Hi everyone!
here is the next chapter, please do review this and let me know what you think. I always love reading your reviews it does brighten up my day. Sorry if this took a little longer than usual. Been very busy I will try to get the next chapter out a little quicker :)
as always,
Much Love 3
Chapter Text
Draco's Point of View
I feel her hand pull on my t-shirt. Hard.
"Please," she mouths. She feels so small behind me. The tip of her head barely reaching my shoulder blades as she moves in close behind me. She wants to move ahead of me. To shield me. I can tell by her body language. Incredulous to think she would even try in this situation. I move more firmly in front of her and glare when she persists.
"Come on! We can just escape out the window in the bedroom. It's big enough," she pleas. I glance at her over my shoulder again, keeping my stance facing the door. I want to tell her that someone who comes knocking on this cottage door at 3:30am isn't someone who can be easily misled. This is not a sociable visit, nor do I imagine the back windows aren't already being monitored.
"Go into the bedroom now, Granger. Don't fight me on this," I say, trying to untangle her arm from my t-shirt but she's adamant. Fierce in her grip and she glares at me frighteningly. I wonder is that look of fear allowed around Potter and the Weasel. Does she only allow that honest reaction around me?
A single knock sounds again against the door and she jumps beside me. Her other arm extended with her wand pointed towards the door. She stands defiant but her arm shakes distinctly. How could I have let this happen? Why hadn't the wards let us know that someone was coming? Had they dismantled them without us knowing? How could I have put her in this situation.
"Who knows that we're here?" she asks.
"No one," I reply.
"You told Harry though, right? Maybe it's him or Remus coming to check on us," she inquires.
"I didn't tell anyone Granger."
I manage to unwrap her arm from me and step towards the door. Gladly she stays frozen in place. I take the old, cold handle in my hand.
"Draco," she pleas again, stepping towards me shakily. I stop, pushing her back away from the door, glaring at her heatedly. Hoping she might get the message that this is serious.
"Do not follow me out," I warn, pulling open the door and stepping out onto the doorstep.
My father leans against the old wooden gate with two other henchmen behind him. Yaxley smirks at me. He moves his cane along the path, kicking up some weeds peeking out of the cracks in the slabs.
The image of them standing there doesn't match the lightness in the air. The cool, calming chill of the night air is swept away by their mere presence. The make the open feel enclosed, tense.
"Playing house, are we Draco?" his voice holds that level of superiority that he loves. The one he uses when he knows he's in a position of power. He knows that I couldn't take all three of them down. That's why he brought them. I'm surprised he didn't bring more. I don't respond to his question, but I notice the light reflecting on the ground from the cottage window is disturbed for a moment. I pray Granger isn't at the window. Would she be that stupid in this position?
My fathers' eyes, although old are not uncunning. He shifts to look towards the window, but I step in front of it.
"Come, come now Draco. Play nice," he warns. His tone always so thoughtfully close to menacing. Yaxley towers over him and doesn't take his eyes off me. Perhaps he thinks I'll run. He's wrong. I would never leave her unguarded in that cottage. Especially knowing he's outside.
I think back to Granger's idea about escaping out the back window and when no other men join my father, I feel a fool for not taking it. There clearly hadn't been anyone else around the back of the house doing permitter checks. My father hadn't been worried about that idea it seems. Unfortunately, he is a renowned tracker and Yaxley happens to be one of his best also.
"What is that you want?" I ask, lowering my wand. This is a battle of wits now. One that is to be won with words, not wands.
"I feel as if I have allowed this vacation you've been on to run its course. You've had adequate time. But that time is now up, Draco," he says, his words blending together, sinuously, like a snake slithers. How have men looked to him for guidance throughout the years. How did I?
"And if I wish to extend? Said vacation?" I enquire. Yaxley smirks, shifting forward but my father brings up his cane, pressing it hard against his chest.
"Then my dear friend here will have to take you by force," he explains calmly as if he was telling me a change in weather was due. "Nobody here wants that, Draco. Am I right?"
"I fear he will take me by force regardless," I murmur.
"He's a man not without reason. Play nice and he can manage to as well," my father supplies, stepping forward. His cane back on the ground again scratches loudly against the concrete slab. I give a quick look over my shoulder to the window behind me and the curtain shifts back into place, swaying a little.
"Of course, the question of what happens to those in the house must be asked. You understand, right?" He drawls.
"There's no one in the house," I spit, and my father laughs mockingly.
"Don't belittle your father Draco. Don't make a fool out of me. That hand that hit you often fell too lightly wouldn't you agree?" Yes. The hand that hit me did fall lightly. But it fell often. And always harder on my mother. She always took the brunt force of my father's rage. Perhaps she had even done it so I wouldn't have too.
He bangs his cane down loudly on the ground and the shadows stretch out behind the three of them as the thatch roof engulfs in flames in an instant. Flames seems to soar all over, extending and reaching for the sky. I stare motionless at them.
"Stop!" I roar, moving towards my father but Yaxley steps in front of him. My father bangs his cane again and the light disappears. The night returning all around us. Only the burning smell of Norfolk reed and long straw remaining with a small few ember that threaten as much as his conceited grin.
"If we could settle this civilly and rather promptly, I would gladly leave the house as is," he comments. I know he's talking about Granger and I'm grateful he doesn't use her name.
"In fact, if this could be dealt with right this second and you agreed to come back home then one could say that I would never have any need to visit this house or its contents again. They hold no value to me as long as you're home, son," he summaries.
"Would you, Yaxley?" my father asks him sarcastically.
"Don't particularly like being here even now, sir," he replies.
There in his words, - hidden – holds the suggestion of a promise. If I were to leave now and go back to wherever it is he wants me to go then he would leave Granger alone. For good. He would let her be. Wherever it is she wanted to be. She would be safe. But it's just a suggestion of a promise and my father has never been one to hold his word. He scrutinises my face as I think.
"A man is only as good as his word, Draco. Do I have yours?" he asks, resting his cane against his hip as he extends his hand towards me.
My freedom which has felt as if it was moulded by my own hand had never truly been my own. My father had allowed this time away. This momentary digression as he thought it. My freedom that had felt infinite had had a timer ticking along beside me all this time. Perhaps he had even allowed me to leave that night at Malfoy Manor. That time with Potter and the previous time with Granger. Had I taken his weakness in those moments for granted. My father was brilliant, and cunning to no end. Had he foreseen all of this? Could he see ahead even now to the decision I would make. To the outcome of it all? To my death and Grangers. To even the Weasels death and inevitably Potters.
I had been stupid to come to this cottage again. My father hadn't know it was Blaise's grandparents' place. I assumed they searched it after my mother was found here all those months back. My misjudgement had been in thinking they would write it off as another random house I decided to squat in. It's why I had been so confident coming back here now with Granger. But my father hadn't been fooled for a second. I had been the fool.
I stretch my hand out towards him, clasping his hard. But I shift my hand up his arm, latching around his forearm.
"Are you as good as your word?" I ask, tilting my head towards him. He grabs around my forearm, squeezing tightly. It burns against the jagged skin on my where he had cut the mark out of my arm. He smirks, relishing in the pain. He motions towards Yaxley who steps forward to act as our bonding agent. With his wand he angles it over our entwined arms.
"Make your wishes known, Draco," he demands.
"I will agree to come back with you so long as you never return here. Today or any day forward. I will come back with you as long as you or anyone acting under your guidance agree to never search for her or harm her in any way, shape, or form from this day forward. She is not, nor ever will be a part of this. Can I take your word on that?" I ask. He squeezes my arm tightly again, his nails digging into my skin. I clench my jaw.
"You have my word. But what will you give me in return?" he inquires.
"What you've wanted all along," I say simply. He raises his eyebrows at me. "Your son back," I state. He mulls this over for a brief second before he nods at Yaxley.
"Agreed," he says. Yaxley's wand presses hard into my arm. A thin, sliver of flame erupts from Yaxley's wand as it slowly winds its way around our entwined arms like rope. It seems to seep into my skin and burn right down to the bone. I pull my arm back from his.
"I will get my things," I say, turning on my heel back towards the front door.
"You have five minutes, Draco. Any longer and I'll consider it a breach of our vow and I'll burn this place to ashes," he replies calmly. Five minutes. Three Hundred seconds. That is all the time I have left with her. I can hear the roar of the English Channel somewhere in the distant, hard to tell in the dark. I hear the waves crashing that have moved back and forth for millennia without a care in the world. Unchanging. While everything around it crashes and burns.
I push in the door, feeling it stick and grind against the floor heavily until I notice Granger leaning alongside it, trying to listen. I pull it shut behind me swiftly as she rushes into my arms.
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"Why is your father here?" she weeps, wrapping her arms around my neck. I inhale the smell of her hair and neck for a split second before I pull her arms away and charge down the hallway to the bedroom. She shuffles after me, rigid with panic.
"What the fuck?" the Weasel roars when I kick open the door.
"Get up!" I shout.
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"Malfoy?" he bellows against the intrusion, shielding his eyes from the light. He looks at Grangers terrified face and reaches for his wand under the pillow.
"There's no time for that. Get up!" I shout, grabbing his bag and Granger's bag and throwing them on the bed.
"I need you both to pack your stuff and leave this second!" I talk to Weasel wholly even while Granger pulls desperately on the sleeve of my shirt trying to get my attention. I disregard her. I need Weasel to listen to me now and listen properly.
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He moves to speak but I raise my hand.
"I don't have time Weasel. Get up and listen carefully to me. Get your shit right this second and leave this cottage. Do not apparate directly to your destination. I need you to lose any trace that might be on you. Apparate to a location and walk a bit before apparating again. Do you understand?"
"Yeah, I get it Malfoy. I'm not stupid. What's this about? Hermione why are you crying?" he asks. I glance at her for a second to see her face is beet red and tears hang off her chin, but I turn away.
"I can't go with you," I say and Granger tugs fiercely then, pulling me around to face her.
"Don't ignore me! I'm speaking to you," she wails, trying to shake me into attention. Again, I ignore her. I can't be stupid right now. I need to focus. I grab her bag and throw her clothes into it as quickly as I can. I check under her pillow for her wand, not finding it there I look at her to see she's still shouting obscenities at me and clutching it in her hand. I hand the bag to weasel who's just about finishing zipping up his.
I walk with him down to the kitchen as Granger takes my hand, still trying to shake some sense into me, pulling and dragging painfully for my attention. I know she's screaming at me, and I have to pull the weasels attention away, so he focuses.
"I am going to apparate away from here. I need you to wait a minute or two and then leave. Remember don't go directly to where it is you're going okay?" I reiterate. He nods again, his eyes frantically looking between mine and Grangers.
"What happened, Malfoy?" he asks, worried.
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"I need you to do something else for me," I say, ignoring his question. "When you get back, I need you to tell Harry to send a letter to the same address in France. Address it to Blaise and tell him to explain the situation," I say.
"What situation?" he asks.
"Malfoy! Look at me!" she screams again, tugging on my arm. I pull my arm free from her as her crying grows loud. I clench my teeth.
"My father has come for me. So, you two need to leave this place and never come back, okay?"
"Lucius Malfoy?" he asks, incredulously. He takes out his wand again. I push it back down, shaking my head at him.
"It's useless," I whisper. "I need you to do as I say and take her out of here. Can I trust you with that?" I ask and he scowls at me.
"You know I know how to take care of her too!" he chastises, and I smirk a little.
"Don't talk about me as if I'm not here!" she bellows.
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I turn towards her then. Her face wet and puffy and oh that expression. That beautiful expression. She frowns at me, tears continuing to stream down her face.
"Don't ignore me," she cries. I smile back at her.
"I'm not ignoring you," I say, giving her my full attention. Her eyes dart nervously between me and the Weasel. These are the last few seconds I have with her.
"I don't care whatever was said outside. You're coming with Ron and me," she says, trying to seem defiant but it's lost under all those tears.
"We can still go out the back window," she cries, wiping at her face.
"Come here," I say, pulling her close and using my sleeve to wipe at her eyes. She coughs loudly, another stream of tears wetting my sleeve end.
"We can go," she pleas.
"Sssh," I whisper, wiping at her face again.
"Don't talk down to me. I'm not a child," she cries.
"Where are you going?" the Weasel asks.
"Back to the Manor," I say and Granger gasps, covering her mouth to hide her cry.
"Why?"
"I'm going so my father stays on the other side of that front door. It was me or her Weasel," I say, brushing the hair out of her face. It's stuck against the tears.
"So, you're trying to be a martyr now?"
"No, I'm not a martyr. I couldn't care less what happens to you." He scoffs at this but there's little animosity behind it. An almost genuine moment passes between us.
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"I want to come with you," she whispers.
"Make sure Harry sends that letter to Blaise. Make sure he tells him to stay in France. Tell him not to come. Tell Potter to be adamant in the letter," I tell the Weasel.
"Don't disregard me Draco Malfoy!" Granger shrieks again, pulling on the neckline of my t-shirt. Her force brings me down close to her. I lean down the rest of the way and coax her lips with mine, trying to persuade her away from her panting cries. She softens and eventually her lips follow mine. I can feel Weasel shuffle angerly beside me, but I couldn't give a fuck about that right now.
I kiss her hungrily, needily and difficulty against her panting cries. I grab a fist full of her hair in my hand as I twist her head to the other side so I can deepen the kiss. She moans loudly in my mouth and any other time I would be happy to see that grimaced face on the Weasel. Right now, is not the time for that. All that exists in these final few moments is the warmth of her mouth and the sweet smell of her hair. I break the kiss, but her arms remain tight around my neck. They move frantically now, desperately trying to get a grip.
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"It's time to let go now, Granger," I say, trying to remove her arms from my neck. The lump in my throat is getting dangerously close to welling in my eyes. Her frantic cries and clutching at my hands are not helping that either.
"You don't have to do this! Why are you doing this? I didn't ask you too! Why are you being like this? Just talk to me. We can figure something else out. Anything Malfoy! Don't make this choice," she yells, her hands connecting like a vice grip behind me.
I lean down close to her ear and kiss her ear lobe.
"I'm sorry, Granger," I whisper.
"Don't say you're sorry. I don't want to hear that! Sorry doesn't mean shit to me right now. You can't say all that stuff you just said to me before and then leave."
I look over to the kitchen counter. Less than ten minutes ago I had had her pressed hard against the cabinets. Less than ten minutes ago I would have taken her against that counter if she had let me. I would have ravished her. Before, when we had had sex all those months back, we had made love it had felt like. It had been slow and sensual. But this time, against the counter it wouldn't have been like that. I could feel it growing in both of us. This feral, almost animalistic desire bubbling. We would have fucked, hard and I would have taken her to my bedroom and done anything she asked as long as she said my name in that deep guttural moan like she had before.
"Remember I love you," I whisper and pull back, kissing her gently.
"Ron," I call, stunning him momentarily at my use of his first name. I nod towards Granger, and he picks up the message quickly. Moving over and trying to ply her from around my neck.
"Ronald Weasley, you let me go this second. Don't you dare!" her screams get louder at the end as he manages to tear her arms away from me.
"Tell Potter I'm sorry I broke my promise again," I say to the Weasel who furrows his brow in confusion. I turn to Granger. I can tell the Weasel is going to have to bandage up his hands later. Her nails dig deep into his fingers as she tries to pry them away. Drawing blood but he doesn't wince, just stares at me in confusion.
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I think of Dumbledore standing on top of the astronomy tower and the words he had said to me then. How it had all been a lie. Everything I had seen in the pensive about our lives together. It had felt like the most awful thing at the start when I had first seen it. It had felt like a cruel game that someone was playing with me. Then eventually those images had turned into something I desired more than anything. Something I had even lost when the truth had been revealed and something I had chased even after the fact. I had dreamt of her and the soft silence her presence brought. I had dreamt of her face smiling in that house by the water, on the beach and against the sparkling light reflecting off the water. I had dreamt regardless of what Dumbledore said. I dreamt that she would be a stable in my life at some point. That if I just kept going, inevitably everything would slow down and we could finally be. Our lives would be our own to live. Ungoverned.
I had dreamt it but when your freedom is dictated by another then so are your dreams.
"Remember what I said," I tell her, taking in a final look at her fierce, passionate face.
Maybe not now. But someday, I think.
Even prisoner's dream.
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