Manacled by Senlinyu

chapter 65

Ever since he'd been announced as identity behind the High Reeve, the papers had grown rabid in their curiosity and coverage of him. Voldemort's protege. He made appearances at the Ministry, at fundraisers, abroad...

He was traveling frequently. Short trips, usually less than a day, with a noticeable escort.

Draco stood at the landing, looking at her. She'd wrapped his cloak around her shoulders before venturing into the hallway, and his eyes flickered when he noted it. He stared at her for several seconds as though he were re-memorising her.

She studied him in the same way, trying to understand the new version of him.

"I thought you were out," she said when the silence grew oppressive.

"My plans until noon were cancelled." He was studying her carefully, his eyes flicking down to her feet and her hands. "Are you strong enough to walk? I wanted to show you something."

Hermione swallowed. "How far is it?"

"The closer side of the main wing."

Hermione hesitated and then stood, her curiosity piqued. "I think I can walk that far."

He maintained a conscientious distance from her as they walked slowly through the manor. It should have been only a ten minute walk, but it took well over half an hour. He made a convincing job of walking at a glacial speed and didn't say anything when she had to pause along the way and shrank towards the walls when the hallways widened and grew larger.

She studied him the whole way, noting the edge, the precision. He was carefully exacting to an extent that he hadn't been before.

It was his runes, she realised with slow horror. They'd carved him away. They'd ground him down and reduced him until there was nothing to interfere with them.

Unhesitating, cunning, unfailing, ruthless, and unyielding; driven to succeed.

He'd spent sixteen months trying to find her. He'd hunted for her across Europe, all the way to Australia. He'd used genetic traces, repeatedly, despite the fact they were enough Dark Magic to occasionally kill wizards.

He'd known she was somewhere. He'd let himself disappear in the process.

She and Draco came to a stop outside a familiar set of doors. A doorway that had always been locked to Hermione as long as she'd been in the manor.

There was a fluttering sensation in her chest as she recognised where they were.

Her throat tightened, and she looked down, biting her lip. "I can't touch your books anymore; they're hexed," she said.

"I had the elves restore them all."

Hermione looked up sharply.

He was looking at the doors. "I intended to bring you sooner, but you were bedridden."

"Astoria—"

"I'll deal with her if, and when, she comes back. You can come here as much as you want or take books back to your room or somewhere else if you prefer. The house-elves will transport them."

He opened the door to the library and stood back to let her enter.

Hermione peeked inside, taking a hesitant step forward until she stood in the doorway, and drawing a slow, deep breath as she took it in. It was the same. The same library she'd visited two years before, brimming with books she'd longed to read.

She'd been so bored for so long, and here it was, and she could touch them, read them—

She stepped eagerly forward—