Roses are Red
Hermione’s throat was so dry it hurt to swallow. Her eyes blearily opened to a room decorated in deep rich fabrics, a mahogany canopy above her head attached to the bed she was laying in. She turned her head to the side, her body still too tired to follow.
She jolted—the beady eyes of a house elf stared back at her. She was standing by the side of the bed holding a glass of water. “Miss?” Its pale skin adorned with a frilly shirt had her slightly nauseous, reminding her of where she was.
Hermione’s head felt full of lead, was the last thing she remembered Lucius? How could she have been so stupid as to have set foot in the Malfoy Manor? Hermione nodded to the elf, not caring if the water had been poisoned. She gulped down the water as the elf carefully fed her, and then vanished with a crack with the glass.
She couldn’t remember how she ended up here…where was Draco? Hermione gingerly tested out her muscles—they felt as if she had run a marathon. Groaning, she pushed off her arms and sat herself up. The door to her room creaked open and Narcissa Malfoy stood in the doorway carrying a tea tray.
“The house-elf informed me of your waking.” She whispered, walking closer. She set the tray down at the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling Miss Granger?”
“I don’t—?” Her tongue felt like sandpaper against the roof of her mouth and her arms gave out on her.
“We have a few… unwanted guests downstairs. Lucius is doing his best to ensure that they leave soon. There are wards in place so you will be safe here. I will return as soon as I can, as I’m sure you have many questions. We aren’t here to hurt you, Miss Granger. Call for Mippy if you need anything.”
Hermione watched helplessly as Narcissa left the room, her dark skirts sweeping behind her as the door closed.
Hermione blearily looked around the room. She was in a guest room, perhaps. The last thing she remembered was entering the Manor. She groaned as her head spun. Why had she entered the Manor? Her thoughts kept flitting back to Draco.
She could hear a few voices traveling from downstairs. The telltale voice of Lucius Malfoy, tinged with anger. Narcissa’s softer tone beside him, accompanied by a few other men.
Hermione closed her eyes, trying to move her fingers first, which felt so weak she felt as if she had lost all her breath in doing just the small act.
She heard footsteps slowly become louder, someone carefully whispering and inching towards the room. Hermione tried desperately to quiet her breathing. It couldn’t be Narcissa—she had just left.
The doorknob rattled in the room and Hermione was desperately trying to combat her limbs that would not wake. A whisper followed and the knob turned, and in slipped a man dressed in light grey dress robes.
“Perhaps you remember me, Miss Granger.” The tall man with dark hair and dark eyes approached her hungrily. He paused before her for a moment before grabbing one of her ankles.
Hermione let out a garbled shriek as she was tugged towards him, panic beginning to clear her head.
“My name is Selwyn. I met you at the Lovegood’s so, so many years ago.” He pulled her against him, holding her by her hair, almost smelling her, his foul breath against her face. “Delectable then, and delectable now.” He dropped her down onto the bed, cocking his head
Hermione landed back on the bed limply, her legs still barely moving on their own. Her wand was missing, her tongue would barely move; there was no escaping this. “I was told you were a powerful wandless caster. That potion they had you take would never let you cast against your pureblood masters, Miss Granger, is that right?”
Hermione froze. The potion. She had no urge to serve her masters, no loyalty to the man that stood in front of her—whatever had happened in the last day, it must have worn off. Her eyes flitted up to the man’s and she eagerly nodded.
He smiled, satisfied. “Indeed. So, you understand how important it is to serve your masters, Miss Granger?”
Horror filled her as he tore the nightgown she had down from her neckline. Hermione mumbled a no while attempting to turn before she felt his hand around her throat, his hot breath against her face. “What did you fucking say to me, you little slut?” He tugged the top of the nightgown off her shoulders, exposing her upper half.
She felt her chest begin to heave. This couldn’t be happening—she was meant to run for Minister. How had she ended up here? The room began to spin as Hermione focused on trying to catch her breath and she closed her eyes. To no relief, her body still felt as if it was ridden down with lead.
She felt as his hands make his way down her body, and flinched when she felt the spray of something against her face. Opening her eyes, she saw blood pour down Selwyn’s face, his eyes wild. His mouth had been sliced open from ear to ear.
Hermione let out a piercing scream and attempted to scramble away before she saw a familiar face stare back at her, red splattered in his blonde hair and rage written across his face.
Selwyn dropped to the floor with a thunk.
“Draco.” She rasped.
A similar gasp emerged from the doorway. A shocked Narcissa and Lucius stood, both heaving as if they had just run, staring at their son who now pointed his wand at them.
“Someone talk. Right fucking now.” Draco growled.
Lucius pulled his wife behind him.
***
“What happened here? Draco!” Narcissa exclaimed, trying to push her way past Lucius.
“Don’t play dumb with me, mother.” His voice sent shivers down Hermione’s spine.
“Draco.” Lucius said, his deep voice echoing through the room. “This was not meant to happen. We helped the girl—she’s lucid.”
“She can’t get out of fucking bed.” Draco snarled, placing one knee in front of her on the bed, shielding her from his parents.
“The potion she was on—we gave her the antidote. Your mother began brewing once I explained what—how Miss Granger was acting.”
“How did you meet her?”
“In Diagon Ally.”
“That’s a load of—”
“Draco!” Narcissa scolded, pushing Lucius’s arm out of her face. “Look at the girl. She knows who she is, who you are.”
Hermione, clutching her nightgown to her chest could only look up at Draco, her eyes glazed over. Occluding.
“What is this?” Draco asked, his wand now pointed down to the moaning Selwyn on the floor.
“There were… a few members from a blood purity cause. They stopped by the Manor. We could not refuse them without causing suspicion. They know Miss Granger is missing.”
Draco looked his parents dead in the eye, unsure of what to make of the situation. “I’m going to call Theo to get rid of this mess.” He said gesturing to Selwyn.
“You’re going to murder—” Lucius started looking bewildered.
“I’m not about to go to Azkaban. Theo will take him to the Ministry.”
“Her friends will wonder, surely, where the both of you are?” Narcissa asked.
Draco shrugged. “Not my problem.” He scooped Hermione up into his arms. “Let’s get you into a bath, love.” He looked up to his parents. “Get out of my bedroom.” He spat.
***
When Hermione slid out of her occlusion, she realized she was laying in a clawfoot tub, surrounded by heated water and bubbles. There was something warm against her back that she was nuzzling against until she realized it was Draco Malfoy’s lap she was sitting in.
“Draco.” She whispered, unable to turn around and look at his face.
“I’m here.” He whispered back, rubbing conditioner into her hair, starting at her scalp and making his way down her long, tangled hair.
She had nothing to say back. What had almost happened… she gave a shudder. Draco’s hands stopped at her shoulders. “You’ll never be out of my eyesight again.” He whispered to the top of her head. “There will never be anything on this planet that could keep me from you, stop me from finding you. If you want to run, Hermione, we’ll run together. I’ll buy you a cottage in a country that has a shore that overlooks an ocean so deep all we’ll need is the house and sea.”
She closed her eyes.
“The only way out of this… it isn’t by going into your head, into occluding. You need to direct this outwards, Hermione. A powerful witch you are, and imagine how much more powerful you’ll be when you allow yourself to feel your emotions instead of watching them pass. We won’t live in the past anymore.”
“It’s never going to end.” She said hoarsely. “Not for me.”
“It’ll end in a few days, Hermione. At the Ball, we’ll end everything—we’ll put the blood purists away for good. If you want to run now or then, or begin your campaign for Minister, your new life can start here.”
She felt a sob raise in her chest. “They’ll always come for me, because of who I am.”
“And if they do, I’ll always be here in your corner. If I’m not, then think of Harry. Of Ginny and Theo. Blaise and Pansy.”
Hermione turned to look at him, sadness filling her eyes. “Tomorrow. We’ll figure this out tomorrow. Today, I just…let me mourn.”
Draco gave her a small smile. “Anything you want, love.” He began to rinse out the conditioner from her hair as Hermione allowed the tears to fall.
***
The Malfoy Manor had some of the strongest wards surrounding it in the country, paralleled by perhaps the Grimmauld Place, something that had been owned by exclusively the Blacks.
It was why Draco felt comfortable bringing Hermione out into the rose gardens his mother tended to during the day. He laid out a blanket amongst the flower bushes, and Hermione lay sprawled on it, staring up at the night sky.
He played with the white lace hem on her dress, a flowy summer dress he had Mippy pick from his mother’s closet from decades ago. He had brushed out her hair after their bath, and as it dried watched as it regained its volume, curls springing from every direction.
“You’re the most beautiful witch I’ve ever laid my eyes on, you know.” He said softly as her eyes wandered the skies.
Her eyes met his for a moment before returning to their scavenging. “Perhaps.”
He gave a small grin. “I’m glad you agree.”
She gave a small grunt of acknowledgment. “Everything hurts—not physically. I mean, almost physically. From the inside. It feels like something’s been ripped from me.”
“I felt that way when I took the Dark Mark. When I had to torture people I… it was never meant for me. Whatever taint it’s left on me will remain forever.”
“I don’t know how you’re surviving so well then.”
“I’ve had years to get used to it.”
“I’ve had the same amount of time as you, and yet here I am.”
Draco ran a hand through her hair, his fingers still catching on curls despite the amount of brushing he had done. “I was allowed to hide in the Manor for a long time. I didn’t have an obligation to step out into the world after the war.”
“And yet you did.” She said turning to face him.
He nodded. “And I got to meet you. I reunited with Blaise, and Theo, and Pansy. It finally feels like there’s a reason I’m here—I didn’t suffer for almost two decades for nothing. If I could repent for my sins, Hermione it would be by giving you your every wish.”
She was quiet for a moment. “I think… I’d repent by becoming Minister. By helping those that need it.”
Draco smiled. “I’d get extra points for assisting in that. I bet that’s why Theo’s in it too—it’s his one chance to help someone else. We know what you’re capable of, Granger. Despite everything that’s happened, we know what you’re still able to do.”
Hermione looked past him, towards the roses. “Did Theo stop by?”
Draco nodded. “He won’t tell anyone where you are—just that you’re safe.”
“I’m sure Harry’s worried beyond his mind.”
“He knows you’re with me.” Draco said. “I told them I’d send correspondence before the conference.”
“Explains why he hasn’t set half the Manor on fire by now.” She responded. Hermione shook her head. “These are tomorrow's questions. Tell me,” She patted beside her. “Where are you in these stars?”
Draco lay down beside her. He pointed to the big dipper. “Do you see the dragon there, beside the dipper?”
She nuzzled into his shoulder. “I do.”
“The Blacks have always named their children with constellations.”
“Will we name ours with same way?” Hermione murmured against his arm.
Draco looked down at her, Hermione falling asleep against him. His voice was stuck in his throat. Had she thought that far? Merlin, if there was anything he wished for other than to have her for the rest of his life. “If you’d like, Hermione.” He whispered. She was already asleep.
Draco lay there beside her in the warm summer night, the smell of roses wafting with each breeze, until the sun began to rise and the birds of the Manor grounds rose with the light.
Today they would plan their retaliation, and Merlin if Draco wasn’t going to serve it on a silver platter to her.