Chapter Forty-One
"So...is this what you do all day?"
"What do you mean?"
"Eat, read, and play games?"
"Yeah," Tillian says. "Knight to E5."
"You git," Ron curses as his piece is taken. He stares at the board in contemplation. "Anyway, seems a bit boring, don't it?"
"No," Ginny says. She's tossing one of Draco's old Snitches up into the air and catching it again, her body stretched out on a chaise. "What else are they supposed to do?"
"Yeah, living with a ferret, you've got to make do," Harry jokes. It causes Ron to snicker.
"Hermione, have you seen this?" Neville gets up from his armchair and rushes to where Hermione's sitting on the floor and knitting with Faye. "This book details every single usage of Mandrake in history. The first recorded usage was in China in 1550 BC! Can you believe it?"
Harry stares up at him. He's sitting on the floor across from Hermione, looking at some old Quidditch magazine. "How do you know what BC means?"
Neville looks confused. "Why wouldn't I? What else is it called?"
"Neville, do you know who Jesus Christ is?"
"No," he says with a confident smile. "Is he a singer?"
Harry and Hermione exchange glances before they burst out into sputtering laughter. It's not even that funny. They're just so happy to be together that everything is ten times funnier. That, and the thought of Jesus Christ being a singer has Hermione in stitches.
"Sold out concerts across the world," Harry says between howls. "Three hundred Number One hits."
"And he wears leather pants and a crop top," Hermione adds. That sends Harry to the floor on his back, holding his stomach.
"It has to glitter," Tillian says through a smile.
"Stop," Hermione says, falling into a fit of giggles that has tears streaming down her face. "You guys are ridiculous."
Neville scratches the back of his head. "...so he's not a singer?"
There's silence before Harry and Hermione lose it again, which makes Ron and Ginny laugh, followed by Faye. Tillian cracks a smile, which Hermione supposes is the best she's gonna get. She has always thought Tillian reminded her of Ron when in reality, he's a lot more like Draco.
This is the fourth day since her friends came back into her life. They'd spent every waking hour together, luxuriating like kings and queens. As much as they dislike him, they're thoroughly enjoying what facilities Draco has to offer. Ginny took an hour-long bath. Ron's been in and out of the Dining Hall constantly, eating absolutely whatever he wants. Harry found Draco's Quidditch memorabilia room that Hermione had no idea existed, but she figures Harry would be the one to find it. And Neville's been in Heaven with the Manor's wealth of Herbology texts.
When she looks at things this way, it's easy to see why the Order decided to focus on survival. Everyone's happy. Content. Safe. Hermione understands that. She understands that very well.
Still, Draco is nowhere to be found. No one's really asked after his whereabouts, which Hermione doesn't think is shocking, given they all dislike him. Tillian mentioned once that it was strange he'd been gone so long, but that was it. And now Hermione feels like her seams are bursting. Like there's parts of her bleeding out into the air in their search for him.
What the Hell is his problem? How could he do that? Just...tell her all those lovely things, sleep with her, bring her a new reason to keep breathing, and then...disappear? He's got to stop doing this.
"You look broody," Ginny says. "Why do you look broody?"
"I'm annoyed with that man," Hermione says automatically. "Where is he?"
Everyone's quiet.
"You mean, Malfoy?" Neville asks.
"Yes! He's so frustrating. He always leaves when I..." Hermione trails off, pausing in her knitting. Her heart pounds faster as she realizes how close she's just come to admitting a little something-something that she shouldn't be admitting. "I mean, he's just an arse sometimes."
"No, you think?" Ginny giggles. "Maybe he's off torturing someone."
"He probably is," Tillian says. "Check."
"Oh, no you don't," Ron growls, peering closely at the board. "And honestly, who knows what Malfoy does for the Dark Lord? He never tells us anything. He just shows up randomly to tell us you're fine, talk to Lupin and Kingsley, and then he leaves again."
Hermione doesn't say anything to that.
Because unfortunately, that's exactly what his job is.
"I can't believe you've been here with him," Harry says. "Faye, has he been rude to you at all?"
"Not at all," Faye says, shooting Hermione a quick look. She seems to understand that Hermione doesn't want them to know too much. "I like Malfoy. He's really nice to me."
"Yeah, but no one can be rude to you, darling," Tillian says.
"You guys just wanna pick on him," Faye says.
Even Hermione has to laugh at that one.
"Faye, if anyone's well-versed in picking on people, it's him," Harry says.
"I know that," Faye says with an exasperated eye-roll. "I mean now. He's really nice to me and I don't hate him. I'm not going to act like I'm not grateful to him, either. He saved Tillian and I. That counts for something."
Harry pulls a face. "I can't get used to it. Malfoy the Saviour."
"Malfoy the Knight," Ron says.
"Malfoy the Chivalrous."
"Malfoy the Lugubrious."
"The what?"
"Lugubrious," Hermione says matter-of-factly. "Having a sad countenance. Nice choice of vocabulary, Ronald."
Ron and Harry stare at each other before nodding.
"Yep, sounds like him."
"He's not that bad, guys!" Faye says. "He may not smile often, but he's not lugubrious."
"He's a bit lugubrious," Hermione says. "But that's okay because we lo—look for that in him."
Faye and Tillian look at Hermione.
"Can you imagine Malfoy on a white horse, coming to rescue a princess from a tower?" Neville says, plopping down on his chair again. "Ron, you're the princess."
"Yeah," Harry's grin is malicious. "Malfoy's coming to save you, Ron. Don't forget to reward him with a kiss."
"Eurgh, don't make me sick."
"How did he find you guys?" Ginny asks.
The question is innocent. It's a simple question, really. But none of them can answer it because if they do, they'll have to explain what the Oubliette is. They'll have to tell them that Draco paid for them. And they'll have to tell them the truth: that Hermione was in the Oubliette with them and that in the beginning, she was paid for to be Draco's food.
It's not time for that bombshell to drop yet.
"We were in the forest with Hermione," Tillian lies effortlessly. "She didn't tell you? Check."
"Merlin's beard!" Ron cries out angrily. "How do you keep doing that?"
"Because I'm really good at wizard's chess."
"And so am I! At least, I was. Damn."
"At least it's not Spades," Harry says. "I'm dreadful at that game."
"Oh, come off it," Hermione says. "I remember you being perfectly fine."
"What's Spades?" Ron asks.
"You don't know how to play Spades?!" Hermione, Tillian, and Harry shout at the same time.
"Why the Hell would I know how to play Spades?!" Ron shouts back, half-laughing. "I'm not a Muggle!"
Hermione shakes her head. "Can't believe it. Well, here we go. Time for me to explain it to you."
"Why?"
"Because we're playing Spades! Now that I know you don't know what it is."
"I don't know what it is, either," Ginny says.
Neville nods. "Same here."
"Everyone come and sit in front of me on the floor. I'll call Pinky to bring us a pack of cards, and then I'll show you. Sit, sit."
"What?" Ron cries. "But we haven't finished our game!"
"Checkmate," Tillian says.
Ron blinks at him in shock before frantically inspecting the board. His jaw drops.
"You cleared me, mate. Bloody Hell."
Tillian grins.
"With the quickness, please!" Hermione snaps. Pinky's already brought the cards and left. They're taking too long.
Once everyone is seated, Hermione takes the time to explain the game to everyone, showing them the correct and wrong ways to play it. Everyone listens intently, but Hermione can tell she's losing Ron. Which isn't out of the realm of sense, given she couldn't get him to pay attention to her when they were teenagers unless she dangled a biscuit over his head.
This time, he seems to be unfocused for another reason.
As Harry and Ginny are deep in discussion about a rule of the game, everyone focusing on them, Hermione turns her head and sees that Ron is staring at her. No.
He's gazing.
Oh, Hell.
Hermione offers him a small smile. "What's the matter, Ronald?"
"Nothing," he says softly, blue eyes twinkling. "It feels good."
"What does?"
"Hearing you tell me what to do."
Not us. Me.
Hermione swallows against a dry lump in her throat. She's pretty sure Ron's still got feelings for her. This is very, very bad. Maybe years ago, she would have returned the feelings, but so much time has passed. She thought he was dead. And then she went and fell for the absolute last person he'd ever understand her falling for.
This new, soft and calm version of Ron isn't going to last. Not when he finds out the truth. None of them are going to understand, least of all Ron. And Hermione's not scared for Draco.
She's scared for Ron.
The silence has stretched a bit awkward by the time Ginny's voice cuts in.
"I think we all missed Hermione's lectures, yeah?" She nudges Hermione's waist with her elbow. "It's like we're back at Hogwarts."
"Hate to say it, but I agree," Harry says. He grabs Hermione's hand and squeezes it. "We missed you terribly."
They decide to eat a late lunch before playing Spades. They play the game for an hour, during which Hermione is unsurprised to see that Ron's a sore loser. What she's surprised about is the fact that Neville is, too. He pouts and quits after three games, whereas Ron hangs in there.
"It's all right, Neville," Faye says, patting his knee. "It was hard for me at first, too."
"I don't like not being good at things," he mumbles.
"You're good at lots of things, Neville," Hermione tells him. "It's okay to not be good at games, too."
"Unless it's me," Ron says with his goofy, lopsided grin. He points two fingers at his eyes and then at Tillian's. "I'll get you one of these days, mate."
Tillian's answering grin is devious. "We'll see."
"We've been playing for so long," Harry says. "Should we take a break?"
"Yeah, let's," Hermione agrees.
Everyone sets their cards down and relaxes, chatting amiably for a bit about random things. It isn't until someone mentions something about Firewhiskey that Ron and Harry get a dangerous idea.
"We should drink tonight," Harry says. "What do you say, Hermione?"
Hermione narrows her eyes. "Why does this feel like a two-part question?"
"Because it is."
"And what's the second part?"
Ron slings his arm around Hermione's shoulders and hugs her to his side. "We want to bring Seamus here."
"No!" Hermione says. "We can't. I told you. It's too dangerous. What if the Floos are being watched?"
"That doesn't make any sense, Hermione, and you know it. The Floo wouldn't be not watched whenever Harry freaking Potter is going through it, then suddenly watched when Seamus Finnegan is."
"Does the Dark Lord even know who Seamus is?" Ginny asks, leaning back on her hands.
"I doubt the Dark Lord made it a point to learn the entire roster of the Hogwarts student body," Harry says. "He probably wouldn't know it was Seamus if he punched him in the face."
They all start giggling. The thought of Seamus punching the Dark Lord is enticingly hilarious.
"I still don't think it's a good idea," Hermione says. "It's like I said before. Malfoy could have arranged things in some way so that the Floo like, doesn't register your signatures, or something. He would need time to get things arranged for Seamus. And I don't know any of this for certain; I just think he should know first before we try to bring anyone."
"So, let's ask him, then!" Ron says, sounding irritated. "Where is the blasted idiot? He brings his mortal enemies to his house and leaves them here unsupervised for four days?"
Crack.
Everyone screams, including Hermione. Tillian sends cards spraying everywhere and Faye clutches her chest while laughing incredulously. Neville looks pale and disheveled. Ginny's cackling and Harry's got the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers, beneath his glasses.
Hermione's heart shivers in her chest as she looks up from her place on the floor with everyone else.
Draco stands there, in the center of the room. He looks quite the sight, covered in blood and smelling like smoke, with the backdrop of the fire crackling in the fireplace. Hermione has to fight off the immense urge she has to throw herself into his arms. As angry as she is that he left— again— she misses him. All the time. Constantly.
But Ron. Bloody Ron.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
He still has his arm around Hermione.
Draco's gaze lingers on Ron's hand, cold and empty. Ron's thick fingers are curved around her shoulder and he seems completely uninterested in letting go of her.
Hermione's breath freezes in her lungs. What is he going to do? Is he going to attack him? He had better not. That's not something she'd forgive him for, and he knows it.
But Ron should really let go of her.
"Malfoy!" Faye says brightly, leaping to her feet and prancing over to him as she usually does. She slides her arms around his waist and hugs him, which he returns with the one-armed embrace he always gives her. The disturbance this causes amongst the others is written all over their confused expressions. "We missed you! Ooo, you stink. Where have you been?"
"There was a situation in Scotland," he says, ruffling Faye's hair absentmindedly. His eyes find Tillian and he gives him a greeting nod. Hermione can't help the fondness that stretches inside her when she sees this—Draco, getting along with her friends, even after what happened yesterday.
"Scotland?" Harry says, standing up. Everyone follows suit, giving Hermione a chance to escape Ron's arm. "What happened in Scotland?
Hermione's surprised herself to hear no animosity in Draco's tone when he replies.
"Greece has been trying to invade for about a month now," he says, pushing his fingers through his hair and wincing. He pulls his hand away and it comes out bloody.
He's hurt? Hermione sucks in her breath and takes a step forward. She tries not to look too eager or worried.
"What happened?" Ron asks.
"Battle, obviously," Draco says, and Hermione can practically hear the sneer in his voice this time. "They haven't got the numbers for it, but France is interested, which isn't good for the Dark Lord's sake. He's got us on the offensive any time the Greeks show up."
"Forgive me for being unable to read your mind, you git," Ron snaps. He moves closer to Hermione in an almost protective manner, and it takes everything she has in her not to laugh out of pure discomfort. This situation is only going to get worse and worse.
Draco stares at him in the blank sort of way. The look where his eyes go dead and there's nothing but a barren, icy wasteland of Occlusion visible within them. The last few times Hermione's seen that look were not good, so she holds her breath and hopes the Occlusion keeps him at bay.
This is the first time she's glad for it.
"Granger," Draco says, that dead gaze snapping to her. She nearly takes a step back. "I need your help."
"Oh...with what?"
"Wounded." He comes closer, bloody and tall and imposing. Hermione can see the boys all tensing, as though they think he's dangerous.
Which he is.
"You can heal. I can't," he says, withdrawing his wand. The tension in the room increases and Hermione sees Harry gritting his teeth. Draco looks at them all and a small smirk twists his features. He seems to enjoy the fear he inspires.
"Where is the wound?" she asks, daring to drift closer to him and inspect him. Her fingers tingle. She wants to touch him.
"Back of my head." He turns his wand over, offering the handle of it to her. She takes it without thinking because she's used his wand before.
Hermione glances around. She makes for an armchair and motions for him to come and sit. He sits down on the floor between her legs, his knees up and arms slung over them. Hermione can see red blood matting his pale hair. When she puts her fingers in it to sift it aside and look, she's shocked to see a large cut that should be deep enough to kill him.
Fortunately, he's already dead.
"Sit still," she mutters, ignoring everything around her as she casts the necessary spells. The heat of his body is a comfort against her legs. A reminder that he's real. She's glad to know he's okay, but she still doesn't understand why he left on Christmas night.
She thinks back to what Tillian and Faye had discussed with her, feeling nervous and guilty. He's not abusing her, right? He can't be. He said he would never hurt her.
But he has. She hates it, absolutely despises it, but he has. He didn't mean it, but that's exactly what someone in an abusive situation would say. They would try to convince themselves that the person they loved wasn't hurting them. That they were misunderstood.
Provided...provided he loves her, of course. He hadn't said that. He'd said he cared about her. And she hadn't said it, either. Not aloud.
But she feels it. She knows she feels it. It's heavy and there, present in the depths of her heart. He's got his claws and fangs sunk so deep into her that nothing but death could keep her from him.
What is she supposed to do?
Hermione clenches her teeth, watching his skin knitting back together as a means of focusing. She definitely doesn't want to cry in front of her friends. They're already watching them with a myriad of perplexed, disgusted, and perturbed looks.
"See something you like, Weaselbee?" Draco suddenly says. Hermione can physically hear that he's still smirking.
She yanks on his hair. He hisses and turns around to glare at her. She gives him a saccharine sweet smile.
"Don't be rude."
He narrows his eyes before turning around again.
"Just finding it humorous to see the spoiled ferret prince getting his hair done," Ron says with a snicker. He looks at Harry, but Harry's response is to shoot him a warning look.
"At least her hands are in my hair," Draco says in a sing-song tone. "Would you like to have a go?"
Ginny's eyes nearly fall out of her head. Hermione doesn't see anyone else's expression because she's wrenching Draco's head to the side so she can glower at him.
"You better knock it off," she pushes out through clenched teeth. "I'll hex all of your hair off. I swear to Godric."
He smirks at her and it makes her heart flutter.
Stupid, stupid man.
"Is this how it's going to be?" Faye asks with a pout. "Do you always nip at each other?"
"Yes," Ron and Draco say simultaneously.
Neville barks a laugh that he hurries to hide behind his hand.
Hermione scowls to herself, shaking her head in annoyance. She finishes up healing his wand, casts a scourgify on him to rid him of the blood and smoke scent, and then smacks him upside the head.
She very clearly and very loudly thinks, That's for leaving, arsehole.
"I'm done," she says audibly. "Get up."
He stands up, turning and holding his hand out to her like a gentleman. He's still wearing that ridiculous smirk as she gingerly places her hand in his so he can help her to her feet. She starts to pull her hand back, but he grabs onto it. Tight.
"Try not to get in trouble," he says, eyes flashing.
"What trouble could I possibly get into?" She hopes he can hear in her mind how much she hates him for leaving again, and how desperately she wants him to stay.
He arches one eyebrow before addressing the others. "If you think I don't know what goes on in my house, you're sorely mistaken."
Everyone shares slightly guilty looks, except for Ron. His full attention is on Draco, and Hermione's hand in his. Hermione wants to groan. The last thing she wants is a testosterone-fueled battle in the sitting room. Especially one that would result in Ron's death.
With reluctance, she snatches her hand back.
"Is it...okay?" she asks, grimacing. "Just Seamus. He'll be the only one."
"Granger."
"Oh, come on." She clasps her hands in front of her chest and smiles weakly. "I really want to see him. He's my friend."
Draco sighs.
"Fine." He looks over Hermione's head. "But only him, Potter, you hear me? I'm not fucking around."
Harry holds up both hands in surrender. "Seamus will be the only one. Seeker's honor."
Draco squints at him. "If we went after a Snitch right now, right this second, I'd beat you immediately."
Harry snorts. "As if. You only caught the Snitch once."
"On the contrary, Potter." His eyes flicker down to Hermione, giving her a once-over. "I've caught many things since our school days."
He's going to be insufferable after this. Draco would win. He could catch the Snitch, stun them all, and kiss her in the blink of an eye, and they'd have no idea what hit them.
Hermione purses her lips, trying not to smile. He'd better not act a fool. No fighting with Harry. No fighting with Ron. No fighting with anyone.
She holds his stare for longer than she probably should, knowing that everyone's watching them. They're having a silent conversation, Hermione hoping he understands how much trouble he's in for leaving, and him warning her not to mess this up. Reminding her that what he's done is dangerous and a privilege, and not to waste it.
"This is so weird," Ginny stage-whispers.
This seems to snap Draco out of whatever thought process he'd been going through. His hand is quick as he curls his fingers beneath her chin and shakes her head gently.
"Be good," he says in a firm voice. "I don't want to come home to blood on the floor. Got it?"
Godric damn him. She can't keep the stars out of her eyes when she looks at him.
"Okay," she says.
"Good..." He clears his throat. "Don't drink too much, and stay off the stairs."
Hermione knows what he'd almost called her, and she knows exactly why he doesn't want her on the stairs. Why he doesn't want to come home to blood on the floor.
"I'll try to be back tonight," he says quietly, tucking his wand up into his sleeve. "I'm going back now."
"Wait!" she cries.
He raises an eyebrow in her direction.
"Are you hungry?" she asks.
"I'll be fine."
She twists her mouth to the side and nods begrudgingly. He'd better come home soon. It's not good for him to be battling when he hasn't had any blood.
He chucks her under the chin with his knuckle once, his eyes softening marginally in a way only Hermione can tell, and then with a crack, he's gone.
The silence is as heavy as lead. When Hermione turns to look at her friends, they're all staring at her like a captive, horrified audience. Only Faye and Tillian are unperturbed.
"What...the fuck...was that?" Ron's eyes are blazing and his expression is disturbed. "Why did he talk to you like that?"
"Why did he look at you like that?" Ginny says. "That was so weird."
"He's...like that," Hermione says, forcing herself to roll her eyes. "He's not the friendliest."
"It's like you're—"
"Friends," Tillian says. "They're friends. We all are friends with him. Right, Faye?"
"Oh, of course," she replies, clasping her hands behind her back and rocking on her feet. "I know you guys don't like him, but try to look on the bright side."
"We do," Harry says, shaking his head. "I'm gonna go get Seamus and explain things to the others."
Harry leaves the sitting room, headed for the Floo. When they're alone, the awkwardness hasn't abated.
"Why did he come here if he had to go right back to where he was before?" Neville asks. "Couldn't he have had someone heal him there?"
"He probably wanted to see..." Hermione coughs. "See how things were going here."
"He let you use his wand," Ron says.
"Yes. He lets me use it from time-to-time."
"You know," Neville says, "he's a bit of a creepy bloke."
"Completely," Ginny says, her eyes staring directly into Hermione's soul. "It's almost like he looks at you like he owns you."
Hermione can't stop herself from giggling, hoping they can't tell she's nervous. She waves a dismissive hand.
"Don't be silly. I don't belong to anyone."
"Does he know that?"
Crickets.
"Well," Faye says, clapping her hands loudly. "You heard the man. We've got the approval. I don't know about you, but I'd like a drink."
"I second that notion!" Tillian says. "Who wants to start early?"
Everyone clamors to the kitchen, leaving Hermione by herself in the sitting room. She takes a moment to catch her breath. So much had happened in so little time. She misses Draco already, and she knows there's going to be trouble in the future. Ron isn't getting along with him, and with his handsiness, she doesn't know how long the pseudo-peace is going to last.
She rubs her temples.
Men give her such headaches.
"Well bite my ears and shit the bed. Is that you, Hermione?"