Chapter Text
March 11, 2014
Draco brought Hermione a cup of tea in the study a few hours after they were out flying. She was still not fond of the activity, but the leisure flying was significantly better than she expected it to be. Still, she didn’t fly far from the ground. Once he settled in a chair across from where she sat on the sofa, she set her book down and boldly spoke up.
“I have an idea for changing the snake.” She gestured to his left arm.
Draco grimaced.
“No.”
“You said you didn’t want it to be a cornerstone of time spent with you,” she pushed back.
Gray eyes narrowed and met hers as his jaw clenched.
“Correct.”
“Well,” she gestured vaguely. “We definitely spend more time together now.”
He was occluding severely and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. His mouth twitched once.
“Why?” He asked. She was slightly taken aback by the question.
“Don’t you hate it?”
His mouth twitched. But he didn’t respond.
She let the silence hang between them for a moment before hinting at her question.
“I thought the mark would fade after he died.”
Draco looked away from her.
“It did some, for a while.”
“Then what?”
His mouth twitched.
“Death eater networks figured out how to use it,” he said flatly.
Hermione felt a wave of sadness, and wished that she was sitting closer to him.
“I want to help,” she said when she couldn’t think of anything more substantial to say.
“Nothing helps, Granger. Let it go,” he said coldly, then disapperated. He hadn’t left her partway through a conversation in weeks, and she was taken aback.
She opened her book and decided to give him some space before going to look for him. His heart rate had picked up a bit, but not alarmingly so.
An hour or so later, Kreacher appeared in front of her with his lip curled.
“Mistress finds master Draco now.”
Hermione startled to her feet.
“What? Is he ok? Where is he?”
“Master Draco steals Kreacher’s brandy he does…”
Great.
“Where?”
“Kreacher must gets three bottles of his muggle brandy after master Draco steals—”
“Where is he, Kreacher?”
The elderly elf itched behind his ear and hissed.
“Greenhouse.”
Hermione disapperated to the courtyard and then ran the rest of the way into the greenhouse, finding him pacing by a table near the hemlock gardens. He was holding the entire bottle of brandy and startled when she walked in. His face was immediately blank as he attempted to occlude, but there were lapses of anger and grief as he struggled to keep it due to draining nearly a third of the bottle already.
“Draco?” She said quietly, and he vanished with a CRACK.
Not this again.
She bounced from room to room in the house until she found him in a spare bedroom upstairs, sitting on the floor leaning his head back against the wall.
“I already told Kreatcher I’d buy him more,” he barked when she landed in front of him.
Hermione nodded and then calmly sat on the floor in front of him.
“What happened?” She asked.
He took another swig of brandy but didn’t answer her.
“I just wanted to help,” she said quietly.
“Even if it's changed, I can feel it,” he said blankly.
She furrowed her brows.
“As in, you can feel the others?”
He bowed his head once in a nod.
“Sometimes.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He shrugged.
Glancing at his left forearm as he drank, she remembered the removal attempt scarring littered around the mark, and the way he recoiled like a wounded animal anytime someone saw it, let alone got anywhere near touching him there. She briefly wondered when he last experienced anything besides violence on that arm.
“Draco?”
“Hm.” He still hadn’t looked up from the spot on the ground he was fixated on.
She moved to his left side and propped herself up against the wall in a similar fashion, and held out her hand.
“Give me your hand.”
He grimaced and didn’t answer.
“I’m not going to try to fix it. Or uncover it. I just want to hold your hand.”
Grey eyes turned her direction and narrowed, his mouth twitched.
“Why?”
“Merlin, stop arguing with me,” she scolded as she reached for his hand herself, pulled it into her lap, and intertwined her fingers into his. His entire body was rigid, the hand in hers no less so, and he looked away from her. She could feel his heart pounding through the ring.
But he didn’t pull away.
Hermione waited several minutes before she took her other hand and gently laid it over the sleeve of his forearm and gently brushed her thumb on his arm. His reaction was immediate as he grimaced and his heart sped up.
“What are you doing?” His breathing became a bit shallow.
She didn’t answer, just leaned her head on his shoulder and continued to sit in silence. It took several minutes for him to relax, but eventually he relented and she felt his head lean on the top of hers. She didn’t know how long they sat there in silence, but when they did go to bed, she made a point to passively touch his left arm through the night.
Hermione compulsively touched his forearm as she slept to reassure him from then on. Something she had previously avoided. She hadn’t realized that she even avoided kind touch through his sleeve since she arrived due to how much he hated talking about it, or having anyone see it. So it became a compulsive need for her to reassure him now, and get him to associate kindness with that part of his body again.
“You hide yours too…” Draco mumbled in a drunken stupor that first night. She flinched. Both of them were known for their exclusively long sleeves.
“I know,” she replied.
March 13, 2014
Hermione flipped through her charms notes again as she sat with Astoria at Ollivander’s after work. She had yet to successfully cast a fidelius charm, which felt more and more important to perfect as the ministry had made more hostile moves like posting aurors at Gringotts.
Astoria meanwhile was practically manic with energy. Apparently yesterday she and Gorm had successfully bonded a heartstring with no trace.
“How many more heartstrings could Charlie get us?” She asked, snapping Hermione from her thoughts.
“He’s working on getting a few more. But since heartstrings are so valuable and regulated, it’s not like there are extras just laying around for him.”
Hermione was also brewing batches of polyjuice as well to make sure that she and Harry weren’t spotted again, and kicked herself for not thinking of it last time.
Astoria scowled.
“Smuggling dragons is easier than heartstrings.”
“But they take years to mature.”
Hermione bit her lip.
“Any way to get old wands and strip the core?” She asked.
Astoria shook her head.
“All wand sales are reported to the ministry.”
The bell rang and they both turned to see Percy step in. He and Astoria exchanged a look just before he winked, causing her to flush a deep shade of pink. Hermione smiled at the sweet exchange, but otherwise pretended not to notice.
“Both of you need to work elsewhere going forward. Keep this place social only,” he said firmly after the flirtatious exchange.
“What happened?” Hermione asked.
“Well, for one, they’ve gone too long without auditing Ollivander’s. But also, people have noticed that the two of you are friends, and you managed to make a few enemies at the ministry with your Gringotts case.” He turned to Hermione as his jaw tightened. “Lawrence in particular has been more verbal than normal about his distaste for you, and the theoretical threat you pose to the rest of us.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Astoria countered. “Besides, none of those nitwits would even be able to read what I’m working on,” she said with a wave of her hand.
Percy’s jaw clenched again.
“It’s not worth it. I’d rather you both work either at Gringotts or at the manor at this point. Draco has more wards set up there.”
“Are you seriously suggesting I can’t even work at home?” She snapped.
“I’m not suggesting. I’m flat out telling you both. Put it away. Actually, speaking of the manor, I’m suspicious that some of the attacks sent there lately have been funded by someone at the ministry under the table. But I haven’t figured out who yet.”
Hermione’s stomach turned.
“Why?”
“Not sure. Part of why I haven’t been able to narrow it down yet. They weren’t able to find a loophole to seize the manor’s assets. So, it could be to get rid of Draco not knowing that Teddy will inherit the whole thing. Could be because some people think you’ve gotten too close with goblins recently, and they’re just after you. Could be that someone just thinks the world would be a better place with one less death eater.”
“Have you told Draco this?” Astoria asked, eyebrows raised.
“He and I have talked about it at length. But I doubt he’s mentioned it to Hermione. But, all the more reason you two need to lay low. He’s added a few more wards to the place since the last attack, but they’re getting more aggressive.”
Hermione bit her lip and closed her notebook.
“Charlie is still working on getting more heartstrings?” He asked, looking to Hermione.
She nodded.
“They’re getting paranoid about goblin imports now, so they’re working on completely restricting borders now, and even monitoring muggle borders.”
Hermione’s heart sank. If they monitored muggle borders, someone might still detect them. Polyjuice left a slight trace of magic behind.
“Ron is limiting what information they have access to as best he can, but they know you two are friends and dated. So, they expect him to be more familiar with muggles than dad was.”
He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
“Erm. One last thing…”
“What?”
“They… They found your parents.”
Hermione felt cold and her hand twitched.
“What happened?”
“They’re fine. I told you, you made some enemies. They thought they could interrogate your parents for information about you, but even the veritaserum failed apparently.”
“That’s illegal!” She cried indignantly.
Percy shrugged.
“They left that part out of the reports. But someone was dumb enough to snatch a bottle from the ministry’s stores. Got someone else fired over it too from the looks of it, since the use wasn’t accounted for.”
“That shouldn’t be possible for them to resist veritaserum. Are they immune?” Astoria asked, furrowing her eyebrows.
Percy’s jaw clenched and he turned to Hermione. He knew about their memory loss apparently.
“They don’t remember me anymore. Obliteration,” she explained plainly, not looking to Astoria as she said it.
The three of them stood in silence for an unbearable few seconds before Hermione spoke again.
“Have they interrogated anyone else?”
Percy made an indecisive gesture with his head.
“They’ve brought Ron in a few times for more heavy questioning than usual. No one has dared push Harry too much. They sent someone to talk with Neville, but didn’t get far. Ginny has been mentioned a few times, but again, everyone’s afraid of getting on Harry’s bad side.”
“What about Draco?” Astoria asked.
“No one at the ministry really buys that they’re close.”
“So, theoretically I’m next,” Astoria said plainly.
Percy nodded.
“Most likely.”
“Well, the more they focus on me, the better. So, we should give them something,” Hermione said.
“Excuse me?” Percy replied, lifting his eyebrows.
“We don’t want them looking too close at Astoria. So, keep the attention on me.”
“With what exactly?”
Hermione hesitated.
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll think of something.”
“Whatever it is, tell me before you do it,” he said as he pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose.
“Of course.”
Draco was sitting at the kitchen table with his mother when Granger burst through the door. She was wearing a pair of muggle jeans and an old jumper. The comfortable act was endearing, despite the fact that the jumper was faded. He felt his jaw clench when he realized he had been eyeing the spot on her hip where the jumper didn’t quite meet the jeans.
When he overheard a thought akin to wanting to burn her muggle clothing, he glanced at his mother who was wearing her strongest disapproving face. The nose in the air, slight wrinkle in offense still made him uncomfortable when it was directed at him.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude,” Granger said quietly as she took a step backward.
Once she was gone, his mother let out a puff of air.
“Thank Merlin she doesn’t wear anything like that out of the house. I don’t know what I would even begin to tell people.”
Draco felt a surge of irritation, but didn’t bother arguing with her. Her problems with Granger’s wardrobe were minor comparatively speaking.
“We’ll continue this discussion tomorrow,” he said firmly, referencing their conversation before the interruption. Lawrence had declared that he would be running against Minister Parry in the upcoming election, and he had come skulking around Narcissa for political donations a few days ago.
“You think I’d give that festering blister a sickle?” She snapped irritably when Draco confronted her about it. He was glad for her visceral response because while he wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, he knew that Lawrence was appealing to a lot of old money and people with traditional values right now. The growing fear of goblins was kindling all over Britain; ready for someone like Lawrence to set fire.
He and Granger were supposed to meet in the kitchen tonight to make some sort of dessert, only now she was nowhere to be found. After checking the library, the study, the potions room, and the gardens, he made his way upstairs to see if she was in her room.
Her door was closed, and he knocked before he fully considered what he was doing.
“What?” She barked through the door.
Who spat in your tea? She was audibly cranky.
“Can I come in?”
“Fine.”
He pushed the door open and stepped inside. His senses were flooded with her perfume, blankets, fresh parchment, and a dozen other scents he associated with her. She was reading in one of the comfortable chairs by the window.
“No need to burn the muggle clothing on my mother’s account,” he said, confessing to having heard the thought.
“Not her…” she mumbled, looking back down to her book.
What?
“What did I miss?” He asked tentatively as he sat down in the chair across from her.
“Actually, I think I need you to leave,” she mumbled, blinking rapidly as she did. Her heart rate had picked up a bit and he realized that she was upset about something.
“Granger, what’s going on?”
She snapped her eyes up to his.
“You’re mad at me,” he said plainly. It was not a question. Her nostrils flared.
“Yes.”
Silence.
“Why?”
She gestured to the bottom of her jeans as she kicked a leg out dramatically.
That’s what this is about??
Thank Merlin he could occlude because he was struggling to swallow the urge to laugh at her for pouting about the reaction to her clothes. When he realized she was crying, he felt guilty that his first impulse was to laugh at her.
“My mother’s never been comfortable a day in her life. Don’t let her get to you.”
Granger sniffled and pulled her knees higher as she hid behind her book.
“I don’t care what she thinks,” she snapped irritably.
Draco stared blankly.
“Just get out,” she said again.
“Granger, I don’t give a damn about your muggle clothes."
If anything I’m too preoccupied with interest in what’s underneath.
Nope, best not to dwell on that.
In a shocking turn of events, she did what was usually his move, and disapperated to get away from him.
What the hell?
He looked for her in her usual places, then sat down in defeat when he couldn’t find her. The study was cold and it was significantly less pleasant without her company. Irritation was growing in his chest as he poured a drink. He was planning on having her to himself for a few hours, and was angry with the lonely void left behind.
Without meaning to, he found himself compulsively pulling out the cell phone, and checking for a message from her. When none came for over an hour, he realized he had drank far more whiskey than he had intended. Worse still, he was completely sloshed when she got home, and he nearly fell off the sofa when she stepped out of the fire.
“You’re back!”
Too enthusiastic.
Her eyes widened.
“How much have you had to drink?”
He shrugged.
“I’m going to bed,” she said as she turned to go.
“Why are you angry with me?” He asked before he could contain the thought, and he put his glass of firewhiskey down. The liquor had loosened his tongue far too much.
She straightened her back and her nostrils flared again.
“Because my existence has always been offensive to you and everyone around you. And every once in a while, it stings.”
He felt the wind knocked out of him, and he was unable to breathe properly.
“What?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Are you really that thick?”
He blinked.
Apparently.
“I don’t care what your mother thinks of me. I do care what my friends think of me though. So, forgive me for being prickly when you grimace at my muggle clothes or check what I’m wearing before you have to be seen at a public function with me,” she barked.
Muggle jeans.
New Year's gala.
Shit.
“I’m not ashamed to be seen with you,” he said defensively.
She snorted derisively.
“What?” He barked back, growing irritated with having words put in his mouth.
“Whatever. Doesn’t matter. It’s always been something with you. Better my clothes than my blood status I suppose. Or my hair.”
He lost the ability to breathe again. When she turned to go, he compulsively reached for her.
“Wait.”
Granger’s eyes flashed to his, daring him to give her a reason to stay. His mouth replied before his mind could consent to the confession.
“I love your hair.”
“What?”
Damnit. Shut up!
“I don’t care about the muggle clothes,” he corrected, hoping to skate by the previous confession.
If they keep showing skin accidentally I might be convinced they’re fucking fantastic.
“I don’t—I mean, I don’t understand them. But I’m not bothered by them. If anything I’m too interested in what you wear, muggle or not.”
For the love of Merlin, shut up.
Her eyebrows raised slightly, and he felt like he would be sick.
Whatever happened after that point was a blur. For some reason, after his last comment, she seemed significantly less irritated with him. Turns out, she was also slightly drunk, which was rather unlike her. They didn’t cook, but she did withdraw a box of muggle candies, and they drunkenly ate the entire box on the floor before drunkenly dozing off on the rug together.
March 14, 2014
Draco woke up to the sound of Percy’s “ahem," and to his horror, realized that he was on the floor of the study, completely tangled up with Granger with the remnants of last night’s candy and liquor binge strewn all over the floor.
Percy was gawking at them with a smile that made Draco want to slap him. When he shifted to sit up, Granger startled awake and sprang away from him in a panic when she realized they had been seen together. The reaction stung.
“Oh my! I’m going to be late!” She glanced at her wristwatch and disapperated, presumably to her room to grab her things before frantically scrambling to work. As soon as she was gone, Percy lolled his head back to Draco.
“Got anything to share?” He said, flashing a delighted smile.
“No,” Draco clipped as he stood up.
“You looked rather comfortable for a one time slip up,” he said, searching for clues.
“Let it go.”
Percy threw his hands up in frustration.
“For all our sakes, just admit it already.”
“Admit what?”
"You love her."
"No."
“Why not? She loves you.”
Draco nearly passed out at that thought. Worse still, Granger appeared at that moment to dash through the floo for work. Once she was gone, Draco turned back to Percy to find that the idiot had noticed the shift in his attention.
Fuck you.
“No, she doesn’t.”
“You’re determined to be miserable. I ought to slap you.”
“Back off!”
Percy threw his hands up again in exasperation, and Draco snapped.
“Damnit Percy! I wasn’t just a bully. I believed her to be inherently inferior! My family wanted her dead. And then, because I have the self control of a niffler, despite all that history, I agreed to let her blood bond with me knowing full well that she could have probably just lived here and had the security of the manor without binding her here for life!”
“She needed access to those records. And becoming a member of the sacred twenty-eight was part of the security plan.”
“She’s Granger. She would have figured it out eventually, even with more limited information. And look how well the protection of old families has worked out! They clearly don’t give a shit anymore. They’re sending more people here than ever before.” He was breathing heavily, and seething.
“The Granger that got here seven months ago wouldn’t have been found happily hung over on the floor with you after a night of whatever that was,” Percy said flatly, gesturing to the mess. "Just tell her already."
Draco scoffed.
"I'm not telling her anything. Now, drop it."
“Why is it so ridiculous to think that she’s in love with you?”
“Because I’ve seen her thoughts, now for fuck’s sake. Leave it.”
Percy tipped his head curiously, and opened his mouth to ask a question, but snapped his jaw shut before committing. Which was a good call because Draco was ready to hex him.
“Lawrence came to my mother for money,” Draco said, changing the subject.
“Fuck.”
“You’re sure he’s not the one sending death eaters here?”
Percy shook his head.
“Not directly anyway. But I can’t figure him out. If he is sending people here, I don’t know who he’s working with. He’s got a handful of sympathizers, and people that like to quietly agree with him. But most people are too afraid to openly support his agenda.”
Draco grimaced.
“The quiet support and sympathizers is all he needs.”
Percy rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
“I told Astoria to lay low. Since your security is better, I’d rather she work here.”
For the first and only time that Draco could remember, he was slightly irritated by the thought of Astoria lingering at the manor frequently. He had no interest in sharing Granger during their occasional evening plans. When Astoria was around, the two of them tended to huddle together and chatter without regard for anyone else in the room.
“Fine,” he agreed.