste it on his tongue, in his mouth, drink her down as his hands clenched around the handles of the double doors he had just burst through.
"Draco!"
He could hardly see straight. His vision was blurred and he felt drunk off of it. Well, he was drunk, but now he was… famished.
"Are you just getting in?" Narcissa said in an accusatory tone.
Draco straightened up and tried to make sense of his surroundings. His Mother was sitting at the table, her tea cup held halfway to her mouth. Surrounding her were bowls of sliced fruit, fluffy pastries, a delicate looking teapot, and a brightly colored quiche. He took a few more steps in, looking around for Granger. The smell hung thickly in the air. She had to be here, she had to.
But she wasn't.
He felt like he was going mad.
His Mother sighed and set her tea down. "Sit down, Draco. You need to put something on your stomach to soak up whatever you drank."
He didn't even think, he just shuffled over to the table and threw himself down. He looked over and half expected to see her just… appear in the chair next to him.
"Muttie?" Narcissa snapped her fingers and a house elf stepped forward wearing a tea towel that still had the faded pattern of some familiar looking flower on it. "Cut my son one of those. A large one," she added, narrowing her eyes at him disapprovingly.
Draco watched dumbly as the house elf placed a swirling ball of dough, smothered in white icing in front of him.
Draco's mouth watered.
Rich, spicy cinnamon swirled in the sweet dough while thick, viscous vanilla icing dripped off the top of it, leaving little drops on the china underneath.
Granger. It smelled exactly like Granger. Fuck, it almost looked like her. The icing shone brightly in the morning sun and the dark twists of cinnamon curled around the soft dough; like her hair around her pretty little face.
He wanted to swallow it whole.
"Draco, I'm getting worried about you." He looked up to see a troubled expression on his Mother's thin face. "I know that-" she paused, and took three breaths in an all too familiar fashion before she went on. "I don't want this to change you. You're still my son and I couldn't stand if you..." she glanced down at his arm. "I don't want you to lose yourself. They will twist you into someone… someone I won't know anymore."
He wished he was sober. In his inebriated state he had no comforting words for her. Was he changing? Was he becoming someone… else? Someone his Mother didn't know and someone… someone Granger couldn't love? Or wouldn't want to?
"Mum-"
"Where the fuck were you?!" Lucius' voice cut through the soft morning light and Draco's hand dropped to his thigh holster on instinct.
His Father was limping into the dining room, robe tied loosely around him and the black rune tattoos on his chest visible through the loose cords of his shirt.
He stopped opposite Draco beside Narcissa and clenched the silver snake head of his walking stick in a white fist.
"And don't try to tell me you were hunting Potter."
Draco had seen his Father upset more times than he could count, but this was one for the books. His face had an ugly flush in his cheeks, but his lips were white with rage. The pale grey of his eyes were alight with fury and Draco closed his hand around the handle of his wand. His palm was sweaty and he knew he would draw slow due to the fire whisky, but he'd be damned before he let his Father strike him again.
"What's happened?" Draco asked seriously. If his Father was this upset, something must have set him off. This wasn't just one of his unexplainable mood swings or passing strain on his temper. And he had mentioned Potter…
That meant Granger.
Lucius leaned down over the table. "Potter broke into the fucking Ministry."
The blood rushed out of Draco's head and the liquor followed it, sobering him enough for him to unknowingly find his feet under him. The chair fell back behind him.
"And he got away! Everyone is out looking for him. Yaxley was able to follow them to the old Black place in London where they've been hiding, but he slipped away again."
"London..." Draco said, barely breathing. "She was at the Ministry this morning?"
He had walked right by. He had almost gone in. He had almost had her. He had lost her. Again.
"And where were you? Out drinking with your friends and then having fucking tea with your Mother?!" Lucius swiped his hand and the tea pot when flying through the air, hitting Muttie in the head and soaking her in the scalding liquid.
Narcissa was the only one who acknowledged the elf's wail.
"Be quiet!"
"Go find him," Lucius growled and his lip curled in disgust before he turned and the sharp strike of his cane against the floor echoed with each of his shuffling steps.
Draco stared, unseeing, at one of the large sun filled windows, so bright that only white light filled it.
Narcissa reached across the table for him. "Draco…"
Draco's eyes dropped down to the oversized cinnamon roll in front of him and something bitterly sour rose up in the back of his throat.
He could have fucking had her. He had been so close and now he was farther away than ever. They would go to ground now, hide away somewhere, maybe even stay on the move so they were harder to track. She had been in London this entire fucking time and now she was Salazar knows where. And Draco was standing here, letting her get farther away with each stretched second.
No more. He should have stunned Lupin and chained him up like the beast he was until he gave up Granger's location. He should have gone back to Umbridge, offered her funding, a fucking endowment if she got him information on his fucking Mudblood. Because that's what she was. She was a Mudblood, out there, and if anyone else found her first- No.
Only him. Only ever him.
His Mother took a deep breath and pushed his plate towards him some. "Please, at least eat something first-"
Draco grabbed the plate and threw it at the window, shattering it into a myriad of serrated pieces of glass that spilled across the length of the large room. He heard his Mother gasp in surprise. His throat closed, his chest turned cold and empty. The muscle in his arm contracted, wanting the curse to sear through it and take some of this agony away.
But as much as he'd like to fuck himself up, there was something he even wanted more.
Draco turned and stormed out of the room, black boots thundering along the long hall, back to the front doors of the Manor which swung open as he stormed out into the bright morning light.
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I wish I could give a better update schedule, but right now I think the best I can do is a chapter every other Thursday. I might be able to squeeze a few in between, but no promises. I really, truly appreciate everyone reading this and I want to give you quality content and exciting chapters so that means I may need a little more time to flesh them out.
You can always follow me and TBE on twitter amory_blame for more information and announcements! I am also on instagram and tumblr.