Hey Guys!
As always, I apologise it takes me so long to write. I got promoted at my job, so I've had very little time for extracurricular activities such as writing. But this story is always lingering at the back of my mind, and I am determined to finish it one day, whenever that may be.
Please review and sending you guys my love 3
Chapter Text
Hermione's Point of View
Harry returns to the room just as Ginny gives the floor a second run-through with a mop Molly brought up from the kitchen. She does it by hand, a way to negate a lot of the nervous energy in the air. Ron stands awkwardly in the door frame, leaning, evading looking into the room too much.
"Harry?" I ask hopefully. Ginny stops washing the floor, letting the mop fall against the floor.
"What's happening?" Ginny asks, and they swap a look. I'm too weary to try and decipher it. My head is throbbing from crying, and my eyes feel swollen to the point that the skin might peel back and burst open.
"He's fine," Harry assures, raising his hands to quiet the questions from Ginny.
"He's just a little faint from the blood loss Tonk's said. She gave him something," Harry says, smirking. Before I can ask, Ginny hurls a dozen questions at him.
"Where the hell have you two been? It's been three fucking weeks, Harry!" she blurts angrily. I turn my head away a little at the pitch of her voice, feeling that I'm infringing on their conversation almost. I look towards the door expecting Malfoy to walk in again, right as rain. But he won't be. That's the issue. Unlike himself, he looked so poorly that when the lights turned on, I barely recognised him. He had almost sunken into himself.
"Things got a little complicated," Harry reveals, rolling up his sleeves as he sits beside me on that bed, laying a hand comfortingly on the small of my back.
"And you never thought to try and contact anyone? We've been going out of our damn minds here with worry! While you two vanished in the middle of the night like some bandits escaping under the cover of the moon! Gone for three weeks! No word, no nothing!" Ginny yells, her temper bubbling at the surface. Unfortunately for Harry, he does the wrong thing at that moment. He laughs slightly.
"Harry James Potter! You better not be laughing at a time like this!" Ginny says, moving towards him with her finger pointing. Harry raises his hands again in defence.
"Ginny, breathe okay. I will explain everything. Just sit down here," he says, patting the bed beside him. Ginny reluctantly makes her way over.
"You too, Ron," Harry says, but Ron fixes himself at the door.
"I'm good, mate," Ron says, eyeing the bed nervously.
"Ron sit on the fucking bed, please?" Harry calls. Ron sighs and sits on the opposite side, as close to the edge as possible.
"Were you at Malfoy Manor this whole time?" Ginny asks impatiently while Harry clears his throat.
"No, not this entire time," Harry answers. "We were only there for a day, maybe a day and a half; it's hard to tell. Things got a little complicated while we were there," Harry sighs, resigning himself to tell the story we've only speculated about a thousand times these last three weeks.
"What do you mean, complicated?" I ask. Is 'complicated' how he would describe the ruins on Malfoys chest and the missing chunk from his arm?
"We apparated far enough away and walked the distance to the Manor through the neighbouring forest. Malfoy said he knew where the wards started, and we needed to test them first. They began a long distance from his house, and he walked through, and everything seemed fine. There were no alarms, no nothing. I thought everything was fine, so I followed him, and then we heard movement in the house. I understood then that, of course, the wards would never alert him. He's a Malfoy. But they would alert for me.
That, unfortunately, made things move a lot slower as we had to navigate around the guards under the invisibility cloak."
"You set off the wards?" Ginny gasps, her hand coming up to her mouth.
"It was stupid, I know, believe me. I think we were more worried about what to do once we got inside the Manor than the wards. It was stupid on both of our parts, and it set us back a lot. Malfoy said that we couldn't move through the castle during the daytime because there are usually quite a few different people there. The only safe place to move was through the house elves' passageways that run all throughout the house. Apparently, the Malfoys don't like their guests to see the house elves, so they have passageways all around the Manor."
"Malfoy wanted to wait until night-time to make sure we weren't going to run into any of the house elves in the passages, and at the time, I didn't get it until we had to use the passageways. They were tiny, and we had to basically crawl through them."
"So, what was the problem? Did you run into one of the elves?" I ask hastily. "What about Blaise?" I inquire quietly, keeping my ears towards the hall in case I hear his footsteps.
"Blaise is fine. We got Blaise out. He went to France with his parents, I believe. There wasn't much talking; to be honest, he went rather quickly once he was free. Idiots left him alone in a room even though there had been a breach of their wards. It was a little odd. But he's gone. Somewhere safe, I imagine," Harry states. I sigh loudly, irritated by the slowness of the conversation and the limited questions that are being answered.
"So what happened, Harry? Why did Malfoy come back like that? Why didn't you come back after two days?" I ask, annoyed.
"Well," he starts, cracking his knuckles. "Everything was okay up until that point. It was the leaving that really fucked us," Harry says.
"There were many more people at the Manor than we expected, and the house elves worked later than Malfoy expected. Some of the guests were having a sort of party in the east wing of the Manor, and Malfoy said we had to go a different way through the passageways to get out. We had to pass through the wall behind his parents' room," Harry states.
Harry sits for a minute, silent as the house absorbs this information.
"And?" Ginny asks, nudging him slightly.
"We were close to the main foyer, just passing their room. There was a little door out of the passageway into the room that the elves used to access their bedroom, and it was slightly open. And we heard them talking; Malfoy's parents. But they weren't actually talking, I guess. They were fighting. Well, Lucius was fighting. Narcissa was silent. But they weren't fighting with words," Harry explains. The room slowly understands the statement.
"He was beating her?" I ask, startled.
"Within an inch of her life," Harry answers. Ginny cups her hands over her mouth.
"Before I knew it, Malfoy was through the door and left the cloak hanging over me. He tackled Lucius to the ground and started attacking him before one of the guards outside the door came in at the sound of Lucius screaming. I guess they're told to ignore Narcissa's screams for help."
"What did you do?" Ginny asks.
"What could I do? I stayed under the cloak in the passageway, clutching my wand, thinking a hand was going to reach in and just drag me out. But none came. I guess they figured Malfoy was there alone, and he alone had somehow set off the wards and freed Blaise."
"So they did that to him? Lucius's guards?" I ask. Harry nods.
"But Lucius is the one who cut the mark off his forearm from what I could gather," Harry says.
The painful thing about it is I understand the act of leaving the passageway entirely. If I had seen my father beating my mother within an inch of her life, I would have done the same, regardless of any issues I may have had with my mother.
"When they were dragging Malfoy out of the room, he kept shouting ' leave me ', and the guards, I guess, thought he was shouting at them, but I knew he was talking to me. He wanted me to go back and leave him there. But I knew you wouldn't speak to me ever again if I had done that," Harry says, stroking my back lightly with his thumb.
"I'm glad you didn't," I say quietly, grateful he understood that much about our relationship.
"But just like with Blaise, they were careless in the end. They thought Malfoy had come alone, so they weren't worried that someone was already in the Manor waiting," Harry clarifies.
"So you got him out? Did it take three weeks?" Ginny asks, tapping her foot nervously against the bedpost.
"No, it took about a day for me to learn the rotations of the guards and house elves so that I knew when the best time to go and get him was. It might have been sooner if I hadn't been caught in the foyer for a few hours while some guests were visiting. But after that, Malfoy said we couldn't go straight back. We couldn't go back the way we had come either. He said Yaxley was a great tracker. One of the best working for the Dark Lord and that we had to lay low for a while and not apparate. We stayed in a village about 10 miles away for a few days, and then we took a bus south for a couple of hours before he thought it was safe to apparate. Even then, he said we shouldn't go straight back and that we needed to apparate to a few different places and lay low to confuse anyone who was trying to follow us."
"And you just believed him? Trusted his opinion on it? Sorry, Hermione, I know that sounds bad, but did he hold his wand to your head and say you couldn't contact any of us?" Ginny argues.
"It's okay," I murmur, a little hurt by her comment.
"I did," Harry answers confidently. Ron creases his eyebrows at that comment, but Harry doesn't see or notice it.
"He knew a lot when we got to the Manor. He knew what guards would be there and briefed me on them before we went in case things took a turn for the worst. He told me which ones to watch out for and which were just boys dressed in men's clothing. He told me exactly where the wands would be, and only for that I would have spent days myself searching. He knows what he's talking about when it comes to Death Eaters. So when he said we had to lay low, no contact, I trusted his opinion. I didn't want to put anyone here in danger. Because if they knew about this place, they would be here right now. But they're not, so his plan worked," Harry explains, and Ginny sighs, rubbing at her eye slightly.
"Gin, don't be mad. You know I would have contacted you guys if it was safe," Harry explains softly, and Ron watches the conversation unsurely. He might have finally started noticing how they talk to one another. Unfortunately for him, he's one of the last people to see it.
The tone Harry uses when he speaks of Malfoy now is foreign. I'm not the only one to notice. It's not exactly like he's one of the family to Harry now. But his tone is different, softer. Less poorly veiled venom when he speaks his name. For that small change, I am grateful.
Tonks knocks awkwardly at the open door, and Harry stops speaking. She motions behind her as two order members carry Malfoy into the room. He tries to walk, but his feet sort of glide and bend awkwardly against the floor. The order members struggle against his pride as they bring him around to his side of the bed, laying him down. His eyes are almost entirely closed as Ron jumps out of the way to make room for him.
The others leave when Tonks fidgets nervously by the door. Ginny and Harry exchange a thousand-word glance as they make their way up the stairs.
"Is he okay?" I ask, and Tonks smirks.
"No, he's fine now, dear. I mean, not exactly fine you can tell that by looking at him, but I dressed his wounds and gave him something for the infection. It's just.." she trails on, looking towards Malfoy in the bed.
"What Tonks?" I ask nervously, following her gaze. Malfoy awkwardly pulls the blanket up around him, his eyes still closed.
"His arm," she starts running her fingers up and down on her own forearm where the mark would be on his.
"That's going to take some time to heal. It's a little outside my comfort level regarding wizarding medicine. I've only really been trained in the basics and wound care," she explains.
"What does that mean for him, Tonks? What should I do? He's not going to lose the arm, is he?" I ask, my voice panicked and uneven. I can feel some hot tears coming, and the thumping in my head makes it hard to keep eye contact with Tonks.
"No, he shouldn't lose the arm, Hermione. Breathe, okay? In and out," she coos, her hand on my chest.
"I'm just going to have to send some owls and see who's available to come and have a look at his arm, is all. It's going to be okay," Tonks assures me.
"Tonks, who is going to come here and help Draco Malfoy? Are you going to mention that he needs help in your owls?" I ask.
"I might have to omit that until whoever agrees to come gets here, and then I guess we'll deal with it then," she explains.
"I'll speak on his behalf," I say.
"You know I will, too," she agrees, putting her arm around me. She pulls me in for a hug and smells of firewood and fresh linen, almost like a mother should, even though she's not much older than me.
"Thank you. I'm so glad you were here, Tonks. I'm not sure what we would have done if you hadn't have been here," I say, wiping my nose on the back of my hand.
"There's one other thing I haven't mentioned yet," she says, pulling back from the hug. She smirks a little at me, and I stare at her, bewildered.
"Why are you smiling?" I ask.
"Well, he was in a lot of pain Hermione, okay? So don't get angry with me," she starts raising her hands in defence.
"I couldn't read the dosage on the bottle because I was so panicked, and he was making a lot of noise when Ron and Harry brought him in. I thought the dosage was 100mg of the potion, but it was actually 10mg," she explains.
"What potion Tonks?" I shout incredulously before I notice a low rumble coming from Malfoy. I see he's covered his face with two pillows before I realise he's laughing.
"It was a pain mangagement potion, Hermione. He's high as a kite right now," she says, covering the smirk on her face. Malfoy laughs harder behind the pillow. Tonks starts to back away towards the door.
"I just want to say I'm sorry. It was an honest mistake," she says, trying to hide her amusement. She motions towards Malfoy in the bed.
"So good luck with that. I'll be in my room if you need me," she says before turning and scurrying out the door, shutting it with a bang behind her. The wind ripples through my oversized t-shirt causing a chill to run up my spine.
"Granger," Malfoy whines loudly to the point where I can almost hear him pouting. I climb up on the bed and try to remove the pillows from his face.
"No!" he argues playfully.
"Malfoy, come on! Stop being difficult," I argue, trying to pull the pillows away from his face.
"Turn off the light. It's too bright," he moans childishly. I groan and jump down from the bed, shutting off the light. I follow the sound of his voice back to the bed again.
"That's better," he sighs, throwing both his arms down on either side of him.
"Malfoy, stop moving so much you're supposed to be resting. Your body needs time to heal," I argue, pulling the blanket around him.
"Heal?" he shouts, and I shush him, trying to cover his mouth.
"I feel great," he mumbles against my hand, wetting the inside of my fingers.
"Of course, you feel great. You can't feel anything," I argue meekly.
"Are you mad at me?" he questions, engaged, his finger bopping me on the nose accusingly. "You sound mad at me," he adds. I put his arms down under the blanket again.
"I'm not mad; just try and relax and get some sleep. I don't want you to re-open any of your wounds, okay?" I say, laying my head down against the pillow.
"Come here then," he asserts, his arms reaching out and pulling me across to his side of the bed where it's warm. He envelops his arms around me and pulls me tight to his chest.
"Malfoy, stop. I don't want to rub off your bandages. You need to heal," I reason, but he buries his face into my neck and sighs loudly against my skin, causing the hairs to rise.
"I'm healing," he murmurs. "I promise I'm healing right now." His words light and sleepy against my neck.
I can't help the heat that starts to build between us. I try to slow my breathing and thoughts, but it's difficult with his hands holding me like this and his lips pressing against my neck. This is bad and particularly idiotic in his condition. He picks up on the heat and tension, and I feel his hand starts to move against me differently. His lips once placed lazily against my neck, are now sucking longingly on my skin.
"Malfoy, please don't," I whisper, but he chuckles against my neck.
"I'm not doing anything," he disputes playfully. "Did you not like it?" he asks. It seems the potion is starting to take full effect now as he's beginning to slur his words. I blush scarlet.
"No, of course, I liked it," I whisper against his hair. This remark spurs him on as I feel his thumb brush against my nipple. This sends a flurry of sparks down into my lower abdomen. His thumb and forefinger squeeze and pinch at my nipple.
"Draco Malfoy, stop it right now!" I warn more sternly this time, trying desperately for my body to stop reacting to every deep exhale he makes against my neck. He huffs loudly into the empty face between my shoulder and his pillow.
"It would be unwise. You don't want me to have to go and get Tonks again because you've passed out and re-opened all your wounds! You need to rest, please," I clarify. He moves onto his side, pulling me towards his chest and resting his arm across my chest.
"It's your fault," he argues, his voice softened by the pillow. I take a deep breath to regain some shred of composure now that his lips are away from my neck again.
"How is it my fault?" I ask, chortling a little.
"Because you're you. You just…. it's just you. You feel so warm, and you smell so much like…." He struggles over his words, and I turn to gaze at him.
"How could I not want to when you're close to me?" he questions, his voice losing some of its slurs while trying to be solemn.
"Well, I mean, you never really wanted to before tonight," I admit, unsure how the statement makes me feel. But he laughs loudly, then getting a good long chuckle out before I have time to cover his mouth with my hands.
"You think I didn't want to fuck you before tonight, Granger?" he asks, leaning up on his elbow. I stare down at the bandage on his bad arm, waiting to see the fresh white turn red with the pressure he's putting on it from leaning up on the bed.
"Malfoy, lie down. Don't put pressure on your arm like that," I say, trying to push him back down. He stops me and grabs my chin, pulling my face towards his.
"Look at me when I ask you a question like that," he says sternly, and I turn my eyes towards his to see their devoid of the humour that was there only moments ago.
"I mean, you never tried before tonight," I respond. He searches my eyes for a moment and shakes his head in a sort of uneasy disbelief.
"Every. Single. Day. I wanted to. Every single time I looked at you. Even before 6th year. Before that stupid fucking award day. Sometimes I would look at you when you were speaking in class. All up your own arse and a know-it-all, and I would sit there and wonder what you tasted like," he says. I cover his mouth with my hands again and fight the heat that rises up in me.
"Malfoy, stop; you're making me blush terribly. I'm sweating," I say, pulling the duvet down slightly to let in some air.
"Don't ever think for a second I didn't want to," he says sternly, holding my chin up again. His eyes scouring deep into mine.
"Okay, I understand. Please lie back down," I ask, and begrudgingly, he agrees, resting his head on the pillow again, no longer putting pressure on his bad arm. I lay my head beside his.
"Why didn't you?" I ask, unsure, wanting to know the answer before the conversation disappears.
"Because I was scared, I guess," he confesses. Perhaps it's the drugs that have allowed him to be so vulnerable. It's not often, or matter of fact, ever that Draco Malfoy admits he's scared.
"Of me?" I ask, doubtful.
"I was scared that if I tried for that before and you weren't ready, you might read my eagerness as pressure and say yes to appease me rather than because you wanted to. Or if you said no, it might not be something you could forgive me for," he presents, and his eyes are open again like the book I used to read back when we were in school. I can see him again.
"So why tonight, then?" I question. But he turns his eyes away, up towards the roof. I grab his chin, mimicking how he pulled my face towards his.
"Answer the question, Malfoy," I warn, and he smirks at me, catching the similarities. But he sighs deeply, his breath blowing the flyaway curls away from my face.
"When we were in the Manor. Potter and I. I heard my father," he starts, his voice growing soft at the end.
"Harry told me," I interject, hoping my knowledge of the events might save him the anger of repeating them. He nods, appreciative.
"When I saw my father doing that to my mother and hearing her scream like that, I thought I could never do that to you. I could never lay a hand on you or hear you scream like that without the sound alone bringing me to my knees. I couldn't comprehend either of their positions. I couldn't understand how he could do that to the woman he supposedly loves or how she could have wanted to go back to that place knowing that that was what was waiting for her once she returned," he explains.
"When I saw you when you opened the door tonight, and you started crying. I thought I only wanted to make you feel good. I just wanted you to feel okay. I want you to know that I would never hurt you like that. I would never touch you if you didn't want me to," he says, taking my hand in his. He pulls it towards his neck, and I wrap my arm around him. He leans forward, finding his familiar spot against my neck, his lips tickling against the skin when he speaks.
"Say stop, and I will always stop Granger. Do you understand me? I would never hurt you like that," he says, squeezing me closer to him. His arms hot around my waist.
"You are my girl, and I will never let anyone hurt you," he whispers, his lips travelling hotly up my neck.
"For the record," I start, mumbling low into his ear.
"It felt perfect."