Chapter 7
The day passed agonisingly slowly for Malfoy. He wasn’t able to push himself much closer to the house, balancing a deep sickness at the state of Arthur Weasley and his need to stay close to Hermione for the sake of her safety. He disillusioned himself a few minutes after Ginny disappeared into the house, not wanting anyone to look out of the window and see him. He didn’t want to cause further pain, despite what people may believe about him.
Draco Malfoy had a lot of time to reflect on himself in Azkaban prison. 18 months of nothing but pure reflection time. 18 months of reflection time punctuated only by the howls, screams and wails of other Death Eaters. After the first 6 months, he felt himself slowly slipping into the madness that his block mates had already succumbed to. Malfoy didn’t want to go insane, leaving only a legacy of pain and suffering behind. He had done terrible things. There was no escaping it.
After he failed to murder Albus Dumbledore, the Dark Lord did not let him fail again. Malfoy had killed people under the close supervision of the Dark Lord, and when he had tried to resist, the Dark Lord had turned his wand to Malfoy and held him under the cruciatus curse for minutes at a time. Knowing he killed to save his own life was no consolation, nor was the knowledge that he had killed to save his mother’s life. Her screams still echoed in his brain.
But sat in that damp cell, Malfoy knew he couldn’t let that be all he was. A murderer. A Death Eater. Upon his release, he attended his Muggle Studies diligently. He worked with the Ministry upon their request to help track down dark artefacts and helped devise ways of destroying them. When they offered him a permanent position, he knew part of the reason for the offer was to continue keeping a close eye on him after the cessation of his probation. But he did not care. He knew it was a second chance.
Malfoy knew he wasn’t perfect. He knew he was arrogant, grating and generally irritating. He was rude. He was cold. He couldn’t open up, found it hard to face the realities of who he was and who the world saw him to be. That didn’t mean he didn’t feel guilt, though. Guilt, pain and anguish.
And so he sat there. Disillusioned. Trying not to think about the pain he caused and the pain his father caused. He couldn’t even read the books he brought because they had been disillusioned alongside his person.
The sun was sinking below the horizon when Hermione finally emerged from the house, eyes flittering about as if searching from something. Malfoy cancelled his disillusionment without a sound and turned towards the witch.
Hermione shrieked in shock and wordlessly cast a defensive charm in his direction before he could blink.
“Jesus, Granger!” Draco cursed, barely deflecting the spell and feeling it zip past his hair. She responded with a choked gasp, one hand on her chest.
“Fucking Christ, Malfoy! What is wrong with you! You tell me my life is in danger and then you pop out of nowhere!” Malfoy snorts in response.
“You’ve got quite the reflexes there. Not half bad.”
“I told you when you were assigned to me that I am a rather adequate duellist.” Hermione pursed her lips in annoyance and stowed her wand in her jacket. Malfoy only rolled his eyes and gestured vaguely in the direction they had come from that morning.
“Are we leaving then?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Okay. We’ll walk out of the wards, and I’ll apparate us back to the estate. Tilly will be anxiously waiting with a banquet good for 50, I’m sure.” Hermione hummed in response, clearly lost in thought as they wandered towards the edge of the wards. Questions teased the tip of Malfoy’s tongue but he dared not ask. Hermione remained quiet, continuing to reflect on her day as they arrived at the manor. Tilly raced out with a wide smile.
“Master Draco! Miss Hermione Granger! You’re here! Dinner is ready for you, yes it is! It is in the small dining hall. Tilly felt Master Draco would prefer it in there. Mistress Narcissa always-”
“That will be fine, Tilly. I am sure you and Puddy have worked hard. Thank you.” Malfoy cut off the elf not unkindly the second he registered the name of his mother. Tilly flushed hotly as though she had committed a terrible transgression.
“Of course, Master Draco. Tilly won’t hover. Tilly will leave you to enjoy. Puddy will send the food when you are settled. Tilly is just so happy to be seeing you.” The elf quickly vanished with a pop. Malfoy sighed into the quiet of the foyer and gestured with one hand ahead of himself, gently rubbing his forehead with the other.
“Straight ahead, Granger. I’ll freshen up. I won’t be a moment.” Malfoy then promptly hurried himself down the corridor to the East Wing, where Hermione supposed he must also be staying.
Standing alone gave Hermione a chance to look around the manor in a way she hadn’t earlier. The walls were a light, creamy beige with white crown moulding and edging. No portraits adorned the walls, but instead the corridors were peppered with a few stone busts. Hermione forced herself not to look at the names. She didn’t want to risk knowing a name.
She found the small dining hall relatively easily and found it downright cosy. In an expensive, regal way. A solid oak table was set for 2 in the middle of the room, but would probably barely seat 6 fully set. The walls were light green and landscape paintings of the countryside took centre stage on a type of feature wall in the room. Hermione looked closer at a few of the paintings and noticed small gold plaques adorning the frames detailing the location of the landscape. The area names were familiar, but Hermione didn’t know any of them too well. She found herself drawn in by the calm nature of the paintings, noting how skilled the artist was to capture such tranquillity without magic.
“Lovely, aren’t they?” The voice of Draco Malfoy cut across the small room. Hermione turned around to meet his eye, smiling in agreement. “My mother painted them, actually.” Shock registered on Hermione’s face, but she quickly arranged her features in a more polite manner.
“These paintings are nothing short of exceptional. I didn’t know your mother was an artist.” Malfoy smiled sadly, gaze fixed firmly on the painting.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about her, Granger. A lot that many people don’t know.” Hermione nodded carefully, taking a seat across from Malfoy as the table suddenly burst with mouth-watering food. Hermione saw that sad smile and didn’t want to push things too far with her questions. “I suppose that’s our cue to tuck in!” Malfoy expertly cut through the sombre atmosphere and started serving himself from a range of silver-plated dishes.
“Did you get much reading done today?” Hermione queried after a few minutes of comfortable silence, punctuated only by comments on the incredible food they were both being treated to. And with that, Hermione successfully killed the mood. Again. Draco shook his head and did not meet Hermione’s eye as he replied.
“I disillusioned myself. I didn’t want… I didn’t want anyone to look out of the window and grow distressed by my presence.” Hermione faltered, her fork slipping out of her hand and clattering loudly on her plate. Malfoy kept this side to him well hidden. The fact that he did care about people. Not everyone, of course. But some people. Some people he did care about and did make an effort to be thoughtful for. How he decided who those people were, Hermione had no idea.
“That was… a logical action to take.” Hermione replied in what she hoped was a tactful way. “I’m sure it was appreciated.” She chose her words carefully, so as not to push it. She had tried once to compliment Malfoy directly, the night after they spoke about her research. It hadn’t done much other than cause him to sneer cruelly at her, tell her it wasn’t that serious and that he was sick of seeing her mope.
The venom was there in his voice that night, but Hermione started to see through him right then and there. She saw the act, the one carefully constructed to keep people at a safe distance.
In true Malfoy fashion, he grunted uncouthly at her comment.
“Anyway, I can charm your books to remain readable to you when under the disillusionment charm. It’ll only take me a few minutes. I can do it the morning and teach you the charm for the future. I’m due at the Weasley’s tomorrow a little before lunch. Molly has a big spread planned, but I might ask Puddy to prepare a few snacks just in case.” Malfoy did not comment on that. Hermione was always very conscious not to eat too much at the Weasley’s. Their finances had been tight before the war and now Arthur could no longer work. Charlie sent money each month, but Hermione knew it couldn’t be enough. She didn’t want to become a strain on their purse strings, knowing Molly already budgeted closely and overused duplication charms as much as she reasonably could.
They continued to eat in comfortable silence.
Tilly appeared shortly after they cleared the last dish with an anxious expression.
“Did Miss Hermione Granger like it? Tilly did not know what to tell Puddy to cook for Miss Hermione Granger because Tilly does not know Miss Hermione Granger’s favourite, but Tilly hopes Puddy’s cooking was good!” The small elf wrung her hands on her dress as she had earlier.
“It was excellent, Tilly. Please do pass my thanks to Puddy. I haven’t had such an excellent meal in years. Do you think Puddy might be able to prepare me a few sandwiches for tomorrow? I don’t want to put him out, so if he hasn't the time it’s not a problem. I’m just sure anything Puddy could whip up would be a thousand times better than anything I could ever make!” Tilly’s eyes brimmed with tears that spilled over daintily as she grasped Hermione’s hands with fervour.
“Such kind words from such a kind witch! You must visit more often, Miss Hermione Granger. You must make Master Draco bring you. Tilly so enjoys having wonderful guests.” She fawned. “Puddy will make Miss Hermione Granger sandwiches, oh yes he will! He will make her as many sandwiches as she wants!” Tilly continued to fawn over Malfoy and Hermione until the pair turned in for the night.
After reminding Malfoy that she would come to show him the charms she mentioned in the morning, she climbed into a shower much more luxurious than she was used to, in a bathroom attached to a bedroom much more luxurious than she was used to. Once clean and sufficiently tired, she then tucked herself into a bed far more luxurious than she was used to.
A hot cup of tea appeared on her nightstand while she showered, prepared perfectly to her preferences. Hermione silently marvelled at Tilly’s hospitality while drinking, wondering how she had known how she liked her tea. She took it alongside the book she had brought to entertain her evenings.
It was almost like a holiday. Which was odd, considering she was at a manor owned by the Malfoys.
Sleep came to Hermione quickly and enveloped her in its hold.
Although it did not keep her in its warm embrace for more than a few hours.
A nightmare took hold, disrupting her peace. Hermione watched as Death Eaters mowed down her friends in the corridors. She watched Neville Longbottom thrown through the door to the Transfiguration classroom, his flesh peeling from his arms as a flaying curse hit him. She prayed he knew the anti-curse. She saw Luna Lovegood taken down by a powerful confringo that surely shattered her ribs. Lee Jordan was hit by the furnunculus curse, huge boils bubbling out of his skin and bursting open in seconds.
She could only run, run, run from the smell of burning flesh. She could not outrun it. She could not outrun the dying screams of children – children – as she raced to find him. She had to find him, she could not stop to help because she had to get to him and-
Oh, God. It’s Lavender. Hermione skidded to a halt, bile in her throat as she took in the terrible sight before her. Her blood pooled and congealed beneath her corpse and Hermione could see her ribs, but they were cracked open and there were pieces hanging out that should not have been hanging out and her throat was torn to shreds and she was so young, younger by Hermione than a few months and they were never friends but she didn’t deserve-
Greyback turned from the corpse that used to be Lavender and lunged. He was on her. His teeth snapped at her skin and his claws ripped her shirt to shred and tore up the skin underneath. Warm blood flowed out of open wounds but Hermione wasn’t screaming in pain. She was screaming in anger, in rage, shouting and hollering as she threw curse after curse and she might have been crying, she didn’t know, but the curses came to her as quick as she threw them and she pulled her wand back for the final blow and-
“No!” She screamed into the silent night, sitting bolt upright in a bed she didn’t recognise in an unfamiliar room. Then the door crashed open and she fumbled for her wand in terror but it was dark and she couldn’t find the nightstand and-
“Fuck! Granger! Are you okay?” Then it all came crashing into place. Hermione knew where she was. She was in one of Draco Malfoy’s guest rooms on his estate somewhere in Devon. She was visiting the Weasley family for the summer. The war had ended 5 years ago and Fenrir Greyback was dead. She had killed him.
“I-I’m sorry.” She stuttered, using one clammy palm to push her bush of curls back. They had knotted together in the midst of her nightmare and were well on their way to matting. “I’m sorry. I’m okay. Just- I just-”
“You get them, too?” Malfoy asked, steadying his breath as he leaned one hand against the door frame. Hermione voice caught in her throat as she looked at him properly for the first time without his nightmare blinding her. He stood barefoot in her doorway, wearing just a pair of black jogging bottoms. She tried not to observe too closely, but even she could admit that he had grown into a very attractive man. All tall and dishevelled from sleep, hair unkempt and mussed, shoulders in all their broad glory, a toned chest and downright massive arms. It was indecent and she forced herself to nod in response to his question. “Yeah. I’ve had them since sixth year. I never did manage to shake then.” She felt ashamed of her reaction in the face of Malfoy admitting something so personal and vulnerable. She forced herself to take a shuddering breath and pushed those thoughts out of her mind.
“Since fifth year for me. We had a- a skirmish, I guess. At the Department of Mysteries, funnily enough.” She smiled emptily, without laughing. “That’s when they started for me. They never stopped. They only got worse.” A cold shiver rattled through Hermione’s body despite the warm summer air in the bedroom. The fear in her nightmare was real because the memory was real. It was just reliving her own horrors. Her brain forced her to relive them most nights. She watched her friends die. She felt her body torn apart in slow motion. She felt the word ‘mudblood’ carved into her arm.
“Do you-” Malfoy cut himself off with a sigh. “Do you want to go back to sleep?” Hermione shook her head, rustling her curls again.
“Probably not. I’ll only have another. I’m sorry to have woken you. I have silencing charms at Hogwarts, I never wanted anyone to overhear.”
“Don’t be stupid.” He muttered, barely audible. “Do you want tea?” Hermione considered this, turning the idea over in her head. She had two options. She could send Malfoy back to bed and continue to torture herself with her own memories, or she could get up and try her best to put it behind her. When it was put like that, it suddenly became easier.
“Sure, why not.” Hermione swung her legs out of the bed and tugged a jumper over her pyjamas.
“I’ll go get dressed.” Malfoy smiled wryly. “I’ll meet you in the tearoom.”
Hermione wracked her brain slightly, still foggy from sleep, to recall Tilly’s tour of the manor. She found herself in the tearoom after only two wrong turns. A full tea set under a stasis charm was in the centre of the room and Hermione quickly made herself busy pouring the hot water over the tea bags. She prepared hers with milk and sugar, adding no milk and a teaspoon of honey to Malfoy’s cup.
He joined her within a few short minutes, still dressed in clearly muggle clothing. Hermione gave him a gentle smile and handed him his cup, sitting back with her own and tucking her legs up underneath her.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Malfoy offered kindly, settling into his own chair and silently wondered to himself at what point Hermione had memorised how he took his tea. Then had to remind himself that he had also memorised how she took hers. Hermione vaguely shrugged at this and took a small sip of her tea.
“I used to. I used to talk to my healer all the time, and Harry too. It didn’t change anything. They never went away. Eventually, I just stopped talking about it. People have their own burdens to worry about without me adding to it.” Malfoy frowned at this and was about to rebut her before realising he acted the same way.
“I don’t even remember the last time I opened up to someone about my life. Not even just since the war. Ever, really.”
“You were always expected to be the perfect Malfoy heir. I wouldn’t suppose you ever had room for feelings.”
“That’s true.” Malfoy paused after a dry chuckle. “Sometimes, I think I wish I was able to confide in someone. The way you have Harry. Even if you choose not to, you could if you wanted to. I can’t even pretend to know what that feels like.”
“I guess so.”
Silence lapsed, and the pair sipped their tea as the sun crept up over the following hour. Warm sun shone through the eastern window and cast a golden glow. It kissed Hermione’s hair, casting a light glow around her chocolate curls. The same sun cast a soft glow around Malfoy’s platinum hair, giving the illusion of a halo of gold.
“My nightmare was about the Battle of Hogwarts.” Hermione forced her voice to remain nonchalant. Malfoy slowly turned his head, but she did not meet his eye. She poured herself another cup of tea.
Malfoy said nothing, not wanting to ruin the moment.
Minutes passed and he was sure that she had reached the limit of her sharing. That was okay. If it helped her feel better, she could share as much or as little as she pleased.
“You’ll remember my… outburst… the day you arrived at Hogwarts. I killed Fenrir Greyback.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“You did.” Her companion murmured. “The world thanks you all the more for it.”
“I’m sure they do. He was vile. A real blight on the planet. But that doesn’t change how it went down. What I saw. What he- what he did to Lavender.” Her voice broke slightly then as tears brimmed in her eyes. “She was a girl. The same as me. I hated her, you know?” Hermione chuckled without humour. “I wished her dead a thousand times in sixth year because she kissed Ron! But seeing her there, the aftermath that creature left, I couldn’t take it. I know logically that wishing someone dead doesn’t mean anything but fuck, I felt so guilty. Everything else just seemed so insignificant.” She paused for a long while, neither one moving. “Then Greyback tried to kill me.”
Malfoy closed his eyes at this, knowing firsthand what that brute could do. He had seen. He knew.
“I never used dark magic before that. I never have since.”
Malfoy raised his eyebrows at this, never having expected dark magic to be something Hermione even knew how to do.
“It just came out. I didn’t even think. But his teeth were at my neck and I couldn’t let him do that to me so I-” She released a shaky breath. “That’s what my nightmare was. It often is. I threw curse after curse until he stopped moving. Then I threw a few more, just to be safe.”
Silence fell again at Devon Manor.
“Some of mine are about Azkaban.” Malfoy was the one to speak next, shuddering at the memory his own words brought about. “But most of them… most of them are about my mother.” He paused, unsure if he would be able to continue. “The things that happened to her. What that… fucked up undead freak did to her. What he had others do to her.”
“I’m sorry.” Hermione whispered. Malfoy chuckled dryly, not unkindly but devoid of any humour.
“Well, it wasn’t you, was it?” She sipped at her tea and looked out of the window. From where she sat, she could see over the wide grounds. Perfectly manicured. Perfectly cared for. “She was never the same.”
“Are any of us?”
“No. I guess we aren’t.”
Neither spoke again for a very long while.
Tilly came in once the sun was fully up, past 8am when the tea was long gone and they had settled into simply being in one another’s presence. She fussed over Draco and scolded him for the bags under his eyes. She checked that Hermione had liked the room and insisted on serving them breakfast in the tearoom rather than allowing them to move to the dining room again. Within seconds, a full spread of pastries and hot food appeared and they tucked in happily. Sitting serenely in the tearoom had calmed Hermione’s stomach and she ate her fill.
It was getting towards half past 9 when they finally left the tearoom. They headed back to their rooms to freshen up for the day. Once Hermione had detangled her curls once and for all, she intended to start pencilling in some practical research trials and off-site trips to gather ingredients for when they returned to Hogwarts.
As they reached their rooms, a few doors down from each other, Hermione paused.
“Thank you, Draco.” She offered with a tentative smile, feeling his name on her lips. He returned her smile and it transformed his face. He looked kind, approachable, caring. He pushed his door open and disappeared into his room without another word.