Chapter 2
"Are you dead?" was the question that immediately popped into Hermione's mind as she stared at Draco. She was hoping that he was because if he wasn't, then that meant he had done the one thing that Hermione had prayed he wouldn't.
"Granger," he said again before rushing forward, his arms reaching out for her. Draco cleared the distance between them in three long strides, but instead of his arms wrapping tightly around her waist, they passed through her like thin air.
"I-what's happening? Why can't I touch you?" he asked, panic filling the creases of his forehead.
Hermione's stomach dropped. Remus was right, Draco was desperate enough. He had found the resurrection stone and used it to bring her back. The only thing was, she wasn't actually back. She was still dead and he was still very much alive.
"Draco, you have to send me back," Hermione said calmly.
"What?! No. I just got you back, Granger."
"But you didn't get me back.."
"Yes I did," he argued. "You're standing right in front of me and you look and sound the exact same. The only difference is that I can't-"
"Touch me," she finished.
Draco nodded his head slowly, his eyes cast downward. "Why can't I touch you?" he asked, his voice breaking with each word.
"Because I'm dead, Draco."
It looked as if she had just hit him with a crucio. His usually sharp and piercing eyes were now clouded with a sheen of tears as he choked out, "No." His face was twisted in a grimace of agony and his lips pressed together tightly as he fought to hold back the emotions that Hermione had watched him struggle to survive the past week.
"Y-you're not d-dead," he stammered. "Y-you can't be."
As he continued to shake his head in disbelief and choke out incoherent words, the look of heartbreak etched on his face grew more pronounced. It was as though each short and ragged breath that he drew in was tearing him apart from the inside out, and Hermione's chest ached as she watched Draco crumble under the weight of grief.
Make it stop, she mentally pleaded.
Make it stop.
Make Draco's pain stop.
Please make it stop.
Make it stop.
Make her pain stop.
Why wouldn't the pain stop?
Merlin, make.
It.
Stop.
Standing with him here in the forest was unbearable because all she wanted to do was hold him in her arms. She wanted to comfort him and ease his pain like he had done for her so many times before, but she couldn't. Even though she was technically with him, their circumstances hadn't changed. They were still separated by an unassailable barrier - death - something that no amount of magic could repair. It was a strange dichotomy, the feelings that were coursing through her. On one hand, she was overjoyed to see him again, but on the other hand, it was agonising because she still couldn't touch the world of the living. She couldn't touch him, and it reminded her of what she was missing out on.
Hermione closed her eyes and let out a deep, shaky breath, exhaling all of her anger and hurt. She knew that one of them needed to be strong, and as Draco's sobs echoed through the trees as he fell to his knees and dropped his head into his hands, Hermione knew that it had to be her. Bending down, Hermione clasped her hands together to restrain herself from reaching out for him.
"Draco," she said delicately. "I need you to look at me."
When his eyes met hers, she could see something in him that she hadn't in a long time - hope. It was as if just being in her presence was enough to heal a small piece of him. There was a voice in her head telling her that what she was about to say was a bad idea, but she pushed it away. While it was torture for her to be with him this way, she was willing to set aside her own discomfort if it meant there was a chance at helping Draco.
They might not be able to build the cottage that they had talked about, buy the flat in the Muggle neighbourhood, have kids, grow old together, or even touch. But what they could do was steal a few minutes back and be together for just a little longer.
Hermione could tell him that he wasn't responsible for their deaths.
Hermione could tell him that she had met his parents.
She could tell him that Tonks and Remus were okay.
She could tell him that she was okay.
She could tell him that she loved him.
And, hopefully, she could help him find peace.
That's all she wanted for Draco - peace.
"Let's go home," Hermione whispered.
"Home?" he asked.
"Yes, home."
***
The manor was just as she remembered it; cold, dark, and unwelcoming. There was a moment of hesitation as Hermione stepped through the front door. The memories of her lying on the drawing room floor assaulted her mind but she buried them. She wasn't here to face her demons, she was here to help Draco, even if it meant hurting herself in the process.
"Do you want something to drink?" the question poured out of him before he had time to process it, but once he did, Draco's eyes widened. "Shit, I'm sorry. I forgot that-I didn't mean to-"
"It's okay," she said with a soft and reassuring smile.
"I'm sorry, I'm not thinking straight. This is all just so..." he trailed off.
"Strange?"
"Yeah," he nodded, "and difficult. You're here but at the same time, you're not and I just-" he paused for a moment and took a deep breath in an attempt to compose himself. "I missed you, is all. Gods did I fucking miss you, Granger."
"I missed you too, Draco," she smiled, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. "Can we sit?"
"Of course."
As they made their way over to the couch, Draco slipped off his jacket and placed the resurrection stone on the table.
"I wanted to tell you that I-" she was abruptly cut off when the familiar tug in her chest reappeared and the room around her warped.
In the blink of an eye, Hermione was ripped away from the manor and thrown back into the afterlife. Still disoriented, she stumbled out of her bedroom and down the stairs. The second Hermione descended the last step, Tonks lunged forward and pulled her into a tight embrace.
"Are you okay, Hermione?" she asked.
"I'm fi-"
"Hermione!" Narcissa exclaimed as she rushed forward and following closely behind was Remus.
Before she knew it, Hermione was surrounded and countless questions were being thrown at her. All of her senses were in overdrive. The light creeping in through the windows was too bright, the air too thick, and the voices too loud. She had never felt so small and trapped in her life. The only person who wasn't suffocating her right now was Lucius, who was still staring into the fireplace.
"Are you okay?" Tonks asked again.
"Was the stone in good condition?" Remus questioned.
"How is Draco?" Narcissa added.
"I-I'm fine," Hermione directed at Tonks. "I think," she said to Remus. "Draco is-he's... he's okay," she lied to Narcissa.
Hermione had hoped that her responses would be sufficient and she'd be rewarded with some quiet, or at least some space, but she wasn't. Instead, she was met with even more questions. Tonks was telling her that they watched the whole thing, that they saw her appear in the forest and go back to the manor with Draco. Remus was babbling about something regarding the stone and Narcissa was requesting more information on Draco's state.
She understood that they had questions but the process of being pulled from the afterlife only to then be shortly thrust back into it was not only painful but it was also draining. Hermione just wanted some time to readjust and process what had just happened.
"He's picking it up again," she heard Lucius say and immediately, the tug in her chest returned and she was ripped away.
The second the manor walls solidified around her, Hermione's legs gave out and she dropped to her knees. Draco frantically called out her name and she could hear his footsteps closing in on her.
"No," Hermione choked out as she raised her hand to stop him. "Don't."
"Granger, I-"
"Stop!" she snapped. "I just... need... some quiet."
"Okay," Draco whispered.
She wanted to help him, she wanted to make sure that he would be okay. But, what she didn't expect was the aftermath of jumping back and forth to take a toll on her which was worse than death reincarnate. Hermione hunched over and ran her fingers through her curls. Closing her eyes, she focused on the rise and fall of her chest as she inhaled through her nose and slowly exhaled through her nose. Once her heart rate levelled out to a steady rhythm, she sat up and pushed her hair out of her face. When she opened her eyes, her gaze landed on the small black stone within Draco's grasp. Every muscle in her body tensed and her face twisted in anger.
"Why would you do this?" Hermione asked, her words laced with rage.
"What do you mean?" he replied, his eyes full of innocence.
"Why would you bring me back like this?!"
Draco shook his head. "I didn't..."
"You didn't, what? Tell me, Draco!" she commanded.
"I didn't know how to survive without you!" he blurted out. "Every day I would wake up and remember that you're gone and it killed me! I tried to drown out your voice and blur the memories of us with alcohol and calming draught. But once I was finally able to free myself from the torment that is your absence, I would be haunted by you all over again in my dreams. I couldn't take it anymore!"
"So you thought the next logical step was to use the resurrection stone? Was haunting you in your dreams not good enough? You'd rather have me haunt you in your reality?" Hermione questioned as she got up to her feet.
"I just wanted you back," Draco replied as he followed suit.
"But I'm not back!"
"Yes, you are!"
"No, I'm not!" she shouted. "I'm still dead, Draco, and no amount of magic will change that!"
Draco winced at her words. "Please," he begged. "Please don't say that."
Hermione could see the pain she was inflicting on him with her words but she couldn't stop them from coming out. The back and forth chipped away at her sanity, leaving her mind a mess. One moment she was alone, then she was with him, then she wasn't, and now she was again. It was all too much and she hadn't been given the time needed to process any of it.
She wanted to help Draco, but at what cost?
Was she really willing to suffer in order to do so? And would her being here actually help him move on? Based on his reasoning as to why he went looking for the resurrection stone, Hermione decided the answer was no. Her being here wasn't going to be helpful to either of them. She refused to play into this fantasy of his.
Taking a step forward, Hermione pressed her hand against Draco's cheek, her palm fading into his skin. "If I were really here, you'd be able to feel me right now," she said before pointing to the stone in his hand. "And if I were really here, I wouldn't disappear every time you set that down."
"I'm not ready to say goodbye yet," he admitted, his eyes red and cheeks stained with tears.
"I know," she sighed. "But I need you to be. I need you to let me go, Draco. I can't stay here."
"But what if you can? What if I can figure out a way to keep you here without me having to constantly hold onto the stone?"
Hermione shook her head sympathetically. "You know I want nothing more than a life with you but-"
"Then let me give it to you," he said eagerly. "I know it won't be the same and that there will be restrictions, but let me do this for you. Let me do this for us."
"I don't want tha-"
"I'm going to fix this," Draco said confidently, cutting her off again. "I'm going to bring you back."
"Draco, please listen to me," Hermione begged but it was as if he had gone deaf. She continued to list off reasons as to why it was a bad idea and that it wasn't what she wanted but he wouldn't listen.
"I'm going to put it down which means you'll disappear again, but I'll bring you back as soon as I have everything sorted," Draco stated.
"Don't do this Dra-"
"I love you, Hermione."
As soon as her name fell from his lips, the stone dropped from his hand and Hermione was, once again, pulled away against her own free will.
May 10, 1998 : 140
When Hermione returned yesterday, she was berated with a chorus of questions again, but this time she didn't take the time to answer any of them. Instead, she walked away without saying a word and locked herself in her room. She didn't want to speak to anyone or hear any of their opinions on the situation.
She wanted to be alone. She wanted some peace.
For the first time in her life, Hermione was putting her needs first. And right now, what she needed was time and space to grieve the life that she had been stripped of three times.
May 11, 1998 : 131
grief is a house
where the chairs
have forgotten how to hold us
the mirrors how to reflect us
the walls how to contain us
grief is a house that disappears
each time someone knocks at the door
or rings the bell
a house that blows into the air
at the slightest gust
that buries itself deep in the ground
while everyone is sleeping
grief is a house where no one can protect you
where the younger sister
will grow older than the older one
where the doors
no longer let you in
or out
Jandy Nelson, The Sky Is Everywhere
May 13, 1998 : 129
Hermione still hadn't left her room. For the last three days, she remained curled up in her bed. She didn't have the energy or desire to do anything else. There was a sense of guilt that lingered for not going to check on Draco but it was overpowered by the anger she had toward the situation.
She was frustrated that he hadn't listened to anything she had said, and most of all, she felt betrayed. Hermione was so certain that Remus was wrong when he said that Draco was searching for the resurrection stone. She was so certain that the man she loved would never do something like that. But then, he proved her wrong. Grief proved her wrong.
To Hermione, it felt like he had buried a knife in the back. And now, she was left in a position where she couldn't rid herself of the pain because every day she had people knocking outside her door wanting to give unsolicited advice on how to handle it all.
Narcissa would talk through the door and tell her that it was a gift to be able to be with Draco again and how she'd give anything to be in her position. Remus would offer some sympathetic words but they'd always be followed up by some facts on the magical properties of the stone and how it worked.
Tonks was the only one who visited solely to check on Hermione. Which is why, when she heard the familiar light knock, Hermione dragged herself out of bed and finally answered the door.
"I'm sorry for ignoring you-Mr Malfoy?!" Hermione's breath caught in the back of her throat as she met his uninviting glare.
"You may dismiss the formalities. Especially considering our... situation," Lucius drawled. "May I?" he requested, his hand suspended in the air, waiting for permission to enter the room.
"Er, sure," Hermione replied hesitantly before stepping to the side.
As Lucius stepped through the doorway, Hermione couldn't help but observe the way in which he walked. His movements were so... mechanical and precise. Draco moved with precision too but he was fluid, unlike Lucius whose arms remained glued to his side. Apart from their hair, eye colour, and last name, Draco and Lucius were polar opposites.
"Miss Granger-"
"I thought we were dismissing the formalities?" Hermione questioned.
"I said that you may do so. I spoke nothing of myself," Lucius explained. "As I was saying, I have noticed your absence downstairs the last three days."
"Yes, well I-"
Lucius raised his hand to silence her. "You've mistaken me, Miss Granger, I have no interest nor do I care about your reasoning for isolating yourself."
"What do you care about then?"
"My family."
It took everything in Hermione to not burst into laughter at his response, a fact that Lucius took quick note of.
"Everything I have done was with their best interest in mind," he stated firmly.
"And how exactly does forcing your teenage son to become a Death Eater fall under 'best interest', Lucius?" Hermione challenged.
"The likelihood of the Dark Lord-"
"Voldemort," she corrected. "His name was Voldemort. If you're going to try and justify offering your son up to a psychotic mass murderer, then the least you can do is use his actual name."
"Very well," he replied through gritted teeth. "The likelihood of Voldemort winning the war was high. Securing my son a place in his regime simultaneously secured him a future."
"Secured," Hermione scoffed. "You refer to him becoming a Death Eater so casually like you had booked him some holiday. I also believe you're leaving out a rather big piece."
"Being?"
"The fact that he had to kill people."
"You, of all people, should understand that the price of saving one life often costs another theirs," he countered. "I did what I believed was necessary to ensure that my son would be able to make it past the age of eighteen, to be able to build a life for himself, as did you. Our methods may have been different, but our end goals were the same."
Part of Hermione wanted to scream at him, to curse him out for all of the hell that he put Draco through, but another part of her, a rather annoying one, understood his reasoning. She understood because, he said, their methods were different but their end goals were the same - keep Draco alive.
No. Fuck this guy. He abused his son, she reminded herself.
"What about the scars on his body?" Hermione challenged. "And the knife? You know, the one you cursed to infect the bloodstream to delay the healing process?"
"The cursed blade forced Draco to become resourceful, to not rely on common healing techniques such as dittany. Because of such, if my son was ever wounded and didn't have access to a beaded bag with an endless extension charm full of vials of dittany, he would still be capable of healing himself. As for the scars, those were also a lesson."
Hermione narrowed her eyes as she prepared to argue further, but Lucius took a threatening step forward, causing her breath to hitch.
"I have never claimed to be father of the year, Miss Granger, and I never will. I also do not owe you an explanation of my parenting technique. However, I'm feeling rather generous today, so I will. But you better listen closely because I will not be repeating myself."
Hermione crossed her arms and began tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for him to continue.
"I was hard on Draco because I had high expectations for him," he stated. "Draco is, and always has been, extremely intelligent with a bright future ahead of him. But as I'm sure you know, he's impossibly stubborn. My son thrives on order, and with order comes consequences. I did not punish Draco for failing to befriend the Potter boy, though he might have seen it that way. I punished him for forgetting the manners that my wife and I had taught him. Regarding the scar on his lower abdomen, that was for his piss poor attitude after losing his first quidditch match, not because he had lost. And as for the one along his left side, well, he should have thanked me for that one."
"You're joking, right?"
"Do I come off as the type to joke?" Lucius asked as he quirked a brow.
"Why the fuck would Draco ever thank you for defacing his body like that?" Hermione sneered.
"Such crude language, Miss Granger," he criticised. "The reason why is because if I hadn't, then Voldemort would've done something far worse to him for failing to kill Dumbledore. I do not expect you to agree with my approach but I am also not seeking your validation. All I am saying is that everything that I have done was to strengthen and prepare Draco for life."
"So I'm supposed to believe that abusing your child was done to help him?"
"As I stated previously, I am not seeking your validation."
"Do you want to know what I think?" she asked angrily.
"Not particularly," he drawled.
"I think you're full of shit," she spat out, anger radiating off of her. "I don't think you ever cared about Draco's well-being and you certainly never gave a damn about his happiness."
"And yet, I kept him hidden while he ran off with you and your little friends."
"And I think-wait-you what?"
"Believe it or not, I do pay attention to my son," Lucius stated. "Which means I noticed straight away when he had fallen in love. He had the same stupid look on his face that I did when I first met my wife. Granted, at the time, I was unaware that it was you who he had fallen for. Then you were brought to the manor and all of the pieces fell together."
"Very out of character for you to refrain from forcing him to break up with the mudblood," she mocked.
"If I had thought he'd actually listen to me, I would have, and not because of your lack of purity but because love makes even the smartest of us foolish. The second I saw how he looked at you, I knew he was about to abandon his responsibilities as a Death Eater. I also knew that I could lock him in his room and he'd still find a way to get to you. So, instead, I let him play house with you at that little cottage and kept an eye on him from a distance."
"You... you knew where we were the entire time?"
"What a ridiculous question," Lucius scoffed. "Of course I did. Who do you think led Voldemort astray during his search for him after he disappeared?"
"You're lying!"
"What could I possibly gain from lying? You're an intelligent individual, Miss Granger, think about it. Do you really believe some safe house with a weak ward on it was what really kept you and your little friends hidden? Do you think my wife and I got lucky and managed to stumble upon you and Draco during the battle?"
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed circles on her temples as she attempted to digest the information. The more she thought about it, the more everything Lucius was saying made sense and it was infuriating. She didn't want to believe that deep down, in some messed up way, Lucius had cared for his son and wanted to protect him.
She hadn't forgotten what Lucius had done for him during the battle and if she were being honest, it had made her see him in a different light but only slightly. It didn't change the fact that Draco had been tormented by his father his entire life. It didn't take away the scars that were scattered across his body and it didn't reverse the trauma that Draco lived with.
So, for Hermione to believe for even a second that Lucius had any sort of good intentions when it came to his son... it felt like she was turning her back on Draco.
"I understand that it may take some time for you to process the fact that I actually give a damn about my family, but I'm afraid we don't have the time necessary for you to do so," Lucius stated, interrupting her thoughts.
"What? Why not? Did something happen to Draco? Is he alright?" Hermione's voice grew more frantic with each question.
"He's been working on the resurrection stone and I believe he's close to figuring out a way to make it so that he may keep you with him at all times."
As soon as his words registered in her head, Hermione's heart sank like a heavy stone in her chest. Her eyes widened in disbelief before slowly narrowing as she attempted to fight back the tears. Dropping her head, she focused on the cracks in the floor beneath her feet. Her lip quivered as she struggled to find the words needed to express the storm of emotions swirling inside her.
"I don't want to go back there," her voice barely above a whisper. There was a tremble in her tone as if the words themselves were painful to say.
Hermione struggled to keep her composure, her breaths coming in short and shallow gasps as a wave of devastation and fear washed over her. She wanted to be there for Draco, to help save him from the darkness that he had been drowning in, but this was too much. He couldn't possibly ask this of her. But that was the problem, Draco wasn't asking. Hermione had attempted to tell him that she didn't want to be forced back into a world that she no longer belonged to, but he refused to listen to her.
Just as her legs began to give out, she felt a firm hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she met Lucius's gaze. It was still just as impassive, but within the faint creases of his forehead, there was something that she never thought a man like Lucius would be capable of - empathy.
"My wife is too blinded by her desire to reunite with our son. If he were to conjure her, she wouldn't fight him on the matter, she wouldn't warn him of the dangers. Though, even if she did, I'm almost certain he wouldn't listen. You are the only one who is capable of getting through to him."
"I think you overestimate my influence on Draco, Lucius."
"I'd argue that I underestimate your influence," Lucius admitted. "You're like his own version of a Horcrux. Within you lives a piece of his soul." Removing his hand from her shoulder, his eyes lowered for a moment as he pulled in a shaky breath. "I'm afraid of what will happen to him if he abuses the stone for too long," he said quietly.
When he looked up again, Hermione could see in his eyes the question that his ego refused to let him vocalise. He was asking her for help. Lucius Malfoy, asking Hermione Granger for help. If she wasn't already painfully aware of the fact that she was, Hermione would be asking herself if she were dead because never in a million years did she think a moment like this would occur.
It was at that moment, while she stared into Lucius's pleading eyes, that Hermione was painfully made aware of the fact that she wasn't the only one being affected by this resurrection stone ordeal.
Hermione let out an exhausted and defeated sigh. "I'll do what I can."
Lucius's eyes softened at her response. While he didn't verbally thank her, he did offer a curt nod, which Hermione felt was essentially the same thing when coming from him. He got up from his spot, his back becoming more distant with every step he took. She knew what he was asking of her, and she was willing to give it to him regardless of the consequences. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt alone with her thoughts. The thoughts that had run rampant for far too long, slowly digesting themselves in her consciousness. The lack of verbiage in her brain felt still. It felt quiet. For the first time, she felt at peace.