The Flames
Hermione was stressed.
She spent her entire weekend cleaning her flat and trying to erase any thought of Malfoy with his stupid smirk from her mind. Every time she stopped moving his eyes were all he could think about. His hands on her. Every thought she had turned back to him and what it would be like to feel his hands roaming elsewhere.
So, as she did, she made a list of every reason why Draco Malfoy was a total cunt. Starting off strong with the fact that he was a death eater. Not to mention he was a blood purist or the fact that he had thrown the word mudblood in her face every chance he could. There was something different about him though, like he had grown and changed, not that much, but enough that it seemed like his priorities had shifted somehow. Not to mention he was handsome. She had always noticed, he wasn’t known as the Slytherin Sex God for nothing, his face had always been strikingly attractive. But now, it was like all the time he had spent out of the country had been spent working out. His shoulders were broader, his arms larger, he was just built more.
Regardless of the list, Malfoy still haunted her dreams until she tossed and turned, tangled in her sheets waking up in a sweat.
By the time Monday rolled around, Hermione was a mess. She barely slept, her arm was more irritated than ever, she was late to work, and she spilled her coffee on her blouse.
Striding past her secretary Louise, she walked into her office ready to dive into whatever paperwork would distract her from Malfoy. Only to find the object of her distractions sitting behind her desk, perusing through her files.
“Malfoy,” Hermione stopped short, “What are you doing here?”
He smirked looking up from her file, “I thought I would stop by with coffee and see if you had seen the Daily Prophet,”
Hermione glanced across her desk, seeing the coffee in a to-go cup and a copy of the Daily Prophet, “Is that all, Malfoy? I’ve got quite a bit of work to do and I’m already running late,”
His grin widened, “Very well, Granger, I’ll be back with lunch at one,” He dropped his feet from where they were propped on her desk, standing and buttoning his suit jacket.
“What made you think that was an invitation to visit?” Hermione straightened up to her full height, refusing to back down when he stepped to tower over her.
“I don’t seem to recall you telling me not to either,”
She glared at him, stubbornly silent to the end.
He chuckled, his hand coming up to stroke down her cheek, “That’s what I thought. I’ll be back at one,”
She watched as he strode out of her office and down to the elevator like he owned the place. She slammed the door behind him, collapsing into her chair with a groan. Dropping her messenger bag down next to her, she sent up a silent prayer of thanks that she had thought to take home most of her ongoing files, even if she hadn’t been able to get a lick of work done that weekend.
She leaned her head back, running her hands through her hair. She’d spent the entire weekend trying to get him off her mind and showing up to him in her office was like cold water to the face, definitely not needed first thing on a Monday morning. She dug through her bag, pulling out her files to start assessing what was the highest priority when her eyes fell on the copy of the Daily Prophet. She had stopped her subscription to the paper when everything hit the fan with Ron, no longer in the mood to see her name smeared on the front page as Rita Skeeter loved to do so much.
Curiosity overcame her, pulling it up to read with a frustrated flick, only to see a picture of herself and Malfoy plastered onto the front page. They swayed back and forth with her back pressed to his front while he whispered in her ear. Her eyes looked dazed and the smallest smile graced her lips while he spoke to her.
GOLDEN GIRL HAS SET HER SIGHTS ON NEW HEART TO BREAK, the headline shouted, Rita Skeeter continuing on her smear campaign. Hermione Granger was spotted dancing with the elusive Draco Malfoy, who already seems besotted by the witch. It seems Granger’s newfound fame has finally gone to her head while she pursues the most eligible, not to mention wealthiest, bachelor of our age. Draco commented to reassure us that “[He} is very much the one in pursuit during their formal courting”, however with this black widow, one can never be too sure. Only time will tell if, as Draco plans, we’ll hear wedding bells by Christmas, or if he will become another victim of the ice-queen’s callous nature.
Hermione could have screamed in frustration Rita Skeeter never gave up an opportunity to portray her as the callous and cutthroat bitch that she wanted everyone to see. Crumbling the paper into a wad and throwing it into the air, Hermione whipped up her wand, “Incendio,”
The paper burst into flames, burning out as its ashes drifted around her office. She would kill to march over to the horrible worm’s office right now and do the same to the vindictive writer. Hermione threw herself back in her chair, covering up her eyes and pressing them into her forehead until she could look around the room without seeing red. First Malfoy, and now seeing the headlines, she was ready to kill someone.
Throwing out her files onto her desk, she resolved herself to focus, backing out her chair, she poked her head out of her office door, “Louise, in the future, please don’t allow anyone into my office without me here,” She did her best to sound not-frustrated, but it didn’t seem to work as Louise went pale and nodded silently, “And I don’t want to be disturbed for the rest of the day,”
Draco walked onto the property he refused to set foot on for years. Taking a deep drag from his dart, he smashed it into the lawn, bracing himself for what he would find inside.
In theory, since the wards were up and the manor was locked up, it shouldn’t have changed at all. That was what he was worried about.
The very idea of setting foot in that drawing room again sent shivers down his spine. The memory of feeling so helpless, the fear infused into his very bones, while he watched the woman he wanted more than anything tortured on his drawing room floor. He felt sick to his stomach climbing the steps to the formal front door.
The wards echoed while he walked through, a familiar touch of magic as he entered. Cracking open the door a burst of dust fell from the door frame revealing the covered furniture in the foyer. Sunlight filtered in through the window shades lighting the room just enough to see all the dust gathered on top of the sheet-covered furniture.
Taking a deep breath, Draco entered the space, spinning to view the entirety of his childhood home. It took years for him to feel brave enough to even come back here. Now that he was in the space, it truthfully wasn’t as bad as he had anticipated. The house still had happy memories for him, the memory of his mother serving him breakfast as a child and his dad teaching him how to ride a broom. His first practice broom given to him at Christmas, he’d tormented the elves and his mother, flying the damn thing around the house. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that was exactly what he wanted, exactly what he was working towards.
Every deal he made, every potion he brewed, every damn spreadsheet he reviewed, and investment he made, he wanted his family back and thriving. And he wanted a family of his own, with the one woman who haunted his every thought and dream.
When his father told him about meeting his mother for the first time, the entire scenario seemed farfetched and like it was some fantasy. When they were twenty five, his mother was engaged to someone else only to meet his father at her engagement party. As his father tells the story, he turned on every charm he had and pulled out all the stops until she broke off her engagement and married him instead. Now supposedly he was born early at nearly ten pounds, but he knew that his father had pulled the same trick he was planning on.
His father knew at once that she was the person he was meant to be with, like his entire world narrowed down only to her and what would make her happy and safe and by his side. Even today, he knew that his father’s only purpose was to make his mother happy, even if he felt like he had failed her in every respect. He pushed himself to recover faster because it would make her happy.
Draco didn’t understand any of it, not until he saw Granger looking at the floor fighting back tears while they watched her memory of being tortured by his aunt. He was ready to jump through the bars and break the chains of his cage when he saw her nearly breaking down. He would have happily burned the entire Wizengamot with them inside for making her air her memories of that night, hell he still wanted to.
He ran a hand over his tired eyes, but for the first time in a long time, his chest felt lighter, like he was on the right path. The manor was intact, and with some luck, the heirlooms that were here were still where they were supposed to be. The most valuable were in the Malfoy family vault, of course, but the rest of them were locked up here.
“Moppy,” He projected his voice throughout the house, with a snap the house elf appeared next to him.
“Master Draco! Moppy is so happy to see you home again!” the small elf’s bright pink dress swirled around her as she ran up to greet him, taking his hands in hers. His mother had taken it upon herself to free all their elves and begin paying them wages to watch the manor while they continued to live in France. All the elves chose to stay, most of them not even using the wages they were given, but they kept up with the house, sending updates whenever necessary.
“Moppy, it’s good to see you too,” Draco squeezed her hands.
“Are Master Lucius and Narcissa coming too?”
“Not yet, Moppy, but that is the hope,” He smiled, “We’ve neglected the manor for too long, it’s time we start renovating, and making this a place we want to live again,”
Moppy nearly started crying, “The masters are coming back?”
Draco nodded, “I’ve begun a courtship, I’m hoping that we can have the manor ready within a few weeks,”
“This is wonderful news Master Draco, Moppy will gather everyone and begin at once,” with a wave of her hand the sheets began rising off the furniture and disappearing in place, only for dusters to appear to begin the cleaning.
Draco smiled as Moppy began her work, “I appreciate that Moppy, whenever you're available, I would appreciate someone taking stock of the artefacts throughout the house, I need to know if anything was stolen,”
Moppy nodded quickly, “Binkey, has a running report of all the magical artefacts throughout the house along with all the precious heirloom items, magical or not, Moppy will have her bring them to you immediately,”
“Good, I’m going to walk through today and take stock of everything that needs to be done,” Draco nodded, giving her hand one last squeeze before turning to the rest of the manor.
Moppy looked back at him, tears running down her face, “Master Draco, Moppy is so happy masters are back,”
He smiled down at her, “Me too, Moppy, I’m ready to make the manor a home again,”
Draco made his way down the hallway, a true smile on his face as he began to allow himself to dream for the first time in a long time. Thoughts of a son running through the halls, another one balanced on the hip of a certain swotty witch while she brewed potions, or her lying in his lap while they read in front of a fire together. Draco was tired of running from his past, it felt good to look toward the future. Opening up the library, the fireplace sat empty but bookshelves lined the walls and stood throughout the room. Visions of Christmas with presents piled around with his father enjoying a scotch while he played with the presents and his mother curled into his father. A smile played his lips until memories of the Dark Lord swept through the room. The dark magic still permeated the air, flowing throughout the room. He could practically see his sweeping black robes while he blew into the room.
Shook his head to get rid of the memories, pulling out a notepad and a quicknotes quill, dictating notes to it that the entire library would need to be renovated to look different. Strolling to the back of the library, he quickly took stock of their rare and cursed tomes, noting that nothing appeared to be missing before moving to the next one.
He continued this way, noting the different rooms that needed to be changed to restore the manor back to a home. He finally pushed open the dining room, flashes of Professor Burbage hanging prone above the table before the flash of greenlight ended his life. His quicknotes quill scribbled rapidly without him even having to dictate it. “Cursebreakers, too,” He nodded at the quill, which gave a little nod before going back to scribbling.
He closed the room again, walking down the hall and facing the door to the drawing room, he grabbed the quill and notepad, putting them away into his jacket pocket. Draco took a deep breath and opened the doors.
There it stood, unchanged from the day when Hermione screamed on the floor. Her blood still stained the carpet under the glass shards and broken chandelier. He paused as his anger overcame him looking at the scene, stopped in time since that day.
Draco truthfully didn’t know what he was going to do as he stepped inside, the dark magic nearly vibrating in the air. Every feeling of hopelessness, every feeling of weakness and despair and anger rose up with every step he took, stopping directly in front of the collapsed chandelier. He spun around the room, there wasn’t one thing in this room he wanted. He wanted to see each and every heirloom tainted by their darkness destroyed. He pulled out a cigarette lighting it quickly, before reaching for his wand.
Casting powerful protective wards around the walls of the room he took one last look around before turning on his heel and striding back to the door.
“Pestis Incendium,” A basilisk flame shot out of his wand, laying waste to the cursed room. The enchanted flames took root while the basilisk ravaged anything still standing. Burning the entire room to ash while the wards protected the rest of the house.
Taking a step back through the threshold of the room, past the wards he had placed, he watched as the fire destroyed what was left of that life, feeling a spark of happiness fill him.
A pop behind him let him know Moppy realized what was happening. She gasped at the flames encompassing the room, “Master Draco,”
He looked down at her, her eyes brimming with tears, “It’s Ok, Moppy, this has been long overdue,”
She nodded, gaze returning to the flames while Draco finished his smoke and tossed it back into the inferno that was the sitting room. Her small hand found his as they watched, giving it a squeeze.